Chapter 3: Rising Action
Matthew entered his office, sure he was going to be accosted from all corners about his first meeting with Yuri. Indeed, he found a post-it note on his keyboard that said "See me - Carrie." He sighed, rolling his eyes, and made his way to her office. He knocked on her door frame, and she looked up from her desk, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun.
"Morning, Carrie," he said, attempting to sound chipper even though he was already exhausted.
"Morning, Matthew," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "I take it you had a productive evening last night?"
Matthew didn't miss a beat. "Always," he said with a smirk.
Carrie raised an eyebrow. "I hope you weren't too... aggressive.
We need to tread carefully here, Matthew," Carrie warned, her voice serious.
Matthew walked into her office and closed the door behind him, taking a seat in front of her desk. "I know, Carrie. I'm not an idiot. I know the risks involved here."
Carrie leaned forward, her elbows resting on her desk. "So where do we stand?" she asked.
"I convinced him to come with me to the safe house. I gave him all the instructions to arrange a meeting. He didn't commit, but I think he will," said Matthew.
"He was definitely interested in what I had to say."
Carrie nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Good. We need to be patient with this one. He's not just some low-level operative. He's a diplomat, and his defection could cause a major rift between our countries if we're not careful."
"I understand," Matthew said. "I'm not going to rush him. We need to build trust, and that takes time."
Carrie sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I just hope we have enough time. The war in Ukraine is escalating, and we need all the intel we can get.
We think he's our best shot at getting some inside information on what's really going on over there," Carrie explained.
Matthew nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I'll do whatever it takes to get him on board. I promise."
Carrie smiled at him, her expression softening. "I know you will, Matt. That's why I trust you with this. Just... be careful. We can't afford any slip-ups."
Matthew stood up and walked back to his desk, his mind racing with everything he knew about Yakov.
If he was going to turn Yakov, he needed to understand his motivations, his fears, his dreams. He opened the file he had been building on Yakov, his fingers dancing over the keyboard as he inputted new information.
He knew Yakov was born in Lviv, the same city his mother hailed from. He knew Yakov had a degree in International Relations from Moscow State University. He knew that Yakov's father was a high-ranking officer in the Russian military. He knew that Yakov joined the Ministry of Foreign Affairs after graduation, rising through the ranks to become a diplomat in Prague.
But there were things he didn't know.
Things he needed to find out if he was going to turn Yakov.
Suddenly he heard a knock on his office door. It was Josh.
He stuck his head in, a cup of coffee in hand. "Morning, Matt," he said, his voice cheery despite the early hour. "You look like you've been up all night."
Matthew rubbed his temples and smiled weakly. "Just a late night. Nothing to worry about."
Josh raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Uh-huh. And I suppose that 'late night' had nothing to do with a certain Russian diplomat?"
Matthew looked up at Josh, a mixture of guilt and amusement in his eyes.
"You know me too well, Josh," he said, taking the coffee gratefully and sipping it.
Josh sat down in the chair next to Matthew's desk, his eyes scanning the file open on the computer screen.
"You're not going to believe what I have to tell you," said Josh, barely containing his excitement. Matthew arched an eyebrow, unsure of what to expect.
"My agent just sent me a signal from the Wallenstein Gardens. Yakov already made a drop at the secure spot. He wants to meet you again tonight. 8 at the safe house," said Josh with a grin.
Matthew's eyes widened in surprise. "Tonight? That's fast," he said, his mind racing. He quickly replayed the events of the previous night in his head, trying to pinpoint what had shifted Yakov's perspective so quickly.
"Maybe he's more on board than we thought," offered Josh. "Or maybe he just can't resist your charm."
Matthew rolled his eyes, but he knew Josh was right. Yakov was drawn to him, and he wouldn't deny the attraction he felt towards the Russian diplomat. He just hoped that it wouldn't cloud his judgment.
He needed to keep his wits about him, especially when dealing with someone as complex and potentially dangerous as Yakov.
"That's great news, Josh. Thank you for letting me know," Matthew said, gratitude in his voice.
Josh nodded, leaning back in his chair. "I just hope this isn't some trick. You know how these guys are. They're trained to spot and exploit vulnerabilities."
Matthew nodded, his expression serious. I won't let my guard down.
Josh stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "Keep me posted. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said with a devilish grin.
"I'll try to control myself," Matthew replied dryly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "But no promises."
Josh laughed, clapping Matthew on the back as he left the office. "See you later, Matt. And good luck tonight."
Matthew watched Josh leave, a sense of anticipation and trepidation swirling in his stomach. He knew that tonight was a pivotal moment, a chance to push Yakov over the edge and secure a valuable asset. But he also knew that one wrong move could blow everything.
He spent the rest of the day preparing, going over his notes on Yakov and the situation in Ukraine.
He wanted to be ready for anything, to show Yakov that he was serious about helping him and his country.
As the clock ticked down to 8 PM, Matthew found himself pacing his apartment, his nerves on edge. He knew he needed to keep his cool, to show Yakov that he was in control. But inside, he was a mess of conflicting emotions - excitement, fear, and a deep, gnawing sense of guilt.
He thought about Oliver, about the promise he had made to him. He knew that his husband would be worried, would be waiting up for him.
He wished he could be honest with Oliver, wished he could tell him about the danger and the thrill of it all. But he knew that he couldn't. He couldn't risk putting Oliver in harm's way, couldn't risk exposing him to the darkness that lurked just beneath the surface of his life.
He checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time, his heart pounding in his chest. It was almost time to go. He slipped on his coat, grabbed his keys, and headed for the door. He paused, looking back at the apartment, at the life he had built with Oliver. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.
He knew he was walking a tightrope, balancing the scales of duty and desire, of truth and deception. But he also knew that he was good at what he did, that he was one of the best at his job. And tonight, he needed to be at his best.
As he stepped out into the cold night air, he pulled up his collar and headed towards the safe house. The streets were quiet, the city bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and destruction that was unfolding in Ukraine, a reminder of why he was doing what he was doing.
He arrived at the safe house, his heart pounding in his chest.
He knocked twice, the signal they had agreed upon. A moment later, the door opened and Yakov stepped into view. He looked even more handsome than Matthew remembered, his brown hair slightly disheveled, his eyes dark with anticipation.
"Hello, Rich," he said, his voice low and husky.
Matthew felt a shiver run down his spine. "Yakov," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Yakov smiled and motioned to the couch. "It's so good to see you again. You gave me a lot to think about last night."
"Oh? And what have you decided?" Matthew asked sincerely.
Yakov chuckled and sat directly next to Matthew on the couch, causing Matthew's heart to skip a beat again. "Don't get so excited. I've decided I want to get to know you better and decide if I can trust you," Yakov said. He pulled a backpack over from the living room chair and pulled out a bottle of vodka, two shot glasses, and a case of caviar.
"I am Russian after all..." Yakov said with a grin.
Matthew wasn't terribly surprised. It would be too soon for Yakov to fully flip, and the Russians liked to play games like this.
"If you think you can drink me under the table, you're in for a surprise," Matthew said slyly. He knew Yakov was trying to test him, to see if he could keep up with a true Russian. But Matthew was no stranger to vodka himself.
Yakov laughed, pouring them each a shot. "I don't doubt it. But I've seen many good men fall to the power of our national drink."
Matthew clinked glasses with Yakov. "To new beginnings," he said before throwing back his shot. The vodka burned like fire down his throat, but he held steadily, his eyes locked onto Yakov's.
Yakov nodded, impressed. "Well done, Rich.
You have a strong constitution. I like that in a man," Yakov said, refilling their glasses.
Matthew smiled, feeling the warmth of the vodka spread through his veins. He knew how to play this game. He had played it many times before. But there was something different about Yakov, something that made him want to push the boundaries, to see just how far he could go.
"I could say the same for you, Yakov. You're not just a pretty face, are you?" Matthew replied, his voice low and husky. He knew he was flirting with danger, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
"So....." Yakov said, opening the caviar and spreading some on a cracker with a plastic knife. "Tell me about you. I need to understand who I am dealing with."
Matthew paused, unsure of how much or what to reveal. Yakov already knew he was with the CIA, but he wasn't ready to say much about himself, and definitely not about his life with Oliver.
So, he decided to stick to something generic and true.
"Well, I'm an American diplomat, born and raised in the heart of Washington D.C. I've always had a knack for languages, which is why I studied Russian at Georgetown. That's what led me to my current role here in Prague," Matthew said, taking a sip of his vodka.
Yakov leaned in, his eyes locked onto Matthew's. "And what about your personal life? Do you have someone waiting for you at home?"
Matthew felt a pang of guilt, thinking about Oliver. He pushed those feelings down and focused on the task at hand.
"No," Matthew lied. It was better if Yakov thought he was romantically available. "It's hard to maintain relationships doing what I do. Lots of travel and late nights," he said.
Yakov raised a glass to Matthew. "To two lonely hearts connecting in Prague," he said with a glint in his eye.
Matthew smiled and clinked glasses with Yakov again, feeling the vodka warming his insides.
Yakov took a bite of caviar and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste.
"I bet it's hard for you, not able to live honestly. Not able to make real connections and settle down with someone you love," Matthew said, pouring them both more vodka.
Yakov grinned. "I see you're already trying to turn the conversation back to me," he said knowingly. "I'm not that easy of a mark. I need to know more about you. What caused you run around in the shadows overseas chasing secrets and meeting strangers in barren apartments," Yakov continued.
Matthew shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “It’s complicated,” he said, taking a sip of his vodka. “Sometimes things aren’t always what they seem.”
Yakov nodded as if he understood completely. “Ah, the life of a diplomat. It’s not all balls and galas, is it?” He took another bite of caviar and followed it with a swig of vodka.
Matthew watched him, appreciating the raw masculinity of the Russian as he drank. He felt a twinge of desire in his gut that he quickly pushed down.
"Maybe I'm naive, but I feel called to serve my country. I feel like I'm making a difference, and that's what sustains me," Matthew said, honestly.
Yakov nodded, his expression softening. "I understand that. I felt that way when I first joined the Ministry. But over time, I've seen things, done things... it's hard to reconcile with the idealism of my youth."
Matthew saw an opening, a chance to connect with Yakov on a deeper level. He leaned in, his voice low and sincere. "I know what you mean. Sometimes the things we see, the things we do... they change us. They make us question everything we thought we knew."
Yakov looked at him, his eyes searching Matthew's face. "You understand, don't you?
More than anyone else does," Yakov said, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out and placed a hand on Matthew's thigh, the touch light and tentative.
Matthew felt a jolt of electricity at the contact, his breath catching in his throat. He knew he should pull away, that this was dangerous territory, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He looked into Yakov's eyes, seeing the same mix of desire and conflict that he felt himself.
"Yakov...." Matthew said, knowing this encounter could soon get out of his careful control. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea..."
Yakov pulled his hand back. "Fine. More vodka then." He poured another shot for both men. Matthew was used to these games, and his tolerance for alcohol was very high. But he sensed he was heading to dangerous territory with or without the vodka.
"You must feel like things in your country have moved in the wrong direction, and you want to do something about that," Matthew said.
Yakov nodded, his expression pained. "I have seen things... My father is a high-ranking officer in the Russian military. He has seen... things. And he tells me stories... things that make me want to puke. I know what my country is capable of, and it sickens me."
Matthew felt a surge of empathy for Yakov. He knew that feeling of being torn between loyalty to one's country and abhorrence for its actions. He had seen it in his own career, and he could see it in Yakov's eyes.
"But you're not sure who to trust, right? You're afraid that if you speak out, you'll be branded a traitor."
Yakov looked down at his glass, swirling the vodka around. "Exactly. And that's why I'm hesitant. I don't want to end up like my predecessor, a whistleblower who was silenced for good."
Matthew leaned in closer, his voice low and steady. "I get it, Yakov. And I'm not going to lie to you, it's a risk. But I can promise you one thing - you can trust me.
I'm here to help, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You have my word."
Matthew's voice was sincere, and he kept his gaze locked onto Yakov. He saw the conflict in the Russian's eyes, the desire to believe him warring with the fear of being taken for a fool.
Yakov looked up, his eyes searching Matthew's face for any sign of deceit. "You really mean that?" he asked, his voice a whisper.
Matthew nodded. "I swear it. On my life."
Yakov leaned back on the couch, the tension in his body visibly easing.
"Alright, Rich. I believe you. And I want to help, but I need to know I can trust you fully. That means no more games or secrets between us."
Matthew nodded solemnly. "I understand. You have my word that I will be completely honest with you from here on out." He paused, then took a deep breath and said, "But you need to be honest with me as well. If you have any reservations or concerns, you need to tell me. We can't build this trust without open communication."
Yakov looked down at his glass, swirling the vodka once more before taking a long sip.
He set the glass down and turned to Matthew, his expression serious. "I have reservations, Rich. Lots of them. But I'm also angry. Angry at what my country is doing, angry at the lies, the deceit, the corruption. I want to do something about it. I want to make a difference."
Matthew leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I understand that anger, Yakov. It's what drives me too. But we need to be smart about this. We can't just go charging in, guns blazing. We need to be strategic, careful.
We need to gather as much information as we can before making a move," Matthew said, his voice firm but soothing. He knew Yakov needed to hear that someone understood him, that he wasn't alone in his fight.
"So that means we'll be spending more time here then," said Yakov, setting his glass down.
"In this... safe house."
"For now," Matthew agreed. "It's the safest place for us to meet and talk. Off the grid, so to speak."
Yakov nodded, looking around the room. "It's not much, but it will do."
Matthew smiled. "It's functional. That's all that matters."
"I'm grateful for the company. It's a lonely time to be a Russian in Europe. Everyone hates us for what's happening in Ukraine," he said.
"It feels like the whole world is against us."
Matthew nodded, his expression empathetic. "I can imagine it does. And that must make things even more difficult for you, knowing what's happening but feeling powerless to stop it."
Yakov sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, exactly. That's why I need to be sure about this, Rich. I can't just jump in blindly. I need to know that I'm doing the right thing, for the right reasons."
Matthew leaned back on the couch, his nerves suddenly calming.
This was the opening he had been waiting for, the chance to get Yakov to see that they were on the same side. He set his own glass down and turned fully towards Yakov, his eyes locked onto his.
"You're right, you know. It's not just about doing the right thing, it's about making sure that you're not doing it for the wrong reasons. And that's why I'm here, Yakov. I'm not just here to turn you. I'm here to help you figure out what you really want, what you really believe in.
And then, if you decide that you want to make a difference, I'll be here to support you every step of the way."
Yakov studied Matthew's face, searching for any sign of insincerity. He saw nothing but genuine concern and understanding. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.
"Okay, Rich," he said, his voice soft. "I... I want to believe you. And I do want to make a difference. I just... I need some time to process all of this."
Matthew smiled warmly and nodded. "Of course, Yakov. You have all the time you need.
I'm not going anywhere, Yakov," Matthew said, his voice steady and reassuring.
Yakov looked down at his hands, twisting the glass in his fingers. "Thank you, Rich. That means a lot to me."
Matthew reached out and placed a hand on Yakov's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We're in this together, Yakov. Whatever you decide to do, I'll support you."
Yakov looked up at Matthew, his eyes reflecting the warmth in Matthew's gaze. He covered Matthew's hand with his own, holding it in place.
Matthew felt a magnetic pull to Yakov in that moment that he couldn't resist. He could feel both of their heads moving toward each other and felt powerless to stop it. Their lips met.
It was a soft, electric kiss that ignited a fire within Matthew. He felt a thrill of desire mixed with a sense of danger. This was new territory, and he knew he was treading on thin ice. But he couldn't pull away. Not now. Not like this.
Yakov's hand moved from Matthew's shoulder to his cheek, his fingers tenderly tracing the line of his jaw. Matthew leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. He felt a rush of adrenaline, the danger of the situation heightening his senses.
He pulled away from Yakov and tried to avert his eyes. "Yakov....I -"
Yakov placed a finger on Matthew's lips. "Don't. Just let me pretend you're a handsome guy who took me home from a bar because you wanted to kiss me," he said.
Matthew felt a rush of emotions: guilt, desire, and a deep sense of unease. He knew he should pull away, that this was dangerous territory, but he couldn't resist the pull he felt towards Yakov. He could feel the same desire reflected in Yakov's eyes, the same sense of danger and exhilaration.
"Yakov, I -" Matthew started, but Yakov cut him off by leaning in and capturing his lips once more. This time, the kiss was more urgent, more demanding. Matthew could feel the heat of Yakov's body as he pressed against him, the roughness of his hands as they explored Matthew's body.
He knew this was dangerous, that he was playing with fire, but he couldn't bring himself to push Yakov away. He was drawn to him, to the raw intensity of his touch, to the sense of danger that hung heavy in the air.
Yakov's mouth moved to Matthew's neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. Matthew let out a soft moan, his head falling back against the couch. He could feel his body responding to Yakov's touch, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Yakov...we can't..." Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper. But even as he said the words, he knew he was lying to himself.
They could, and they were. The line between duty and desire was blurring, and Matthew was tumbling headfirst into uncharted territory.
Yakov pulled back, his eyes searching Matthew's face.
"You were lying earlier," he said with that trademark sly grin. "You do have someone at home. There's no way someone like you is single."
Matthew hesitated looking back at Yakov. "You're right.....I'm married," he said honestly.
Yakov chuckled again. "That just makes me want you more."
He pushed Matthew all the way flat on his back and climbed on top of him, their kisses becoming more passionate.
Matthew could feel the weight of Yakov’s body on his, and it only turned him on more. He could feel his own arousal pressing against Yakov, and he knew that Yakov could feel it too.
Matthew pulled away from their kiss, looking up into Yakov’s eyes. “Yakov, this is dangerous. For both of us,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Yakov grinned wickedly, his eyes never leaving Matthew’s. “I like danger,” he replied, his voice low and seductive. He ground his hips against Matthew’s, the friction sending shivers down Matthew’s spine.
“You like it too,” Yakov whispered, his lips brushing against Matthew’s ear. “I can feel you.”
Matthew’s resolve was crumbling. He knew they were playing with fire, but the heat was intoxicating. He couldn’t deny the connection he felt with Yakov, the raw desire that coursed through his veins. He wrapped his arms around Yakov’s back, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of their bodies melding together.
Yakov pulled back for a moment with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And you'll come here any time I send you the signal?"
Matthew bit his lower lip and nodded.
"Then that means you belong to me now," Yakov said before diving back into another deep kiss.
Matthew felt his heart racing and his head spinning. He knew this was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn't deny the thrill he was feeling. It was dangerous, forbidden, and incredibly exciting.
He pulled away from Yakov's lips, gasping for breath. "We can't keep doing this, Yakov," he said, his voice hoarse.
Yakov chuckled darkly. "Why not? Because you're married? Or because you're afraid of what you might feel?"
Matthew shook his head. "Both. And because this is dangerous.
Very dangerous," Matthew added, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.
Yakov smirked and traced Matthew's jawline with his fingertip. "Danger is what makes life interesting, wouldn't you say?"
Matthew closed his eyes, allowing himself to be lost in the touch for a moment before pushing Yakov's hand away gently. "Not like this. This kind of danger... it's not worth it."
Yakov sat up, his eyes never leaving Matthew's.
"Ok," he said. "We can leave it there for tonight. It will give us something to look forward to next time," Yakov said getting up off of the couch.
Matthew sat up in a state of shock. He was trying to make sense of what had just happened.
He had crossed a line, a serious line, and there was no going back now. He needed to get a grip and regain control of the situation before it spiraled out of control.
"Promise me something," said Yakov as he put the vodka and caviar back in his backpack. "I only want to talk to you. If I come back to this safe house and it's anyone else, I won't cooperate. I want to keep seeing you."
Matthew nodded. He knew if anyone knew he had kissed Yakov, he would be taken off the case, which would cause them to lose Yakov as an asset. He had put himself into an incredibly difficult situation, and he would have to work to deceive even his closest friends and colleagues.
The weight of this realization hit him like a punch to the gut as he watched Yakov gather his things.
"I promise," Matthew said, his voice heavy. "It will be just us."
Yakov nodded, looking satisfied. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way towards the door. Just before he left, he circled back to Matthew and pulled him into another kiss.
"Until we meet again, handsome," he said romantically. "And one of these days, you'll tell me your real name.
He turned and walked away, closing the door behind him. Matthew stood in a state of shock. He had never let a meeting with an asset spiral out of control in this way.
He had crossed a line, and now he was playing with fire. And not just any fire – this one was hot enough to burn them both alive.
Matthew ran a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. He needed to regain control, to right the ship before it crashed against the iceberg that was Yakov. But how? The Russian was already under his skin, and Matthew knew he was in too deep to turn back now.
But maybe this wasn't as bad as he had feared. Yakov was clearly a lonely man who craved connection, and he was seeking that with Matthew. Matthew still had the upper hand in some regard - if Yakov's employers knew he was having an affair with another man, it could be the end of his career. By opening himself up sexually to Matthew, he was making himself incredibly vulnerable.
This wasn’t just a game anymore. There were real emotions at stake.
Matthew paced back and forth in the safe house, his mind racing with a thousand different thoughts and concerns. He had been so wrong about how this would play out. He had thought Yakov would be easy to recruit, a pawn in his game. But now he was so much more than that.
He looked at his watch; it was late, and he knew he should be getting home. Oliver would be waiting up for him, worried about where he was and what he was doing. But Matthew couldn’t bring himself to leave yet.
He needed to process what had just happened, to strategize his next moves. He sat down on the couch where he and Yakov had just been, his head in his hands.
He knew he should be home with Oliver right now, should be holding him, kissing him, assuring him that everything was okay. But he also knew that he couldn’t bear to face Oliver’s questions, his concern, not yet. Not when he was still reeling from what had just transpired between him and Yakov.
He sighed and looked around the safe house, at the empty vodka bottle and glasses, the half-eaten caviar.
He finally gathered himself enough to make his way back to his apartment. It was past midnight.
The streets of Prague were silent, the only sound the distant hum of a tram rattling down a side street. Matthew walked slowly, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat.
He felt the cold seeping into his bones, but it was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about Yakov, about the way he kissed, the way he smelled, the way he felt. He was in deep, and he knew it. But he also knew he couldn't afford to let it show.
As he approached his building, he saw the lights out. Oliver must have given up and gone to sleep.
Matthew let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve. He quietly made his way to the bedroom, trying not to disturb his husband. He undressed in the dark and made his way to the bathroom. He needed to wash Yakov off of him, even though they hadn't had sex. He needed a psychological reset before getting into bed with his husband.
He turned on the shower and stepped in, letting the hot water pelt his skin. He was already stealthing his own thoughts and emotions, preparing to present a calm and collected Matthew to Oliver when he inevitably woke up.
As he washed, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to Yakov. He could still feel his lips on his, the weight of his body on top of him. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. He needed to focus on Oliver, on the life he had built with him.
But his mind kept wandering back to the encounter on the couch. He wondered what it would be like to slide Yakov's shirt over his head, to see the muscles he could feel through his clothes. He thought about freeing Yakov's hard cock from his jeans after feeling his erection pressed against his own on the couch.
He wondered if Yakov would let him take the lead, or if he would prefer to be dominated. He felt himself growing hard again as his mind wandered through all the possibilities.
He could taste the vodka on Yakov's lips all over again as he started to stroke his erect penis.
He knew he should stop, but he couldn’t. The warm water from the shower only added to the sensation, making him feel even more aroused.
He thought about what Yakov had said. “You belong to me now.” Those words echoed in his mind as he gripped his cock tighter. He imagined Yakov saying them again, this time right before he took control of Matthew’s body.
He shut his eyes tight, trying to make the image in his head real. He could almost feel Yakov’s touch, his rough hands running over his body, his mouth exploring every inch of him. He stroked himself faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Yakov's words were on repeat in his mind, "You belong to me now."
He imagined Yakov's voice growling in his ear, his hands gripping his hips, his cock pressing against his ass. He could almost feel the heat of Yakov's body against his, the wetness of his mouth as he...
Matthew's fantasy was interrupted by a sudden chill. The cold water had gone from soothing to jarring. He snapped out of his daze, turning off the shower and stepping out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way to the bedroom.
Oliver was still asleep, his back to Matthew, the sheet draped low on his hips. Matthew felt a pang of guilt as he watched his husband, wondering how he could possibly face him after what had happened.
He slipped into bed beside Oliver, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. But Oliver stirred and rolled over, facing Matthew. His eyes were still closed, but a sleepy smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"You're home," he murmured, reaching out to run a hand through Matthew's damp hair.
Matthew forced himself to smile, leaning in to kiss Oliver softly on the lips.
"Yeah, I am. Sorry I'm so late."
Oliver's eyes fluttered open, his brow furrowing with concern. "Everything okay? You seem... different."
Matthew swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Just a long day, that's all. I'm fine."
Oliver's hand trailed down Matthew's back, his fingers tracing circles on his skin. "You sure? You want to talk about it?"
Matthew tensed, his mind racing. He couldn't tell Oliver the truth, not yet. Not with so much at stake.
Not with Yakov's life, and possibly even their own, hanging in the balance. He couldn't let Oliver in on this, not yet. Not until he had more control over the situation.
"No, I'm good. Just tired," Matthew said, turning away from Oliver's touch. He couldn't bear to look into his eyes, to see the concern and love reflected back at him. It would only make him feel more guilty.
Oliver hesitated before pulling his hand back, his brow creased with worry. "Okay, if you say so.
But if you need to talk, I'm here, you know that, right?" Oliver said, his voice soft.
"I know. Thank you," Matthew replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to relax. But his mind was still racing, his body still tingling with the memory of Yakov's touch. He knew he needed to sleep, to clear his mind and regain some semblance of control over his thoughts and emotions.
But as much as he tried to push Yakov from his mind, he couldn't shake the image of him, couldn't forget the feel of his lips, the weight of his body.
He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, his body aching for release but his mind too tangled to give in.