Andrei's eyebrows vaulted as Borishnakov blew past Raikov like a skin-colored comet, with blurred accents of crimson and black.
And a trailing a tail of sorts.
"Jebat'," he exclaimed. "Either he's a real driven son of a bitch, or he really likes being in a state of nature."
He paused, grinning at Charushkin.
"...Or Major Raikov really is that scary."
He was pretty sure it was choice three, come to think of it.
Andrei was beginning to lose the mild buzz he'd allowed to permeate him, and now the reality of what he'd offered the Captain was beginning to sink in.
It intrigued him, the whole idea of it. Knowing him, learning him. Touching him. Letting him do what he would, to see if he would do anything at all.
He'd occasionally found himself compelled by men not unlike Irinarhov, but never enough to pursue or engage them beyond irreverent reverence and acquaintanceship.
It was different somehow, with the sniper. Though Kassian had resisted his overtures, everything Andrei could feel from him contradicted that. He knew that he was hungry for contact.
While Irinarhov was hardly old, he was markedly older than Andrei- and might have been 'old enough to be his father', where it not for the fact that Andrei's older brother Lasha was exactly Kassian Irinarhov's age.
And he could not have been a more polar opposite.
There was something to that, he knew.
Abruptly, his thoughts turned to Ilya.
Andrei frowned, unwittingly betraying the uncharacteristic expression, and he grew brooding, without knowing why.
The whole thought of Ilya...
Something amiss. Something strange.
Perhaps because he was absent, thought Andrei. It's like missing an arm.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-10-02 01:46 am (UTC)And a trailing a tail of sorts.
"Jebat'," he exclaimed. "Either he's a real driven son of a bitch, or he really likes being in a state of nature."
He paused, grinning at Charushkin.
"...Or Major Raikov really is that scary."
He was pretty sure it was choice three, come to think of it.
Andrei was beginning to lose the mild buzz he'd allowed to permeate him, and now the reality of what he'd offered the Captain was beginning to sink in.
It intrigued him, the whole idea of it. Knowing him, learning him. Touching him. Letting him do what he would, to see if he would do anything at all.
He'd occasionally found himself compelled by men not unlike Irinarhov, but never enough to pursue or engage them beyond irreverent reverence and acquaintanceship.
It was different somehow, with the sniper. Though Kassian had resisted his overtures, everything Andrei could feel from him contradicted that. He knew that he was hungry for contact.
While Irinarhov was hardly old, he was markedly older than Andrei- and might have been 'old enough to be his father', where it not for the fact that Andrei's older brother Lasha was exactly Kassian Irinarhov's age.
And he could not have been a more polar opposite.
There was something to that, he knew.
Abruptly, his thoughts turned to Ilya.
Andrei frowned, unwittingly betraying the uncharacteristic expression, and he grew brooding, without knowing why.
The whole thought of Ilya...
Something amiss. Something strange.
Perhaps because he was absent, thought Andrei. It's like missing an arm.