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Goncharov’s knees ached on the hard cement beneath them. His hands, bound behind his back, had already been chafed by the coarse rope looping just-this-side of too tight around his wrists, secured to the bindings around his ankles so he couldn’t even try and lift them. Rough fabric had been tied over his eyes, thick enough he couldn’t even get a hint of the basement’s harsh dangling lightbulb through it. Utterly helpless, utterly trapped.
It was a delicate game they played, as agents of the organisations they served. A dance that he had always known could end like this.
A part of him remained convinced he could hear the ticking of the watch in his pocket, each second stretching longer and longer; each time he thought it had finally stopped, one more tick would pass. He knew though, eventually, his clock would tick its last tock and that would be it.
The waiting was almost worse than whatever they surely had planned for him.
A hand, unexpected, unknown, suddenly slipped into his hair and pulled tight enough to make him gasp, the silence of the room beyond the phantom ticking shattered finally.
“That’s it, koten’ka, open up for me.” He hadn’t even heard Andrey approach, and the air of the man’s breath on his ear made Goncharov shudder.
“Wha—“ he began, but was quickly cut off, two of Andrey’s fingers shoving roughly past his lips.
“No, that’s enough out of you. Be a good boy, now.”
Goncharov considered biting down for a moment. Just a moment. It would serve Andrey right, but he couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine and straight to the base of his cock at the drag of those familiar callouses over his lips, his tongue.
The familiar click and hiss of Andrey’s lighter and the smell of the Nazionale cigarettes that he’d developed a taste for since they had come to the country distracted him for a moment. Goncharov’s eyes watered as the fingers hit the back of his throat, the wet choke as he tried to swallow echoing around the room. It was chased quickly by Andrey’s laughter.
“Now, now, koten’ka, you’re getting… sloppy. You were trained better than that, weren’t you?” he crooned, letting the smoke from the cigarette tickle Goncharov’s nose as he leaned in close.
“But maybe that’s all you are now, hm? Just a sloppy, needy old man… desperate for a firm hand and a goal to pursue, yes?”
Goncharov almost thought himself safe for a moment before there was a hard snort and the tip of Andrey’s shoe pressed against the damning bulge in his slacks. He felt himself throb again under the unsympathetic weight of leather and cloth trapping his cock, sucking harder at Andrey’s fingers to try and distract from the delicious ache between his thighs.
“Oh yes, you liked that, didn’t you? It must be true. What was it you said when you joined this little outfit? You ‘lived to serve’ wasn’t it? Don’t worry, pet, we will make sure you have something to service.”
Goncharov’s pulse quickened and he could feel an obscene line of drool run down his chin and fall away into the void as Andrey’s fingers sped up and he heard the low growl of a zip being undone.
“What an eager little slut you are… we’ll see if you earn a reward, hm?”
The fingers in his mouth were pulled out without warning, and he knew what Andrey wanted to see— he let his mouth hang open, could feel his lips tingle and knew they would already be red and swollen. He let his tongue poke out, the groan that escaped entirely too earnest.
The heat and weight of Andrey’s gaze on him, even if he couldn’t see it, was enough to have Goncharov’s cock straining once more in his trousers. He wondered if Andrey would allow him the dishonour of desperately grinding his cock against the ground to try and get off. He already knew Andrey wouldn’t let him cum against his shoes.
Andrey’s cock dragged down his cheek, pre smearing over stubble-coated skin as it went until Goncharov could feel the heavy swell of his balls resting on his tongue. The hand in his hair pressed him closer, forcing him to grind against Andrey.
“Get to work, slut— show me that talented mouth of yours, since your sharp words have all dried up. Otherwise I might just have to use that tongue as an ashtray instead.”
Goncharov only needed another slight tightening of Andrey’s fingers in his hair before he began. He rolled the balls around with his tongue, dragging it through the short hairs of his sack, sucking each into his mouth, careful with his teeth already.
Andrey must have been waiting for this for some time, because he didn’t take long to seize Goncharov’s face in hand and guide his cock to the man’s lips.
“Kiss it, slut, kiss my cock the way you could never properly kiss Katya,” Andrey hissed at him. “I know how sweet her best kisses are— you could never deserve them. She would enjoy seeing you like this though, wouldn’t she? So shameful and excited to be used.”
Fuck, Andrey knew how to get to him. It was like his lost eye could see into the darkest parts of Goncharov’s soul and the man was determined to unravel every thread of indecency inside him and drag it into the open. His own cock was leaking steadily, and he knew that if he could see himself, the charcoal grey trousers would have a telltale dark patch over his right hip.
His lips and tongue worked Andrey’s cock with more passion than he had ever been able to summon for his wife, the wet smack of his lips and the lewd pop as he pulled back utterly obscene in the basement’s otherwise silence, save for the occasional whisper as Andrey let out another plume of smoke.
“Yes, that’s it, koten’ka, oh fuck— you love this, don’t you? You were wasted as both a boyevik and as a soldato, when you should have been like this whenever possible. A set of wet, eager holes are much rarer than an idiot who can swing a fist or a bat or shoot a gun.”
He could hear the ragged edges of Andrey’s words fray further as he started to roll his hips into Goncharov’s mouth.
All Goncharov had to do was keep his mouth open, his tongue wet, and let himself be used. Just a toy for Andrey to fuck.
His jaw clicked as it was pushed wider to accommodate the thick shaft of Andrey’s cock as he pressed more and more of himself inside. It made Goncharov moan and his eyes slipped closed even beneath the lightless privacy of the blindfold covering them.
He loved it. He couldn’t help it.
His blood pounded deliciously as his throat opened for Andrey, whole body slipping away as his awareness and focus dwindled to his lips, his mouth, and his throat. Even his cock had to be ignored, though it kept giving hopeful twitches every now and then.
Goncharov got lost in the rhythm of Andrey’s thrusts, even as that rhythm shifted, slowing at times, then speeding back up. It took him until he received a rough slap on one of his cheeks to realise Andrey had been speaking to him again.
“You really are just a dumb, perverted little toy at heart, aren’t you, Goncharov?” the man laughed, tugging Goncharov’s head back until his neck ached from the angle. He swallowed around Andrey’s cock again, chest heaving beneath his shirt and coat— he could feel the hard little tips of his nipples dragging against the expensive cotton with those breaths too.
“Take a deep breath, you pathetic, dripping mess. I’m going to fuck your face now like you deserve and I don’t care if you pass out,” Andrey continued.
Andrey always made good on his promises, Goncharov knew that. There was a reason people were so eager to believe Andrey had plucked out his own eye after his former Boss had demanded it as reparations after Andrey had failed a task he’d been given.
Goncharov took as deep a breath as he could manage before Andrey started fucking his mouth more brutally than he ever had before.
And there was nothing he could do about it— even when he choked or spluttered, Andrey just continued. After one particularly harsh gag, he grabbed Goncharov by the throat, and Goncharov felt like his face was burning as Andrey commented on how far his cock could go down Goncharov’s cumdump of a throat, and showed him exactly where the tip sat by squeezing his neck just below it.
His eyes were watering before long, mouth shiny and jaw drenched in drool and pre and tears all mixed together.
Andrey’s breathing turned into hot gasps above him, the man’s thighs crowding against Goncharov’s jaw, hips driving his cock deep and rough into the slick, tight heat of the throat wrapped around it.
He couldn’t taste it, could only feel the wet rush of cum in his throat and hear the harsh grunts as Andrey finally hit his peak. He pulled back after the first few shots, letting the salty tang of his cum coat Goncharov’s mouth, and even, once he pulled out, let a final pair of splashes coat his lips and chin.
Both men were silent except for their breaths as they came down from their highs.
Goncharov let the cum in his mouth linger, admitting to himself that he… liked it. He liked the— the evidence, he supposed, that he did a good job. That he had pleased Andrey.
Cold metal touching his wrist for a moment before the sawing snick of rope being cut through by an exceedingly sharp knife made him swallow quickly on reflex. Andrey’s knife could pare down to the bone, with how sharp he kept it. More reliable, Andrey had said, than a gun, and so much more persuasive, and useful to boot.
Goncharov’s arms fell limply by his side, the feeling still gone, the static prickle of pins-and-needles the only thing he could properly feel, though he could swing them back and forth some as blood returned.
“You have three minutes to make yourself cum, koten’ka,” Andrey told him, clearly kneeling down behind him, knife whipping around and slicing several buttons off his shirt, baring his chest and its field of dark hair to the basement. Goncharov wasn’t sure if he was holding the knife still when Andrey’s fingers started pinching and pulling at his nipples, drawing a low moan from him.
“Go on, touch your cock while I play with these nice tits of yours. Better hurry,” Andrey prompted.
Goncharov scrambled to comply, fingers clumsy still, almost ripping his trousers open as he quickly fished out his cock. It felt shockingly hard in his hand, and he gasped as his fist closed around it, thighs twitching. He didn’t have time, though— he needed, fuck, he needed to cum so badly he could barely think.
His hand flew up and down his cock as he jerked himself off, Andrey’s hands on his chest spurring him on. Occasionally Andrey would pinch his nipple and pull his hand away until the nub snapped back against his chest, and then Andrey would grope his pec as he whispered in his ear about what a good slut his kitten was for him.
He teased him, too, about whether or not he would get to cum before the time limit, and how he was surprised he hadn’t already spilled all over himself as soon as he got a hand back on his cock.
Goncharov bucked into his fist, whining, face screwed up in concentration— he was so close, almost there. He just needed a little more.
“Time’s up,” Andrey announced with a cruel laugh, and Goncharov hissed as his hand was forcefully yanked off his cock, but that seemed to be the final straw, the last little shove he needed to get off. The prospect of being denied.
Hot cum streaked out along his trouser leg and onto the floor as his cock hung heavy, jerking up and down as Goncharov came, straining against Andrey’s arm holding his hands back so he couldn’t touch himself further.
“That’s it, slut, let it all out. You were so full, weren’t you? No wonder you were so desperate.”
Once Goncharov’s cock was twitching but spent, limp once more, Andrey released him.
His head was tilted up and Andrey’s lips were pressed to his— a final surprise. And then the blindfold dropped away.
“Thank you,” Goncharov managed after the kiss, blinking his eyes back into focus on Andrey.
“You’re welcome, koten’ka, now clean up your mess.”