eyes_adrift: (long hair)
[personal profile] eyes_adrift
I feel like I almost don't know Leshovik anymore.

The last time we were together he was acting weird. We fucked in the shower, but then he took off almost immediately afterward, mumbling something about going to find Lynx. He didn't look me in the eye when he left, like he didn't want to talk to me.

Like he didn't want anything to do with me.

He never came back to the room, either.

The past few days have been...weird. A lot of stuff has been changing, all at once, it seems like. Me and Lynx. Me and Leshovik. Me and Lynx and Leshovik. And now, Kasya. My father. It still seems unreal to me.

I feel restless, but like I don't know what I want, either. I'm not sure what to do.

Maybe I'll take a walk outside and try to figure it out.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Like his namesake, Aryol had found a perch. It wasn't much of one, really - not a proper sniper perch - but he sat on the window ledge anyway, urban camo field jacket buttoned snugly around his torso, legs resting along the window in front of him, breath misting in the air.

The ledge sat barely two meters up the wall and looked in on the main wing lobby, which was dark. Aryol blended into the architecture, which amused him in a distant way, especially because a guard patrol had walked right past him earlier. Hadn't noticed a thing.

It was late. Maybe 000 hours, maybe earlier. He hadn't looked at the time when he'd come outside into the clear, cold night, restless and unable to sleep.

He was thinking about Leshovik.

Leshovik hadn't come back to their room, not since that afternoon. After they'd fucked in the shower, the sniper had muttered something about going to see Lynx, then had just left, like he was pissed again.

Aryol didn't have a whole lot of sympathy for Leshovik's mood swings anymore, but still, Leshovik had been acting strangely. More distant, always like there was something just on the tip of his tongue that he was holding back.

And now Leshovik was nowhere to be found, or at least not-here. Aryol knew if he really tried he could find him, but at the same time, he almost didn't know if he wanted to. At least not right now.

What being alone did mean was that Aryol couldn't sleep. After three years of sleeping with Leshovik almost every night, having no one in the bed with him was...distracting. Noticeable. And Aryol tended to sleep for shit anyway, if he didn't fuck before going to bed.

Usually, Leshovik was happy to oblige.

Aryol frowned, and let out a sigh that trailed mist in the air in front of him. Maybe it was about to time to head back inside anyway, and try again to get a little sleep.

Just then, the door to the main wing opened, and a man came out.

Aryol held still, moving only his gaze, tracking the man's movements. Not Leshovik, he recognized, instantly, but someone else, not a soldier either, just a man clad in a long grey coat.

He watched him, blackly amused, wondering if this one would walk right by and miss him, too.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Liadov was relatively favorable as he strolled into the yard, forsaking the halo of the Main Wing's lambent glow, for the dim radiance of midwinter midnight.

His evening had been considerably lightened by a little company of the intellectual kind, and he had Rakitin to thank for that, and his hospitality.

Polya was a good comrade. Friendly, with a disarming guilessness and a good sense of humor. Liadov liked working with him. Liked his general mien. Gentle, unassuming. He was a decent man, and that was exactly why Nika always kept the gloves on.

Liadov had needs decent men would never understand, even in theory, and shouldn't be asked to.

And despite the fact that the liquor had mellowed him nicely, the urge to burn was strong.

He wasn't melancholic. Vodka didn't make him lament or brood. But he was hungry for things he couldn't even admit, much less speak aloud.

Talking took the edge off. Drinking took the edge off. But nothing changed the fact that he was in Tselinoyarsk, and Isaev was not.

Well, in a manner of speaking, he was. That only made it worse.

Nika reached into his pocket and pulled out his flask.

The tiny swirling stars of crystal snow that kissed his brow were poetry to watch, and he did, raising his gaze as he sipped.

Realizing there was a man, looking down at him, sprawled on the window ledge.

Liadov studied him at a glance, swallowing the colorless flame.

Nika's eyes were lucid beneath the rim of his grey ushanka, the two intercessed only by a soft sweep of fawn-colored hair.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol smiled, faintly, slowly.

He was only a shadow in the window, and yet the man had noticed him with the ease of a well-trained spotter. A bit more impressive than the guards who were supposedly keeping the base safe from, oh, snipers and assassins.

Aryol wondered who the man was, this clear-eyed, solitary lurker haunting the night, drinking alone, regarding him with a pale, even stare.

The man hadn't even flinched when he'd caught sight of Aryol up on the ledge. Most people would have at least twitched or cursed softly.

That impressed him too.

The man had locks of golden hair curling across his forehead and a youthful cast to his face, though he didn't look terribly young - certainly older than Aryol, perhaps Leshovik's age.

It was his eyes, his unflinching stare, that made him seem older. The man had the aura of someone who was not easily intimidated, far too self-possessed to be spooked by a stranger concealed in a window.

Night cast Aryol's face in faint moonlit shadow, edging his features in silver, though as he regarded the man, Aryol's smile slowly grew darker.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Nika lowered the flask, slowly, parting his lips in mild surprise.

The man was young, hair dark and unruly as spilled ink, and though his face was shrouded in shadow, the profile limned against the window betrayed a handsome composition, like a heroic woodcut.

Only his smile showed, in the shaft of moonlight that cut across his mouth.

Liadov knew that smile, though it was the last thing he would have expected to see here.

A slow thundering began in his pulse points, slowly diffusing down in a flush like a flurry of timpani.

Nika raised his eyebrows, slowly, faintly unsmiling but unquestionably agreeable.

He raised the flask and inclined his head in silent, casual offering.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol's jaw tipped up slightly, then he moved with casual grace, levering himself from the ledge, dropping to the ground near-silently.

There was something about the way the man looked at him that stirred an instinct deep inside him, stoked tiny fires that had been flickering idly for years.

It had been a while since he'd captured someone's attention so fully, and he relished the sensation. It recalled the days before he'd met Leshovik, when a lot of men had looked at him and wanted him.

The intensity of Leshovik's stare had been different, and far more complicated.

This was simple.

Aryol walked over to the man and stopped in front of him. He reached out to take the flask, neatly plucking it out of the man's hand with gloved fingertips.

His gloves were kid leather of the softest, finest sort, molding to his hands like second skin. They were not the most ideal for cold weather, but they were perfect for shooting, and fine motor control.

Aryol raised the flask to his lips and took a swallow, holding the stranger's eyes, which up close proved to be a luminous, arresting green.

The flask held vodka, but it burned smoothly down his throat, obviously expensive, and another interesting detail that added to the picture but still told him nothing about the man's identity.

Not that it mattered.

Silently, he extended the flask back to the man in turn.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Liadov studied the stranger's lips, his brow, his dark, deep-set eyes.

He took his flask back and put it to his own lips.

"You're young," he observed, in an undertone.

It was all he said, all he meant to say at the moment. Transactions like these were monosyllabic, brusque.

This man's utter lack of words, coupled with the intense regard of those sulfur-hot eyes, convinced Nika they were on the same page, as far as interest and intentions.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol raised a brow, watching the man.

For most of the men he'd known, his youth had been an asset. But most of those men were older than this man.

Maybe it was different for him. Or maybe the man was giving him a chance to back out, in case he was inexperienced as well as young, and just didn't know what he was doing.

Aryol smiled, darkly amused.

"Does it matter?" he asked, voice low and lightly skeptical.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: "No," said Liadov, without inflection.

He turned his body and his gaze, squaring them both on the soldier.

He wasn't regular GRU.

That meant he was probably Black Ops. The very same squad Rakitin had been gushing over not an hour before.

The idea turned him on.

He slid the flask back into the pocket of his greatcoat and let his eyes move over the soldier's body, slowly, methodically.

Taking him in with a ruthless, practiced gaze. Stripping him bare without touching him.

"I'd like to," he said, finally, raising his sleepless eyes with a languor that belied their intensity.

A pause, and he felt desire mounting.

"If you're game."

He was aware of the unintentional double connotation as he said it.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol's lip curved slightly, no more than a twitch, and he caught and held the man's gaze.

He could feel the pulse of the man's arousal as if it were a live current between them, even though he'd done nothing overt. The man's eyes, his body language, the low husk of his voice, they said it all.

Aryol felt it too, the rush of adrenaline that heightened his senses, turned the night air crackling sharp against his lips and throat, caught the taste of the warm, masculine scent and spun it through him like vodka.

It felt strangely liberating, achingly arousing.

Outwardly, Aryol stood facing the man, his expression set and cool, poised, calmly distant, like a bird of prey.

His dark eyes, though, sharpened with an intent that burned hot and piercing.

"Where?" he asked simply, a single murmured word that said much more.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Nika turned, wordlessly and strode briskly toward the darkened alley between buildings.

He tossed his hair out of his eyes, and cast a brief look over his shoulder.

The soldier should be able to follow an unsubtle hint like that.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol watched the man go for a moment, brows raised, a slow smile tugging at his lips. He followed, but his pace was unhurried, indolent and amused.

He felt the deep, thrumming need for sex but stoked the urgency, letting it lick low flames deep in his belly, letting it suffuse through him. Savoring it, like dessert.

This was something different for him, unexpected and risky. He liked the way it made him feel, barely knowing this man and yet going to have sex with him.

It almost felt like a relief.

The man had disappeared into the alley, swallowed whole, but Aryol followed, finding him easily enough, waiting there, a shape in the darkness.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Liadov took a long, slow breath, inhaling the cool evening air, tempering his lips.

The dark-haired soldier came to him a moment later, the lapse brief, but adding to his anticipation.

Nika didn't hesitate, not now. He moved forward, welcoming the other man, turning into him, shepherding him back against the wall, and pressing in close.

"Kiss me," he breathed, in a low voice.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol's need sharpened to a keen ache and he reached out immediately, gloved hand going to the back of the man's neck, grasping, pulling him forward.

He found the man's mouth in the darkness, and kissed him, hard and brutally, the way Leshovik kissed him sometimes, so consuming he could barely breathe.

All the coiled, unspent, uncertain emotion that had been swirling inside him went into that kiss. He didn't know the man, but took it out on him anyway, tongue aggressively seeking, conquering.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: He'd called this one right.

Liadov's need surged at the raw, rough crush of mouths and he struck a wider stance, driving his hips forward against the soldier's, feeling the hand that cupped his neck, hard and unyielding.

His lips took and reciprocated, tongue curving and stroking to inflame and arouse.

The close brush of stubble, fair against sable, sensual grit.

His cock was erect and hot with pulsing blood beneath the sheltering sleekness of his greatcoat.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol almost hadn't been expecting the man to match him, but instead to break it off and rein him in, placing hands on his shoulders as if to calm an overeager child.

But this man didn't treat him like a child, but rather, as a man. As an equal, the way no one else had. Even Lynx had been indulgent of his needs, instead of meeting them.

It kept him sharp and focused, it whetted his need and kept his kiss savage and unyielding.

The man tasted like a stranger, exotic.

His other hand moved to push aside the man's coat and snake inside, seeking his belt, working it undone one-handedly but deftly.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Nika had similar thoughts, wanting to see what the guy was packing under his dark, nondescript field fatigues. His hands sought the waistband, loosing the buttons and easing the pants down over the soldier's cut and jutting hips, exposing a soft thatch of sable hair and a fairly impressive piece of equipment.

No shorts in special forces, apparently.

Liadov couldn't resist a smile, not entirely hidden by the shadows.

The guy's prick practically leapt into his hand, eager and rigid as a cobra. Nika fisted it without pause, rubbing his thumb firmly over the head, which was beaded with moisture.

Liadov bit his lip luxuriously at the jerk and give of his own buckle, and let his eyes roll closed as his zipper was lowered by unfamiliar hands.

"Suck it, krasivchik," he gritted sweetly, in a velvet undertone. "Get me wet enough to fuck you."

If that wasn't what the young bastard wanted, they could negotiate. No matter. They would both get what they needed, one way or another.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol gave a single, low laugh, both amused and intrigued.

The man seemed to be used to calling the shots, which made Aryol wonder if he was any good at it. Based on the way he kissed, it was entirely possible.

He found himself wanting to find out, wanting to see if the man had what it took.

Aryol had been fucked by a lot of people, and was no longer easily impressed.

He shifted his hand slightly, tangled his fingers in the thick, golden hair at the man's nape, jerking his head back, tilting his chin up.

His lips went to the man's exposed throat, licking and kissing, trailing moisture that would draw cool air, capping it off with the barest graze of teeth across that soft skin, half a caress, half a warning.

In the next moment, he released his grip, then pivoted, forcing the man forward, levering him to the side. He slammed the man back against the wall, hard, made him feel it, forced the breath from his lungs in a sweet gasp of air.

Aryol stepped back for a moment, his hands seeking the hard, pulsing length of the man, pulling it out, curling his gloved fingers around it possessively.

He dropped to his knees in front of the man, seeking hungrily, lips and tongue brutal, sloppy and wet. He took the man deep and sucked him hard, mouth ravenous and punishing.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: He didn't resist the forceful repositioning. Why would he, when it was all part of the dance.

When it was what he wanted.

The soldier's swinging shove sent him slamming into the concrete, back against the wall, hard and succulently unmerciful.

Liadov laughed in the wake of the impact.

Laughed hungrily. Softly.

His fingers eased over the soldier's brow like the tines of a trident, raking back into the dark, brambled locks of hair and seizing tight with tender violence.

Caressing roughly, slowly, as Nika set his boots apart in a wide, indecent stance, ready to receive, and biding time until he would give in return.

It had been weeks. He was eager.

Eager, to touch this stranger all over his most intimate zones and places, feverish to inhabit his most personal recesses.

When the young thug started sucking him off, he swore with unvarnished abandon, though his smoothly modulated voice rendered the ugliest curses indistinguishable at a glance from pretty words.

His hands rubbed and clasped, holding and stroking the dark head that worked him over in an undulating rhythm, and he lowered his eyes, dreamily, watching his cock disappear into the handsome face, quietly impressed. Physically, his body sang like a theremin- humming, resonating louder with every motion.

"I didn't know Spetsnaz dealt in sword swallowers," he intoned, through lips flushed and benign with good will and pleasure.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol continued to suck hard, working him over until the man was thoroughly wet and pulsing.

He slowly pulled back, pausing to tease the head of the man's cock a few more seconds before finally letting him go, trailing saliva, licking his lips, savoring the exotic flavor.

The man had a particular taste to him, bitter and rich like coffee.

He looked up and caught the man's drowsy gaze, his lip curling, faintly wry.

"I'm not Spetsnaz," he murmured, then rose, leaning forward to kiss the man's mouth, letting him taste what Aryol had tasted, though he kept it brief, pulling away again.

He took a step back so the man could get a good look, holding his gaze as he hitched his fatigues down, pivoting his hips to expose the rounded curve of his ass, luminous and smooth in the darkness.

His eyes were dusky, challenging and direct, but he made no other move to oblige the man.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Liadov smiled, a slow, genuine smile, that cracked and shivered softly under its own rarity.

He reached out and let his black-gloved palm fall gently against the soldier's ass, cupping it, caressing over the satin-textured skin with firm, lusty appreciation.

Nika's eyes followed his hand, then traveled upward, sweeping onto the younger man's face.

"You're perfect," he whispered, dulcet. "Just what I needed tonight."

His free hand reached into his pocket and pulled out his MVD-issue handcuffs. The galvanized steel glinted like a hard industrial diamond across the flat of his palm.

The soldier's eyes chased the steel belatedly, as Nika reached out and manacled one of his wrists with a softly resonant click that was like a dull chime in the cold night air, but always smacked of romance to Liadov's damaged soul.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Okei?" he asked.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol's brows lofted as he glanced down at the sliver of steel around his wrist, then he looked back at the man, eyes gleaming with sharp focus.

It followed that any man wanting a hot and dirty tryst in an alley might also be kinky enough to play at bondage, but Aryol savored the sudden insight it gave him. In his experience, the men who liked to restrain him were the ones who needed, for some reason, to feel powerful.

Such a need was not so indiscriminate as lust, but rather ran deep, like a river, crucial to survival. It made men like that hungry, and dangerous.

They had a predator's craving.

He liked the taste of it, full-bodied and sophisticated, though edged with a brutal honesty that excited him.

Adrenaline stoked the fires of his already inflamed passion, and sent a sharp jolt of through his loins, so intense it was painful.

Nodding, he raised his other wrist, silently offering it to the man, his smile turning narrow, and feral.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Such a dirty, pretty smile.

It was somewhere between sweet treacle and hot tar. Nika returned it, fleetingly, languidly, feeling an ease at how well his nature played counterpoint to this man's.

They always smiled, it seemed, these men- when they acquiesced to his captivity. Almost coy, as if it were their pleasure to do it, as if they trusted him purely for his sullen angelitude.

It was somehow the way of the beast, as he had come to know it.

As he always assured their assent, no matter how much they seemed to crave it, no matter how accommodating they appeared at the outset.

Nika caught the soldier's proffered arm lightly and drew it toward him, dipped his head and touched his parted lips to the underside of the man's wrist, raising seductive eyes.

He wondered, briefly, what kind of man wouldn't question the intent of a random non-military officer, capped and jacketed in cryptic grey.

Liadov's eyes caught on an exposed pipe above them, and he spun the soldier around, broad-handing him so that he faced the wall, jerking the man's confined hand above his head slightly.

He looped the chain of the cuff over the pipe and stroked his hand down the soldier's free arm gently, suggestively, before seizing his wrist and pulling it upward to meet the other.

The snick of the second cuff made him shudder as he locked it in, and tightened it down with a slip of his index finger.

Liadov breathed softly onto the man's dark, close-razed nape, trailing his fingers, grazing them down the muscled forearm.

His cock tingled in the cold air, missing the heat of the mouth that had previously harbored it. Still, it remained hard as agate, and ached all over with vicious need.

It nestled in the cleft of the soldier's taut and immaculate ass, insinuating without Nika's consent.

"Do you know something?" he breathed, with a light laugh. "I haven't been this pleased for a hell of a long time, comrade."

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol arched, stretching, testing his bonds. Both the pipe and the cuffs were solid. He could tell own body would give way first.

He found it arousing, not so much that he was trapped and vulnerable, but that the man needed him to be that way, that he was getting off on his dominance. What drove a man like that, what fed that need, he wondered. What made him crave being in control.

A need that strong was like a vulnerability of its own, and Aryol relished being the one who fed it, exerting his own form of power.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, catching the man's heated gaze, his eyes flickering with hedonism, smile curving up slyly.

"Take me as hard as you want," he murmured, grabbing the pipe to lever himself back, swaying, pressing against the man's cock to show he meant it.

He knew he could take whatever this man dished out. This was no grunting, rutting barbarian who would split him apart carelessly, but rather a man of focus and drive and a certain clarity, especially about his own passion.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: "Brave," he murmured, quietly. "But no, I need to feel you...Not just rough and empty friction."

Liadov grasped the soldier's hips with firm care, leaning into his body. His cock wasn't as slick as it ideally could be, so he shifted, rolling his hips steadily, keeping a tension and even pressure along with the slow pulse.

He worked himself inside, and took his time, despite the soldier's clear signals that he could take it high and hard, at any time.

"I believe you," he murmured, stroking the muscled back through the thin dark material of the fatigues. "You've done this not a few times."

He laughed, softly, seeking the man's cock, finding it and teasing it slowly, up and down, with leather-tipped fingers.

"...But that's not how I take strangers. My mother raised me better than that."

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol laughed quietly, picturing the man's mother instructing her son on the politics of fucking strangers.

At the same time, it pleased him, to know that the man savored his art, than in spite of the trappings of savagery, this would be more rarified.

"You only take your friends that way?" he asked, breathless and sly with irony.

He acquiesced to the penetration, arching and pushing back to let himself take the man's cock deeper, shivering at the slowness, savoring the heat inside him.

The rough scrape of leather against his most sensitive skin made him buck involuntarily. His toes curled inside his boots but he was near-silent, only breathing out in a hiss.

Aryol rocked back with a supple, limber arch, encouraging the man's motion.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Nika smiled against the soldier's skin, letting his levity be felt.

It was an absurdly funny thing to say, actually, and he liked the guy for saying it.

Almost as much as he liked his hard-muscled ass, and his nonchalance at the sight of the cuffs.

"Something like that," he replied, amused, and palmed the shaft more completely, stroking up and over the glans. Twisting his wrist artfully, and kissing, suckling along the soldier's salt-dappled neck, savoring the taste of strange flesh, which became more known by the moment. "Although I suppose after this, you'll only be a stranger in name."

Liadov shivered, angling himself to seat squarely in the sweetness, grinding into the gland while fully embedded.

"I could fuck you without ever withdrawing. I like crescendo. Not unceasing bombast. How about you?"

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: "I'll let you know in a few minutes," Aryol murmured, voice low and thick with pleasure.

He arched, relaxing utterly, letting sensation take him, giving himself over to the bliss of the man's slow, deep press inside him.

He let out the softest of moans, barely more than an exhalation of breath.

Aryol couldn't see the stranger behind him, but he could respond to the physical cues, the rocking of his hips, the subtle shifts in balance, the way the man's hand tightened on his cock just before he thrust.

He moved with the man, instinctively matching his rhythm, tightening against his hardness. The stricture of the handcuffs felt strangely freeing, letting him simply luxuriate in the course of their bodies.

The man was entirely different than Lynx, who was the last stranger Aryol had taken inside him. Lynx had been tender and giving, and had fucked Aryol with aching sweetness.

He'd enjoyed it, of course - how could he not, after enduring Leshovik's angry rutting for three years - but even so, he'd gotten the impression that it had been more for Aryol's benefit than Lynx's.

This felt more primal, more about mutual need, and the parity thrilled him.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Liadov felt like weeping with sheer relief, inside, where the lack of release had pent to an unbearable level, forcing him to turn to soft thoughts he normally catharsed without mercy in the willing flesh of anonymous men.

Things he must not think about, inviting concessions he must not make.

But now, all that was gone, he was being bled by this young soldier, dark humors draining from him, the impulse to forgive and re-connect receding once more to a dull and tolerable ache.

He kissed the straining shoulders with grateful abandon, running gentle, almost loving hands along the knots and ribs of the man's suspended torso.

"Thank you, bezvestnyi," he bit out, shivering as his desire mounted and he sank deeper, grinding his hips as low as he could, sheathed entirely in the stranger's spraddled ass, bucking upward in short, intense thrusts, clutching the unfamiliar topography of the soldier's graven chest with his leather clad hand.

"Let's come for each other, anonimnyi," he hissed, against the cove of the brunyet's ear. "For ourselves."

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: There was something beautiful and simple about this, as strange as it had first seemed, and Aryol realized it was a lot like black ops. They brought with them no pasts, no identities, no accountability. Only the moment mattered.

Aryol murmured low in response, a breathless sound of agreement.

His breath came harder and sharper, and he moved more urgently, the intensity of the man's sweet, relentless onslaught sparking deep inside him, every single strike blooming like fire.

Pleasure crested hard, crashed down like an inferno. He shuddered and bucked and came so hard his vision turned black at the edges, as if he'd been swallowed whole by the now-familiar darkness.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: It had been a long time since he'd come simultaneous to someone, but Liadov felt the staggering clench of the young soldiers muscles, felt the ripping harshness of his orgasmic respiration and everything in Nika imploded, dragged into unwilling rupture.

Against his anonymous partner, inside him, with him. Separate but equal. Coming together.

Splattering his seed and self deep and hard, jettisoning liquid heat into the clutch of the soldier's pulsing, convulsing ass, spreading them both up against the concrete like suffering martyrs in the grip of salvation and rapture.

Vulnerable and shuddering through the aftershocks, jerking his hips along with the stranger's, in tandem, out of tandem, and back in again.

Counterhythm, polyrhythm, unison, repeat. Break apart and come together.

Come together.

Liadov drew a ragged edged breath, slowing, collapsing, leaving them boneless against the wall, pressed and heaving chest to back, crucified and exposed.

It was beautiful.

Inexplicably, he knew he had gotten incredibly lucky, both with what he'd gotten and what he could have gotten for his trouble.

Nika let his cheek rest against the man's soft, dark hair, making no move to quit him just yet.

Languid satiation set in, and made him want to descend into indolence.

His breath still came hard and fast, his pulse only now began to cease racing.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol drifted, awash in sensation and flooded with warmth, soaring on effortless wings.

He had no cognizance of the passage of time, but instead just let his breath slow and his body relax into somnolence. He knew he could fall asleep with this man pressed against him, if the circumstances were different. Standing outside in the cold with hands bound did not much lend itself to sleeping.

Aryol found himself fantasizing, his mind concocting idle scenarios. He and this drowsy-eyed, hungry stranger naked together, skin to skin, thighs moist with splattered seed, clinging in dampness.

He didn't even know who the man was, and yet they'd shared something that moved him. This was no idle fuck, not for the stranger, and as Aryol slowly realized, not for himself, either.

Leshovik would be mad if he knew, which was why he never would.

He didn't want to move and break the intimacy of the moment, but he knew eventually the man would have to withdraw, and the simple beauty of this encounter would fade, just like the flakes of snow that drifted between rooftops to dot the softest cold kisses across their necks and faces, each touch melting instantaneously against flushed and fevered skin.

Aryol opened his eyes, shifting slightly, tilting his head to look up at the snowfall, which caressed them both so gently, it felt like a benediction.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Nika felt the young soldier stirring beneath him.

Impatiently, Liadov thought, good naturedly coming back to his senses.

There was a time limit to these things, he acknowledged reasonably. Easy, stringless encounters.

And an etiquette.

"Sorry," he said, in a gently clipped tone. "Your hands must be getting numb."

He pulled back, swiftly, slipping from the man's bodily embrace without ceremony, trying to minimize the gesture, instinctively moved to downplay the position they'd been left in.

That was only polite.

He shoved his sleek and softened cock back into his pants and belted up. His prick was twinging, oversensitive in the cold and he winced slightly, even though it was a good kind of discomfort to have.

As quickly, he reached over his head and keyed the handcuffs open, releasing the stranger with practiced efficiency.

They were still almost wholly kitted, and every shift of either man brought the chinks of utilitarian buttons and metal, creaks of leather, the rustling of leather.

It was a sweet sound to his ears.

"It's was a pleasure," he remarked, obliquely, lowering his eyes, pocketing the cuffs once more, where they lay in his pocket, benign as a slumbering serpent.

He reached for the man's fatigues, casually, easing them back up so that the soldier could fasten them once more, in case his hands had numbed during the incursion.

Nika kept his eyes just slightly angled apart, while regarding him covertly.

It was up to the soldier now, how he wanted to handle the denouement. So far it had been a perfect interlude, better than textbook.

"That was better than a Chopin etude, comrade."

The snow starred the air around them, studded it with iridescent glints of crystalline light in the twilight air.

[livejournal.com profile] eyes_adrift: Aryol frowned slightly, arranging himself, re-fastening his pants, wondering if that was it, if that was all there was, just a beautiful, rapturous moment, and then nothing. He supposed there must be an etiquette to such encounters, though he didn't know it. Everyone he had fucked, he'd either known beforehand, or had gone on to know afterward.

The man's manner seemed to imply that they were supposed bid each other a polite farewell, and go their separate ways, though Aryol found himself loath to do so, hesitating, searching the man's face.

His own expression, he kept still and carefully guarded. But Aryol knew his soft, dark eyes transmitted his emotions like a distress beacon, so he lowered them demurely after a moment.

Maybe it was all in his head, what they'd shared, just like with Leshovik. The way Leshovik had looked at him when they'd just met made Aryol believe in love at first sight, but now he knew it had only been about Kasya.

It had been the same with Lynx, he realized. He thought he'd found a man who would be his gentle, tender lover, someone to shelter him and make him feel wanted.

And now, it was Leshovik that Lynx loved. Aryol had seen it in his eyes back at the pathologist's outbuilding.

Aryol's lip twisted and his throat turned tight. Here he was, doing it again, thinking that he'd found something unique and special, but in truth, this man had just enjoyed an easy fuck, nothing more.

He knew he was supposed to smile and thank the man, perhaps give him a comradely slap on the shoulders, sharing a joke before strolling off.

But he couldn't. He couldn't do that. He couldn't pretend like it was nothing, no matter what it cost him.

Aryol made his decision like he did when he was calling the shot: swiftly, irrevocably, with full responsibility for the consequences of his decision.

He raised his head again and met the man's eyes intensely, hard and piercing like the unending stare of a raptor.

Aryol moved forward then, and closed the distance between them with a swift, intent step. He reached out and caught the man by the back of the neck, then brought his mouth to his in a deep and open kiss.

His lips were slow, tender, aching and yearning. He poured all his emotion into their sharing of breath, the caress of tongues and mouths.

Aryol let it last as long as he dared, but broke it off before the man could push him away and laugh at his naiveté.

He turned away just as quickly, just in case there was no laughter and the man tried to awkwardly apologize for leading him on instead.

Aryol hurried into the alley, letting the darkness swallow him whole.

[livejournal.com profile] nikanor_liadov: Liadov felt like he'd been punched, and fought for recovery, and was left wordless long after the strange man pulled away, eyes like chips of sparking flint, pained and searing.

He thought a civilized, erotic gesture like that preceded some conversation. Something more than a retreat, but Nika was left grasping at the straws of the man's fleeting presence, and staring into empty, snow-starred air.

He moved to follow, instinctively, but checked himself as quickly.

No, he thought, frowning, bemused.

If he'd wanted to be followed, pursued, he'd have loitered on the departure. If he'd wanted to be detained, he'd have lingered.

Liadov inhaled deeply, releasing it in a plume of blue and diaphanous vapor, as the cold night air took possession of his breath.

"Byla ne byla," he said, shrugging, blinking, putting his hands deep into his pockets.

He could return to his room now, and get a good night's sleep. Maybe he would see the soldier again, if he could recognize him by day- it wasn't the largest compound in the world, and clearly they haunted similar quadrants, unless the man were seriously off-compass this particular night.

February 2009

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