Avgust Sokolov never considered himself sentimental. Rational, yes, always. But tonight, as he waited for Assad to arrive, he felt things he'd long buried, lessons taught with fists and cold stares by men who preached that emotions only make you weak, only get you killed. Yet this feeling—that unmistakable pull toward Assad—ate at him, leaving a dull ache in his chest that felt too human for comfort. The night at the strip club had tasted like salvation; Assad was a kind of redemption, a way out from under all the blood and sin Avgust had worn like second skin. In Assad's hands, maybe, was the way out of his own personal hell.
It was risky as hell to send all his men home tonight. Anyone could stroll in with a machete, a vendetta, and a death wish, and he'd be an open target. But he wanted Assad to feel at ease. But how do you make a gangster comfortable? Avgust knew the answer better than anyone—assume nothing's safe. Keep your back to the wall. In this life, your body was worth its weight in gold, and power made you everyone's target.
As Avgust poured himself a half-glass of rotgut whiskey, the bitter, biting kind he reserved for bad decisions, he wondered: was Assad one of those bad decisions? His father had always drummed it into his and his brother's heads—trust in God, not man. But what good was trust in a God who stopped listening years ago?
The door creaked, and Avgust looked up as Assad entered, gaze roaming the room, taking it in before dropping onto the Russian leather loveseat across from Avgust. The only thing between them was a glass table, yet it might as well have been an ocean.
"Didn't think you'd come," Avgust said, smirking over his glass.
Assad's gaze settled on Avgust, his eyes lingering just a little too long, stirring curiosity Avgust didn't mind giving him a taste of. The way Assad's stare roamed over him was something like fireworks in July.
"You invited me. I came," Assad replied, voice low and slow.
Heat crept through Avgust's chest, his thoughts straying to how easy it would be to drag Assad across this loveseat, lay him out like a prize and ruin him.
"So, we talkin' business?" Assad asked.
Avgust took another long sip of whiskey before replying, "Something better. Us."
Assad cocked an eyebrow. "What about us?"
The question hung in the air, thick with Assad's hesitation. Avgust saw it—the unease under his guarded look, the question on the tip of his tongue about the danger of stepping over this line with the Russian. He took another gulp of whiskey, feeling it burn down to soothe him.
"You being mine," Avgust said, voice rough with the weight of it.
Assad let out a low, rumbling laugh, one that died out when he saw Avgust wasn't kidding. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. "I ain't tryna be some white man's bitch."
Avgust leaned forward, voice a low promise. "You'll be whatever I tell you to be. And right now, I'm telling you to be mine."
Power had never been a question for Avgust. No, wasn't a word he entertained. He saw Assad considering it, and they both knew he didn't really have a choice.
Assad relaxed back on the loveseat, legs spread wide in defiance. "Fine. I'm yours. So, what the fuck, I get out of it, tho?"
Avgust put his whiskey down and crossed the room, stopping before Assad, who looked up with a hint of triumph, knowing he'd now had some kind of power over Avgust.
"Protection. Money. Anything you want." Avgust dropped to his knees, hands pressing to Assad's thighs. "I'd give you the world if you wanted it."
Avgust meant it. He'd give Assad the whole damn world and then burn it to ashes if that's what Assad asked, happy to add a little more blood to his hands if it meant having him.
Avgust could see it—Assad was considering it, weighing the offer, seeing how far he could push. And here Avgust was, on his knees like some pathetic man begging for pity. His papa would've been disgusted, spitting with hatred if he saw his son now—kneeling before another man like he was nothing. Seeking ass, something shameful. And Avgust couldn't understand his attraction toward Assad, couldn't explain it away as anything less than his own downfall waiting to happen. If he let him.
Slowly, Avgust's hands moved up Assad's thick thighs, savoring every inch. He wanted to please Assad tonight, wanted to give without taking anything back. That's how Avgust was—a man who got off on giving others pleasure, the kind of man who'd leave you addicted to his touch. God, men like Avgust were dangerous.
Avgust didn't waste time, had Assad's dick out in seconds, and he wasn't surprised to find him already semi-hard. The size, the weight—it excited him. The head of Assad's dick, a perfect mushroom shape with a slight curve, was enough to make Avgust's mouth water. He kissed his way down, slow, leaving warmth over every inch until Assad's skin shivered under his lips. Then, he took Assad into his mouth, the wet heat making Assad groan low and deep.
Avgust hummed as he deep-throated him, the vibration powerful enough to make Assad's body jerk. Assad thrust up, pressing deeper into Avgust's mouth, but Avgust didn't miss a beat, kept that hum going, sending waves of pleasure up Assad's spine. Fingers tangled in Avgust's blonde hair, yanking at the roots, and the pull sent a twitch straight to Avgust's own dick.
His throat tightened around Assad, gagging slightly, but he didn't stop, just adjusted, let his throat close around Assad's length even tighter.
"Fuck," Assad muttered under his breath, his hips rising off the couch, plunging himself into Avgust's throat. Been a minute since he'd had head this good, and he could feel the climax building fast, the tension tight and electric.
Assad's breath quickened, catching in his throat as his heart pounded. Avgust tightened his throat around Assad's dick again, squeezing tighter, and the room filled with Assad's heavy panting, the sound like music to Avgust's ears. He timed his breaths, steady and even, to match Assad's rhythm. Another tight contraction, and Assad groaned, his release flooding down Avgust's throat. The Russian didn't let up, milking every last drop, drawing out every bit of Assad's pleasure until he was left empty and spent.
Then, without a word, Avgust pulled Assad down by the shirt, meeting him with a heated kiss. Assad slipped his tongue into Avgust's mouth, tasting himself on the Russian's tongue—salty and raw.
"Whatever you want," Avgust said, his breath heavy. "I'll give it to you."
Author's Note:
If you're reading Big Gangsta, how did you find my book? :) (If you don't follow me, lol)
What's been your favorite so far about the book?
Big Gangsta will not be a Mpreg story anymore like I wanted from the beginning when I first started writing this story. Sorry.
Other MxM mafia-related books I have written that are still ongoing
Love In The Dark | WMBM MPREG
Love Cycle |AMBM
The Mafia's Heir| WMBM MPREG
Gangsta's Paradise |WMBM
Caught In The Crossfires Of love |AMBM
Royal & King |AMBM |MXMXM
A Fight For Love |AMBM
Thanks to the reader who mention Patreon to me!
I'm wondering if there's other platforms you all use? That way I can share more stuff about Big Gangsta like behind the scene the. stuff if that's something you all would like to see.
I do have an author Facebook page if you want to follow that. Just let me know.
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BIG GANGSTA | WMBM MPREG | MAFIA & GANGSTA
Romance"If you wanted to kill me," Avgust said softly, his voice smooth like velvet, "you would've done it long ago." His blue eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something daring. "Now that I've given you the chance, you hesitate." Assad's chest tighte...
