A Russian Bear (27 page)

“It won’t do any good.” Tom knew he was stalling, but he couldn’t do this. He had already said too much and he had never imagined this conversation taking place in a car and he didn’t want everything to be over yet.

“Let me decide that. Tell me. Now.”

Tom felt angry and sad, and in the end, he just gave up. “I’m not who I thought I was. I thought I was happy and good for you, and I’m not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it so hard on you. You don’t deserve that.”

“That’s pretty stupid, don’t you think?”

Tom turned toward Mischa, astounded. Then he got angry. “Well, I’m sorry you think that. I won’t bother you with my stupid explanations anymore.”

“They’re not stupid. But it is stupid to think that you can be the victim of a very violent attack and be all happy go lucky afterward. You can’t, and I don’t expect you to.”

“Well, it wasn’t what you signed up for.” Tom couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“It was exactly what I signed up for. Do you remember our talk after Toby’s first visit? This isn’t just about wild sessions in the playroom.”

“Well, good, because you don’t get any of those anymore, either.”

“I don’t, at the moment, and that’s okay. What’s not okay is you not talking to me.”

“’At the moment.’ What if it’s not just ‘at the moment’? What if this...” Tom gestured helplessly, “if it’s going to last? What if I can’t be like before? What if the person I thought I had become, the happy person who had the guts to be with you, what if that was only a phase and this is the person I really am? I wasn’t exactly overly happy and confident before I met you; what if I can’t be what you deserve?” Tom started crying, and that just made him even more despondent.

Mischa had just turned onto the small road through the woods, and now he pulled over and killed the engine. He reached out for Tom, and Tom drew back, crying harder and leaning on the door. Mischa cursed, and then he pulled at Tom, hard, until Tom was in his arms.

It only made everything worse to feel Mischa’ s arms around him, and Tom cried so hard he couldn’t breathe. This was what he was losing. Mischa rubbed his back and mumbled soothing words to him, and slowly, Tom managed to stop crying. He was exhausted, though, and just stayed where he was.

“Better now?” Mischa gently rubbed his back.

“No.” Tom wasn’t, even though he did feel strangely relieved. But he had said way too much.

“Why not?”

Tom felt empty, worn out. “I can’t stay with you like this. It isn’t what you want, what you need.”

“Huh.” Mischa hugged him. “You may be very smart, boy, but you’re rubbish at reading minds.”

Tom kept hiding. He didn’t have any strength left to be sarcastic. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I can’t pretend to be all right any longer.”

Mischa gave an exasperated sigh. “Finally.”

With an effort, Tom managed to lift his head to look into Mischa’s eyes, questioningly. There was an overbearing look on the man’s face.

“Do you remember what Toby teased me about when he visited us? That I’m into power play?” Tom nodded. He had no idea where this was going.

“Well, then. If I’m into helping you, guiding you and pushing you in a session in the playroom, wouldn’t you think that I’d be into helping you, guiding you and pushing you outside of the playroom, too?”

Tom frowned. “It’s not the same.” Even he could hear that it was a lame objection.

“It is, and you know it.” Mischa gently took Tom’s head between his hands. “You’ve been trying to spare me from knowing how bad you’re feeling. It’s very noble, and I appreciate the thought behind it. However, I really don’t appreciate what it’s doing to us, so stop it. Now.”

Tom blinked. This was going very fast. “I... But...”

“Stop it. It means you’re going to be vulnerable and that you have to trust me to be able to handle that. I am able to handle that.”

“I do trust you.” It was dawning on Tom that Mischa might be right. Fuck.

Mischa raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything, just waited.

“Fuck, I feel stupid now.” Tom did, and it wasn’t a nice feeling.

Mischa hugged him tightly. “Don’t. Neither of us have been here before.” He pulled back so he could watch Tom. “Just remember that it’s okay not to be strong, and it’s okay if I worry about you. It won’t kill me.” Tom snorted. “No, I’m serious. Trust me. Let me worry, and let me help you get better.”

“You mean harass my ass until you’re satisfied.” Tom tried to keep his voice light.

Mischa chuckled and helped Tom back in his seat, turning on the engine again. “Exactly. Now, let’s get home. You need some real food and a soak in the tub.”

Tom sat back, but kept his hand on Mischa. He felt more confused than he had been for ages. But at least he was feeling something other than despair.

***

Tom woke up the next morning and felt rested, his head clearer than it had been for a while. Then he tried to move.

“Fuuuck!” Damn, he was sore.

“Language, boy.” Mischa came in from the hallway.

“That’s easy for you to say!” Tom flailed, trying to get his stomach muscles to work enough to let him sit up. Mischa put an arm behind his back and hoisted him up. “I don’t think I have a single muscle that doesn’t hurt.”

Mischa raised his eyebrows. What was it with that? That was supposed to be Tom’s thing. “Wiggle your toes.”

Tom did. “Ow.”

Mischa laughed. “Okay, you’re probably right.”

Tom tried to glare, but he couldn’t help but laugh, too. It turned into a moan, though, when he tried to walk. “How can I be this beat up? It was only an hour, for God’s sake!”

“Martial arts are good for you because you use all of your body.” Tom glared at him. Mischa had the decency to look sheepish. “But I guess you know that by now.”

“I do, and I blame you.” Tom managed to get out into the hallway and made for the bathroom.

“As long as you blame your sleeping through the night on me, too.”

Tom mumbled something grumpily and shut the door in Mischa’s face. He could hear his lover laugh on the other side. Damn optimist.

***

After lunch, Tom could hardly get out of his chair. Mischa looked at him and seemed to make a decision.

“There’s only one thing that’ll help you with that.”

“A long soak in the tub?” Tom asked hopefully.

“Nope. Using your muscles. We’re going for a walk.”

“A walk?” Tom guessed it shouldn’t be a surprising suggestion; they did live in the middle of the woods, and the nature was beautiful around here. They had just never been out in it before.

Mischa laughed at him. “Yes, you know -- one step after another?” Tom snorted. Someone was being way too happy today.

Tom did manage to find a pair of boots, but Mischa had to tie them for him -- it was such a long way down there.

When they came out of the house, Tom discovered the pleasure of the effect of an uneven trail on overworked muscles. He stumbled and groaned when his legs twinged even more than before. Mischa caught him with an arm around his waist.

“I can’t say this often enough -- I blame you for this.” Tom put his arm around Mischa, too, though. Mischa didn’t say anything, just chuckled and kept his arm where it was.

It was a cool day, and Tom felt the breeze on his face. He wasn’t as sensitive to visual input anymore, so he could actually enjoy the scenery. It was quiet, the trees had started to come into leaf, and it was peaceful. For the first time in ages, Tom felt... right.

They stayed quiet while they walked, and Tom leaned tentatively into Mischa. Mischa didn’t say anything, just rubbed his shoulder a bit.

When they came back to the house, Tom spontaneously leaned in and kissed Mischa’s cheek. Mischa looked surprised. Then a happy smile spread on his face. Tom looked away, suddenly shy.

“Come on, let’s get you inside. I think you can use a nap now.” Tom started to protest, but Mischa just shooed him into the living room and had him sit down on the couch. He was fast asleep before Mischa could bring him his tea.

Chapter 13

Tom should have known that Mischa would be relentless in this, too. His lover had set up an alarm clock in the morning, and Tom had to get up, whether he had been sleeping or not. He did sleep better now, though, so it wasn’t so bad.

Mischa had turned into a pure Nazi when it came to meals, though. He had started his new self-appointed role as Tom’s dietician two days after Tom’s first karate lesson, and his regimen was merciless.

Tom found out when he got his morning snack. Which was now a permanent part of his diet, apparently.

“You’ll eat five times a day.” Mischa had brought Tom half a sandwich and a glass of milk and put it on the table in front of him, pushing his books away. “Breakfast, morning snack, lunch, afternoon snack and dinner. Coffee doesn’t count as a meal.”

“But I’m not hungry!” Tom had just had cereal and an egg for breakfast; that was more than he had had for months. And he was in the middle of analyzing a very interesting painting.

“I don’t care. At all. Eat.”

Mischa had stared at Tom until he gave in and ate everything on his plate. It tasted good, and Tom finished his food a lot faster than he had thought he would. Mischa kept an eye on him, and when Tom had finished his milk, the man nodded, once again looking way too pleased with himself. It was disconcerting and a little bit funny all at once.

In the weeks that followed, Tom felt like he was in a state of constant bewilderment, trying to keep up with the sudden demands. It was exhausting, but ever so slowly, he started getting back to the surface.

His work was improving, too. Maybe it was his head clearing up, but the theory chapter, which had been overwhelming him since he had started working on his thesis again, suddenly didn’t seem that frightening. With their walks and his naps and his training, Tom actually worked less on it, but with better results.

His sensei was more demanding, too. Phil never yelled at Tom, but the man seemed to have a very clear feeling of how much Tom could do and learn. That was often a lot more than Tom thought he could do, but Phil was right. Tom went to the dojo three times a week, and he made progress. He probably never would be a macho black belt, but that was okay; he just liked using his body and getting tired for the right reasons.

He hadn’t really talked with Mischa since their drive home from his first training in the dojo. Tom wasn’t as worried anymore, though, and he had started waking up, arms around Mischa instead of being hunched up in the far corner of the bed. It was a good feeling, even though they still had a way to go.

***

When Mischa came to pick up Tom that day, he only saw the back of him, going into the stretching room. Mischa looked questioningly at Phil.

The sensei was sweating and looked like he had had a thorough workout. “I pushed him today. A lot, and he refused to give up. He’s impressively stubborn.”

Mischa snorted. Nothing new there.

“He needs you now. Take your time with the stretching; I won’t disturb you.” Mischa nodded and hurried into the smaller room, closing the door after him.

Tom had already collapsed on the floor. He looked up, trying to smile. “I’m really tired.” Then his face contorted, and he started crying. “I’m just so tired.” He tried to wipe away his tears, but his arms were shaking too much with fatigue.

Mischa stroked Tom’s hair once, and then he began the stretching. He didn’t talk or try to comfort Tom, just went through the exercises as usual, letting Tom cry. When Mischa had finished the leg-stretches, he got his lover a blanket to keep Tom warm and continued with the arm-stretches, sitting behind Tom and almost hugging the thin body while he stretched his boy’s shoulders. Tom never stopped crying, too exhausted to hold back. Mischa stroked Tom’s hair again and made him drink some juice before Mischa went through the rest of the exercises. Then he just held Tom and let his boy cry.

After a long while, Tom had cried himself out, and Mischa held on to him, hugging the tired body resting against Mischa. Finally, Tom stirred.

“I’m thirsty.” Mischa felt a jolt of happiness go through him; it was the first time in months that Tom had asked him for anything. He didn’t show it, though, just reached out for another bottle of juice and held Tom’s head so his boy could drink. Tom greedily downed more than half of it.

“Good boy. Now, let’s get you into the shower.” Mischa got up.

“I don’t think I can.” Tom didn’t sound apologetic or embarrassed -- just tired.

“I’ll help you.” Mischa bent down and helped him up. Tom could stand, even though his legs weren’t quite steady. Mischa put an arm around him and walked him into the locker room. There, Tom sat on a bench, hunched over with fatigue, while Mischa got the water running before he undressed. Then Mischa helped him up, got his sweat-soaked clothes off, and pulled him under the spray.

Tom closed his eyes and just stood there while Mischa gently washed him, soaping his body and letting the water sluice the suds away. Tom sighed and leaned into him. Mischa held him and let the hot water pour down over them.

“I’m going to fall asleep if we don’t move.” Tom didn’t make any effort to get free, though.

“Let’s get you home.” Mischa turned off the water and dried Tom. He just stood there, letting Mischa help him into his clothes. Mischa got dressed, got their things, and reached out for Tom to walk them out of there. Tom sighed and leaned on Mischa, closer than he needed to if he just wanted to be supported. Mischa held him tightly. They were going to be okay.

***

“No. Stop!” Tom was lying in their bed, writhing under Mischa. Mischa had his hand around Tom’s half-hard dick, stroking it.

Tom had been subdued after his exhausting session with Phil. It had become easier to touch him, though. He still didn’t like being surprised, but he came to Mischa to be held, and he snuggled in at night. Mischa reveled in it, keeping him as close as possible on their walks and when they watched TV in the evenings. Tom was quiet, but he didn’t fight the close contact anymore.

Mischa had been a little nervous when Tom went back to the dojo the following Monday, but to Mischa’s relief, Phil didn’t make a habit of the hard core sessions. Tom conscientiously went to his karate lessons and did his research the rest of the time.

During the last week or so, Tom had started getting restless, though. Mischa wasn’t even sure if Tom felt it himself. Mischa saw it, though. Tom lost concentration while reading, he kicked at pebbles and branches when they took walks, and he even swore violently when his knife slipped while he was chopping vegetables.

Mischa had watched it patiently, but now it was time to push a bit more. That was why he had started making love to Tom this evening. Their love life hadn’t improved, or rather, Mischa hadn’t initiated anything for a long time, wanting to give Tom time to recover and trust him again. It had taken Tom by surprise, then, when Mischa had pushed him down and started stroking Tom’s cock.

Tom had tried to reciprocate, but Mischa didn’t let him, pushing Tom’s hands away and beginning to stroke him again. Tom didn’t get hard very quickly, and the boy couldn’t lie still.

“Take it. I want you to come for me, boy.” Mischa made his voice deep and commanding, making it impossible for Tom to ignore that this was a scene. He could hear on Tom’s quick intake of breath that the boy got it.

Tom’s hands were scrambling over the sheets, trying to find something to hold on to. Mischa let go of Tom’s cock and grabbed the boy’s hands, forcing him to grip the headboard. “Hold on, boy.” He reached back down to Tom’s cock.

Tom frowned and gasped, writhing with discomfort. Mischa pretended not to see. Tom’s legs restlessly pushed against the bed, as if he was unconsciously trying to get away from this. Finally, he lost his composure.

“No. Stop!” Tom’s hands came down, pushing at Mischa. Mischa kept up his merciless strokes until Tom hit him.

“No! I said... Fuck. Stop it!” Tom pushed and punched him in the chest and swore and yelled at him. Mischa leaned heavily on Tom, finally catching his hands and forcing them to the pillow.

“Let me go! Fucker, let me go, let me... Arrgh!” Tom was shouting and bucking under him. Mischa managed to turn him to his stomach and push him down into the mattress. Tom was spitting with rage, his screams completely unintelligible while he struggled. Mischa leaned heavily on him, letting him feel Mischa’s body and holding him still.

It took forever before Tom cooled down, but in the end he was accepting Mischa’s hold on him, breathing heavily from his fight but not trying to get free. Mischa finally trusted him to be calm, reaching out and turning off the light. Then Mischa rolled Tom to his side and spooned up behind him, kissing him gently on his neck.

“Good night, boy.” He could almost feel the disbelief in Tom’s body about the scene ending like that, but Mischa had gotten what he wanted. Tom had used a lot of energy fighting Mischa, though, and his boy fell asleep almost immediately.

***

That session seemed to have triggered something in Tom. Now he was very, very angry. When Mischa came to pick him up at the dojo after his next lesson, Tom was at the punching bag, kicking and hitting it. Phil came over to Mischa, a funny look on the sensei’s face.

“He went straight over there when he came and has been there ever since. I guess that means I have good news and bad news for you.”

“Yes?” Mischa wasn’t sure what to think about that.

“Well, the good news is that he’s in really good shape by now. It takes a lot of energy to do that for an entire hour.” Phil looked appreciatively at Tom who hadn’t even noticed them yet.

“And the bad news?”

Phil looked a bit sheepish. “I think you might say he’s got an anger issue.”

Mischa snorted. “You think so?” They looked over at Tom, who staggered after a particularly violent kick. They reacted simultaneously, but Mischa was quickest, catching Tom before he fell.

“I think that’s enough for today, boy.” Mischa had a feeling that Tom would have protested if he had had enough breath left to do so. He hadn’t, though, so Mischa nodded to Phil and took Tom into the next room. Tom sat down with a thump, trying to catch his breath.

“Good work-out?”

Tom looked incredulously at him. Mischa held his eyes until he nodded abruptly. “Yes. Fine.”

Mischa nodded and started in on the stretches. Even now, Tom was fighting Mischa, gasping when he felt the stretch and writhing to get out of it. Mischa didn’t let him and just pushed him through their routine. It did seem to calm him down, but Mischa was quite sure that wasn’t the last they would see of Tom’s temper.

***

Mischa was on the phone with Toby. His friend had called to get some advice on an investment, and Mischa had told him the same thing he almost always told people who had gotten a supposedly good tip: Don’t go there. They were talking about the club when Mischa heard a huge crash from the kitchen.

“What the fuck was that? Mischa?” Toby was actually shouting.

Mischa ran to the doorway. Then he stopped, astounded.

“Mischa?” Toby’s voice on the other end of the line was worried.

“I have to call you back. Bye.” Mischa put down the phone and looked at the mess. There was glass and porcelain all over the counter and the floor. When he looked at the wall, he could see where it came from: An entire cupboard was broken, the shelves hanging limply from the sides. While he watched, one of them fell with another crash on top of everything else. He turned to look at Tom.

Tom was hissing with rage, holding what appeared to be a broken off handle in his hand. While Mischa watched, he flung it on the heap of kitchenware and reached out to rip another shelf down.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Mischa was growling when he stepped in close and grabbed Tom. His boy yelled and fought all the way to the playroom, and Mischa couldn’t have cared less. He slammed Tom down on the table and had the strap holding the boy’s hips down secure before Tom saw where they were. Tom struggled while Mischa tied down his boy’s hands.

“No! Mischa, no.” Tom desperately tried to get up, a note of panic in his voice now. “Mischa! I’m scared.” Mischa held Tom’s head, forcing the boy to focus on him.

“I know. And that’s okay. But you need this.” Mischa gently put down Tom’s head and closed the cuffs around Tom’s ankles. Then he fastened the chains to the cuffs and raised Tom’s legs in the air. That made Tom go into a rage again, shouting and struggling. The straps held him down, though, and Mischa just held Tom’s head again until the boy was calmer. Then he folded down the bottom half of the table so Tom’s ass was at the edge of it.

Mischa grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting off Tom’s clothes. That made Tom roar and tug at the bindings. The cuffs didn’t give, though, and Mischa just kept on cutting until he had a naked boy in front of him. He stepped back and watched Tom.

Tom was still fighting, and Mischa caught his boy’s eyes. “Fuck! Mischa!” Mischa smiled and let his hand rub over the very visible bulge in his pants.

“Exactly, boy.” Mischa opened his pants and took out his hard dick. Tom’s eyes widened. His boy wasn’t hard.

“Mischa, I can’t... I can’t...”
Tom closed his eyes and turned away his head. Mischa leaned in, grabbing his hair and holding his head still while Mischa rubbed against his stomach. Tom gasped.

“What can’t you do, boy?”

Tom swallowed. “I can’t... I can’t get hard, sir. I can’t come.” There was shame in his voice.

Mischa doubted that, but he wasn’t going to say so. “It doesn’t matter, boy. I’m going to take you anyway. You do it because I make you do it, remember that?” He tightened his grip. Tom gasped again, dick twitching against Mischa’s belly.

“Yes, sir. I remember.”

Mischa kissed his boy’s neck, letting his tongue slide over the sensitive spot just under Tom’s ear. He smiled inwardly when he heard Tom’s breath hitch. He didn’t think getting hard was going to be any problem for Tom.

“You remember the first time you got fucked? Remember the burn? It’s going to be the same today; it’s such a long time since I’ve fucked you. You’re going to be so tight around my cock.” Mischa moaned at the thought. Tom whimpered.