Antonio’s hand moved down Sebastian’s back.
Vlad took a step toward them and then forced himself to stop. Sebastian didn’t belong to him. He had no claim. He didn’t want any claim.
Still chatting with Antonio, Sebastian shot him a look Vlad couldn’t quite read.
Antonio’s hand moved lower. The Italian leaned into Sebastian, smiling. His lips touched Sebastian’s. He was kissing Sebastian, kissing Sebastian’s sweet, perfect mouth, groping him, pulling him close—
Vlad’s control snapped.
He hauled the fucker off Sebastian and tossed him away. Antonio collided with a chair and fell on the floor, cursing in Italian and glowering at Vlad. “What the fuck?” he growled, getting to his feet with a grunt. “What’s wrong with your pet Russian, Sebastian?”
“Get out,” Vlad told the Italian.
Antonio scoffed and took a step toward him. “You think you can just—”
“I think you’d better go, Tony,” Sebastian said, looking at Vlad oddly.
“Are you serious?” Antonio snapped.
“Yes,” Sebastian said. “I’m sorry, I’ll explain later.”
“You’d better!” Antonio huffed, grabbed his coat, and stormed out.
“Well, what was that?” Sebastian said after the door slammed shut.
His lips were red and shiny from Antonio’s mouth.
Vlad yanked him close and smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. Every cell in his body seemed to be straining to get closer to Sebastian, press against him, sink inside him, melt and fuse together until Sebastian was branded with Vlad’s name from the inside.
When he finally let Sebastian breathe, Sebastian stared at him dazedly, two red spots on his pale cheeks.
“You will tell the Italian he can’t touch you anymore,” Vlad said.
Sebastian’s eyes cleared a little. “I will? And why would I do that?”
Vlad opened his mouth and closed it. He said gruffly, “Because he tastes disgusting and your mouth stinks of him.”
Sebastian smiled. “So, theoretically, if I find someone who doesn’t taste disgusting, you’ll be fine with it?”
Vlad glowered. “You’re such a little shit,” he said and gave Sebastian another bruising kiss.
Sebastian was grinning. “I’m six feet tall. Hardly little.”
“You’re still a little shit,” Vlad said and kissed him again, softer this time. God, he couldn’t get enough.
When they broke the kiss, Sebastian looked at him seriously. “We are not exclusive, Vlad. Casual fuck-buddies, remember?”
Vlad’s fingers dug into Sebastian’s sides. “Sure.”
“Then what was that?” Sebastian said. Despite his words, he didn’t look angry. His expression was soft, his lips folded into a pout.
Vlad wanted to kiss him.
“I’m an uneducated possessive caveman, remember?” he said, forcing lightness into his voice. “That’s why we met, after all.”
Sebastian worried his lip, a mix of conflicting emotions appearing on his face. “That’s different. Nina was your girlfriend of two years. I’m not. I’m just a guy you’ve been fucking for a month.”
Vlad didn’t know what to say to that. Sebastian was right. He had no right to feel like Sebastian’s skin and mouth were only his to kiss. They weren’t, and he’d better remember that. He was the one who had told Sebastian this was just a casual arrangement.
“Look,” Sebastian said. “I know I shouldn’t have pushed you into this threesome thing. I knew you were nowhere ready. But you can’t do this, either—can’t act like a jealous boyfriend. It really fucks with my head. Don’t do that, okay? Don’t complicate it.”
Vlad nodded stiffly.
“Good. Now let’s go to bed,” Sebastian said with a soft smile, grabbing Vlad’s hand and pulling him toward the bedroom. Vlad let him, noting that despite his admonishing words, the little shit looked very pleased by Vlad’s jealous outburst.
Instead of making him feel better about the whole thing, it made Vlad feel like the scum of the earth. He was fucking it up for both of them. Casual fuck-buddies didn’t feel possessiveness. Casual fuck-buddies didn’t attack another man for touching their fuck-buddy. Sebastian should have kicked him out immediately instead of being secretly pleased, or Vlad should have put an end to this himself. Sebastian deserved better. Vlad liked him. He genuinely liked him as a person. He didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to be another Mike Fletcher.
But you are, a voice taunted in the back of his mind. You’re exactly like him. You still can’t admit you’re a faggot, still think you’re better than that.
Sebastian pushed him on the bed and straddled Vlad’s thighs. “What do you want tonight?” he said, slipping his hands under Vlad’s t-shirt with an impish smile.
He was beautiful. A man shouldn’t be so damn beautiful.
“You,” Vlad said hoarsely, pulling him down to his mouth.
The voice in his head grew weaker as he kissed Sebastian, losing himself in his addictive taste and scent, trying and failing to get enough.
But Vlad knew the voice would return.
It always did.
Chapter 23
Vlad returned to Luke’s flat at the wee hours of the morning.
He tensed upon realizing the security system was turned off—turned off by someone who wasn’t him.
Vlad pulled his gun out of his holster, trying to see the details in the dark living room. The penthouse was quiet. Hopefully Luke was sound asleep in his bedroom, which could be opened only from the inside if someone unauthorized managed to turn the security system off, which seemed to be the case. Inwardly, he berated himself for leaving Luke alone. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t required to bodyguard Luke 24/7—he had four hours off every day, and Luke did have security stationed by his private lift, but there were still ways to get inside the flat if one was dedicated enough. Although Roman had told him a few days ago that Charves was unlikely to target Luke at this point, Roman had many enemies. One of them might have found out about Roman’s boy.