AUTHOR'S NOTE: Uhm . . . considering how I feel when I look at my girlfriend sometimes . . . most of the time, it really isn't surprising that I wrote this. More to come with Guido. wink WARNING! It may make you blush!

Husky Russkie

Piotr turned over for what seemed to be the six . . . hundredth time. Although the mansion was always cool on summer nights, his room, his bed, HE was burning up. There was a certain tension in the air; one of those nights when it seems like everyone needs SOMETHING, and Piotr was feeling very . . . needy.
The muscled wonder rolled over once more and gave a sigh, deep and rumbling, from his chest. The muscles heaved with his hitched breathing; he'd never felt quite so . . . needy. WELL, maybe NEVER, but pretty darn close.
A fan was blowing air through his thick, wavy, black hair, but the breeze did little to calm the heat radiating from his stomach. Not even when he tossed off the blankets, when he threw off his pants, when he was stripped to his boxer-shorts did he cool off. Face red with this heat, Piotr sat up in bed.
"Perhaps . . . no . . ." he groaned and fell back, grimacing slightly with thought. "No . . . Katya is away . . . I feel so very . . .ahk!" He looked to the ceiling in his aggravation. The muscles in his stomach were growing taut as he fought the heat that was building within them. He tossed over, onto his side, letting the fan's air hit him full on in the face.
"Bozhe MOI! I cannot think"
The truth, however, was that he could not think about anything ELSE but Kitty. He imagined what she would do if he were to go to her like this, like some fawning school boy. Red faced, hot, feeling stranger than he had in a very long time. She would probably hug him, tell him she loved him . . . then: Well the rest was left to Piotr's wandering imagination. Ten minutes later, he was pulled from his man trance by the heat pooling in his lower belly. If he didn't do something about this soon it was going to handle itself, and not in the cleanest of ways.
He slid off the bed and put his pajama pants back on. It was late, but he was sure someone was up. Perhaps his comrade, Bobby Drake, would know what to do.

At the rap on his door, Bobby rose from his seat on the bed and dropped his swimsuit magazine on the floor. He rubbed an eye with one hand. It wasn't that he was tired so much as he was bored. Drake needed some action, and half welcomed the company, even if the hour was ungodly.
The figure who filled the doorway looked like he'd just run a seven mile marathon. Piotr's face was so flushed he looked almost as red as Jean's hair. At the sight of him, Bobby smiled, half heartedly.
"Hey Petey . . . whatsup? You hot 'er somethin'? I got a few cold ones if you want one"
"No. I . . . appreciate your . . . offer for a 'cold one'," Piotr answered stiffly (literally), "but I haff come to ask if you . . . could help"
"Whoa now, big fella," Bobby said, suddenly catching Piotr's train of thought. However, Bobby's train was on the wrong side of the track. "If you've got a 'problem' with . . ." Bobby gave him a look, "you know, I'm not like that, man"
"NYET!" Piotr shrieked. "I haff come to ask if you would let me . . . borrow something that might help"
"Why didn't you say so?" Bobby asked, "I got all sorts of stuff like that. Logan's borrowing my Asian Girls Gone Wild DVD set, but I think I can still fix you up all right."

Piotr returned to his room feeling a little less hopeless but a lot . . . tenser in many respects. He laid back on the bed and flipped open the magazine, which fell immediately open to a centerfold. The woman within was, well, nude with s slight frame, much like his Katya's. Her hair was even the same shade of brown, with little tunnel curls. Piotr gave a shuttering sigh and hoped Bobby didn't mind him keeping this one for a while.