GRU Barracks, Part 2
Sep. 12th, 2006 07:34 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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(Continued from previous thread.)
Borishnakov burst from the dog pen, leaving dozens of barking puppies in his wake, though with a pair of boots clutched tightly to his chest.
First test passed, then. Kassian nodded. He had the feeling this particular Ocelot would earn his spots, as Isaev had phrased it, without any trouble. He certainly seemed ardent enough, barely pausing long enough to stamp on his boots before he began to slog through the snow toward the tanks Isaev had pointed out. Each was marked with a flash of red or black, though getting to the items in question without freezing body parts to the metal would be tricky. Trickier while drunk, he was certain, but Borishnakov seemed game.
As they watched from the landing, Kassian and Isaev started to talk...
Borishnakov burst from the dog pen, leaving dozens of barking puppies in his wake, though with a pair of boots clutched tightly to his chest.
First test passed, then. Kassian nodded. He had the feeling this particular Ocelot would earn his spots, as Isaev had phrased it, without any trouble. He certainly seemed ardent enough, barely pausing long enough to stamp on his boots before he began to slog through the snow toward the tanks Isaev had pointed out. Each was marked with a flash of red or black, though getting to the items in question without freezing body parts to the metal would be tricky. Trickier while drunk, he was certain, but Borishnakov seemed game.
As they watched from the landing, Kassian and Isaev started to talk...
no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 10:24 pm (UTC)Did it answer his question?
"I don't think it does," he replied, idly. "But I'm content to tolerate my own uncertainty, as they advise in Socratic Method."
Irinarhov didn't get it. Perhaps because he was older, perhaps because he'd long since left expressions of youthful lust.
The difference, to Andrei, was profound. It wasn't that he'd never experienced sensuality or gentle moments of pleasure and benovolence. He'd touched and been touched in sweetness and adulation. Comrade love was complicated, unspoken and undeclared. There were no rules, per se, only what each man was willing to accept.
But Irinarhov's gesture had contained a different dynamic. One that went beyond the erotic and sensual, toward the reverential.
Andrei smirked good naturedly, arching his brow.
"Are you making love to me, Captain Irinarhov?" he drawled.
He didn't mind the Captain touching his hair. Ilya touched his hair, sometimes, when they were drunk and sprawled on a bunk, calling him Andrusha, murmuring utter nonsense into his cheek instead of his ear, amusing and endearing.
Irinarhov looked thoughtful, or maybe just dazed. His dark eyes were solemn and shining.
Vitya again, this Vitya. The obvious question that it begged was whether he'd kissed his sniper comrade like that.