Andrei stood quietly, listening. Irinarhov's voice was low and soothing, but not intentionally so. He was just speaking from experience, with thought, careful to get the words right.
His hands were warm and strangely uncallused, likely because he spent all his time waiting for a single shot, and not firing rounds all day. They had a lot of tensile strength, though narrow and artful, and not the workmanlike hands he would have expected from a gritty career field killer.
Artists' hands, Andrei thought, but it was fleeting, as he was engrossed in the Captain's words. His voice was almost mesmerizing. Isaev was beginning to feel very warm and relaxed, and his lips lost all their tension.
His concern over his slip of the tongue seemed irrelevant now, in this state of tranquility.
As Irinarhov touched his palm, he shivered, and didn't restrain the response. The Captain's words were erotic, no question, his voice and the slow, deliberate caress of his hands more so still.
But Irinarhov wasn't trying to stir his blood, he was trying to teach him something. Andrei willfully focused on the pleasant sensations and ignored the steady pulse of chemistry, twitching between them like an underground river.
It all made sense until the end.
Andrei frowned, but kept his eyes closed. He was very aware of a slight silence after the Captain's last words. He felt Irinarhov's finger tracing figures against the sensitive underside of his thumb.
"I don't think I know what you mean, comrade," Isaev said, hesitantly, with a slight smile. "By making love."
Had he been soft with comrades? Of course...but sex was sex. No matter how much affection there was after the fact. Khui, even if you kissed a comrade, even if you kissed him when you were done and you didn't have to. Or...what? The closest thing he could think of, was that time when Ilya was ripping drunk. He'd whispered words Isaev knew he hadn't meant while they lay in a bunk together, lips pressed against Andrei's cheek, stroking his hair with absent fingers.
That had felt...different.
But Ilya had been out of his gourd, and Andrei doubted he remembered a moment of it.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-12-06 04:54 am (UTC)His hands were warm and strangely uncallused, likely because he spent all his time waiting for a single shot, and not firing rounds all day. They had a lot of tensile strength, though narrow and artful, and not the workmanlike hands he would have expected from a gritty career field killer.
Artists' hands, Andrei thought, but it was fleeting, as he was engrossed in the Captain's words. His voice was almost mesmerizing. Isaev was beginning to feel very warm and relaxed, and his lips lost all their tension.
His concern over his slip of the tongue seemed irrelevant now, in this state of tranquility.
As Irinarhov touched his palm, he shivered, and didn't restrain the response. The Captain's words were erotic, no question, his voice and the slow, deliberate caress of his hands more so still.
But Irinarhov wasn't trying to stir his blood, he was trying to teach him something. Andrei willfully focused on the pleasant sensations and ignored the steady pulse of chemistry, twitching between them like an underground river.
It all made sense until the end.
Andrei frowned, but kept his eyes closed. He was very aware of a slight silence after the Captain's last words. He felt Irinarhov's finger tracing figures against the sensitive underside of his thumb.
"I don't think I know what you mean, comrade," Isaev said, hesitantly, with a slight smile. "By making love."
Had he been soft with comrades? Of course...but sex was sex. No matter how much affection there was after the fact. Khui, even if you kissed a comrade, even if you kissed him when you were done and you didn't have to. Or...what? The closest thing he could think of, was that time when Ilya was ripping drunk. He'd whispered words Isaev knew he hadn't meant while they lay in a bunk together, lips pressed against Andrei's cheek, stroking his hair with absent fingers.
That had felt...different.
But Ilya had been out of his gourd, and Andrei doubted he remembered a moment of it.
"I don't think I have."