Swallowed Tears by SilverHawk
Part 2
Rating: R...ah hell, NC-17 because it's got Jude...so expect m/m, f/m...you have been warned
Characters: Vasilli (Jude Law)/Danilov (Joseph Fiennes), also Mikhail (based on JRM)
Spoilers: Only if you haven't seen Enemy at the Gates
Just a note: ~ means memories
--------------
Vasilli waited patiently for Tania as she got ready. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing his tie was crooked. Tying it again and again, he tried to make it perfect but to no avial.
~ "Your tie is crooked," Danilov said. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you how to do it properly?"
"I watch sheep," Vasilli replied. "I had no need for ties."
"Well, you cannot go see Stalin looking like that," Danilov said, reaching over to redo it. Vasilli's heart skipped a beat as they stood so close together.
"I can do it myself," Vasilli said, pulling away. His hands fumbled, making a messy knot.
"This is ridiculous," Danilov grabbed the tie, pulling him closer. His breath burned Vasilli's skin, causing him to shudder. Like a child, he watched Danilov's graceful fingers skillfully retying it. Brushing away some lint on Vasilli's uniform, touching the side of his neck, tingling Vasilli's skin. Vasilli shut his eyes and exhaled slowly.
"Do you love her?" Danilov quietly said. ~
Being pushed forward, a group of people combed Vasilli's hair, adjusted his shirt, reminding him to shake Stalin's hand. Someone else shoved him a piece of paper. His acceptance speech. And then he was thrown forward into the bright glare of the lights and millions of staring people.
As if in a daze, he watched as they whipped open a curtain, revealing his rifle encased in glass. Propped up in velvet. Shiny and polished as if no blood was ever spilled.
He felt numb as Stalin embraced him, kissing both sides of his face. Proclaiming him a national treasure. Pride of the Motherland. Glowing example of a good Communist. Pushing him towards the microphone, Vasilli absently read the words written before him.
And then it was over.
Meeting up with Tania, he said, "I'll be home later. The troops want to celebrate."
Kissing him, she smiled seductively, "Don't be long because we'll have a little celebration of our own."
Heading into the night, Vasilli did not go in the direction of the army base but to a tavern. Sitting down at an empty table, he ordered a vodka. He shut his eyes, pressing his fingertips at the temples of his forehead, rubbing them, trying to forget the evenings events.
Drinking his vodka, he looked around. The tavern was empty except for a slim young man on the other side of the room. His wavy brown hair was shoulder length, shielding his pale gaunt face as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Brushing his hair back, he lifted the cigarette box to his lips, pulling out one. Tossing the box down on the table, he searched for a lighter.
Vasilli walked over, flicked on his lighter. The young man looked up, the flame causing his deep brown eyes to glow. He bent forward, cupping his slender hands around the flame, lighting his cigarette. Vasilli reached for his own, but the man put his hand on top of his, preventing him from doing so. With his other hand, he removed his cigarette from his pouty lips, placing it into Vasilli's. His hand never releasing him.
---------
Vasilli stood in the middle of a small apartment. The paint on the walls were flaking off and there was a pile of dirty dishes piled at the kitchen sink.
The young man clicked on a light, enveloping the room in a warm glow. Swinging his small hips, he removed his coat, flinging it onto the floor. He turned towards Vasilli, walking around him until they met face to face. He crossed his thin arms and narrowed his eyes.
"For someone who's the national treasure, you could at least have the common courtesy to remove your coat," he said.
"I told you to never turn on the light, Mikhail," Vasilli replied coldly.
Pushing Vasilli against the wall, Mikhail reached over and flicked off the switch.
"Done," he said.
Mikhail unzipped Vasilli's coat, sliding it off, letting it fall precariously to the ground. Brushing the tips of his fingers against Vasilli's cheek, Mikhail kissed him on the lips, moving down to his neck, sliding down his body. Vasilli tangled his fingers into Mikhail's brown locks, kissing them, breathing in his scent. Tearing off his tie, unbuttoning Vasilli's shirt, it slid off his thin shoulders. Mikhail kissed his chest, tracing his tongue on each nipple, working down to his navel. Fingers fumbling in the dark, unzipping Vasilli's trousers, letting them fall, Mikhail knelt before him and looked up, chocolate locked to blue. The fallen angel praying to Adonis. Vasilli watched with quickened breaths as Mikhail removed his own shirt, undoing his pants. Mikhail kissed Vasilli's thighs, moving his tongue down the length of his shaft, causing him to grab at Mikhail's hair.
They fell to the ground, a jumbled heap on the cold linoleum floor. Clothes long gone. Their angular hips grinding against each other. Thin knees scraped the floor. Vasilli pushed Mikhail down, pinning his shoulders to the ground, kissing and sucking the pliant white skin. His pale legs straddled Mikhail's narrow hips, capturing him, preventing him from escaping. Mikhail writhed beneath him while pulling at Vasilli's hair, pressing his body against him. Vasilli kissed Mikhail's penis, feeling it grow hard as his did as well. He felt him shudder beneath him, heard him moan as he gripped his shoulders.
Vasilli lifted himself up, laying himself on top of Mikhail, pinning his arms above him, nibbling on his nipples. Mikhail groaned, arching his back, dark wet strands of hair plastered along his snow white face. Hips bucking out of his control, Mikhail tossed his head from side to side, whispering "Mercy".
"I don't want you to whisper," Vasilli breathed into Mikhail's ear. Licking it, he continued, "I want to hear you scream."
Flinging him over, Vasilli slid his hardened cock inside him. Mikhail reached for a nearby chair leg, grabbing it, Gripping it. His knuckles going white as Vasilli pushed harder. Beads of sweat ran down his back, their skin shining in the dark. The tiny muscles of their bodies tensed and hardened. Breathing in short gasps, Mikhail let out a blood chortling scream as Vasilli drove harder, until his semen spilled forward, wetting them both.
Exhausted, he fell against Mikhail. Their slippery bodies causing them to slide away. Two thin white bodies lay dozing on the cold linoleum floor.
As Vasilli shut his eyes, he saw Danilov sitting on the chair near them. Watching them. Watching him. Betrayal flashed across his eyes.
"Why?" Vasilli heard him say before he fell asleep.
Part 2
Rating: R...ah hell, NC-17 because it's got Jude...so expect m/m, f/m...you have been warned
Characters: Vasilli (Jude Law)/Danilov (Joseph Fiennes), also Mikhail (based on JRM)
Spoilers: Only if you haven't seen Enemy at the Gates
Just a note: ~ means memories
--------------
Vasilli waited patiently for Tania as she got ready. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing his tie was crooked. Tying it again and again, he tried to make it perfect but to no avial.
~ "Your tie is crooked," Danilov said. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you how to do it properly?"
"I watch sheep," Vasilli replied. "I had no need for ties."
"Well, you cannot go see Stalin looking like that," Danilov said, reaching over to redo it. Vasilli's heart skipped a beat as they stood so close together.
"I can do it myself," Vasilli said, pulling away. His hands fumbled, making a messy knot.
"This is ridiculous," Danilov grabbed the tie, pulling him closer. His breath burned Vasilli's skin, causing him to shudder. Like a child, he watched Danilov's graceful fingers skillfully retying it. Brushing away some lint on Vasilli's uniform, touching the side of his neck, tingling Vasilli's skin. Vasilli shut his eyes and exhaled slowly.
"Do you love her?" Danilov quietly said. ~
Being pushed forward, a group of people combed Vasilli's hair, adjusted his shirt, reminding him to shake Stalin's hand. Someone else shoved him a piece of paper. His acceptance speech. And then he was thrown forward into the bright glare of the lights and millions of staring people.
As if in a daze, he watched as they whipped open a curtain, revealing his rifle encased in glass. Propped up in velvet. Shiny and polished as if no blood was ever spilled.
He felt numb as Stalin embraced him, kissing both sides of his face. Proclaiming him a national treasure. Pride of the Motherland. Glowing example of a good Communist. Pushing him towards the microphone, Vasilli absently read the words written before him.
And then it was over.
Meeting up with Tania, he said, "I'll be home later. The troops want to celebrate."
Kissing him, she smiled seductively, "Don't be long because we'll have a little celebration of our own."
Heading into the night, Vasilli did not go in the direction of the army base but to a tavern. Sitting down at an empty table, he ordered a vodka. He shut his eyes, pressing his fingertips at the temples of his forehead, rubbing them, trying to forget the evenings events.
Drinking his vodka, he looked around. The tavern was empty except for a slim young man on the other side of the room. His wavy brown hair was shoulder length, shielding his pale gaunt face as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Brushing his hair back, he lifted the cigarette box to his lips, pulling out one. Tossing the box down on the table, he searched for a lighter.
Vasilli walked over, flicked on his lighter. The young man looked up, the flame causing his deep brown eyes to glow. He bent forward, cupping his slender hands around the flame, lighting his cigarette. Vasilli reached for his own, but the man put his hand on top of his, preventing him from doing so. With his other hand, he removed his cigarette from his pouty lips, placing it into Vasilli's. His hand never releasing him.
---------
Vasilli stood in the middle of a small apartment. The paint on the walls were flaking off and there was a pile of dirty dishes piled at the kitchen sink.
The young man clicked on a light, enveloping the room in a warm glow. Swinging his small hips, he removed his coat, flinging it onto the floor. He turned towards Vasilli, walking around him until they met face to face. He crossed his thin arms and narrowed his eyes.
"For someone who's the national treasure, you could at least have the common courtesy to remove your coat," he said.
"I told you to never turn on the light, Mikhail," Vasilli replied coldly.
Pushing Vasilli against the wall, Mikhail reached over and flicked off the switch.
"Done," he said.
Mikhail unzipped Vasilli's coat, sliding it off, letting it fall precariously to the ground. Brushing the tips of his fingers against Vasilli's cheek, Mikhail kissed him on the lips, moving down to his neck, sliding down his body. Vasilli tangled his fingers into Mikhail's brown locks, kissing them, breathing in his scent. Tearing off his tie, unbuttoning Vasilli's shirt, it slid off his thin shoulders. Mikhail kissed his chest, tracing his tongue on each nipple, working down to his navel. Fingers fumbling in the dark, unzipping Vasilli's trousers, letting them fall, Mikhail knelt before him and looked up, chocolate locked to blue. The fallen angel praying to Adonis. Vasilli watched with quickened breaths as Mikhail removed his own shirt, undoing his pants. Mikhail kissed Vasilli's thighs, moving his tongue down the length of his shaft, causing him to grab at Mikhail's hair.
They fell to the ground, a jumbled heap on the cold linoleum floor. Clothes long gone. Their angular hips grinding against each other. Thin knees scraped the floor. Vasilli pushed Mikhail down, pinning his shoulders to the ground, kissing and sucking the pliant white skin. His pale legs straddled Mikhail's narrow hips, capturing him, preventing him from escaping. Mikhail writhed beneath him while pulling at Vasilli's hair, pressing his body against him. Vasilli kissed Mikhail's penis, feeling it grow hard as his did as well. He felt him shudder beneath him, heard him moan as he gripped his shoulders.
Vasilli lifted himself up, laying himself on top of Mikhail, pinning his arms above him, nibbling on his nipples. Mikhail groaned, arching his back, dark wet strands of hair plastered along his snow white face. Hips bucking out of his control, Mikhail tossed his head from side to side, whispering "Mercy".
"I don't want you to whisper," Vasilli breathed into Mikhail's ear. Licking it, he continued, "I want to hear you scream."
Flinging him over, Vasilli slid his hardened cock inside him. Mikhail reached for a nearby chair leg, grabbing it, Gripping it. His knuckles going white as Vasilli pushed harder. Beads of sweat ran down his back, their skin shining in the dark. The tiny muscles of their bodies tensed and hardened. Breathing in short gasps, Mikhail let out a blood chortling scream as Vasilli drove harder, until his semen spilled forward, wetting them both.
Exhausted, he fell against Mikhail. Their slippery bodies causing them to slide away. Two thin white bodies lay dozing on the cold linoleum floor.
As Vasilli shut his eyes, he saw Danilov sitting on the chair near them. Watching them. Watching him. Betrayal flashed across his eyes.
"Why?" Vasilli heard him say before he fell asleep.