birds chirping, trees blooming, baby rabbits hopping
across fresh green lawns, prettily sniffing at daffodils.
right. Dan sneered at the mental image with which he
had been amusing himself for the last two hours while
cleaning his guns for the umpteenth time.
Bloody spring in this goddamned shithole and the snow
was still covering most of the mountains. Granted, the
plateau was fairly clear from the white crap that was
pissing him off to heaven and hell after almost six
months of trudging through this shit, but the nights
were still freezing. The cold was ten times worse than
the heat had been during the last time he had been in
April. Nineteen-bloody-eighty-bloody-two, and it felt
like eons ago since he had carved a word into bleeding
flesh, sealing his fate by setting the path that would
lead him back to this place, waiting. Day after day,
approaching the tenth. He'd be waiting until he could
hold off his orders no longer, bound by his duties as
much as the other.
after day. Shooting small animals, skinning, roasting,
eating. Shitting in a faraway corner, pissing the water
back out that came cold and fresh from the well that
still sported the Russian's blood in his imagination.
There, the construction that held the bucket; the beam
he had tied the man to. Dan was watching, waiting, cleaning
his weapons and doing some exercises, but most of all
observing the mountains. Alone with his thoughts, content
with himself. Sleeping, dreaming, never of anything
other than sweat and heat, touch and need.
enough to sleep outside, and Vadim didn't mind anymore,
didn't mind the country, or the stress, didn't mind
mountain warfare and the deaths. Remembered Platon,
good for a dozen fucks, perverse the fact that the kid
had been so fucking young and so fucking scared, the
contrast of their bodies nearly the best about it, bony,
slender, a sleek creature with good bones, good features.
Had been trip number 30, one-and-a-half medals, for
courage, in what his side called "road war",
fighting for streets and passage, and mobility.
shot in the throat, Platon had bled out before any medic
could reach him. The driver had been gloomy during winter,
so gloomy that Vadim had bitchslapped him, several times,
told him to get his fucking act together, but Platon
had said he'd die. Had been right. Hadn't shaved before
his trips, no hand shaking, no photos, and still dead.
couldn't linger, didn't want to. Platon and him had
been 'friends', the kid sometimes rested at his shoulder
when they drank, and it was a father-son-thing, Vadim
doubted anybody knew their physical ease with each other
had been earned at night. Fuck. Platon had gotten into
his mind, a little, maybe because he had been so scared
the first time, begged him not to hurt him, offered
whatever to not be hurt. Vadim had been too sober, he
actually didn't do it as intended, thought of the fucking
Brit and their meeting in Kabul, and thought, fuck.
Had taught Platon how he liked to be touched, did the
whole thing, jerking each other off, Platon didn't get
into cocksucking, though, too nervous. Vadim had fucked
his thighs for weeks and jerked him off before he actually
fucked him, and he'd been 'careful', and gotten the
other to relax and enjoy it. Never quite like Gavriil,
who was still stationed somewhere in Kabul, but actually
the very first conscript with some guts despite his
age. Guts enough to treat him just like another soldier,
no fear of the invincible, indestructible spetsnaz.
Kids and fools know no fear.
had written the letter home, what a hero Platon had
been, how much his comrades respected him, heart and
soul of his unit, and had wanted to scream in rage,
go off into the mountains and kill everything that moved,
pile bodies up just to feel better. Was oddly, darkly
relieved he hadn't raped the kid, not to his knowledge,
not like he could have. Leaving him not much of an option,
okay, but hey, that wasn't as bad as it could have been.
Sent the letter off and kept his own council. Platon's
friends thought he was one of them, but he didn't take
any bullshit from them about consolation. He wasn't
that young anymore, and never been that innocent. He'd
been the father-figure of one fucking conscript who
had been fascinated with the special forces. End of
pulled strings to be able to get to the cave, check
out dushman movements, alone, because hiding one man
was easier. He'd been especially careful, kept to himself,
thought things through, Platon, and the strangely gloomy,
hopeless thing they'd had, Platon who'd said he felt
safe with him, Vadim who had joked he could kill him
in a heartbeat. Or rather, not joked.
moved, guided by the latest intelligence, went with
a convoy, then began the long march, slept when he could,
always defenceless the moment his mind slipped away.
in the middle of the night, there was a blinding pain
in his head, then a deeper kind of darkness.
next time he woke up, it was to kicks and punches, his
hands twisted, and curses in Dari, or Pushtu, or any
other language. Still could only order tea. He had a
rag over his head, nose and eyes felt swollen, the bag
was wet, and he knew they tried to scare him, scare
him by restricting his oxygen, and he breathed, calm,
forced his mind to acknowledge he'd been taken in his
sleep, in the middle of nowhere. Not fucking again.
hit him, hit him a lot, rifle butts, he thought, mostly
against his back and shoulders, his chest. He did as
expected, cringed like a worm that was being stomped
upon - no guise, he did mean it.
didn't speak Russian, or English, but they must have
worked out he was an officer, or the pain in the night
would have been a bullet. They'd take him somewhere
where they could cut the knowledge out of him. He had
no idea how many they were, he heard definitely more
than two voices. Didn't give a fuck, plotted, worked
on his escape when they tired of hitting him. Calculated
his chances, didn't look bad, did what they forced him
to do, and that was march.
roughly calculated the direction in which they took
him as north, judging from the way they bowed to Mecca
five times a day, and he could peek through the rag
when he worked a little, pulling the cloth with his
lips to a place that was thinned out, saw shadows, and
that was just enough. North. Closer to Kabul again,
not south, toward Pakistan. Probably meant to bring
him to the Panjer. Which was amazingly bad news. He
didn't want to get face to face with the warlords there.
prepared to make a run for it, but the bitches were
careful and thorough, and his hopes sank. They kept
him short on water and food, probably didn't have much
themselves, and underestimated the amount of water that
a body like his needed, they seemed to be creatures
of leather, these mountain people.
they rested during midday, and Vadim collapsed onto
his knees, breathing hard, dizzy, throat parched. There,
"salaams", greetings. Another voice. They
seemed at ease. Had met up with another group? Probably
focused on breathing, listening, thought he might recognize
place names, names of people if he listened carefully.
But then. The voice. Pushtu. A deceptively soft voice,
with a melody he recognized. Dan? What the fuck? His
head snapped up, he tried again to work on the rope
around his wrists, they let him drink like an animal,
that rope came never off.
voice continued, talking slower than the locals, but
fluently. Then silence, shuffling, the rustle of papers,
and several voices together, debating. It had to be
his captors, then, who spoke with determination. "No."
the rifle slung carelessly across Dan's back, cajoling,
trying to bribe with words and explain, showing the
letter that gave him authority, and arguing the prisoner
should be his. He should take the Russian soldier to
the warlord, but they refused. No.
Not his. Wrong warlord, wrong place, wrong religion
and wrong race.
remained silent, shielding his eyes with hair and dark
brows while glancing at the barely conscious figure
on its knees. The Russkie. His Russkie. His cunt.
could have been hewn from stone, didn't move a muscle
as he heard the voice, knew for a fact it was him. The
voices sounded agitated, those weren't Dan's insurgents,
Afghanistan and its fucking factions, one warlord hating
the other, one race the other, ethnic groups as incompatible
as predators and prey.
understand." Dan finally answered. In Pushtu again,
nodding and seeming acquiescent. "The Soviet officer
is yours. Take him to your warlord. He is your responsibility.
I will be on my way." A shuffle of boots on the
bare rocks and Dan turned to leave. "Da-svi-da-niya."
It hit Vadim like a grenade, everything he'd gathered,
thoughts, willpower, strength, suddenly burst into splinters.
He fought, got up, got two strides in, then heard them
shout and again the fucking rifles butts, until he couldn't
move but squirm on the ground, choking on his tears.
Hoped to fuck the SAS guy would move up higher into
the mountains, take aim and shoot him from there. Had
no voice, no breath, no strength to shout that after
him, instead focused on curling up against the vicious
blows. They did what he would have done to a prisoner.
All's fair in war. He had been taken. That was his lot.
Nothing he could do about it. Platon had had a quicker
there was an opportunity later. Vadim waited, waited
for the one blow to the head that would be a big calibre
slug going right through it. Fuck Afghanistan.
walked away, barely able to control the tension. Fuck.
Fucking Russkie, but fuck those goat-herders even more.
Trust the Russian cunt to act like a brainless idiot,
attacking the Mujas with a hood on his head. The plan
had been forming in his mind while checking location,
opponents and chances during their conversation. He'd
tried with words, but in the end, fire and steel would
do it again.
couldn't have shot them, not then nor there. Not three
at the same time. Besides, his ammo and rifle were rare
in the mountains. Too dangerous to be tracked and found
out, Dan, the foreigner, the Westerner and infidel,
the man who came to help and who turned out to be a
traitor? No fucking way. All he could have done - was
what he did. To have his presence acknowledged by uttering
the Russian greeting, and to listen and watch the beating.
passed, Dan remained carefully hidden close by, behind
an outcrop of rocks where he had stashed his bergan
long before the three insurgents had arrived, taking
their captured prize to the water. He'd noticed them
from miles away, those damned natives would never learn
to be stealth fighters. Now watching, waiting again,
still for the same man, but this time the stakes had
been upped and a whole new deck of cards had been handed
to the very few players. Hearts or spades; he'd take
the cocks instead.
fell, and Dan was ready to go, watching the group around
the fire. The prisoner - still with his head covered
- slumped and seemed more dead than alive. It would
get fucking cold soon, was well below freezing, but
he counted on the Russian and his physical strength.
He'd make it, had done it before.
one of the Mujas stood up, left the fire, rolled up
in his coat and a blanket, close to the Russian. Towards
the edge of the cave, seemed they avoided the darkness
at the back.
Dan frowned. None of the other two started to move,
the bastards continued to sit and talk. He noticed the
Russkie's head fall forwards and his body slump, and
Dan knew he could not wait any longer. Bad sign. He
was betting on dehydration and weakness, maybe shock
due to extensive bruising. A few more hours and the
Russian would be useless for what he needed him to do.
climbed out of his hiding place between the rocks, started
to make his way in, torturously slow belly-crawling
towards the cave, took the long way round from the back,
until he finally, after what seemed an eternity, came
close enough to touch the Russkie. He was hidden in
the shadows, shielded by the other's body and the cold,
moonless night. Darkness. His friend.
In Russian. Whispered into Vadim's ear the moment his
hand clasped over the hood, judging where the mouth
jerked awake again, had started to dream something,
couldn't bear waiting anymore, had been sweating and
nervous about the fucking bullet that never came, now
felt something touch his face, restrict breath. Could
feel himself shudder, slowly shifted his weight, moved
his hands, yes, reached out with his fingers, almost
numb as they were, tried to touch, tried to understand
whether it was Dan and whether he'd come to kill or
free him. He nodded.
felt the nod, those fingers moved, sensed the tension
in a body he was getting to know as well as his own.
"Wait. Don't move." Breathed into the other's
touched Dan's thigh, needed to calm himself, needed
that touch, full stop. Wait. What if, whatever Dan planned,
went wrong? What if he started to hope he'd be free
and then it wouldn't happen. Fuck.
hand slid slowly off the hood, froze at a shuffle and
a sound right beside him where one of the Mujas was
asleep. Remained absolutely still until he was sure
the man had settled back to sleep. Heard the other two
were talking over there at the fire. Good, no movement
nor recognition from them. His hand crept to his back
and touched the sheath that housed his most trusted
knife. He'd only have one go at it, and it had to be
again, barely visible increments in the darkness, until
the shape of the sleeping man became clearer. There.
Head, neck, shoulders. Throat.
was quick. Swift movement, flash of the blade and the
razor-sharp assault knife cut through tendons, trachea
and part of the spinal chord, almost severing the vertebrae.
Death. Silent, except for a faint gurgle, and swift.
No agony, just death. Nameless. Shapeless. Meaningless.
two others were still talking. Dan waited. Watched,
back to the old game of patience, cleaned the blade
on the Muja's coat before silently sliding back, once
more to the Russian. Cutting through the knot that tied
the hood to the other's head. "Do you function?"
Toneless whisper directly into the ear.
nodded, could smell the blood over his own smell of
fear and pain. "Positive", he breathed, raised
his hands a little to present the rope, wrists pushed
apart. His ribs were alright, he was only hurting, not
seriously wounded. He hoped. No, he'd have noticed that.
hood slid over Vadim's face, was silently discarded,
the knife severed the rope between his wrists, while
Vadim's eyes got used to the star- and moonlight again,
the reflection of fire. The darkness was gone, he could
see. His left eye twitched, it was pretty badly swollen,
but his sight was decent.
steadying hand appeared between the Russian's shoulder
blades, applying a firm pressure. "See the Mujas?"
nodded, rubbing his wrists, spread his fingers, checked
whether all tendons were good, stretched his legs, too,
slowly shifted into a crouch. Fuck, he was hurting,
but his body geared up for the kill.
moved, everything agonisingly slow, silent, got the
second knife out, pushing it into the other's hand.
"Blade's shorter." Figured it was all the
Russkie needed to know. Special Forces. "I take
the right. You the left. No guns, no bullets, no detection."
nodded, assumed the dushmans would be blinded by the
fire, would much prefer his pistol, his rifle, or a
garrotte, take one prisoner and torture the fucking
life out of him. His lips moved into a feral snarl,
the hatred pushed pain and exhaustion to the side, grew
and surged. He shifted his weight, began to move in
a circle, to flank and strike and kill.
moved into the opposite direction - silent progress;
silent attack. His second kill was as swift as the first.
Painless except for the moment of terror in his victim,
when the blade entered the body, sliced and severed,
taking the man from life to death. He was pushing the
lifeless body to the ground, when a sudden frenzy of
motion and sound caught his attention.
appeared right out of the darkness, up to the last heartbeat
didn't know whether he'd only wound or kill, but he
was in a shit state, mentally most of all, and there
was nothing he did want to know, so just made the bastard
grin and gurgle, and hacked the knife into the body,
down through the shoulder, again, and again, kicking
him, hitting him, the knife went in and in, blood splattering
into his face, on his chest, the rage just tore free,
and he wanted to reduce that body to nothing, to fucking
nothing. Minced meat, and he screamed with rage and
anger and pain, all the fear came out, the pressure,
Platon. Kept the knife but went to his knees again,
exhausted, pain throbbing in his face and chest and
stood, motionless, watching the entire show. He didn't
have a fucking clue what was going on in that madman's
mind. Cleaning the knife, he pushed it back into its
sheath. "He's dead. You can stop now." Shook
his head, looked at the mutilated, still twitching copse
in disbelief. "Talk about overkill. You Russians
are fucking weirdoes."
stared at the ground, thought he'd break down, but he
just breathed through the parched, raw throat. Wanted
to scream more, wanted to cut the bastard open and see
his guts gather dust on the ground. Breathed. Slowly
extended a hand towards sanity, pulled himself out of
this state that wasn't healthy, wasn't sane, looked
up to the other, not quite comprehending, moved a couple
yards to get to his pack, his gear that the dushmans
had brought. Found his canteen and poured the water
down his throat, swallowed, felt he could never drink
enough to not be thirsty, gave his stomach a few moments
to deal with the water. "Fucking hate bitches
can tell." Dan replied coolly, wiped his hands,
hardly any blood on them. He'd been professional, cold,
felt somewhat disturbed at the other's reaction. Watched
him drink, his own breath curling in front of his face
before he bent down, rifling through one of the corpses'
clothes and bags. "We need to get rid of them.
Enemy warlord, all that crap. Make it believable."
He kept some of the weapons he found, but most of the
stuff was useless tat. Prayer beads, Arabic writing,
Koran. He didn't want any of that. "And get washed
up. Fucking madman."
looked up. No way he'd tell the bastard that they had
kicked and treated him like a fucking dog for the last
days. "Can help you carry. Ravine? Or bury them."
Hard work to bury here, with just stones. But yes, didn't
exactly want to attract buzzards. He drank more, poured
water into his hand to wash his face, noticed the cuts
burned, the bruises that hurt when he touched them.
Not a pretty sight. Stood, swaying on his feet, wiped
the knife and tugged it into the empty sheath in the
small of his back.
was my knife." Dan raised his brows while rifling
through the last of the corpses. Kept everything useful,
threw anything discriminating into the fire.
grinned. "Past tense." Always good for a grammatical
shrugged, he had more than two knives. "Ravine.
There's one close by." Shaking his head at the
other's unsteadiness. "Forget it." The fire
gave enough light for a few steps, he'd get the bodies
out of sight, to be disposed of in the morning. "You
look like shit even in the darkness. Get the gore off
you, I do the rest. It's fucking cold and I could do
with some body heat."
nodded, staggered over to the water hole, pulled water
up, then undressed to wash. He was getting sick of his
own stench, uniform, everything dirty, grimy, bloody,
just being fucking alive meant to crawl through dirt
and get dirtier by the minute. He hated the stubble
in his face, his hair was too long, too, wanted to get
shaved and clean and began to wash, blood, sweat, shit,
everything, kept washing, would have loved a bath, sauna,
or an extended swim because nothing else made him feel
shifted the first body onto his back, across his shoulders,
trotting off to drop it behind a rock formation with
smaller boulders nearby. It would have to do. Just had
to wash the blood off the plateau before the sun brought
out the stench.
washing his uniform, Vadim spread it out over rocks,
hoping to catch some warmth the next day, then wrapped
himself in one of the blankets, wool, smelly and scratchy,
watched Dan carrying the corpses while he sat near the
fire, soaking up warmth and trying to wind down.
was throwing buckets of water across the rock until
he was satisfied it was clean enough until dawn when
he could take a proper look. Stripped out of parka,
tunic and shirt, started to wash himself. Blood on his
clothes, mainly from the butchered one.
you'd shoot me."
turned his head, shivering in the freezing cold. "I
had to let you know it was me. Had to use Russian. Couldn't
use anything else without raising suspicion."
makes sense." Vadim clung to the canteen, drank
more water, could feel his body soak it up.
his boots, Dan stepped out of them, the socks, then
finally the trousers. Freezing his arse off, teeth chattering.
Cold water and steaming breath, a bloody uncomfortable
combination, but he had to wash whatever he could.
waiting ten days." Cleaning his cock, shrunk into
itself in the cold, the usual attention on the foreskin,
his back to the Russian.
glanced at the ass in the light of the fire, saw the
dark arms, bowed neck, the other was touching that cock,
and he smiled, lips swollen, dry, cracked, but he smiled.
me surprised when you came with company." Dan turned
round and smirked, drying himself with his shirt.
sure company's the word", Vadim murmured and forced
himself to not look towards the bodies. "They gave
me run for my money." He touched his face. "Not
exactly great fans of my masculine beauty, those three."
look even worse in the morning."
Vadim shook his head, looked up when the other came
close, crouched down and studied him in the fire, the
embers prepared to last the night. Found it hard to
answer that gaze. The Brit had risked his life, saved
it, most likely, again, and Vadim felt a shudder course
through his body. Somehow, the other always ended up
with the upper hand in these mountains.
a change. It's not my fault." Dan prodded the Russian
to shift and let him under the blankets. It was cold.
He was freezing. If he didn't get warm he could be dead
by the morning. Necessity.
let the other have the space he'd been heating up, naked
himself. Wanted to touch him, wasn't sure what he wanted,
wasn't sure it was sex, not quite sure he could be horny
after this, too tired, no, shaken, wanted to lie there
and stare at the sky. He lay on his back, stretched
his legs out, raised his hands to look at the wrists.
They'd look less raw in a few days, feel less tender.
"No, not your fault", he murmured, belatedly.
"For once, eh?"
for once." Dan let out a sound of pure pleasure
when he felt the heat seep into his skin. Stretched
out, then turned onto his side. Comfortable, the ground
padded with some insulation the Mujas had left. Dark
eyes studying pale skin as he rested his head on his
elbow. "Didn't mean for this to happen." Dan
paused, felt this odd sensation of
no idea they were in this area. Too many fucking tribes
dropped his hands behind his back, elbows shielding
his face while he fought the twitch in his face. He
should be able to deal with it. Had been strong all
the time. The last hours, though, while he had waited
for the bullet, that had gotten to him. Nodded, inhaled
deeply, then opened the elbows and rested the back of
his head on his crossed arms. "My fault. Not paranoid
enough. Not nearly enough." Too tired. Too defeated.
reached out, his hand rested on the other's abs, under
the blankets. Felt heat creep from the skin, feeding
it back again. "How long did they have you? You
look like a fair few beatings at least."
looked down at his body, tensed the muscle to keep that
weight there, nice and snug. "Two days. Like weekend
with in-laws, eh?" Tried a smile. "Bad food,
and they hate you."
Dan's eyes narrowed, could just about imagine what it
had been like. "I don't take kindly to those who
try to take away from me what is mine." Quietly,
surprising himself, then falling silent, moving even
closer until skin was pressed against skin, sharing
every ray of heat.
turned his head, gave a smile, wanted to put an arm
around the other, like he'd done with Platon, winced
at the thought, but then, it was about warmth, right?
take your mind off," Dan murmured, "if you
think it'd be successful. Feel all the shit is kind
of my fault, even though you followed your cock, like
I predicted. But fuck, so do I. Every time."
didn't want to think about it, his face pulsed and hurt,
and he reached out to the canteen and drank more, needed
to get more water down to make up for what he'd lost.
"All's fair in war, eh?" He turned, facing
the other, pulled one arm from under his head and pushed
it under Dan's head, hand to the back of his head, pulling
him closer, close enough for a kiss, wanted to rest
against the other's chest and thought how fucking stupid,
no way he could get that from the Brit, he wasn't a
child anymore. He didn't need this.
in Dan's body, sudden tension, surprised at the closeness.
Forced himself to relax slightly, nestled-cradled in
the other's arms. Strange. Wrong. Confusing.
released him, cursed himself for trying to get that
close. "Ah, fuck. Take my mind off it. Fuck me.
Whatever. Get me tired."
you?" Dan shifted, looked straight at the Russian,
trying to figure out if he'd lost his marbles or had
just been simply fucking crazy all along. "Does
that mean you meant that, a month ago?"
what I meant." Vadim swallowed, closed
his eyes, felt almost embarrassed. Had offered again.
Seemed he had to finally accept the fact that he wanted
the other to fuck him.
frowned. "How can you want that. That
it feels good", Vadim murmured. "I
like it. I'd have to tell you how to do it, and we'd
need something like
oil, but I like getting fucked."
His jaw muscles tensed. "Not often. Not by
you know. In army. Can't allow that." Fuck, difficult.
remained silent. Brows furrowing, thinking. Hard and
long, trying to figure it out. Those Mujas already forgotten.
Corpses. Starting to rot. No space nor time nor feelings
for those who were gone. No thoughts for the dead, rarely
for the living.
you like it, and I guess you don't mean the way you
did it to me, then why do you rape men? Plural,"
Dan snorted, "Don't think I was nor am the only
one." He frowned, tried to get his head around
the concept. "I don't get it. You doing it for
the power? If not, for what else?"
inhaled deeply. Fucking complicated. "I
don't take no for answer", he murmured. "I
want them, and I know I can't have them that way, so
I force them. I don't want
anything long, just
get rid of pressure. It's not always like that, it's
risk every time, but
" Platon. He had been
getting somewhere else with that one. Platon had resigned
to the fact, had arranged acquiescence, even understanding,
just somehow gotten his head around it.
getting fucked? Power again, but in the reverse?"
I don't know. It just feels good.
Drives me insane. It's
different. Gets me deeper
than other way. You know. Gets
under my skin."
Of course deeper. What a shit way to describe it.
hand moved along the abs, slid lower. "I understand
power, need, not taking no for an answer, but I don't
get it the other way round." He paused, "I'd
fucking kill you if you tried to fuck me." His
fingers tensing on the other's groin.
smirked, took the hand and held it there, for a long
moment, looked into the other's eyes. "Did you
ever fuck a woman's ass? I know a fair deal of men who
do that. Heard it's not that different. I
nodded, hovering between a grin and a frown. "Fucking
bitches were hard to convince, wouldn't give up their
precious holes. Was rarely worth the effort." Especially
that last one, stupid giggling bimbo in her pink thong.
moved closer, murmuring into the other's ear. "I
heard guys are tighter, though, much tighter than women
can offer. And I'd be hell of lot more willing to boot."
The prospect aroused him, getting the other to do it.
"You don't have to go gentle, or stop. All I'm
asking is your hand around my cock, so I can cum."
tensed, every muscle telling the story of his mind,
drawn to the prospect of willingness, anger, power,
unleashed strength of a body that could take it. "You
bitch." Murmured, breathless, addicted before
the poison had been injected. "I don't understand
why the fuck you want it, but I don't fucking care."
His body had decided before he'd made a conscious decision.
Wanted this. No holds barred. Bastard. "Your arse,
my cock. Makes a change."
inhaled again, but yes, he wanted that, wanted the other
to try and fuck him, hard, preferably, a hard, intense
fuck that would take his mind off dying. "Yes.
I'll be tight. Didn't have guy like that for what, five
years? Already that long." He released the other's
hand, allowed it to roam free, his hands on the Brit's
pecs, running down to the stomach, dead set on sex now,
mostly as an alternative to something he couldn't have,
and what did it matter anyway? Hands ran down to the
groin, then moved on the ground to get his lips around
the other's cock. Only to get him interested enough
detached bemusement at the movement south soon turned
into straightforward want. "Shit." Had been
interested before, now demanding. "Don't you need
stuff? You're a cunt, but
couldn't continue, too much friction and heat, "
but you don't drip."
pulled back. "Yeah. Oil would be good. You got
any? Those bitches took my kit, need to check what I
have. Gun oil would do." He paused, feeling his
," Dan lifted his head, looked down at
the shape beneath the blankets, saw the face that looked
like a butchered mess. Smirked, an unpleasant expression.
Gun oil. Remembered. The smell, the feel and the disbelief.
"Guess it's been tried and tested." Reached
for his bergan, right beside his head, rummaged in one
of the outer pockets and produced the bottle. "You
want to get fucked?" His cock jumped against the
Russkie's battered face. "You apply that stuff
yourself since you've got experience."
brow darkened, but yes, fair enough, at least it would
be enough oil that way. Opened the bottle, poured the
stuff into his hand, much like he had done back then,
could feel his heart pulse, hard, against his ribs.
Shit. Did he really ... yes. Reached behind himself,
rubbed the stuff between his cheeks, pushed a finger
into the ring, didn't look at the other as he did that,
slicking himself up like a whore, whatever, used more
oil, pushed more in, made sure it was enough.
smell. Dan's nostrils flared. Memory. Two years ago.
Kabul. Heat. Night. Pain and terror, disbelief. And
above all the pungent smell of gun oil. He watched every
movement and something inside of him was growing restless,
awakening. Something, that made him snarl and bare his
teeth when the other poured more oil into his palm and
reached for Dan's cock, oiling him nice and slow, tip
to balls. He had never fucked a man. Never been sober
when fucking a woman's arse, and rarely been less than
pissed when he'd been ramming his cock into a willing
as willing as this cunt. He felt tension strumming
through his body, each muscle ready, electrified, wanting
to attack. Slaughter and kill; on the battle field,
turned around to present his back. Nervous, suddenly,
wanted it and was nervous, after all, what the fuck,
how could he trust him that much; yeah, he'd saved his
life, not taken it several times, thought he should
be safe, better than any soldier of his side.
Dan shoved against the other's back. "No fucking
way. I've never fucked any cunt's arse other than on
all fours. I won't fuck yours either."
glanced over his shoulder. Just fucking lift that leg
and do it. He inhaled, slowly, breathed the anger away.
The other wanted him like he'd do his bitches, bent
over like an animal. Too close for a moment to saying
forget it. He rolled onto his hands and knees, body
tense because he was helpless now, needed all limbs
to support his weight, flanks open, cock easily attacked,
and his muscles coiled. Cold. "Relax", he
murmured, meaning more the other than himself, but it
was appropriate, too much so.
his surprise when the Russkie acquiesced, Dan got onto
his own knees, threw the blankets haphazardly over their
bodies, preserving some of the heat, never mind how
much he'd produce. Sneered at the sight of the kneeling
Russian. Arse, spread. Body, covered in bruises. Hole,
slick with gun oil, like a cunt. A real cunt. This fucking
bastard of a raping fucking Russian cunt. Dan growled
in the back of his throat, kneeling behind him, taking
hold of a flank, the other stroking his own cock. "Relax,
aye. Like you should have told me to, you bastard."
oil. Flesh. And a muzzle against his head.
tell me you didn't want this, bitch." No preliminaries,
for neither. Dan treated the man like a pussy, guided,
found, pushed relentlessly, half-breached the muscle,
sneered, "Don't ever cry rape, cunt!" Used
all his body strength, seized the other's hips with
both hands, bit down on his tongue and rammed his cock
viciously into that arse. No mercy. Bastard. Groaned
and started to fuck like a motherfucking piston.
body tensed, unexpected, completely unexpected, should
have known, fuck, the force hurt less than the words,
he was strong enough to take it, a massive invading
thing, like a fist to the guts, his body rushed into
stress, fear, unexpected, coiling like he was getting
beaten up again. Hadn't meant this, had wanted something
else, and still, the invasion worked. Worked in sickening
ways, hit him where he hadn't expected it, wondered
if that was what had made Platon accept it, a deep,
sickening pleasure that had no place here and still
existed, he'd wanted this, asked for it, and the other
only took him up on it, but this wasn't lust, not passion,
this was something entirely dark. And still.
groaned, suppressed the sounds after that, just breathed,
forced himself to accept the humiliation, needed all
his strength to move back, greet the thing he should
run away from, should try to escape, but in some fucked
up way it was what his body wanted now. Something inside,
something that tried so hard to break him it could make
him forget. Pushed back, face twisted, as if he was
in pain, and he was, in several ways, and still. Touched
him right there, the force told him it was alright,
he could agree to this, a force he couldn't muster now
by himself and merely had to take and endure.
fucked with all his strength. At first hatred, revenge,
with every thrust forcing his cock into the other's
body. Invading, punishing each time his hips crushed
against that arse. Muscles against muscles, body against
body, and man against man.
he didn't come. Couldn't. Not in the middle of anger,
neither in taking his revenge, brutalising the body
at his mercy. The body that could still turn the table
and rape him again; that could kill him as much as he
could kill in return. Dan groaned again, sounds torn
from his chest; eyes fixed on the body that fought without
seeming to fight. Matching strength with strength and
taking the impossible force despite beaten-up body.
and thrusts slowing, hands taking over, roaming. Closer,
ever closer to release with every time he drove forward,
pulled back out of tightness and oil-slicked heat, only
to bury himself even deeper into this damned willing
body that refused to give in, that just took, accepted,
but still with that same strength. Impressed despite
himself, in return his hands impressing, subconsciously
avoiding bruises, clutching flesh, kneading muscle.
closed his eyes as he felt the shift, that
shift that happened with Dan, like the moment of truth
when it had all been the other way round. He understood,
suddenly, physically, understood, and he would have
fought the touches, but they were good now, now that
the other touched him, really did, on purpose, took
his cock that was straining despite the pain, despite
the force and because of it.
was finding his own rhythm. Hand and strokes and arse
and cock and body. Cruelty turned into aggression; revenge
into lust. Fucked him, took him, wanted him. "My
" so close, fucking close to coming, "my
fell into the rhythm, fluid, body became one, wasn't
his anymore, was the other's, his mind fell into a place
where everything was calm, serene, and quiet, like under
the surface of an ocean. He wanted to reach behind and
knew he couldn't shift his weight that much, instead
tensed his ass, moved into the hand, completely taking
what was offered, given, no better knowledge, no humiliation,
he existed in the right time, place, and circumstances.
Everything felt more right than it had been for ages,
something like fifteen years. Or about two.
Dan, nothing was swift nor negligent this time. Unlike
the hand jobs, the biting, the quick and angry encounters.
Anger, too, but a physical one, discarding the mental
resentment. Thrusts in sync, riding the new-found rhythm,
hard and relentless, inherently smooth. Cock, hand,
bodies, all one, all rushing towards release, until
the sensation of tightness became overwhelming. The
last few thrusts were erratic, even harder, desperate.
Crashed over the edge, suddenly, brutally, letting out
sounds that bore no meaning. Dan was shuddering, gripped
by a body and by release.
pushed up until the last moment, couldn't quite come,
Dan came and Vadim loved that, loved the despair in
it, the way the other lost it, but he himself couldn't
quite get there, not physically, so shifted his weight,
splayed the fingers of his left hand wider, felt his
shoulder groan as he reached for his cock and pumped
it, hard and fast, just as brutal as Dan had done it.
Came without a second thought, groaning, head lowered,
neck tense, whole body taut, the wet sticky hand returning
to its place to support his weight, but he couldn't
hold it, just dropped to the ground, panting hard, slick
with sweat. "Oh fuck
was too dazed to notice much, just the sounds and the
scent of cum overpowering even the gun oil. Cock far
from softening yet, but slipping out when the body under
him collapsed. Didn't think, just seized blankets, threw
them over sweat, sperm, oil and heat, and let himself
fall down beside the other, rolling onto his back. Breathing.
Heart beat racing and aftershocks still shaking his
was on his stomach, hands just near his body, shoulders
couldn't take any more twisting, any more abuse. Body
burning, like embers, to ashes, burning out, cooling,
like the sweat on his body. His ass hurt in a strange
way, good at any rate, but nobody had done it like that
more care, more respect, tenderness, this was
not what people did to him, but what he did, and he
could feel a strange thing, like being vulnerable, exposed,
much worse than a stretched throat under a knife. Deeper.
closed his eyes, wasn't thinking. Existing. Sated. Breathing,
just breathing, more than merely physically content.
Hand sought out the other's body, rested somewhere on
sweat and oil slicked skin. Said nothing for a long
while, eyes closed.
didn't know what to make of the touch apart from remaining
there, close to sleep, but not falling into it. Something
inside was racing, and thinking, realizing things. He
liked the pain. He did like it. He wanted this, had
wanted it, from start to finish. He pressed his eyes
shut. Damn you.
started to move at last, braved his way out of the heat
beneath the blankets, hissing at the sudden shock of
cold. Walked to the bucket, the rag that the other had
used, washed himself before tending to the fire, and
taking the freshly wrung rag and the bucket back to
where the Russian was lying.
Set them down beside the other, crawled once more under
the blankets. Felt odd. Almost protective. Possessive,
as if he had to take care, now, as if by naming the
nameless he had made it his. His cunt. His Russian.
if only the fuck he knew.
thanks." Vadim sat up, one sticky mess, cleaned
up, the sweat first, felt his body deal with the shock
Dan had dealt it, muscles coiling, testing if he was
alright. He was. Washed himself, shifted away from the
wet spot that cooled now, moved closer, relaxed now
something inside him gnawing on the
problem. "Worked for me", he said, hardly
more than breathing.
guessed that." Dan answered, lying on his side,
facing the other. Not a hint of the earlier nastiness
in his voice. "Not sure if I get it, but I guess
it doesn't matter." One-sided shrug, reaching again
to the bergan, pulling his headscarf out, draping it
over the wet spot. "You were right, though."
acknowledged the scarf and settled, lying on his back,
feeling his body hot and relaxing, stretched out, arms
behind his head again. "Right? About me being tight?"
He looked to the side, irony in his eyes. "I guess.
It's good to let it all go, control, that shit."
Dan nodded, shuffled closer. Preserving body heat. "That,
and the other thing. Your body. It can take more. Fucking
amazing." Pulled his face into a grin while reaching
behind his back to search for one of the energy bars.
Found peanut butter and strawberry, dropped the first
in front of the Russian's face, started on the latter.
"Can't break you. Didn't know a fuck could be so
me?" Vadim gave a dry laugh, while his skin crawled.
You can't break me because I enjoy it. Breaking would
mean pain, more pain than I can take, but this was all
good, too good, getting off on the brutal force and
what would have reduced most people to tears.
Dan was chewing in the back of Vadim's neck, grinning.
"Breaking, as in girly bimbo china doll and I got
to be careful. With you I don't. You can take it."
spetsnaz. Of course I can. I like it rough." Understatement
of the year. Vadim took the bar, glad he could do something
with his hands. "Quite different, eh?" Just
shut up, Vadim, and think. Don't let him know too much.
Know more than he already did? Hardly possible.
to girls. Better." Dan bit off another piece, savoured
the sticky sweetness. "Even though I wanted to
hurt you at first. Really hurt you." Swallowed,
shrugged, "that changed."
drew a shuddering breath. I know, he thought. If you'd
had a knife, you'd have cut me open just to see your
cock come out the other side. Closed his eyes briefly.
you understand something about
me now." How much I want to hurt, and break, and
what I felt for you when I made you my victim.
chewing stopped all of a sudden, even forgot to swallow.
"Bull's eye." Quietly, no inflexion. That
one had gone straight in and to the core. He finally
swallowed that last bite, remaining silent for a long
time, so close to the other's body, they almost touched.
Pathetic that token space between them. "I don't
know if you want to get fucked as 'payment' for what
you've done, but whatever it is, I don't want it."
not changing it. I
want it because it feels good." Vadim answered.
Because I can lose myself and don't have to fight. Shivered
with the touch, a good way, intense again, but not sexual.
They'd had that. Something close, but not the same thing.
crossed the minute distance, said nothing. Body touching
body and skin to skin. Voice barely more than a murmur,
his intensity needed no volume. "Don't fuck me
kill to have you, still same, I'd lie if I made any
promises", murmured Vadim.
nodded, forehead lightly hitting the back of the other's
head in the movement. "OK. The rules are clear.
You'd kill for my arse, I'd kill you for my arse. I
can live with that." Too sated to get riled up
about anything. His hand coming up to rest on the other's
hip. Had done it before, almost two years ago. Almost
as close as he had been when inside that body - or closer?
smirked. Chose not to mention how good it could feel
and that things could be quite different, if he chose
to make them different. "Rules
good." He laid back, turned on his side and felt
the other closer than strictly necessary for preserving
heat. It worked fine. Naked bodies. Wool.
yawned. Tired now, exhausted and physically content.
"Will check your bruises tomorrow."
be stiff, but nothing serious", murmured Vadim.
"Bones are fine. We did check that." He gave
a toneless laugh.
wanted to reach out and touch, felt good now, better,
body realizing it was over, and there was no more danger,
no more things to defend against. That man was like
a tropical thunderstorm, he thought. The very heart
of thunderstorms, not the rumble and flash, but a proper,
all-encompassing, world-will-end thunderstorm. Even
better when it had ended.
yawn, and Dan burrowed even closer, without thinking.
A body, heat. Touching. He fell asleep in an instant.
Rifle close by, knife beside his head, chest pressed
against the other's scarred back and his hand resting
on Vadim's hip.
was getting towards dawn when Dan woke up. Refreshed
and rested, a dreamless sleep close to unconsciousness.
No thoughts of the lives they had taken, only memories
of a body he had possessed. He grinned, stretched slowly,
revelling in the shared heat, which made a bloody difference
from the previous ten nights. Reluctant to rouse the
other, he crept out of the blankets, tugged them back
down around the sleeping man and slipped into his clothes.
It was bloody freezing out there, but he'd got used
to the climate. The mountains had become a friend, a
dangerous one, no longer an enemy.
the fire, he refilled the battered tin pot he used for
cooking, prepared it to boil with a handful of tea leaves
and a large chunk of honey comb he'd managed to get
on one of the villages' markets. He'd prefer coffee,
but the sweetened tea would have to do.
was careful, convinced they were alone but checking
the grounds before tending to the corpses. Sure, the
other had offered to help, but he preferred to deal
with it himself. The battered Russkie needed sleep more
than carrying a blood encrusted corpse that was begging
for flies once the spring sun spread some warmth. He
was still wondering about the way the fucker had freaked
and stabbed the Muja like a madman. Whatever. Figured
it was because all of those Russians were crazy bastards.
carried one lifeless body after the other, disposing
all three in a deep ravine fairy close by, while thinking
of the night before. Couldn't get his head around the
idea of wanting to get fucked, become the bitch of another
man and willingly turn oneself into a dripping cunt,
but hey, he didn't argue. Wanted that body again.
returned to the cave, checked the sleeping bundle beneath
the blankets, shrugged with a grin and took a good long
piss before going on shovel recce - without a shovel.
Wouldn't do any good digging a shitting hole into the
rocks. Had found a comfy sport instead that kept smell
and sight hidden, and the flies away. Once back at fire
and camp, he stripped down to his trousers and boots,
thoroughly cleaned his hands, washed his face and chest
and figured he'd do the rest later when it got warmer.
Shrugged back into the parka, didn't bother with a shirt,
and checked the water. Good, the tea was merrily boiling
poured the honey sweetened brew into his one and only
tin cup, Dan moved towards the blanket bundle, crouched
down, grinning with teeth bared. "Oi, sleeping
beauty. Wake up." Waving the tea in front of the
smell. Wet hot smell, steam. Ground hard under his elbow,
ribs, hip, knee. Sunlight. Late. Vadim came round, felt
like he had to shake off a blanket of lead, emerged.
First glance went to the wrist, no watch, the Volkov
had been taken. Later than five. First time in ages
that he overslept.
dreamt, was grateful for that, it would have been about
being beaten up or about the gaping, black hole in Platon's
neck. Vadim looked at the mug, then the wrist, the grinning
face. Right. Sat up and scratched his neck, hair too
long there, could feel his body protest, inside, and
shoulders, and thought fuck, that's what I did to take
the dreams away. He nodded and took the mug, blew on
it. "Sleeping who?"
Dan smirked, sat down on the ground on a corner of the
blanket, legs crossed. "Seems you overdid the make-up
somewhat, princess. Especially the blue-black and green
eye shadow. Oh, you should do something about that swelling.
Isn't a good look on anyone."
glanced up. "Yeah. That makes me Princess Aurora
and you would be Prince Desire. Fuck you." Tchaikovsky.
Ballet. The Sleeping Beauty. He'd rather die than admit
he had liked ballet in a time when his father had tried
to drum some culture into him. Taking the Bolshoi with
him on Afghanistan tour was just not an option. One
of the things that were better left at home. He'd always
wondered about that story though. Absolutely stunning
girl, asleep, not awake, and all the guy did was kiss
her when he could have it all? No fucking way.
laughed, let the other drink before holding his hand
out to have a sip himself. Precious, the sweetened tea,
he had meant to keep the honeycomb for a special occasion.
Yeah, fuck, seemed this was one. They weren't trying
to kill each other on their 'first morning'.
brought his hand up and touched his face. Okay. If he
looked as bad as that felt, he'd look pretty bad even
in a week. His skin always did the whole colour set,
black, blue, purple, several great shades of red. "Could
use bag of ice, just bit late for that."
can still get you some." Dan shrugged, gestured
with his chin towards the rocks. "Might not do
much, but better than nothing. You'll need a damn good
story to explain your pretty looks." Smirked again,
took a few sips of the tea, handed it back.
combat, got a rifle sandwich for my troubles, but I
killed them. Spetsnaz are just that good." Vadim
nodded, glancing towards the back of the cave. "I
got rid of the Mujas. Everything worth anything is stored
had some more tea before standing, walked over to his
packs, found the spare pair of uniform trousers, a pair
of socks, and his boots, got halfway dressed, then walked
up to the dushman's stuff. Any kind of ID would be interesting.
Dug into their kit, plenty of beef jerky, dried fruits,
rolls of Afghani, one of which he pocketed, tossed the
other on the ground.
Vadim murmured, found a bag of raw opium, weighed that
in his hand for a moment. "Bakshish." He tossed
that on the ground as well.
was watching, eyes growing narrower with every item
that came out of the packs. He had a fair idea what
they'd contain, but fuck, he'd been careless. Should
have checked them first. Idiot, Dan, bloody idiot! Ruled
by your cock just as much as the other.
dug deeper, touched paper, felt like
a map. Notes
on it, an old Soviet map, probably prospecting map,
they were still using these, based on last century's
maps. "Shit." A bundle of letters, papers,
looked like correspondence, stuff for warlords, tribal
leaders. Jackpot. Glanced up to check where the Brit
stood and walked over. "No fucking way."
put the map down, breathed. Stayed relaxed, because
that was the only way he had a chance to surprise the
other. I'd hate to kick some sense into you, he thought,
and that thought shouldn't be here. This was still work,
and if he could return with a prize like that, he'd
come home as a victor. Could jump him now, could attack
him, wrestle. And then? He stood, took one step back
to get into neutral distance. "I need those."
Should fight for them, he could win.
shook his head. "You want to get me killed?"
Eyes narrowed, immediate change from grinning, relaxed
bloke to steel-sharp special forces soldier. "You
take that map back, the letters, and what are the chances
the next time I deal with my Mujas, turn a corner, only
to stand in front of a whole troop of bloody Russians?"
Shit. Shit! He should have checked the packs. His own
fault. Fucking idiot. Body tensing, readying for the
fight, set to win. "I want to survive, dickhead.
You take that stuff, chances are I'm dead."
felt strange to see the other bristle with determination.
Valid point. Both. "Could check what's in them",
he ventured, slowly, offering a treaty. One problem:
He still didn't know enough of the language. The other
could trick him. Probably would trick him. One thing
to fuck, another to be stupid. He stepped away, offering
the pack, sat down on a nearby rock. "Had my dose
of smashed face for week. Lucky you."
nodded, the tension remained, but disaster avoided -
for now. Taking the pack he started to read the missives,
frowned more with each of them, shook his head. Getting
to the map, he checked over the remarks, comments, pointers
and names. Tilted his head, thinking, folded the map
back up at last, turning towards the other. "Take
the map. It has information, but nothing that would
get me killed." Perhaps others, but hell, he didn't
give a fuck, wasn't their keeper.
correspondence is off limits. Knock me out when I'm
asleep or beat me unconscious, take the letters and
have them translated and next time you want a fuck you'll
have to use a piece of my rotting flesh as a hole, or
fuck yourself on a smashed-up bone instead of my cock."
He walked over, dropped the map in the other's hands,
holding the letters and notes in the other. "Understood?"
took the map. The KGB would love this. Then glanced
at the other's hand. Instinct fighting instinct, would
love to get his hands around the throat of the sniper
that had shot Platon. "Burn the shit", he
breathed, speaking Russian. Because I can't promise
I won't try to take them. This way, I'm not even tempted.
This way I can't think I should have.
else do you think I had intended." No more words.
Dan turned instead, threw the first letter onto the
fire, the others swiftly following. Watched the Russkie's
movements from the corner of his eyes.
folded the map and slipped it into his pocket, then
stood again, glanced up at the mountain, and began to
climb in the search for ice and snow. Three hundred
yards, a nice morning exercise. It was cold up there,
and his chest was pounding, hurting in the thin air.
stood, bare chest wrapped into his parka, hands in the
pockets of his camo trousers. "What the fuck do
you think you are doing?" Shaking his head, watching
the half-naked Russian in the snow. "Butt-fuck
took two hands of snow, a thin layer of dust covered
the snow here so close to the rocks, scraped the dirt
off, placed his face into the cold. He was fucking freezing,
but boy, it eased the pounding. Cold water ran down
his wrists, and he allowed the cold to bite and then
to subside, cooled his face, then washed his chest with
snow, cooled the bruises, then started with his face
again. Wouldn't make much of a difference, the injuries
were too old already, but never mind. Should have cooled
the worst with a knife blade. Shit.
sat down, shivering, used more snow. If he was the bitch,
he'd do what the other wanted. He took it up the ass,
meant he was the bitch, right? Not so simple, somehow,
even when it was. How far away was that from treason?
Allowing him to burn military intelligence? "I'm
in trouble", Vadim murmured, tossed the melting
snow away and began to walk back.
was sitting on one of the packs, close to the fire,
drinking tea and preparing food. He had given up on
the obviously insane fucker, who'd been spending all
the time lying in the snow instead of scooping some
up in a bucket. Looking up when Vadim reappeared. "Eat."
Didn't mention anything else, just pointed to the dried
fruit, nuts, beef jerky and the bubbling tea.
was starting to feel warm, still wrapped a blanket around
his shoulders. "Yessir." He gave a dry huff,
took handfuls of the stuff and began to eat. "Which
tribe are you working with? Pashtuns, right?" Paused,
looked up, surprised he would actually ask the question.
But then, how much could he prove when he returned?
As long as it wasn't about tactics and locations - and
they already knew a fair deal about the tactics.
shook his head. "I don't want to talk about my
orders with you. The less you know the better, alright?"
Taking a handful of nuts, offering some to the other
hate everybody, those fuckers. Russian, Soviet, British.
If you don't do allahu akhbar and aren't blood-related,
they'll cut your throat", said Vadim.
I work with isn't too bad." Dan shrugged, conveniently
forgot the dozen or so of times when he had thought
he wouldn't make it out of a warlord's territory alive.
Sometimes brandishing letters and names and having local
knowledge didn't work. "They let me be and vice
versa. Simple rules, if one of their women saw any of
my naked flesh while washing, I'd probably not manage
to get the soap off before I'd find myself cut into
strips." He grinned wryly. "Strange world,
but it's theirs, not mine. Got to accept that while
I'm here." Finished off the tea, before he suddenly
started to laugh. "I sound like a fucking politician.
Truth is, I personally don't give a shit about those
goat-fuckers and their fucking beliefs, but I do follow
it's orders that are wrong. You westerners try to make
this hell for us. Europe and America. Just look at any
map. Europe and Asia. Connected, right? There's nothing
between Slavs and Europeans, just
Made it easy for tanks, but also keeps mind open."
Dan shook his head. "You make it as much hell for
us as we make it for you. You and your ultimate neglect
of human life." He shrugged. "Seems I don't
even give a shit about that either."
not what I mean", said Vadim. "American continent.
Oceans east and west of it. They live in their own little
world. Not connected. Very far away."
threw a handful of nuts down his neck, chewing. "Americans
are fucking arsewipes. Friendly fire and nothing else,
but that's me, a British squaddie talking. We're not
quite cheek to cheek, despite what you think."
point is, they can't understand Asia. Last time they
tried, was Vietnam."
was stoking the fire. "You got a point. They don't,
we don't either. I don't even understand you. Out of
curiosity, do you understand me?"
smirked. "You speak my language. That's start."
He reached for the dried fruit and rolled a piece of
apple between first finger and thumb. "And I speak
your language. I had culture classes. Information is
limited, but I've seen movies. Read books, for authentic
language, to keep my skills. You must know about Soviets.
You can't learn a language without understanding. Concepts
behind words, thoughts."
shrugged. "I do." Chewed with delight on a
piece of dried fruit. "And did. Learning languages
without learning what's behind. It's just what I do."
Shrugging again, he stuffed a couple more fruits between
his lips. "Does it matter?" Speaking with
a full mouth.
regarded him for a minute, let another pass. They did
these things without understanding them? It was like
playing chess without understanding the mind of the
opponent, playing it without soul, purely mechanical.
The game didn't matter to them. It was about winning.
This man hadn't been trained to do this, it was an accident,
him knowing Russian. "Guess it doesn't matter",
he acknowledged. "Many ways to go to Rome, yes?
How did you pick up Russian? It's difficult."
Vadim stood and moved even closer to the fire, a cold
in him that was difficult to get rid of, his sore and
swollen flesh demanding rest, above all else.
aye, it's not quite like that." Dan swallowed another
round of fruit, then went for the dried meat, stewing
away on the fire. "Not with Russian anyway, though
it's pretty much as I said."
looked up, quizzically.
realised he was talking in riddles and suppressed a
smirk, trying again, wiping his lips before looking
at the other. "I have this knack. I hear languages
and if I hear them long enough and get a few pointers
they kind of make sense to me. That's why I understand
and speak Pushtu and Dari. Comes easy, it's like fucking."
He smirked, "not something I ever had to learn."
the strength and the force was all there, thought Vadim,
and felt a shiver course through his body. How odd.
Comparing a language to something the body did, not
the mind. I picked up Russian, I fucked a Russian -
that was what it translated to. He rubbed his arms over
the blanket, tried for some friction to get the blood
going, but it felt sluggish and dark and slow in his
body. Exhausted. Healing.
that the meat was just fine, Dan fished a piece out
and began to chew, thoughtful for a while, but still
watching the Russkie. He could see how cold the other
man was. "Russian was a bit different. I went for
books, tapes, the lot. They told me I'd get more interesting
missions if I'd become fluent." He shrugged, "so
I did." Finishing off his meat, pointing to the
rest, trying to get some of it down Vadim.
nodded. "I learnt English for Montreal. Chinese
at officer's academy. Tadjik in my last posting. Some
German at officer's academy, but I don't use it, so
it's leaving." When Dan finished off the meat and
offered him his share, Vadim didn't feel hungry, knew
he needed to eat, and found it hard to bring himself
to do it. He shouldn't talk that much. He was behaving
like a faggot, really, the kind of effeminate bastard
that spilt the beans after sex. Still enemies. He found
it hard to believe himself, slipped too easily into
trust. "I will eat later", he murmured. "Tea
would be good now."
wiped his lips again, nodded and pointed to the pot.
"Tea's been boiling for a while. Got another piece
of honeycomb, should be sweet and strong." He tilted
his head, studying the other with increased intensity
for a moment, then moved off his pack to crouch beside
the fire. "You look like shit." Poured the
tin mug full of the sweetened tea, handed it over. "Death
warmed over, except, that you don't seem to be particularly
warm." Baring his teeth momentarily into a semblance
of a grin.
cradled the mug, soaked up the heat. The mockery sounded
like banter. Nothing aggressive about it. Nothing too
bad. He grinned back, eyes narrowing a touch, but he
just couldn't help thinking how that same easy-going
guy had fucked him. That intensity.
stood up, smirking. "I'd suggest another fuck to
warm you up but A I'm beat and B you don't seem to be
up for it."
swallowed, wondered if he was up for it, in theory,
in practice, pile more pain on top of this last one,
more on top of the beating. "I'm not much of challenge
right now." Didn't like the thought, at all. Offering
was one thing, the inability to defend himself something
different. If he was the bitch, that meant the other
called the shots. When, where, how. He couldn't accept
that. Even though he wanted the sex. "Maybe tomorrow.
We can rest. Share
heat. Just that. Heat."
spotted another mug tied to the outside of Vadim's pack
and bent down to get it. "What," he smirked,
"snuggling? Like poofs, girlies and faggots do?"
One thing to fuck a man, another to want to hold him,
touch body, share heat, feel skin. Want. Fuck, no.
it, thought Vadim, realizing it with the closest thing
to horror. He wanted touch. Wouldn't get it. Wouldn't
ask for it, and it wouldn't just happen. Why? He knew,
of course, being demoralized, hurting all over, face,
body, ass, forfuckssake, only touch he'd get was that
man pounding against him. "Didn't say that."
thought we were about fucking, mate, not cuddling."
I thought we were about survival. Vadim snorted. "We
have shared heat before. Nothing new."
shrugged. "That was different." He was back
at the fire and pouring himself a tea. Couldn't help
but notice how cold the other was.
drank the hot tea, body tense and pulled together to
preserve heat. But he was cold from inside - everything
that wasn't a throbbing mess was cold. "How much
time do you have? I'm on patrol, officially."
have as much time as I want." Not quite, but it
felt like it. "Your patrol, how much time is that?"
Dan went back to his bergan, sat down once more and
sipped the strong, hot liquid, glancing over. That man
was shivering, even trembling with cold. Body heat,
aye, he could do that. Just not like faggots did.
few weeks. Map will help explain what I did. As long
as I make up good story for each day, I am safe, but
I need to cover distance, will be expected to be at
somewhere, eventually." Remember to keep
things vague, Vadim. "Will have to march faster."
Yeah, beaten up and fucked like you are, Vadim thought.
Couldn't get warm. Think warm thoughts, yeah, how fucking
funny. He just hoped he hadn't caught something, an
illness, a fever, hoped it was just the body's response
to the bruises. He'd kill to be able to sweat it out
in a sauna.
sneered, "In your state? You'd make a great Oympionite,
as fucked up as you are." Steadily working on his
tea, he welcomed the caffeine buzz and the honey was
exactly what he needed. Sugar-rush, he'd never get enough
drank more tea, then settled on the ground, almost curled
around the fire. He didn't care. Couldn't care. It was
getting warmer, he was starting to sweat, but there
was still cold, too much of it. Sleep it out, he thought.
shook his head after a few minutes, finished his tea
and stood up unceremoniously. "Faggoty or not,
you look like shit and you're going to kill yourself
in the mountains if you don't get back in shape. Who
would I fuck with, then?" Nodding towards the cave
and the pile of blankets. "Want to get warm? Come
forced his body up, took the blanket, gathered his bergan,
more dragging than carrying it, but that was where knife
and gun were, and followed the other. Dan never looked
back, but stopped near the entrance, waiting for him
to get settled. Dazed, Vadim wondered about the closeness,
the proximity, and whether the other would fuck him
for it. Not much he could do about it, not in his state,
but he couldn't allow it, not when the Brit was in control.
He lay down, laboriously, face turned towards the open
space, bergan under his head, blanket around his shoulders,
legs pulled up. Who would I fuck with, then.
was still standing, still watching, and still debating
a few things that he figured he shouldn't want nor like
and sure as fuck not actually do. But this was about
survival, and what if the Russkie died? Not easy to
find another fuck in this place. The Afghan mountains
weren't really a teeming market of willing male flesh.
"Right, then." He dragged his own bergan close,
set it behind the other's head. As good a pillow as
any. Getting down onto his knees, he pulled the second
blanket close and wrapped it around himself before shuffling
behind the Russian, figuring it wouldn't do any good
if he stayed too far away.
ended up so close, his entire front was pressed against
Vadim's back, the blankets tightly around them. "What
the fuck am I going to do with my arms, now?" Dan
muttered, awkward, there wasn't any way he could rest
his arm except on the other man. Shit, that looked and
felt to all intents and purposes like cuddling after
all. "Whatever." Muttered again, dropped his
hand on Vadim's flank.
eyelids, too heavy, opened when the hand came to rest
there. His arm was under his head, the other crossed
in front of his chest, minimising surface. The other
body felt warm, and was too close, too much like sex.
Too much like forcing him to turn onto his stomach,
spread his legs and fuck him again. No. He'd said he
was too tired for it. The cold slowly subsided, his
aching muscles relaxing, and the dizziness and throbbing
remained, but it worked already. Body against body.
Platon. Not dangerous. Katya. Not about sex. He forced
himself to breathe slowly, deeply, counting his breath.
volunteering for any watch", he
murmured, feeling relaxed enough to begin drifting off
to sleep. His body demanded the rest. He healed best
with plenty of rest. He had enough sense to reach and
find his knife in the open bergan, and pull it close
to his chest. Just in case. Just for anybody surprising
him in his sleep.
sniggered, shook his head in the confines of that odd
embrace. "No, I can see you're too fucked, and
it's definitely not the good kind." Shuffling even
closer, eyes fixed on the back of the neck. Murmuring
into the other's ear, lips tickled by short shaved hair,
"And for that knife, if I really wanted to kill
you, you'd be dead before you could even wield it."
A rumbled chuckle.
was awake again. Breath against his ear did that. Staring
straight ahead. The body. The heat. Liked it too much.
Couldn't even think the word sleep now. Too intense.
"You believe that, but I have good chance to kill
you, too, before I'm dead." As long as there's
no gun involved. Hand to hand, knife to knife. A moment
of intense claustrophobia. Trapped. Dan was about to
say something, an aborted sound from his throat, when
Vadim half-turned to face him. "Don't believe just
because you fucked me means I'm losing my pride. Not
happening. I'm spetsnaz, never forget I can kill you."
Hoped he sounded calm, neutral.
What the fuck are you on about, Russkie. You having
a chip on your shoulder a mile wide?"
swallowed the words, something about not taking insults,
then realized, yes, he was tense about it, pride wounded,
and he was irrational in that state. At least he was
warmer now. Still, he kept misreading banter for aggression.
"If you think so."
frowned, the other's face so close the sharply cut features
were blurred. "Just shut the fuck up already and
get some sleep. You'd be fucking useless in your state
against me. You want to start being a cry-baby about
the fucking? Doesn't suit you." He patted the hip,
exhaled exasperatedly, "Get some sleep, spetsnaz.
SAS is taking the watch."
much, much better. Not 'Russian cunt', not 'faggot',
or 'bitch', or 'suka'. Spetsnaz. It was a glaring contrast
to what they were doing, but it was acknowledging the
other's regimental pride. SAS is taking the watch.
No violence. No unpleasant surprises. Two soldiers,
nothing more. "Yeah. Good night, comrade."
He turned around again, settled back on his arm and
inhaled deeply, counting his breath till he could fall
couldn't quite pinpoint when he'd fallen into a snooze,
but it must have happened sometime between morning and
noon, because the heat of the sun woke him. That, and
discomfort of having lain in the same position for too
long. Sun, heat, and a body pressed against his own.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the back of the other's
neck, about an inch before his face. Burnt skin, tanned
deeper than the pale-skinned Russkie was ever meant
to be; shaved hair, straw-coloured, sun-bleached stubble
growing up the back of the head. Dan blinked, shifted
slightly, brought his face even closer. That scent.
Damn, he wanted to bury his nose into the scent of sun,
heat, skin and man. Tasting the sweat and biting the
did nothing. Just blinked again. One thing to fuck a
man - another to kiss his neck.
had slept like the dead, had dived deep, deep into leaden
water and wouldn't have minded not waking up. But he
still woke up, felt sore, but alive, awake, felt the
other's breath. He reached lazily down to scratch his
stomach, glanced back at Dan, wondered something, wondered
if there was more sex in it for him, fuck his pride,
it was an opportunity. He moved back against the body,
bridging a gap that wouldn't have allowed a fist to
move between them, back against chest, ass against groin,
legs against legs. Maximising heat. Get the most out
of the time they had.
would work better if I weren't dressed." Dan delivered
his dry remark in a low, raspy voice. Still wondering
when he had slipped from taking watch to taking 40 winks.
His hand moved. Slow, lazy, creating a snake-like pattern
up and across the other's chest.
reminds me." Vadim smirked at that, his own hands
moving to his trousers, opening them, fuck, for the
other, pulling them down over his hips, baring his body
down to his thighs.
eyes grew wide, and still he did nothing. Just moving
his own body with the other's when necessary. The Russkie
hadn't just pulled his combats down, had he? Wasn't
right now wiggling his naked arse against his groin?
Dan's hand flattened on the other's chest, resting between
reached behind him, slid the flat hand against Dan's
groin, tracing the bulge inside the BDUs. Yes. There
was definitely another round in it for him.
Dan inhaled, forgot to exhale again. The crazy bastard
was doing exactly what Dan thought he was doing. Remembering
to breathe, but his rumbling voice had a strange new
tone to it. "I take it you want to get fucked."
No. Fuck. Why not simply do it, why talk? Why make him
aware that he was offering, offering like a bitch in
the barracks. No. Never that. Vadim's hand tightened
on Dan's cock, and he glanced over his shoulder into
those dark eyes. "I can see how you made special
forces. You're one quick thinker."
ha, very funny." Dan grumbled, for no longer than
half a second. That hand on his cock spoke a language
which made him lose his own.
grinned, needed to stay playful, taunting, banter, banter
was not aggression. He stretched his neck, and gave
a smile, at the same time squeezing the other's cock,
froze. Whatthefuck? That smile, that wasn't planned
nor programmed and sure as hell didn't belong into their
little arrangement of insanity. "Not sure what
" murmured, staring at that smile,
slowly deciphering what the hell that smile meant, and
ending up with cryptic messages all over his brain.
No sneering, no smirking, no threats and no anger. Just
a smile. Holy fuck. "But whatever that is, I can
" he twisted his hips further
into the hand, voice no more than a murmur, "it's
exactly the right way to get it."
laughed, felt the other's body obey his touch. He turned
around, to have a second hand, and pulled the belt open,
opened the buttons to free the other's cock, growing
fully hard under a bit more squeezing. Wrapping his
hand around it, he looked into the other's eyes, touch
firm, tight, his own body ready, wounded and beaten
up, but ready. "I wouldn't mind repetition",
he murmured in English. Couldn't, wouldn't say 'fuck
me', that was Gavriil stuff, even though he could feel
the tension inside, wanted cock, wanted the other pounding
into him. Shit. One taste of it, and he was hooked all
said nothing for a moment, didn't even move. Like a
beetle not quite on his back but just as helpless with
that hand around his cock and a promise of a repeat
of the mind-blowing sensation of fucking a body that
could take as much of his cock as it could take of his
fists. Breathed in, slowly out, then suddenly, "Where
the fuck's the gun oil."
reached for his bergan, found the gun kit, fiddled with
it one-handed, found the bottle, opened it with teeth
and hand, poured some oil into his palm and opened his
legs, pushed two oiled fingers inside, then glanced
at Dan, curious what he'd see in that moment, and what
he saw was breathlessness and eyes that had grown even
darker. A face, betraying with shallow breaths and parted
lips that Vadim's actions reached deeper, touched lust,
and released want.
pulled his fingers out, took more oil, slower now, more
deliberate, and again pushed the fingers inside, but
slower, almost sensuous, felt a stab of lust, and smiled,
running that slicked hand over his own cock, making
was undone. Lips moving, no sense nor sound. Hard, harder
and wanting, more. Had never seen anything so arousing.
No pussy, no gyrating hips, no bouncing tits; nothing
and no one before had got into his mind and cock so
hell." Dan murmured, voice shaking, hand trembling,
cock jumping against his belly. "Want to watch."
Hand moved, covered the other man's, both hands on Vadim's
cock. "Want to watch you fuck yourself." Pleading,
begging, more, fuck, more of this, this
mad thing. Man. This something that turned him on like
Spetsnaz. Special Forces. Killer. Sniper. Enemy. And
suddenly couldn't breathe. Being taken up on the tease.
He'd done this, sometimes, pretended it was one of his
few lovers. Masseur. Hungarian fencer. Increased his
own need when a normal jerking-off couldn't take off
the spike. But he needed to be safe to do this.
was safe to do this, Vadim realized, and it was another
shock. It wasn't safe, nothing about this man was safe.
Hand on his cock. The need in those dark eyes. He had
his hooks firmly in this man, finally in his mind, reduced
him to begging. Almost better than having him beg for
his cock - but not quite. He moved slower, focused on
the pleasure more than the oil, how his body reacted,
the tensing of muscles, breath going harder, but still
sounds from Dan either. Nothing but accelerated breathing,
harsher, louder, and the blood in his ears, as deafening
as the echo of a shot in a cave. He took his hand away
from the other's cock, minimising the touch to maximise
the effect on his other senses. Smell; gun oil. Sight;
the Russian's flushed skin, moving hand, oil-slicked
fingers. Vanishing inside the body, creating reaction,
and action. Sound; silence.
eyes half-closed, still looking at the other, reading
the desire on Dan's features, which made him grin, and
increase the speed, fingers rubbing the place that made
his cock jump and his balls go heavy, the feeling going
up to his throat, making his heart pound. Silent. Couldn't
allow sounds. Wanted cock. Wanted the pounding, body
against body, wanted the strength. Wouldn't ask for
it, swallowed dryly, face twitching with what he felt,
lips open, body moving against the pleasure, an instinct
more than trying for a good show. Not like Gavriil.
He was in control.
eyes moved from hand to face, fell onto the heavy balls,
glistening cock. Darkly flushed, hard. Hard. Fucking
loved that hardness. The sight. The taste. Eyes moved
back up to the face that expressed more than the other
or cock." Three words. Intention clear. Dan's hand
on his own cock, stroking. Would come sucking; or come
thought Vadim, feeling coherence slipping away, watching
the other touch himself, kicked off the camo trousers
to get rid of the last bit of uniform, now the only
thing that was still Red Army was the pair of dog tags.
"Cock. No hand. Can't
Hoping the other would suck him off and finish it, after
giving him a good pounding. He pulled his fingers free,
body shivering in the cold and shuddering with need,
and was about to turn to get on hands and knees.
Dan moved, quick, his free hand coming to still the
movement. "Stay." For what? Not clear, just
felt, not knowing. That face, watching every twitch,
hear the breath, see the sweat and how the pale blue
eyes darkened, it was fucking erotic. No, hot. Horny.
Lust. Erotic was for pussies.
paused, not sure what to expect, but remained on his
back, knees open, legs bent, idly stroking himself,
one elbow supporting his weight, his slicked up hand
pulled the foreskin to cover the tip, as he watched
Dan get to his knees, placing one hand flat on his chest,
pushing backwards, and Vadim relaxed on the ground,
had never fucked a girl's arse other than from behind.
But that face. Had to watch that face.
knees up, thought Vadim. The way Vanya liked guys, on
their backs. Had liked. Gavriil liked that position,
and that was the reason why he rarely ended up in it.
Had ended up. Vadim smirked at the other's cluelessness.
"That works. Fucking strain on lower back, but
know, arsehole." Dan's breathless voice was raspy,
dark. Flashed a grin, let go of his cock, took the other's
legs, pushed them upwards. "You'll just have to
manage." Barely more than murmured.
guess", murmured Vadim with a half-grin.
body. Laid out, massive, beaten and bruised but still
impressive. Muscled and sharply angled. Like his own
- yet different. Smooth. Dan knelt, stared, the other's
body open, vulnerable, but never defenceless. Sharp
intake of breath, then moved between the open legs,
that arse was oil slicked, didn't need any for his cock,
and guided himself. Wanted to ram, punish, force, brutal,
but shook his head. Fuck, no. Held back, right there,
in breach of the muscle, stalled, minute push forward,
hands formed fists - slow. Slow. Control. Slipping.
No way to move against that, too much weight held him
there, his own, and Dan's. The heat invading, crawling
in, heat and size.
the Russian's body shudder, Dan raised his head back
up to meet the other's eyes, wide and gleaming with
need. Smirked. "Thank fuck you're no girl."
observation intrigued Vadim, and speaking meant he could
mask the groan. "Why's that?"
bared his teeth in a feral grin, said nothing, pushed
forward hard, entered the body, tight, heat, groaning
pushed up towards his chest, Vadim could do nothing
but take the force, no burning, no pain, instead, unclouded,
unmixed lust, pure and simple, no fear, no guilt, that
cock nothing but his fingers in a different way. In
control. Wanted this, kept wanting this, and the other
just delivered, lust, desire, need, and Vadim's lips
opened, the groan did escape, felt too good.
and tightness, fucking that body again. Dan felt lust
and aggression, not hatred. Needed too much, wanted.
Greed. Body. Man. Hand gripping the other's shoulder,
fingers digging into bone and muscle, the other finding
leverage on the ground. Knees protesting on hard stone,
but the pain just added that kick. Stared at Vadim's
face, eyes, facial expression, mouth, always drawn back
to those lips. Parted, panting. Fucking wild, hard,
with vicious lust. Dan groaned, sweat running from his
neck and chest, dripping onto the other's body. Fuck.
Fuck this was it, harder, faster, more and more, clenching
his teeth or he'd let out sounds of greed and too much
Not close enough. Vadim neared the edge, caught up in
the sensations, strength, more, just as he liked it,
more brutal than any of his lovers, they had been gentle,
because he was young, and inexperienced, then, or they
had not been not strong enough to test his body like
this. How ironic to find it with the enemy. Finally
closed his eyes, let go, control, thoughts, whatever,
felt the force wash through him and into him, felt the
other come, hard, and couldn't join him there, on the
brink, where he'd wanted to be, now needed to get further.
was panting, dizzy, short-changed of oxygen and shuddering
with lingering sensations. That fucker was addictive.
That body, not any body. Male. Goddamned male and more
beyond. Brutal, violent, killer, soldier, enemy, and
the best cunt he'd ever had. His mind blown to pieces
by the paradox. Strength and passiveness; power and
taking it up the arse. He couldn't get his mind around
it. To have possessed that man. That bastard.
felt Dan's sweaty body against his legs, his shoulder,
hands, force, cock, still inside, panting, weakened,
not in control, his, his in so many ways right now,
then Vadim began to push him off with his legs. "I'd
Licking sweat off his upper lip, Dan raised his head.
Took a second to get clued on, then nodded, slipped
free from the tight heat, softening, and feeling pathetically
bereft. Like an addict, on cold turkey immediately after
the last shot.
on his knees, Dan shuffled backwards, twisted, lowered
his head, stared at the weeping cock and could feel
the greed for the taste in the back of his throat. Loved
that cock. Cocks. "Cocksucker." Murmured,
smirked, then pushed his head down and as much of the
full length down into his throat as he could. As ruthless
in sucking that cock as he had been in fucking that
grinned at the other's self-deprecation. If he got a
kick out of it to think that of himself. Fine. It only
took him that - the sight of how his cock vanished between
the other's lips, the expression of willingness and
concentration, heat and tightness, and he came, like
a switch had been flicked, that fast, sensation splitting
him from groin to brain, shooting down the other's throat,
willing, welcoming, wanting this.
reflex was to swallow, too deep down his throat, he'd
hardly been prepared when Vadim came. Almost choked,
but got it this time. Swallowed, quickly, a couple of
times, then moved up, licking along the shaft, lingering
to lap the cock dry. He lifted his head, smirking and
watched the Russkie pant, spaced out. "As I said,
cocksucker." Grinning smugly before reaching for
his nearby bergan, had a pre-rolled fag stashed somewhere.
Didn't bother to pull his camo trousers back up, should
give himself a wash in a moment.
Vadim could breathe again. With that, thought returned.
Amazing. Great sex. Fucked up to find this here, under
these circumstances, with the most unlikely person in
the world. He rested back, regarded the Brit, sated
and heavy as the anaconda. "What did you mean?
About girl?" Lazy curiosity.
found the cigarette, lighting it, sitting with knees
close to his body, trousers tangled on knee height.
"Girls want the big show, the lies." Taking
a drag, he grinned, exhaling smoke with his next words.
"That, and they're too fucking fragile, but I told
you that yesterday."
nodded, rested back on his arms, stretched out, warm,
relaxed enough to fall asleep. "Yeah. I can't try
and put ring on your finger just because we had some
fun." He glanced up, about to continue that train
of thought, joke about women starting to cling and clutch
after a night, but the joke died in his throat. Firstly,
Katya had done nothing like that, and secondly, he didn't
want to pursue that thought.
sneered. "And you can't get pregnant. That's a
bloody good bonus." Smoking his fag, focussed.
He didn't have much tobacco left, hated to be hung out
and dry. "Besides, that ring shit? I swore when
I joined up never to marry. Damned bloodsucking bitches.
Shag a guy, whine long enough till he's stupid enough
to marry her, then whinge and bicker and bitch until
fucking off, having fucked themselves through the entire
camp, from senior ranks down to juniors, and finally
take him to the cleaners." Baring his teeth again,
mixture of smirk and sneer with added frown. "I
fucking hate those bitches."
smirked. "That must have been tough. Hating them,
and still chasing skirts."
rolled his eyes, muttered something about having no
idea how bloody annoying it was.
yawned, reached for the blanket and pulled it up to
cover himself. Too sluggish to think about cleaning
up or anything. He'd do that after he'd rested. "My
is very different. She made decision, she
protects me. I'm officer, I need to appear normal."
brows rose. "You sound like a wuss to me."
assumed a 'wuss' was a weakling. Couldn't know, and
wouldn't ask. "You have noteworthy talent to cut
short conversations before they happen."
Dan looked down at his bare feet, starting to feel the
cold but ignoring it. Realised while watching the cigarette
burn to a stub that even for his standards he'd been
an arse. "OK, different tack. How the fuck have
you been getting away with being a fag anyway? I'd be
chucked out, dishonourable discharge, if they'd know
I'm shagging a man."
homosexualist is illegal. I'm breaking law. I'd end
up in prison, and definitely in my rank. Not high enough
to weasel through, not low enough to not make example
of me." Nevermind the Vympel machismo, or the fact
Vadim was technically KGB. "I've fooled them. I
fooled their assessments, questions, and I married.
Two children. Beautiful wife."
the cigarette out on the rock beside him, Dan looked
at the other questioningly. "Then tell me, how
the hell do you get away with fucking in the barracks?"
can't speak about it. They don't want to be known as
guys who took it up the ass. It would mean the others
would do same. Do you know what 'grandfathers' are?
Their word is law. In addition to that, I'm officer.
They can't touch me." Vanya, who had learnt the
rules quickly, and enjoyed it, Platon, whom he had actually
protected. Gavriil, whom he'd kept out of the worst.
And struggling bodies pressed into the mattress. Dozens
eyes were darkening with every word, brows drawing together,
body tensing. "I know grandfathers. I studied your
goddamned glorious Red Army. You're my fucking enemy,
I had. Vadim inhaled deeply. But no way to escape the
truth. Only that the truth was more complicated. But
how to explain?
stood up abruptly, trousers falling down to his ankles,
stepping out of them. He turned round, presenting his
back while walking to the fire. Swallowed his words.
Anger. Disgust. And the accusation that the Russkie
was nothing but an institutionalised rapist. "Bastard."
Under his breath while busying himself with water and
rag. Washing. Washing the bastard off himself; the rapist
whose arse he'd just had. "What a fucking farce."
Dan murmured to himself.
thought he should lie. Should profess guilt. One victim
that had become more than a struggling body in the night.
He ruined it every time, Vadim thought, watching the
other, anger in every motion. You're spetsnaz. What's
a little violence there? I can't change the system.
I need a way to get off without ending in prison. He
wouldn't tell him about Platon. It was still too close.
Gavriil didn't matter. With Vanya, too, it had been
different. Vadim tried to push it away and sleep, but
it didn't work. The other's resentment itched.
finished, shivered, being damp in the cave was too bloody
cold. Cold, magic word. What was he going to do, sleep
with the enemy, cuddle up with a raping bastard or freeze
his balls off? He shook his head, looked for the food
instead. Didn't glance over to where the Russian lay
in silence. "I got beef jerky and dried fruits.
You should eat. Still look like shit."
and ignoring. Pretending. Had worked with the British
Empire for centuries, why not for one Daniel McFadyen.
sighed, slipped into his boots, got up, kept the blanket
about himself, and came to the fire. "I guess I
should eat", he echoed, sat down on a flat stone
and stared into the fire, then poured some tea into
the other's mug and sipped. It still itched.
stood, naked, bare feet freezing on the rocks and pondering
if he should give up being a hard man and just get himself
some clothes, when Vadim spoke.
guy. He's into men. Was my driver for few months. Kept
him out of trouble." Vadim kept his eyes on the
dark surface of the tea.
stopped in mid motion while dishing out food, glanced
over. Finally looking at the other man. "What about
need for violence. No other grandfather for that one.
He was lucky. Safer option for me, too. Just in case."
Vadim looked up. Hope for - what? Absolution? Understanding?
he was your whore. Aye?" Dan started to move again,
finished putting food on a tin platter, shoved it over
to the other, right under Vadim's nose. He was freezing,
obviously so, but he'd be buggered if he was going to
do anything about it right now. "And that makes
your glorious Soviet Union 'glorious' exactly, how?"
took the plate, looked at Dan's chest, then higher.
Wanted to offer the blanket, or a place on the stone.
"State has nothing to do with it." He offered
the steaming mug after another sip.
Swapping plate with mug, Dan cradled the hot vessel
after taking a sip. "It's the state that makes
the laws." Frowning, glancing around. One blanket,
and that one blanket was draped over the other. Fuck.
Still standing. "I don't know the full extend of
the law in Britain, just that fucking with a man gets
me discharged. Shagging an enemy? Holy fuck, I'd end
up court marshalled."
end up with bullet to my neck. Resisting arrest. Job
hazard." Shit. Given too much away. KGB would clean
house, after the torture, of course.
froze, thinking. Took a large gulp of the tea, letting
the steamy bitterness replace a different acid inside.
set the plate down, then stood, pulled the blanket off
his shoulders and placed it around Dan's shoulders,
who was looking at him with ill disguised surprise.
"Guess, we're both fucked. Better make it worthwhile,
Dan nodded. "Guess I'm the lucky one between us."
He took one corner of the blanket with his free hand,
lifted it and gestured with his chin to the other. "One
blanket. Cold cave. Two men. Both doomed. Best share
smiled. "Yeah, let's do poof thing." He gave
a laugh, Dan let out a snort, but Vadim turned serious
when he picked up his food. "You know, it doesn't
mean we're doomed. They won't get me alive. And you're
safe unless you do something that they can prove."
shrugged, walked back towards the make-shift bed with
a packet of nuts, the refilled mug of tea, and sat down,
wrapped in the blanket, leaving one half free.
moved back to the cave as well, ate a few bites on the
way, set the plate down and waited for the other to
lift the blanket.
on then, poof. No point in freezing our arses off."
Dan flashed a smirk, "I rather like that arse of
yours. Especially with something in it."
Shit-stabbing ain't so bad, huh?" Vadim grinned
and sat down, leaning against his bergan, covered his
legs and abs with the blanket and put the plate onto
his knees. Chewing, he murmured "I'll be sore as
fuck in couple days."
the beating or the fucking?" Dan picked some fruit,
pushing them between his teeth, mixed with the jerky.
The heat from the other was welcome. "In the case
of the latter I suggest to make it worthwhile."
nodded and swallowed a bite. "I'd almost forgotten
beating. Not important. Usual stuff." He waved
it off. "Ah. More worthwhile? I already thought
you performed quite nicely."
swallowed and grinned, washing the food down with some
tea. "Well, I guess I got the jackpot. I get to
fuck arse and suck cock. What else could a man want?"
He let out a short stab of laughter before getting more
of the food down his neck.
grinned. No need to set the other on edge with indicating
that getting fucked was just as nice. "What else
indeed." He smirked, manoeuvred a bit of dried
peel from between his teeth. "Shit, I guess, I'll
always remember this war for strange Brit I met. Limey.
Tommy. You're strange man, Dan. You know that?"
Dan huffed, swirled the tea in the glass. "I'm
not strange. I'm so fucking normal I make the Kremlin
seem like a space ship."
smirked again. "Little grey men? Damn. That's what
they are. Aliens."
couldn't help it, he laughed. Not the manic one, the
but a full-out belly laughter, almost spilling the rest
of the tea. "Didn't know you could do humour, Russkie."
laughed, too. From sex to anger to laughter. That man
made his head spin. "You haven't seen Brezhnev.
Or Andropov. Or other old men."
handed the mug over, fished some more fruit from the
rapidly emptying plate. "Thinking about it, I guess
Mrs Thatcher is a fucking alien as well, and the whole
British government to boot."
smirked. "Can't say I follow your news much, but
I take your word for it. Her hairstyle is clearly designed
to withstand falling a-bomb blast."
was it, Dan didn't need anymore than that and he burst
into laughter, laughing so hard he choked on some of
the food he had just shoved into his gob. Coughing,
spluttering, doubled over and still laughing, like a
far too grown-up kid who'd just read the stupidest joke
on a Penguin chocolate bar. "Oh fuck." Barely
able to bring out the words, coughing, "The more
their hair's like a helmet, the more upper class they
to know, in case I travel there. People that are dangerous
are ones with kilo of hairspray."
over with another coughing fit, Dan's eyes were watering
from it all, and Vadim slapped him between the shoulder
blades. "And your Brezhnev looks like a carp."
Dan was opening and closing his mouth, breathing like
Eyebrowness?" Vadim held up a finger. "There's
joke I heard. Goes like this: "Glorious Soviet
leaders Stalin, Khrushchev and Brezhnev are traveling
by train. Suddenly, train grinds to halt. Stalin is
first to try solve problem. He orders that engine driver
be shot for sabotage and he deports co-driver to Siberia.
Train doesn't move. Then it's Khrushchev's attempt.
He brings co-driver back from Siberia and tells him,
"You've been away for long time, but try to remember
which controls do what." Engine driver can't and
train doesn't move. Then, third, Brezhnev tries. He
orders that all blinds be drawn across windows and that
passengers start rocking back and forth in their seats-
so train feels like moving." Which was a pretty
accurate snap shot of the political situation, come
to think of it.
snorted, wiping his eyes, the laughter was turning into
a grin. "If you continue like this you'll have
to provide some vodka to keep me from choking."
no vodka. I was travelling light. Next time, yes?"
moved closer, unthinking, seeking body warmth. "While
we're at it, a personal question." Out of the blue
and delivered with a bared-tooth grin. "Do all
Russkies have no body hair?"
paused, then grinned. "Only ones that don't like
it and can get enough razor blades to keep smooth. From
my swimming days. And it's more hygienic."
no, you'd never get me to do that." Dan was running
a hand over his sparsely haired chest, then down along
his thigh. Dark hair, not a bear, but definitely hairy.
"I'm a bloke, blokes are supposed to be hairy."
snorted. He really preferred it that way, even the hair
on his head was only a concession to the military style,
but the sides of his scalp and his neck were shaved,
definitely the face. More hygienic, certainly that.
finished off the last bit of beef, chewing while glancing
sideways. "Not saying it doesn't feel good, though."
Said too much, rolled his eyes, hid the discomfort behind
a boisterous smirk. "You're as smooth as pussy,
but with a cock and muscles. Suits me well."
pussy?" Vadim laughed. "You haven't seen aunt
Olga." There was no aunt Olga, of course. "But
then, she doesn't qualify as pussy anyway. Maybe forty
than pussy and definitely better than your aunt Olga."
Dan waggled his brows, felt a strange sense of ease,
wondered if he shouldn't be wanting to bash the fucker's
head in. Enemy and all that. Russkie. Bad man. Killer.
Shit like that.
insulting my aunt Olga?" asked Vadim, mock-serious.
shrugged, grinned. "Skin, I mean. Girls have soft,
smooth skin. They do that powdering and perfume shit,
can't stand that, but their skin feels good."
smirked. Ah, hard training, hours and hours of swimming,
sauna, oiling the body, resting in warm towels, sweating,
washing again. They had treated him the best and he
had looked the best in Montreal. Anoushka's skin. Porcelain
complexion, pores so small they were invisible. He shouldn't
think of his daughter, not in the mountains, not in
started to stretch, closed his eyes and prodded the
other's ribs to make him lie down. A soldier could never
get enough sleep when they had the chance. "Yours
thing to compliment him on, but Vadim smiled, oddly
affection? He laid
back, head resting against the bergan, thoughtful. One
of them should keep watch. But then, it was really,
highly unlikely they would be found, asleep. What if?
What if the Mujas showed up? Vadim checked his pistol
and kept it between their bergans that served as pillows.
me when it's time to fuck you again." Dan grinned,
closed his eyes. Strangely relaxed. It could all be
different in a few hours. They were still mortal enemies
and he didn't trust the Russkie from blanket to cave
mouth. But now, now it was time to rest, and what better
than to rest in safety and warmth. If they were to kill
each other, they'd better wait till the morning.
smiled, wanted to run fingers through the tousled mess
of hair, to feel what the forehead felt like, and formed
a fist instead. No. Too risky. Right after sex, maybe
right before sex, but not now. It would bleed the relaxation
out of this man, faster than a bullet wound.
spied the round scar on Dan's shoulder, the scar that
belonged to the gun that was just a breath away. He
leaned against the bergan, close enough to the other
to be warm, awake enough to guard, to look out at the
stars, the impossible deep dark blue of the Afghan sky.
Maybe another day. Maybe two, even three. He needed
to take what he could. He had nothing to squander.