Sky Miles
NOTES:Some Russian words and phrases:
Нет: no
Да: yes
мой небольшой Барсук: MylittleBadger
Барсук: Badger (closest pronunciation: Barsukh)
The Croatian customs official looked up at the young, back pack toting, tawny haired man. American she thought. Who else would wear torn Levis and a ball cap backwards while entering a foreign country? Reading her ire, his hazel hued right eye flashed in silent irritation. She smiled to make amends noting that the man's left eye was partly swollen shut. He'd obviously been in a physical altercation recently. 'Figures,' she thought, 'the brutes.'
"Reason for visit, Mr. Salem?"
He surprised her by politely replying in good Shtokavian. He was staying for one month, visiting a friend. She completed her survey, stamped his passport and called for the next customer.
Salem headed for the exit. As soon as he was outside, he stepped away from the throng of chatty travelers and hunkered down into his heavy parka. He fumbled for his phone and dialed a familiar number, sniffling while it rang.
"Come on old bear. I know it's fucking late, but just answer."
"Барсук?" A sleepy man replied incredulously.
"Yea."
"Where are you?"
"Airport, Osijek." Salem responded tersely, turning away as a stiff, frigid wind swirled a cloud of snow up into the alcove that he'd commandeered. "Can you come, or should I get a car? Not much for driving on ice."
"Нет, one hour, stay put."
While he drove, Vasily Tyannikov tried to puzzle out why Salem had flown 5300 miles without checking to see if he'd even be home. Whatever had caused the strange exodus must have been critical. At the airport, he maneuvered to the arrivals area and surveyed it for Salem. He finally saw him mid-way along the snow flurry shrouded building, pressed against the wall trying to stay out of the wind. When traffic halted, Tyannikov tooted the Range Rover's horn to get his attention. As Salem slid into the big, warm truck, Vasily scolded him.
"It's freezing, Барсук! Why outside? Terminal is warm."
"Terminal has people. It's nice to see you too, drive."
Vasily watched Salem place another log onto the fire in his huge Granite hearth and ran his right hand back through his thick black hair. The thirty-eight year old had loved and lost early in his troubled life, vehemently swearing off ever opening his heart to another. Then, while working as a private military contractor in Somalia, he met a twenty-one year old Army Ranger Elliot Salem. The black bitterness filling his heart evaporated and the brash Ranger slipped into the vacuum. So, for over a decade, he'd loved Elliot unconditionally even though he'd never fully reciprocated Vasily's love.
"That my drink, Old Bear?"
"Да."
Salem took the Bourbon, plopped down onto the leather sofa and Vasily joined him. Finally, Salem sighed, set his glass on the timber wrought coffee table and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. He wrapped his hands behind his neck and rocked slowly.
"What troubles мой небольшой барсук?"
"I need…"
Then, he sat quickly upright, grasped Vasily's lightly bearded face in his hands and pressed his lips clumsily against the stunned man's before retreating.
"Easy Барсук."
"Жаль."
"Жаль, Sorry? I am not."
Ten minutes of kissing later, they lay sprawled out naked on the thick carpet in front of the fire. When Vasily pushed ahead a bit Salem stopped him.
"Just kiss me." He growled, "Never kissed before. You taste like Bourbon and mint, just kiss me, Sily. I like it"
Vasily laughed and the deep baritone swelled Salem's heart.
"Silly Барсук. You fly 5500 miles just to kiss!"
Vasily settled over Salem on his elbows holding his face in his hands. He kissed his eyes and the bridge of his nose, and then sucked greedily yet tenderly on his lower lip before plunging his tongue into Salem's virgin mouth. He chased figure eights round Salem's taut tongue before finally, fucking it sensuously between his pursed lips.
Salem matched his rhythm, arching upward trying to get deeper into the big man's mouth. Vasily reached a hand toward Salem's cock and he shook his head no. Then, he rolled them over and attacked Tyannikov's mouth with unbridled desperation, wrapping his swollen lips around Vasily's stiff tongue and sucking it into his mouth as deeply as he could. His hands clutched painfully at the older man's hair, but Vasily ignored it.
Vasily was overwhelmed. His lonely twelve year wait was over. Then, Salem knelt and straddled his chest, bobbing up and down, greedily sucking his tongue and lips. He could feel Salem's hot, slick cock thumping against his sternum. He'd never orgasmed without being directly touched before, but he was about to. He grasped Elliot's head, taking control tongue fucking the smaller man's mouth. Salem countered, regained it and doubled down his thrusting. Vasily was close and knew Salem had to be too. Finally, desperate for release, Vasily took over, drove his lips as far down Salem's tongue as possible and then, with a long deliberate stroke slid back off of it sucking as hard as he could, while encircling it with his own. They finished together collapsing in a quivering heap.
"Never kissed before, Барсук? Why?"
Salem buried his face under Vasily's stubbled chin and shrugged, "Never found anyone I loved enough, I guess."
WORD COUNT:869