hand was still on his softened cock, but loosely. Not stroking now. Just holding it while he held Yuri safe.
“Is that better?” Angelo asked.
“God,” was all Yuri could say. His brain had gone totally offline.
“Come on, you need to get off my lap. You’re making my legs go to sleep.”
Yuri obligingly stood up, then wavered as the blood dropped from his head to the rest of his body. He stumbled, tripped over the jeans wadded up around his ankles, and started to fall. “Fuck!”
Angelo caught Yuri and steadied him. “I’m not sure which would be easier—pulling your jeans back up or just taking them off.”
Yuri panted and shivered and felt like he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The aftermath of his orgasm had started to hit. “If you want easy, definitely coming off. But that wouldn’t be the smart option.”
“What’s the smart option?”
While Yuri stood there, dick and arse hanging out and jeans around his ankles, Angelo put an arm around him and pulled him tight against Angelo’s large, fully clothed frame.
“I get dressed,” Yuri said glumly. “I go back to Oxford. We go on as we have. I try to behave myself.”
“And what do you want, Yuri? What do you want to do?”
Tears pricked Yuri’s eyes. He was always emotional after being disciplined and while he hadn’t broken down and cried this time, he often did, and even now the tears were just barely below the surface and it would take very little to make them spill. He should leave, yes, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
“Will you hold me? Just that, I swear. Nothing more. Just hold me. Just for a little while.”
Angelo reached out and swept a lock of hair off Yuri’s forehead then continued to pet him. After a few seconds, he said, “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.”
18
Angelo Goes for It
Angelo ended up sitting on his sofa with a now naked Yuri cuddled into him on his lap. It was odd. Very, very odd. Nearly surreal. But it was more, too. Yuri’s skin was petal soft and he lay sweetly pliant in Angelo’s arms. He would have never admitted it to anyone in a million years, but as much as he loved spanking Yuri—it was one of his favorite things to do, lord knew why—he enjoyed the time after even more. It made him feel strong, and important, and necessary. Powerful in a way that he could never completely or accurately describe to himself, let alone anyone else.
Shortly after they’d settled down, Yuri began to cry quietly and softly, wetting the front of Angelo’s shirt.
“Are you all right?” Angelo whispered into Yuri’s hair, breathing in the familiar scents of his own shampoo and Yuri himself.
Yuri nodded and hiccupped. “I n-need this. I’m sorry, but I need this. N-need it so bad. S-sorry.”
“Shh.” Without thinking about it, Angelo kissed the top of Yuri’s head. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. I’m here.”
For some reason, that made Yuri cry even harder, so Angelo did the only thing he could do—he held Yuri and let him cry as much as he needed to. Angelo wondered exactly how and why they’d gotten to this point and how, despite everything, he wouldn’t exchange the very troublesome man in his arms for anyone.
When Yuri started to shiver, Angelo stood, setting Yuri onto his feet.
“Is it time for me to go?” he asked.
“Not unless you want to. I was going to get you a blanket. And if you want, more tea.”
“I… um…” Yuri looked up at Angelo and blinked those damned big blue eyes of his. “I don’t suppose you have any cocoa.”
Angelo grinned and felt something strange tighten within his chest. “I might. Just stay here.” Even knowing how Yuri used his eyes and long lashes to get pretty much anything he'd ever wanted, Angelo still leapt to do his bidding. It seemed he was far from immune to Yuri's wiles. That should have bothered him, but all it did was make him want to give the man anything he wanted or needed.
That, in and of itself, was a terrifying idea.
In the bedroom, Angelo looked down at the bed he'd neglected to make. Both pillows still had the indents of their heads. He could still detect, just barely, the scent their earlier activities had left in the air. He'd done things—gay things—with a gay man. What did that even make him? Because he pictured various other men in his bed and the thoughts were either ridiculous or completely