Page 165 of Ghost Ribbon

Maybe that was why he wasn’t as brave as I remembered him from that night in Italy. Why the boy I had once watched stand so fearlessly beneath the stars seemed to have learned how to shrink himself instead. Those fucking idiots had dimmed something in him, and I hated them for it almost as much as I hated myself for arriving too late.

But I didn’t forget them.

I tracked them all the way to Italy. I had them taken and delivered to Ilya’s little playroom, and knowing Ilya, I was fairly certain none of them had walked back out.

Perhaps that was the closest thing to an apology I would ever be able to give him.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

“I want you,” he whispered and I kissed his head, then his nose, followed by his lips.

I kissed him gently and I carefully got on top of him, keeping all my weight off so I wouldn’t crush him.

Tonight, I would be the gentlest thing in his world.

I settled fully over him, knees bracketing his hips, and reached back to pull my own shirt over my head. The second the fabric cleared my face I saw them properly - dozens of tiny puncture marks scattered along the insides of his arms, the soft skin of his wrists, even a few near the crook of his elbow. Needle marks. Fresh enough that some still looked pink. The doctors had poked and probed him endlessly, and the sight of every single one made me want to end this world.

I parted his legs carefully. He was already bare beneath me; he only ever slept in one of my shirts, and I’d stripped that off him earlier. His thighs fell open easily, the way they always did for me, and I leaned down.

I kissed a slow path down his chest, over the faint ridges of his ribs, across the soft plane of his stomach. When my mouth reached the first cluster of marks on his left arm he winced - not from pain, I could tell, but from shame. Like he thought the evidence of what his body had been through made him less.

I hated that look more than anything.

I pressed my lips to every single mark. I kissed the ones on his wrist twice, three times, until the tension in his arm melted and his fingers curled weakly into the sheets.

“Alexei… please…” His voice cracked. “Hurry up.”

I chuckled against his skin, low and warm. “You’re impatient, baby.”

I reached over to the nightstand, found the bottle of lube by feel, and slicked two fingers thoroughly. The second the cool gel touched him he shook his head, eyes glassy.

“No…I… I need you.”

I raised an eyebrow, hovering over him. “It’s been a while since I stretched this little hole of yours. I’m not just ramming myself in.”

I lowered my body until my chest brushed his, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Be patient, Malyshka.”

My free hand came down in a light smack against the outside of his thigh - nowhere near as hard as I usually would, just enough to make the skin pink for a second. He went still, lower lip pushing out in the softest pout, and the sight of it made heat coil low in my gut.

Then I pressed two fingers against him and slid them in slow.

He clenched around me immediately. I worked him open, curling my fingers just right so they dragged over that spot inside him that always made his toes curl. “Alexei—”

I kept the pace controlled, coating his walls in lube until he was wet and open. Every time he tried to push down onto my hand I pinned his hip with my other palm.

When the tight ring of muscle finally gave easily around three fingers, when he was slick and pushing back into my hand like he couldn’t help himself, I eased them out.

Marco made a needy sound at the loss.

I shifted, hands gentle on his hips, and carefully turned him onto his side so his back faced me. He glanced over his shoulder, brows drawn together.

“What are you doing?”

“Shush,” I murmured, already sliding in behind him, chest to his back, one arm slipping under his neck so I could cradle him properly. I didn’t want to risk any drastic position. I definitely would not throw his legs over my shoulders - that would be too much - and him on his stomach, I don’t want because I want to see his face. My lips brushed the nape of his neck. “This way I can hold you properly.”

I settled fully against him, the front of my body molded to the curve of his spine. My free hand stroked down his side, over the soft skin of his waist, then lower. I cupped one of his ass cheeks and parted it carefully, exposing the stretched hole I’d just prepared. My cock - already hard and leaking slid between his cheeks. I rolled my hips once, twice, letting the thick length drag slowly through the lube, rubbing the head against his entrance without pushing in yet.