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May
1992, Berlin, Germany
Hooch was still asleep when the sun streamed through the open
windows. The weather had done a turn for the better, and was
now doing its best to lure Berlin's population out of their
houses, but Hooch lay entangled in the duvet, on his back,
one arm thrown across his face and over his eyes.
Vadim
decided he'd let him deal with his jet lag, got out of the
bed and first set up coffee, which started to gurgle when
he had a shave. Going for a shower and then getting into his
jogging kit. He peered over to the bed to check whether the
American was stirring, but there was no movement.
He was
about to walk back out, when Hooch drawled, "thought
you promised coffee."
"I
did." Vadim turned back and headed into the kitchen,
pouring Hooch a mug of black coffee, to set it down on the
nightstand. "I was planning to go jogging and pick up
some Broetchen and Aufschnitt ... that's typical
'buns' here, but they are quite different from anything you've
ever eaten."
"Thanks."
Hooch had pulled himself up to sit when Vadim came back. Closing
his hand around the mug and sipping the hot brew. His short
dark hair was sticking up in all directions, which - in addition
to the tired face and half-grin - made him look everything
but fierce. Everything but a killer. If only there wasn't
the hint of tension in his body, which never left him. "Been
to Germany, but never out of camp." He looked at Vadim
over the rim of his cup, then leaned back.
"I
had the total immersion experience." Vadim grinned. "I'll
be back with breakfast."
"Enjoy
your run."
"Enjoy
the coffee." Vadim headed out of the door, finding a
route that took him through some public park and on the way
back past the bakery and the butcher's. Ordering the goods
in German, and exchanging minor chit-chat - yes, he was on
holiday, just for a week, maybe two, yes, he liked Germany.
He fell into an easy trot on the way back and unlocked the
door again, finding Hooch on the floor of the living room,
doing push-ups, naked. From the sheen of sweat on his body,
he had been at it for a while.
He watched
the muscles' movements, the breaths, enjoying the view which
inspired him. He'd have loved to get back to bed right now,
sweaty himself, Hooch sweaty and pumped up. Nice thought.
He'd keep it.
Vadim
dropped the goods off in the kitchen, had another quick shower,
and came back out in faded jeans and a t-shirt, ready to set
up breakfast, when Hooch met him in the hallway. "Place
got a washing machine?"
"Drop
the stuff in the basket in the bathroom, I'll see if I can
find the instruction booklet later." Vadim's eyes trailed
to Hooch's chiselled front, the tanned, broad shoulders. The
fact that this man was a killing machine. It pressed all the
right buttons. "They have some nice kinds of ham here",
he murmured, trying to focus on breakfast, but Hooch didn't
seem to listen, instead regarding him with the customary half-grin.
Even if the grin wasn't that obvious, the growing interest
down below was telling, and Vadim's throat tightened, one
appetite warring against the other.
"Make
me keep the thought." Hooch turned, presenting his bare
backside as he walked away and into the bathroom, and as before,
kept the door ajar.
Anticipation
is half the fun, Vadim thought. "Pretty sure I can keep
you entertained." Grinning, he headed into the kitchen
and prepared breakfast. Whether that would lead Hooch to rate
him higher for housewife skills than Matt was anybody's guess,
but the alternative, a housekeeper, would have prevented views
like a naked Hooch doing push-ups. He cooked eggs, laid out
various kinds of ham, and placed the buns in a little basket
he'd found, all that with coffee and orange juice.
"Jesus
fucking H Christ." Hooch's voice was heard from the doorframe.
Leaning against it in black jeans and a grey t-shirt, feet
still bare. "Marry me?" The grin in his freshly
shaved face was a rare, full-blown one.
Vadim
laughed. "You really aren't used to getting decent food,
hm? Tuck in." He still couldn't help the grin. "First
thing an athlete learns is what to eat and what not to eat.
This stuff is high on salt, but a good shot at protein. Orange
juice and coffee accelerate each other, as vitamin C and caffeine
have a synergistic effect." He waved his hand. "I
might give you the full English breakfast tomorrow, maybe.
That's a sure recipe for a coronary."
Hooch
laughed, a short, dry sound, as he sat down. "I know,
but ain't practicable. Live on whatever shit's available."
He cocked a brow, "should learn cooking. Would up my
market price." Reaching for a crispy roll, he buttered
it well and put a selection of meats and cheeses on top. Liking
his sandwiches with an eclectic mix of simultaneous tastes.
"Depends
on what market you're talking about. I'd rate you pretty highly,
but then, I go for your type." He stuck to the dry-cured
ham, relishing the taste and quality of the meat. "I
guess we could rent a car. Should make it easier to go to
Berlin, even though the trains are good and cheap. I've seen
a number of shops that could fit the bill. We'll just have
to browse a bit. And maybe drop in at Frau Klein's for pancakes.
German-style pancakes."
"Sounds
good. Give me food and I'm yours." The peeks of humour
that came to the surface were rare, and despite the level
of tension that never left him, Hooch was more relaxed than
Vadim had ever seen him. Matt had to have a knack for touching
Hooch where little else did. "Kebabs …" biting
into another bun, talking around a mouthful, "without
flies feasting on the meat before." He washed it all
down with coffee, on the third mug by now. "Know of any
surplus stores?" Looking straight at Vadim, from one
second to another the intensity in his eyes had cranked up.
Vadim
paused, then smiled slowly. Surplus stores? Military kit,
then. Oh, that would be interesting. "I'm sure people
know. What will it be for you?" Hooch decked out in his
US camo? And what about himself? He had an idea where this
was going, and he didn't mind.
"My
kit's not important." Finishing off the last of his coffee,
tension crept visibly up Hooch's spine, but it wasn't the
bad kind. "You were an Officer. Right?"
"I
was. Made it to Major, towards the end. I ran a lot of our
operations in Kabul. Liaison, training the Afghans to fend
for themselves, interrogation." The last word was smooth
in his mouth. "I didn't interrogate, I organized it.
Collated the data. Wrote reports." Vadim looked at Hooch.
"Peaked cap, bulled boots, greatcoat? Or rather spetsnaz
look, out in the fields?"
A slow
grin crept onto Hooch's face. Twisting the mug on the table,
it never span out of control. "Ever taken prisoners?"
"Yes."
Vadim smiled, and wasn't it funny, really, that, in these
circumstances, it aroused him. Like it aroused Hooch, who
knew what it meant that he'd been a Russian officer. The bogeyman
himself. If it got Hooch off, if it relaxed him, there was
no harm done. It was risky, somehow. It meant remembering
the other man, the one that had been destroyed. But maybe
it would actually be good to do that.
"Let's
go shopping." Hooch let the mug spin out of his hand
and it came to a stop right at the edge of the table. He stood
up, lingered at the table, half aware of domestic chores that
so very little fitted into his world. Plates. Cutlery. Food.
Fridge. Washing up. "Just one thing."
"Yes?"
"I
can take a lot." Dark eyes intense, "and I don't
do safe words."
"I'll
know when you break", said Vadim, it just slipped out,
even though part of him was shocked. Breaking? This had been
about sex, now it was about torture. Fuck. Then why was his
body so very much and unmistakably interested? Would he really
find the moment when Hooch started to come apart? Keep on
the safe side? Hooch wanted him to cross that line. Could
he? Vadim inhaled deeply. Madness.
The intensity
grew in Hooch's eyes, until they were burning with something
indecipherable. He nodded. "Yeah." He severed the
contact and turned away, leaving chores, kitchen and Vadim
behind.
Vadim
only then could breathe again. Just to sort his thoughts,
he cleared away the table, placed everything in the dishwasher,
found the instructions and started the machine. Every now
and then pausing as images flashed across his mind, searing
him with that force. With a sudden, stomach-twisting need.
Hooch just cranked up the intensity. Every time. He wanted
nothing more than head right back to bed, for a quick, savage
fuck.
Hooch,
though, reappeared in the doorway, dressed in stylish hiking
boots, designed for 'urban wear' rather than hiking, and a
black leather jacket thrown over his t-shirt. "Should
have helped." Offering a half-cocked grin. "I'm
lousy."
"I
don't feel my masculinity threatened, that's okay." It
was more Vadim's sanity that was threatened, seeing Hooch
in broad daylight, like that. Fuck. The grin, the ease, and
the way he kept striking sparks off him, with everything he
did. He brushed past Hooch, to head over to get shoes and
his own jacket, slightly more elegant, but still outdoor type
clothes.
"Cab?"
Hooch asked.
"Yeah.
We just walk down the road and get one. There's a taxi rank
next to the bakery." Vadim checked he had his keys, wallet,
then left the bungalow, locked the door behind them. Taxi,
main station, train. He had to force himself to pay attention
to the outside world. Hooch had a way to distract him, and
the images in his mind's eye did nothing to help him. Neither
the lazy grace with which Hooch sat opposite him on the train,
one foot on the heater grill, the other leg stretched out,
like he was presenting the goods. Teasing was clearly a word
in his vocabulary, even though he didn't appear to be conscious
of it.
Off at
the main station just a little later, they walked the streets,
and Vadim had intended to show Hooch some of the sights, but
wasn't sure whether they shouldn't just locate the goods,
pay for them and head back as soon as possible. It became
clearer when Hooch stopped at some of the sights they passed,
asking occasional questions, showing an interest in the tour,
which had no particular touristy character, but happened to
pass several sights anyway.
Near
the Brandenburg gate, they found somebody selling a ragtag
collection of various military bits and pieces, some hearkening
back to the Second World War. Much of it was recent, a lot
of Eastern Germany army stuff, some Russian stuff. The seller
wasn't German or Russian, but he had a friend who sold 'complete
sets', he assured them. Getting the address scribbled on a
piece of paper, Vadim suggested to go by taxi, but Hooch stopped
him with that customary half-grin.
"You
know where to get curry sausages?"
"Not
here ... too central. Tends to be small, dingy places."
Vadim looked around, trying to figure out the best way to
find one, couldn't remember if they'd passed any of them on
their little tour through the very centre. A small detour
brought them finally to an "Imbiss", where somebody,
who again didn't look German at all, served "Currywurst"
and "Pommes", and even though there was likely absolutely
nothing healthy in that food, it was great stuff.
Hooch
enjoyed his portion so much, he got a second one, this time
with extra curry powder. He usually ate with the same intensity
with which he did anything, as if the food or drink could
be the last one.
They
got a taxi and found the shop easily. It smelt somewhat musky,
but had, indeed, the full set. Vadim spotted the Russian camo
and coats right away, and made his way there, while Hoch lingered
along the shelves of bits and pieces of kit. Occasionally
pulling something out and studying it, until he got to the
shop keeper. "You speak English?"
The shop
keeper nodded. "Yes, of course. Are you American?"
Hooch
raised a brow, perfectly aware that his accent would label
him unmistakably. "You got handcuffs?"
The shop
keeper nodded, waving Hooch towards a shelf with various different
kinds, ranging from the cheap ones that were by far the most
common, to proper police type restraints that were connected
with a joint, not a chain.
Hooch
picked up the police ones, weighing them and checking them
over. He didn't even glance at the cheap ones. He picked up
two sets, placed them onto the counter. "Will be looking
for more." Vanishing once again into the maze of shelves
and baskets. He finally found what he'd been looking for in
a corner, next to the uniforms. Picking out several lengths
of rope, made from manmade fibre. Peering through the stacks
of uniforms, looking for Vadim. "Found something?"
Vadim
stood in front of a tall mirror and adjusted the greatcoat
about his shoulders, frowning in thought. "I lost some
bulk", he murmured darkly. "This size used to fit
properly." He reached for the cap and put it on, tipping
it at the correct angle.
"How
old were you when it fit?" Hooch's voice appeared in
Vadim's back, dark eyes were watching him through the mirror
with something that was clearly appreciation and ... hunger.
"Thirty.
Even mid-thirties." Vadim smiled, making eye contact
in the mirror.
"You
only keep bulk after forty if you take supplements."
"Supplements?
You mean, steroid shots?" Vadim grinned. "I used
to do that. I was seriously into 'body-building'", saying
that with a fake Russian accent, then regarding himself critically
in the mirror. "The next size down is too small, though."
"You're
lucky your balls haven't shrivelled to a prune." Hooch
flashed a brief grin. "Met a few of those on the prowl.
Muscles, strength, and no stamina." He raised a brow,
"posers."
Vadim
laughed. "I just wanted bulk for wrestling, and to look
as imposing as I could. And, yeah, I was bored in Afghanistan,
between missions. And before we went there. Tajikistan."
He glanced at a display case that held many of the old medals
and Christmas tree trimmings, as he'd thought of them, likely
to be had for a pittance. Including the veteran star for those
that had served in Afghanistan. Another one he didn't have
anymore, and would never wear again. He selected merely those
that displayed the rank. Major. Not Captain. That was for
Hooch's sake, the higher the better, he thought. "I take
the lot", he said to the shop keeper. Not haggling. It
wouldn't break the bank.
Vadim
got changed again, could still smell the uniform on him as
he slipped back into his clothes, then got out the wallet
and paid.
Hooch
paid for the cuffs with Deutschmark, pushing the items into
Vadim's line of view, together with the ropes, and waited,
leaning against the counter, while the shop keeper put everything
into an assortment of recycled carrier bags.
Cuffs,
ropes, and a Soviet uniform. If the shop keeper knew what
they were planning, he didn't move a muscle in his face, industriously
making money and not caring about anything else. In any case,
Vadim was glad when they were outside.
"You
want to shop for more?" Hooch fished for his cigarettes.
He didn't smoke often, a fraction of Dan's habit.
"I
think I'm set. Unless you want some 'toys'." Vadim shrugged.
"Stuff like ... dildos. And, well. I forgot the lube.
That means, I have some, but we might want more." He
felt unreal, standing outside the shop, discussing dildos.
With a former enemy. A Delta with the need to get punished.
And as aroused as he was.
Hooch's
eyes flashed at the same time as the flame touched his cigarette.
"I'm game. Where?"
"Just
follow me." Vadim headed back to the main station, where
several sex shops had signs out, and it was strange to enter
one and enter it with Hooch, but on the other hand, he really
wanted lube and all the other stuff. Suddenly facing shelves
upon shelves with porn, weird gimmicks, and a whole range
of dildos and vibrators. A woman behind the counter, looking
like any other shop assistant.
When
Vadim turned, he saw Hooch for the first time rattled. Looking
around the shop that seemed no different to any clothes shop,
just that it sold a more interesting variety of goods. "Germans
are weird." Hooch muttered, then caught himself the next
second and steered towards a shelf with dildos. So many to
choose from, he meticulously walked along to look at each
of them.
Vadim
kept his gaze away from the shopkeeper and stayed close to
Hooch. Which, he suddenly realised, gave away what their relations
with each other were. Two gay guys looking at toys together.
Oh fuck. He blinked for a moment, then forced himself to breathe.
"I prefer meat", he murmured into Hooch's ear, but
remembered the guy in Glasgow and how spaced out he'd been.
Nothing else short of an arm could have done that.
"Yeah."
Hooch turned, a dildo in each hand, two different sizes. One
more realistic, the other … a challenge. "Meat doesn't
come in all sizes."
"True."
Vadim peered at the bigger one and shuddered briefly. Dan
could fit in a fist, but he was somewhat squeamish about that
thought. "Well, and it's not something you can keep in
a military bergan, I guess." Vadim laughed softly, embarrassed
to the bone, but also still horny.
"Shit,
no. You can keep the stuff. Feel free to use it." The
quirk of Hooch's lips left no question what he meant and the
raising of a brow told Vadim that Hooch wasn't convinced it
wouldn't get used on Vadim himself.
"Thanks."
Vadim grinned. "Well, pick with whatever you're 'comfortable'
with." Only realizing the pun when he'd said it.
"No
clue." Hooch shrugged, "whatever hurts like fuck
and doesn't cause lasting injuries."
Hurts
like fuck. Vadim paused again, feeling another surge of
dark lust inside, and was sure his face and eyes betrayed
that. Causing him to head over to the lube, checking out several
different kinds of brands, which took him forever in his state.
Finally going with stuff that was compatible with just about
everything and didn't leave marks, according to the bottle.
Nothing fragranced or flavoured either, just the plain stuff.
The condoms were a bit more of a challenge, mostly because
there were so many different kinds. Looking over at Hooch,
who had found a shopping basket and had filled it with the
dildos and a gag. Nothing else caught his interest. Like military
kit and clothes, everything had to be functional. Perhaps
even people.
"You
want to use them?" Hooch gestured to the condoms.
Vadim
shrugged. "I ... I should be clean." Taking a risk
with Hooch, but he wanted all of the man, every scrap of feeling.
The things they'd be playing with, and then the safety measure
of latex. It jarred in his mind.
"I'm
clean. Get myself tested every time." Leaving it between
them what he meant. "Not going to infect anyone because
I couldn't stop it."
Vadim
nodded, stepping away from the condoms. "Okay."
Couldn't stop it. Why did every word echo and go straight
to his balls? "Right, we're done then? We probably can
still catch the next train out." Looking at his watch.
"Easily. Next one leaves in fifteen."
Hooch
nodded and took the lube out of Vadim's hand, adding it to
his basket. He stopped a few steps further down the aisle,
paused for a mere second before picking up an enema kit. The
sales lady was completely business-like, and spoke heavily
accented English.
They
were soon back in the station, catching their train with several
minutes to spare. Hooch slouched in his seat, the same way
as he had done on the way into the centre, the assortment
of bags in the rack above them. "Food?"
"Yeah.
I got some steak from the butchers. Add some sour cream and
baked potatoes and we're set." Vadim grinned. "Yes,
I plan ahead for food, if only the next two or three meals."
"Shit.
Really got to marry you." Hooch moved his head back,
chuckling, uncaring of a few glances from fellow passengers.
He was anonymous, in another country, on R&R, and the
military be damned if he gave a shit about anything right
now.
"No
need. I won't get pregnant, and I'm as thoroughly dishonoured
as one can possibly be." Ouch. That stung. He hadn't
meant to say that. It had been a joke about dishonoured maidens,
but had turned to a big chunk of truth.
"What?"
Hooch leaned forward.
"I
mean, in a ... you know. Sexual way." Never mind social,
military, national. Vadim briefly closed his eyes. He couldn't
make this a joke again, it had rattled him too much. The complete
wrong thing to say. Or think. Both. "Maybe I'll tell
you the story one day. Let's say I have a British passport
because Russia denies my existence." Pausing for a moment,
looking at Hooch. "Let's be friends and comrades, instead?"
Hooch
was close, looking at Vadim, and the understanding of something
that could not be said was there, and no more questions followed.
"Yeah. Easy." He settled back in his seat, looking
out of the window.
"Thanks",
murmured Vadim, meaning it. It didn't take long and the main
station was announced, with time enough for them to gather
their bags and head out. Vadim hailed a taxi back to the bungalow,
opened the door and allowed Hooch to step in. "I'll fix
the steaks and check whether I find the instructions for the
washing machine", he said, dropping the bags in the bedroom.
"Want
me to help?" The way Hooch stood, still in his leather
jacket, a hand in the back pocket of his black jeans, he didn't
mean household chores.
Vadim
swallowed. The man had a way of throwing him all the time.
"Such as?" Lifting an eyebrow, gaze travelling down
the body, and his own body wanted to shift the pressure of
the constant arousal through much of the day. A blowjob? Or
getting ready for the 'game', only that it wasn't a game.
Hooch
shrugged, then flashed a grin, but didn't answer. "I'll
be exercising, alright? Too much shopping." Turning away,
back into the hallway.
Vadim
exhaled again. Fuck. And he'd get to watch it, of course.
He gathered up what little dirty laundry they had by now and
stuffed it into the washing machine, then found the booklet
on a shelf above the machine - these tidy Germans - and started
it.
Hooch
reappeared shortly after, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
Positioning himself in the middle of the hallway, he used
the free space - easily viewed from the kitchen - for a routine
of isometric exercises, combined with push ups, triceps dips,
squats and back to the push ups. Two-handed, one handed, and
a variation of both, with arms in different positions.
Despite
watching him transfixed for long moments, Vadim managed to
return to the kitchen, where he began to make food, only interrupted
by glances at Hooch's body. That didn't take down the arousal,
but he managed to boil the potatoes, fix the salad, and the
steaks were still bloody enough to writhe with pain when he
stabbed them. "I assume you like them bloody?"
Hooch
looked up, a fine sheen of sweat on his chest when he pulled
his legs under him into a squat, balancing on his heels with
his arms folded across his knees. "What, like, makes
you think so?" Half-grinning.
"Let
me see. These are fresh, no flies around, while I assume you
boil and cook and grill everything to death wherever you are,
just to make sure you don't die of food poisoning. Raw meat,
however, tastes very different, and I think the animalistic
thing could appeal to you, as well as the fact that it's a
novelty when you're used to the boiled to a pulp fare."
Hooch's
grin grew, getting up from the position with ease and an odd
grace. "I'm from the South, man, that's all you need
to know about me and bloody steaks."
Vadim
grinned, crossed his arms in front of his chest, then dropped
one hand and adjusted himself, very deliberately. "Are
you keeping the thought, too?"
Hooch
walked closer, positioned himself in front of Vadim, arms
crossed as well, mirroring his stance. "Haven't had any
other thought all day."
"Same
here." Vadim wanted to touch him, badly, but that wasn't
what Hooch wanted. And he shouldn't assume just because Dan
liked touches and kisses and cuddles, that the same held true
for this guy. The very fact they had fallen asleep and woken
up apart showed the difference, even though they were very
at ease with each other, with just the fact that Hooch often
surprised him. "Whatever happens ..." but the sentence
didn't make any sense. Hooch didn't need a 'trust me', and
wouldn't follow a 'talk to me', and they weren't in love,
either. Hooch wanted that other man, the one he had
been. Maybe Hooch, right now, only saw that in him, a person
guarding something that he wanted. Violence. Pain. The potential
of death. "Strange. It's easier when they don't want
it", Vadim murmured. "Let's eat. The steaks should
be relaxed now."
Hooch
reached out, "friends and comrades, buddy?" Quietly,
his eyes showing a rare warmth when he smiled.
Vadim
took the hand and pressed it. "You keep ... surprising
me", he murmured. "Let's have that food. I think
we rather need it before the night's up." Holding Hooch's
right hand with his, then reaching to touch his groin with
the palm of his other hand, pressing against the package.
"Or I'll eat you, eh?"
"No,
that'll be my job." Hooch grinned and squeezed Vadim's
hand before letting go. He brushed past him, deliberately
close, and got to the table. Still in nothing but the shorts
and not giving a damn. "Looks damn fine. Should reciprocate,
but haven't got my own place and can't cook."
"Well,
pay a nice restaurant, then."
"Where
would we fuck?" Hooch's lips quirked. "On base?"
"Wherever.
But ideally at least in some kind of safe house."
The food
was fairly soon demolished, the steaks on the raw side of
'just right'. Good quality stuff though, like most food Vadim
had had in Germany so far, minus the stuff from the fast-food
place, which had still tasted really good. "What about",
Vadim ventured, seeing that it got dark outside, "you
clean up and have a long shower?"
"You
got liquor?"
"Vodka."
Vadim pointed at the fridge. "It's in the freezer."
"Thanks."
Hooch raided the freezer and found a couple of glasses, pouring
both full to the brim. He emptied his own, pushing the other
towards Vadim with a half-grin, then poured a second one,
equally full, and took it with him into the shower after a
stop-over at one of the bags, pulling the kit out. "Will
be a while."
Vadim
cleared away the stuff again, then checked on the purchases.
Things would have to go fairly fast to work out. He just couldn't
imagine a cold start. It had to be intense from the beginning,
or he probably wouldn't have the guts to do it ... not the
way Hooch wanted.
Hooch
kept the door almost shut, but not completely. The sound of
the loo flushing was heard several times before the shower
ran for a long while. At the same time, Vadim worked frantically,
getting into the stuff as fast as he could, easily beating
his own chemical warfare suit times.
He took
a length of rope, knowing it would bruise, but was less dangerous
than any cable, and then, knowing the layout of the bathroom,
he opened the door a bit more. Moving carefully, counting
on Hooch having soap in his eyes or maybe being somewhat deafened
by the water running into his ears - or something. Something
like him wanting not to notice.
He crossed
the distance quickly, shoved aside the shower curtain in the
same movement as he brought the rope to bear. Slipping it
around Hooch's throat, who only managed to turn a fraction,
fingers scrabbling for the rope. Vadim tightened it in an
instant, and almost lifting Hooch out of the bathtub with
sheer force, making him stumble, and using that to wrestle
him to the ground. All done in deadly silence except for Hooch's
struggling breaths that seemed deafening in the room, as he
fought against Vadim with all his strength, no holds barred.
This was no game.
Vadim
managed to get on top, but it was a ride, the Delta fighting
tooth and nail, and Vadim did not doubt for a moment that
Hooch used everything he had - and would continue to use it.
Shit. He should have brought a gun. Or a second man, he thought,
with a chilling echo of that night in Kabul. And even more
chilling was how fucking hard it made him. He kept the rope
taut, knowing it was dangerous, but counted, counted the seconds
as he restricted the big artery. Cutting off oxygen to the
brain, counting because Hooch had to pass out, and at the
same time, if he kept going for too long, Hooch would wake
up with brain damage, or not wake up at all.
Hooch's
face turned red, mouth open, desperate sounds, movements growing
uncoordinated. Flailing, still fighting, body bucking up,
but in the height of that movement he suddenly crashed, eyes
rolling back, hands falling off Vadim, as his head slumped
to the side. Passed out cold.
"Sweet
dreams", Vadim murmured, releasing the makeshift garrotte
immediately. Checking on the bruise, which, he assumed, Hooch
would be able to explain somehow. Horsing around, maybe. Didn't
matter. He gathered up the body, lifted it with some effort,
and put it into a fireman's lift. Heading out towards the
bedroom, he dropped Hooch on the bed, took his hands and locked
them in the handcuffs behind his back, then placed him down
onto the floor to tie his legs with a length of rope. Enough
to walk, not enough to run or kick. He checked his vitals
again, not doubting that Hooch would come round in a little.
Then touching the body - stroking and caressing the muscles,
the damp skin, the cock he wanted, part of him wanted to be
repaid in kind. Stroking the cock, he wanted to suck it, but
that wouldn't be part of the role. Sucking a prisoner? Wouldn't
happen.
Hooch
drew in a painful sounding breath, and jerked awake the next
moment. Eyes opening wide, disoriented for a split second,
before he got his bearings and Vadim could see how his mind
worked, how he mentally checked himself. Muscles twitching,
testing the cuffs, and dark eyes flickering into every corner,
checking his position and that of the enemy. The tiniest indication
of tension, before he threw himself onto his back, knees together,
coming up the same instance, flying towards Vadim's face.
Vadim
managed to begin a turn, the kick hit him in the shoulder,
painful as Hooch's whole body was behind it, and it sent him
a good yard away. The fun had just begun, and he managed to
get to his feet and out of range, at least for a moment. His
shoulder hurt bad, and he moved around the man, regarding
him, expecting another assault. Too bad he didn't have a gun,
or even Vanya with him. Only to threaten. And to control.
Staring down at Hooch. American. Prisoner. Prisoner did it.
Naked. His. He reached behind himself and took the knife he'd
found in the kitchen for that purpose, and showed it to Hooch.
"Are you done with the thrashing?"
Hooch
said nothing, glaring up at Vadim, rage in his dark eyes.
Rage and so much goddamned hunger, this really was only the
beginning. No word, no movement, the near-perfect deceit,
until he suddenly tensed again, hands fists in his back, pushing
himself up and backwards, aiming to kick Vadim's face. Vadim
dodged this again, faster this time, and the moment Hooch's
body touched the ground again, he kicked him. The boot making
a dull, thudding noise as it hit flesh. First into Hooch's
back, the next kick into his side, and while Hooch didn't
scream, he had to use all his control to keep silent. Breathing
noisily, frantically irregular, his body tried to curl into
itself, to protect the vital organs.
Vadim
knew well what that felt like. He'd been pissing a lot of
blood from all the hits and kicks into the kidneys. He reached
down, grabbing Hooch by the throat, forcing him up and then
backhanded him several times, hard, making his head fly left
and right, snarling at him.
The moment
Vadim stopped, Hooch spit a mouthful of blood at him. The
rage had intensified. Fuelled by pain and anger that fed the
hunger, while hunger and greed fuelled the rage in return.
He was on his knees, fighting the pain, but fighting the man
had only been paused. Not stopped.
"Are
you. Done yet?" Vadim shouted at him, eyes blazing, he
did feel the anger, got into the scene. The bungalow just
bled away and everything blurred.
"No!"
Hooch forced out. Spitting blood again.
It was
just him and Hooch, right here, right now. The intensity again
breathtaking. "You can have it the easy way or the hard
way." Adding: "Scum."
"Make.
Me!" Hooch snarled. Teeth stained red.
Vadim
bared his teeth, again hitting Hooch, but now punching him
straight in the face, then releasing him. Hooch hit the floor,
where he lay dazed for a moment, taken out by the blinding
pain behind his eyes. "There is no reason for you to
resist ... we already know everything. We even got your team
members to confirm it. All you have to do is tell us the story
of your infiltration, and you will live."
"Fuck
you." Hooch shook. Snorting to stop the blood run down
the back of his throat. Staining the floor instead. "No
chance." The stare of defiance was burning bright in
his dark eyes. "I'm fucking Delta!"
"Ah.
And your team members aren't?" Vadim raised an eyebrow,
mocking him. "You are here in breach of international
laws. You have entered our territory. The border police might
have shot you in error, you know ...?"
"Liar."
Hooch turned his head, wiping blood onto his shoulder, trying
to breathe properly, but his nose hurt like fuck and was swelling
up.
"That
may well be or not be." Vadim smiled, maliciously. "Nobody
will ask questions where you are, because you're not officially
here. You are at my mercy."
Something
flickered in Hooch's eyes, and then his lips pulled into a
mocking grin. "Am on my own."
"Deltas
operate in small teams. You Americans are herd animals. Nothing
more. And you are not the leader of the pack." Picking
up the knife again. "What's your name?"
"Fuck
you."
"How
eloquent." Vadim placed the knife against Hooch's throat,
staring into his eyes, then, with the other hand, removed
the cap. "But I may well fuck you. And then call the
guards to fuck you, too." Smiling again. "What now,
bitch? Any more niceties?"
Hooch's
breath quickened, in pace with his heartbeat that was hammering
against his chest. He knelt still, very still with that blade
against his throat, but his cock was hardening. Despite everything
or probably because of it. "Won't tell you." Lips
hardly moving.
Vadim's
eyes trailed down to the cock and he wanted Hooch so much
in that very same moment. Needed to stay in control. Looking
into Hooch's eyes, the man wouldn't suck him. No way. He'd
bite. Likely accepting the consequences just to prove a point.
But getting sucked by this dangerous, defiant bastard was
a price, even though he had no idea how to claim it. He lowered
the knife, letting the blade whisper down to the chest, then,
gently, almost, cut into the skin, and Hooch twitched and
gave an involuntary hiss. Deep enough for it to bleed, watching
the red form a drop, and lingering, not falling, not running,
just beading. Vadim's lips were open, breath going a little
faster. "What is your name?"
Hooch
didn't answer. Had no answer, and he growled, anger rising
like a burning tide, spitting at Vadim.
Vadim
used the open hand again to hit Hooch, several times. Left,
right, six, eight times, until Hooch's head hung low, without
resistance. Too dazed to focus.
"Don't
forget it's you who's in my power. Not vice versa.
You were caught. Out cold. Fabulous soldiering, right there."
Stepping back again, Vadim was warm from the fight and the
hitting and he slipped out of the greatcoat, tossing it across
the bed. Arms crossed as he stood close to Hooch, but not
too close. "You will break, Delta. Even if I have to
kill you, you will break."
Hooch
forced his head back up, the bleeding had stopped despite
the recent hits. "No." His voice betrayed the pain,
but then it strengthened, hardened, when the rage came back
and his fists clenched in his back. "Can't."
"You
can't? I'll help you." Vadim felt coldness trickle down
his back.
I'll
help you. Just let go. Konstantinov.
He stepped
too close, confused by the sudden memory, Konstantinov had
been there, just like he was, now, but Konstantinov hadn't
been hard. No lust in it. Just power. But what strong, heady
stuff that power was.
Hooch
took the chance immediately, jumped up from his knees, onto
his heels, and propelled his whole body weight towards Vadim.
Vadim
snapped out of the thought immediately, cursed himself as
he lost balance and fell, crashing down, managing while falling
to kick and make sure that Hooch didn't get on top when the
kick hit the neck. Quickly getting back onto his feet, while
Hooch remained on his side for a moment, coughing. Vadim's
heart pounded, moving back to prevent a follow-on attack.
"Bastard. We've played enough."
He took
the rope again, slid it over Hooch's head before he could
try and defend himself. There was very little Hooch could
do, and with that angle, Vadim wrestled him to the ground,
knee in his back, forcing him down with strength that was
part anger, part shock, part lust. He used the rope to tie
the legs and the arms together, connecting the cuffs and the
rope between Hooch's legs, then, hog-tied, Hooch couldn't
move, he was held down, and all Hooch could do was try desperately
to contain the sounds of distress.
"You
are not cooperating. You had your chance."
Vadim
took the ball gag and placed the knife at Hooch's bloodied
lips. "Open, or I cut off your lips." Forcing it
through the teeth, then tying it in the back. "What now?
Any brave or clever ideas? Bitch?"
Frantically
breathing, nostrils flaring with every shallow breath, Hooch
glared at Vadim. His eyes, though, showed more than defiance
or anger. There was pain, even hatred, and undeniable lust.
Greed. Greed for more. Greed to let go. To be made to let
go. 'Make me'.
Vadim
stared at him, saw the challenge, and wanted it. At the same
time it was like Konstantinov was with him in the room, studying
his technique. Fuck, he thought. He could almost sense the
bastard, could almost hear his voice. Smell him. But it made
him only angry, right now. He took the rope around Hooch's
neck and connected that to his legs, pulling the head far
back into his neck, via the handcuffs. Forcing Hooch into
a painful position with all weight on his hips - and his cock
pressed into the ground.
He sat
down after he'd checked the knots, and looked at Hooch, every
now and then checking his watch. Allowing the tissue to swell,
allowing Hooch to feel the pain as the adrenaline burnt out,
body turning into a rigid, sweaty sculpture. And Hooch fought,
fought so hard to retain control of his body. If he let up,
he'd choke. His neck muscles standing out like steel ropes,
his whole body trembling with the effort.
Vadim
was watching him, unfazed, with no feeling, at least he hoped
so, then put on the cap that shadowed his eyes. He opened
the gag and pulled it from between Hooch's teeth, carefully
not to be bitten.
"What
now, American scum? I can leave you like this for a few days.
The cramps should be very enjoyable for somebody who so obviously
enjoys discomfort. As a friend once said", baring his
teeth fiercely, "it's a challenge to make a masochist
break, but I'm up for the task."
"Can't
…" each word forced out between clenched teeth,
but then Hooch's muscles gave in for a second and his head
snapped forward, rope cutting into the larynx and he jerked
himself back, the sound of distress purely animalistic. "Can't
… touch me."
"I
don't have to touch you. Yet. When I'm done with you ..."
Vadim paused, changing his tactics. "Tell me, would you
like to suck my cock? This makes you hard, point proven: you're
a masochist, and a degenerate at that. A homosexualist."
Hooch's
breath came hissing, laboured. His face a mess of drying blood
and darkening bruises, but the glare still had the same intensity.
"Just sex." Hardly able to stop a sound of pain
escaping. Almost a whimper. Almost.
"Is
it." Vadim met the gaze, measure for measure. If Hooch
truly believed that, he didn't see himself as gay. Despite
plenty of evidence to the contrary. Maybe the type that thought
that they weren't gay as long as they didn't 'take it'. But
Hooch did. He said he couldn't stop it, when he fell in with
the S/M crowd. Unless 'taking it' was nothing but part of
the punishment. Would he stay hard when he got fucked? Would
he come? And would he accept it, deep down, truly accept that
he was having sex with a man, and one that 'topped' him. Hooch
made it sound like sex didn't matter. Here, he was wrong.
Repeat sex could form a habit, a habit could become an addiction,
even a relationship, or a mind-saving, mind-destroying nexus
like with Dan. It could be the seed of a new person, the core,
the deep, deep core that couldn't be touched otherwise, unless
one was very skilled at removing layers and skin and scars.
And Hooch's hunger, to 'watch', that intensity, that just
proved him wrong. "You should think carefully about what
you choose when you have free choice", Vadim murmured
lowly. "How many women can fuck you up the ass? And isn't
that what you want? You couldn't help it? Bullshit! You got
yourself in a position where you knew what would happen. You're
Delta. Risk assessment should be developed better in you than
your average stupid grunt." Vadim leaned forward. "You
feed on it. You need it."
Hooch
growled, a sound that was everything but human. "Just
… sex … asshole!" Hardly comprehensible words,
the strain made it near impossible to speak.
"If
you repeat it often enough it may yet come true." Vadim
took the blindfold that he'd found. Stupid little thing was
given out in long-haul flight packs, and he'd kept it, just
in case the light woke him, but he could never bring himself
to wear it. Hated his eyes to be covered these days, and assumed
it was a soldierly reflex. Now, he needed to blur Hooch's
sense of time. And nothing did that like taking his sight.
He knelt down and slipped it over Hooch's eyes, made sure
it sat in the right place, then sat back on the chair, leaning
against it. Attentively watching, studying what he could see
from the face, the lips, the tension in the body. He needed
to make sure that Hooch didn't choke.
The strain
in Hooch's body grew in increments. Turning from rock hard
muscles to cramped steely ropes beneath the skin. Sweating
with the effort to remain in the stress position without choking
himself. Between the devil and the deep blue sea - with his
head far back in his neck the pain got so bad in the battered
muscles and joints, Hooch let out small sounds between the
sharp hissing breaths. Biting his lips to stay quiet, but
he couldn't stop those sounds of distress completely. It got
worse, much worse, after half an hour. So bad, his body was
wrecked with waves of pain, visibly shuddering through him.
Muscles trembling, he was fighting to keep his head at least
far enough back to be able to get in a little air. Rope digging
deeply into his throat, his lips were open, letting out rattling
breaths when another shudder ran through him. The tremor growing
to uncontrollable proportions when he kept hanging on. Kept
fighting. Longer, ever longer. Not giving in. Impossible to.
Could not, would not. But he didn't know for how long he fought,
forgot where he was, forgot why and how and if he was watched
or not. No sounds except for his own, and those became just
as uncontrollable as the wrecking convulsions.
Vadim
could have watched for an hour or two. The mental struggle
was likely as fierce as the physical one, but somebody fighting
so hard won his respect. Hooch had that, of course, it was
just a theoretical thought. Not that he'd got too deep into
the role. Not like the Major was actually rearing his head.
Exactly when the other man, the one he'd been, had died, he
couldn't remember. Maybe there was no moment, maybe it was
just a long, long process of coming up for air.
He shifted
his weight, knelt down beside Hooch. "This will stop
when you beg me to fuck you", he said, softly. "Simple."
Hooch
didn't answer. Just a sound that wanted to break through.
A desperate sound, when he forced his head to make tiny movements
… shaking 'no'.
Vadim
placed a hand on Hooch's cheek, the other was a fist just
in case the man would bite, and he rested his hand there,
against the sweaty, stubbly chin. There was this odd tenderness
again, and part of him wanted to free him and take him to
bed, but that was not what Hooch had requested.
Hooch
fought the touch - and lost the fight before it even started.
The sound that finally came out, from his very core, and the
desperate whimper was small, almost negligent.
Yet it
was the most weakness Vadim had ever witnessed, and just seeing
him like that, not struggling right now, soundly beaten and
knowing it, tightened Vadim's chest. He took the knife and
severed the piece of rope that kept Hooch's head up, which
fell to the ground, forehead hitting hard. Allowing him that
much relief, then tied the legs closer together, at the knees,
too, but severed the rope that kept arms and legs together,
taking most of the strain off. Vadim lifted him and placed
Hooch on the bed, face down, who finally got himself sufficiently
back together again to try and fight - but his overstrained
muscles simply wouldn't obey and the pain of changing the
position was unbearable.
Vadim
untied the legs to open them and tie them to the bed frame,
spread, then, carefully, ready to fight back if Hooch started
trouble, but the movements were uncoordinated and despite
the effort, Hooch's legs would not obey him. The muscles useless
with tremors and cramps after cramps. Vadim unchained the
wrists and raised them above Hooch's head, tying them to the
bed frame, which should make escaping impossible, whenever
Hooch regained control of his body again. But right now the
man was just breathing against the pain, while struggling
to suppress the sounds that wanted to come out. Again, forever
struggling. The need for control.
Vadim
watched him for a bit, wanting to wipe the sweat off, but
he knew that he had to wait for the pain to subside. Eventually
the signs became obvious, when Hooch pulled in a few deeper
breaths and the tremors in arms and legs subsided. "The
more muscles you have, the worse the cramps", Vadim observed.
"At least that's what I heard." He ran his fingers
through his hair, having taken the cap off. Seeing the naked,
defenceless man on the bed raised two emotions. One was wanting
to protect him - the other was to fuck him so hard that he
screamed. Vadim swallowed, shuddering himself now. He kept
his eyes on Hooch, allowed the thought to not only creep up,
but fully manifest, until it was the dominant, only thought
in his mind. Fuck this man. Screaming. Bleeding. Fighting.
Hating. This is what I am, Vadim thought. I've been this,
and I am that same thing, still. And I'll ever be this. I'll
always be capable of rape. He studied the thought, examined
it, repelled like he had received a bullet and he was examining
the wound. Splintered bone, pieces of metal. Blood and puss.
Clinical. This wasn't a game, not like with Dan. This was
the real thing, even though he knew it wasn't real, it still
was. He fed it from the genuine, pure source of darkness.
He headed
over to where he'd dropped the purchases. The dildo. And the
lube. If he fucked Hooch now, he would rape him. Hooch might
not be able to tell the difference, or he might, but it wouldn't
be good - too much poison. He didn't even want to force himself
in and so much as remember he'd very nearly killed Dan after
he'd been finished with him. How many had killed themselves
after this? Deserved or innocent. Feeding that hunger was
… not wrong. It would destroy something. He shuddered
with the effort, he wanted Hooch, wanted to have him, and
he could feel Hooch expected it on some level. That was why
Hooch had got himself into this position. He lubed the dildo
up, it was the smaller one, then pulled Hooch's ass cheeks
apart, whose breath quickened, muscular buttocks tightening,
to dribble in more lube. The silicone cock was cool and firm
and smooth, hard enough to just push through, and Vadim positioned
it, his own guts tight, cock impossibly hard as he began to
push in.
Hooch's
head flew up, craned far back into his neck, despite or because
of the over-strained neck, and he let out a sound, hissed
through clenched teeth, which was all too terrifyingly close
to "yes!"
It made
Vadim shudder. If this had been rape, Hooch would have wanted
it. Fuck. He pushed the dildo deeper, felt the body's resistance,
knew what it would feel like if that had been his flesh. Gripped
the thing harder and began to fuck Hooch in long, powerful
strokes, deeply and with a lot of force, finding the angle
that he liked, and kept going. Alternating between deep and
shallow strokes, with far more patience than he would have
had, normally. He could do this all night, and maybe he would.
To fight that other desire.
Hooch
had no leverage, couldn't rub his cock against anything; no
freedom to thrust into the mattress. Once again fighting,
this time for release, his body dripping with sweat. Thrashing
within the bonds, back muscles bunching, rolling, shoulders
standing out starkly on the shimmering, glistening, sweat-drenched
skin. Growling, head thrashing from side to side, trying to
push back towards the dildo, needing just that much more.
More pain, more speed, more of everything, and most of all
more of being used. The words that became audible, amidst
the desperate breathing, thrusting, tearing and fighting,
were again and again, a growled, breathless: "Make me.
Make me."
Vadim
slid a hand under Hooch's body and took hold of his cock,
thick and pulsing. He knew Hooch was close, maybe couldn't
come - just like he couldn't himself from getting fucked alone.
"No demands", he murmured. "Beg me, you piece
of scum." Holding the cock tightly, not allowing Hooch
to push into his hand, as he kept thrusting in with the dildo,
deep, fast, brutal, a speed and strength that would have brought
him over the edge within a few minutes.
Sounds
intensifying; heat and pressure growing, more, unbearable.
The hand, just that touch, and the pain. The glorious, hated,
needed and spearing pain. Mind-blowing, and Hooch threw his
head back, whole body arching, tightening, rock hard sculpture
of muscle and sweat, when he came with almost a scream. Suppressed,
still, somewhere, despite the uncontrollable shudders and
the gruelling breaths.
Vadim
wanted to lick the sweat off him, but didn't. Instead, he
released Hooch's cock, wiped his hand on the duvet, and regarded
the shuddering mass of man. He wanted, wanted badly. He pulled
the shirt off, plus undershirt, baring his chest and back,
got rid of the shoes, the trousers. Skin on skin. He wanted
that, even above fucking him, wanted to feel the body. He
slid between Hooch's legs, used some more of that lube to
slick up his cock, and pushed inside, right away. Right after
Hooch's orgasm, but slowly, easing himself in, and Hooch tensed,
but except for a low groan and his hands clenching, there
was no reaction. Vadim wanted, desired, needed, but right
now, it wasn't about that. He lay down on top of Hooch, stretched
out, while entering him fully, allowing the other man to feel
most of his weight, his lips near the man's ear. "What
am I, Hooch? Tell me."
Words,
weight, body heat. Threatening. Reassuring. Neither. Just
… wanted. Hooch tried to speak, face half pressed into
the mattress, but it was hard to move his head, even harder
still to clear his throat, moisten his lips and find enough
spittle to try and answer a question he couldn't understand.
"M…" tried again, "man." The first
thing that came to his mind, and he clenched his buttocks,
just to feel the living flesh inside him.
Vadim
groaned at that, but he couldn't move. It would hurt badly.
"Yes", he said, breathlessly. "I'm … that.
I'm a man. And …" swallowed, forcing himself so
hard to stay right there without moving. "A comrade."
Soldier. It always came back to that. "I won't fuck you,
not … not right now." Vadim's hand ran over Hooch's
arm, caressing the muscle, the shoulder, the armpit, stroking
and exploring, anything to keep his mind from the tantalizing
heat and tightness. The smell of pain, misery, and need.
"Do
it." Hooch shuddered, no demand, just a fact. "Need
it." Need to feel. Need pain. Need … His fists clenched,
not releasing this time, and he couldn't help moving towards
the caress.
Vadim
wanted to. He wanted to, and Hooch demanded it, and what would
be wrong just doing it. What? He shuddered again. "Relax",
he said, very close to Hooch's ear. "Accept it. Enjoy
it. Feel it. Feel me. Feel … what I do." How else
could he say it. He wanted Hooch to be aware.
"Can't
see …" Hooch's face turned into a grimace, and he
shook his head, as much as he could.
Vadim
removed the blindfold and dropped it at the side, discarded,
and Hooch clenched again, trying to feel more of the burn,
the sensation of being filled.
"I
need you to … understand", Vadim murmured. "I
know you want the pain. I can give you pain." I want
to give you pain, said a small voice in him. I can. I can
destroy you if you want me to. I can do it even if you don't
want me to. "I need to … break through that wall
…" Vadim kissed his neck, suddenly, shifting even
though he didn't want to, far from a thrust, just a slight
movement. "I need to get … inside of you."
Hooch
groaned and shuddered, tried to intensify the movement, but
failed. Too securely bound. Turning his head until the swollen
eye was pressed into the mattress and he caught a glimpse
of Vadim. "What do you want?" Every word tickled,
his throat as dry as the Sahara. "There's nothing to
find."
"Bullshit.
Who are you, Hooch? And why does nobody know your real name,
the one you've been born with? Because you're hiding."
"No!"
No, why? And did it matter? Hooch's fingers scrabbled at the
rope, but he couldn't find leverage.
Vadim
shifted to allow Hooch a view of his face, making eye contact.
"You're doing this to feel, but all you feel is pain.
One day, that will backfire. Somebody could kill you, direct
or indirect." He shifted again, redistributing his weight.
"Do you feel alive now?"
"No."
The answer came too fast, too true, and the darkness in the
one visible eye intensified. Hooch shuddered, a deep resistance
beginning to yield. Losing, unless he had already lost, as
if that cock inside of him, and that body that crushed his
own, forced all the layers and lies away, everything he'd
never known, never thought about. Draining the puss from a
wound he'd never known existed.
Vadim
closed his eyes, knowing that it was the truth and that he'd
touched the darkness at the other man's core. Feeling the
shift in the other's body, the yielding, on such a primal
level that there was really no thought to describe it. That
quality of touch changed, he was now truly, deeply, inside,
and that place looked as desolate as his own space. "I
know", he murmured. Inhaling deeply, then, very carefully
moving, lifting some of his weight off Hooch, but staying
inside. Waiting, shielding, and feeling that deep, impossible
connection. He wanted him on his knees, now, which was impossible
to achieve without leaving him. Fuck. Ropes were impractical
for this, but he hadn't wanted to risk getting a double kick
in the face. He wasn't thirty anymore.
He left
Hooch to loosen the ropes that kept his legs taut, then returned,
not yet pushing inside again. "Lift up", he murmured,
prodding Hooch to get up on his knees, and began to stroke
the powerful body, kneading and touching, chest, thighs, to
the balls, rolling them in one hand. All with time, leisure,
tenderness, but still firmly. "You … are breathtaking,
Hooch. First American I ever respected." He gave a small
laugh and rubbed his cock against the powerful ass.
Hooch
eyes were closed, lips open, making small, involuntarily movements
towards the hands. As if he were only reacting. A body, nothing
else, allowing the mind to listen. "Just surviving."
Murmured, he shivered as if from cold, while the sweat on
his body cooled.
"Might
be a good day to start living", Vadim kept his voice
low, just between the two of them. Realising he was starting
a massage, he decided that was a good idea, actually, and
Hooch's body responded on its own when cramped muscles were
stroked. Vadim took some more of the tension out, banning
his own for the moment. This stuff was too important. The
need didn't matter, not like it once had. "Took me a
lot to learn that …"
"Fighting
… is easier." Hooch brought out, barely more than
a whisper, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the
bit of rope they could grasp.
"I
guess it is. It's a habit." Vadim reached over, worked
his way down from the neck and shoulders, down the back, the
hips, the thighs, calves, to the feet. Firmly stroking, he'd
need oil for a proper massage, it might be worth getting up
and getting some. But he couldn't be bothered, he wanted to
touch instead, stay close, listen to Hooch breathe. Gradually
relaxing himself, focused on the other's body, some arousal
was still there and it would take very little to make it flare
up again.
With
every touch, every minute longer, every connection of hands
on skin and flesh, something happened in Hooch. First a faint
tremble in his legs - unexpected and overwhelming in its simplicity.
His head relaxed, neck muscles, abused and tortured, losing
their tightness, and his knees spread further. Sliding towards
the hands, opening wider, and opening for more than a cock.
The whole man, inviting. Hooch's body accepting and understanding
long before Hooch understood. And Vadim kept thinking, that
was how he wanted him, like this. He didn't want to break
the man. He wanted the acceptance and the lust from him, too.
"Why
are you doing this?" Hooch murmured, speech was becoming
easier, despite the parched throat. "I thought ... "
"You
thought I'd fuck you even though it would be just pain."
"Yeah
…"
"Not
much you could have done. Could have fucked you with a knife.
Nobody knows where you are. Nobody would hear you scream."
"Nobody
ever does." Barely breathed out, Hooch wasn't sure anymore
if he was talking, or thinking, or if the sounds came from
somewhere else in the room.
"True."
Self-sufficiency that had led to the worst loneliness imaginable.
That was Hooch in a nutshell, thought Vadim. Keeping up the
movements, he suddenly realized what he'd do next. He wiped
the lube from Hooch's ass and moved his face in, gently biting
the powerful muscled cheeks. Then less gently biting them,
enjoying the vibrating power, and then moved closer and deeper,
which made Hooch jerk, but not away, instead towards. Kissing
the hole, somewhat reddened and looser, Vadim moved his tongue
in, and the same time taking hold of Hooch's ass, folding
his hands over the small of his back, and blocking movement
backwards with his shoulders. All Hooch could do was allow
those sounds - any sounds - that wanted to come out, and he
let out another whimper, defeated, elated, before it changed
into a low groan. Such a soft sound from such a tough man.
The lube
was neutral in taste, vaguely oily and artificial, but no
bad taste, and Hooch was thoroughly clean. The opening reacting
with reflexes as Vadim licked and brushed, taking his time
with this. Hooch tried to move towards the tongue, but his
hips stayed in Vadim's grip, and his breathing increased,
louder, faster, intermingled with more of those small sounds.
This was too much, too good. His cock reacted eventually,
despite having cum only a short while ago. So much, so overwhelming,
he had forgotten that he was supposed to fight. It had been
drained out of him, the wound now clean, but open.
Vadim
smiled and pulled away, noticed the signs, and lazily ran
a hand over Hooch's cock. "Free choice", he murmured,
just loud enough. "I keep doing this until you cum. Second,
I'll untie you and we see what happens. Three. I'll fuck you.
Four. You suck me off. Five: any of the above in whatever
combination you want."
The body
beneath his hands shuddered, spine lowering down further,
as if all the muscles had lost their strength and could not
hold the body up. "Second." Hooch's voice was quiet.
Looking up, one-eyed, "untie me."
"Okay."
Vadim reached over, fiddled with the knots, but the second
one had pulled so tight that he had to cut it, less of a bother,
anyway. Removing the ropes, one by one, and dropping the pieces
on the floor.
Yet when
Hooch tried to move, his muscles didn't comply, he had no
control. Losing balance and falling onto his side. He groaned,
but there was no anger, instead laboriously turning half-way
onto his back, looking at Vadim. The true extend of the disfiguration
of his face became visible, and Vadim's eyes widened at the
… colours, and swelling, but Hooch was unaware. "Want
to suck you." Hooch reached out, leaving a faint trail
of smeared blood from a torn wrist, unaware of that as well.
Touching Vadim's shoulder. His arm so heavy, muscles exhausted,
it rested with its full weight. Had lost control over his
body and - at last - control over his mind. The needed, dreaded,
constant control. Not a shred of tension left in his body,
and least of all in his eyes. "Then fuck me."
Vadim
was no longer sure whether Hooch was in any state to do either
of those, looking at the face, the wrists. Fuck. Had anybody
else ever fucked him up that bad? Had he really used so much
force? I'm okay, he thought. I don't need … I'm not sure
I want … shocked at the extent of force he must have
used to make Hooch look like that. "You're not okay,
comrade. You … could just rest."
"Need
it." Nothing else mattered. No pleading, no anger, just
one simple fact.
Vadim
wasn't completely convinced, but he nodded, didn't want to
push him away, not in that fragile state right now. He began
to realize that he had no idea what he'd done to the Delta.
Or whether whatever he'd done could be reversed and again
yield Hooch as he knew him. "Okay." He stretched
out, hand trailing Hooch's shoulder, neck, wasn't even quite
sure whether kissing him was okay, but he moved up and towards
him, placing his lips on Hooch's swollen, bloodied ones.
The response
was slow, but no less intense. A different kiss, without the
watchfulness, without intent. A manifestation of sensations,
taste and feeling, as tongues touched, lips moved slowly.
Hooch kissed Vadim like only Dan ever had before. With utmost
focus and completeness. And that went right through Vadim,
the unexpected intimacy, the feeling in this, far more than
he'd ever got from Hooch. Soundly beaten and destroyed, but
at the same time, in that moment, Vadim couldn't feel guilty
for it, despite all the evidence of how much the Delta had
been fucked up. Vadim smiled gently, running his hand through
Hooch's hair. "Okay. I … think I know how."
He moved and turned, kissing his way down, then shifted and
turned on the bed until he was facing Hooch's half-hard cock,
keeping some support against Hooch's legs.
Moving
a fraction forward, Hooch's lips touched Vadim's cock, just
staying there for a moment. Eyes open, looking, not watching,
not in the way he used to, but looking closely and just breathing.
Inhaling the scent. Musk, male, some lube still, and his tongue
snaked out and licked along the length with deliberation.
Not the clinical detachment, the undeniable skill, but imprinting
himself with touch and taste, and really, truly, wanting to
lick and suck that cock. His eyes closed and he rested his
hand on Vadim's hip, merely lying there, while he moved his
head, using only his tongue and lips to lick and suck, getting
the most taste, the most sensation possible.
Vadim
had hardly touched Hooch's cock, too … yeah, needy suddenly,
too much caught up in the feeling of this very different way
to do it. This wasn't the devil may care Delta, wasn't the
man that seemed to fuck or suck mostly for sports and as part
of a trade. When he could think just remotely clearly again
- hard with the need coming back full force, with every second
making it better, he forced himself to take Hooch's cock,
which was fully hard. Interesting. Hooch really got into it,
so much that Vadim found it difficult to even get the basics
done, no tricks, just sucking and licking unless something
Hooch did made him breathless and forced a groan from him.
Hooch
slowly licked up the length, letting his head fall to the
side. "Fuck me." Voice husky.
Vadim
rolled over onto his back for a moment, gathering his thoughts,
his mind, everything. He turned again, pushing Hooch over
onto his back, whose limbs moved languidly, like nearly frozen
water. Heavy, but pliable. Vadim got onto his knees, while
Hooch's legs fell open, and reached for the lube, then pushing
lubed up fingers into Hooch, who was still nice and relaxed,
counteracting the soreness of the merciless dildo fuck. Vadim
pushed up Hooch's legs, because the Delta likely didn't have
any strength left for this, placed them onto his shoulders,
and they were, indeed, dead weights. Such 'weakness' for a
man of Hooch's strength.
Fuck
me. That wasn't quite the expression, Vadim thought, as
he eased himself in, feeling all that, everything he'd imagined.
The heat and the tightness, but above all, that acceptance
that sometimes came with defeat, apparently, or with something
else that he had with Dan. Hooch rolled his head to the side,
good eye looking at Vadim, before it, too, closed, and he
parted his lips, letting out a long, deep sigh. His hands
on the sheets, fingers slowly curling then uncurling again.
Moving
in and closer, Vadim kept most of his weight away from Hooch
as he pushed deeper, bending to get to his lips, his face,
his throat, while he began to ease out, and back in, thrusts
slow and controlled.
Hooch's
lips were moving, lifting his arms, heavy as lead weights.
His hands on Vadim's shoulders, touching, connecting.
Vadim's
breath came hard, but he didn't want to inflict more pain,
and yet, he needed Hooch, too, needed to cum, after a whole
day of wanting, and what felt like hours of prelude and sex
and 'fun'. "You okay?" he asked, voice somewhat
strangled by need. If he had to stop, he would. The alternative,
not stopping, didn't bear thinking about.
Lips
parted, Hooch opened his eyes at the question, looking at
Vadim. Truly looking, not using the faintest amount of control.
All gone, all given up, and he smiled. A rare smile, none
that Vadim had ever seen. A smile that belonged to the man,
not the Delta. His hands moved slowly, with effort, head lifting,
which was even harder. Fingers moving travelling Vadim's face,
touching. "Yeah ..." Whispered. Resting his head
back, Hooch closed his eyes once more.
Vadim
turned his head to kiss a hand, then moved again, sweat running
from him as the control took so much strength to maintain.
He didn't just want to pound into Hooch, he wanted to …
what? 'Make love' or something like that. Yes. Fuck. He cared
about the man, there was all this tenderness, all the stuff
stored up inside him, and he didn't want to lose himself just
yet. Instead moving, thrusting, sliding, shifting the angle
to find the best way to do this, while keeping his own need
in check, holding force back, and everything else, eyes half
closed.
Hooch's
arm slid off Vadim's shoulder at one stage, and he just lay
there, as if crucified. Eyes closed, head back, laboured breaths
coming from parted lips, riding out the sensations. Higher
and higher, towards a plateau he stayed on, impossible to
crash over the edge. That was the crux, he was passive. Like
never before in his entire life, not even in any of the dangerous
hardcore scenes he'd got himself into. This, now, was the
absolute final abandonment, and it was shaking him to the
core. Ripping him wide open and hurting - and that ache was
good. Not empty. Not just surviving. Time to start living.
Vadim
shifted again, wrapped a hand around Hooch's cock, and timed
the motion with his thrusts that got deeper and harder, sweat
trickling from his back now. Still nowhere near the savage
madness, still lucid and emotional, no anger, no hatred, no
disregard. Just that, giving Hooch what he could, and what
he needed, while taking what he needed in return. Exchange
and gift and all that, but above all, it was a relief when
he finally allowed himself to come, groaning and grateful
when he could lift that pressure, the restraint, thrusting
hard a few more times, but already gone, tired, drained, and
cleansed.
Hooch
hardly noticed the change, body still clinging to those last
hard thrusts and the hand that couldn't quite take him over
the edge. Opening his eyes, so close, too close, and his whole
body shook with need. There was only one thought left, only
one thing to do. "Please!" And he begged. At last.
Vadim
understood, and while he was out of breath, that didn't matter.
He shi |
