Date: 2009-09-11 07:33 pm (UTC)
Ilarion breathed out, slowly.

Oleksei's hand on his prick was heavy and practiced, well beyond the little practice he'd had with Ilarion. He knew that had come from the colonies; Oleksei had even admitted it.

"Ironic. Many of the skills you learned in prison have transferred rather well to working for me."

He closed his eyes and arched against Taras's fist, feeling the shudders of sensation run down through him like water through the ornate gutters of the MVD building.

"Of course it's all right," Ilarion responded belatedly. "How can it not be right when nothing we do is wrong?"

Oleksei said it as if it had been a point of contention.

Ilarion supposed it had.

"I'm glad you've finally come to your senses about that."

His fingers pushed beneath the band of Oleksei's pants, reaching deep and grasping his length possessively.

"You like it hard, as I recall."
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