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Jan. 19th, 2009 02:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taras_olekseiTaras paused in front of Liadov's office.
He was on his way back from the gym, after a good, hard workout. He wore his black tank and a pair of loose pants, and had a towel draped around his neck.
He'd gotten some stares and sidelong glances in the gym, soldiers who eyed his tattoos. Taras supposed that the worst ones were covered, but even just his bare arms and shoulders were enough to hint at his criminal resume, especially the barbed wire around his biceps, and snake and dagger on his forearm. Those said enough.
Taras hadn't been intending show any overt sign that he'd been up north, not in front of civilized people, but after the scene between Lasha and Liadov in the mess hall that morning, he figured the soldiers needed to see that the Ministry employed more than fancy pricks whose idea of fighting was rubbing up against a wall and grabbing each other's arms. And besides, all that whispering had been a little queer.
He felt good. Energized, muscles thrumming with energy to spare. It had been a while since he'd had a proper workout. Not since before he'd arrived. He'd hit the weights and kettlebells, and done some calisthenics. Now he could have a shower and a snack, and call it a night.
Taras eyed Liadov's door.
The fucker was probably gone by now, off to mess, off to bed, whatever he did when he wasn't stalking through the halls and pounding on people's doors. Maybe at the pathologist's lab. But then again, Liadov worked some strange hours.
Taras couldn't hear anything in particular beyond the door. He stood there for a few more moments, wondering if he should just break in again, but there was no point if no one was inside. He was about to turn away when he heard a noise.
It was soft, but had the particular ring of struck glass. Taras frowned. He hesitated for another moment, then knocked on the door, not loud, but polite.
He was on his way back from the gym, after a good, hard workout. He wore his black tank and a pair of loose pants, and had a towel draped around his neck.
He'd gotten some stares and sidelong glances in the gym, soldiers who eyed his tattoos. Taras supposed that the worst ones were covered, but even just his bare arms and shoulders were enough to hint at his criminal resume, especially the barbed wire around his biceps, and snake and dagger on his forearm. Those said enough.
Taras hadn't been intending show any overt sign that he'd been up north, not in front of civilized people, but after the scene between Lasha and Liadov in the mess hall that morning, he figured the soldiers needed to see that the Ministry employed more than fancy pricks whose idea of fighting was rubbing up against a wall and grabbing each other's arms. And besides, all that whispering had been a little queer.
He felt good. Energized, muscles thrumming with energy to spare. It had been a while since he'd had a proper workout. Not since before he'd arrived. He'd hit the weights and kettlebells, and done some calisthenics. Now he could have a shower and a snack, and call it a night.
Taras eyed Liadov's door.
The fucker was probably gone by now, off to mess, off to bed, whatever he did when he wasn't stalking through the halls and pounding on people's doors. Maybe at the pathologist's lab. But then again, Liadov worked some strange hours.
Taras couldn't hear anything in particular beyond the door. He stood there for a few more moments, wondering if he should just break in again, but there was no point if no one was inside. He was about to turn away when he heard a noise.
It was soft, but had the particular ring of struck glass. Taras frowned. He hesitated for another moment, then knocked on the door, not loud, but polite.
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 05:56 pm (UTC)"Then you already have what happened last time," he said, pointedly. "And neither of us wants anyone to hear that."
Especially Isaev.
He yanked Liadov's belt open, hard, then undid his fly, reaching in immediately, seeking Liadov's cock.
"There. Da. That's good."
Liadov's prick felt smooth and hot against his palm. It was arousing just to touch it, to feel it rise and harden.
It reminded him of the Zone, but at the same time, it was different. The furtive urgency was not present, and neither was the fear of discovery, either by the guards, or other prisoners who would take advantage of their distraction. Somehow that urgency had made it less depraved, more about need than will.
Taras frowned slightly, pausing.
He pushed open Liadov's pants and looked down at his arching cock. It was larger than average, and curved gracefully under his touch. It was crowned by a pelt of dark flaxen hair that looked extremely thick and soft.
After a moment, he looked up again, and then leaned in, bringing his lips to the full curve of Liadov's mouth.
"We'll do it like in the Zone," he whispered. "I'll jerk you off up against the wall."
He took Liadov's cock more firmly in hand, and began to stroke him.
"But slow."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 12:04 am (UTC)Their lips misaligned faintly, but it didn't matter at this juncture.
"Yes," he bit out lightly above his own breath, shuddering. "I like it just like that. Slow and hard."
Liadov felt the graze of his nipples inside his shirt, stiff and sensitized as he undulated against Oleksei's fist.
"Fortuitous...that you happened to lock the door," he whispered, haltingly, with a knowing smile.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 08:00 am (UTC)He leaned into Liadov's side, letting him feel his weight, and the potent trained strength of his physique. Liadov arched against him in turn, body lithe and yielding, but solid.
Taras kissed him.
He let it be slow and hard. His tongue in Lidaov's mouth, making the kiss deep, matching the languor with which he stroked Liadov's cock.
There was something very open and responsive about Liadov. He did not try to hold himself back, but instead always seemed driven by an achingly restless hunger.
"This is crazy," he breathed, again, between kisses. "I think you're crazy."
Taras rubbed his crotch into Liadov's hip, grinding with raw, vulgar need.
"How'd you get the taste for this, Liadov? Rough like this. With someone like me."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 10:27 am (UTC)"It's natural, isn't it," he breathed, closing his eyes, "for a man to crave his antithesis."
The criminal's hand was like a pleasurable vice, inexorably pumping his stiff and aching cock. His weight was gratifying in its muscular density.
"Some kind of insanity, perhaps," he whispered, voice low and lush from the drink. "Respect and admiration for my quarry."
The sensation in his loins racheted up without warning and he hissed out a soft, pretty curse through his teeth.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 11:47 pm (UTC)Taras growled appreciatively, leaning in, flushed with adrenaline, breathing harder with the effort.
"I like it when you fancy pricks talk dirty like that."
He half-bit kisses across Liadov's jaw, licking at the skin of his neck. The taste of Liadov was salty and potent, and went straight to his head.
Taras jacked Liadov's prick with renewed vigor, feeling his response.
"I think I'd like to see you naked sometime, Liadov."
He tightened his fingers around Liadov's one remaining trapped wrist.
"What do you think of that?"
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 12:41 am (UTC)Oleksei's massive fist ruled him, won him over, brought out his careless and hedonist core in unvarnished sincerity.
"I think that can be arranged."
The scent of expensive cologne emanated from Oleksei's collar and neck, warmed by his arousal and exertion. On Oleksei the cologne didn't smell the same as it did on other men Nika had known. There was more testosterone mixed in, a wilder, earthier scent.
It was the difference, he thought fleetingly, between pedigreed and game. Liadov was nothing if not an epicure of masculine flesh.
Proximity made Nika feel drunker even than he was; pheromones different than his own, more raw.
"Finish me with your body, zek," he whispered, jaggedly persuasive. "Let me feel you."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 04:06 am (UTC)"I like that."
His blood surged at the thought of it. Taras did like that, the rough, hard contact, feeling the resistance of another man's strength against his own. Liadov was tall. Slightly more solid than Isaev, shoulders just a little broader. The kind of man Taras didn't have to worry about crushing.
He released Liadov's cock and wrist and reached for his own waistband. The workout pants had a simple drawstring tie, and this he loosened so he could push his pants down to mid thigh, exposing tattooed hips, and hard, jutting cock.
Taras grabbed Liadov's waistband and thrust it lower. The thick hair around Liadov's cock made him look feral, a throwback to a more savage breed of man.
He dug his knee against Liadov's for leverage, thrusting against him, grunting at the initial, heavy impact of their cocks.
Taras pressed his face against the side of Liadov's neck.
"There," he growled. "Like that. Hard like that, da? Match me."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 10:15 pm (UTC)Soft and hard, all at once, the rough graze of forbidden skin, firing off stars, ebbing and peaking in unpredictable waves like the tide of an impending ocean.
It should have been illegal, such a feeling. In fact, his mind bit out wryly, it was.
Liadov didn't care about that, never had. He cared about this moment, and the overwhelming onus of the sparks they were grinding between them. He worked in counterpoint to the Captain's rough cadence, overlapping it with equal vigor.
Now free, his hands demanded to touch, reinforce, redouble in sin. Complicit.
Seizing his companion all over, almost frenzied for a moment, feeling the unyielding brunt of his muscle. Nika grasped Oleksei by the arms, the shoulders, the hips, and finally, the flanks, curving his fingers hard against the rounded strength of his glutes, pulling him closer with an urgency unbecoming of a chilly ministry official.
It didn't cause him any undue dismay.
Rather the opposite.
"This is good," he whispered, guttural. "Really good."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 12:32 am (UTC)Liadov's grip was strong and rough, and he manhandled Taras with an almost violent hunger, raw and savage in a way that Taras had not guessed Liadov could be capable of, perhaps because Taras could not imagine it of Isaev.
Taras knew he wrote them off as much the same, fancy elitist pricks who seemed to have a taste for dangerous men, men who knew what it was to live like beasts, for survival alone, when sex was not an indulgence, but a visceral need.
But that was how Liadov touched him now, with a need Taras knew intimately.
He was rough with Liadov in turn, in a way he somehow could not imagine touching Ilarion. He thrust up against Liadov, pinning him back against the wall, bringing his hands up to rake through Liadov's thick hair, lips catching Liadov's mouth and jaw hungrily.
Liadov gave as good as he got, matched him, the motion of his damp, heated loins against Taras' potent. Their cocks met and struck, rubbing the length of each other, grinding against the hollows between thigh and crotch. He could feel the scrape of Liadov's hair against his glans every time he thrust.
Taras shuddered, moving harder now, hips driving into Liadov's.
"I like it like this," he bit out. "It reminds me I'm alive."
He rasped hot breath against Liadov's ear.
"Nika," he whispered.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 05:28 am (UTC)Hearing his name invoked startled him, got him where he lived. Unexpected, and almost like the beginnings of confraternity, but ultimately purely erotic under the circumstances.
His loins ached fiercely, building to a peak.
His hands clenched, as Oleksei's rough mouth trespassed aggressively all over his jaw, neck, mouth. Liadov tilted his head back and offered his throat, giving himself up to it with a shudder.
Their chests pressed together, uniforms warring against each other, a battle of brass and leather shoulder holsters.
He felt it cresting.
"That's it. That's it, Oleksei," Nika moaned, heedless of cliche, at this, the eternal moment. "God yes, make me come."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 06:35 am (UTC)Taras could feel it as if it were his own. The rising tension was telegraphed through the thrust of their chests and the shudder of their thighs and the clench of Liadov's fingers around his ass. Taras' own body ached with the intimacy of it.
He growled out a reply, wordless and feral.
Taras grabbed Liadov's ass in turn, then drove their hips together with a single, savage thrust, battering his jutting cock and powerful hips against Liadov's most intimate places like a storm at the threshold.
He gasped against Liadov's throat, feeling the telling shudder.
"Mark me, Nika."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 06:56 am (UTC)Conceivably, soldiers might come knocking on the door, demanding to know if he was all right, but given all that he and Kirill had gotten up to, it seemed patently unlikely.
And he didn't care.
Almost at once it was staunched by Oleksei's mouth, and he didn't fight that either, but seized the Captain's jaw with both hands and welcomed the penetration of his tongue hungrily as his loins contracted like a fist and flexed and buckled and imploded.
He shot in a blinding rush of heat and pleasure, issuing milky release between the grinding panels of their smooth granite flesh, the slickness of his seed spreading luxuriantly over the faintly furred trail of Oleksei's brutely built stomach.
"Don't stop," he managed to bite out, harshly, between the furious collisons of their mouths, closing his eyes tightly. "Wreck us both. Ruin us."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 07:56 am (UTC)He knew he could no more stop than he could keep his mouth off Liadov's.
His hunger was relentless as he battered Liadov's body, each thrust sending shocks of heat that seared through him, building, more pleasurable than the next. Liadov shuddered and thrust back against him, still matching his need thrust for thrust, his breath rough against Taras' skin.
Taras moved like a beast now, rutting against Liadov, letting instinct take over. This was hunger in its purest form. There was no holding back.
Another rough collision of their bodies, and he felt his groin contract. He came, violent and messy, splattering the already slickened skin of their stomachs, painting their cocks and thighs with heat.
Taras groaned, gripping Liadov's hips, shuddering against him.
"Good," he bit out, after a few seconds, through clenched teeth. "That was good."
Taras pressed his face against Liadov's neck. He could feel their groins pulsing against each other, skin clinging damply, their issue mixed and smeared between them.
He exhaled, and let his breathing slow.
"You fuck like a zek, Liadov. Maybe you're more like me than you think."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 08:20 am (UTC)Taras' warm breath on his neck mirrored the afterglow in his muscles and loins.
"I've fucked not a few zeks," he managed quietly. "Maybe something rubbed off."
Poor choice of words, and his lips slipped silently into a faint smile at his own expense.
"Or maybe you're more like me, instead. Just another fancy MVD prick."
He paused, making no immediate effort to move.
"At least I'm not rushing to pull out my handkerchief and buff my stomach," he remarked, voice mild; light and dry.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 09:59 am (UTC)Taras found that the thought was idle, but not repulsive. He reached between them and gathered fluid on the tips of his fingers, then brought them to his lips so he could taste it. Not like his alone, and not like Isaev's. Liadov's seed had a distinct tang that Taras did not have proper words to describe.
"Though that's not bad."
He let himself relax, lulled by his climax, resting his muscular bulk against Liadov's lean frame, feeling no resistance, only mutual ease.
"You surprise me, though. Or maybe I surprise myself, around you."
Taras' brow knit briefly.
"I wouldn't mind it if neither of us had our clothes on right now."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 11:01 am (UTC)That didn't exactly surprise Nika. He'd witnessed a similar phenomenon on numerous occasions, among men with hands no less callused and bloodstained.
Oleksei's action, however, did take him aback for a blink, though he did not betray it.
He might have remarked upon the degree of ever-warping twist in Oleksei's supposedly rigid lust structure, but thought any editorial comment best left unmade.
Instead, he cautiously raised his hand and cupped the back of Oleksei's head, feeling the softly bristled crop, running his hand over it in a careless ellipse. It was an absent, unloaded gesture.
"It's the way I prefer it," he said, simply. "And yet uniforms do have their cachet."
Nika let his head fall back against the cinderblock. He'd lost his cap at some point, and his head felt unseasonably bare, his hair curving and waving around his face and shoulders like some hedonist romantic era poet.
Fancy prick indeed, he thought dryly.
Aloud, he drawled, "I'd like to read your rap sheet, Oleksei. Next time I may demand a full viewing."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 05:45 pm (UTC)"All right. I want you to know who I am."
It was right, he thought. Because of Lasha.
He wondered if anything inked on his skin would surprise Liadov, or give him pause. Lasha had named him a murderer in front of Liadov, upon their first official meeting, and Taras had not denied it. Knowing that did not give Liadov pause now, and for a man like him, there could not be many things that were worse.
Taras supposed he would find out.
He gazed at Liadov for a few moments, watching thoughts flicker behind his low-lidded gaze. Liadov looked relaxed, clearly sated, maybe almost amused. This was Liadov with his guard down, with no resentment or ire.
It reminded Taras of the Zone, and the way that pacts and promises were made.
There was no bloodletting to seal oaths. Instead, men made their deals in the aftermath of orgasm, and consecrated them in the mixing of their seed.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he raised his hand, and brushed his fingers through the thick forelock that fell across Liadov's face, just enough to uncover a half-hidden eye. The motion felt strange, like the way he would touch Lasha, but he carried it through.
His brow thickened, drawing low.
"Are you going to come to Leningrad?" he asked, quietly, letting his voice carry the weight the question deserved. "Or are you going to fight it?"
no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:19 am (UTC)Resignation was blunted by fading euphoria.
"Know when to take a punch, don't you," he said, with wry appreciation.
Oleksei's fingers in his hair were the last thing he expected from the interlude, but it felt nice, in contrast to the difficult question.
"To be honest, I haven't decided."
Nika paused.
"I don't think it matters what I do in the end, do you?"
no subject
Date: 2009-01-27 06:00 pm (UTC)"...it matters to you right now."
He took in a slow, even breath, feeling the solidity and warmth of Liadov's body against his, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the dampness of his loins. Taras let his hand drop and rest lightly against Liadov's shoulder.
Taras held Liadov's gaze. His eyes were green with a touch of grey, like some living, verdant thing trapped under frost. Kind of a nice color as those things went, he supposed.
"He wants you back. But he doesn't want you to...resent him."
He paused.
"More than you already do," he clarified.
Taras grimaced fleetingly, then shook his head.
"He told me he's going to talk to Aleksandr, and ask him to rescind the order."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 03:03 am (UTC)"If that's true, I suppose it shows either remorse or innocence."
It was an odd conversation to be having. He was extremely aware of Oleksei's musclar thighs, settled flush against his own, and the spent, too-intimate feeling in his body and mind.
Oleksei was an unlikely carrier pigeon for Isaev to send on his behalf. That meant Oleksei must be giving him this information of his own volition, unbeknownst to Lasha.
Liadov couldn't fathom a motive, precisely, although he assumed it was not malevolent.
"We'll see, won't we."
He paused, with a faint smile.
"There's one thing I didn't tell Ilarion. If this comes through, and I get pulled back to Leningrad, I'll be his superior."
Nika paused significantly, looking Oleksei in his mismatched eyes.
"Yours too."
no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 05:57 am (UTC)"Aleksandr's promoting you," he said, not really a question.
He thought about that. In his reality, the idea of Liadov in the Leningrad bureau had never been tangible. Instead, Liadov had existed only in the past, and had left behind evidence like a crime scene, old reports filed away, notes written in an elegantly slanted hand, a presence that lingered, especially around Lasha.
Now that he knew the man, it was easier to picture Liadov there. Lasha's office had once been Liadov's, just as Taras' office had once been Lasha's.
He felt something twinge in his stomach.
"I know this - "
Taras glanced down briefly, and let his hand run down Liadov's arm, to graze his naked hip.
"Is different than that."
After a moment, he lifted his gaze back to Liadov's.
"But would you have a problem with me being there, doing that work?"
If everyone got what he deserved, I doubt very much you'd have this job.
Liadov had said those words to him, only days before.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 06:48 am (UTC)His tapered hand found Oleksei's heavy jaw and tipped it up with rough gentlesse, caressing the stubbled, angular contour with his fingers.
Taras met his gaze with unflinching steadyness, bi-colored eyes ominously disparate, and Nika marveled at their oddity. Both managed to be somehow utterly cryptic in sentiment, yet intent upon purpose. Both were somehow clear and clouded at the same time.
He was close enough to kiss.
Liadov's voice lowered, sueding, unwittingly gaining MVD menace and gravitasse.
"You mean, would I override Isaev's obviously favoritistic appointment and send you back to your friends in the underworld?"
no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 08:32 am (UTC)It was something Taras recognized immediately. Tone of voice, touch, eye contact, they could all be used to establish dominance. Liadov was the kind of man who understood such things, as innately as he did, Taras got the feeling. This was not so much a challenge as it was a test, but in that way, it was both. Liadov needed to know how Taras would respond to his new superior.
A dominant man could not allow himself to be constantly challenged. It looked bad, and undermined his dominance. That was something Taras understood.
Taras felt his pulse stir slightly, in a way that reminded him of sex.
"I don't have friends there," he said, voice quiet and even.
He held Liadov's gaze, unwavering.
"I only have one friend."
Taras let that stand for a beat, then exhaled, feeling the play of their muscles against each other. Neither he nor Liadov was tense.
He nodded, slowly.
"But yeah. Would you send me back? Or keep that always hanging over me, like that chelovik with the sword?"
no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 09:13 am (UTC)"Believe it or not, I respect Isaev's autonomy to some degree. I don't intend to undermine any of Ilarion's blatnoy pet projects that he began in my absence. Though you can be sure I'll gently check him from initiating new ones."
He paused, sliding his hand down from Oleksei's face to his broad, carved pectoralis, cupping and fondling the jutting muscle brazenly.
"No, Oleksei. You'll stay and do the job you were hired to do."
He raised an eyebrow.
"No scimitar."
Another beat.
"Does that suit?"
no subject
Date: 2009-01-28 10:17 am (UTC)Taras nodded, firmly. He did not thank Liadov. That was not the way it worked.
He inhaled, long and deep, feeling Liadov's hand rise against his chest. There was something about Liadov's touch that was both aggressive and erotic. Definitely possessive. Taras felt his nipples tighten.
"He needs someone like me. He needs something simple," he murmured.
Taras stroked Liadov's hip, his fingers moving slowly, firm, like a rubdown, though he skimmed the taut muscle of Liadov's backside.
"He's my krysha. He was there for me when no one else was."
He leaned closer, canting his head slightly, so that he spoke nearly against Liaov's lips.
"...you understand where my loyalty is."