You’re as close to a fucking home as I get.
Aleksandr VoinovStichwörter: dan-mcfadyen-to-vadim-krasnorada special-forces-soldiers tough-men-admit-mm-love
Ask me again when you're inside me, and I might even whisper the truth.
Aleksandr VoinovYou’re with me,” Dan murmured against Vadim’s lips. “In my thoughts, my heart, my mind, no matter what I am doing. I goddamned need you, and I want you—always.
Aleksandr VoinovFor me, he can walk on water, dance in the clouds. I know he can’t, really, but what he can and can’t do pales into nothing when I look at him.
Aleksandr VoinovI want to learn his body, find every pleasure it’s hiding. All this reverence and simple awe I feel when I touch him, feel his breath brush my skin.
Aleksandr VoinovHis hand drifted up Jared’s spine and into his hair. For a moment, he just stroked Jared’s scalp, the movements slow, almost tender.
“Always hot watching a man get fucked.” And then he grabbed Jared’s hair and jerked his head back. “But even hotter watching him beg for it, isn’t it?
You’re seriously in love, you know that? It’s a great feeling, unless it hurts like a bitch.
Aleksandr Voinov… I agree with two things: the steppe is wide—even though I’ve never been there, and the mountains, fuck, yes, the mountains are a thing for themselves. They eat you up, swallow you whole, digest and churn around until their loneliness spits you back out again and you think that nothing else matters. Just them, and that tiny handful of life that’s your own. Fucking insignificant. Nothing, no one, barely remembered, except perhaps for a moment of recognition in a goddamned teahouse.” He shut up, suddenly, had said too much.
Vadim flashed a smile. “You’re my favourite enemy, too. Fucking messy Brit.
I'm a... seven-figure base salary, two digit million bonus a year asset manager..." Ghislain smiled, tiredly. "And you call me a 'pet?'"
Emil laughed softly and tucked a lock of hair behind Ghislain's ear, as if he would a child, or a pet. "My dear, I am a son of the Dalca family and I just beat you until you were red, then fucked you. Is there another term you prefer?
Described as a "workaholic speed-writing freak" by fellow writers, a "creative writing class drill sergeant" by his writing 'padawans', Voinov is a self-confessed geek and has enlarged his days by 12 secret hours in return for the sacrifice of ten albino virgin pygmy hippos.
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