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July
1983, Kabul
Market.
That fucking M again. Kabul in summer, heat and dust,
an inferno of flies hanging like large teetering grapes
on cut-open carcasses in the meat corner; a hellhole
of voices, shrill and fast, movements of faded colours
and dirt. Stink of sweat, animals, and half-rotten produce,
the last island of activity and life in a dilapidated
city enveloped in clouds of red dust. Stalls with nuts,
spices, promising atonal symphonies of smell; beads,
carved stones, lapis lazuli and turned wooden bowls.
Pottery and tin vessels, fabrics, wool, spun and raw,
dyes and flashes of brighter colours. Above all of this,
the incessant noise and never-ending movements. Men,
women in burkhas, and even more men. Rags around their
heads, garments flowing, some with their faces almost
fully covered, others with hats on their heads and long
beards beneath, but all swathed from head to toe and
their dusty feet in sandals. One as indistinguishable
as the other to an uncaring eye.
All
the same, except for one: faceless, nameless, but taller
than anyone else. Dan was moving through the market.
Incessantly. One with the sound and the smell, the ebb
and tide of the human ocean. Looking. Waiting. Searching.
Vadim
had hitched a ride with a patrol, just wearing standard
issue, plus the ranks, which might lead to a problem
here. He jumped out of the car, waved, and regarded
the onslaught that was the market. He should be reasonably
safe, nothing he couldn't handle, but he was weary.
Paranoia was an art form in this place, and he squeezed
through the hustle and mass of bodies, looked at some
wares … blue, bubbly glass that made him think
of the sky, lapis necklaces, and massive silver rings
with semiprecious stones that had gone out of fashion
about five hundred years ago.
He
stopped at a place that served tea, nothing more than
a dusty carpet under an improvised roof, and looked
at the passers-by. They weren't an unattractive people,
the Afghans. He started to be able to tell them apart.
Tadjiks, of course, he spoke their language after his
last posting, and recognized their features. Hazara,
who looked like Mongols. The tall, bony, haughty-looking
Pashtuns, who thought they were the true Afghans and
everybody else was just a vaguely annoying guest who
had overstayed their welcome.
Vadim
stood, and sipped, and watched.
Dan
was moving, forever forward from one place to the next,
along the stalls, into the centre of the market then
weaving back out again. He had managed to leave a note
with the tea house owner, but it had been cryptic, and
already over a month ago. A month in which a lot of
shit had happened. So much had gone wrong, he didn't
even want to think about it anymore. Down and out, he
felt like the most hapless, clueless green-faced Nig
the army had ever seen. He was still wavering between
being so fucked off he was ready to slaughter half a
dozen Afghans with his bare hands, and pissing himself
with laughter at his misfortune.
Turning
another corner, so damned hungry by now he was pondering
stealing food in daylight, when he finally spotted his
prey. No, his hope. What? Bastard. Prey. Whatever. The
man he hadn't seen for over two months and who he needed
to see more than anyone or anything else.
Walking
casually closer, he was the tallest man in a throng
of others. Same clothes, long flowing rags with just
about nothing underneath, tattered sandals and rags
wound around his head. Leaving nothing free but a small
section of deeply tanned skin around his eyes and the
eyes themselves. Dark. Almost black. Just one of the
natives.
Vadim
handed the tea glass back, pondered getting another
one, but he didn't want to stay in one place for too
long. The Pashtuns could always decide it was worth
the risk to earn the bounty on another Russian's head.
He
moved again, paused to get some hot, spicy meat things
wrapped in a naan, and ate the steaming meat while he
walked, on all accounts not intimidated by being outnumbered
about ten thousand to one. Paused again to look at some
stone lion figurettes that seemed to be Chinese, weighed
them. The merchant told him it was 'smoked jade'. Whatever
that was. It wasn't plastic.
Vadim
pondered, then put them down. Nowhere to put them, nothing
he could do with them, cheap or not, bargain, even …
the merchant kept shouting lower prices and then annoyed
Vadim. When he abruptly turned, he saw somebody - a
pair of eyes, shoulders … tall, broad, massively
broad for a country that seemed to know no muscles,
only sinews.
Dan
stood still for a heartbeat, in less than safe distance,
aware there were others who might not like to see his
face. Nor body. Nor still un-cut-out eyes, and least
of all the fact he was still breathing. Instinctively
about to dodge away when spotted, his eyes got drawn
to the empty naan bread, some of the grease from the
meat still clinging to it. Fuck. He hadn't had a decent
bite for days. Not counting the half-rotten scraps he
had found the night before. Had to keep a low profile
for at least another week. So low in fact, he was close
to licking the sand off the goddamned streets. But that
bread. Food. Fuck, so hungry, gnawing pain in his empty
stomach was slicing like a knife, twisting a few times
for good measure.
He
forced himself to step aside, blended into the next
dim opening between two stalls, hoping the Russkie wasn't
going to chuck the bread away before he could get his
attention. Dan had a damn good reason to want to remain
anonymous.
Vadim's
nostrils flared. Possible. Impossible. The other ducked
into an alley, and he turned fully around to follow,
plucking some meat from his teeth with a fingernail,
squeezed himself through a squabbling bunch of women,
and came face to turban with the other. Stared. "You."
He murmured, the food forgotten. Thirst, and hunger
of a different kind. "Shadowing me?"
"You
want that bread?" No reply, just greed, pointing
at the emptied naan in the other's hand.
"Uhm."
Vadim glanced at the bread, surprised. "Do you
want it?" Offering it, still puzzled. "The
meat's mostly gone, though."
"Holy
fuck, yes!" Dan tore the naan from the Russkie's
hand, half crouched, ducked his head and turned away,
unwrapped the rag from the lower part of his face, and
stuffed the bread in less than three bites into his
mouth. Not turning back to face the other before replacing
the rag, his face was completely covered again, except
for the eyes. Chewing, greedy and starved, those dark
eyes intensely focussed on Vadim.
Vadim
watched, exasperated, at the display of hunger. He knew
that from survival exercises, which were a bitch, especially
in winter. "Stay here", he murmured, slightly
taken aback at the need. Dan nodded, still chewing while
looking around himself, ensuring that no one was close.
Vadim turned back into the market, got another of those
naans, with meat, and dried fruit and nuts, by the bag.
Stuffed the latter into his pockets and returned, to
Dan, looking like a native whose only visible feature
were dark eyes, growing wide at the sight of hot food.
"Fallen
on hard time, eh?"
"You
have no idea." Dan nodded, glancing around. No
matter how hungry he was, he couldn't take any risks.
"Can't eat it here. There's a darker alley a bit
further on." Eyes on the naan, but hell, better
wait and live than eat now and end up in the gutter.
"I have nowhere else to go."
Vadim
raised an eyebrow, quizzically, but nodded and indicated
for Dan to lead. Out of the bustle and hustle and the
donkeys. It was relatively calm there, and much easier
to keep an eye on. Safe enough for Dan to unravel his
rag, enough to free his mouth. Vadim offered the naan
to him, and leaned against the wall. "Eat. What
happened? Your rebel band got killed? Blood feud? What
happened?"
Snatching
the naan from Vadim's hand, Dan took a large bite before
he said a word. Chewing and talking with a full mouth,
he couldn't help it. "You could say that."
Forcing himself to chew some more before swallowing,
knew if he were too greedy he'd just get sick. "The
last bit. Got myself caught in the middle of some shit
even I don't understand." He shrugged again, flashed
a reckless grin. "Lost everything." Another
bite, moved the hot meat around in his mouth. "No
weapons, no money, no place to stay. Not eaten for days
and my contacts won't turn up before at least another
week." Chewing, fuck, this was good.
"You're
looking at a man, piss-poorer than even your raw conscripts."
Despite it all, Dan grinned, almost laughed, even. Starving,
yes, but this shit was too fucked up to get him down,
had kept his gallow's humour. "Haven't just got
Russkies out for my hide, got some zealous goat-fuckers
as well."
Vadim
couldn't help but chuckle. The despair was comical,
and Dan's way to deal with it felt almost Russian in
its odd humour.
Dan
was waving the naan about with a smirk. "Get your
gloating in now, Russkie, it'll have to do for a while."
"Seven
days?" Out of luck, money, even food. Vadim would
love to take Dan with him and keep him for the time,
getting sex and company and more, keeping him away from
those bastards … just a week. He sighed. "I
think you need bath and new clothes. You smell pretty
bad."
"Aye,
I know." One more bite left and the naan was gone.
Hunger sated for now. Dan hadn't felt so good for a
while. "I'm a flea-fest and nit-haven, but fuck
all I can do." He replaced the rag as soon as he
had finished eating, even though nobody was near.
"Bloody
lucky to be alive, but my contacts won't like it when
I have to tell them I got no equipment left." Still,
he grinned, and shrugged. British humour at its best.
"I wonder if living off rubbish in streets and
rat-infested Afghan alleys gets me promoted."
Vadim
laughed. "You could tell them you did that. Come."
He had an idea, and the other would follow, but Dan
protested. "I'd like to point out that A - I wouldn't
be grinning if I found you in my position," no,
he'd be pissing himself with laughter instead, "and
B - where the fuck are you taking me?"
"Yeah,
right", murmured Vadim. "Don't make such a
ruckus." He headed towards one of the hamams, a
small place, he sometimes visited here, rarely, though,
because it was too dangerous to form a habit. He hadn't
been here for months, though.
Strangely
enough, the Major had brought him here, him and another
soldier who was on the way up, another captain. Vadim
just about managed not to stare at either man, nor to
seem too eager not to take the offer of women. It was
meant as a friendly gesture, but Vadim told him he'd
caught some unpleasant shit last time and was let off
the hook. But he did cherish the place.
Dan
was looking around himself, wary, but strangely trusting
his Russkie. The other wasn't stupid, had to be careful
himself, couldn't risk anything either. His best chance
to trust the enemy and do that lap dog thing for a while,
at least with the Russian he knew where he stood.
Vadim
knocked on the door, exchanged a few words with the
young boy, and they were let in. Dan was astonished,
but damn glad. "You think there's anyone here to
shave my head?" Frowned, hated his hair completely
cropped, but hell, he was so infested with critters
he needed to get rid of everything. "And while
you're at it, any chance for some rags that aren't crawling
with lice? No point in the bath otherwise, aye?"
Vadim
nodded. "That stuff needs to get burnt." He
fumbled for money, handed the kid some and told him
to buy a new set of clothes, native-style, and bring
razors. "Get undressed. The water should be ready.
Maybe not completely clean, but should do." He
ushered him into the next room, which was already hot
and steaming. "You lost weight."
Dan
glanced around, ending up grinning at the Russian's
care-taking. The whole situation was too absurd. Stepping
through to the other room without a fuss, rolling his
eyes. "Hey, you haven't even seen me naked, yet.
How the fuck do you know if I lost weight?"
Shrugged,
though, unwound the rag, his hair wild, worse than two
months ago, when they had last managed to meet. Long,
dark, matted, and most obviously not been washed for
too damned long. Getting out of the rest of his clothes
quicker than he'd ever done before, finally delivering
a kick to the bundle of infested rags. Hands on hips,
he turned towards the other, a haughty expression on
his face. Grimy, but smirking, and yes, starved. "Say
hello to my personal zoo."
Vadim
shook his head. "No great exhibits, nothing truly
exotic, sorry." He nodded towards the next door.
"Water. Soap. The kid should return with razors
soon."
"Bloody
slave driver." Dan muttered, glancing over his
shoulder. "You better watch your back, next time
we meet I won't be so down and out and I'll have your
arse quicker than you can utter 'poof'."
"Move
it, princess." Vadim smirked. Nothing against that,
but not now. Not. Right. Now. Damn. Too long. What,
two months? Ten weeks? He stepped forward to open the
door and Dan walked through, flashing a grin while walking.
"And you're still a fucking bastard enemy soldier
to me."
Vadim
remained dressed for the moment. Didn't trust his body
right now, and didn't want to be fucking with the Brit
when the child returned. Wouldn't do. He liked this
place.
Dan
saw the water, steaming, the heat getting into his pores
before he'd even lowered himself into the small pool.
Taking the soap with a groan of relief. "I hate
having my hair shaved." And face it, McFadyen,
it won't just be your head that needs to have its hair
lobbed off. Not with that infestation of creepy-crawlies
above and beyond your nuts, performing a native dance
as high as your eyebrows.
Vadim
sat down on the stone bench, folded his hands. "Oh,
I'll get to see rest your face? Isn't easy to tell whether
you're gorilla or man right now."
"Thank
you, arsehole. For mentioning that I hate having a damned
beard, but at least it looks more native and less 'let's
go spill blood of Daan'." Dan flicked out his middle
finger in a rude gesture.
Vadim
laughed. "Not converted to Islam, yet, huh? You'd
be their 'brother' then. Would be smart move. Of course,
Allah hates homosexuals. And you'd have to wear beard."
"The
itching's so fucking bad, no bloody way, and they can
keep their stones to themselves." Settling down
into the water, soap foaming, hands roaming, Dan let
himself soak up the heat. Fuck, that was good. Hellfire
and damnation, he had to be thankful to his Russian
cunt for all of this. Could be worse, though. Could
be someone he didn't trust. Trust?
"Soak.
That dirt is clearly measured in geological layers …"
"Aye,
comrade, whatever you say, comrade, since you pay, comrade."
Dan took the piss, then doing exactly what he'd been
told. Soaking. Cleaning, and scrubbing himself. This
was good. Better than good. Orgiastic. Would be even
better with some more food.
Vadim
watched, idly reaching into his pocket to pull out the
bag of nuts, poured some into his hand and was eating
them, one by one, enjoying the sight of the man who,
in turn, clearly enjoyed himself. And started to look
more human.
The
kid arrived with a stack of clothes and a razor while
Dan was lathering himself down for the third time. Vadim
took the stuff off him and told him to leave them alone
for a while. Following the kid, he bolted the door and
sat down again.
Dan
was dunking himself under water, washing the last soap
out of his matted hair and ears, the pool had turned
into murky dishwater with minuscule critters floating
amongst the grimy soap bubbles. "Hey!" He
turned his head round, saw Vadim eating, and pointed
at the nuts. "Bastard." Pulled himself out
of the dirty water.
"Hey,
what?" asked Vadim, oh, but appreciating the view,
naked, dripping wet body. The desire was getting pretty
close to unpleasant. "You want some?" He grinned,
suggestively. "I mean: Do you want … some?"
"Eh?"
Dan was reaching for the nuts, but the other was snatching
them away from his hand. "What the fuck's that,
aye? My services for a nut?" Did his best not to
grin, pawed at the packet again.
Vadim
held the packet, but allowed Dan to latch on to it.
"For clothes, food, wash, and maybe some cash.
Depending on your … performance." He smirked,
which changed to a downright dirty grin. "Would
love to feed you some more meat."
"Well."
Dan seemed to ponder while grabbing a handful of nuts.
"That sounds like a hardship." Yes. Really.
Terribly. "Downright abusive, if you ask me."
Shocking. Disgusting. Sucking that bastard's cock? His
life seemed to be going from bad to worse. "So,
you want me to whore my cocksucking skills out to you
for a few peanuts?"
"Yes.
And I'll toss in some dried mangoes and apples, too."
Dan
looked appalled, grimaced, stuffing himself with the
nuts. Silent while chewing, until suddenly. "Deal."
Flashed a grin. This was better than being on the run,
stripped down to nothing. Bugger them. Bloody goat-fuckers.
This was a hell of a lot better. Alive. Not too long
ago when he had been sure he'd drawn his last breath.
"You
feed me, clothe me, bathe me, help me survive - and
you got me." Didn't add, not yet, the most important
sentence: 'But if you try to buy my arse I'll kill you
with my bare hands.'
Vadim
grinned. "Deal." He surrendered the packet
to a ravenous Dan who was wolfing the entire contents
down in thirty seconds. Vadim felt an odd kind of humour
creep up inside. Paying the enemy for sex? It was really
just about keeping face, but he'd love this. It shifted
the balance. He'd get sucked off, maybe allow the other
to fuck him, but first, his needs. He swallowed dryly,
fought hard, then lost, to place his hands on the wet
flesh, tracing the lines of shoulders, arms … fuck.
He moved away again, away from a smugly grinning Dan,
and fetched the razor. "Get human."
"You
don't want any nits, fleas and lice jumping from my
beard onto your cock, eh?" Dan smirked, glanced
around, looking for some drinking water. They usually
had a jug somewhere. He'd got so used to most of the
diarrhoea bugs, he was pretty much immune. "Head,
beard, and …," he sighed and shrugged, "the
rest's itching pretty badly, too, but you're not going
to get that knife close to my balls. I'll do that myself."
Vadim
smirked and checked the razor. Metal handle, and a pack
of razor blades. It said 'Schick', whatever that meant,
wherever that came from, must have been out of production
for about fifty years. "I've shaved you before
…" he murmured.
Dan
grinned with raised brows, "My face, Russkie. Just
my face. Remember?"
"For
starters." Vadim took the beret off, then opened
the cuffs and rolled the sleeves up. "Come. Razor's
sharp, you won't feel thing."
"What,
at my throat? When you slit it?" Still, Dan sat
down on the stone bench after spotting the water jug,
and taking a swig out of it. "What first?"
Shrugged, "guess whatever. Just do it. Those bloody
critters are driving me mad."
Vadim
nodded, the blade was easily sharp enough, and he'd
got the soap while Dan was still protesting. Soaped
him up, then placed his hand on the man's shoulder,
beginning to shave in slow, regular, calm strokes, every
now and then wiping the blade on one of the rags. "I'd
have been driven insane", he murmured, assessing
the work after a couple strokes, and, satisfied, he
continued, murmuring to himself. "Well, despite
your state, you're clearly spirited enough to be entertainment
this afternoon."
Rolling
his eyes, Dan let out a groan. "Entertainment.
That's what a man is reduced to, who lost his clothes
in front of a rag-tag bunch of fucking goat-herders."
He tilted his head, "Cheers, mate. Why don't you
stab the next knife into the other side of my back and
twist it a bit more." Humour his way of dealing
with traumatic experiences.
Vadim
chuckled while finishing up the chin, and the throat,
just enjoying the sight of the fresh, bared skin, the
lines he had memorized and didn't tire of. "I'll
consider it", he said, somewhat belatedly. "But
I'll leave clean corpse. So your people can actually
identify you."
"Thanks,
arsehole." Dan hid the grin by lowering his head.
"Go on, then. It'll grow again, just get rid of
the mane." He was going to look like some fucking
skinhead without his hair, or like a Soviet conscript.
Vadim
began to trim the long hair with his knife - no way
the razor could do this - and touched Dan's head and
hair at his complete leisure. Liked the hair. Probably
caught some stuff off him now, but couldn't care. Strange,
to enjoy this so much. Then he began to shave the head
… oddly erotic, again. Never seen Dan like that.
Naked in a new way.
Dan
was tense. Knife. Russian. His head. Vadim. Blade scraping
along his skin. Trust was a fickle lady. "I'll
look like a freak." Muttered, distracting himself.
"Might be your preferred look, but not mine. Not
even a damned beret to cover my head." No beret,
no insignia. Not a scrap of ID. He didn't exist anymore,
at least not in Kabul. He'd vanish from the face of
the earth without anyone knowing, if he succumbed to
the Afghan mountains and the dangers it nurtured, its
nature, and its human beasts - every kind and colour.
"Nothing to hold onto my head anymore. Looks like
I'll be sucking your cock for food, but entirely my
way."
Vadim
paused. "No. Food is free. I'll give you money
so you can buy food." Dan's head hidden, lowered,
Vadim couldn't see his facial expression. Surprise.
Astonishment, his Russkie was more decent to him than
he'd expected. Had hoped for a scrap to eat, but this
treatment was more of a royal one. "You're treating
me like I used to treat my pussies." Dan smirked,
lifting his head.
"You
shaved their heads? You weird man." Vadim chuckled
while Dan muttered one of his choice obscenities.
Vadim
was running a hand over Dan's shaved head as he finished.
Odd. He had liked the long hair, even though Dan looked
much cleaner now, and nothing that could be done about
the hair. "Maybe I'll pay you to fuck me later
… maybe." He smirked into the other's face.
"Doesn't suit you. Not at all. You look ten years
younger."
"Oh
fuck, no more roughie-toughie squaddie? Is it choirboy,
now?" Running his own hand over his head. Dan shuddered
visibly and frowned.
Vadim
grinned. "No, not boy. But … different."
"Awful.
Don't want to see it." Dan decided to shrug in
the end, had to get on with it. "Hand me the razor.
Got to get rid of more hair."
Vadim
changed the razor blades, put in a new one, then handed
the thing over. "I mean, I could do that."
Yeah, handle his balls and cock and ass. Not a bad thought,
was what his body had to say to it.
"Bollocks."
Dan flashed a grin, crap joke, but what to expect from
a man with a head like a snooker ball. "I'm not
going to have you slash away at my crown jewels with
a sharp blade." Taking the razor, he stood with
his legs apart, starting to work away at his pubes.
Awkward. Chewing his lower lip while peering down. Wondered
if he shouldn't just shut up and let the other get on
with it.
"I'll
find some vermin poison for you … don't have it
on me, but I can bring it tomorrow." Vadim leaned
back, watching; the strangely young face, not rough,
with an inkling of what a young Dan had looked like.
What he did like about this was Dan's obvious discomfort,
and the way he handled himself. Have him smooth? Now,
that seemed like a great idea. Worked for him, on several
levels. "I can do it. If you don't mind me shaving
your ass, too."
"What?"
Dan stopped mid-motion. "Are you completely fucking
bonkers and off the rail? Shave my arse? Why the fuck
would you want to shave my arse? You're not going to
fuck me, understood? I rather starve in the streets."
He frowned, simultaneously doing small circular motions
with the razor. Dark curly hairs at his feet and the
uncomfortable realisation that he'd probably just chop
off his own balls in an attempt to shave them. Thrice
damned.
"Because
lice and other things live even there." Vadim grinned.
"Wherever there's hair. There's reason I prefer
to go smooth." He shrugged, allowing the other
to come to his own conclusions, and Dan muttered in
due time, "damn." He knew when he was beaten.
"Apart
from that … why should I force you?" Vadim
continued. Because I still want you any way I can get
you. Shit. He wanted to fuck him, but not like the first
time. He wanted the other to want it, enjoy it, understand
the lust.
"I'd
kill you if you tried to force me." Sudden seriousness
entered Dan's words and voice, and Vadim nodded understanding.
He'd understood it the first time Dan said it, ages
ago.
Dan
nodded. Holding out the razor. "Alright."
That itch was worse than having the Russkie fiddle about
with that sharp blade near his cock, balls and arse.
Vadim
stepped closer and took the razor. Still wearing his
clothes - that should give Dan a little reassurance.
Only a bit, didn't mean it couldn't happen, of course,
but maybe it calmed him.
"How
do you want me?" Dan winced. Bad choice of words,
grimaced.
Vadim
grinned. "Lie down on bench. On your back. I'll
get some water and the soap." He headed to the
tub while Dan reluctantly lay down. Knees up, arms at
his side, strangely awkward. Vadim brought everything,
then opened Dan's legs, despite the initial resistance,
and pushed one knee up. Shit. This would be hard. Dark,
bronzed skin, cock, balls, dark hair. Lots of good stuff
right there. "Now, concentrate", he murmured,
more to himself.
"Yeah,
you better, fuckhead." Dan growled, wondering if
he somehow behaved like a virgin on the wedding night.
"Guess that's what it feels like for birds at the
gynaecologist." Grumbling, but holding very, very
still. Muttering after a moment. "One nick and
I kick your balls in retaliation."
Vadim
glanced up, hand with soap reaching towards Dan's balls,
then gave a short laugh. "What if I lick blood
away? Still kick?" He asked, sounding as innocent
as he possibly could. No illusions about the range of
acting he had.
"Aye,"
Dan muttered, glaring from his rather passive position.
The tension in his body unmistakable.
Rubbing
the soap over the skin, starting with the insides of
Dan's legs, the space between thigh and balls, and on
the other side, more soap, and down from the abs. Vadim
ran the blade through the water and began to shave from
the left thigh, carefully … but he liked how still
Dan was, and how focused. "If you're not moving,
I'll give you good reward", he murmured.
Dan
cleared is throat. Unable to see much of the other,
could lift his head but didn't dare to move much. "What
reward?" Strange, that blade. Like courting an
enemy.
"Something
somebody did to me once. Wait and see." Vadim took
Dan's cock and pulled it to the side to give a precise
shave, liked the feeling in his hand. There would be
time for that, too.
"That's
… an ominous promise." Dan's breath stopped
for a moment.
Vadim
pulled it to the other side, and kept working. "You
won't regret it. That much I promise." Now the
balls. Tender, wrinkled skin, balls inside moving. He
worked like he would shave himself, every now and then
cleaning the blade.
Dan
tensed, turned into a statue, bronzed, smooth, dark
skinned, silent and utterly immobile. Even forgot to
breathe.
Vadim
took a towel, wet it and wiped Dan's front with it.
"Now comes fun part. Turn around, hands and knees,
one foot on ground." Changing the blade again.
He wouldn't risk nicks or cuts there.
"No."
Dan shook his head, ignoring the mild arousal.
Soaping
his hands up, Vadim glanced at Dan. "Basic hygiene,
Dan. Sex is later." His own body enjoying the closeness
and sight, but he was dressed, and figured the other
might not know … might be too flustered to notice.
"No."
Dan was looking at Vadim, intently. "No fucking
way am I going to get on my hands and knees."
Vadim
put the blade down. "I won't fuck you. Not tonight.
I wouldn't mind, granted, but it's about cleaning you
up. And that means that hair needs to go as well."
He watched the other, Dan's frown deepening.
"Of
course you won't fuck me. Remember? I'll kill you if
you try to fuck me."
"Listen.
It's not different from physical examinations in army.
Only I won't stick anything into you and ask you to
cough, right? Take knife if you don't believe me."
Still
undecided, Dan was lying tense, unmoving, just studying
the other's face. Nothing, until a sudden, muttered
"fuck!" and he sprang into action. Moved off
the slab, turned over, did exactly what Vadim had asked
him to do. Right knee on the stone, left foot on the
ground. On all fours, kind of. He was angry with himself,
more tense than before. How the hell could something
that had happened so long ago affect so much? Fuck that.
This was nothing. Lowered his upper body, head towards
the slab, lifting his arse. Spread. Vulnerable.
Vadim
hadn't anticipated how arousing that sight was. His
cock stirred, twitched, and he wanted nothing more than
break that promise. "Shit", he murmured. Vermin.
Shaving. The task. His soaped up hands went between
Dan's legs, dam, again inner thighs, then moved his
fingers into the crack to soap up the hair there. Tight
hole. Tight and hot. Just remembered it. Could almost
feel his breath go heavier. "Will be over in minute",
he murmured, trying to calm the other as he put the
blade to skin and began to shave. Carefully, fingers
preparing the way for the blade, moving flesh away and
smoothing it.
Dan
said nothing. Did nothing. Just listened, to fingers,
blades, voice and breath alike. Didn't like it, no fucking
way. Too tense, no way to let go and trust. "Hurry
up." Murmured.
Vadim
nodded, to himself, damn, he was hard, he wanted nothing
more than have him now, shit, tried to force himself
to think of something else, then did, that delicious
sinful thing the Hungarian had done. Szandor. Oh yes,
that man had shown him a few tricks when he thought
two men were just about fucking.
"Done
yet?" Dan muttered impatiently, but Vadim just
took a handful of the water and rinsed the smooth skin,
washed some hairs off, more water. Placed the razor
down as he brought his face forward, thumb moving one
cheek further out.
"What
the …?" Dan protested.
Taste
of soap, of water. Not too bad. Vadim ran his tongue
into the crack, nothing bad about that, then moved to
the hole, which tightened. Of course. He moved back
enough to speak. "Relax. Just showing you something."
Craning
his neck, Dan's body in fight or flight response. "What
the fuck are you doing, Russkie." One false movement,
false word, and he'd be out of the door. "You want
to lick my arse?" Disbelief.
Tongue.
Cock. No competition.
Vadim
grinned. "Guess I just did." He moved in again,
to play with that tensing muscle, amused and aroused,
which was actually not a bad combination, by the other's
disbelief. Pressed lightly against the muscle, circling
it, all good and clean, soapy, but there was sweat,
too, and the taste of Dan's body. His hand went to his
own cock. He couldn't come into his uniform. Later.
Patience.
Dan
didn't breathe, held the tension.
Tongue
flicked in, no resistance if it was wet enough, and
out, to circle. In again, gently fucking that hole.
Szandor had used this to get him ready for fucking,
and Vadim would have done anything after that, including
let the Hungarian have him any way he wanted. Mindblowing
sensation, with the small sounds the other fencer had
made, wet, obscene sounds.
Dan
still wasn't breathing, not until he suddenly gasped,
breaking some of the tension. Why the fuck did he even
allow this? What was it all about? What … damn.
Something happened in his body. Some weird assed sense
of acceptance.
"You're
fucking my arse with your tongue." Voice dry, low,
somewhat brittle. Congratulations, Dan. The power of
perception. Body something other than tense now; intense.
And fuck that, he shuddered; grew hard. So much for
control.
Don't
stop.
Vadim
paused, briefly, right hand resting on Dan's ass, steadying
himself. He wanted to bite, kiss, suck, closed his eyes,
wanted, wanted badly, relaxed his jaw muscle, then returned
to Dan's ass. Dan, who couldn't quite suppress a strange
sound. Forced, strangled, cursing elusive control.
Licking
again, tongue finding its way inside, and, almost in
an afterthought, Vadim took the other's cock with his
left, not surprised it turned Dan on, he knew what effect
that had on his body. Hand stroking him in time with
the motions of his tongue, steadily pumping him.
Dan
gasped. "Fuck, no." Control gone, no illusions.
"No." Didn't move. Couldn't. Shit, that was
... didn't know. Remembered that finger up his arse,
and how he'd wanted to kill that bastard for the intrusion
but this … Shit.
"No."
Liar. Yes. More. Pushed backwards, towards that mouth,
forcing that tongue. "No!" desperate. More,
fucking Russian cunt, give me more.
Vadim
paused, to breathe, more than anything, to keep in control,
maybe, he really only wanted to open his trousers and
fuck him right here on the spot, right now. He should
be wet enough to allow that. Hand still on Dan's cock.
"You … alright?" Fuck. And when had he
ever cared? They could beg him to stop, he never budged,
never did.
"Aye
…" Dan's breathing erratic, too far down the
path of lust. No options. "Don't." No. Fuck,
yes. No. Fuck! "Don't stop." Truth was a bitch
without tits.
"Wouldn't
want to get killed for this, you know."
"Won't."
Dan pushed his hips back, into the face, hands gripping
the stone slab with white knuckles. "Will if you
stop."
Vadim
flashed a grin, ah, exactly as intended, exactly what
he wanted, well, some of it, at least. He closed his
eyes and went back to work on Dan's ass, fucking him
with his tongue, going slow and intense, tongue flicking
in and out, or just licking, the taste of soap was gone
now, it was Dan's sweat, which he liked, and the scent
of lust. He could just imagine what Szandor had thought,
having just peeled him out of the white jacket, pushed
the white breeches down to go down on his ass, and Vadim's
self-consciousness at the sweat and the fact he worried
about being clean - obscene to enjoy this, even more
obscene to beg for cock, one's own trapped in the breeches,
untouched, on purpose. He made it easier for Dan.
One
more thought, unbidden, for Dan. He shouldn't enjoy
this. Shouldn't allow that tongue to fuck his arse,
and then he cursed himself. Discarded all thoughts,
just pushed back again and lowered his upper body until
his face was pressed against the cool stone. Like a
wanton whore, arse open, presenting himself; like the
Russkie had done. Body begging.
That
hand on his cock providing the last edge. Strokes intense,
demanding, he was ready to give it up, give in, just
touch. Body. Steam. Heat and water and the never-known
sensation of smoothly shaved skin and that tongue ...
Every second insanely intense, too much feeling. Too
much and too different to topple over that easily. Minutes
felt like hours, body moving in sync with hand and tongue,
nothing but a puppet, forgetting himself. No thoughts.
Just sensations. Nothing but a body, losing his mind.
Completely gone, handed over. Prisoner. Slave. Whatthefuckever.
Groans, whimpers, arms shaking, hands losing their strength,
knee buckling. Body sliding further and further down,
chest touching stone. Eternity. Timeless. Lust stayed
on a plateau of painful intensity until then suddenly.
No forewarning, body bucking, mind the centre of a lightning
storm. Flashes across his brain, and Dan cried out when
he came.
Vadim
was impossibly hard, briefly wondered about what picture
they provided, Russian special forces captain in combat
gear, needing so much, breathless, and a smooth, oh
no, more than naked enemy - foreigner, shaved head like
a POW in the films. Somewhere in a nameless hamam guarded
by nameless people, hidden away. He steadied Dan, who
seemed ready to collapse, leaned against him to keep
him on the bench. Wouldn't do to have him fall down
now.
And
Dan simply let himself give in like a boneless weight,
slid onto the stone, lying in the other's arms for a
moment. What a fucking inappropriate place to be, if
only he gave a damn. Didn't. Couldn't. Just lay and
breathed, eyes closed. He wouldn't even feel nor see
his death coming.
Vadim
tore himself from Dan's body, knew the man wouldn't
be able to resist if he fucked him now, no way Dan had
enough strength to do much more than bitch at him, but
he believed him. Dan would kill him if he did that.
He'd try, at least. And he couldn't get that other thing.
Holding him. Too much on edge, needing too much. More
contact would break his control.
Restraint.
Vadim stood, all blood, all reason, all strength gathered
in the middle of his body, and he gave a dry huff. Fuck
that. He reached into a thigh pocket for a flask of
vodka he kept around to wash out cuts or nicks, and
to wash the dust from between his teeth, and emptied
it. Taste. Not as bad as cum, but a reminder of what
he'd done, and what he wanted, of the other, and he
needed distance now. "You should rest."
He
turned to face Dan again, whose head turned, body remained
relaxed. Tiger. Kitten. Defenceless. Didn't think. Didn't
want to. Overrated.
"You're
hard." Dan's eyes open at last, looking directly
at Vadim's crotch. "I'll suck you."
Vadim's
cock twitched yes, but damn, he needed distance, knew
too well what he'd do if that control was taken away.
Knew himself too well. That throat wasn't enough. More.
"Give me moment." He stood there, closed the
flask and stowed it away, then reached with a hand into
the basin to wash his face and neck, ran a towel over
his skin. Wrong to want so much. Dan never allowed him
to grow tired of him. It was the situation, war made
life more intense, yes, and they met so rarely.
Suck
me. Eye for an eye. Lust for lust. It only seemed fair.
Vadim covered the distance, ran a hand over Dan's smooth
scalp. Fuck. Nothing to hold him by, he looked like
a different man. That was the key. Different man. Vadim
opened his combat trousers, just enough to free his
cock. No time to get undressed. Too dangerous.
"Straddle
me." Dan ordered. The bench had the right width,
right height. "Like I did." With a knife on
a throat and the intention to humiliate. Different,
now. Cocksucker. Loved cock. Didn't care. He turned
over onto his back, looking up at the other, knees slightly
bent. His whole body different, sensitised. Smooth,
perfect. Except for the imperfections - some scars,
no hair.
"Give
me your cock."
Vadim
swallowed dryly, then did, straddled the other's chest,
kept the weight on his legs, and leaned in, moved down
that body to reach his lips. Give me your cock.
Shit, like a request, almost polite. His face twitched.
At least, it wouldn't be easy to turn him around and
fuck him raw, now. Good. Another anchor for his sanity.
He was pretty damned close anyway. Wouldn't take forever.
Brought his cock forward and down, one hand directing
it.
He
was pulled further down within an instant. Dan's hands
at Vadim's hips, urging and pulling closer, deeper.
Parting his lips, tongue meeting resistance, hardness,
smooth and heated. Concentrating, easy task, relaxed
and mellow, calm, his throat opened. Dan gave the Russkie's
hips a harder push, forced that cock all the way down
his throat. Shit, that reminded him. Of a time where
he'd had no choice but to choke and gag and swallow,
but now, he was in control.
It
was good. Deeper. Almost painful, but hell, too sated
to care. Fucking his arse with a tongue, fucking his
throat with a cock. And still in control. Some semblance.
Vadim
groaned, tight heat, being urged and needed, taken like
that, he suppressed a curse, instead moved, needed to
fuck, needed to have it, right now. Thrusting hard into
the other's throat, who took the strain, the force,
eyes closed, just sensation, almost gratitude, might
be using too much strength but just couldn't stop, then,
with another choked sound, came, feeling the throat
around his cock frantically swallow in reflex. Needed
both hands to steady himself, pulled back the next instant,
wanted to collapse, but there was no room but on the
other man.
Dan
gasped for breath, coughing, but grinning, moved a hand
to wipe his lips, wet with a trail of cum as the other
pulled out. Clearing his throat, said nothing, head
fallen back on the slab, relaxed, but hands digging
into Vadim's uniform-clad arse. Muscles. Power. Just
like himself.
Vadim
didn't have the strength to get away, so just lay down
on the other, possessive hands on his ass. Dan didn't
complain, lay still, his body covered. One naked, one
in uniform.
Vadim
wanted to rest, rest his head against the other's, or
his shoulder, just dipped down to lick Dan's chest,
couldn't and wouldn't kiss it, scraped his teeth against
the other's pec. Glanced up, saw his cum on the Brit's
face. Shit. Licking it away would be too much like kissing.
"You're messy eater", he said, grinning.
Dan's
brows raised, lifting his head from the stone to glance
quizzically at the other. "Guess I was just too
hungry." Smirked, teeth and all, before trying
to reach the spot of cum with the tip of his tongue.
Contorting his face in the process, reluctant to let
go of the Russkie's arse. His.
He
suddenly huffed with dry laughter, out of the blue.
"We're not enemies right now." One skin, another
camo. "Haven't even got my hair. Let alone any
semblance of uniform."
Vadim
grinned. That humour told him it would be alright. He
moved in to lick the cum off, didn't even like the taste
of his own, whatever, wasn't much, but loved the feel
of the other's stubble on his lips. The moment a razor
stopped touching that skin, it grew stubbly.
"Hey,
take that tongue out of my face, it's been in my arse!"
Dan's lips morphed into a toothy grin, that tongue a
quite indescribable sensation on his face. Almost …
tender. A slow-gentle rasp, the opposite of a punch.
"Guess
you're too deep undercover, huh?" Vadim grinned.
"Don't
think I can get any more undercover. I'm covered
by a Soviet officer." Dan smirked, letting his
head fall back onto the slab, looked up at the ceiling.
The other's weight was considerable, his own body muscular
enough to tolerate the man on top. Odd. Sensed his reluctance
to move, that weight was strangely reassuring.
Vadim
gave a short laugh. "Next time I bring the whole
Christmas tree, service ribbons and all, so you can
enjoy it more."
Dan
laughed, his whole body shaking. "The lametta would
dig into me."
Damn,
Vadim thought. This was the perfect place to be. "Can't
have you get cold, eh?"
"Cold?
Despite my bare head, highly unlikely. It's July."
Dan smirked, one hand moving up towards the small of
the other's back. Resting there. The other hand still
digging into the Russkie's arse. "Even though that
cum under my back is getting cold and sticky."
"Yeah.
And there's that." Vadim was reluctant to leave,
those hands on his body were firm, solid, but did, getting
up from one of the best places in the world to rest.
Narrowly beaten by the sun-drenched beach at Sochi.
"Guess you need another wash."
"But
not in the same water." Dan gestured over to where
dirt, hair and vermin were floating. Moving his limbs,
stretching. Still sated, remained on the bench, watching
the other.
Vadim
put the uniform back in order, body tingling still.
Rest up, have a vodka or two, and lots of home cooked
food. "Listen. I have some money on me, not much,
can't have it stolen, but should be enough for meal
and room. I have some … foreign money. That should
keep your head above water."
Dan
remained quiet. Lay on his side, propped up on his elbow,
head in hand. Said nothing for a long time, just watching.
Thoughts waging a war, should he accept it, could he.
Had to. Had hoped he'd get help, a bite to eat, no denial.
Had counted on the Russkie, but hadn't expected this.
This ... taking care. Shit. Seemed he was supposed to
stay alive.
Dan
nodded at last. "I'll pay you back. I'll be on
R&R shortly." Payback with goods, not money.
More valuable and useful. Tit for tat.
Only
when Vadim flashed a smile did he realize he'd been
nervous the other might not accept. "Good. It's
not my money, anyway. Loot." He shrugged. Turkeys
usually had well-stuffed money belts. He wanted to go
back, on top of the man, but had no reason to. "How
long will you be gone?" Months, again. Weeks and
months and wondering whether last time had indeed been
that: last time.
"R&R?
No more than three weeks this time. Including travel."
Dan shrugged, running a hand down his hip, letting it
fall towards his groin. Unfamiliar. Smooth, strange.
Overly sensitive. The itch when it grew back would be
hell.
Vadim
checked his watch to not look at the other man. "I'll
meet you tomorrow, same time, where I had my tea."
Dan nodded while Vadim dug into his thigh pocket, and
found the tight, hard roll of dollars. Fifty dollars.
They actually had value in Kabul, pulled it out and
placed it on the corner of the slab.
"Are
you insane?" Dan stared at the money, sat up at
last. "That's too much. I know Kabul like I used
to know the Scottish Highlands. I don't need more than
twenty bucks and it'll last a while. I just need a safe
hole, some grub, nothing fancy. Keep some of your turkey
stuffing, you might need it." Remembered another
turkey, not so long ago, and the Russian's decency.
Enemies or not, they'd long passed into No Man's Land.
Dan
was probably right about the money. It was just that
Vadim preferred to have him on the safe side. Vadim
opened the roll, peeled thirty off and put them back
in his pocket. Left the rest. Would have left thirty,
but didn't want to start a discussion on it. Too mellow.
What
now? Vadim straightened to look at Dan. "And poison,
of course. Anything else?" Hoped his face betrayed
he regretted to leave. Hoped he would be asked to stay.
What for? Couldn't touch him, but wanted, wanted to
undress, give him a massage, again, take his time with
the other's body. Just spend the night.
Dan
shook his head, a hand on the twenty dollars in his
lap. "No. Nothing else. You don't particularly
live in luxury, either." Sitting and looking, just
watching again. Always this gaze. Dark eyes, resting.
Vadim
shrugged. "I get by. What do I actually need?"
Beyond feeding the family? Precious little. "Doesn't
matter." What matters is that I get out of here
alive, and you, too, he thought, but the last part of
that thought did no longer surprise him. Been through
too much already.
"I
guess they're wondering where you've vanished to already,
aye?"
Vadim
inhaled deeply. "It's one of guy's birthday today.
There will be party. Vodka. I better go. Few reasons
to pass on party." And he'd better find a present
on the market on the way back.
"Vodka."
Dan suddenly grinned. "Reminds me to go back to
your question if I need anything else. Can you get me
some vodka? Any cheap shit will do. Haven't had booze
for ages. Bloody goat-fuckers doing their Allah shit
won't allow any drinks."
"Plenty
of moonshine in barracks. I'll just do inspection tomorrow,
when everybody's still hurting." Vadim grinned.
Dan
stood up, lifted a hand in an indicated wave after dropping
the dollars on the pile of new clothes. "Guess
I get myself cleaned up again and then head off. Will
be at the same place tomorrow. Have a good party, Russkie."
Added, with a raised brow and a flash of teeth, "and
don't do anything I wouldn't do when you're pissed.
Not many unsuspecting 'reporters' on the streets of
Kabul anymore." A jab, but strangely enough not
a vicious one. An almost negligent piss-take. Odd, that.
The things a man's tongue in one's arse could do. "I
wouldn't trust anyone with a press ID these days."
Vadim
paused, then flashed a grin. "Guess I have all
press coverage I can handle." He frowned again,
wondering just how many of Dan's sort prowled the city
these days. "Just keep me happy, suka, and I won't
stray from path, yes?"
"What
did you just call me?" Dan tilted his head.
Vadim
paused. "You owe me few of those. You're one who
calls me 'cunt', Dan."
"Touché."
Dan shrugged, grinned, relaxed. "In that case I
owe you more than just a few, but I guess we're even."
One rape. One torture. Accounts settled.
Vadim
raised his eyebrows. "Joke, though. Would you prefer
'darling'?"
Dan
smirked, gave a rude gesture with one hand, the other
middle finger stuck down his throat, making gagging
noises.
Vadim
laughed at that, plucked the beret from under his epaulettes
and put it on, checking that it had the correct angle.
"Yeah, yeah. Very convincing."
"Fuck
off and get pissed." Dan waved the other away with
a dry sound, akin to a huff. Calling after Vadim, "and
don't forget, you're my cunt."
Vadim
turned to wink. "We'll see about that tomorrow."
|
Special
Forces
