Chapter 9: Josh and Andrei
The steam still clung to Josh’s skin as he pulled on his sweatpants and black t-shirt in Vlad’s secret lounge, the scent of sex and sweat faint thanks to state of the art air conditioning. He grabbed the nondescript brown paper bag Vlad had pressed into his hands – heavier than expected – slipped it into his gym duffel and slung it over his shoulder. The stool still stood askew, dark stains soaking into the crimson carpet beneath it.
He embraced Vlad, who kissed him on both cheeks and sent him on his way. Josh pushed through the heavy door separating Vlad’s den from the slightly less illicit office space. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a stark contrast to the dim lounge. Andrei was nowhere to be seen, probably having found someone else already. Instead, leaning casually against Vlad’s cluttered desk, was a man Josh hadn’t seen before.
He was younger than Vlad, maybe mid-twenties, with sharp Slavic features – high cheekbones, a strong jawline currently set in a neutral expression. Dark, neatly trimmed hair, expensive-looking dark jeans, a fitted black t-shirt that showed off lean muscle beneath. Not meaty like Andrei, but wiry-strong. His eyes, a cool, assessing grey, tracked Josh’s movement instantly. There was an alertness about him, a stillness that felt more like coiled tension than relaxation.
"Josh," the man stated, his voice smooth, accented but precise. Not a question. He pushed off the desk, standing fully upright. He was tall, almost Josh’s height, but leaner. "Dmitri Volkov. I am to escort you out."
Josh stopped a few feet away, dropping his duffel bag onto a worn leather chair. "Thank you. No Andrei?" Josh raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over Dmitri. Expensive cologne, subtle but distinct. Polished boots.
A flicker of something – irritation? amusement? – crossed Dmitri’s impassive face. "Ah, he is otherwise disposed I believe." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But he will see you another time surely." His grey eyes didn’t waver, but Josh caught the slight tightening around them. Needy, Vlad had said. Andrei was more impatient than Vlad had thought?
Josh chuckled, low and with warmth. "Escort me? Like I’m visiting royalty?" He hefted his gym bag back onto his shoulder. "After you."
Dmitri’s lips thinned almost imperceptibly. "As you say, Mr. Carter." The formality felt deliberate, a barrier. "The car is downstairs." He gestured towards the office door leading out to the rest of the house.
Josh held Dmitri’s gaze. The guy was stiff, professional, radiating an air of controlled impatience. Probably ex-military or private security. Used to giving orders, not taking shit. Josh felt the familiar itch beneath his skin, the low thrum of irritation that often preceded his interventions. This prickly efficiency, this entitled presumption, it grated. He imagined Dmitri sneering at someone weaker in the gym, maybe mocking a newbie’s form. The image solidified his resolve. A little rewiring might be in order. For justice, naturally. He'd speak to Vlad.
"Alright, Dmitri," Josh said, his voice softening into his deceptive, easy charm. He smiled, the kind smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Lead the way. Wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting," he said, watching Dmitri’s jaw tighten again. Oh yes, this one needed softening up. But this was Vlad's territory, so he made a note and left it there.
Dmitri led him silently through the plush, dimly lit corridor of Vlad's domain, past heavy oak doors muffling indistinct sounds. The air smelled faintly of expensive cigars and old money. Josh felt the weight of his duffel, the brown paper bag a satisfying reminder of Vlad’s gratitude.
They reached the staircase, carpeted in the same deep crimson as the secret lounge, but far more worn, its polished mahogany banister gleaming under discreet downlights. Dmitri started down first, his movements precise, economical, almost soundless. Josh started to follow, the tread of his trainers soft on the thick pile. The air grew warmer, carrying a hint of expensive cologne and something sharper, more primal.
Before they'd taken two steps, a muffled sound stopped them—a low, guttural grunt from behind a heavy oak door slightly ajar. Dmitri paused, head tilting fractionally. Then, a voice, thick with need and barely restrained impatience, cut through the quiet: "Uncle Josh?"
Dmitri’s expression didn’t change. "Andrei," he stated flatly, turning his cool grey eyes towards Josh. He gestured curtly towards the doorway, an unspoken command. "He’s waiting." Dmitri didn't move to follow, his posture shifting into that of a sentry.
Josh pushed the door open wider. The room wasn't what he expected. It was a study, lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, dominated by a massive mahogany desk. But the occupant wasn't reading.
Andrei leaned against the front of the desk, facing the door. His tailored black suit jacket hung open, revealing a thickly muscled, hairy chest adorned with a prominent, intricate tattoo snaking over one pectoral and down his ribs. A cigarette dangled precariously from his lips, trailing a thin wisp of smoke. His suit trousers were unzipped, flies gaping open but completely filled by the protuberance of Andrei's fat cock. His right hand was stroking with slow, deliberate pulls on the massive member that was half-hard and already glistening at the swollen head. Precum smeared his knuckles.
His face was a sculpture of hard angles – a brutal jawline, sharp cheekbones. Piercing, deep-set eyes, the color of storm clouds, locked onto Josh with terrifying focus, seeming to strip away pretense and see only the object of his immediate, consuming need. A pale, thin scar traced a faint line across his left cheekbone, a stark testament to violence faced. His hands, even the one busy at his groin, were adorned with heavy silver rings and a chunky luxury watch; the fingers not occupied were clenched tight into fists, tendons standing out like cables, radiating a simmering, barely contained intensity. He exuded raw intimidation, the air crackling with the force of a man utterly accustomed to command, to taking precisely what he wanted. His gaze was predatory, hungry, and completely unwavering. Andrei wasn't just waiting; he was a dangerous, darkly alluring presence demanding submission. A force to be reckoned with.
He took a slow drag on the cigarette, the ember flaring in the dim light of the desk lamp. Smoke streamed from his nostrils as he spoke, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that vibrated with contained power. "My apologies, Uncle. But the cock wants what it wants, if you still believe I am worthy of your time?" His stroking hand didn't pause, the slick, rhythmic sound of flesh on flesh impossibly loud in the book-lined silence. He looked Josh up and down, lingering on the bulge in the sweatpants, a predator assessing his prey. "I worried you may lose track of me in Vlad's sloppy hole."
Josh didn’t flinch. He dropped his duffel bag just inside the door with a soft thud, meeting Andrei’s piercing gaze head-on. He let his own kind smile surface, the one that hid the electric thrill sparking through him. "I always have time for you, sweet Andrei," Josh replied, his voice calm, kind, contrasting sharply with Andrei’s natural raw intensity. He took a step further into the room, his eyes drifting pointedly down to Andrei’s working hand, the thick shaft dark and veined in his grip. "Looks like you might not need me afterall?"
A harsh bark of laughter escaped Andrei, almost girlish. "I need you every day, Uncle, but I take whatever you can give to me" He removed the cigarette from his mouth with his left hand, extinguishing it in the full ashtray on the desk. He had been patient. Kind of. "Waiting’s the hard fucking part." He pushed himself off the desk, taking two powerful strides towards Josh. The movement made his heavy cock sway, fully hard now and jutting aggressively from his open flies. "You kept me waiting, Uncle Josh." The epithet dripped with mocking challenge, laced with undeniable hunger.
He stopped barely a foot away, radiating heat and the scent of tobacco, expensive sandalwood cologne, and male musk. His free hand shot out, surprisingly fast, and grabbed the front of Josh’s t-shirt. The fabric bunched in his fist, adorned with heavy rings that pressed cold against Josh’s chest. "Gotta make up for that." His grip hauled Josh forward, bringing their faces inches apart. Andrei’s breath was hot, smelling of smoke and coffee. "Gonna make me wait longer?"
Josh didn't resist the pull. He let himself be drawn close, his own arousal a hard pulse answering Andrei’s. "Depends," Josh murmured, his gaze unwavering, his smile turning sharp, dangerous. He reached down, his fingers brushing the back of Andrei’s hand, the one still gripping his cock. "On what you want made up." His fingers closed over Andrei’s, adding pressure to the stroke. "Want me to finish what you started?" He squeezed, feeling the hot, slick hardness beneath his touch, the thick vein pulsing. "Or something... messier?"
Andrei’s grip tightened on Josh’s shirt, his knuckles whitening beneath the heavy silver rings. The storm-grey eyes bored into Josh’s, a flicker of predatory amusement replacing the impatience. "Messier?" The word rumbled from his chest, thick with smoke and promise. His cock throbbed visibly in their combined grip, a slick, purple-headed beast demanding attention. "You know what I like, Uncle. Don’t play coy."
He released Josh’s shirt with a shove that wasn’t quite aggressive, more a dismissal of distance. Stepping back to the massive desk, Andrei braced his powerful hands on the polished mahogany edge. He deliberately spread his legs wider, the expensive suit trousers gaping obscenely around the base of his formidable erection. Precum glistened like dew on the swollen crown, trailing a thick strand down the meaty shaft. "Make it filthy," he commanded, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper that scraped the air. "Drown it."
Josh’s own cock strained against his sweatpants, the image of Andrei’s raw demand hitting him deep. This wasn’t Vlad’s eager worship; this was a challenge, a demand for abject service from a man used to taking. It made Josh’s pulse hammer, a dark thrill coiling low in his belly, making his own asshole clench involuntarily. He loved Vlad, loved his slavish devotion, but the sheer, untamed devotion Andrei craved… it sparked something primal, dangerous. His asshole quivered again, a traitorous beat of excitement beneath the calm mask.
He dropped to his knees on the plush Persian rug, the movement fluid, deliberate. The scent of Andrei’s musk, tobacco, and expensive cologne flooded his senses, thick and heady. Up close, the sheer size of Andrei’s cock was imposing, a veined pillar of flesh demanding worship. Josh didn’t tease. He leaned forward, opened his mouth wide, and engulfed the slick head in one smooth motion. Heat, salt, the iron tang of precum burst across his tongue. Andrei grunted, a sound of pure satisfaction, his hips giving an involuntary thrust that shoved the thick head deeper against Josh’s palate.
Josh pulled back slowly, letting his lips drag wetly along the shaft, gathering a thick sheen of spit. He looked up, meeting Andrei’s stormy gaze. "Like that, Sir?" His voice was muffled, thick with saliva already pooling in his mouth.
"Wetter," Andrei growled, his voice straining. "Sloppy. Like the whore you are for it."
Josh obeyed, lowering his head again. This time, he pushed further, taking half the thick length, letting his jaw stretch wide. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard, then relaxed, allowing saliva to flood his mouth unimpeded. He worked his tongue deliberately along the underside of the shaft, swirling around the pulsing vein, coaxing out more precum. The sounds began immediately: thick, wet slurps, the slick drag of flesh on flesh, the guttural catch of Josh’s breath around the intrusion. Drool escaped the corners of his stretched lips, trailing down his chin in thick rivulets, dripping onto his shirt and the rug below.
He pulled off with a loud, sucking pop, a thick strand of saliva snapping and dangling from his lips to the glistening cock. He didn’t pause. Taking a deep, audible breath through his nose, he forced a deep, rattling cough from his chest, deep in his lungs. He gathered the phlegm, thick and viscous, letting it pool heavily on his tongue, a visible glob of opaque mucus. He held Andrei’s fierce gaze, seeing the raw hunger flare brighter, then leaned forward and spat it deliberately onto the weeping head of Andrei’s cock. The thick, cloudy glob landed with a wet splat, sliding slowly down the sensitive ridge.
"FUCK!" Andrei roared, his body jerking. "YES! MORE!" His hand slammed down on the desk, rattling the ashtray.
Josh plunged his mouth back down, taking the phlegm-smeared cock deep. He gagged instantly as the thick head hit the back of his throat, the sensation triggering another reflexive cough. More hot phlegm surged up, thick ropes of it choking him as Andrei’s cock forced it deeper. He didn’t fight it; he used it. He swallowed convulsively around the intrusion, but deliberately let the excess spill out, mixing with the torrents of saliva already flowing freely. GURK-HUCK! SCHLLLURP! The noises were obscene, wet, gagging, choking sounds punctuated by Josh’s ragged attempts to breathe through his nose, snot now joining the mess dripping from his nostrils.
Tears streamed from Josh’s eyes, blurring his vision, the sting of the phlegm and the brutal stretch of his throat a heady cocktail of discomfort and dark pleasure. His jaw ached, his throat burned, but the sight of Andrei above him – head thrown back, face contorted in ecstasy, powerful thighs trembling, fingers clawing at the desk edge – was intoxicating. Josh’s own neglected cock throbbed painfully in his sweats, a dull ache mirrored by the persistent, excited clenching deep in his ass. He redoubled his efforts, bobbing his head with punishing speed, forcing himself deeper onto the thick shaft with every downstroke, intentionally triggering his gag reflex. GAG-GLK! HURK! Thick, ropy strands of choked-up phlegm mixed with saliva cascaded down Andrei’s balls and thighs with every withdrawal, coating the dark hair, pooling on the rug. Josh gathered and slathered the fluids over Andrei's cock and balls, the sound of slickness all that mattered. The air reeked of salt, musk, and the faintly acrid tang of mucus.
"Swallow it, cunt!" Andrei snarled, his voice ragged, losing its usual controlled menace. He thrust his hips forward brutally, ramming his cock down Josh’s throat to the root, grinding the swollen head deep into the convulsing heat. Josh’s eyes rolled back, his body spasming, overwhelmed by the invasion, the lack of air, the sheer filthy abundance flooding his mouth and throat. He gagged violently, a deep, tearing sound, but forced himself to swallow around the massive intrusion, feeling the thick phlegm slide reluctantly down his own gullet. "FUCKING DRINK IT!" Andrei roared, pistoning his hips in short, brutal thrusts, fucking Josh’s face with abandon, using his throat like a cocksleeve designed solely for his brutal pleasure and the cascades of filth it produced. The wet, slapping sounds of balls against chin mingled with the choked gurgling, the ragged gasps, the symphony of degradation echoing off the leather-bound books. Josh’s world narrowed to the stretch, the burn, the taste of salt and phlegm, and the dark, undeniable thrill of being utterly used for the filth he could provide. His asshole clenched tight, a constant, involuntary pulse of dark arousal as he drowned.
Josh choked, throat convulsing, the thick head of Andrei’s cock lodged deep, forcing another surge of hot phlegm to bubble uselessly around the intrusion. He swallowed desperately, the viscous mucus scraping down his own raw gullet, tasting salt, iron, and Andrei’s brutal musk. His hands worked in tandem with his mouth on Andrei’s powerful cock, anchoring him to the relentlessly pistoning man above him, balls slapping wetly against Josh’s spit-slicked chin.
“Take it! Swallow every fucking drop, cocksucker!” Andrei snarled, his voice cracking, the tendons in his neck standing out like ropes. His grip on the desk edge was white-knuckled. He slammed deep, grinding the swollen crown against the spasming walls of Josh’s gullet, triggering a fresh wave of gagging. Josh’s vision swam, tears and snot mingling with the rivers of drool cascading down his neck, soaking his shirt. His ass clenched rhythmically, a sick counterpoint to the violation of his throat.
Andrei’s roar tore through the room, primal and guttural. His hips stuttered, then locked, driving impossibly deep as his cock pulsed violently. Thick, hot jets of cum erupted straight into Josh’s convulsing throat, a scalding flood against the raw tissue. Josh gagged, reflex trying to expel the invasion, but forced himself still. He kept his mouth sealed tight around the base, letting the salty, bitter spurts coat his tongue, pool heavily at the back of his mouth. He consciously savoured the experience, the overwhelming taste of Andrei’s release, holding it.
He pulled off slowly, deliberately, letting the thick cum spill over his tongue as the fat head popped free with a wet, sucking gasp. A thick, pearly strand of jizz stretched from his bottom lip to Andrei’s glistening tip. Josh held Andrei’s furious, storm-cloud gaze, letting his tongue slowly explore the viscous load coating his mouth, tasting every nuance. He swallowed visibly, a thick gulp, then opened his mouth slightly, showing the milky remnants on his tongue. “All yours, Sir,” Josh rasped, voice shredded, raw.
For a breath, Andrei just watched him, chest heaving, his expression shifting. The fury bled away, replaced by a profound, sated exhaustion, a flicker of something almost kind and appreciative in those hard eyes. He reached out a surprisingly gentle hand, calloused fingers brushing a strand of sweat-soaked hair from Josh’s damp forehead. “Good boy,” he rumbled, the gravel in his voice softening. “Perfect fucking mouth.”
Then Andrei’s gaze flickered past Josh’s shoulder. His expression didn’t harden, but it shifted, becoming watchful, guarded. Josh turned his head, following Andrei’s line of sight.
Dmitri stood framed in the doorway he’d left open. He didn't move. His appreciation and interest clear in his bearing. His breathing was slightly elevated, his cool grey eyes fixed intently on Josh’s spit-slicked face, his cum-stained lips, then dropping hungrily to the thick, softening cock still jutting from Andrei’s open flies. Dmitri’s other hand was subtly, rhythmically rubbing the prominent bulge tenting his own dark trousers.
Andrei let out a low, satisfied chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest. He didn’t adjust his clothing. “See something you like, Dimka?” His voice held a possessive edge, but also… permission?
Dmitri’s gaze snapped up to Andrei’s face, his own expression unreadable, but the movement in his pocket didn’t stop. “He services you well, boss,” he stated, his voice tight, controlled, yet thick with an undercurrent Josh hadn’t heard before. Raw want.
“The best,” Andrei affirmed, his hand resting possessively on Josh’s head, fingers tangling roughly in his blond hair. He looked down at Josh, that flicker of kindness returning. “Only man I let fuck me, you know. Only one.” The words hung in the air, heavy with implication, a revelation wrapped in absolute possession. Josh felt a jolt of pure, electric curiosity cut through his haze. Only Dmitri? Why? The dynamic was suddenly, intensely compelling.
Josh’s mind raced, the hypnosis itch flaring. Vlad’s territory, Vlad’s rules. Hypnotizing Dmitri here, now, felt treacherous. Unwise. He needed another way in. He met Dmitri’s intense stare, seeing the hunger barely leashed. He let his tongue swipe slowly over his lower lip, catching a stray drop of Andrei’s cum. He turned his head, looking up at Andrei, his expression open, submissive, but with a spark of challenge. “He looks hungry, Sir,” Josh murmured, his shredded voice a low rasp. “Looks like he wants… this well-used mouth.” He gestured vaguely towards his own face, still a mess.
Andrei’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He glanced between Josh and Dmitri, the power dynamic shifting palpably under the dim light.
Dmitri took a half-step forward, a silent question burning in his gaze. “Boss?”
Josh pushed up onto his knees, his body aching, but his focus sharp. He kept his gaze locked on Andrei, projecting raw need, submission, but also offering. “Let him have me, Sir,” Josh breathed. He reached out a trembling, spit-slick hand, laying it gently on Andrei’s thick, hairy thigh, just above the knee. “Right here. While you watch. Your gift… to him?” He paused, letting the suggestion sink in, then added the crucial anchor. “You’d stay? Keep watch? Make sure…” He let his voice trail off, implying limits, safety, without ever stating it. “Make sure he treats your property right?”
Andrei’s gaze sharpened, the possessiveness flaring hot at the word ‘property’. He looked from Josh’s earnest, cum-stained face to Dmitri’s barely contained tension. A slow, dangerous smile spread across Andrei’s scarred face. He leaned back against the desk edge, crossing his powerful arms over his chest, his softening cock still proudly on display. He gave a single, curt nod towards Dmitri, his eyes never leaving Josh. “Show him how Vlad’s prize bitch sucks cock, Dimka,” Andrei commanded, his voice low and dark. “But remember who he belongs to. Fuck his mouth, not his manners. I’m watching.” His gaze was a physical weight, a promise of retribution if lines were crossed. The shield was in place.