Weapons Practice

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian managed to keep his expression composed, though he was fairly sure that Isaev's seemingly-casual words were another innuendo.

Isaev was good at that.

Among other things.

He nodded, to Ocelot first, then Isaev. "That sounds good," he said, then saluted the Major briefly before taking his leave. Isaev followed.

As they walked to the north artillery range, boots crunching in the gravel, Kassian glanced at the young lieutenant sidelong. It had only been yesterday morning, when they'd been at the range, practicing. He recalled the way Isaev had watched him.

It felt like a lot of things had happened since then.

Sleep had barely been one of them.

Kassian wondered, briefly, if he was too old to be doing this. An affair with a hot-blooded young officer had not really been on his agenda when he'd arrived here not even two days ago.

Ill-advised, perhaps. Or even reckless. But part of him didn't care. There had been too few good things in a life whose canvas had been painted in blood and shrouded by loss.

This was a good thing, and Kassian felt willing to let himself enjoy it, until...

...

He let his mind skip over that part.

They arrived at the range and headed to the lanes. "All right," Kassian said as he looked down their lane, automatically judging the distance. "Before we start, you should know I'm not very good at this."

Comments

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

He blinked, but then shook his head slightly.

It was an odd concept, though he was struck by the offer.

His eyes searched Isaev's. He saw a new wariness in them that wasn't there before. A caution. Isaev was wondering how far he'd go. What he was capable of, maybe.

Kassian didn't fully know where his aggression had come from. Leftover things, talk of the past. Misplaced anger, perhaps.

Or maybe it was the implicit invitation in Isaev's words. The way he'd goaded Kassian.

It was as if he'd asked to see it. Like he'd given his permission.

Kassian's brows creased.

But perhaps...

...perhaps he'd gone too far. Acted too aggressively.

It had been somehow too easy.

But at the same time, he didn't feel he'd wronged Isaev. He didn't feel the need to apologize. It was just that there was something else between them now, some factor he couldn't calculate.

A sudden shift in the breeze that caused the shot to hit off center.

He drew in another breath, and then let it out. His heartbeat steadied.

Kassian still didn't know what this was between them - and it didn't help that it seemed to keep changing - but he found it compelling.

"Just...come here. I won't hurt you," he said, softly, though his gaze went to the bloodied mark on Isaev's lip. Evidence, he thought, that his words could be no more than lies.

He wondered he'd violated the trust between them.

"I won't," he repeated, even more quietly.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of what it does to me.

"I'm afraid of hurting you, Irinarhov. That we'll destroy each other for the sheer pleasure of it."

Andrei pressed into Irinarhov, seizing his jaw in a manacle grip.

"I've bled for you, now, comrade," he murmured in a low voice.

He placed his mouth over Irinarhov's, forcing his sullen lips apart.

Tasting copper.

His hand stole down to his waist and freed his survival knife with a casual motion.

"Do you trust me?"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian held Isaev's gaze with dark eyes, calm and unblinking.

His heart beat as steadily as it did when his finger closed on the trigger.

He found the casual brutality of Isaev's grasp actually comforting. Perhaps the constant give and take between them was no more than their mutual need to find equilibrium.

"Absolutely," he said, with a somber conviction.

His gaze edged down to Isaev's knife, but only for a moment.

He met the lieutenant's eyes once more, his gaze clear and direct.

Kassian stole his arm around Isaev's waist again, quietly possessive.

"This is what trust is, Isaev."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei paused.

"You're right," he said, after a moment.

He quietly slid the knife back into its sheath and moved his hand back to Irinarhov's shoulder.

He had intended to slice off a lock of the Captain's dark hair, for no reason he could justify, other than that it would be something to carry with him.

However, his sense came flooding back at Kassian's calm and sonorous voice.

His words, sincere.

No anger now. Had it ever been there?

Yes. The blood on his lip was proof of that.

But it had evaporated, somehow, leaving only Irinarhov's standard quiet intensity in its place. Returning to its subterranean well.

"So was I good pupil, Kassian Irinarhov?" Andrei asked, insouciantly, feeling the protective stricture of Irinarhov's arm coiled around him like a sated python.

It was pleasant, he thought. Manful and unquestioning, something he could relate to in a lover.

"Better than the last?' he said. "Or just better at pleasing my tutor?"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"Yes," Kassian said, thoughtfully. "Good pupils teach their instructors something, and I think I learned something today."

With his other hand, he touched Isaev's brow with the gentlest of fingertips.

He met Isaev's gaze squarely.

"I don't need anything from you other than what you can give me," he told Isaev.

Kassian spoke with all the gravity of a solemn oath sworn in the ancient stories, promises between brothers-in-arms, spouses, lovers.

He held Isaev's gaze for several beats, then ducked his head a little.

It had felt like something that needed to be said, given what had passed between them.

But once it was out, Kassian felt better. He gave a small, contented sigh and nodded, his hinted smile twitching.

"Maybe you can teach me how to be a better tutor, as well," he murmured, letting his hand drop away from Isaev's face to rest lightly against his chest. "I think the key to learning is listening. Not just to the instruction, but to...everything. Guns, people, yourself."

He let out a light snort, and shook his head. "More things you probably already know."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Isaev tilted his head, regarding Irinarhov for a moment.

"I learn things every day."

A pause, and he took hold of Kassian's scarf, pulling it idly from the neck of his field tunic and wrapping it slowly around his fist.

He tugged gently, pulling Irinarhov toward him, letting his lips hover near his ear.

"I learned some things last night, too."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian turned his head to let his lips brush against Isaev's, though he did not linger.

"Oh?" he murmured, wryly. "I'm sure that's an arena where you have much more experience than I do."

He shrugged after moment. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Kassian let his hand settle at the small of Isaev's back, savoring the warmth between them. It felt...right. Strange, given how little time had passed, but he wasn't going to fight it.

Slowly, his look turned more thoughtful. "And...tonight?" he asked, more solemn now than playful. "Will you come?"

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei surreptitiously eased his hand down Irinarhov's thigh, his thumb grazing the inside. It was a leisurely action, but loaded with intent.

"Try to keep me away," he said, in a low voice.

His lips twisted into a smile and his eyebrow raised exaggeratedly as Irinarhov's words sunk in.

"Are you calling me a whore, comrade?"

He laughed quietly.

"Or a degerate?"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian's eyes fluttered shut at Isaev's touch, but Kassian snorted lightly at his words.

"No," he said. "I'm not calling you that. I don't say things that mean something else."

He spread his hand wide against Isaev's tailbone, and drew him closer. "Believe me, comrade," he said, voice perfectly solemn and earnest. "I appreciate your experience. All of it."

Kassian opened his eyes to regard the lieutenant, mouth quirking.

"And if you didn't come, I think I'd have to find you."

He let his head lean back against the fence, and drew in a long, slow breath. This was something he could get used to, he thought, and knew he probably had already started.

His gaze drifted up to the darkening sky.

"Looks like a storm," he murmured.

He shivered, but not from the cold.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei laughed quietly.

"You're too smart to tease, Kassian Dmitrivich. Arguing semantics while I palm your goods."

He was right, though. The sky was darkening, and the clouds swelled overhead.

"Maybe we should get back...Although I suppose we'd be dry here."

The idea of misbehaving here in the lean-to of the range while the rain drummed down around them in torrents did appeal to his sense of aesthetic.

"We can go," he said. "If you promise, someday, to teach me something about what you do. Not just shooting, Kasya. Show me your specialty."

He paused, giving the Captain a dark smile.

"I'm speaking ballistically, of course."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"Shooting people in the head?" he asked, brow arching.

Kassian's look flashed equally dark, sharp and predatory, though only for a moment. Then it smoothed, tempered by ease and wryly-won humor. "I can do that, if you'll teach me about your specialty. Slitting throats."

His method of killing was distant, and necessarily detached, but he found the closeness of Isaev's work strangely alluring. Perhaps part of the appeal was that it was the opposite of what Kassian did.

Kassian had been trained in hand-to-hand, of course, but he had never taken to it. It had always seemed too...personal.

"But we don't have to go. Not right away," he said, letting his hand curve lower, to Isaev's muscular backside. "But there is one thing..."

His gaze dipped briefly, almost demure, before he met Isaev's eyes again. "I've always wanted..."

He trailed off, hesitating, but then he shook his head. Kassian leaned closer, lips brushing Isaev's ear. "Just...kiss me in the rain, comrade," he whispered, voice fervent. "So I know what it's like."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei smiled broadly.

"Slitting throats isn't what I do, Irinarhov. You must think I'm a cossack."

Of course, there were times when every one of them had. But of all the methods available, Isaev found it the most distasteful.

He leaned in, strong fingers cupping the rough lines of Irinarhov's jaw.

"No," he whispered, "Where I 've been at work, you won't see blood. Not a drop."

He breathed, softly, absorbing the closeness, the tension of holding himself away.

"I deal in weaponless handcraft," he murmured. "Every candle I've snuffed has been pinched by these fingers."

Andrei let his lips ease against Irinarhov's, closing his eyes.

"Not rope," he intoned, "and not blades."

His hand massaged the Captain's jaw and throat, urging him to part his mouth.

"My specialty," he breathed, "is cardiac arterial tamponade."

He felt the responsiveness of Irinarhov's body through his uniform, like a nuclear core dangerously close to implosion.

He shuddered, gratified enough to smile.

Andrei lifted his light eyes, not bothering to hide his youthful joie de vivre at the weather, at the moment.

"...But I think I can stop your heart another way, comrade. A sweeter way. Shall I try?"

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"Do it," he goaded.

Kassian had to admit that it aroused him to hear Isaev talk so casually about killing.

He pictured those broad hands curled around a man's throat, just as he held Kassian now. If Isaev chose, he could kill Kassian instead of touching him.

Another candle snuffed.

He wondered what was wrong with him, to find such stimulation in murder, but even as he considered it, he decided it didn't much matter.

If the army had turned him into a feral sociopath, then he supposed he was in good company.

For a moment, he speculated about the man against him. Isaev was young and cocky, though charming and clearly popular. But Kassian wondered how many of Isaev's comrades sensed the savagery behind eyes that were clear as water, and framed by tousled hair.

He tremored against Isaev's weight, under the touch of those assassin's fingers.

"Do it," he murmured, again. "You've got me, Isaev."

His body arched, muscles going taut. "Do what you will, comrade."

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"It's raining now," Isaev murmured.

He kissed the sniper, hard at first, bruisingly.

Then slowly, his grip relaxed and his mouth gentled in its caress.

Suddenly he felt a rare warmth toward Irinarhov, and a rare desire to let him know it.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

A particular slow sense of satisfaction settled over Kassian, as effortless and welcoming as sleep. He could not deny how significant Isaev had become to him, even in their short association. It was not something that happened to him often, but as Isaev's mouth grazed his own, he realized this was something he could get used to.

Maybe he already had.