Sep. 1st, 2008 01:38 am
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[personal profile] taras_oleksei
Taras stepped into the hall, closing his door behind him.

He had showered and changed, and now had on the casual clothes he wore to work out, complete with a light jacket over his tank, to cover his shoulders and arms. That was better. Easier than having his tattoos on display, even if it was only Isaev's brother and his comrade.

Taras carried the bottle of cognac that he'd brought with him from Leningrad, Isaev's brand.

He felt the strange need to see Ilarion.

Taras crossed to Isaev's door and knocked briskly, then opened it and stepped inside, pausing to assess the situation.

The room was mostly as he'd left it. The Ukrainian sat in the corner, still clutching Lasha's vodka bottle, though it looked considerably less full than before. Taras frowned at that.

Ilarion and Andrusha sat next to each other, leaning close with chairs pushed together, like they had been talking.

Taras wasn't certain how long he'd been gone. A while.

He held up the bottle, as if it had only been a few minutes.

"Brought more cognac," he said.
Page 1 of 4 << [1] [2] [3] [4] >>

Date: 2008-09-01 10:39 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ilarion smiled, extremely gamely.

"Taras," he drawled. "How very nice to see you, and how kind of you to come."

His eyes fluttered up, amused.

To his left, Andrei let out a low, manful giggle.

"Took your time, making sure she was okei, da comrade? That's a responsible Soviet citizen."

Date: 2008-09-02 03:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Right," Taras said, after a pause. "Right."

He summoned up a smirk, letting it play over his broad features, like the insinuation was true, and more.

"She said she was homesick. I just wanted to be...thorough."

He walked over to the bar to drop off the cognac. Taras picked up Ilarion's bottle, holding it up and swirling the amber liquid within, making a show of examining what was left.

His pulse was racing for a reason he didn't understand, and he couldn't quite bring himself to look at Ilarion. Not yet.

"Looks like you did all right without me."

Taras pulled out a fresh glass and poured himself some wine.

"Did I miss anything? Or are you ready to call it a night?"

Date: 2008-09-02 07:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Lasha tipped his head back.

"Just catching up," he said, easing his fingers from Andrei's wayward mane and leaning back, feeling vaguely sated. "You'd have been bored, I'm sure."

He glanced up at the clock, then at his brother.

"You should turn in, Andrei. We have all the time in the world."

He glanced at Irinarhov.

"Looks like your down," he quipped, dryly.

Irinarhov appeared to have outdrunk them both, which wasn't exactly surprising, seeing as he'd been quiet, where they'd been animated.

Obviously, he'd made use of the time.

Date: 2008-09-02 08:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Kassian raised his head, narrowing his eyes at Ilarion.

"I'm fine," he growled.

He pushed himself out of his chair, lurching unsteadily. Vodka sloshed at the bottom of the bottle.

Kassian blinked. The room was spinning a little.

"I just need a minute."

He took in a few deep breaths.

"Okei, now I'm fine."

He pushed away from the chair and headed toward the door with deliberate steps, bottle still clutched in his hand.

"Come on, Andrei. Let's go."

Date: 2008-09-02 04:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Andrei smiled vaguely, shaking his head.

"Da, okei. We'll go."

He pushed himself up, somewhat carefully, and Ilarion came with him, sliding a shoulder under his, helping him amble to the door.

Lasha always held his liquor well, up and until that point of no return.

He wasn't there yet, thought Andrei, as Ilarion still indulged him physically, steering him.

Then again, he'd been so rapt at their conversation, his drink must have seemed an afterthought.

Lasha fixed him with warm, firm eyes, patting his cheek.

"Now, you're going to be able to get back to your barrack, Andrusha, da?"

"Da," said Andrei, with a grin, head pitching forward, swiping a clumsy kiss across his brother's set mouth. "We'll manage."

"Khorosho, bratan. I'll see you tomorrow."

Andrei released him, hands sliding down his lapels as he backed away. He swaggered only slightly.

Ilarion glanced at Irinarhov, obliquely.

"Nice seeing you again," he clipped out, perfunctory.

Date: 2008-09-02 05:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Kassian stiffened.

"You too," he said, evenly, careful not to slur.

He watched Lasha for a few moments, but his grey eyes were mild and cool, the comment seemingly unweighted.

Kassian drew himself up, standing straight. He turned to the door, then took a misstep, lurching suddenly. Kassian had to reach out to catch Andrei's arm.

He gritted his teeth.

"...I'm sure it won't be the last time," he muttered, without looking back.

Date: 2008-09-17 05:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Oh, it won't," Lasha said, matter-of-factly, as he closed the door, but Andrei's housepet mattered little to him at this juncture. He was languid, his mood was eased and mellowed.

The fire had settled down to glowing embers, and needed to be restoked.

He noted that vaguely as he turned away.

Oleksei was standing there, silently, and Ilarion smiled, a slightly obfuscated expression.

"Well, that just leaves you and I, doesn't it Captain."

Date: 2008-09-17 06:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Taras raised his glass and knocked back the wine like a shot of hard liquor.

He grimaced.

"I need a few more of those," he muttered. "Have to catch up."

He walked back to the bar and leaned his elbows on the counter, considering the bottles for a few moments.

Taras scowled suddenly.

"That prick took your vodka."

He shook his head.

"At this rate, we'll run out before it's time to leave."

Taras found a napkin and wiped out his glass, then poured himself some cognac, shaking his head, then sighing.

He glanced at Lasha.

"Everything go okay while I was gone?"

Date: 2008-09-17 06:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Da, khorosho," mused Ilarion, slipping down onto the floor in front of the fire, letting his boots sprawl. "I indulged a bit. I might even be a little...compromised."

He tipped his head back, leaning against the chair, considering Oleksei vaguely as he rubbed his jaw, slowly, lingering.

"How about you?"

Date: 2008-09-17 06:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Taras raised his head.

He looked over at Ilarion, watching him carefully for a few moments. Lasha was sitting on the floor, of all places. Watching him in turn. Taras grabbed another glass and poured Lasha a cognac.

"Khoroso," he said, nodding with conviction.

He walked over to Lasha and held out the glass.

"I checked on Anya. She was fine. She said thanks."

Taras hesitated, taking a sip. He stared at a spot directly over Ilarion's head.

"And I called your place, to check up on Khartov. He's behaving."

Date: 2008-09-17 07:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Lasha returned Oleksei's gaze, steadily, unassuming, as he took the cognac from his hand.

"Khartov. What did he have to say for himself?"

Ilarion laughed softly, almost to himself, luxuriating in the glow of the fireplace.

"I like that guy. He's rough around the edges, but a lot goes on inside his head."

He paused.

"He has beautiful eyes, actually."

He was aware it was a bit of a non sequitur.

"Sometimes he reminds me of you. Not as seasoned, of course. But...still."

Date: 2008-09-17 08:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Taras stared at Isaev for a moment, taken aback.

He had never particularly noticed Khartov's eyes, beautiful or otherwise, except to note when Khartov was watching him. He supposed if he really thought about it, he could see -

His hand clenched, convulsively, and he grimaced.

"I talked to Barshai," he said, quickly.

Taras shook himself, looking around, trying to decide where to sit.

"He answered the phone."

He rejected the nearby chairs, and the chaise, finally deciding to just sit on the floor near Ilarion. Taras grabbed the bottle of cognac first, and sat it between them.

"He's not a bad guy, Barshai. You know, polite and shit. Doesn't hold a grudge."

Taras eased himself to the floor. Touching distance of Lasha, if he reached out, just a little.

"He said it was raining in Leningrad too," he added.

He felt something strange pang in his chest, and he looked at Isaev suddenly, searching.

Taras didn't know what he was looking for, and wasn't sure if he wanted to find it.

"I guess...he's used to you being around."

Date: 2008-09-17 09:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Lasha's eyes had drifted into a state of semi-lidded ease, but now his brow lifted slightly.

"Da," he said, offhand, "I suppose he could be. But he's made of tougher stuff than you'd surmise."

He paused, taking a measured drink.

"You like him?"

Ilarion sought Taras's gaze and studied his expression.

"You should like him. I do."

He paused, lazily.

"I like you too."

Date: 2008-09-17 09:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Taras glanced away.

He rubbed his calf suddenly, like it pained him, like a rubdown after a workout.

His pulse was thrumming, hot in his chest.

"All right," he whispered, barely aloud.

After a moment, he raised his jaw, nodding.

"All right. You're good too, Lasha. You're my comrade."

His shoulders twitched. It had become entirely too hot in the room, or at least where he was sitting, right next to the fireplace, which still radiated quite a bit of heat even though the fire had died down.

Taras unzipped the light jacket and pulled it off his shoulders, exposing tattooed arms and the black cotton tank he wore to work out. The top of the tiger's head was visible under his collar.

Taras tossed his jacket aside, glancing at the fireplace again.

He knew his and Isaev's idea of comfortable room temperate varied greatly.

"You want a little more wood on there? I can throw on a log or two."

Date: 2008-09-17 10:06 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ilarion watched as Oleksei shed his jacket, revealing his roadmap of criminal life, and the muscled bulk that roiled quietly beneath.

"If you like."

He was well proportioned, Oleksei. Strong and substantive, like Andrei.

Ilarion resisted the urge to touch the interlocking ornaments on his arm for a moment, then did it anyway.

"Now these," he drawled, "These I like."

He paused.

"I'll have to show you how mine healed some day."

Date: 2008-09-17 04:34 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Taras went still.

His skin tingled in the wake of Isaev's touch, the brush of light fingertips across his tattoos.

"I'd like that," he said, after a moment.

He dropped his gaze to Ilarion's chest, where the weight of the grey wool uniform hid all but the suggestion of lean, graceful muscle, never mind the tattoo. Taras tried to imagine it healed, without the flush of inflamed skin, onyx on pure ivory, the watchful eyes accentuating the subtle sculpt of Isaev's build.

"I remember, but it's not the same as seeing it in person."

Taras took in a slow breath.

He glanced up, and met Isaev's eyes.

"Besides...Anya hasn't seen it yet, da?"

Date: 2008-09-18 02:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Lasha shrugged affably.

"What does it matter to Anya," he said. "She only wants one thing."

He reached up with one hand and began to unknot his tie, slowly, leisurely.

"No time like the present."

Date: 2008-09-18 04:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Taras found his gaze drawn to Isaev's long, tapered fingers, watching Ilarion work loose the knot of silk with idle tugs.

"Okei," he said, quietly. His voice sounded strange.

Taras cleared his throat.

"You're right. Might as well, while we're thinking about it."

He shifted where he sat, leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.

"What did - " he started, breaking off with a scowl.

What did Barshai think, he'd almost asked.

Ilarion's eyes were keen behind low lids, watching him.

Taras shook himself.

"What find, to keep it from drying out? Lotion or ointment or something like I said, right?"

He nodded.

"We kept everything real clean so it should have healed quick, no problems."

Date: 2008-09-22 02:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Lasha didn't reply, just smiled vaguely and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"I think you'll be pleased with your work, Oleksei."

He shrugged, pausing to shrug off his uniform jacket and set it aside, so that he could proceed.

"I know I am."

Date: 2008-09-22 03:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Taras nodded slowly, watching him.

"Khorosho," he murmured.

He reached out blindly for his drink and brought it to his mouth, but only a few drops hit his lips.

Taras scowled. He grabbed the bottle, pouring himself another.

He sipped.

"Yeah, I've been wondering how the ink took."

His gaze lingered on Isaev's long fingers, which worked at each button precisely.

"Maybe it's a little late to tell you, but I haven't done a lot of tattoos."

Date: 2008-09-22 03:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ilarion's eyes narrowed.

"Then you're lucky," he said.

He chased the buttons of his shirt down to the navel, deliberately, then flicked it open, exposing his chest.

After a moment, he touched the slightly raised edge of the design, tracing it along the upper half of his pectoralis.

"What do you think?"

Date: 2008-09-22 04:01 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
"Maybe I'm just good," Taras said.

His gaze ran over Isaev's bared chest, taking in the india ink tattoo, jet black on flawless ivory skin. The lines were crisp and smoothly curved, and the eyes themselves were balanced. Proportioned right for Ilarion's chest.

Taras nodded, pleased.

"You should..."

His free hand twitched, but he closed it into a fist.

" should take your shirt off. That's how it's meant to be seen."

Date: 2008-09-22 04:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ilarion kept his gaze steady.

"All right," he said, after a moment.

He pushed the crisp white shirt off one shoulder, then the other.

It streamed onto the floor and lay, discarded.

"Does everything look right to you now?"

Date: 2008-09-22 04:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Taras let his eyes run down Ilarion's torso, then back up.

"Da," he said, quietly. "Looks good."

After a moment, he set his cognac down on the floor and moved to Lasha's side, drawing close. His knee rested lightly against Ilarion's thigh.

He leaned forward, peering at the tattoo.

"Is it...okei if I touch it?"

Date: 2008-09-22 05:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ilarion smiled, sharklike, amused at Oleksei's rapt attention to his work.

"By all means."

He turned toward Oleksei, chest displayed in wordless offering.

"Touch at will."

Date: 2008-09-22 06:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Taras glanced up, meeting Ilarion's eyes.

"All right."

After a moment, he looked down again, studying the graceful lines. Taras reached out, hesitant at first, then he brushed his fingertips across the arc of one tattooed eye, following its curve, keeping his touch careful, and light. The skin was lightly ridged, like a scar.

"It healed perfect," he murmured.

He paused, letting his hand come to rest against Isaev's chest. He could feel Lasha's pulse beating against his thumb.

"Feels good."

Taras kept his eyes lowered, fixed on the tattoo.

"Fits your chest like you were born with it."
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