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[personal profile] leshovik
The second time they fucked, the kid had looked up at him afterward with those dusky eyes, and craned his neck for a kiss.

“My name is Kirill,” he whispered against Leshovik’s lips.

“Christ, kid, don’t tell me things like that.”

Leshovik rolled off and glared at the ceiling. He wanted a cigarette, badly, right then.

“Why not?”

The kid shifted, and crawled close to lean up against Leshovik’s chest, one hand moving to brush across Leshovik’s nipple.

That felt good.

“Because…” Leshovik frowned, and had to gather his thoughts. “…because we’re not supposed to know each other’s names. We’re dead men. Ghosts. That’s the nature of black ops.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the kid said, toying idly, fingertips teasing nubbed flesh to hardness. After a few moments, the kid shifted, pressing closer, resting his head in the crook of Leshovik’s arm. “I only have one name anyway. Guess wasn’t really alive before.”

Leshovik frowned. “What? What does that mean?”

“I’m an orphan,” the kid said. “My parents died during the war. I was a ward of the state. You know.”

“Oh.”

Leshovik supposed he did. There had been a lot of orphans, back then. “How old are you, anyway? Wait. Don’t answer.”

“Seventeen.”

“Oh, Christ. I told you not to – ”

Leshovik broke off, wincing. He’d known the kid was young, but thought him to be at least…twenty-two. Twenty. When Leshovik was seventeen, he was still going to school. Hadn’t even picked up a gun yet. Nowhere near being a sniper in a black ops squad, fucking a guy nearly twice his age.

Christ, was that what kids these days were doing? He was pretty sure there was a law. Not that laws applied to them, anyway.

The kid nuzzled his lips into Leshovik’s skin. “Oh, it’s all right, I never knew my parents.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The kid laughed then.

“What did you mean? You don’t think you’re the first guy I’ve ever fucked, do you?”

Leshovik stared.

The kid looked up at him, propping a hand under his chin, mouth curving upward faintly. His eyes were like chips of ebony burnished to a high gloss, gleaming, but steady.

Leshovik scowled. “Why would I care – ”

“You’re just the nicest,” the kid interrupted, then grinned, and leaned up to kiss him.

Leshovik let him, for a few moments, but then broke it off. “Listen, kid – ”

“Kirill.”

“I said, fucking stop that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Leshovik ground his teeth. “Look, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that.”

“What’s your name?” the kid asked. He leaned closer, said it in Leshovik’s ear.

“You know what my name is,” he growled.

“Your real name.”

Leshovik pushed him away. “Listen, I don’t know what you think this is, but it’s not…it’s…it’s for convenience. It’s because we’re going to be heading to Christ fuck knows where, out in no man’s land for days, weeks at a time, and I want to fucking get laid on a regular basis, and you happen to be someone I wouldn’t mind fucking. But that’s all this is. It’s not a romance, kid. I’m not going to love you, got it? That’s not how life works. It’s not real. All this is about is getting off, so if you can’t handle that…”

He trailed off.

The kid was looking at him, eyes like bullet wounds, huge and dark. He sat there, shoulders hunched, not moving, but staring at Leshovik with a gaze that made the years snap back to another time, and another man, similarly dark-haired and dolorous.

“You know what’s funny?” the kid asked, quietly. “I still think you’re the nicest.”

Leshovik felt something inside him twinge hard, and he had to look away.

“Look,” he said after a moment, and his voice sounded strange. “I didn’t mean to…I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say those things. I just got…I was thinking about…”

Leshovik shrugged, inarticulately.

“And…I didn’t mean to yell. You seem like a nice kid. You don’t deserve that. I just…”

He looked back at the kid, who wasn’t looking at him anymore, instead staring off, gaze boring into the wall as if he could make it crumble, just by glaring.

That made Leshovik twinge, too.

“Hey,” he told the kid, and reached out to touch his jaw.

The kid yanked his head away.

“Hey. Listen to me.”

Leshovik reached out to the kid, again, and cupped his jaw firmly. This time the kid didn’t try to pull away as Leshovik tilted his face back around so he could meet the kid’s eyes.

“My name’s Viktor, all right?” Leshovik said.

The kid frowned. He searched Leshovik’s gaze, brows furrowed and sharp, still glaring, but now intent, watching Leshovik like a wary bird of prey with half-furled wings, poised on the brink of flight.

Leshovik slid his hand to the back of the kid’s neck, let his fingers stroke sweat-dampened skin. “But…that’s just between you and me, okay?”

After a moment, the kid nodded, one side of his mouth twitching.

Leshovik’s chest cramped.

He leaned forward to kiss the kid, lips moving slowly, thoroughly, but with growing hunger, feeling the kid’s sullen mouth give, and then yield against his. The kid brought his hand up to tighten in Leshovik’s close-cropped hair, and suddenly it was like the years no longer mattered, and he had a second chance.

November 2009

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