He felt a relentless pounding inside of him, running from brow to chest, then straight down to his groin.
"I'm not him," he whispered.
Taras leaned forward as he spoke, shifting his weight, his hand pressing against Isaev's stomach.
He dug his fingers in, to keep his hand from shaking. Isaev's stomach tightened reflexively, the solid, burning heat of muscle hard and taut underneath firm skin.
Taras swallowed.
"I'm not him, Lashka. I won't turn away from you."
Taras could feel the heat of Lasha's breath on his lips. The proximity made him think of Barshai, what the dancer had done back at Lasha's apartment, the things he had whispered into the phone.
He closed his eyes, briefly.
"I won't leave you."
Taras ran his tongue over his lips, then pressed them together.
"Ya vas snayu," he breathed, then surged the rest of the way forward, mouth catching Isaev's lips with sudden violence, his kiss clumsy and hungry.
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He felt a relentless pounding inside of him, running from brow to chest, then straight down to his groin.
"I'm not him," he whispered.
Taras leaned forward as he spoke, shifting his weight, his hand pressing against Isaev's stomach.
He dug his fingers in, to keep his hand from shaking. Isaev's stomach tightened reflexively, the solid, burning heat of muscle hard and taut underneath firm skin.
Taras swallowed.
"I'm not him, Lashka. I won't turn away from you."
Taras could feel the heat of Lasha's breath on his lips. The proximity made him think of Barshai, what the dancer had done back at Lasha's apartment, the things he had whispered into the phone.
He closed his eyes, briefly.
"I won't leave you."
Taras ran his tongue over his lips, then pressed them together.
"Ya vas snayu," he breathed, then surged the rest of the way forward, mouth catching Isaev's lips with sudden violence, his kiss clumsy and hungry.