The Professor's Green Card Marriage Page 5

  Except Peter wasn’t wooden. He was sly and funny, articulate, passionate. That man was in front of him. That man wasn’t a man to be pitied or handled with care. He was someone Valentyn wanted to find, and it was up to him to help make a safe space where Peter felt okay revealing himself.

  Valentyn sighed in surrender and spun the crossword around to Peter. “As you can see, I’m a disappointment. I was a little distracted, but I’m also not very good at these. Fourteen across is particularly bothering me. I know what misbegotten means, but what in the world is a fourteen-letter synonym for it that starts with S?”

  Peter didn’t move right away, but his gaze fell on the paper and lingered there for several seconds. Then, without looking up, he held out his hand for the pen.

  Valentyn passed it over and watched as Peter began writing. Frowning, Valentyn watched the word form. “Supposititious? What does that even mean?”

  Peter ran his thumb along the edge of the pen for several seconds. Valentyn was distracted, thinking of when that thumb had stroked his hand, when all of a sudden Peter spoke. “Fraudulent.”

  Valentyn lost his breath for a second. Peter had such a soft, pleasant voice. “Oh. Well, now I know a new word. I’m not entirely sure how that works as a clue for misbegotten, but then, these aren’t my forte. Also, while I think I’m a fair hand at English at this point, there are some words I simply don’t know.”

  Peter rubbed the pen for a moment, staring so hard at the paper Valentyn wouldn’t have been surprised to see a hole burned through it. His mouth worked for several tries before sound came out. “Bad puzzle.”

  Valentyn looked at the paper too, considering this for the first time. “Well, that certainly makes me feel better. Though are you sure you’re not simply saying that to soothe my ego?”

  The whisper of a smile and a quick glance at Valentyn’s face, meeting his gaze.

  Valentyn’s heart skipped a beat.

  Adjusting his grip on the pen, Peter hovered over the paper. He didn’t look up.

  Valentyn gestured at the paper. “Please, be my guest.”

  Peter dove in. He was fast. He never paused to look anything up, darting across the page and back again. He only stopped when the girl who’d been working with him came over and told him she was leaving.

  “You okay to lock up?” She asked this while giving Valentyn a highly suspicious look.

  Peter nodded, then shooed her away before returning to the puzzle.

  “Okay. I’ll go out through the back door and lock it after myself. Make sure you turn on the alarm when you leave.”

  Once she was gone, they sat in silence as Peter finished the puzzle. It didn’t take him ten minutes. Valentyn was tempted to ask if he’d already done the puzzle, but he had a feeling the answer was no, he hadn’t. He was just that good at them.

  Putting the pencil down after the last clue, Peter stared at the paper. Then he took a slow breath. Nothing happened at first, but Valentyn had a feeling something was about to, so he waited.

  “W-would you like more coffee?” Peter asked. The question had come out clearly, but the long pause before it made Valentyn sure it had come after great effort.

  Valentyn rubbed his chin. “I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if I have caffeine. What about an herbal tea?”

  Rising, Peter motioned for Valentyn to follow him. After sliding behind the counter, he produced a box of various teas in pouches. Valentyn selected one, and Peter put it in a single-serve teapot with hot water from the dispenser. He made a second one for himself out of a different tea, then put them both on a serving tray with a pair of cups.

  They went back to the table, where Peter arranged their beverages in front of them, setting the tray on a ledge behind him. Then he sat down and went through the lengthy process of attempting to speak. “Y-ou said… you wanted… to talk to me.”

  “I did.” Valentyn couldn’t help longing for social cues, little smiles and gestures that would make this easier. He had asked for this, though, and he’d been warned. He focused on his empty teacup, turning the handle this way and that. “It’s a lot for me. It happened so fast. I hadn’t….” He pursed his lips and sighed. “It’s no good. I feel even sillier saying this in person. I’m sorry.”

  Peter held up a hand. Valentyn waited through the pause. “Not silly.”

  Valentyn scoffed. “It’s incredibly silly. Maybe that’s what scares me the most. You swooped in and picked up a solution I was about to dismiss out of hand. I couldn’t believe Dennis had said that at all, let alone so loudly. He says I’m paranoid for no reason, and maybe so. The biggest problem I have is that some Americans have an anti-Russian bias and get prickly when they hear my accent.” He curled his lip. “Well, I don’t like them either.” He blushed and averted his gaze to his lap. “You see? I’m silly as anything.”

  The silence went on for a long time, and when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he looked up. His breath caught as he saw Peter staring right at him, smiling. It was a slightly awkward smile, but the intensity of his expression made something click in Valentyn’s mind. Peter very much wanted to talk to him right now, and he was doing his best.

  A shiver ran through Valentyn, and he had to swallow before he could speak. “When you look at me like that, I want to shove all my nervous thoughts out the window and run with you straight to the courthouse.”

  Though he averted his gaze to the teapots, Peter kept smiling, the gesture easing a little as he relaxed. He poured out each of the teapots, first Valentyn’s and then his own. “Do you… have someone else? To… marry.”

  Valentyn grimaced as he lifted his mug. “I do not. And I couldn’t marry a total stranger. I can’t really offer money, so I’d wonder why they said yes. I don’t open up to people easily, and I’d worry the whole time they would turn me in.” He blew across the surface of his tea. “I think the only reason I’m talking to you so much is you’ve taken me off guard. And now here we are, with me having put you in a situation where you can’t say much. I’m surprised at how much you’ve said, actually.”

  The pause was longer this time. “Good… day.”

  Valentyn set down the mug. “I thought seeing you would shake me loose, or make it more real in a way I can handle. But now I simply feel awkward. And since you can’t say much, I keep filling the silence. I don’t know. Maybe that’s good for me. I have a horrible feeling, though, that if you get to know too much about me, you’ll tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

  Peter smiled over the rim of his cup. This time the pause was shorter. “Same.”

  It was pleasant to sit with him, even though Valentyn couldn’t get rid of his nervousness. He took a sip of tea. It was good. Its heat eased him enough that he could stare down at the tabletop and speak some of the things on his mind.

  “I’ve always been aware how different I am from Americans. I don’t mean because I’m Ukrainian, though there are times I feel that difference too. But sometimes being accepted as a gay man is difficult. When I was here during my undergraduate years and dated a man for the first time, he tried to hold my hand in the street. I was so full of panic I almost hit him. You don’t do that in Ukraine. It’s not as bad as Russia, but in the east, where I grew up? It might as well be Russia sometimes, especially when it comes to that. Even when I lived in Kyiv, I never dated anyone. I went to the sauna, or the gay club. There used to be more clubs, but they’ve closed. When I was in the sauna, sometimes there would be tourists from other countries. Gay men who came to have a good time. I could feel the difference in us. One time there were Americans, and that was when I knew I wanted to go to the United States and live, no matter what it took. But when I came here, I brought Ukraine with me. I could hold hands with a man now, but I would still feel afraid. The fear never leaves you, I don’t think. I can make friends with it, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. If I do, it will sneak up on me and make me miserable in ways I didn’t know to anticipate. American men don’t understand that. Even ones from sm
all towns—it’s not the same. Only the older men understand.”

  He stopped when he felt a hand on his. When he looked up, he saw Peter looking tense, in what he now recognized was him working up to speak.

  Then Peter stopped, looked out the window, and let go of Valentyn’s hand to pull on the blinds so they were shut. He reached for Valentyn’s hand again, closing it inside his own.

  “SM… the same.” He clenched his jaw, angry. He worked up to speak again. “I… understand. Different, but….”

  He gave up, red-faced and frustrated.

  “It’s okay.” Valentyn turned his hand over so he could lace their fingers. “I know you understand. Not for the extreme homophobia, but for your selective mutism. Is that what you meant to say?”

  Peter sighed and gripped Valentyn’s hand tighter.

  Valentyn let him. He appreciated that Peter had realized he would feel self-conscious holding hands in front of an open window, that he’d stopped to take a moment to protect him. That was who Peter was, he realized. People likely saw him as shy and quiet, aloof, but he was more complex than that. He was winsome and thoughtful and protective. Highly intelligent.

  Valentyn shut his eyes and let more of his fears tumble out. “I don’t want to go back to Ukraine. I understand I’ll feel out of place wherever I am, that I’ll always struggle, but I’d rather struggle here. I’m ready to work hard, to do whatever I need to do in order to make myself safe. But the idea that I need someone else to help me do that is troubling. It has nothing to do with you. Except it also does. I don’t want to accept your offer. I would like to date you, but I don’t want that strange pressure looming over us. I feel as if I should say, ‘Either we become friends and approach this as a business, or I find some other way.’ But there is no other way. There isn’t time for anything else. And then I feel trapped, and nothing about that is good.”

  Peter gripped Valentyn’s hand. It was clear he had a lot to say, that he was intensely frustrated by not being able to say it.

  Valentyn put his other hand over their joined ones and stroked Peter’s skin. “It’s all right. Take your time. And I know you’ll say more once we part. I’m not going to turn away.” He smiled wryly. “I can’t. But I also don’t want to. I think that’s why I’m so panicked. Were circumstances different, I would want to date you anyway. I would still be patient.” He frowned. “Though maybe we should focus on friendship first. And if you still want to help me, we can—”

  He stopped talking as Peter stood, hauled him half out of his seat, and leaned over the table to kiss him hard on the mouth.

  IT was seriously awkward to kiss over a table, but Peter didn’t care. He was tired of not being able to say what he wanted, and when Valentyn started sealing him into the friend zone, he was done. He was absolutely not interested in only being Valentyn’s friend.

  The kiss had been an impulse, a way of communicating his feelings without having to use words, but no sooner did he make contact with Valentyn’s lips than a wave of regret hit him. That wasn’t how he should have kissed this man for the first time. He should have made sure he wanted it too, and he should stop and let him—

  Valentyn grabbed his face and opened his mouth over Peter’s, cutting off thought, deepening the kiss.

  Shutting off his head, Peter focused on the feeling of Valentyn’s mouth against his. His lips were so soft, so full. He had stubble on his jaw, and it brushed deliciously against Peter’s own. He wanted to sink into the kiss, to let it wash everything away, but the table was a serious liability.

  Peter broke the kiss long enough to shove the object between them away. After pushing Valentyn into his chair, Peter straddled his lap and dove back in.

  He felt a rush when Valentyn’s erection bumped against his. It had been so long since he’d made out with anyone. Valentyn slid his hands up Peter’s back, fingers flirting tentatively with the hem of his shirt. Peter wanted more. When Valentyn didn’t give it to him, Peter grabbed the bottom of the shirt, tugged it over his head, and tossed it to the floor. Then he slid his fingers into the collar of Valentyn’s shirt and kissed his jaw.

  “Ti nejmovìrnij.” Valentyn gripped Peter’s naked back and nipped at his naked shoulder. “Ti takij garnij.”

  Peter had no idea what he was saying. It sounded hot, though, and he smiled as he arched his neck to give Valentyn a better angle.

  “The window.” Valentyn didn’t lift his head, only whispered into Peter’s neck as he sucked gently. His voice was gruff, his accent thick. “Can anyone see?”

  They couldn’t. They were right next to the blinds, tightly shut, and beside them was a section of wall before the next window. If they stayed where they were, they’d be fine. All the same, Peter didn’t want to make Valentyn uncomfortable.

  Valentyn wasn’t stopping, though. He had the tips of his fingers inside Peter’s jeans now, teasing the flesh hidden beneath. He latched on to Peter’s neck, sucking hard enough there was no chance he wouldn’t leave a mark.

  Groaning, Peter ground their hips tighter together and drew his lover closer.

  Valentyn was unleashed. It was as if his worry about the window was his last thread of caution, and now he wasn’t holding back. Peter felt much the same way. For a moment he marveled at his own brazen behavior, and then he simply descended into lust. When Valentyn lifted him higher to slide his mouth over Peter’s chest, Peter planted his feet on the floor and helped him, only to tremble and feel his knees turn to jelly when Valentyn deftly undid his jeans and slipped both hands down to cup his ass and knead insistently.

  Neither of them spoke now. There was no need. Occasionally Valentyn murmured something in Ukrainian, lost in his own world as he licked and sucked at Peter’s flesh. When Valentyn tugged Peter’s briefs down and palmed him, Peter braced himself against Valentyn’s shoulders and gasped.

  By the time Valentyn settled Peter on his lap to kiss him again, they both trembled. Peter fought against the buttons of Valentyn’s shirt, groaning into his mouth as his fingers found a curling nest of hair. He needed help undoing Valentyn’s trousers, though. When Valentyn freed himself, Peter glanced down.

  He gripped Valentyn’s shoulders tight and let his mouth hang open. Jesus, Valentyn was huge.

  Hypnotized, he slipped out of Valentyn’s grip and onto his knees so the monster bobbed right in front of his face. Thick, so thick, but long and bent slightly to the left. Uncut too.

  God, Peter wanted it.

  He took it.

  So hot, soft-hard and bitter-salty in his mouth, choking him as he took it into his throat, the cock filled his whole mouth. He couldn’t take much more than half of it in, even relaxing his throat and letting it cut off his air. He let his saliva drip down, then used it as lubricant as he jacked the lower half of Valentyn’s dick with his hands.

  Valentyn murmured something else in his language and gripped Peter’s hair. Peter opened his throat and let Valentyn drive inside, moving one hand down to gently massage his balls. Spit kept leaking out of the sides of his mouth as he tried to take the fat organ inside his throat, and several times he choked around it.

  Jesus God, yes. Yes. More.

  When Valentyn hauled him off, Peter made a noise of complaint, then purred as Valentyn pulled the table back and laid Peter over the top of it. Peter got one dizzy look at Valentyn’s face, darkened with lust, before that mouth was back on him, sucking on his stomach, pulling his legs wide and arranging them over his shoulders. When Valentyn closed his lips over Peter, he also slipped two fingers into Peter’s mouth.

  Whimpering, Peter turned his head to the side and sucked the digits hard, getting them good and wet.

  Valentyn’s other hand had found one of Peter’s nipples, tugging and twisting it as he moved the wet fingers to Peter’s hole. At first it was a delicious burn, but soon it became dry and less comfortable. He only had to wiggle once, though, before Valentyn withdrew.

  He stood, pressing a kiss against Peter’s abdomen before reaching down to
rummage through his bag. He returned, bless him, with a small bottle of lube. After squirting a liberal amount into his hand, he pushed two fingers into Peter and closed his mouth over the nipple he’d been torturing.

  The fingers were thick and insistent inside Peter. He wondered if this meant Valentyn wanted to fuck him. God, he hoped so. He’d had so much fear about how this evening would go, and the idea that now he was getting fucked over a table in the coffee shop was the best one-eighty from what he’d expected that he didn’t know how to function.

  Valentyn worked the muscle loose until he could add a third finger. Peter groaned. It was a lot, but it felt so good, especially when Valentyn sucked Peter like it was his last chance of salvation at the same time.

  When Peter’s ass decided it found three rapidly thrusting fingers acceptable and Peter was a gasping mess clinging to Valentyn’s head, Valentyn nipped the inside of Peter’s thigh. “I want to fuck you. I’m on PrEP. Yes?”

  Peter nodded enthusiastically.

  He floated as Valentyn picked him up and settled him back on his lap. His ass throbbed, and he was only looking down at the fat monster, Valentyn lubing it liberally. When Valentyn kissed him, it was a carnal clash of tongues and teeth. Peter’s bottom lip would swell. It might be swollen already.

  Then all his focus became taking Valentyn’s cock into his ass. Valentyn kissed his chest as he guided it in, Peter pushing himself up to keep it from going too far. God, it was so big. He grunted as the tip breached him—the fingers weren’t enough to prepare him. But Valentyn’s hands on his ass kneaded him, helped him open farther. Soon he was moving a little bit against the top inch.

  “So sexy,” Valentyn murmured against his stomach.

  Peter shut his eyes and tried to take a little more. “Fat.”

  “Yes. Thick and fat for you. Do you like it?”

  Peter nodded and bent his knees to take a little more.

  Valentyn kept kneading his ass. “I like your face as I fuck you. And the marks on your body.” Peter hissed as he worked against muscles that weren’t as sure about this as he was. Valentyn stroked his hips. “Too much for you?”