GRU Barracks, Part 3 -> The East Wing

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

Matvei had helped Sergei along with his bad leg, determined they should get their fair chance to inflict as much embarrassment on Borishnakov as when they had each been forced to do the circuit.

And now, they had a damned good front-row seat of the hilarity.


Laughing, he slapped Sergei appreciatively on the shoulder at the size of the audience amassed: Major Raikov seemed casually amused at the Ocelots staggering in, but he was pacing across the floor like a lion waiting to be released into the gladiatorial arena, and his unit had filled up the entirety of the second-floor bridge.

That was to be expected, but they had taken the base of the stairs, which meant they could observe firsthand whether or not Raikov took a shine to their new recruit.

"I bet," Matvei said to Sergei amidst all the cheer, "that our Vladya will manage to dodge Raikov's signature move."

He laughed, flopping onto his shoulder. "God, I'm glad we only had to do this once."

Matvei could hardly forget it.

After being thoroughly scared senseless, plied with drink, and making several trips in and out the banya for his uniform, when he'd been thrown to Major Raikov he'd been paralysed... which had been very bad for him, but it did help to kick in the instinct to run.

And Raikov, mercifully, had shown very little interest in him. That had been lucky. He'd not been at his best, and by the time he'd finished the run, he was swaying with tiredness; at which point a certain good-natured comrade had kindly relieved him from the celebrations as soon as was acceptable, and taken him to his new quarters...

He shook his head, and it occurred to him. "Where's our Andrei?" He asked his friend, looking around, with a little frown.

Comments

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

Matvei gave a rumbling laugh, more felt than seen, resting his spiky hair into Sergei's short cut.

"It is theraputic," he answered, grinning. "If Ilya were here, he'd know how to describe what I mean."

He raised his eyes to nod meaningfully to Andrei, but swiftly looked away again.

It was time to see how Borishnakov measured up against Raikov.

[raidenovitch.livejournal.com]

Raikov gaped as Borishnakov disappeared, straight past him.

He mentally cursed, but smiled sweetly for his adoring crowd. Second pass, second chance.

He pursed his lips in thought, before grinning, and stepped boldly up to one of the soldiers, holding out his hand.

A loud cheer and a good deal of laughter bubbled up as Raikov raised his arm to show Borishnakov's prize for his first lap: his boxers.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"Khui, I thought he was going to grab a substitute," exclaimed Andrei, relieved and laughing.

Even in the crush and throng of ebullient Ocelotry, Andrei was quite aware of Irinarhov's palm against his sacroiliac. It had appeared out of nowhere.

It was a pleasant surprise.

He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth...or even a trojan one, if the truth be told, so he simply leaned back slightly, pressing into the tentative caress.

"That's a drag," muttered Andrei. "I was really hoping for a good, solid Raikovian greeting."

He grinned and gave an idle shrug.

"No matter. He won't miss twice."

After a moment, he turned his eyes obscurely to Kassian.

"Assessing the terrain, Captain?" he murmured. "Making adustments to your approach?"

A slight smile.

"...Don't forget to account for drift."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian let out a breath.

"Lieutenant, you have no shame."

His mouth twitched to the side, almost reluctantly, but he let his thumb stroke Isaev's spine.

He turned his head, to watch for Borishnakov's reappearance. "Don't worry," he returned, "I don't fire until I'm sure of my mark."

Kassian kept his hand there until the crowd shifted, and everyone turned to follow Borishnakov's second lap. It seemed like the new recruit's artful dodge had earned him some supporters, and the crowed cheered him on.

He grazed shoulders with Isaev, refitting himself in the sphere of the lieutenant's personal space. It felt natural.

Something he could get used to, he thought.

[gurlukovich.livejournal.com]

Completely unaware of what was going on with Andrei and Kassian, Sergei simply continued to watch, leaning against Matvei while his bright blue eyes fixed on the first clash between Raikov and Borishnakov.

Altogether disappointed, but it wasn't over yet.

Snickering at the show of boxers, Sergei tried not to think too much about his own hazing. Luckily, Raikov hadn't shown a huge amount of interest in him.

He'd wondered quite a few times if Ocelot had warned the other major.

It was nice to assume that he had. Smiling to himself, he waited for the second confrontation with bated breath.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"Raikov fucking screwed it up," sighed Andrei. "After all my hard work."

The boxers were never the first thing awarded- it negated the premise of a panicky naked jog, after all.

The order was upper body, then lower. Prolong the agony.

"He's acting like he's never done this before."

Isaev grinned obliquely at the sight of Matvei and Sasha. They had their own little world, crazy young underbrothers.

Irinarhov was pleasing him, with this unexpected sexual temerity. It seemed that in issues of carnality, like riflery, the Captain was only hesitant before getting something in his sights.

Then, he shot to kill.

His hand had wandered away from discreetly toying with Andrei's physique, but his proximity and intent were still clear and present, waiting, patiently seeking an opportune moment to zero in and demand his intimate acquaintance.

Andrei shivered and smiled to himself.

Borishnakov's scarf unwound and tripped him, but he kept on like a bat out of hell.

Isaev howled.

You couldn't buy this.

No fucking chance.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"Maybe it's a bait-and-switch," Kassian offered. "Crueler to make him think he'll get mercy, and then yank it away."

Looking at Major Raikov's calculating smile, Kassian didn't much doubt it.

He wondered how often new Ocelots joined the unit, if Imanov and Isaev where the seniors. The turnover rate must be fairly high, he thought, given the familiarity of this ritual, though he wondered at the reason. Ocelot's demanding standards, or the crocodiles in the marsh?

His eyes narrowed, watching Borishnakov's charge. The new recruit was running so hard that Kassian wondered if he even intended to pause and try to snatch his boxers, or not risk Raikov's hand and just surge forward.

[raidenovitch.livejournal.com]

Raikov smirked as Borishnakov helter-skeltered the corner, stumbling, but looking with intense longing at the boxers held upon high.

Now, all he had to do is see which instinct won out: the one to run, and keep running, or the one to get his clothing back.

The latter, of course, was where the fun came in.

He waved them like a rag to a bull, although if what he'd seen was any indication, the new recruit might just run headlong into them in an attempt to reclaim them.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

Boxers, and risk getting grabbed by Raiov, or no boxers and safely run naked for the next lap.

It wasn't as difficult a choice as he thought it would be. Vladislav, had he not already had an experience with the Major, might've gone after the article of clothing.

But the first experience was traumatic enough, it had happened in private, and he'd been fully clothed at the time. This would be a hundred times worse, at least, and he wasn't going to risk it. There wasn't enough alcohol in the entire Soviet Union to get him drunk enough to forget something like that.

Yaromirovich instead chose to stay as far away from the major as possible and run past.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

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.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

He'd been right about Borishnakov: the man had just run straight past. Well, that was one way to avoid gifts that came with too high of a price. Simply not take them in the first place.

It let Borishnakov dictate his own terms. A position of strength.

He nodded approvingly. Borishnakov, he sensed, would do just fine in the squad.

Kassian never made it his practice to get caught up in squad dynamics, but as the quiet observer, he'd seen a lot over the years, enough to get a sense about people and how they thought. Borishnakov was the type who could hold his own, in nearly any situation.

Much like Isaev, he thought.

He glanced at Isaev, who, strangely, seemed troubled, though his focus was distant, and not on Borishnakov.

He wondered what it was. Second thoughts? Cold feet? Or another matter entirely?

Or was it, perhaps, another thing that Isaev would be reluctant to discuss? Kassian recalled the awkward gap in their conversation, when he'd asked about Isaev's schooling.

In spite of his earlier declaration of ask me anything, there were some things that the lieutenant apparently didn't want to share.

No need to know immediately burned in him. He was content to wait, and see if Isaev would change his mind. If there was one thing Kassian had learned as a sniper, it was patience.

He reached out, casually, and drew the back of his hand down Isaev's arm. It was a brief gesture, of both affection and brotherhood, and he fleetingly met the lieutenant's gaze.

There was no question in Kassian's eyes, but rather a quiet, unspoken connection.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei blinked, and his lips stumbled over a smile, but it righted after a moment, and burned brightly.

"I'm favorable," he said, though Irinarhov had not asked.

At least not with words.

Yes, as always, at the crux of it he was fine. Although he realized his slight turn of ennui for what it was, and did not try to dismiss or deny it in his own mind.

It was easy enough to explain.

The cold, the drink, the snow- the default assignment of ringmaster and taskmaster that he always seemed to inhabit like a favored pair of gloves- it had all taken its toll.

He wanted nothing more than cool sheets and borrowed warmth, and a hasteless descent into pleasure and somnolence.

Thick blankets above, and solid flesh below.

Arms, perhaps, to collapse into, in exchange for his own.

He thought of his bed back home- both in the sprawling townhouse in Petrograd and the Krimea holiday villa, and how for all the fine linens and down bolsters, he had never slept better than here in Groznyj Grad, in a rough bunk, in a shared room.

He hadn't slept as well since Ilya went down sick.

Used to the breathing, perhaps, or the resultant proximity of those frequent visits in the dead of night.

Andrei shook his head, to clear it.

"I think Borishnaov may get to skip the unmentionable part two of the tradition," he laughed, absently. "Unless Charushkin feels mercenary tonight."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian nodded, accepting Isaev's assurance.

He believed him. The lieutenant did seem favorable, though he still wondered at what had been left unsaid.

It seemed unlike Isaev to be troubled, but then again, he didn't know. He'd only associated with the man for a day. Less than a day.

Somehow, though, it didn't seem to matter. He was comfortable.

But he wondered at this unmentionable part of the ritual, actually now mentioned twice, as he recalled. The first time, he hadn't been paying enough attention during Isaev's argument with Charushkin at the range.

It had been very veiled, but from the way Isaev had hinted, it seemed to be some dark secret.

His brows drew together. "What?" he asked, but said it quietly. Kassian was sure even Isaev would not discuss something unmentionable too loudly.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei paused, looking Irinarhov over, momentarily bewildered, but suddenly regaining his sense.

"Oh. Oh. Izvinit. Of course, you don't know."

He paused, averting his eyes with a wry smile.

"Well, comrade...it's customary to initiate a new brother...into other military traditions as well."

He was sure Irinarhov would begin to see his meaning, but he searched for clarifying words. After all, the Captain deserved to know what the rest of them did.

"When you're charged with the duty of abducting a man and dragging him into this whole circus, you also become responsible for his well-being. You might put him through hell, but you also make sure he does all right- that he doesn't go hypothermic, that he doesn't go toxic with drink, that he doesn't hit his head on a tank barrel and get a concussion. You know."

Andrei shrugged.

"Traditionally, one of the captors of the new recruit makes amends after the hazing. Usually...in the form of certain service rendered unto the initiate." Isaev paused, and shot him a quick, significant look. "...Mouth to gun, if you follow."

His laugh was rueful, subdued.

"Most don't refuse."

Of course, no one refused indefinitely.

Some tried, of course, still somehow ingrained with the mores of civilian life. And the initiate's brother might good-naturedly relent, and leave him to his rest.

But they came around to the reality of Groznyj Grad sooner or later. You could be an unwilling priest or embrace your brother's gun.

Sodomite or cenobite, thought Andrei, darkly amused.

Now, of course, Irinarhov would piece together what had transpired between himself and Charushkin, if he had not before.

It wasn't exactly a secret, though Matvei didn't like to speak of of it. He would get flushed and stymied, and punch Andrei in the arm if he teased him about it.

He wondered why Motya was such a girl about that, when he was utterly unfazed by a jogging man with his dork flapping around like an angry ostrich.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian listened to Isaev's explanation patiently, but soon it became clear.

"Ah," he said, nodding. He understood.

He had been in the military since he was a very young man. He'd not considered such things before that, what happened between comrades in the dark, so while it had been a surprise at first, he'd easily accepted it as being normal, since he'd known nothing else.

Throughout his career, Kassian had not remained celibate, Vitya notwithstanding.

He'd told Isaev that he didn't engage comrades lightly, and it was true.

At times, awkward, yes. Infrequent, certainly.

But there had been occasions when he just needed, had to ground himself in the reality of bare flesh against his.

He hadn't sought out partners. Especially after Vitya. But if it happened, it happened, and he tried not to dwell on it later.

The idea of it meaning something, becoming personal, just hurt too much.

Isaev was different, though, damn him, Kassian thought, almost fondly. He'd pushed and pushed and made Kassian his friend.

His mouth quirked as he glanced at Isaev.

"I understand," he said. It did not surprise him. There were no women here, no nearby villages. Only hot-blooded young men surrounded by snow and concrete walls.

It was a fine of a tradition as any, though he was just as glad he didn't have to go through it.

Officially, that was.

Not really such a dark secret then, in spite of what official regulations said. Though some senior officers in more civilized posts were strict in their enforcement, most, he'd found, understood the reality of what happened between soldiers who risked their lives daily and just needed some release.

His gaze flicked in Charushkin's direction. "You think he won't do it?" he murmured in question, watching the way Charushkin leaned against the other young Ocelot. He hadn't bothered to learn the junior lieutenant's name at roll but he'd been so earnest about his crocodile bite.

Kassian wondered, idly, if he'd killed the crocodile, or merely run away.

Perhaps Charushkin and he were good friends.

He shrugged. He wasn't bothered by it.

To Kassian, there was not only no shame in fucking a comrade, there was also no shame in loving him, either.

[gurlukovich.livejournal.com]

Sergei, meanwhile, was unaware of the fact that Kassian was eyeing him and Matvei. No, Matvei was the only other Ocelot he was currently aware of at the moment, even though they were crowded all around him. His eyes were on the spectacle at hand and his thoughts were half on Borishnakov and half on other things.

Worrying again. He'd be teased if anyone noticed his far-off look, but he couldn't help it. He cared for his major (his friend) and his recent absence was bothersome. Despite the fact that Ocelot had explained his reasons (which were legitimate), Sergei was still wondering if the major was okay.

He didn't blame Borishnakov for running past. In a way, it wasn't worth the risk.

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

"Hey." Matvei nudged Sergei with his elbow, pointing. "How many laps is he going to do if he's not going to collect his clothing?"

He was both amused and somewhat dissapointed, but was sure Raikov had something up his sleeve...

... like the boxers.

Major Raikov looked black as thunder at being denied a second opportunity to grab the new Ocelot, and tucked the boxers inside his uniform jacket airily, looking especially determined.

He's in for it now, Matvei thought, grinning.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Irinarhov had asked whether Matvei intended to go through with the after-hours aspect of the hazing ritual, and Andrei didn't hesitate in replying.

"I know for an absolute fact that he won't do it," Andrei said flatly. "Matvei has issues with that part of things."

He didn't speculate as to why.

"Borishnakov will sleep just fine all by himself." he added. "He seems a little tightly wound anyway. Wouldn't want to give him PTSD."

In fact, Vladislaus was perfectly safe from any kind of indecent overture from any of them, because no one else was intending to take one for the team.

"Since that's the case, I hope he's not hiding because he's afraid of getting a guerilla blowjob," drawled Andrei. "Word does get around."

He wished he could assure Vladya that none of them were planning to molest him.

"I'm not at all sure he's physically fit enough to be an Ocelot," laughed Andrei. "This is turning out to be the slowest lap circuit I've ever witnessed."

[raidenovitch.livejournal.com]

Raikov didn't want to disappoint the audience. He was going to have to go for crueler tactics.

He looked bored of not being able to catch Borishnakov, and with a semi-defeated sigh snatched up the striped ocelot shirt, and tossed it carelessly across the hallway.

A few drunkenly indignant cries came to his ears, but he ignored them. For not being very sporting, Raikov was prepared to play the same.

Vladislaus was fast, but Raikov was also surprisingly quick when he wanted to be.

So when Borishnakov thought he could chance grabbing his shirt, the Major pounced, in a swift, fluid movement - his boots slid across the polished floor like a dancers', and his gloved hands grabbed onto some slender hips as the ocelot had bent over.

He also had a very firm grip.

"Hello," he purred very deliberately, and pressed up against his backside before he had time to react.

The wonderful thing about rumours were that they did all the work for him when it came to terrorizing others.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"Maybe he's hiding," Kassian was saying, right as Borishnakov re-emerged into view. He shrugged, watching as the quick-footed recruit went for the bait and ended up getting caught. The crowd howled their delight, calling out suggestions, cheering Raikov on.

There was another thing he couldn't see himself doing, glad again for the shield of influence that Isaev had exerted on his behalf. In any case, by the time Imanov got out of the infirmary, his own initiation would be even more pointless than it already was today.

He wondered how long the major would grope and grind against Borishnakov. Raikov seemed to be enjoying it, at least, but judging by the look of startled horror that flashed across Borishnakov's features, he didn't seem to feel the same.

Kassian raised an eyebrow in Isaev's direction. "After that, he probably will be afraid."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"After that, he tvoy'mat well should be!" exclaimed Andrei, eyes wide.

Raikov was teaching Borishnakov a lesson, and he left no doubt about it.

"I've never seen him go that far with it, in all my time here," he marveled, stunned.

Andrei raised his voice just enough to be heard above the clamor.

"This is something we all can learn from," he announced. "Major Raikov does not like to be denied."

He shook his head, with a rueful laugh.

"Ocelot had better look out."

Borishnakov had managed to wriggle free of the commanders' smirking embrace, and made a break for it, fleet-foooted as Mercury himself.

Andrei pointed, nodding.

"Tak, look at that, chuvak. He's squirmy, that bastard. Charushkin and I had a bitch of a time with him. He was like a giant fucking tadpole."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian snorted. The whole thing was probably dreamed up but some drunken young soldiers who were bored and felt like being cruel.

Children who pulled the wings off of bugs and watched the following frantic spasms.

He just shook his head and sighed. The night was getting long, and the alcohol was burning off. He felt a little restless, and ready for some groping of his own.

Kassian looked sidelong at Isaev.

Another cheer rose up, breaking his concentration. Borishnakov was coming out for another pass, looking so determined Kassian could tell he wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. He just intended to run, and keep running, until the whole thing was over with.

He found his attention on the whole spectacle fading, and didn't even watch the outcome of Borishnakov's next face-off with Raikov.

Leaning into Isaev companionably, he murmured by the lieutenant's ear. "How much longer will it last, Isaev? What happens after this? If the night goes on too much longer, I'll probably fall asleep."

Kassian's mouth twitched.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"If this night goes on much longer I'll chew my own hand off and mail it to Chisinau," muttered Andrei, who was beginning to think Borishnakov was going to be trouble.

They didn't need a sullen contrarian.

Irinarhov, on the other hand, was certainly coming around to the idea of Ocelotude and brotherhood. Isaev found the hairs on the back of his neck a little stiffer than they were before the casual sussuration.

"This is the last ordeal," he said. "Then everyone goes their separate ways. Most to sleep, some to drink and fuck and fight."

He shrugged.

"You know where I'll be. Of course, how long the night goes on is up for negtiation," Andrei added enigmatically.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"Don't worry," Kassian said. "When I have something engaging to focus on, I can stay up a long time."

He paused, and looked at Isaev sidelong. "Stay awake, I meant, of course."

A cheer rose up from the crowd again, but he didn't look to see if it was in Raikov's favor, or Borishnakov's.

Even the packed throng bothered him less. He and Isaev could be the only ones in the room right now.

Except, of course, they weren't.

Not yet.

But the thought of it was enough to make his stomach tighten in anticipation. Idly and casually, the back of his hand grazed Isaev's hip but he cut off the errant gesture there, lest he stray elsewhere.

All in good time.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

In retrospect, it should have been obvious that the shirt was a trap, and Vladislav felt incredibly foolish for falling for it.

However, after he managed to get free of Raikov he was very sure not to get grabbed again.

Fear was a wonderful motivation for running faster, and with the alcohol in his system the remaining laps passed in a strange blur of uniforms and hallways.

He was incredibly embarrassed about what had happened on that one lap, grateful it had occurred where no one had been watching. Vladislav silently promised himself he would never reveal what had happened there.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"Thank god that's over. I didn't get drunk enough for this," remarked Andrei, rubbing his brow.

He glanced at Sergei and Matvei.

"Could you make sure he shows up for the morning jog, chuvaki? I'm sure he'll be tired."

He was ready to call it a night.

Judging from Vladislaus' weary but triumphant expression, the new recruit felt the same.

"Hope Raikov got his kicks," he added, straightening his beret as the crowd began to disperse.

Andrei turned to Irinarhov.

"You should go," he said, in a low voice. "I'll come calling once there's not so much...scrutiny, comrade."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian nodded. "I'll see you then, Isaev," he murmured.

His tone was casual but his look was anything but.

He met Isaev's gaze for only a moment, though, before he stepped back and faded into the crowd, just another Ocelot who'd had too much to drink making his way back to his barracks.

Strange. The night wasn't even over yet - his stomach fluttered at the thought - but after the day he'd had, he was already feeling like it was true.

Just another Ocelot.

[gurlukovich.livejournal.com]

The rest of the run had been almost tiring; Sergei had become worn out just watching it, and by the end he was so ready to sleep that he'd stopped worrying about Ocelot.

Despite that, he turned dutifully to face Isaev when he requested that they see that the new blood made it the next morning. Nodding, a tad drowsy, he turned to Matvei while covering his mouth with his hand as he yawned.

"Let's get to bed," he muttered, grabbing for his bunkmate's wrist as he headed for the doors that would take them out of the East Wing.