Kassian leaned back, nearly drowsy, eyes half-closed. The steam and the liquor had conspired to turn his thoughts torpid. He merely listened as the Ocelots joked amongst themselves, following the conversations from one man to the next.
His attention was drawn by Isaev's voice, but as he looked over he saw that the others were teasing the lieutenant, and then he saw why.
Kassian looked away immediately, jaw going tight.
Among other things.
He closed his eyes deliberately and took in a deep, humid breath, then thought about nothing, again and again.
Kassian had the advantage of his years and self-discipline to keep him relaxed enough to not let any interest show. What also helped was the thought of drawing attention, or worse yet, someone making the connection between himself and Isaev.
Humiliation did not become him, and made him feel small.
It still didn't keep him from flinching when someone bumped his shoulder and handed him the slivovic. He'd taken sips in measured grimaces before, but this time he took a deep, violent pull, coughing before passing on the bottle on to the next man's hand.
He told himself it was nothing, not erotic in the slightest, that Isaev's state was a natural function of just the heat and bodies pressed close together, and the thrill of the kidnapping earlier.
Then he remembered he was not supposed to be thinking about it at all, and scowled.
Kassian did not dare to look at Isaev again, but instead kept his eyes firmly closed and focused on another conversation, marking it closely, hoping that it would be soon time to throw Borishnakov in the snow, or make him vomit, or something. Otherwise the night might just go on a little too long.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-09-07 09:11 pm (UTC)His attention was drawn by Isaev's voice, but as he looked over he saw that the others were teasing the lieutenant, and then he saw why.
Kassian looked away immediately, jaw going tight.
Among other things.
He closed his eyes deliberately and took in a deep, humid breath, then thought about nothing, again and again.
Kassian had the advantage of his years and self-discipline to keep him relaxed enough to not let any interest show. What also helped was the thought of drawing attention, or worse yet, someone making the connection between himself and Isaev.
Humiliation did not become him, and made him feel small.
It still didn't keep him from flinching when someone bumped his shoulder and handed him the slivovic. He'd taken sips in measured grimaces before, but this time he took a deep, violent pull, coughing before passing on the bottle on to the next man's hand.
He told himself it was nothing, not erotic in the slightest, that Isaev's state was a natural function of just the heat and bodies pressed close together, and the thrill of the kidnapping earlier.
Then he remembered he was not supposed to be thinking about it at all, and scowled.
Kassian did not dare to look at Isaev again, but instead kept his eyes firmly closed and focused on another conversation, marking it closely, hoping that it would be soon time to throw Borishnakov in the snow, or make him vomit, or something. Otherwise the night might just go on a little too long.