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[Continued from here.]

[Warning: NC-17 m/m Isaev/Irinarhov interaction]

[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: They left the shower room and walked outside, crossing the grounds in silence. The night air felt chilly against Kassian's damp hair and freshly scrubbed skin, but he found it refreshing.

It had stopped raining at some point. The moon shimmered behind backlit stormclouds, just a lambent halo of silver in the sky.

Isaev walked like a man possessed, eyes and shoulders pointed forward, jaw sharp, long legs setting a pace that made Kassian lengthen his stride just to keep up.

He could still feel the new tension that had sprung between them, raw-edged and fresh. Part it of had probably been born from shock, a natural reaction to the horror of the evening, but there was also something else, something that Isaev seemed to hold against him, though Kassian didn't understand.

If it wasn't his past, what was it?

He'd thought this evening would be about comfort, and the simple pleasure of being alive, but it had turned into something else entirely, and he didn't know how to name it.

They passed the barracks where Kassian had been quartered but kept going, passing a few more buildings before they reached another barracks room, marked for senior lieutenants.

Isaev threw open the door, and Kassian followed.

The barracks room looked much like his own except not as empty - four beds had been claimed, it seemed, and the accompanying gear made the barracks seem more lived-in, more inviting.

His eyes went to Isaev's.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei nodded, briefly, and began stripping his uniform once more.

They hadn't fully redressed, knowing they were heading to bunk for the night, and his jacket hung open over his bare chest, tel'nik and undershirt clutched in his hand. Pants loosely buttoned, hanging tenuously off the hard line of his hip.

He tossed off his jacket, then flicked on a lamp. It cast the room in low, dulcet light.

He paused to light a cigarette, then sat down on his bunk, sitting like a soldier with his elbows on his knees.

Then he thought better of it, and straightened his torso, crossing his boot over his knee at the ankle.

"How are you doing, Captain Irinarhov?" he asked, exhaling. "Welcome to our humble den of young lions."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian stood in front of Isaev for a few moments, just watching him, gaze hooded and brow slightly furrowed.

Again he got the impression of distance from Isaev, as if it was he who was trying to keep Kassian at arm's length now.

Kassian did not exactly appreciate the irony.

He pulled off his jacket, though, and tossed it next to Isaev's, then walked over to the bunk and sat down. Close, so their thighs touched.

Kassian bent down and began to pull off his boots, one after the other, kicking them out of the way.

He watched Isaev put the cigarette between his smug, curved lips. Watched him exhale the smoke into the air.

Leaning forward, Kassian rested his elbows on his thighs because he was tired. It was well past midnight. Perhaps 0200 by now. He didn't bother to look at his watch but instead kept his eyes on Isaev, who regarded him back with that same distance in his gaze.

"You and Imanov?" he asked.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei turned, mildly surprised.

"Ilya Petrovich?" he asked, brows knitting.

He hadn't been expecting Irinarhov to bring up his rankmate.

Isaev nodded, urging him to go on.

"What about him?" he asked, evenly, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian frowned slightly. "Young lions," he repeated, gesturing around the barracks. "I noticed it was marked for senior lieutenants."

His brow furrowed a bit deeper. "That wasn't my question. I was just commenting on what you said, comrade."

He shrugged. The smoke from Isaev's cigarette stung his eyes a bit, but Kassian still watched him anyway.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei looked up, noticing the sniper's stalwart flinch.

"Sorry, comrade," he said, crushing the cherry between his fingers. "Don't like it much myself." He tossed it aside, and ran his hand through his hair.

It was still slightly damp.

"I never used to smoke, before I came here," he added, vaguely.

"Yes," he said, belatedly, "this is the Senior Ocelot Lieutenants' barrack."
He indicated the wall behind the bunk with a slight jerk of his head. "Junior Lieutenants are next door. Charushkin rooms there."

He glanced around, smiling wistfully.

"Quiet, for a change. Semeyonev and Kolyin are out on patrol until 8 AM."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian nodded. They would be fine, then, even if Kassian stayed the night here. They would have to be up and reporting for duty before Isaev's barrackmates returned, anyway.

He pulled off his jacket and his shirt and then undid his pants, sitting up briefly to draw them down his legs, followed by his shorts.

"I'll make myself at home, comrade," Kassian said, mildly, pulling up the covers so he could slip inside Isaev's bed.

"I hope you don't mind." He settled under the covers, shifting to get comfortable. He propped himself up on his side, leaning on one elbow.

He watched Isaev with a quiet, dark gaze, and waited.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei turned his head.

"No," he said, lightly. "I don't mind at all. I need you tonight."

After a moment he drew off his boots. He shrugged, standing up, whipping his belt open and letting his jodphurs fall, pushing his shorts down as well.

"Don't take that the wrong way," he said, resting his arms on the top bunk slat and looking down solemnly. "I'm not fixated or anything."

His eyes traced the ranging muscles of the sniper's sculpted shoulder.

Andrei liked the feel of those arms around him.

They were utilitarian and raw with power, but in a way that still knew finesse. "Do you still want me, comrade?" Andrei asked, softly.

The words were artless, bare.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian studied the fine angles of Isaev's face. Young and smooth and handsome, yes, but the lieutenant's eyes flickered with something deeper, a haunted cast in those storm-tossed eyes, a look he had rarely seen since the war.

Isaev's mien seemed brittle and raw-edged. Kassian reached out and grazed his fingertips along Isaev's arm, then slipped his hand around Isaev's, closing his fingers around his broad, callused palm.

He tugged Isaev toward him. "Yes," he said, softly. "Come here."


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei nodded, letting himself lean forward, sliding a knee onto his bunk and moving toward Irinarhov.

His fingers found the sniper's face, forming a cove to shelter it, as he kissed Irinarhov's mouth remorselessly.

It was glancing, lips warm and breath light, only skimming the surface of what he intended.

He carefully pulled aside the coverlet, keeping one hand on the Captain's jaw, kissing him more deeply.

Easing himself beneath the blankets and into the warmth of the other man's embrace.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian slipped his arm around Isaev's waist, drawing the lieutenant toward him, pressing him close.

He shifted to accommodate the length and breadth of Isaev's body, the hard angles and muscular strength. Kassian ran a hand through Isaev's thick, damp hair as they kissed, enjoying the coolness against his palm.

He eased Isaev against him so they fit again, chest to chest, hip to hip, mouth to mouth. Kassian rolled to pull Isaev on top of him, running his hands down Isaev's rippled back.

They broke off to breathe, and Kassian pressed his face against the side of Isaev's neck. "I need you too," he murmured, fingers digging into Isaev's skin fiercely, harder than he meant to hold him, but he suddenly couldn't let go.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei's breath came harsh to his lips, ragged around the edges.

"I believe you have a question for me, Irinarhov," he whispered, hesitating before letting his impulses lead him, despite being reticent to immerse fully in the act.

To let himself move his lips along the sniper's neck and down his collarbone.

His hand played along the taut, spare muscles of Kassian's arm, the one that shouldered his Mosin-Nagant, cupping the bicep, tracing the deltoid and kissing the knotted rise of his forearm.

Stretching his arm out in a loving crucifixion.

Lacing their fingers together and pinning his wrist- this time only a symbolic gesture.

Leaving one hand free, forcing himself not to capture, not to conquer.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: "I do have a question for you."

He pressed his other hand against Isaev's back, encouraging him to settle, and relax.

Kassian closed his eyes, though he knew if he left them closed too long, he could fall asleep, in spite of the heat of Isaev's body and his relentless weight.

Words were too complicated for times like these, when freshly-carved wounds rubbed raw and needed cleansing and sutures.

He fell ill-equipped, but the tension in Isaev's body felt adamant, implacable. He would only be appeased by Kassian's interrogation, he could tell. Isaev had something he wanted to confess, but couldn't just volunteer it for some reason, though Kassian couldn't fathom what it could be.

Isaev wanted Kassian to be merciless, to strike at his core, but the problem was knowing where to aim.

Kassian opened his eyes and regarded Isaev, who looked fierce and feverish still.

Kassian's gaze turned flinty and sharp, and the lines around his mouth tightened.

"Tell me," he said, slowly, with an air as measured and careful as the motions of a sniper lining up his shot, "Tell me the thing you're afraid to tell me."

His head tilted, the slightest of adjustments. "Tell me the thing you don't think I'll understand."


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei paused, and a smile flickered across his face.

"That's not a question," he said, softly, and eased downward, letting his tongue dance slowly down Irinarhov's warm body, staining the pure, fresh-scrubbed flesh with the invisible ink of desire, signing his name in adulation.

"I already confessed the great, dark secret of my life, Kassian Irinarhov," he said, lips curving around the dark, flushed budded rise of a nipple. Suckling, for a moment.

Drawing it into his mouth and sawing his teeth gently over the pebbled texture.

He felt Kasya's body respond, felt him writhe and exhale. Andrei raised his eyes, smiling.

"I was raised by wolves, Captain."

He took hold of the sniper's hips, raising them easily and dragging him forward, so that his knees rested beneath the backs of Irinarhov's thighs.

"Like a folk tale," he whispered, winking insolently.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian shifted to get comfortable as Isaev positioned him, though at the same time, he fought a smile, mouth twitching wryly to the side.

"You're a bastard, Andrei Alexandrovich," he declared softly, and with the same gravity and warmth other men used to declare love.

His eyelids fluttered half-closed but he watched Isaev, extending lazy hands to stroke the sides of Isaev's thighs. Isaev had a brazen young face, all smooth lines and angles, taut skin and pouted lips. Even now, his hair fell rebelliously across his brow, curling around the corner of one eye.

Kassian had been right, that first day - was it only yesterday? Isaev was a born troublemaker.

He shook his head, but only slightly, fixing his gaze tight on Isaev's. "Did you really think I thought you were a sheep?"

Kassian's lips curled slightly. "If you don't have a problem with me shooting people in the head when I feel like it, why would I have a problem with your...pack?"

He jerked his chin upward slightly, his gaze turning narrow and sharp. "This is real, Isaev. You and me. Here and now. We're Ocelots. Not...anything else. Not anyone else."

Kassian fell silent for a few moments and let out a long breath. He tilted his head back and let his eyes close and arched against Isaev's thighs. "I've carried enough great, dark secrets of my own to understand, Lieutenant," he said, his voice thick and languid. "If you want to tell me, I'll listen. If you don't, I'll understand. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that I want you to fuck me."

His words were reckless. He wanted a lot more than that, actually, but he didn't dare say it. He went quiet, and merely breathed.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei watched him with shadowed eyes.

"There are animals between sheep and wolves, Kassian Irinarhov," he whispered. "You speak in extremes."

His hand smoothed over the skin of the sniper's thigh, easing his knee outward. Feeling no resistance.

"Maybe we should be speaking in tongues."

If Kassian didn't care, then there was no need to belabor hard points.

"Past is past," he murmured, leaning forward, kissing Irinarhov's stomach gently.

Andrei let his cheek rest against Kassian's skin.

"I don't know what to tell you," he confessed, the words a hush, and dulcet, almost like a lullaby.

"The only other person..."

He raised his face, and moved back, easing himself down between Irinarhov's thighs.

Kassian watched him with solemn patience, and something else, in those dark eyes.

Something that made him want to confess, absolve himself, and give away his body and mind to the custody of the quiet marksman.

Andrei knew he would keep them well. Like his rifle.

"How many Mosin-Nagants have you had, comrade?" he asked, quietly, leaning in, stroking Kassian's dark hair, which tumbled above his brow like a blackbriars silvered by frost.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian's brow creased slightly at the abruptness of Isaev's question, but he answered readily. "Two. The first, I was given after training. I lost it in Stalingrad. The second is the one I have now."

He reached up to brush his fingertips against Isaev's troubled brow.

"Why do you ask, comrade?" he said softly. His touch turned gentler, but still precise, tracing along the contours of Isaev's face, trailing over the ridges of bone under the texture of smooth clean skin.

His other hand slipped around Isaev's back and tugged him closer. "Come here," he whispered. "Let me hold you. I just want to be close. We don't have to fuck, Dasha."


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "I want to fuck," Isaev murmured, in a strangely honeyed tone. "Mne hachu trakhat'sya tebya, Kasya."

But he let himself fold into the sniper's embrace without struggling, inhaling his sweet, masculine scent, like scotch and cigars, but wholly organic to him somehow.

"That's who you are, isn't it."

Andrei laughed softly.

"Careful with everything you're given. You hold it close to you, protect it from weather and rot. Aren't afraid to let it get dirty and scratched, but caress it as if it were brand new."

He was conscious of how very intrinsically unsoft they were, two men, two soldiers. How they had found ways to accommodate the softness, by curving and cradling, and touch.

"You love your rifle, don't you? It's more than an object. More than a companion and a sidearm."

Andrei paused.

"But you lost the first one, didn't you. Before you knew how to hold onto it."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: A shadow passed across Kassian's gaze, the faded memory of pain, but after a moment, he arched his neck to kiss Isaev's shoulder gently, tenderly.

"I lost the first one," he said, with a bit of wryness, "because I was lying unconscious and face down in the snow from a mortar blast. Bleeding to death," he added.

He drew in a deep breath.

"But even so..." Kassian paused, frowning. "I told myself I should have been holding onto it tighter. That I never should have let it go, regardless of the state I was in."

Kassian shook his head. "Though I suppose if I hadn't lost the first, I wouldn't appreciate the one I have now as much. I wouldn't really understand how important it is to me."

He leaned up again, to place the gentlest of kisses on Isaev's brow. "But of course I love it, Isaev," he whispered. He pressed his forehead against Isaev's, and rested it there briefly. "Of course."


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei gave him a curious look.

"Bleeding to death," he said, lightly, as if the words were lace.

He eased himself up on his hands, looking Kassian in the eyes.

"Bozhna moy," he whispered, "that gives me chills, Kassian."

He rarely used the man's name without teasing it, or calling him Captain, or by his dimin.

"I don't like to imagine that," he said, and he found the secondhand pain of the experience startling. "You, cut up like that. Young and bitter, bleeding your life out."

He looked down for a moment.

"This was before your Viktor, I suppose," he said, wryly.

The words the sniper had spoken had sent a strange rush down his arms and up his neck, like the wind riffles wheat at the cold crack of dawn.

"It must love you in return," he murmured, suddenly, knowing he spoke out of phase. "Do you know. It must, Dmitrich. Guarding your life, responding to your touch...sleeping by your side."

Andrei was beginning to feel a warming at the edges of his mind, and he frowned, bewildered.

"What's happening?" he asked, in a low voice. He lowered his head, like a confused bull. His shoulders trembled, strong as iron, but somehow faltering in their will.

"Only one other person," he whispered, "has ever made me feel like this."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian's grip tightened around Isaev, who shivered under his touch, seeming now so young and vulnerable it made Kassian's chest ache with a sudden, breath-stealing sharpness.

Kassian brought him close, and wrapped him carefully in his arms. He pressed a single kiss to Isaev's forehead and stroked his fingers through Isaev's still-damp hair.

He could feel the stress, the strain of the night written in Isaev's taut shoulders. Lingering horrors, and difficult conversations. Kassian felt guilty. He wondered if he could have said or done something else instead.

If he should have.

But he just stroked Isaev's hair, and tucked his head close. Things had progressed to the point where they now could only see them through.

"Tell me," he whispered.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei took a deep breath, and laughed quietly.

"I'm sorry, comrade. I'm being a complete girl tonight."

He ran his hand through his hair, and let his eyes roam slowly down Irinarhov's body, curious, seeking the telltale marks of scars from the mortar shell, long ago.


Then he explored with his hands, boldly seeking the slightly blighted flesh on the sniper's flank, smiling faintly when he found it with his fingertips.

Stroking it, lightly, as if it were an erogenous zone.

"I want you so much," he said, meeting Irinarhov's eyes with light, hedonic eyes.

"But I can't let myself take you, without telling you something first."

It was only fair, Isaev thought, shuddering as he took in the man before him- the taut and functional muscle, the beautiful, stoic face, weathered steel and flint. Eyes that devoured him from a distance, every minute of the day, and hungered for him now.

Irinarhov's lust was deep and patient, like a volcano.

"You told me about your career in murder," Andrei said, slowly, toying with the scar's contours, oscillating the keratinized marks of glossed-over carnage tenderly.

"I suppose it's only fair that I tell you something equally unspeakable."

He smiled, shaking his head.

"I'm fully prepared for you to shove me away and run, comrade."

His hand found the sniper's jaw, caressing it absently.

"My brother, Illarion...we have..."

Andrei paused.

"...we've always had....an unusual relationship."

He averted his eyes, hardly able to believe he was imparting this aloud, to a man he'd met only a day before.

A man who'd hated him, or at least mistrusted him...

Isaev shook his head.

"Some people might call it...unwholesome."

His fingers stilled delicately over Kassian's scarred hip.

"...if you understand me, comrade."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian frowned, slowly, but his grip on Isaev remained tight. Grew tighter, so as to keep him close, and not let him go.

He was silent, thinking for a while. Trying to work out Isaev's meaning. His words seemed to imply conclusions that were disturbing, though Kassian wasn't sure if he understood correctly. If he interpreted Isaev's words right.

Kassian felt so far removed from the idea of a family, of parents and children and siblings that he wasn't fully sure what was supposed to be wholesome or unwholesome, these days.

After a few moments, he decided to go with the worst thing he could think of, though the idea of it was enough to make his chest burn, and to cause old scars to ache.

He reached out and caught Isaev's jaw, but he was gentle. His eyes felt raw and tight, but he held Isaev's gaze.

"He hurt you?" he asked in a voice like brittle ice. He had killed men for lesser things.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "No," he said. "No, that was never a problem."

He closed his eyes.

The intensity of Irinarhov's gaze was white-hot, almost condemning.

"I hope you never look at me like that."

He was beginning to see flashes of what Kassian had hinted at, when they had been at the artillery shed earlier.

I was angry.

"Lasha and I have always been close, but that closeness took a turn when I was seventeen. Our mother had died, but that wasn't the reason. Just the catalyst. The excuse."

How Roman, Andrei thought dryly. The eccentricities of wealth and privilege. Incest and obsession between brothers.

No, he'd never seen any mortars.

Nothing on the order of the brutality of Kassian's life.

Just money, parties, privilege and debauchery.

He was crazy for thinking that Irinarhov wouldn't disdain him, but he couldn't stop himself from pursuing the sniper, engaging his embraces, despite knowing the odds he'd be jettisoned with a snarl and a kick when the Captain found out who Andrei Alexandrovich Isaev really was.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: "He didn't hurt you," Kassian repeated, and forced himself to relax. He let out a breath and unlocked the fierce, stiff set of his shoulders, slowly averting his gaze.

"I didn't mean to look at you like that. I apologize, comrade." He paused. "I just don't like the idea of you being hurt. In any way."

Kassian looked back at Isaev then, studying his face. He saw guilt, and maybe shame there, and he found even that made his chest pang a little.

He offered the twitch of a smile, and brought his arm from around Isaev's back to reach up and gently tug on a wayward lock of blond hair that had hastened to hide one of Isaev's cool grey eyes.

"I never had a brother," he said, settling back in the bed again. "Tell me about him."


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "Lasha...?" Andrei's voice trailed off like the tail of a cat.

Rounding the corner in search of other things.

He pulled it back reluctantly, and glanced up at the ceiling, pushing his lips out contemplatively.

"He's ten years older than I am," he began, hesitantly.

How did one make a summation of someone like Illarion?

"He's someone you either love or hate, and sometimes both at once."

Isaev frowned, eyeing Kassian speculatively.

"If by some chance he'd been alive a few years earlier and drafted into the war, you'd probably have shot him on the first day," he said, wryly.

He thought about Lasha, about what to say. What he could say, without betraying too much.

"Every old baba," he began slowly, "tells a story about a prince who was handsome and vain, and somehow rewarded for it."

He shrugged.

"That's Lasha. Prince Ivan, who steals from the garden of earthly delights as if it's his birthright...and rides away on the back of a wolf."

He fell silent, and smiled.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian listened quietly, rubbing Isaev's back with an idle stroke of his hand.

"And now?" he asked. Isaev seemed ambivalent to Kassian, smiling but shrugging, speaking of his brother as a prince who needed to be shot.

He tilted his head. "Do you love him or hate him?"

Kassian let the question fall with a frown.

"He's far away now," he added, somewhat uncessarily, since surely Isaev knew that better than anyone, if it were true. "Isn't he?"

He paused again. "Do you miss him?"


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "He's in Petrograd," Andrei said, tilting his head. "I haven't seen him for a year now."

He was surprised that Kassian's only concern seemed to be not how inappropriate his love for his brother had been, but whether or not he still carried it.

He smiled, unable to help himself.

Kassian Irinarhov was enigma personified. The sniper dealt in damage, and seemed to take his confession in his stride.

But love, as it applied to Illarion, was a complicated thing.

He struggled to articulate that for a moment, then finally gave up, and went with the advice of his inner monologue.

"It's never been easy for me to understand why I love him the way I do."

He laughed.

"Or how I can hate him, in the same breath."

Andrei shrugged.

"It's one of those mysteries. Ilya says it's classic codependency- he calls it the Romulus and Remus paradigm."

Isaev smiled lazily, distantly.

"I don't agree," he said finally. "He had a Romulus. It wasn't me."

He stretched his long, strong frame out over Kasya's, settling onto one side, resting his head on his hand as he studied him for the thousandth time, drinking in every hard-wrought detail.

"You're his polar opposite," he said. "I've only just realized that."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: "How so?" Kassian ran his hand down Isaev's flank with idle affection, glad for the stillness he felt, and the quiet ease in the way Isaev lay against Kassian now, when before he had pulled away.

Kasian wondered at this man, this Lasha. It was Kassian's nature to be suspicious, and so he felt wary of Lasha, mistrustful of the ways in which Isaev's elder brother had hurt him, even if Isaev wouldn't admit it.

Even if he didn't realize it.

Hate had to come from someplace, after all.

But at the same time, Isaev loved him, so Kassian couldn't hate the idea of this man he had never met, this Prince Ivan, regardless of what he had, or might have, done.

And there was part of him that felt flattered at the comparison, just the same.

He leaned his head up to kiss Isaev's shoulder, once, then settled back to listen, his hand resting on Isaev's back, stroking idly.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei looked surprised.

"How not," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Your hair..." he said, running his fingers slowly through the rumpled forelock of midnight brown. "Is dark...where his is light. Like mine."

Andrei paused, meeting his eyes.

"Your eyes, also dark. Your skin..." he raised his eyebrows. "Olive."

But that was superficial. The real differences went deeper than that.

But to say any more would irreparably rend the fabric of his evasion- if he spoke of how Kasya came from humble, hard-working stock, and toiled in the trenches of the war, he would have to speak of how Illarion had grown up in the image of a man who imprisoned that hard-working stoic Russian proletariat and drank fine warmed cognac out of a crystal snifter.

"Yes," Andrei said, quietly. "You are the utter antithesis of everything my brother is."
He leaned forward, kissing the the hard line of the sniper's mouth, just to feel it crumble, becoming sensuous and supple.

"Ah, well, that is one thing that's similar..." he whispered. "Strong lips you have to break with kindness."

He kissed the side of Kassian's mouth, again, lingering.

"Only his lips are firm and cruel, where yours are hard and stoic."

Perhaps that would say all that needed to be said.

"Except you're no brother to me, are you?" Andrei said with a dark wink.

"Even though you're older, like Lasha."

He tilted his head, thoughtfully.

"I wonder what Ilya would say about you and I," he murmured.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian shook his head slightly. "I don't know," he said. He hadn't gotten a good impression of Imanov yesterday, other than to note his hostility, though that could have easily been driven by illness.

But his thoughts were on this brother of Isaev's, this Lasha.

He knew the kind of man that Isaev described his brother to be. Firm and cruel. Lasha probably was the sort who took what he wanted with no apologies, and little guilt.

Though he probably wasn't entirely ruthless, either. Kassian found himself morbidly curious, but sensed there were things Isaev didn't want to discuss, details he didn't want to divulge. It was fine. Kassian didn't have the pressing need to know every detail.

He turned his errant, thoughtful gaze back to Isaev. "Your brother must love you, in his own way," he said, though he was as certain that Isaev knew that as he was sure it had to be true.

Kassian took in a breath then, and let it out. He could feel Isaev's body close and snug, pressed against him. The anxiety Kassian had felt from Isaev earlier now had bled away, leaving only the taut energy of youth waiting to be expended.

And something else, he thought. Something almost wistful, though Kassian didn't know what it meant.

"Do you regret anything with him?" he asked Isaev, brows angled to a thoughtful arc. He leaned up then and kissed Isaev's pouted lips before he could answer, though only once before pulling back slightly, and resting his arms around Isaev's back.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei shifted his hips reflexively against Irinarhov's thigh, feeling the twinge of pleasure that answered him.

"Why do you get me so worked up, comrade?" he murmured, moving his lips against the Captain's ear, with a soft laugh.

Andrei felt a little intoxicated- warm with fatigue and arousal, gracious with the relief of revelation.

"What were you asking me, comrade?" he asked, with a lanuid smile, toying sensuously with a lock of hair from Irinarhov's silvered temple, wrapping it slowly around one strong finger.

Oh. Lasha.

"Regret," he said, tilting his head, exposing his throat coyly. "Isn't something I was raised to acknowledge."

Maybe he'd said too much, now.

But everything felt so right here.

"Kiss my neck," he whispered.

"And I'll tell you about Lasha...I like revisting the past, but I love the present."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian's mouth tugged to the side.

"You don't have to ask me twice, comrade."

He leaned forward to bring his lips to the velvety skin of Isaev's throat, pausing to taste him with the edge of his tongue and drink in his clean, masculine scent.

The stubble on his jaw brushed against Isaev's neck with an audible rasp and he pulled back slightly. "Sorry," he murmured against Isaev's neck, then soothed the tiny red mark with his tongue.

Isaev's feverish, driven need for mutual interrogation seemed to be sated now, eased by his confession about his brother.

Kassian wondered if Isaev had really thought that Kassian would suddenly reject him over such a thing, which as far as he was concerned, was in the past, and could stay there.

Regardless, the coiled dread and tension had left Isaev's body now, replaced by the supple lust of youth.

In Kassian's experience, voices could lie and appearances deceive, but touch was ever-accurate.

He closed his eyes and let the press of his lips and the brush of his nose guide him along Isaev's throat.

He went slowly. He was thorough. He took his time, mapping every millimeter, pausing to linger with unhurried, infinite kisses.

Isaev's pulse fluttered under his lips, and his breath rattled. "You don't have to talk now," Kassian whispered against Isaev's skin as he continued.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "Oh christ," hissed Isaev sweetly. "You do that perfectly. You gorgeous son of a bitch."

His hands drove into Irinarhov's hair, and he pressed his mouth hotly against the sniper's ear once more, letting him hear the soft ravages of his breath.

"I won't talk if there's nothing you want to know," he whispered. "But I do know that if you keep this up, you're going to get me inside you before too long."

He was willing, he was open. What Kasya wanted, Kasya would have, anything in his power.

If Kassian wanted to know the details of his sordid....enjoyable...but ultimately improprietous interaction with his icy brother, Andrei had no objection.

Or if Kassian wanted him silent as the grave, he'd seal his lips and take him like a monk.

He was feeling very lithe, at the moment.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian made a low noise in the back of his throat, a rumble of pleasure.

He paused, drawing his lips away from Isaev's neck reluctantly, and lifted his gaze.

"I told you once, I want to know everything."

Kassian tilted his head, considering. "Everything you want to tell me, at least."

He leaned into Isaev's neck again, breath and mouth warm against the rise of Isaev's adam's apple.

"But everything's a lot, Dasha," he murmured. "And we have plenty of time."

He was speaking optimistically, of course. Kassian didn't honestly know. He'd had only a few spare months with Vitya, and it hadn't come close to being enough.

And there was always the chance that Isaev could kick him out of his bed tomorrow, and stroll off on his merry way, but Kassian just couldn't even bring himself to take that possibility seriously.

This moment felt like it could stretch to the horizon.

Kassian began to lick his name into Isaev's skin, forming each letter precisely, in dewy Cyrillic script.

"I want you inside me," he paused to murmur.

There would be time later for everything else.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "Da," breathed Andrei, shivering at the precise, possessive strokes of the sniper's tongue. "I want that too...Kassian."

He broke away, fingers feathering down the bronzed, sun-tempered body, to knead gently at the softly carved pectorals.

Tanned from long days in the field, stripped to the waist and waiting, waiting...for the perfect shot to present itself.

Someday he would be so permanently made as this man.

"Kassian," he repeated, feeling the name shush from his mouth with soft slavic reverence.

He urged him wordlessly, broad hands beckoning Irinarhov to turn onto his side, sliding his body up behind him like the opposite of shadow.

From here, spooning Irinarhov's body in the cradle of his own, he could fold his arms in like the wings of Horus, run his hands anywhere and everywhere they desired.

Seek the muscles of his chest, the rough rise of his neck, the military knots of his abdomen.

Or slip his hand gently down, let it curve beneath his taut, twining thigh, and persuade it gently upward with the flat of his palm, like he was doing now.

Sliding his touch down, caressing the forbidden zones, erogenous and uncharted, coming to know his comrade, as his comrade had come to know him.

From here, Andrei could kiss his shoulders, his neck, and he did so. Touching him intimately, whispering soft, inaudible praises into the cove formed between them, luxuriating in the decadence of the position, the recline of their twinned bodies.

Here, he thought, was perhaps the only advantage of his height and breadth, to lie with Kasya like this, turning the inequity of his size into a breathtaking asset.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian arched against Isaev's touch. His body curved back, pilant in Isaev's hands, and he felt relaxed, and open.

It had been a long time for him. Not since Vitya had he let anyone close. Not close enough for a kiss, and certainly not for this, either.

But he wanted Isaev. Wanted to feel the strength in Isaev's arms, in his body, and in his murmured words. He craved the vulnerability he felt while joined in that embrace, and the thought of it made him shiver.

"Dasha..." he murmured, arching his head back in pleasant, blood-stirring lust, hips unconsciously rocking as Isaev touched him, weight shifting, legs parting.

It was actually more about need than want, he reflected, and he knew what he needed now.

And what Isaev needed too.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei slid his hand discreetly down between the mattress and the bunk wall. He kept a standard issue tin tube of petroleum stashed there, like most enterprising soldiers.

He inclined his head, moving his lips along Irinarhov's jaw in slow, hungry kisses.

"A concentrated hook punch to the front side of the jaw," he whispered in the sniper's ear, "will snap the neck."

He surreptitiously twisted the cap off with his fingers, one-handed.

His tongue danced lightly down Kassian's rough, warm throat, pausing to flicker across his Adam's apple and purr out a soft caveat.

"A short....sharp...sweet blow....here, and a man asphixiates in silence."

He felt a slight shift as Irinarhov swallowed and felt himself come undone a little more.

His cock pulsed with anticipation, aching, as his chest ached somewhere inside- but neither were a painful ache- if it was possible, they were bittersweet and ardent, poignant and foretelling, like the feeling of impending tears or an oncoming sneeze.

He squeezed the tube in his fist, generously coating his palm and fingers with the vehicle and moving his hand down to curve around underneath Irinarhov's thigh.

Hesitating, letting the warmth of his hand transfer to the inert medium, until it became less foreign, less intrusive, more part of the act itself.


He kissed the base of the sniper's skull, where the hair was closer cropped and ruffled insolently beneath the touch of his lips.

"I once took out a communications operator by driving the heel of my hand into his cerebellum."

This position was a personal favorite of Isaev's. Spooning the Captain's body gave him access to everything he wanted to feel, all at once, within his grasp.

He didn't know why he chanted the morbid litany, as if they were love words. Perhaps because it was the only other thing he'd ever felt that touched upon the intimacy he felt with Irinarhov.

"Coccyx," he murmured, pressing his hips in, so that Kasya would feel his hard cock against the spoken part, and know the physical proof of his desire. "A strong thrust to the tailbone...is fatal."

Touching his body, the forbidden territory that lay open to him. The sniper was trusting, a supplicant, and it made him crazy.

"The testicles are particularly vulnerable to a focused blow of the fist..."

His slickened hand closed around Kassian's, massaging them gently in his broad grasp.

"...and the resulting shock causes death."

Andrei trailed his fingers behind the strange flesh of the pouch and up through the cleft of Irinarhov's buttocks, exhaling softly over his shoulder, kissing the domed cap of the deltoid.

Tasting salt.

He stopped when the pads of his fingers sensed a delicate place, the soft ruching like crepe.

"There," he breathed, knowing he sounded like Lasha, not caring, "Right there...is the one place a well-placed thrust results in something other than death...liubyjionik."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Isaev's words hit him on a deeply visceral level. Striking at the core of his being. Isaev understood something fundamental about him. Maybe something he didn't even understand about himself.

Kassian Dmitrievich was a killer, both by tradecraft, and inclination. Though a sniper remained detached through the very nature of his work, Kassian still knew that he found an unspeakable sort of joy in death gracefully executed, recognized that it could be beautiful. The words Isaev spoke tapped into that raw truth.

Andrei Alexandrovich saw it that way too. They shared the grim outlook in common, and it forged a bond that he had never experienced. Not with Vitya. Not like this. This connection with Isaev was something wholly and startlingly new.

They'd recognized each other as predators early on, he thought, but it was the encounter with the mutilated and dismembered body that solidified the tie between them.

And now...Isaev's body encircled his own in an embrace that felt both protective, and possessive. His hands moved intimately between Kassian's thighs, touched his most vulnerable spots. And Kassian's body trembled, and burned.

"Do it," he rasped, voice harsh, and goading. He wanted those expert hands that could kill with effortless touch to break him apart. He needed to feel Isaev strike into his core.

His back arched and his toes curled and his cock stiffened, impossibly hard. He twisted his neck back to nip at Isaev's jaw and his hand reached to blindly grip at Isaev's thigh like a falling man grasping the edge of a cliff.

"Do it," he said again. "Do it, Dasha. I'm yours."


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "Shhh, shhhh," murmured Andrei, darkly. "Believe me, I will." He paused and smiled against Irinarhov's neck.

"And of course you are."

The words were thick and hungry like cream.

Isaev reached down, slicking himself with practiced efficiency.

Looping his arm beneath Irinarhov's thigh, he constricted it, drawing the sniper's knee toward his ribs, spreading him obscenely, so that it was child's play to manuever his hips into position from behind. A slight shift down and up again, and now his cock was pressed against the rift, and Andrei wanted nothing more than to slam his whole length up inside and pummel Kassian's taut, olive toned backside like a heavy bag.

But he didn't.

He teased the entrance for a minute, grazing it with the head of his cock, letting Kassian's body grow to anticipate the idea, get hungry for it physically as well as mentally.

Then he pressed firmly upward with several fluid motions, rolling his hips, bracing Kasya at the shoulder.

Pentrating in rapid waves that took his own breath.

There was no pause in rhythm, once he was inside. He continued the languid undulations of his hips, surging right into fucking, sliding all the way home with every thrust.

There was something incredibly gratifying and decadent about making love like this, lying down, reclined and organic, embracing his lover possessively but languorously.

There was something frankly phenomenal about having Kasya like this.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian had imagined it would be like this.

Effortless.

Oh, he'd known they were both experienced - Isaev more so than he - but their synergy felt like more than just knowing how to fuck, or even knowing how to make love.

It felt like the way it had been earlier that morning, at the target range, shooting.

Their bodies moved together naturally, as easy as breathing, and touching.

Every long, deep stroke rocked him forward and back in Isaev's close embrace, each thrust shot warmth through his body and made him feel like he'd never be cold again.

Their breath came as one, in long, hushed gasps. It was something a soldier learned, to be quiet when fucking, but even though they were the only ones here, Kassian felt like there was no need to be vocal.

These simple, exquisite moments existed out of time, and felt like they could last forever. Kassian found that he like being fucked even better than he liked fucking.

He had never realized it before. Or maybe it was just unique with Dasha. With Vitya, even sex had been a competition. This felt different.

A smile lured his lips upward, unguarded. Kassian arched his neck back and shuddered rhythmically, heat building.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei let his brow fall against Kasya's shoulder.

"Shto imeyem, na kranim," he muttered, almost inaudibly.

What we own, we don't safekeep.

Illarion had chided him for being careless. Maybe because he'd never understood what he had in his palm, it always came so easily...

"...poteryabshi- plachem."

When it is lost to us, we cry.

He had never felt anything so tender, so raw, as this feeling of his arms around Kassian, this quiet act of possession and devotion.

The sniper's skin was warm and firm as gun steel.

Isaev shifted, stroking his hands upward, slowly, fingers splaying to play over the slight ridges of Irinarhov's ribs, curving them into the shallow hollow of his sternum and over his flatly muscled pectorals.

Andrei made a low noise, absent, passionate, and his fingertips made rough, caressing revolutions over the rise of each nipple.

All the while he kept his thrusts languid, elliptical, almost as if it were an afterthought, but of course it was the only thought in his mind.

Fucking. Christ, were they ever. It shouldn't have felt this good, not with a man he'd only known for a day.

Or at least- it shouldn't have felt so organic, like a blooming vine, pushing through chinks in a hard stone wall and seeking the sun.

Andrei wondered how long it had been seen Irinarhov had seen the sun.

Or felt it. Flooding his mind and body.

Zeus came down in a shower of gold once.....

He would show him the sun again, he decided, dazed and aroused, driven and ardent.

He would drag him into the sun and force him down on his knees...

Andrei gathered himself, shuddering gently.

"The abdomen," he said, biting his lip.

"A substantially committed blow to any vital organ and the resulting rupture will cause death."

He gave a particularly deep thrust to punctuate his words.

"...the rib cage," he murmured, against the Captain's ear, grazing it with his teeth. "Can be viciously shattered against the heart."

Another thrust of his hips, pushing up into his lover, with the unbearable sweetness of the motion causing him to moan.

Burying his face in Kassian's dark hair.

"There are so many ways to make a man fall," he breathed, "but my favorite, my specialty...is commotio cordis...."

His hand curved over Kassian's chest, cupping the space above the man's heart firmly. Feeling strong tremors shake them both.

His breath shuddered out from his lips and became a purr.

"The heart punch."

He hoped he was not the only one feeling this terrifying, liberating animus. The kind of beast that could walk up a wall, and vault the gates of Groznyj Grad without a thought.

"Moy Kashiushka," he whispered, darkly, reaching for Irinarhov's cock, wrapping his fist around it and jerking upward against the motions of their bodies.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: A gasp tore from his throat, unbidden and sudden, hitching the rhythm they'd established. Isaev had a grip as firm and precise as a shooter, and it made Kassian see stars. Convulsively, Kassian reached up to clench his hand around the one Isaev had seized across his heart, lacing his fingers and gripping down like his life depended on it.

"Bozhe moy, ya umirayu," he breathed, barely able to form the words between shuddering gasps. Isaev's touch, the strong, sure hand on his cock, rendered him speechless and breathless.

He bucked against Isaev's relentless strokes, both on his cock and from behind. He felt himself grow hot and tight. At this rate it wouldn't take long, not for either of them, not under this driving pressure.

Their bodies turned slick and flushed, and the smell of sex grew heady. Kassian's voice caught jagged on words he barely knew he was saying. Whatever this was between them, he thought, it was consuming and compelling.

He didn't have the time or reason to question. Their breath quickened and their rhythm sharpened and they strained together, moaning. It felt blazing and glorious, like the trajectory of a bullet on the horizon.

Orgasm came so acutely it hurt, but he welcomed the pain.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: Andrei melted into the dulcet aftermath, loins convulsing, as aftershocks chased through him. He felt his eyes haze with heat, and he worried his lip between his teeth, savoring the succulence of climax's slow unwinding, like a retreating wave.

He didn't withdraw immediately, preferring to stay locked in the intimacy of their naked embrace until it was no longer physically possible.

Irinarhov felt strong and solid in his arms, and he let his muscles slacken, settling around him, draping his form over the sniper's as if he were a raft in a vast ocean.

The only thing around that could bear the weight of his body.


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian let out a long and slow breath. He relaxed and bent his head, feeling Isaev settle against him.

His body tingled in the wake of their lovemaking and he began to feel drowsy, full and content, sated.

He squeezed Isaev's hand gently, but had neither the strength nor the inclination to do more.

"Isaev...Andrei," he started, but didn't finish. Words failed him and actions were obvious. Right now he had little to convey that he already hadn't demonstrated with his body.

Instead, he just sighed, short and sweet, and let himself rest there with the blanket of Isaev's musculature around him.

"Thank you," he whispered, finally, not certain if Isaev would understand. But it was the closest thing he could think of that would explain what he felt.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: After a moment, Andrei's hand returned to life and released Irinarhov, moving upward to curve around his waist. The other toyed idly with his hair, a rare and playful gesture among soldiers.

He lay there, breathing in sated silence, and something occurred to Isaev, as his fingers found the hidden scar beneath Kassian's softly silvered temple.

Odds were that Irinarhov had won that scar before he was even born. Irinarhov had been killing men and shedding blood before he was even a patronymic twinkle.

Maybe fucking them too.

Andrei found it intriguing that they were lying here now, easy and lazy and satiated.

"Is it kinky, getting off with someone half your age?" he asked, with a diminutive laugh. "Knowing I didn't even exist when you had your first blow job?"


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian snorted.

"It is, now that you put it that way, Isaev."

He actually hadn't thought about it much, the gap in their ages, except to note that Isaev carried himself with a maturity that went beyond his years.

But now that he thought about it, it did feel decadent. Maybe even indecent. Shades of Isaev's relationship with his older brother.

He smirked to himself. What was the saying? Robbing the cradle? It made him feel fairly smug.

He drew in a breath and let it out with a long, satisifed sigh, shifting to settle comfortably.

He tried to imagine Isaev as a small child, tow-headed with bright round eyes, but ended up just shaking his head.

"Why?" he asked, drowsy now. "Is it kinky getting off with someone twice your age?"

He was fairly sure he knew the answer to that one.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "Uh huh," murmured Andrei, tweaking a raven lock of the sniper's hair. "It's pretty twisted."

His tone indicated that this was a positive.

"Didn't think I had any kinks, but there you are."

No, not Isaev. Aside from killing men with his bare hands, and boxing his previous lovers violently before taking them to his bed.

Andrei laughed again, teasing Kassian's jaw idly with his lips.

"...I could have been your son."


[livejournal.com profile] capt_kasya: Kassian arched his neck, leaning back far enough to catch Isaev's mouth in a brief and lazy kiss before relaxing, letting his head sink against the bed once more.

"I don't think I slept with enough women for that," he said, trying to remember, his thoughts leisurely. It had been a long time ago, back in the early days of the war, and he scarcely remembered the details.

"Just a couple of whores, while on leave. I was drunk with my comrades. That sort of thing."

He paused to do the math.

"Though I suppose the timing would have been right for the last time I was with a woman. How old are you? Twenty three? Twenty four?"

He realized he'd never asked. Back when Isaev had asked Kassian's age, Kassian had still been cautious and reticent, unwilling to let the brash young lieutenant get close.

How quickly that had changed, he thought, feeling Isaev shift behind him, his fingers still threading through Kassian's hair.

"Hm. I like this better." He felt himself drifting, his focus surrendering toward slumber.

He fell silent for a while.

"You're a kinky bastard, Isaev," he murmured finally, voice muffled but suffused with warmth.


[livejournal.com profile] andrei_isaev: "Nah," said Andrei, letting his eyes close. "Kinky would be if I wanted to call you Dad."

He settled in, letting his limbs relax, wrapping himself deeper around the other man.

"...Twenty-three," he answered, belatedly.

Smiling, sighing, sleepily kissing the sniper's hair and easing them both into a better sleeping pose.

Wondering what it meant that the glow in his body still hadn't subsided, but far from complaining.

Date: 2007-04-04 06:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] andrei-isaev.livejournal.com
*yawn*

It's early.

...and you smell like cinnamon.

Date: 2007-04-04 08:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] andrei-isaev.livejournal.com
Maybe you're just hungry.



Date: 2007-04-04 02:33 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] capt-kasya.livejournal.com
Maybe.

...but you smell good enough to eat.

September 2009

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