April 1993, British Embassy in Belgrade

They had been back in the Balkans for no more than a generous month, after a trip through Tuscany. Most of the wounds had healed over, but never fully closed. Healed enough, to treat each other once more with the well-worn and comfortable ease, and without the need to step on eggshells or to avoid the other's hurt like barbed wire across no man's land.

Duties were less harrowing this time, and done with a new-found detachment, carefully avoiding to get drawn into anything emotionally. It was hard to develop a distance, though.

A month, until one day the Baroness contacted Dan, letting him know she would be in Belgrade, and inviting the two of them to a day reception in the embassy. Something Dan dreaded, despite his considerable experience in the area, and something Vadim was not sure about.

* * *

Of course it was cold, miserable and drizzling lightly. April weather wasn't any better in the Balkans than in Britain, spring or not. The crowds of illustrious guests were huddling under a series of heated tents, set up on the large sloping lawns that ran from the impressive residence towards the formidable gardens. The four larger tents in the middle were housing the buffet and - most importantly - the drinks, with waiters circulating amongst the guests.

Dan was lingering around the buffet, having both his dessert plate and his glass replenished at regular intervals. Bored to the core, until every bone in his body was dried and discarded, screaming to be let out of this goddamned place. Yet he stayed, listened half-heartedly to the pipers while indulging in pained smiles, trying to look like a decent human being who even remotely fitted into the gathering.

Watching the way the Baroness made small talk with admirable grace and uncanny ability, now and then glancing over to him and he remembered each time to flash a smile and to nod back at her. He liked her, no question, old friend and all that, but to blackmail him into getting into this bloody stiff and formal suit and to stand around like a piece of furniture? He'd get her to pay for that. Friendship was one thing, but torture quite another.

Disgruntled and already having frightened off a couple of dutiful small-talkers, Dan had his glass refilled once more, before letting his eyes travel across the room.

Men, women, suits and posh dresses, a veritable congregation of the crème de la crème. All goddamned motherfucking boring wankstains of a dreadfully unbearable stiff and …

Dan sighed. Going for every swear word under the sun wasn't going to make this event pass any quicker nor the wasted time more bearable.

He suddenly caught a glance from the Baroness, and he tried to smile back at her, if that grimace could be called a smile. The corners of his lips appeared pained but quirked up, while his eyes were swimming in dark pools of misery. His mood didn't increase at all when he realised she was almost smirking at him. How dared she. She was laughing at him! What had he done to deserve this? He growled beneath his breath, seeking to soothe his frazzled nerves and threadbare ego with a replenished glass of white wine, holding it out for another refill. He didn't even like that sissy crap, would much prefer a beer, but better to get drunk on anything, than staying sober. He was so bored he was ready to cry.

He couldn't find solace in Vadim's companionable misery, either, because the goddamned bastard was seemingly enjoying himself. As much as his Russkie could 'enjoy' himself outside of beds and other suitable furniture that withstood two - or more - heavy men. Dan was watching Vadim across the room, the broad back in the brand new black suit, white-blond hair neatly shorn, listening to some small-talking big bozos and talking about probably absolutely nothing. Bastard. Wanker. Fucking cunt. Deserting his own partner for the glitz and glory of half dead crusties that kept exchanging meaningless pleasantries.

Dan growled once more to himself, turning away, when suddenly presented with something in his view. Black-breasted. Crisp and neat, and yet another one of those same-self suits. Lifting his eyes, Dan found himself scowling into a friendly smiling face that shockingly flaunted a fashionable three-day stubble beneath dark hair. A rebellious feature in an otherwise a perfectly respectable outfit.

"If you ask me now what I think about the bloody weather I am going to fucking scream!" Dan snarled at the tall and gangly stranger, who probably wanted nothing but refill his glass or pop a couple of 'nibbles'.

To Dan's surprise the man didn't frown, let alone look shocked at a profanity in such a refined place. Instead he laughed, just like that, and lit his cigarette, then shushed, while looking behind himself, as if he weren't allowed to show any signs of amusement.

"I take it you are not one of the 'regulars', then." The man's eyes had a certain twinkle to them, and the corners of his lips kept twitching as he spoke.

"Thank fuck, no." Dan growled, slightly calmed down. "I'm here because of a promise to a friend."

"Lucky you," the man put the glass down and wiped his hand on one of the starched napkins. "That means you can get away with an escape plan at the ready." He grinned, and Dan found himself intrigued by this person. The humour was completely unexpected.

"You sure you didn't take the wrong turn at the security gates?" Dan twisted his brows, looking straight into the other's face. The man was as tall as himself and that in itself was rare.

The man laughed again, quietly this time. "Oh dear, where are my manners. No, I'm afraid I do belong here. I'm Markus Kaltenbrunn," holding his hand out to Dan, who shook it, pleasantly surprised at the strong grip, and at the same time noticing a cursory glance at his scarred left hand.

"German?"

"No, Austrian." Markus grinned, letting go of Dan's hand.

"Almost the same," Dan shook his head, dark hair, silver streaked at the temples, just as unruly and wild as ever. He couldn't help but smirk at Markus' mock-shocked expression. "Nicht gleich?" Dan offered, venturing into the rusty remnants of his German.

"Not at all." Markus chuckled, "never call an Austrian a German, and I don't even dare to tell you what might possibly happen if you did that to a Swiss. I reckon World War III would be nothing compared to the reaction."

Dan laughed, catching a surprised glance from the Baroness, which made him shut up immediately. No fun. Copy, Ma'm. "Since I've already had my foot squarely in my mouth, I reckon I can't make it any worse." He flashed a grin, "you don't seem like one of those small-talking mummies. What the hell are you doing at the function?"

Markus looked as if he were going to laugh aloud once more, but caught himself and tapped a finger against the side of his nose. "If I told you that I'd have to kill you."

"Oh, really?" Dan let his arched brows shoot up to the dark hairline, "you and whose army?" His grin broke through the mock anger, twisting the scar in his face.

"My admin." Markus nodded, as gravely as a man could, whose face threatened to be split with a grin. "I can tell you, you don't want to mess with her. All of five foot nothing and looks like a porcelain doll, but if she gets going …"

"I'm shaking in my boots," Dan smirked, hardly noticing that his glass was being refilled. "Sounds like a formidable foe." Taking another mouthful of the wine, the stuff still didn't taste any better now than it had tasted, ah, a bottle or so ago. "What about her boss?" Gesturing towards Markus with his chin.

"I might tell you that," Markus grinned, "but only if I knew who I'm actually talking to."

"Oh shit." Dan exclaimed, overheard by an extremely distinguished looking French Colonel in white dress uniform, whose fine brows furrowed in disapproval at the Anglo-Saxon profanity.

"I'm sorry, completely forgot. I'm Dan. One of the mercs, but that's obviously not why I'm here. I used to be Baroness de Vilde, Her Excellency's, head of security, in Kabul and Dubai, and am still kind of working for her." He gestured to the Baroness.

"Pleased to meet you, Dan." Markus took a sip of his drink, and smiled.

Dan protested, "No, no, pleased to meet you. I was going insane with boredom. I've been standing around at functions too many times for her. Drives me bloody mad."

"I can imagine." Holding his now empty glass out to one of the waiters, Markus chuckled. "Quite intriguing, though. How did you become a mercenary after working for a British embassy?"

Dan shook his head, downing some more of the wine. "Uh-uh. No telling, not before you've answered my question of what makes you a regular guest at these dos."

Markus managed to look almost properly chastised for a moment or two, before offering a shrug and a grin. "I'm the head of delegation of the Red Cross in the Balkans. One of the 'perks' of the job is to practice small-talk at these functions." Adding, when Dan grinned at him in an altogether evil fashion, "ha, ha, very funny. I can see you are a very sympathetic man."

Dan didn't answer, just laughed, hiding face and sound behind his glass and hand, all the while shaking his head, mane flying.

"I think I must have made a funnier joke than I thought." Markus looked as if he alternated between being be- and amused.

"No, sorry, guess 'sympathetic' is a bit of an insider joke."

"Do tell."

"Long story, how many hours have you got?"

Markus looked at his watch, pondering in an exaggerated fashion, "I reckon this is going on for another couple of hours."

"Not enough." Dan shook his head again, before emptying his glass.

"What about a short version then?"

Thinking for a moment, Dan's dark eyes suddenly took on a wicked glint. "I could give you the extremely shortened one."

Markus grinned, "go right ahead."

"Well, you asked." Dan shrugged, "don't complain afterwards." He took a deep breath:

"Once upon a time there was a Scottish SAS soldier in Kabul. He met a Soviet Spetsnaz soldier. They were enemies first, then shagged for nine years, fell in love at some stage. Dragons, battles, and damsels in distress in between, until an evil wizard took the Spetsnaz away. The Scot and the damsel battled the vile foes, until the Russian returned, but the evil spell still had him in its claws. More dragons, battles, knights in not-so shiny armour later, the spell got broken, the Princes got reunited, and our Russian and Scotsman kind of lived happily ever after." Dan flashed a toothy grin.

Markus' brows had crept up his forehead, "You are taking the mickey, surely."

"Nope!" Dan grinned, "I warned you, you wanted to hear the story." Twisting around Markus to spot the broad black-suited back with the blond shorn head, he pointed at Vadim. "The proof's over there. My Russian. One of the two princes."

Markus craned his neck, stared at Vadim, turned his head back, and Dan saw an expression on his face that was entirely different to anything he had expected. He was confused at first, tried to decipher if it meant disgust, annoyance, disbelief, or …

"Your partner?" Markus asked with an altogether new sound in his voice. Unguarded.

"Aye," Dan nodded, still frantically decoding the non-verbal message, "Vadim. Got a British passport now, thanks to the Baroness. He works as a merc, too."

He watched how Markus's lips pursed a millisecond, and then the Adam's apple moved, when he swallowed hard. All of a sudden it clicked and Dan realised in a flash what on earth he had been trying to decipher: the unexpected.

"You married?" Dan asked out of the blue, catching Markus off guard.

"Uh … no."

Dan grinned. The evening had just become exponentially more interesting. Deliberately taking a step forward, entering the other's personal space while reaching for a strawberry tart, which he could have picked up from somewhere else. Markus didn't flinch, nothing, and Dan's suited arm brushed along equally fine cloth, as he pulled back slowly. Chewing the sweet morsel while watching a badly hidden intake of breath. Ah, yes. Just as he'd thought. Thirty seconds and the amusing banter had turned into something else entirely.

If it had worked with Frenchies, Yanks and Russkies, why not with an Austrian? The guy was admittedly in a completely different league, but sex was sex, no matter how fancy the man, and Dan had never believed in subtlety. Besides, the bottle of wine or more was helping him on the way.

He waited until Markus had his glass refilled, before throwing himself into the surprise attack.

"If I asked you if you knew of a place around here for a quickie, would you a) be disgusted at the suggestion, b) tell me to fuck off because I'm not your type or c) come with me?" Dan flashed a grin.

Markus' brows shot up, but to his credit he hesitated less than a second. "Option C."

Dan grinned, somewhat predatory, before catching another glance from the Baroness, which made him smooth his face back into a smile. No amusement, no fun, and definitely no sex. Copy, Ma'm!

"The question is where, though." Dan looked around the room, as if to try and find a suitable spot, right there and then.

"We might be missed." Markus followed Dan's glance for a moment.

"Depends on how long you define the duration of a quickie." Dan found what he had been looking for, made eye contact with Vadim, who acknowledged him briefly before continuing his conversation. Dan returned his attention immediately to the nicely spoken man with the enchanting accent, and who was still standing his ground with a bemused expression. Dan secretly admired the fact that the guy didn't appear to be remotely rattled. Perhaps the poker face came with the job, just like it did for Maggie.

"What about your partner?" Markus had caught Dan's glance to Vadim, who looked everything but the type who didn't mind if his lover shagged around.

"Vadim?" Dan shrugged, putting his glass down. "He knows I love him, but while love's love, so cock is cock." Straightening his suit jacket, Dan grinned at the other's perplexed expression. Eureka! He'd finally stirred up a reaction. "Does that answer your question?"

"I … guess." Markus followed suit, and put his glass down as well.

"Good." With one last glance towards the room, Dan turned his attention fully and exclusively onto Markus, the scar in his face twisting. "Lead the way." Snatching one of the pristine napkins off the table in an afterthought. "Wherever to. Soggy bushes? Broom cupboard?"

Markus hesitated for a moment, before he straightened up to the same impressive height as Dan's, starting to grin. "I know just the place, and it's neither wet not cramped." He headed out of the tent and towards the low-slung building with its rows of picture windows overlooking the garden. "There are two drawing rooms which should be empty, just before the dining room. All enfilade." Making pleasant conversation to not draw any attention, while Dan followed through the drizzling rain, nodding now and then, while trying to figure out if he felt the bottle-plus of wine or not, and what the hell 'enfilade' meant.

"I am sure the residence is deserted." Markus commented as he held the door open for Dan to step through.

"Only one way to find out." They walked along the hallway, with Dan following Markus, who seemed to know the layout very well. They soon reached the first drawing room, and Markus slowly opened the door. As expected, the large room was empty and steeped in a dim light. The daylight muted by heavy, floor-length curtains, either side of the swags and drapes that covered the picture windows.

"Seems safe enough." Markus commented, and Dan stepped inside, his grin growing to predatory proportions.

"You could say so." Shutting the door behind him, Dan moved forward, chest against chest, and Markus more than willingly stepping back, closer and closer towards the corner of the room, towards the floor length curtains, which barely moved when his back hit the heavy, blood red velvet. "Do you kiss, mein Herr?" Dan grinned toothily, a hand on each side of Markus' head, who swallowed, nodded and just grinned, not saying anything, as if he couldn't trust his voice.

Dan proceeded to do exactly what he had asked for, coaxing and demanding, soon kissing deeply, but light-heartedly and without the heart rending emotions, that kissing Vadim could bring. His hand dropped to Markus' fly, while he pressed against him, trapping his hand between their bodies, when it had found the rapidly hardening cock. He never let up the kissing, not even when he shifted his hips to blindly open the fly and push it apart, trousers out of the way and cotton shorts down, until his fingers closed around the cock, thumb rubbing precum into the crown. He broke the kiss and pulled back to grin at Markus, whose lips were parted, breathless, and with a somewhat glazed expression in his eyes.

Using his other hand, Dan was about to open his own fly, when Markus' hand joined in, swatting his own away. His grin grew, matched by the other man, who soon had him bared, which caused a raised a brow, encountering nothing but skin beneath the fine suit. "I prefer commando …" Dan murmured and Markus huffed a laugh, captured by Dan's tongue and lips, kissing as they stroked each other.

They were fast and needing, their movements soon turned demanding, and it was Dan who's hips jerked erratically, breath hitching, shallow and fast, when he came, soon, too soon, in a last thought swiftly turning to the side, away from suits and expensive fabrics, spoiling only the curtains as he came, not their clothing.

He was gasping for breath, kiss broken, about to concentrate on Markus, when a sudden sound in the hallway caught his attention. "Shit!" Muttered, he stared at Markus, who was hardly capable of intelligent thought. So close, his mind was taken over by lust and need. "Someone's coming." Even now, Dan caught the absurdity of the double meaning and he was simultaneously laughing, breathlessly struggling, and pushing Markus backwards, while trying to close his fly.

"What?" Markus protested feebly when he suddenly heard another noise, and the expression in his face turned from lust dazed to utterly shocked.

"Behind the curtain!" Dan hissed, shoving to make him move, but he didn't need to, because Markus was already hurrying behind the thick fabric, trying to steady the folds and keep the wet spill out of view at the same time. Dan just about managed to close his fly and straighten his suit, whispering, "keep the thought!" and the door opened.

He turned, fishing for his cigarettes, while shielding the still juddering curtain as best from view as possible, trying hard to appear normal as he smiled at the uniformed gentleman who stepped inside. "Searching for some peace and quiet?" he inquired politely, hoping to hell and back that his voice didn't betray him, that no stains showed and that the scent of sex wasn't that goddamned overpowering as he perceived it to be. He swiftly lit the cigarette anyway.

"Not quite." Clipped consonants and lengthened vowels, and Dan knew straight away from what kind of posh background the man came from. "I was on the lookout for Capitan Molineux. Have you seen him by any chance?"

"No, I'm afraid I haven't." Dan smiled his most polite smile, just hoping the guy would leave. "But perhaps if you ask the embassy staff ..."

"Indeed, I should have thought of that myself."

Dan forced the smile to stay on his face.

"I shall leave you to your peace and quiet, then." With that the gentleman left the room and Dan let out a sigh of relief.

"Holy fuck, that was close." Muttered, he hurried across and checked the door, this time locking it and wondering why the hell they hadn't thought about it before. Booze and horniness didn't go too well together in the brain. "All clear." Calling over, but the curtain didn't stir. "You alright?" Dan was soon back and pulled the curtain out of the way, confronted with a shocked looking Markus, whose trousers were still round his ankles, still standing frozen, and very much not having kept the thought.

"I locked the door this time." Dan grinned, inhaled another lungful before stubbing the cigarette out in a potted plant nearby. "Where were we?"

"I don't think I ..." Markus finally let out a breath he seemed to have been holding all that time. "Sh…ugar! That was close."

"Aye, but not too close." Dan grinned toothily, stepping closer. "I see you haven't kept the thought, best I do something about it."

"Hm?" Markus looked at him, not fully comprehending.

"Fancy a blow job?"

Markus stammered something that wasn't intelligible, but Dan took it as consent, ignoring the few sounds of protest that could have had to do with being in a room in the British embassy and having been almost caught out, while … but all those noises ceased and turned into something very different, when he got down to his knees. Cumbersome, since the knee was stiff and sore, but he nevertheless was soon on the floor in front of Markus. He grinned, hand closing around the not yet interested cock, coaxing by stroking, leaning in to trace his tongue along the side, beneath and around, until the interest became clear and he closed his lips around the head, causing Markus to let out a choked sound.

Using all his extraordinary skill and gusto, Dan soon got Markus to a point where his hands twisted in the thick velvet of the curtain, and his breathing became shallow and noisy. Hips jerking involuntarily, he came suddenly, without much warning and with such suppressed sounds, they almost sounded as if he were in pain. Knees wobbly, Markus had his hands in Dan's hair, touching, while trying to get back down, breathing hard. Dan took his time, cleaning him up properly, then pulling himself up to stand, and tucking Markus him in, even closing the fly.

"Better?"

"Sh...ugar!"

"You are repeating yourself." Dan grinned wickedly, reaching for his cigarettes.

"I ..." Markus stammered, but to his credit, he had himself under control soon after. "Didn't expect that when I came here."

Dan laughed, offering Markus a cigarette, then lit both. He felt mellow now, and in a damn fine mood. Despite all the booze, he'd become surprisingly sober.

"Did I just sound really stupid?"

"No." Dan shook his head, "just funny. Imagine ... expecting a quickie with a stranger when going to an embassy function. That'd be ever so damn hopeful."

Markus joined in the laughter, leaning against the heavy table to smoke his fag. "Do you often do that?"

"What?"

"Picking up strangers."

"Whenever I can. Variety is the spice of life." Dan winked. "Well, or something like that."

Markus grinned and just quietly shook his head while smoking. "You're pretty good at that, you know."

"Giving head?"

Markus nodded, exhaling smoke.

"Aye, one of my favourite things in life."

"Your partner is a lucky man."

"I should think so, but perhaps you should remind him."

"Uhm ... perhaps it's not the right time just now."

Dan grinned, extinguishing his cigarette. "Perhaps you are right. Anyway, what about heading back? You could go first."

"No, I leave that to you. Give me a moment to compose myself. I'm just a hapless civilian." A grin was tugging on the corner or Markus' mouth. A rather wicked one.

"Sure ... and if I believed that I believed anything." With that Dan turned, still grinning sharply, and made his way to the door to unlock it. "Nice meeting you, Markus, let's repeat that."

The grin that answered him was still there when he'd already left the room and closed the door behind him.

May 1993, the Balkans

Dan was chatting to his team mate who was driving the Lannie up a hill. No matter the conversation and the occasional laughter, they were both alert. Of all people in that camp, Dan knew what it meant if he let off the vigilance.

They were heading towards a headland on the top of the next hill, when they turned around the corner and almost drove straight into a vehicle right in the middle of the path.

"What the …?" Dan exclaimed when his mate managed to stop their car just in time. The vehicle that blocked the narrow path was white. Bright white with rather large and gleaming red crosses painted on, and flying two flags. White as well. And red-crossed. Dan started to grin, surely there couldn't be such a coincidence?

"Need help?" He shouted and got out of the Lannie. Despite the obvious scenario, he was still alert and the weapon was always at the ready. Defence, not attack, of course. Even though he didn't think this was anything but what it looked like. The sound of foreign curses came to his ear, from the direction of a man who was deeply buried inside the bonnet of the car. He didn't have to wait for an answer, though, because that moment another man stepped out from between the trees, and that man was all too familiar. Dan grinned toothily at none other than Markus Kaltenbrunn. "Stranded? Need help?"

Markus shrugged his shoulders and pointed at his driver who was straightening up. "According to Dragan there is no chance we can get the car going again."

"Shall we have a look?"

"Wouldn't say no." Markus motioned to his driver to step away and both Dan and his mate had a good look under the bonnet of the Toyota LandCruiser. Murmuring to each other until both nodded.

"Aye, the carburettor's fucked. Damn shame you're not using one of your armoured Lannies." Patting the hardtop of the Toyota, Dan stepped to his own Landrover, equally white but instead of a red cross, emblazoned with KFOR. "We might have been able to fix it. You know, shoelaces, plasters, and glue." He grinned, while his mate laughed and the local driver looked anything but impressed.

"And what now?" Markus sighed, looking from one to the other. "Do I need to radio help?"

"Let's see …" Dan pondered a moment, when his mate had an idea.

"There's a town fairly nearby, isn't it? I saw it on the map. Just a few miles down the hill. You could get it fixed there."

Dragan, the driver, interrupted before anyone could say anything. "That's right. Have family in town, uncle has garage."

"There's always an uncle …" Dan muttered to himself with a grin.

"Perfect," Markus nodded to Dragan, "but how are we going to get there? Unless we could get your uncle up here with all the necessary equipment, which is fairly unlikely."

"Easy, we just tow you down into town." Dan looked at his mate, who agreed.

"We got some leeway, just have to radio base and let them know. I guess helping the Red Cross is part of our remit." He grinned and turned towards the Lannie for the rope.

"Listen to my mate," Dan pointed a thumb at the man, "he's right."

"There's only one small problem," Markus frowned.

"Which is?"

"I have to be back in the office for a quick update today. No way around it."

"Well, what about that, then. We tow you down into the town, you stay with your family, if possible," Dan pointed at Dragan, "and then we take you back? Your vehicle could be brought across tomorrow."

Dragan nodded, indicating with a thumbs up that he was all up for it.

"Sounds like a plan." Markus smiled, "and thank you for your help."

Dan flashed a grin and leaned unexpectedly forward, "oh, the pleasure is all on my side."

He was rewarded with a momentary fluster from Markus, and when Dan turned away his grin had grown beyond all proportions.

They quickly positioned the cars with some careful navigating around the Toyota, and set up the towing rope. With Markus in the back of the Landrover, Dragan sat behind the wheel of the Red Cross vehicle, and they went on their way. The organisation, once they were in town, went fairly smoothly, with Dragan's uncle promising to fix the car before the next day, if he could get all the necessary parts together, but he was confident. A couple of hours later they were back in the Lannie and headed up the hill, when Dan's team mate requested to be dropped off at the camp first and foremost, after a call came in for him via the radio.

Some time later, only Dan and Markus were left in the vehicle, when they drove from camp to Belgrade to get to the Red Cross headquarters.

"Long time no see, aye?" Dan grinned towards the passenger seat, while scratching a troublesome spot beneath his body armour.

"Not really that long, or is it?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"How blue your balls are."

Markus let out a huff of laughter. "Quite."

"Quite what? Quite blue or quite depending?"

"That would be telling."

Now it was Dan's turn to laugh. "And would it be a problem if it were? I guess it all depends if you'd like to invite your rescuer to a strong cup of coffee or not. That is, if you can get out of the office in any amount of reasonable time."

Markus turned his head to look at Dan, seemingly pondering for a moment. "I … think I could arrange that."

"The coffee?"

"Yes." Markus grinned and lit a cigarette, then a second one for Dan, who'd grunted and flashed a grin.

"Let's step on the pedal, then." With that Dan turned onto the faster road and they headed straight into the centre of the town, where he waited outside the Red Cross building, carefully behind cover, for no more than half an hour before Markus reappeared.

"All done?"

"Yes, sorted. Very thankful you were there to help."

"I live to serve, or something like that." Dan laughed, awaiting directions, which Markus delivered once he had buckled up.

They arrived after a few minutes in Markus' private residence, an impressive old building on Uzicka, one of the beautiful tree lined main alleys.

"It's not all mine, and it's not actually mine anyway." Markus commented with a smile.

"Shame, that." Dan glanced to the side after he'd parked the car. "I'd murder a strong coffee right now."

"Thank goodness you'd just murder the coffee and not murder for the coffee."

"You never know …" Laughing, Dan got out of the vehicle and secured it behind the gate. "But I might murder for cleaning up my hands, I still have car oil sticking to it."

"Of course, come on in." Leading towards the ground floor flat, Dan found himself soon in a place with high ceilings and tasteful decorations. If he hadn't already known he'd realise now that Markus was a different league to his usual conquests. But he didn't mind, on the contrary.

"The bathroom is over there," Markus pointed to one of the doors that led out from the hallway, "I'll get the coffee going."

Dan nodded and vanished into the bathroom, taking his time. Long enough for Markus to finish preparing the coffee and to head into the bedroom to change out of the outdoor gear. He was down to his t-shirt when Dan came back out of the adjacent bathroom, drops of water still clinging to his face and the scent of soap in the air. He was still wearing the armoured vest, hanging open over his sweat stained t-shirt. Army issue of whatever Forces he happened to come across.

He took the few steps towards Markus, who was standing close to the bed, lighting a cigarette with a sudden tinge of nervousness about him. Dan smiled, watched the other man inhale the first, deep drag, before taking the fag out of his hand, which earned him a surprised glance, as he pulled in a lungful of smoke himself.

"You smoke too much." Dan's smile grew, while stubbing the cigarette out in the empty ashtray, despite Markus' incredulous glance. He didn't manage to utter a word of protest, because Dan's hands were on his shoulder and hip and Dan's lips on his mouth, with Dan's body demanding closeness.

"And you wear too much." Murmured against Markus' lips, as Dan managed the task of kissing, grinding, crushing his armoured body against the other's, while slipping buttons through holes, running down zippers and pushing garments off the other's body.

They'd forgotten the coffee stewing away in the kitchen, when Dan manoeuvred Markus onto the bed, somehow getting all of their kit off, including the boots. He was grinning when their long limbs entangled and chuckling when he managed to produce some positively impossible sounds from Markus, who was in return smirking when watching Dan lose himself and nearly falling out of the bed, but nothing stopped them. Neither painfully hitting the wall with an arm, nor the frantic search for lube and the almost desperate curses when the condoms couldn't be found. Resulting in laughter and grinning, while thoroughly enjoying the other. Light hearted, fun, and entirely without any deeper agendas. Something Dan relished and Markus seemed to revel in, until the heat got too much and even the laughing stopped, when a sheen of sweat covered their bodies and finally, the release came and left them panting, finding themselves grinning at the other when Markus commented dryly that his vehicle should break down more often.

An hour later, Dan was finally sipping his coffee, a fresh one, sitting in borrowed shorts in the kitchen. Soft cotton, almost see-through in places, and washed a hundred times, they were infinitely comfortable, and Dan had one leg hooked beneath the top bar of the stool, elbow on the breakfast bar, watching the other man's back. Wondering if he noticed some tension, or not. Markus was busying himself at the stove, something Dan regarded with awe.

"How many languages do you speak?" Markus asked, craning his head back.

"Hmmmm …," Dan pondered while watching the smoke from his cigarette curl towards the ceiling, "not sure. I keep losing track whenever I learn a new one. Several Arabic dialects, just getting into Yugo speak, then the European ones, getting by in French, German, and whatever else might come in handy. Russian, of course, I'm fluid in that one." He shrugged, "to be honest, I seem to pick them up as I go along. Guess my one big talent - apart from killing and surviving - is languages."

"You lucky ba… so-and-so."

Dan grinned at Markus' interminable politeness, wondering if he ever allowed himself to let go, but then he knew, didn't he? He'd just witnessed it.

"The surviving or the languages?" Dan laughed.

"Both, I guess."

"Aye, but then you would manage to survive and to eat well. I'd say you definitely have a shot up on me." Grinning, Dan pulled in a last drag of his cigarette, before he extinguished it in the ashtray and stood up, stretching, watched from the corner of Markus' eyes, who was beating an egg.

"Fucking hell, I'm stiff." Dan groaned, stretching his whole body, the soft cotton shorts almost sliding over his hips, but he managed to hoist them up mid-way, tightening the string. He padded over to where the bloodied meat was tantalisingly displayed on the butcher's block. "You know what that reminds me of?" Poking a finger into the soft texture.

Markus raised a brow. "I really don't think I want to know." Pouring the fluffy eggs into a mixing bowl.

"Not what you might think." Dan laughed, waggling his brows, "even though I have to admit I wouldn't have a clue what you think. Can't claim I know you all too well." Flashing his teeth in a broad grin, "apart from …" again those brows went up and down, "you know what."

Markus said nothing, busying himself with the mixing of the ingredients, but Dan detected a hidden grin.

"Anyway, do you know what it reminds me of?"

"No." The no-nonsense reply came from a whisking man.

"Baby rabbits."

"Baby what?" Markus turned, with that incredulous look on his face that had made Dan grin and get entirely wicked ideas, earlier.

"Rabbits." Dan nodded, dead serious, while opening the fridge door to help himself to another beer, as if he were at an old friend of the house. "Babies, to be precise."

"Why?" The whisking had ended, but the glance kept coming, shot once more from the corner of Markus' eyes.

"They're fierce, you know?" Dan kept his voice deliberately serious. "Incredibly fierce. You really don't want to mess with a bunny rabbit and especially not the baby ones. But if you do manage to kill one, hell, the reward is manifold. Big slabs of meat just like this one."

Markus was cleaning his hands under the tab and towelling them dry as he stared straight at Dan. An expression in his eyes that stated clearly he was considering the other man to be absolutely bonkers. "Baby rabbits. Fierce baby rabbits. You sure you didn't get too much sun?"

"Absolutely!" Dan protested. "Oh, it's just a harmless little bunny, isn't it? Well, it's always the same. I always tell them …"

The corners of Markus' lips were starting to twitch, and he burst into a full blown laughter when Dan continued, "And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shalt be the number …"

He didn't manage to recite further, when the towel came down hard onto his chest, then his hip. "Hey!" protesting, "what's going on here? You're not supposed to use any force, you're the good guys, remember?" He laughed, trying to snatch the towel away, but he was just that bit too slow and Markus managed to get a good shot onto Dan's arse. "Ow!" Laughing, Dan protested loudly, "have you forgotten? Red fucking Cross! Not the guerrilla!" He managed to get the towel at the next attempt, probably because his adversary was laughing too hard, and Dan raised it threateningly, but it never came down onto the other man.

"Guess I can't spoil your outfit, eh?" Grinning, while Markus nodded, still chuckling.

"Guess you can't, but you almost got me there, you son of a …"

Dan jumped right in, ever helpful, "so-and-so?"

"That as well."

Dan laughed and shook his head, when Markus mock-glared at him.

"You better sit down and get out of my way or I can't guarantee how edible the food will be."

Dan saluted crisply, slamming his bare heels together as he shouted sharply, "Sir! Yes, Sir!" Before once more sitting down at the breakfast bar and lighting another fag.

Markus was shaking his head again, but Dan would bet that if he had seen tension before, it was gone.

"Any way I can entertain you without spoiling the meal?"

"Trust me, you are entertaining enough as it is."

"Do I take this as a compliment or ...?"

Markus laughed. "You take it as whatever you'd like to take it."

"Good. And thanks for the compliment." Sitting and smoking, while watching Markus whip up a miracle of an exquisite meal, they chatted about the job, with Dan mostly listening, fascinated by 'the other side'. The one that constructed, negotiated, and saved.

Dan tucked into the meal with gusto, enjoying the food, but even more enjoying the stories. And over two hours later they finally got up, and Dan got dressed again, ready to head off.

The good-bye was friendly and warm, and Dan whistled all the way on his journey back to camp. Mates were a good thing, and friends even better.

May 1993, United States of America

"I know you're an opportunist, but that's not me." Leaning against the doorframe, Matt watched the other man, who was silent, as ever. At least with him. Hooch was chewing gum, shades tucked onto his forehead and one strap of the backpack over his shoulder. Dead cool, as always. Matt didn't expect him to say a word.

"I'm not a romantic, Hooch." Matt shrugged, half-expected a smirk from the other man, never received it. "Been there, done that, didn't work out." Paused. "I'm sorry, man, but this here isn't what I want either." Matt glanced down, shook his head. "I don't want to be one of many stations you pass through." Paused, "I want to be the central station." He fell silent.

Hooch opened his mouth and drawled. "I understand."

Matt nodded. Nothing left to say.

Flicking his shades back on, Hooch tapped a couple of fingers against his temple in a mock salute, turned and opened the door. No hesitation when he stepped through and left, closing the door behind him.

Matt stood. Stared at the door. Less than sixty seconds and it was all over. What had he expected? Fuck.

He stood for several more minutes, heard nothing, didn't expected a sound, finally turned and walked into the kitchen to grab an ice cold Bud. He threw himself onto the couch but forgot the TV, even the beer. Just stared at the ceiling for hours. Wasn't thinking about anything, just floating in grey space.

What now? Whatever. Work. Marines. Military. Closet and all that shit. Don't ask don't tell. The usual.

Matt's beer had turned lukewarm in his hand when he was suddenly jerked out of his musings by the door bell.

"Fuck," he frowned, got up despite himself. Hoping it wasn't anyone from the nearby base. "Leave me the fuck alone, dickheads." Leaving the unopened beer on the table in the miniature hallway, he pushed the buzzer and counted the customary minutes it took to make it up the stairs, unless whoever it was had taken the elevator. Opening the door, he nearly did a double take into the mirror behind him.

Hooch.

Hooch, pushing his shades back up onto his head, and re-shouldering the bergan.

Hooch, standing in the doorway. "Been thinking." Two words, more than usual. "Been around a bit." Six, speech worthy of a national holiday. "Looking for a station now." Eleven, whole fucking fireworks. "Central station." Thirteen, and the heavens came down for Matt.

"You still offering?" Sixteen, and the world stopped spinning.

Matt stood thinking for a while, not a muscle in his face twitched. Then stepped aside, gestured the other man to follow him. Closed the door.

"One condition."

Hooch's brows rose for a split second.

Matt broke into a grin at last, which threatened to split his face. "Promise not to talk too much."

May 1993, the Balkans

"Krasnorada!" The voice shouted across the cookhouse at lunchtime. Against the noise of dozens of men wolfing down their food. "Phone for Krasnorada!"

Vadim looked up, set the half-eaten yoghurt down, swallowing the last spoonful, and got up and out of the benches and tables, untangling himself, while Dan watched him leave with a shrug, before turning his attention back to a team mate. Heading towards the phone, Vadim moved fast, but not running. Could always be important. Only what. What. Something could be wrong with the children. He got called very rarely.

"Yes?"

"Vadim?" The line was fairly clear, and the voice unmistakable. "Hey, buddy, how are you?"

Hooch. The voice and drawl went right under his scalp, felt like the caress of fingernails. "In one piece. I'm good. Shit war, but I'm good. How are you?" Apart from sexy and ... calling me, unexpectedly.

"I'm alright. Been to a couple of shitholes, got myself worked over in between, went to the wedding, travelled the world and all that."

"The usual, then." Vadim gave an amused snort. "Good to hear you got a chance to wear the killer suit."

Hooch chuckled, "listen, man, I tried to contact you a few months ago. Didn't have the right numbers. Haven't forgotten about you."

"I guess you can talk? I mean ..." Vadim looked around, but the rest of the wolfpack was still feeding. "Freely?"

"Yeah. I'm at Matt's, but he's on duty." The sound of shuffling and then the snick of a lighter and Hooch exhaling. "He gave me your number."

"Good. I'm near the Mess." Matt had given him the number. Which surely had to do with Matt and Dan staying in touch. And Hooch and Matt staying 'in touch' so to speak. Lucky jarhead. "Haven't forgotten about you, either." Vadim kept an eye on his surroundings, but it all seemed safe. Ridicule was the only danger, these days.

"You up for a repeat some time?" Hooch exhaled audibly.

"Yes." Fuck, no. Yes. Feeding the danger? What the fuck was he thinking? And what about Dan? And that really bad evening in Rome? But Hooch, naked. Hooch, in pain. Hooch, needing the man he'd been. Could always be again, even if it was just make-believe.

"I'm in the States until September."

"Should I ... come over, or are you?"

"You ever been here?"

"No. Cold War. I'm ex-Soviet. Until recently, I didn't even know if your side would let me in at all, but seems I got cleared when I saved some Yankee boys."

"Yeah, I remember." A pause, "you free in July? I let you pick the state."

"No idea ... what I know of the country is from movies." Raking his brain. He'd learned quite a bit about the US of A, but that was a long time ago. Some cultural studies along with the language, and proof how corrupt and inferior they were, culturally, historically, and in everything else. Uber-Capitalist society. The Place That Did Everything Wrong and Posed A Threat to Everything Right. USA. "Not too hot, not too cold?"

"Colorado. Rocky Mountains." Hooch's grin was audible. "The whole Wild West package. I'll organise it when you give me the dates." Exhaling and pausing, "a cabin's a good choice. Secluded."

"Okay. July is fine. We should be due R&R by then. Unless things go to hell, as it may still happen." We. Dan. "Let's say third week of July, to be on the safe side. Have to talk to Dan about it." Who'll be delighted. Fuck. "Maybe shack him up with Matt in the meantime, so he's not bored."

A pause, nothing for a while until Hooch asked, "you feel guilty?"

Vadim paused. Did he? Yes. Rome. The very fact that Hooch wasn't like Jean or any of the other guys made this a problem. Fuck. If Dan flipped, what then. So, he tried to pacify him. The ramifications of this - this reflex - were enormous. "Just a chance for them to be in touch, too." Liar.

"They are. Dan told Matt to tell me to call you."

Check. Being outwitted and moved into a corner by an American. If Dan had done that, he had to know they'd meet up. Or had he not thought that far. "We went through a rough spot, recently. I'm just ... trying to play things safe."

"Because of me?"

Check and mate. Vadim closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to think his way out. No chance. He opened his eyes, ever watchful. "No, because of me. You have the smallest part in it." Which was true. It was his feelings that were all messed up, his broken mind, his need for a 'carer', a 'minder'.

"Okay." The sound of another exhale, then a shuffle when Hooch stubbed out his cigarette. "I'm with Matt." After a lengthy pause.

The last sentence could mean anything. With Matt. "I'll call you there, soon, okay? I want to see you, Hooch." I do. I fucking do.

"Yeah, can't wait. I make sure we'll have toys. Need you to remind me."

"Yes. I will remind you." Vadim smiled, the unease now getting replaced by some arousal, as the images flooded his mind again. Hooch in pain. Hooch coming apart. Hooch absolutely craving what he gave him, his, mind and body, dignity, the killer self, the predatorial soul.

"Till later." Hooch signed off, the receiver was put down and the line went dead.

"Later", Vadim murmured, and hung up. He needed a few moments to clear his thoughts, then went back to his place in the mess and put away the tray. Everyone else was already gone. Why did Dan get Hooch to call him? That was something he had to work out.

He headed towards the barracks and entered their room, when Dan looked up from flicking through a magazine, smiling. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, I got a phone call from the States."

"Hooch, aye?" Still smiling, while putting the magazine down and fishing for a fag. Movement aborted, when Dan remembered how much Vadim disliked him smoking in the room. "Is he okay?"

"Sounds it, he's with Matt." Vadim sat down, near Dan.

"Is he?" Dan broke into a bright grin. "Good choice. Looked like make or break for a while, there."

"He wants to meet. Over in the States."

"Hooch?"

"Yes." Vadim inhaled. "I'm torn. I don't want that to cause any trouble. I don't want ... a repeat of what happened ... in Rome. Okay?"

Dan tilted his head, the grin turning into a smile, and he did his best to keep any darkness away. "It won't. I just let you go, okay?" Adding, after a split second. "When?"

"End of July. Colorado, most likely." Vadim looked at Dan, met his gaze, felt uneasy about it all, but at the same time, he wanted to go. Of course Dan was more important. But he wanted Hooch, too. Fuck.

"Alright, that's some time yet." Dan nodded. "For how long?"

"A week?" Vadim felt how tight his throat was. "You could meet Matt, face to face. And ... if you say don't, I won't. I ... it's not, not as serious. Doesn't touch what we have."

Dan let out a huff of laughter that distinctly lacked the full spectrum of his usual humour. "Don't defend yourself before you're attacked." Poking a finger gently into Vadim's chest. "Makes you sound guilty when you might not be." He rolled his shoulders, hand going to the cigarettes again, but once more they stalled. "And don't try to parcel me off to Matt again." He smiled, keeping the darker flavour at bay. "I'm fine staying here, getting some more money in and having a drink with Dima and Markus, or Maurice. By the way, you need more than a week, don't forget the flights."

"Ten days, then." Vadim wasn't quite sure how to take it, the lack of trouble. "That's a day for any trouble at any of the airports. Being a Commie bastard and all that."

"You're not. You're British now." Dan got up, rolling his shoulders again. "I'm off to the gym. I'll see you later, aye?" He forgot the usual control when he turned and walked towards his gym bag, and the limp was more pronounced than ever, before he remembered and forced his body to comply.

"Okay." Vadim looked at the leg, didn't like at all what that looked like. "But go easy on the legs ..."

"Yeah, yeah, I will." Dan let out another huff, bag over his shoulder. He usually changed in the room, but somehow he had to get out. "You sound like Dima, but you're less convincing." Opening the door he stepped out. "See you later." And he was gone.

True. He did sound like Dima. Minus the kicks and curses. Vadim grinned, shaking his head, then he went back to the phones, after he'd found the number, and called Hooch back.

The voice that answered the phone was out of breath. "Yeah?"

"Were you running?" Vadim grinned.

"No. Jerking off."

"Because of me?"

"Yeah. Remembered the pain, the lust."

Vadim was suddenly breathless, remembering Hooch's taste, the feeling of his cock, his ass, the abs, the chest. Everything about him was fucking sexy.

Another very audible breath through the phone, and rustling against the receiver. Hooch was obviously shifting position. "Not finished ..."

"Just go on. I could listen."

"No. You tell me. I have some toys here."

Vadim felt heat rise in his cheeks. Public phone. And Hooch didn't understand Russian. And in this place, there were several who understood Russian. He lowered his voice some more, hungrily listening to Hooch's every breath. "Nipple clamps?"

"Yeah." Where the hell Hooch kept them didn't matter right now, not even the question if Matt knew about all of these 'toys'.

"Put them on. I'd twist them, and bite the flesh around them, then twisting more." Vadim bared his teeth when the sharp intake of breath from the other end indicated Hooch had done exactly that. Of course, Vadim could do nothing with his erection, apart from hiding it in the semi-dark corner.

"Done." Hooch's voice had changed. Huskier. "I'm kneeling on the floor. Fucking hard."

So am I. Fuck. Vadim grinned, felt reckless, horny, bad combination, especially with the control needed. "Nice big dildo. You have that?"

"Yeah, got it. Like a fucking fist." Hooch voice betrayed how he could hardly control a moan.

"Lube it. I'd fuck you right there, but I'm here. I'd bitchslap you and then fuck you. Put it in. Not slow. You need to feel it. Feel it good. Ram it in like it was some bastard fucking you."

"Shit, yeah." Forced out, the sound of the phone being put down on the floor, then rustling and movement. "Got it. Am on all fours." Breathlessness up a notch, Hooch's voice clearly audible, his head had to be over the phone as he braced himself. The next sound was a suppressed cry that changed into a pained groan, then harsh breathing, before another near-scream was heard, which made every muscle in Vadim's body twitch and tighten. This man was most obviously ramming the dildo as recklessly into his arse as if Vadim manoeuvred it. Or worse. "Fuck!" Hooch cried out between clenched teeth.

The image. He could see Hooch like that, could see him sweat and coil, in pain, with that vicious arousal. "Good. Don't move it. It's me who gives that order, suka." Bitch. He knew that Hooch would remember that word. It had slipped during one of their games. "Beg me. Make it convincing, or I'm hanging up on you."

Hooch groaned, the proof that he did exactly as Vadim told him, had stopped all movement, and it was killing him, no doubt. "I ... can't!" Begging, the greatest struggle of all. The man still proud, no matter his needs.

"What can you do? Bitch. What can you trade?"

"My throat." Pressed out, Hooch was shuddering with need, and yet even through the phone it was evident he was still obeying. "Please ..." Begging, and contradicting himself.

I'd kill to be there, Vadim thought, his free hand a fist, whole arm tense, legs locked. He wanted to be there, see and hear and smell this. "Got another dildo? Suck on it."

"Yeah ... got to ... got to move." A deep groan followed, indicating Hooch had to pull the dildo out of his arse, and the nipple clamps, undoubtedly with weights, were pulling cruelly on his sensitive flesh, when he moved around. The sound of a drawer shut, loudly, and then rustling when he came back to the phone on the floor. "Both?"

"Put the other one back. Yes, both." Vadim swallowed, wanting so much to get lost in the imagined thing, and that was absolutely impossible. He checked around again. Nobody. Still. Impossible to jerk off here.

No answer, except for another deep groan, soon muffled, more and more, until the sounds became unidentifiable, except for some gagging noise and a desperate whimper. Then stilled, Hooch was clearly waiting for orders, nothing except the loud breathing. Unable to speak, the first dildo forced as deeply into his ass as he could and the second down his throat, with every breath fighting the gagging reflex.

Vadim gave a groan himself, need, plain and simple, and not so simple, right now. "Now fuck yourself. You earned it, suka."

And Hooch did, there was no doubt. Neither a doubt that he didn't pull the dildo out of his throat, was so obviously fucking himself on both ends. Violently thrusting the large dildo deep into his body, while never ceasing to suck and swallow and push on the other. Sounds increasing, until the desperate noisy breaths, the whimpers and cries finally culminated in an unbridled scream that not even the dildo could hold back, when it slipped out from between his lips and he came hard, the dildo embedded so deeply inside his body, the pain was robbing his senses, as the lust crashed and suffocated him.

Vadim was desperately aroused, he could decipher the sounds, knew Hooch enough sexually to read them. "Right. Easy ... easy now. Take the one from your mouth. Put it ... down." Now, to take him right now. Vadim couldn't even swallow, his throat was parched.

Hooch groaned, breath coming in short gasps, the sounds that were coming from him still desperate, but slightly soothed. "Thank you ..." Murmured, and it was obvious he hadn't taken off nor out anything else yet. Obeying every word.

"Now the other. Easy." Feeling the same tenderness that came 'after', and, at the same time, the cruel need himself. It didn't make much sense. Cross-purposes. Cruelty, need, tenderness, protection. Somehow all tangled.

Letting out a hissing breath, Hooch forced himself to calm while pulling out, slowly. "What would you do with my nipples?" Murmured, still breathless, but rapidly coming down. The pain biting, increasing, getting worse, and yet ... he needed ....

"I'd suck and bite them, roll them between my teeth, now that they are nice and raw." Vadim smiled. "Pull them with my teeth, as far as they will go."

"Let me wear the nipple clamps for you ... longer?"

"Yeah. Wear them for me. Take them off before Matt comes home." That could be a few hours.

"Yeah, I will." And he would, no matter how long it took and no matter how great the pain. Nor the lust. "What do you want me to do with him ..."

Vadim inhaled, sharply. Now. That. Fuck. Like Hooch was playing his lust, now, trying to make it as tough for him as possible, knowing exactly that Vadim was in a public place, with a tent in his camos. Matt. What would ... Hooch and Matt. He could decide how they'd have sex next. Like he was in the room when it happened. He'd be in Hooch's head, for sure. "Get him at the door. Take him nice and rough, just a touch of pain ... fuck him right there in the corridor, and when he's close, still. Make him beg to get finished off, however long it takes." Vadim grinned. "I'm sure he'd like to beg."

A husky laugh was Vadim's reward. Breathless, but for entirely different reasons. "He doesn't beg." The sound of the phone being picked up. "Yet."

"I'm sure you could teach him to. Evil scary Delta. And he's begged you before, when we interrupted you." Vadim grinned.

"Not sure I want to ..." Another husky chuckle. "Not the way I do." Shuffling, then once more the sound of a cigarette being lit, and a suppressed groan when Hooch moved. No doubt the nipple clamps were biting torturously. "You want me to suck him while using the dildo on him?"

"Yeah. I'd like that." Vadim gave a suppressed sound. "Would love to watch you. Be ... there."

"I'll tell you later. Call me when you can and I'll tell you ..." The sound of smoking, and another shuffle, as Hooch moved to lie down. "Later, Vadim."

"Just ..." Dazed brain remembering why he'd called. "End of July, ten days. I'll book flights, okay?"

"Okay. I'll book the cabin. Later." And Hooch put the phone down.

"Later." Vadim hung up, then decided he should at least try and cover the evidence. He pulled his shirt off, like the British soldiers did at any opportunity, all the sun had to do was peek through the clouds and the British boys lost their shirts. He held the garment, he hoped, perfectly naturally just so that it covered him as much as possible, then he headed to the barracks, trying to avoid contact, being seen, or remaining out in the open for too long.

"Hey!" Dan's voice was suddenly heard in Vadim's back, just as he was about to enter the accommodation block. "Didn't know you were a sun worshipper?" Grinning, Dan stepped out of the gym, drenched in sweat and in sports kit, on his way back to the room.

Vadim slowed, grinned. "Done already?"

"Forgot my soap bag." And my knee hurts like fuck, "figured I'd do a light session today. Or am I not man enough for you yet?" Smirking, Dan raised his arm and flexed the muscles.

"You're exactly as much man as I need", Vadim murmured, glad when they'd reached the door, and opening it. "Love you sweaty."

"Do you?" Dan stepped through the door, bending down, just a couple of steps in, to retrieve his soap bag.

Vadim closed the door, then covered the distance, pulling Dan up with one hand, pressing against him, while pushing the shorts down. "Yes. I need you, Dan. In the 'want' sense." Hand moving down his front, sweaty, scarred, down to his cock.

"What the hell ..." But Dan didn't protest. Surprised, yes, no idea where all this that was coming from, but he took the lust as an unexpected bonus. About to turn round to face Vadim, he stalled the last moment, when Vadim's hand closed around his cock, from zero to one-hundred, stroking, and the way Vadim was going, it wouldn't take more than a a couple of seconds, before his cock responded. "How?"

"Get on the bed." Vadim was pressing in, trying to get Dan towards the bed.

Dan's brows rose to his hairline, before a slow grin crept onto his face. He nodded and let himself get pushed towards the bed. It hit the back of his calves after a few steps, and he fell backwards, onto the mattress. Sitting, knees open, looking up. "Whatever you've had, I want some of it."

No you don't, Vadim thought, following closely, hands reaching for the lube that was always close to the bed, getting some of the stuff on his hand that went right to Dan's cock again, pumping him now, again, trying to get him fully hard. "Help me get the trousers down."

Dan leaned forward, hands on Vadim's fly, swiftly working to get it open and down, face to face with an impressive hard-on, weeping and needy, like a man who'd been aroused for too long. "Holy fuck." Murmured, Dan felt saliva gathering in his mouth, wanting to taste that cock, and his own reacted by jumping and hardening fully.

"Lie back." Vadim pushed his trousers down, kicked off the trainers. Dan's t-shirt was out of the way, had ridden up, and Vadim managed to pull Dan's sports shorts down completely, fully baring the cock. Dan scooted up, until he lay on the bed, legs partially dangling over the edge. Vadim sat down, straddling Dan as he took more lube, which he just pushed into his own ass with two strongly greased fingers. Watched intensely by Dan, whose lips had parted, staring at the sight.

Vadim didn't care if anybody could come in, the door wasn't locked, then again, this wasn't Kuwait. Taking Dan's cock again and positioning it at his ass, then moving down, back, having to work a bit in this awkward position, but he fucking needed it right now - a cock up his ass, release, Dan - all three.

Dan gasped out, reaching up to touch Vadim, aborted the movement, and fell back down onto the bed, groaning, when Vadim pushed down, recklessly. The heat and tightness that engulfed his cock was almost unbearable - and unexpected.

Vadim groaned, forced himself to take it all, shaking when it was too fucking right, and he clenched his teeth as he moved up again, and bore down, again groaning. He could decide on the speed, depth, force, and he wanted as much of it as he could have. "I ... feel ... feel you", he pressed out. "Good. So good."

"Aye ... fucking good." Dan moaned out, dark eyes almost black, as his hands scrabbled to touch Vadim. Taken aback, and taken in, and fuck, it really was that good. "Only you feel so damn fucking good!" he gasped when Vadim moved slightly differently, and his hands clenched into fists.

Vadim concentrated on the sensation, the reckless need, grinding, thrusting against Dan, fingers on his chest, under the t-shirt. He changed the angle, bent down to kiss Dan, hungry, open mouth, tongue, groaning far too loudly, but his groans were swallowed in Dan's mouth and own greed.

Riding the lust in whatever form Vadim dictated, Dan was soon senseless, arching up and taking, wanting, spiralling closer and faster, until he soon was close, so close.

Vadim straightened, needed just a little more, and took hold of his cock, greased fingers tightening around it, pumping himself, while moving on Dan, then using more force, harsh and demanding, fast, like he did when he was alone, when he had to get off fast. It was enough to get Dan over the edge, and when he came, he arched up high, while Vadim tightened up more, lips open, body sweaty and flushed, as he came, across his chest, Dan's chest and t-shirt, at the same time grinding into Dan's groin, who was shuddering with the aftershocks, clinging to Vadim's thighs.

"Shit!" Breathed out, Dan fell back onto the bed, panting. "I don't know what the hell happened while I was in the gym, but I sure as fuck don't complain." He was grinning from ear to ear, tanned face flushed.

Vadim slowly moved away to lay down, grabbing his own t-shirt to wipe the mess a way. "Just ... just needed you."

Dan pulled the soiled and sweaty t-shirt over his head, flinging it across the room, before he rolled to the side, looking at Vadim. Propped up on his elbow, he smiled and reached out to stroke Vadim's face. "Always need you, aye?" Softly.

"Yes. Always." Vadim leaned in for another kiss, feeling the post-orgasm heaviness tug on his eyelids. "Don't forget that."

"I won't. As long as you don't either." Pulling Vadim close, sweat and all, Dan didn't care, just wanted to hold him. Right now, the world was good, and it all made sense. Right now, nothing could touch them.

The following work of fiction contains graphic homosexual interaction, violence and non-consensual sex. With this work of fiction the authors do not condone in any way any form of intolerance and injustice, e.g. racism, sexual harassment, incitement of hatred, religious hatred nor persecution, xenophobia and misogyny. Neither do the authors through this work of fiction promote violence nor make light of such grave matters as genocide, any taking of human life, murder, execution, rape, torture, persecution of sexual orientation.

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All characters are fictional. Any similarities with living or deceased people are coincidental. In case of real life events, creative license has been applied. Special Forces is intellectual property of Marquesate and Vashtan. Copyright © 2006-2009. All rights reserved.