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February/March
1992, the Persian Gulf
Dan
pulled the towel from around his hips and threw himself down
onto the mattresses, lit fag dangling from the corner of his
mouth. His hair dripped water onto the blankets, with single
drops rolling over his skin. Vadim put the shining boot down
to marvel at the toned skin, and wrapped up the polishing
kit.
"So,"
Dan inhaled, "fancy a stint to my home country before
heading to France?" Exhaling with a sound of contentment.
He'd just come back from a particularly gruelling shift, and
the first moment of relaxation was always the best. Right
after wolfing down the food.
"Scotland?"
Vadim had learned several Dan did not really consider himself
a 'Brit', and that it seemed to count for something to call
him Scottish or even Scots.
"Aye,
Scotland. Land of the Brave." Dan grinned, stretched
his legs all the way down to his toes before flopping back
into a boneless heap. "We'll be in Europe anyway, and
I'd like you to see some of the most beautiful parts of Scotland,
especially the Highlands. Show you my peasant roots."
He laughed.
"But
you are my favourite peasant, Dan. Too much culture would
spoil you, and make you moody, like I am." Vadim rested
his arms on his knees, studying Dan doing his best cat impression:
lying there like he didn't have a care in the world. He looked
like he could revert from awake to asleep within a split second.
"I'd like to see it."
"Good,
that means we'll have a look at Edinburgh and instead of going
to every bloody museum and historical site I get to enjoy
the pubs, aye? And then, of course, off to the North. I want
you to see the area I come from. It's just a tiny village,
though, nothing interesting." Stubbing his cigarette
out in a makeshift ashtray, Dan pulled a couple of pillows
close and propped himself up.
Vadim
smiled, but the thought struck him that, if it was such a
tiny village, they would run into friends, acquaintances,
and the whole host of Dan's contacts from his youth, childhood,
and whatever time he'd spent there on R&R. And his family,
obviously. His face darkened at the thought and there was
unrest, suddenly. "We should be subtle. About ... us.
About what we are to each other."
"Huh?
What do you mean?" Dan's brows furrowed, scratching his
scarred abs.
"Your
family. If we meet them ... they don't know you are homosexual,
or do they?"
"Why
would we meet my family?" Dan's brows rose even higher,
completely forgetting the second part.
"Do
they still live in that village? Why else are you going there?"
Vadim felt he was on thin ice, somehow. Of course a visit
to the home village would mean a visit to the family. What
else? And why not? It would be rude to not at least pay a
visit.
"Aye,
they do." Dan shrugged, "but wasn't exactly planning
on staying over." Reaching for a water bottle, he took
his time unscrewing the cap. "Last time I saw my brother,
wife and kids, was when I visited my father shortly before
he died. I was on R&R from Afghanistan." Tipping
the bottle to his lips, he took an even longer time drinking.
"It was right after the shit with the Muja corpses."
Wiping his lips, "that's, what, how many years ago? Can
you remember?"
"Five
or six?" Vadim realised it was guesswork. He didn't know.
He didn't want to remember, had pushed Afghanistan as far
away as he could.
"Hmm
84? Hang on, I forgot, I actually went up again in
87, when I got out of the army. Went to see my brother to
settle some finances. I think that might be about it. Makes
it five years." Dan shrugged, while Vadim didn't want
to think about when his father would die. He was old, even
frail by now, but he might still have five, ten, or fifteen
years in him. Years spent away from his ex-daughter-in-law,
with his brother and other relatives. But in essence, his
'old man' as the Yanks called it, was alone. A disturbing
thought. "So, just that brother and his family? Are you
not on good terms?"
"Sure
I am, my brother has been dealing with my finances for years.
He was the one who invested my money in property and sold
the houses for good profit when I needed the cash." Dan
shrugged. "He's a good guy, but I'm just not close with
my family. Never got to see them regularly. Was always out
and about, and figured it was a damn lot easier to stay away
in case I got killed. Don't want anyone to shed a tear, aye?"
He produced a mock-cheerful grin.
Vadim
frowned, then sat down next to Dan, to run a hand through
his hair. He hadn't realized all those years that Dan had
been completely alone even at home. It made his guts clench.
To refuse human contact only to make sure that he wouldn't
be missed. He was speechless, shocked.
"Hey,"
Dan poked Vadim's ribs. "What's up? Did you think I was
doing the job, all on my own for all those years, with a big
loving family behind me?" He laughed without humour.
"No,
but I didn't think it was that bleak. I thought there was
... more for you." More? Like a loving, supportive wife
that watched his back and lived a lie?
"More?
What the hell would that be? I fucked bimbos, got pissed with
mates. Stuffed holes left right and centre, that's all I wanted
and needed. Until
" He trailed off and mock-punched
Vadim's ribs, more a gentle touch than anything. "No
one at home knew what I was really doing. OK, SAS and all
that shit, and my father was bloody proud, but I was on secret
missions, and you know as much as I do that it's better for
everyone on the outside not to know too much. Safer. For them,
for me." He shrugged and smiled. "Besides, I got
you, and now you're on my side, I have all I need."
"I
was on your side for quite a while longer", said Vadim
with that rare, tender smile. "Only not official. And
not quite exclusive, but I've been yours for a long time now."
Dan smiled,
leaned his head against Vadim's. "But you're mine now
with all the bells and whistles, aye?"
"Official,
blood and guts, breath and everything else." Vadim lay
back on his elbows, taking Dan's head with him, looking thoughtful.
"Do you want to visit your brother, then?"
"Do
you think I should?"
"Wouldn't
it be rude if you didn't? He's your brother. Just, you know,
catching up. I can stay at the hotel while you meet him and
his family, it's no problem."
Dan laughed
again, this time the humour was back. "There are no hotels
as far as I remember. Just B&Bs. Guess they'd be looking
funny at us if we booked a double room."
"Then
we'll book singles."
"Nope."
Dan shook his head, "no fucking way."
Strange,
Vadim thought, that it was easier to live as a couple in a
mercenary camp than in one's own hometown. Well, 'easier'
as in getting beaten up, ambushed, constantly sneered at -
until the point when one had actually proven that one had
more balls than the rest of them. "It's no problem."
"As
I said, no fucking way. I'd rather not go back." Sitting
up, Dan studied Vadim. "I don't give a shit what my family
knows or not. I never told them I'm gay because it didn't
matter to me if they knew or not. Besides, back then I wasn't
quite
" Dan shrugged, couldn't find the right word,
"anyway, five years ago I wasn't as much 'me' as I am
now. So, we either fucking go as who we are, or we don't fucking
go at all."
"Oh
damn." Vadim shook his head. "What would you say?
'This is Vadim, my gay partner'?"
"No.
More like 'this is Vadim. My partner'. Bloody unnecessary,
the 'gay' part, isn't it?"
Vadim
felt another wave of dread, just the thought of being exposed
again, of seeing people - family - shocked, appalled and disgusted
again. Why not simply let them live? Leave them their illusions?
"Why hurt or disturb your family, Dan? For what? Why
can't we just keep a low profile?"
"Why
the fuck would they be hurt by who I am? And what the
fuck does that matter to them? I am fucking me!
If they have a fucking problem with that, they can shove it
up their fucking arses." Dan had gone from mellow to
extremely pissed off in a nanosecond.
Because.
Everybody had a problem with it. Vadim remembered too well
the hurt in his father's eyes, the 'how could we have helped
you', the guilt, the shame. He didn't want to go through that
again.
"It's
their problem, not mine. If you want to get through
your bloody life lying all the way, then guess what, Russkie,
you can do it on your fucking own." Dan sat up, tense,
dark eyes on fire.
"It's
just that it's nobody else's business, Dan." Vadim stood,
needed to take the brunt of the rage standing. Lying. No,
just keeping a low profile. It wasn't lying. Not technically.
"Why do we have to go ... out of our way to rub it in
their faces?"
"What
the fucking fuck do you mean with rubbing it into their
faces?" Dan jerked, as if wanting to get up as well,
but remained sitting, fists at his side. "I just am who
I am, what the motherfucking fuck's 'rubbing' about that?
Every stupid dripping cunt can eat the fucking face of her
fucker in public, but if I simply turn up with my partner,
that's 'rubbing it in'?" Dan did finally get up, naked
or not, he was fuming with rage. "Fuck you, together
with them, if that's your idea of leading your life."
Fuck
you. Vadim's words died in his throat. He knew he was
being a coward and now he was ashamed of that, too. He'd either
get all that disgust, or Dan's rage. Dan was pushing him into
it, but he just couldn't do it. He'd be ashamed either way,
for what he was, for what he felt. Degenerate. Coward. Broken.
He couldn't meet that bristling gaze, looked to the side instead.
Standing there, feeling cold and numb. "Need shower",
he pressed out, trying to make it sound normal and reached
for his shower kit. Retreating so fast that, yes, the fact
that it was 'running away' was really damned obvious.
Dan was
still raging, even when Vadim had fled. Pacing the few yards
in the hut, to and fro, while smoking a fag, and then another.
Finally grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he got his
feet into trainers and stormed out of the hut with the third
fag between his teeth and a water bottle under his arm. Knackered
from the shift, knees aching, but he had to get rid of the
aggression that was eating him up from the inside. Couldn't
understand why the fuck Vadim behaved like such a coward,
and what the fuck was bad about being together? If they'd
survived the likes of Midge and his cronies, emerging victorious,
what the hell was wrong with being who they were and being
together?
He got
himself into the gym, and ignoring the aches and pains of
his aging body, he beasted it in a merciless regime, with
more weights than he usually used, and many more repeats.
Vadim
had a long, drawn-out shower, which didn't quite relax him.
He could still feel that dread in his body, a very physical
reaction. Body so tensed up from it, he felt stiff and weakened.
Eventually he returned, to find Dan gone. Jean hadn't seen
him, nobody seemed to have, and the Mess tent was also devoid
of Dan. Left the gym. Vadim walked there and, sure enough,
Dan, in the process of working his muscles so hard that he'd
ache in a million places tomorrow. Vadim inhaled deeply, stepped
behind the bench on which Dan was lying, and took the weight
from his grip when Dan started to struggle pushing it up.
Apart from another guy in the corner doing pull-ups, they
were pretty much alone.
Dan was
looking up, straight at Vadim. Face drenched in sweat, he
said nothing.
Vadim
crouched near Dan's head, elbows on thighs, head lowered,
speaking in a hushed tone. "I'm not ready for that. I
... when I see that disgust, it still ... hurts me. I can't
just shrug it off like you can. They ... called me all these
things. The KGB. They said homosexual ... activity would extend
my jail sentence. They insinuated ... things. Like I'd slept
my way up, that I enjoyed to debase myself by getting fucked,
that I'd raped my son ... all these things. I'm not ... not
ready to face that kind of thing again, Dan. I'm not strong
enough. I'm not like you." He stood, turning away because
the dread was worse, had transformed into weakness, leaden
weakness, the feeling and taste of defeat.
Dan did
nothing, lay there, silent. Too shocked to the core to move
a muscle. He hadn't ... hadn't known ... couldn't even make
sense of any of his thoughts. Got finally up, felt more shattered
than could have been caused by his workout. Every movement
worth a lifetime of dread.
He still
didn't say anything when he got up and wiped his face with
the edge of his soggy t-shirt. Not even when he placed his
hand into the small of Vadim's back. Finally a word, just
one. "Come." Leading Vadim out of the gym and back
towards the hut.
Vadim
followed, felt the shame of being so fucking weak, but at
the same time the touch had replaced Dan's rage. He didn't
know what to expect, but he was glad that Dan didn't shout
at him now, was glad for the contact.
Dan closed
the door behind them, and took a step closer to Vadim, until
there was hardly a hand's breadth between them. He touched
Vadim's face, tracing the cheekbone, along the jaw line, until
his fingertips merely rested on smooth skin. "I am so
fucking sorry." Quietly, while looking at Vadim. No rage
now in his eyes, just a deep seated sorrow. "I didn't
get it. I told you I'm no fucking brainy, just didn't realise
I am such an idiot." His lips twitched, trying to turn
into a smile, "forgive me?"
"Nothing
to forgive, Dan. Nothing at all. I'm not ... not ashamed of
what I feel, but of what ... I see in people's faces. I can't
explain all that. I can't take that from them, that ... disgust.
It's better they think I'm ... that I fit in." Found
it still hard to breathe, pressed Dan's hand to his cheek.
"Maybe one day."
"Aye,"
Dan nodded and swallowed, "maybe one day." Remorse
unveiled in his eyes. Too open, too readable, and too damn
straightforward.
"Don't.
You are ... good like you are. Your confidence, your balls."
Vadim tried a smile and touched his forehead to Dan's. "We
don't have to visit your family. Maybe ... hire a caravan,
and we won't even have to deal with any bed and breakfast
owners. There are always alternatives."
"I
just wanted to be
" Dan trailed off and never finished
the sentence, just shrugged, drawing in a deep breath. "Don't
know if I want to go. Better to just stay far away."
Shrugged again, "they say Sweden and Denmark are cool
places. They marry in Denmark, you know. Blokes." Kept
shrugging. "I don't
" didn't finish that sentence
either and pulled his lips into a smile instead, before taking
a step back. "Got to go for a shower." Turning away.
Looking for his towel and soap bag.
Seeing
Dan so flustered hurt. It hurt because it was his fault, caused
by being a coward. Konstantinov. The torturer was right. He'd
never fully recover. Shame was one of their weapons. And now
they had hurt Dan, too. "Dan, I ..." I'm scared,
I'm so ashamed, I'm so fucking broken. "... want to go.
I want to see Scotland. And where you're from." Even
if that meant being not welcome, worse, being hated and feeling
another wave of disgust and disdain. "I ... can face
it. I will face it. It's ... alright." And at the same
time, he was scared, could feel himself shudder at the thought,
because of the tension building up inside.
"We'll
see, OK?" Towel and soap bag under his arm, Dan tried
another smile while patting Vadim's shoulder. "Plenty
of time left, we just decide closer to April, alright?"
"Okay."
Taking
a step to the door, "I'll see you in a bit. Just ...
shower, you know. Stuff." With that he slipped through
the door, closing it quietly behind him.
Vadim
nodded, wincing inwardly, wondered if he should keep Dan back,
but didn't want to be hysterical. Just felt that horrible
thing, being helpless, having made a mistake, with no way
to repair it, no way to make it vanish. He rubbed his face,
restless and nervous, sat down on the bed. How was it that
everything was alright when they were alone and together,
like in one of those fucking caves, but somehow, once outside
factors were drawn in, they screwed everything up?
Dan returned
after half an hour, more than double the time he usually took.
Bringing with him a pack of biscuits, one from the stash he'd
been sent by the Baroness and which he hoarded in the other
hut. Cigarette between his lips, towel around his hips, his
smile was pretty much back to normal when he stepped through
the door. "Fancy some bikkies? Was thinking of getting
a brew on."
"Tea?"
Vadim checked the time. "Of course, tea." Nothing
in the world that tea didn't make better, he heard Dr Williams
say, and the thought of the older man was somehow reassuring.
"Yes. I could start it? Or at least try and find milk."
"Aye,
tea. Milk and sugar."
"I
remember", said Vadim, lightly, glad he could get busy
and do something, even if it was just making tea.
Dan threw
himself once more onto the mattress, exactly the same way
as before. He grinned up at Vadim as if nothing had ever happened,
and Vadim served the tea and sat with him. Between biscuits
and tea, Dan did not bring up the topic again, and neither
did he later. Not a word. Not now, not through the night,
and not the days after. Joking and grinning, the same irreverent,
easy-going man as before, with the same appetite for sex and
Vadim. The same arms that wrapped around Vadim at night and
the same body that spooned behind him.
Vadim,
however, didn't quite forget. Wrestled with the thought, and
how to bring up the topic again. And most importantly, when,
and in what way. He carefully examined himself, as he always
did, and expected for Dan to bring it up, but it didn't happen.
One night,
after sex, Vadim murmured: "We should book flights for
Britain ... and I should call Dr Williams. I was thinking
we could meet him and then go by train up to Edinburgh. Rent
a car, and you show me ... your area."
Dan had
drifted off, sated to the bones, and utterly relaxed. "Hm?
Britain?" Murmured, he had hardly caught half of it.
"Weren't we meant to go to Kiwiland when we're done in
this place?"
"It's
a long flight to New Zealand
I thought we'd stick around
in Europe until Jean gets his ring on his hand."
"Mmm
guess that's right. Got a couple months to kill before
our next destination. Heard rumours it's going to be the Balkans."
Dan yawned, rolled onto his back and stuck his feet out of
the blanket. Stretching his calves while his eyes remained
half-closed. "Didn't think you
we should go?"
Vadim
shifted, adjusted his body, rearranged his limbs until his
head rested on Dan's shoulder and he could see the stubble
on Dan's throat close. "I'd like to see where you come
from. Where
they make people like you."
Dan chuckled
in the back of his throat, which vibrated through Vadim. "People
like me? You mean Scottish peasants, aye?" Twisting his
head until he caught the tips of the short-shorn hair, kissing
Vadim's head.
"My
favourite type
"
"But
if we go, how do you want to do it?" Dan paused for a
while, the topic wasn't one he'd wanted to engage with again,
but he was sated and mellow enough this time to gave it another
go. "Twin rooms? Mates do take twin rooms, cheaper that
way. Because, I swear, on everything that is important to
me, that you won't get me to take single rooms. I will not
sleep in another room from you. Not on R&R."
"Ah.
Twin. Separate beds. That could work. And we'd just move the
mattresses on the floor and still sleep together. I doubt
we fit both into the same bed
not in case there's some
vigorous movements going."
"Or
we just don't have any sex but at least fall asleep, squeezed
into one bed. You can chuck me out when I'm snoring."
Dan smiled. "And if we do go, we will lie when we're
in rural areas. Aye?"
"Aye."
That should work. Be careful where it counted and less careful
where it didn't mean a thing. "And regarding your family?
Should we meet up at a restaurant and have a friendly chat?"
"There
are no restaurants, just pubs, and I don't think you'd quite
fit into a Highland pub."
"No?"
Vadim raised an eyebrow. What was this place that it
was so very peculiar?
"No.
You'd be sticking out like a sore thumb." Dan yawned
and shrugged, he didn't feel comfortable, but wouldn't let
on. Not this time. "I call my brother and let him know
I'm coming, bringing a 'mate' with me, who happens to be a
fellow merc and who happens to go to the same wedding of yet
another fellow merc and mate, and who happens to want to get
a chance of travelling round Scotland, so I happen to take
him along." Dan shrugged again, "but I warn you,
I am a shit liar."
"Dan,
but we are comrades. Okay, we are more than that, but if we
just stick to the official version."
"The
official version, Vadim, is that: We. Are. Lovers. So don't
start with that one again, aye?" Dan smiled to take the
sting out.
"The
other official version, then." Oh fuck, he was
starting to think in Doublethink. Doublespeak.
"Whatever."
Dan stretched his legs out once more. "I don't want to
discuss it, OK? I do what you want and I take you to Scotland
as a mate and nothing more, but I just don't want to talk
about it." Yawning. "And besides, it is time to
sleep. Aye?"
Vadim
nodded. "Yes. To sleep, perchance to dream."
"Is
that one of your depressing authors?"
"No,
that's the Bard of Avon. Old Bill. William Shakespeare, your
one true national genius."
"Oh
shit, he's the one we had to read in school. Romeo and all
that crap. A balcony and a stupid bint making great literature?
I tell you, that bastard was a sadist and I'd like to punch
the guy for every dreadful hour we had to spend reading that
bullshit." Dan grinned.
"Really?
Did it never strike you that that friend of Romeo's was quite
in love with Romeo? And then Romeo falls for the girl?"
"Huh?"
Dan rubbed his eyes, yawning again. "I can't remember
jack shit, but if they got it on, that Romeo guy and his friend,
even I would read it."
"As
far as I remember, there's some evidence that they did
Some hints in the text. I can't quote it, but when I was reading
it, I thought this guy -Mercutio? - was being very jealous."
"Hints?
Oh come on, Russkie, I don't do hints. Give me full-on porn
or nothing." Grinning, Dan poked and prodded Vadim until
he lay on his side and Dan could cuddle up. "But if you
ever come across a good porn book," yawning, "let
me know, I'll read it, even though videos are better."
"You
savage. I thought your favourite was the live thing?"
Vadim's hand moved to Dan's flank, stroking the hip and thigh.
"Of
course it is." Nuzzling the back of Vadim's neck, Dan
grinned sleepily. "But sometimes a man's got to wank.
Easier on the system."
"True."
Vadim's fingers tightened on Dan's leg. "I'll let you
recharge, then. It's in my own best interest." Chuckling
lowly and relaxing against Dan, who'd already fallen asleep.
He was pretty much awake, but would just try to sleep. Thinking,
going through what had happened, retracing the day, the week,
and then moving forward. Planning, as far ahead as he could.
It still didn't sit quite right with him that Dan didn't want
to talk about Scotland, but he respected that. Family was
always a tricky business.
*
* * * * * *
March/April
1992
Dan had
promised Vadim that he'd organise everything, but he otherwise
didn't engage in conversations about the plans. He happily
talked about France and the wedding, even about his worries
regarding the best man speech, but Scotland was strangely
off limits. They'd go straight to the Highlands, that was
all he'd told Vadim. Stopping over in Edinburgh later, flying
from there to France for the wedding.
When
the day came, Dan stood impatiently beside a Lannie, his bag
slung over his shoulder, waiting for Vadim. "We'll miss
the bloody flight!"
"Then
we book another one." Vadim came closer, duffle bag slung
across his back.
"And
spend even more money? Bollocks! Get a shift on, Russkie."
"Relax.
As long as the gate's not closed when we get there, we should
be okay."
"Not
my idea of a relaxing start to R&R." Dan grinned
and slapped Vadim's arse before getting into the car.
Vadim
gave a surprised laugh at the slap, which actually stung a
bit, and he plonked down in the car. "Alright, alright."
Watching Dan as he drove. "Like that would break the
bank."
"I
got to watch my money. Remember the farm? I want to get that
done before this body breaks down." Dan flashed a grin,
but the humour wasn't entirely there. More tense than usual.
"I
know, but we have my money, too. And if we can't afford the
work, we put it back together ourselves. And besides, even
if one of us gets fucked up, there's still the other. We don't
have to worry about it."
Dan shrugged,
but got them to the airport in record time, left the Lannie
in the car park to be picked up by one of the mercs later,
and they legged it to the terminal, where the flight was being
announced.
"See?
It's not 'last call to Heathrow' yet", huffed Vadim.
Running, however, right next to Dan. "The gate's still
open."
"But
not for much longer." Flashing IDs and tickets, they
just about made it to the plane, where they threw themselves
into the seats, catching their breath. "Right."
Dan fastened his seat belt, "from Heathrow it's change-over
onto a plane to Glasgow, then straight up along the West Coast.
I got a hire car booked for us."
Vadim
smiled. "We'll take turns driving. Do we stay somewhere
overnight or when are we expected where?" Pulling the
seat belt tighter and stretching his legs, getting comfortable
for the flight.
"Aye,
we stay in Glasgow for a couple of days. Didn't you want to
have a suit made for the wedding? Besides, we'd arrive too
late to drive up to my brother's." Dan turned his head
and looked out of the window, staring at nothing while the
plane began to move on the runway.
Vadim
reached across the armrest and placed a hand on Dan's knee
and Dan turned his head, looking at him through the shades,
with clear surprise. Vadim took Dan's hand as the plane accelerated
and finally lifted off. The land beneath them bleeding away
and they were soon on the way to Europe. Scotland. Britain.
The island nation that had taken him in. It felt odd, like
a meeting with a stranger, even after Selection. He'd be walking
around, not cloistered away in barracks, not training for
any specific purpose, but actually encountering his adopted
country. Not a mother- or fatherland, but a sanctuary nonetheless.
"I'm actually looking forward to this", he said,
as if surprised by the thought.
"Are
you?" Dan was still holding onto Vadim's hand, the gesture
a novelty, at least in public. Semi-public. "I didn't
think you were."
"I'm
curious. And it will be good to not wear camo for a while."
Vadim looked at him. "I think it's a good kind of nervous."
Dan was
looking at him, even pushed the shades off his eyes. His expression
entirely neutral. "Aye, but you told me you didn't want
anyone to know who we are. Are you still adamant about that?"
Who we
are. Not what we are. Vadim frowned at the curious way to
put this. What - answer: lovers. Who - answer: Dan and Vadim.
How was the orientation thing part of the Who instead of part
of the What? "I don't know how they will react, that's
all", said Vadim, feeling the dread again, but fighting
it this time.
"I
don't know either." Dan shrugged, kept looking at Vadim,
but when nothing else was forthcoming, he shrugged again.
"Alright, I'll lie. Shouldn't be too difficult, even
though I'm a shit liar. Am not exactly on intimate terms with
my brother and his family, haven't seen them for a few years,
but he does keep my finances in bloody good order."
Vadim
nodded. "I'm sorry I'm such a coward", he said,
almost tonelessly, again the dread replaced with shame.
"It's
OK." Dan drew in a deep breath, "guess I should
apologise for being pushy. I know they fucked you up, but
it's hard to fully understand what it did to you."
Vadim
pressed his lips together, looking around for the bustling
stewards who were just getting the trolley ready behind them.
Taking the moment to swallow and keep his composure, while
Dan squeezed his hand.
"But
I don't think you ever were happy with being gay, aye?"
Dan asked quietly.
Vadim
inhaled. "That's not
an easy question, Dan. It's
not as simple as 'yes' or 'no'. Did I
did I wish I
wasn't? Yes, I did. There were times when I cursed it. When
I wanted to fit in, to not be a target. When I
was
ashamed. But that's always from outside. It's when they fuck
my mind. When they tell me I'm a criminal for sleeping with
men. A degenerate. My
the masseur once told me I should
never believe them when they told me I couldn't win because
of my feelings. That was good advice. He said I should never
believe that my feelings weaken me. When there's nobody else,
just you and me, or just me, I'm not ashamed. It's part of
me, I accepted it long ago. I know my life would have been
different if I wasn't what I am", not who, "and
it's certainly tougher, but I am not ashamed of you, or what
I feel for you. It's what other people think of me, how they
treat me for it, how they assume I'm a criminal for feeling
the way I do. A limp-wristed faggot who slept his way up,
another man's suka. That
that is tough to bear. To
see that contempt and disgust in people's faces. And I know
I shouldn't care, but it bites."
Dan shook
his head, opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again.
Couldn't come up with anything to say, just kept looking and
holding that hand. Murmuring something under his breath, while
leaning his head against Vadim's shoulder. Didn't get it,
couldn't understand, because he'd never felt like that. Ironic,
really, that he, the gay-basher, who'd fucked himself through
dozens of bimbos, to prove he was a stud and straight as hell,
couldn't give a shit about anyone's comments or thoughts.
But what did it matter. Arguing anymore or trying to understand
each other, wouldn't get them any further. Thus he said nothing
and simply stayed close. Physical contact had always worked
for them throughout the years, he'd simply have to cling to
that as long as Vadim let him.
Vadim
pressed his hand for a long moment and rested his head against
Dan's. Hoped Dan would understand. Being gay didn't actually
make him a happier or unhappier person. It didn't make him
better, or worse. It just was. No reason to be happy about.
Something like the blood type, or eye colour. "But it's
good you're happy with it, Dan. Very good."
"Happy
as in 'I don't mind it. It's fine. It's the way I am.'"
Dan sighed, ignored the second steward, "that's the way
we use 'happy' in English. Not running around ecstatically,
shouting out to the world how deliriously happy I am because
I am gay."
Vadim
laughed softly at the image. "Okay. Then I'm happy about
it, too. Most of the time, at least, unless some bastard mocks
or attacks me for it." Remembering, he thought he'd stood
his ground against Dan, back in Afghanistan, before they'd
stopped to try and kill each other. But then, there had been
different rules between enemies.
"There
will always be people talking bullshit." Dan shrugged,
"at least we're not in the same shitty position those
guys were in, I was beating the crap out of. Back in the bad
old days." Finally acknowledging a steward when they
came past for the third time, sitting up to get his drink
and morsel of food. He stretched as best he could, before
leaning back in the seat. "Well, at least I get to show
you my country. Scotland. That should be worth something,
aye?"
"Everything,
not 'something'." Vadim accepted his drink and food with
a nod towards the steward. Trusting Dan to make the decisions
when they'd be in the country. He didn't expect any kind of
trouble, but was looking forward to actually seeing the places
that had produced somebody like Dan. Moscow would very much
remain off limits, so Scotland would have to do.
The rest
of the flight was spent uneventfully, with Dan either snoozing
or gazing out of the window. He never tired to watch the endless
sky and the clouds beneath, wishing himself back into the
Afghan mountains, a place he'd probably never see again, even
though he hadn't given up on it yet.
Landing
in Heathrow, they had to navigate the moloch of an insanely
busy international airport in an even more insanely busy capital
city, and while they were waiting in the queue for 'EU citizens',
holding their identical looking passports in hands, Dan turned
to Vadim. "Have you actually been anywhere in Britain?"
"Apart
from London and the
" Vadim paused, knew he'd slipped
up, but also knew that he had to mask it well now, because,
despite everything, he had no idea how Dan would react to
the whole London episode from years back, "the little
place, what was it called? Hereford? No."
"Ah,
yes, guess they shipped you to Hereford via London, aye? Wouldn't
surprise me, everyone seems to stop over here for everything."
"All
roads lead to Rome." One day it might slip. One day.
But not today. Ideally, never. Vadim had very few secrets,
but this whole 'go off to London and commit a murder' episode
- never mind the people he'd met there, Darren and
what was the other man's name again? He couldn't remember.
He'd fucked him, had seen him bared and vulnerable and kind,
but he didn't remember.
Dan grinned,
stepping forward to the glass booth and having his passport
swiftly examined before making it through and waiting for
Vadim on the other side, who was still amazed that he could
cross borders this easily. "I'm afraid I think London's
a bit shit. Too expensive." He shrugged when Vadim turned
up as well.
"It
seemed very big, very crowded, and
not much else. But
very free."
"All
big places are. Go to Newcastle, and shit, you can't be freer
than that. Or Glasgow, but you'll see for yourself."
Dan chuckled, "good thing, though, we can fend for ourselves,
because Glasgow is a dangerous old dump. Comes with the freedom."
They didn't have to hurry this time and could make their way
leisurely through the corridors to their destination gate,
to catch their connecting flight.
"Want
anything?" Dan pointed to a stall with hot drinks and
sandwiches. "I could do with a cuppa, but coffee's shit
around here, as far as I remember. Never got a single decent
brew in this country. Usually instant or stewed acid."
"Tea?
It's hard to make tea entirely unpleasant."
"This
is the land of tea, I'd think even an airport will manage."
As Dan
was turning towards the stall, fishing for his wallet, Vadim
touched his shoulder briefly. "And something to eat -
something small, like a Snickers."
"Snickers?
Pah! You mean Marathon. Damned renaming of old favourites.
But aye, I'll get you one, might grab one for myself."
It took about ten minutes before Dan returned. Balancing a
couple of paper cups and a handful of chocolate bars.
"Couldn't
make up my mind." Dropping an assortment of Snickers,
Mars, Bounty, Milky Way, Caramac, Galaxy, Curly Wurly and
- worst of all - a large peanut butter energy bar - into Vadim's
lap, then holding one of the cups out to him. "There
you go. We've got half an hour if there's no delay. Feast
yourself on the airport's finest." He grinned and sat
down.
Vadim
took the cup and glanced accusingly at the energy bar. "Peanut
butter
will haunt me to my grave, aye?" However,
that was the first one he ate, while Dan kept laughing. He
still liked the flavour and it worked alright with the bitter
dark tea to wash the cloying sweetness down. "If you
want any of these
be my guest."
"Thought
you'd never ask." In the next half hour, Dan worked his
way through all of the chocolate bars, except for the Snickers,
which he waved in front of Vadim's face as their flight got
called. "Wasn't that the one you wanted?" Walking
in front of him, like the proverbial carrot on a stick, while
boarding.
Vadim
laughed. "I'd tell you what I want, but then we'd get
thrown off the plane for gross indecency."
"No
Mile High Club for me?"
"What
is that?"
Craning
his head, Dan murmured, for once keeping his voice down, "it's
the 'club' of all of those who've fucked in the loos of an
air plane, high up in the sky."
"No.
None of that for us. Not this time."
"Damn."
Dan grinned and managed to sashay his arse in front of Vadim,
to the mild shock of an elderly couple who'd already sat down
along the aisle. Grinning, he got into the window seat, and
the whole rigmarole of boredom started up again. At least
the flight was mercifully short and they had barely time for
a drink.
When
they arrived, it was waiting, queuing, shuffling and waiting
some more, before they got to their luggage. "I tell
you what." Dan frowned darkly, as they stood around the
carousel, trying to spot their kit. "I'll never fly anything
but first class again. Civilian air traffic is shit."
Vadim
laughed. "It certainly has more leg room. They must have
designed those seats for people who are five foot six the
most."
"I
thought it wouldn't matter for a short hop, but bullshit.
Give me a Hercules any day." Spotting his bergan, Dan
snatched it off the rotating band, closely followed by Vadim
who'd spotted his and just checked whether everything was
in order.
"Done?
If we're lucky we make it to the hotel in time for dinner.
I'm bloody starving."
"You
are always starving, Mad Dog."
"Aye."
Widening his eyes, Dan produced a face splitting grin while
waggling his brows. "I might be forty-two, but I'm always
starving. And I don't mean food." Overheard by a somewhat
confused looking girl, he flashed a grin at her, before heading
out of the baggage hall. Shoulder to shoulder with Vadim,
who figured escape was the best they could do now, and walking
unhindered through the green tunnel.
In the
arrivals hall, Dan swivelled slowly around, until he spotted
the hire car sign and right beside it the info about the airport
hotels. It took quite some time, with all those people in
front of them, but they finally had the keys for a car and
information about the hotels surrounding the airport.
"I
didn't book anything, figured it wouldn't be a problem."
Dan held the brochures out to Vadim. "Pick one, anyone.
They are all modern and probably crap, but it's only for one
night. Ramada, Express or Holiday Inn?" Waving the Ramada
brochure a bit higher than the others, and the place had three
stars at least.
Vadim
shook his head and confirmed the decision. "Make it Ramada.
Even though it reminds me of 'Ramadan'. What a shit name."
"As
long as we get some food I don't care." They found their
car without trouble, a medium sized, plain and boring vehicle,
nevertheless perfect for the journey, and drove the few hundred
yards into the hotel parking lot. The reception area was bustling,
but Dan strolled purposefully to the first available clerk,
a pretty blonde girl. She had the broadest Glaswegian accent
when she opened her mouth to greet them.
"Do
you have a double room free?"
"Yes,
of course, Sir." She pulled out her reservations list
and checked the free rooms before looking up at him. "Would
you please fill in the form?" Handing the form and pen
over to Dan, she acknowledged Vadim, who'd been behind him.
"And what can I do for you, Sir?"
Vadim
needed several moments even to understand her - more guessing
than truly understanding her question, and he was very close
to acting as if he didn't speak any English, which would have
forced Dan to jump to the rescue. Dan had ordered a double.
Whatever he said that seemed inconspicuous was, at the same
time, offensive to Dan. Vadim's jaw muscles tightened, and
he could feel his heart beat. If they got kicked out here,
there were more options. He only hoped she wouldn't get unpleasant
about it. "No, I'm
good. He is booking already."
"Oh
," her eyes widened, looking from one to the other,
and then she smiled. "But of course, that's no problem."
Wasn't
it? Vadim felt surprise, relief, and didn't quite trust the
situation yet. He expected the hammer to fall. "Good.
I mean, thank you."
Dan had
filled in the form, even though there had been a moment of
tension, pushing the form back to her.
She glanced
at it and nodded. "I hope you will enjoy your stay here.
Breakfast is between 7 and 9 AM, and we have a licensed bar
as well as a very comfortable restaurant." Leaning across,
she picked up a key, still smiling brightly. "Third floor,
just take the corridor to the left." She handed the key
to Dan, who took it with a nod and an all too relieved grin.
Vadim
gathered up his bergan and followed Dan to the elevator, which,
thankfully, opened very soon and allowed them to escape into
the private space of the small cabin. Glancing at the mirror,
Vadim noticed he hadn't flushed - even though he would have
expected to, the way his head was feeling.
"Well,
that wasn't all that bad." Dan smiled.
Vadim
shook his head. "No, it wasn't. She
took it in
stride."
"Of
course, she's a youngster. The times they are a-changing."
Dan grinned and leaned closer, to all intents and purposes
about to kiss. Vadim glanced at the door, hoped it wouldn't
open yet, and kissed Dan, too, couldn't really help it, wanted
to, and just hoped the timing would be lucky.
His luck
held and they didn't hear the 'ping' for the third floor before
they'd moved slightly apart.
"Want
to have a quick shower and then head into town for food?"
Dan stepped out of the lift, "or a quick shower and a
meal here, and then head into town? I'm starving, but I really
do want a good pint of ale, the stuff you can't get anywhere
in the world but the UK. Not that American bear's piss."
They reached the room and Dan let them in. It was spacious
enough, and while it was bland and meaningless, it would serve
well for a night. The bed was certainly big enough.
"Just
order the food to the room while I'm showering and it should
be there when we've showered and changed. Saves time. I'm
having something with meat or fish." Vadim set the bergan
down and closed the door behind them. "Nice enough
"
He undressed, headed to the bathroom, showered, all quick,
efficient, washing the long flight off. It would be good.
Different, but good.
In the
meantime, Dan got the food sorted, and was already stripped
naked when Vadim came out of the bathroom. "Food should
be here any minute." Stepping into the steamed-up room,
"I'll just have a shower and a shave and we're off into
town after grub. I got reception to get us a taxi in forty-five
minutes." Dan's ablutions took even less time than Vadim's,
if it hadn't been for the shaving. Twice a day, and it wasn't
getting any better.
His hair
was still damp when he came back out into the room to the
smell of steaks with roast potatoes and vegetables, and a
couple of beers. Vadim was just arranging the cutlery, having
dressed in what amounted to shockingly civilian clobber -
dark blue designer jeans he'd got in Dubai on their last holiday,
a nice dark grey jumper, flat polished shoes, with his outdoors
jacket expensive enough to fit the whole composition.
"Bloody
hell." Dan threw himself onto the bed with a bounce.
"You look like a GQ model, or Mr Gay 1992."
Vadim
laughed and shook his head. "Keep the flattery coming,
Dan. You know I have a weak spot for that
"
Dan smirked,
reaching to pull the trolley closer. They only had one chair
and he was happy to leave it to Vadim. "If you're looking
that good, then I better get you to dress me as well.
After all, you packed most of my bag."
Vadim
glanced at the bag. "I think the suede trousers. Judging
by the weather, that might be just the thing for you."
"The
what?" Dan had been lifting the lid off his plate, stopping
in mid-motion. "I have what?"
Vadim
smiled at him, the kind of satisfied smile that indicated
one of his plans had come to fruition. "Oh. The dark
brown suede trousers I had tailored for you on the basis of
your favourite jeans."
Dan almost
dropped the lid, and if he had had any food in his mouth yet,
it would have spluttered across the room. "You had suede
trousers made for me? Can it get anymore faggoty? Fucking
hell, I thought you were the one uncomfortable with being
gay, hadn't expected you to turn me into an uber-poof."
Despite the words and the righteous 'outrage', amusement was
tugging at the corners of Dan's mouth.
"Put
them on and then we'll decide how gay you look or don't look",
huffed Vadim. "I think they are fairly subtle."
"Aye,
maybe, but don't you think I'm too old for being a designer-fag?"
"Not
for me. Or did you have a different audience in mind? Jean's
not here."
"Jean
would piss himself with laughter if he saw me in that."
Dan grinned, "but wait till I have my best man's outfit
sorted, if he laughs about that one, I deck him. Groom or
not." Dan finally put the lid down and picked up the
cutlery. "Before I start eating, any more surprises?
What am I going to wear on my feet, what on my upper body,
and what on top? Eh?" Hardly able to suppress the grin.
"No,
you're free to choose based on that the trousers." Vadim
took the lid and set it down on the floor.
"You
know as well as I do, that I haven't got a fucking clue, so
you better give me a hand choosing the rest, if you want the
things to go together." Dan grinned and started to eat,
shovelling the food inside.
"Of
course." The food was decent enough - probably another
good reason to choose the best hotel in the available range.
The steak at least was more than decent. When Vadim started
to eat he noticed himself how hungry he'd been, the nervousness
had suppressed the appetite. "I just like the smell of
leather", he said, somewhat innocently.
"In
that case," chewing then quickly swallowing, "why
do we even bother with going out? We could just have a noseful
of leather and fuck." Subtle as ever, Dan washed his
mouthful down with beer, grinning. "Besides, I like the
glint and coldness of steel, but did I take any blades with
me? Did I hell."
Vadim
laughed, but his body liked the idea, and the laugh was more
husky than he realized. "We can always improvise."
He grinned, soon finishing the steak, washed everything down
with water, then dug into Dan's bag, finding the trousers,
the shoes and the top. "Just put these on, then."
Dan finished
off his beer, laughing when he saw how deftly Vadim pulled
the clothes out of the bag. "I knew it! You packed the
whole outfit, didn't you?"
"I
plead innocent." Vadim's smile was anything but.
Getting
up, Dan lost the towel and shook his damp hair. "Give
us the kit, then, and you tell me what you think."
Deliberately
turning his back to Vadim, Dan bent down, presenting his arse,
which got him another, now huskier laugh, while stepping into
the leather jeans. The suede felt warm and smooth, gliding
up his legs. They fit like a glove, and when he closed the
zipper and button, they felt and looked like a second skin.
Swiftly stepping into socks and shoes, he threw the long-sleeved
top over his head and slowly turned around his axis. "Content?"
"Ah.
I knew it. You manage to pull this outfit off." Vadim
stepped close, ran his hands over Dan's leather-clad ass.
Great idea. Fantastic idea. "Works for me."
"I
would have expected something better than 'works for me'.
After all, how many ex-SAS do you think you'll find, who let
themselves get dressed up like a Barbie doll." He grinned,
"or was that 'Action Man'?"
"If
I said you're making me hard, we would piss off the taxi driver,
Mad Dog Action Man." Vadim laughed at him and pulled
back. "Come on. Get your shoes and let's go out. And
keep that thought."
"I've
got my shoes already. Too distracted by my arse to
notice, eh?" Dan laughed and snatched the jacket. Looking
at it for a moment. "And where the hell did you get that
one from? I don't recognise it." Slipping into the expensive
outdoor jacket. Just as short as the top, and very definitely
not covering his leather-clad buttocks.
"Same
place I ordered mine. You warned me about the weather in the
UK, so I figured these make sense." Opening the door
for Dan.
"You're
lethal in our Western consumer society, you realise that?"
Dan shook his head, laughing. "Buying all that stuff
that no one needs."
"Bullshit.
We do need this stuff."
Dan pocketed
the key and they went down into the lobby, where the taxi
had just pulled up outside. "Let's see if I remember
where to get pissed." Dan told the driver to take them
into the centre of Glasgow, getting out at the edge of Merchant
City.
"Alright,
Russkie, I figure we just walk along until we spot a suitable
pub."
"Okay?"
Vadim glanced around and stayed close to Dan without actually
touching.
Dan realised
all too quickly that he had absolutely no idea where he was
heading, only vaguely remembering the city, and not having
the faintest clue about any hostelries. Walking on, the last
thing he wanted was to lose face and look like an idiot. Stopping
at the sight of a traditional pub that looked welcoming. The
sign said 'Bennett's', and it was otherwise fairly unremarkable.
"What about this one? Looks good to me."
"Sure.
Take point, I cover your back."
"It's
a pub, Vadim, or bar, or whatever you want to call it. I don't
think you need to cover my back." Dan grinned, as he
purposefully walked into the establishment. Heading straight
towards the bar, where a friendly landlord looked up with
a smile. "What have you got on your pump?" Spotting
the 80 shilling before the guy could point it out to him,
Dan ordered two pints straight away. "Doesn't look too
bad, does it?" Quietly to Vadim with a smile.
Vadim
glanced around, seeing not quite the regular scruff he remembered
from the pub in Hereford. Most seemed better groomed, and
most were male. There were a few women, but strangely, these
were sitting in pairs. And most of all, in a country where
nobody ever made eye contact, the majority of the people in
the room - that was, the men - eyed them with interest. In
fact, he was pretty sure there'd been a hush falling over
the room the moment they'd entered. "I sometimes wonder
about your luck", he said, suppressing a laugh.
"What
do you mean?" Paying for the pints, Dan handed one to
Vadim before turning round to face the pub. "The music's
good, the patrons seem to be alright, the landlord's a good
chap, and the beer's from the hand pump. I call that good
luck."
"Yes,
quite. And I doubt any of the men will be going home with
any of the women tonight."
"Oh
" Dan finally clued on and grinned into the room,
catching a few somewhat interested smiles in return, despite
his scarred face and the look of a man more dangerous than
most. Or perhaps because of. Or maybe it was Vadim who got
the reaction. "Best get ourselves a table then, aye?"
Dan grinned contentedly and looked around for a seat in the
rather busy pub.
Vadim
scanned the room. "I guess we'll have to share",
he said. "Or wait till some of the guys leave."
But it was early in the evening, still. He really had no idea
how things would go. Only that if the girl in the hotel had
the regional accent, he wouldn't understand a word that was
going to be said. But Dan was right: the music was good enough
and put a little spring in his step.
Dan found
a table with a couple of free seats on a comfortable looking
bench. The guys at that table seemed friendly enough, and
willingly shifted closer together when he asked if there was
space. They had just about sat down, when the first of a barrage
of questions started, right after an introduction of names.
He hadn't quite expected to be taken in within seconds, and
grinned at Vadim with surprise. Gay or not, they were still
Brits and Brits just didn't do outgoing.
"You
two from around here?" One of the guys asked, whose name
was Martin, and whose accent was far easier to understand
that the thick Glaswegian.
"Not
really." Dan took a sip of his beer, "we've just
come from Kuwait."
Vadim
sat close to Dan, part by choice, part by necessity, and looked
around the table, trying to work out the rules. Meanwhile,
he tried the beer. Not something he'd ever really get used
to, he preferred hard stuff to get drunk, but it was drinkable.
"Through London", he added.
"Aye,"
Dan nodded, and downed half of his pint.
"Kuwait?
Are you businessmen?"
Vadim
shook his head. "Soldiers."
Dan grinned
into his pint glass when he heard an audible intake of breath.
"Well, not anymore, technically. We were. We're mercenaries
now." It all came back to him all of the sudden, the
way he'd played the girls, back in the day, and he added with
a gesture of his scarred hand, "Vadim was spetsnaz, Soviet
special forces, and I was SAS." Smiling innocently as
if he didn't notice the reaction.
"You're
taking the piss!" One of the guys exclaimed, but the
way he leaned forward it was more than obvious how he wanted
this to be true.
"Nope."
Dan placed his hand on the table and tiled his head, so the
scar in his face became more prominent in the light, "or
do you want us to show off more of our scars?"
"Uhm
" said one of them.
Vadim
looked between them and thought, how strange, that did draw
instant reactions from pretty much the whole table. The mix
of awe, incredulity, and, he'd swear, interest. The men were
looking at Dan's scarred hand, and they apparently did believe.
He laughed softly, not quite believing this himself. Suddenly
oddly comfortable as Dan grinned at them, a broad, sharp grin
that wasn't too far away from Dan's whole tiger thing. He
shed his jacket, enjoying Dan's confidence and predatory glee.
To him, the strangest thing was the fact there was no hiding.
Just by being in this place everybody knew they were gay,
and everybody else was gay or looking for gay company. Vadim
looked into the faces and wondered who was seeking what. "Aye,
we have the scars to prove it", he acceded, pulling the
jumper down a little at the collar, to bare the old burn scar
for a moment.
"And
that, actually, is mine." Dan said out of the blue, earning
himself some more stares. His predatory grin increasing in
sharpness. "What, you don't believe me? Want to see the
scar where he shot me in the shoulder?"
There
was a gasp and one of the guys slowly moistened his lips,
while another found his voice. "You really are taking
the piss now."
"Am
I?" Dan's brows rose into his hairline. "Since when
were SAS and Spetsnaz friends in the last decade?" He
leaned forward and pulled the neckline of his top down as
far as he could, revealing a glimpse of the bullet scar and
faint lines of some of the others, before he sat back.
The same
effect again - more awe, and more interest. Vadim was sure
that they would have free pick amongst the table if Dan kept
this up. They probably already were free to choose. Likely,
all they had to do was point at a guy and say 'You'. He doubted
there would be more than a second's hesitation. "Let's
say, the Cold War wasn't quite so cold for the two of us",
he murmured, drawing a nervous laugh from the guy called Martin.
"It's
a dangerous game, fucking a special forces soldier."
Dan commented, lighting a fag.
"Not
if he's tied up nice, eh, Dan?"
Dan's
grin widened, pulling in a lungful of smoke. They'd never
played this game together, had never played any game
in fact, and the effect was like an aphrodisiac. "Aye,
or a blade on his throat or a muzzle in his back, while getting
fucked close to patrol." He showed his teeth in a sharp
grin, while another guy, who'd introduced himself as John,
was turning suspiciously red. Vadim, too, felt his guts tighten;
yes, that fuck. That near-rape, that thing that could have
got Dan killed, and him disgraced. Oh fuck. The memory never
failed to arouse him, and he was lost for words. Their intimate
history now teasing complete strangers.
"And
the garrotte ensures there's no screaming", Vadim added,
helpfully.
"You're
not ... making this up?"
"You
want me to show you?" Dan dropped his voice to
a dangerous huskiness, and the guys were visibly torn between
yes, please, and no, no, just a joke. Haha. Shocked, but completely
enthralled.
"Show
what?"
Dropping
his voice even further, Dan let the smoke escape his nostrils
before he leaned close to the guy who'd asked. "What
it's like to meddle with special forces soldiers
"
Met with
a wide-eyed stare and a very visible gulp. "I
"
"You
what?" Dan smiled with all the innocence he could muster.
"I
"
Dan turned
to face Vadim, dropping his hand in his crotch, without the
slightest attempt at hiding as he briefly stroked Vadim's
cock. "Don't think he knows what he wants, hm?"
Vadim
saw attention now on him, on the way Dan touched him, how
very visibly Dan aroused him. He wanted to be back at the
hotel now, fucking, getting fucked, as brutal as they both
could manage, celebrate the very thing that aroused the civilians
- their fucking deadliness, the fact they'd spilt each other's
blood. His lips opened, to say something like that, let's
get a taxi, but he couldn't think that clearly anymore. If
Dan kept this up, they'd end up as the centrepiece of a gay
orgy. He bared his teeth in a fierce grin and leaned in to
bite Dan's neck, hard enough to sting, rolling the muscle
between his teeth.
Dan sucked
in his breath, then tilted his head, allowing a view onto
the vicious bite as well as better access. All eyes around
the table were fixed onto them, - attention growing all around.
"Guess we are not
" briefly closing his eyes,
"in the right place for this
" murmured, not
that he had the faintest idea what the right place would be,
but the way he felt right now, a comfortable pub was not it.
"You
could ... " Martin again, clearing his throat, "try
Club X, the only gay club in Glasgow, but
" he
never finished his sentence when another guy, who hadn't said
anything but his name yet, finished it for him.
"Or
you could come with us. Martin and I live quite close."
Gordon's voice sounded nervous.
Vadim
turned his head, Dan's flesh only then slipping out from between
his teeth, which had to sting, but Vadim could feel what effect
that had on Dan. Could see it in his eyes, the way he breathed,
the way Dan opened his legs. Pushing them apart. Looking at
Martin, who had a rather plain face, but looked fit, and at
Gordon, who did have good features, a fresh, manly attractiveness
that was probably owed to good diet, exercise, and a healthy
dose of vanity. "Sounds more interesting than our hotel
room", murmured Vadim, in Russian, by way of speaking
code. "Do you want them, tiger?"
Dan kept
looking at the two men, not Vadim, answering in Russian, "I
want them tied up and sweating, on their knees, and begging
for my cock." And fuck, he didn't have a clue where that
had come from, but didn't give a damn either. "And I
want you to watch me fuck them," stubbing out the fag,
he drew in a breath. Turning his head to glance at Vadim,
then back at the others, still in Russian, "and then
I want them to suck you off while I fuck you."
Vadim
stared at him, at that crude, unashamed lust. Dan's coarse
Russian, very much how a soldier would use the words, went
straight into his guts, a knife that aroused him, badly. It
suddenly became ironclad, not just a possibility, no longer
a game. This was moving into dark territory, and part of him
felt the heat rise, as he just nodded, then turned to the
men. "Good", in English. "But we do play hard."
Martin's
eyes had gone bug-eyed and he didn't say anything at all,
while his mates stared at him. Gordon, though, nodded, albeit
nervously. "We don't know either of you. You could be
crazy killers."
Dan flashed
a grin that was far closer to insanity than humour. "We
are killers, just not of guys like you and Martin.
We're killers because it's our job, and if you are worried,
why don't you take your friends with you." Gesturing
across the table, the others visibly cringed. None rose to
the challenge, but every single one of them appeared tempted.
"I
thought you liked mercenaries because they aren't safe",
said Vadim. "As we're not wearing the camo, that's really
the only reason, isn't it?" He leaned in. "If you
want the real deal, it's without in-built security. It's risky,
but so's crossing the road."
"So,
what do you say? Still up for it?" Dan's dangerous grin
was back, before he emptied his beer.
Martin
nodded, quicker than Gordon, his cock had made the decision
for them.
"OK."
"You
got booze?"
Gordon
nodded, "there's an off-license on the way."
"That's
it, then." Standing up, Dan took his time with the movement,
until he stood to his full height. He was still wearing the
jacket, but it only enhanced the breadth of his shoulders
and the solid state of his body. Not a gram of fat, not anywhere,
just muscles. "Hope you don't mind scars
"
he flashed another grin, before he slipped out of the bench.
"Nice to meet you." To those who stayed behind in
silence, and who only nodded.
Vadim
gave them a nod, thought that that stunned silence was part
frustration, part envy, part debating whether they should
join, but he assumed Dan had just steamrolled the whole lot
so badly none of them would find his balls before they were
out of the room. Almost light-headed at how simple this was,
meeting up, making people hard, and then going to somebody
else's home. The one time that had been similar he'd acted
like a bloody beginner. Darren had found him pretty much like
a lost puppy, but he had been weakened by the whole shit.
By falling in love. Now it was Dan and him, on the prowl.
He let Gordon and Martin go first, slipped into his jacket
and murmured: "That was fast
I'm only glad we
did manage some food before we went out."
"Just
pissed off I didn't get my pints." Dan grinned, looked
everything but pissed off, horny instead, with that glint
in his dark eyes that Vadim knew too well. The edge was back,
the old Dan, the man who fucked at knife point.
"What
about pints later?"
"If
we get back before last orders at 11, I've done something
wrong." Dan grinned shark-like, before heading out after
the guys.
Vadim
grinned back, the situation really getting to him, but above
all, Dan's recklessness, his pure balls to go through with
it. Two strangers. He walked behind Dan and gripped his ass
on the way out, kneading the firm muscle, which made Dan slow
down, allowing some time, before they stepped into the street.
Martin
and Gordon were waiting for them, hands in their pockets,
jackets zipped up, braving the miserable cold and damp of
Glasgow in late March. Gordon nodded at them, taking the lead.
"It's just about fifteen minutes away on foot. Is that
alright?"
Dan bared
his teeth in another kick-ass grin. "Ask me to march
twelve miles with a sixty pound bergan on my back and I might
complain. This here is a doddle."
"Well,
this place isn't the Afghan mountains", Vadim added,
mostly to hit the same spot as Dan had.
Dan nudged
Vadim when Martin's eyes went wide once more, but the guy
said nothing. Seemed the soldier fetish went deep, and Dan
was determined to find out what that entailed. How well would
they obey an order?
They
went onto their way, saying very little, with an awkward silence
hanging between Martin and Gordon, while Dan just grinned
and walked close to Vadim. Suited them well, the lack of attempts
at conversation. Stopping over at an off-license a couple
streets further down, they stocked up on booze, then went
on until they entered one of the typical Glasgow streets with
impressive turn-of-the-century buildings, boasting high-ceilinged
tenements and granite fronts. Stopping on the steps in front
of the entrance, while Martin fumbled with the keys.
"Been
living together long?"
"A
couple years", said Gordon. "Martin moved in when
he came back from the States."
"Does
that mean I'm getting to fuck another Yank? My last one was
a jarhead." Dan grinned.
"Uh,
no, he'd just been working there for a while", Gordon
said, when Martin still didn't manage to get anything out.
Up the
steep stairs, finally, with worn steps that betrayed age.
The first floor flat |