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The following work of fiction contains graphic homosexual interaction, violence and non-consensual sex. With this work of fiction the authors do not condone in any way any form of intolerance and injustice, e.g. racism, sexual harassment, incitement of hatred, religious hatred nor persecution, xenophobia and misogyny. Neither do the authors through this work of fiction promote violence nor make light of such grave matters as genocide, any taking of human life, murder, execution, rape, torture, persecution of sexual orientation.

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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