Soaking wet, Piers crossed the lobby, stepped up, and tapped the elevator key with his forefinger and middle finger glued to one another. Calloused pads embracing the touch, tapping his foot impatiently. Luka hadn't had the pleasure of ever seeing Piers look in the slightest bit nervous, however it seemed now that there was a clear difference since uttering the words that had brought the taller Soviet within the confines of his home. There had been moments where he had seen the tell tale signs of unease in the sniper's hands, but nervous was a single attribute that this man, no matter the situation seemed to maintain complete control over. No matter the situation; Piers controlled his environment using all the gifts supplied to him when in the field, and at times, even off. And yet, he couldn't control the speed that the elevator plummeted at, or the tension that had settled between their bodies from the walk here. Certainly it would have been easier for them to bypass the elevator all together, and judging by the set of keys in his hand that he continued to swing in perfect circles about one of his fingers, he would have if given the chance. Courtesy, something the Russian had once debated, thriving in this man had raised its ugly head. Drips tumbled to the ground at their feet, waiting for the singular metal box to descend upon them, pooling water the longer they waited, in a trail as Piers' shifted from foot to foot, pacing the front of their transport. A few spare drops had formed from the longer strands of brunette hair, out of place from the pouring rain. Hazel eyes watching them slide down in front of golden orbs before taking their final journey to the veined floors beneath their feet, ignoring them with a brush of his forearm across his forehead, shoving the strands away and smearing water off onto leather.

The lobby, if you could call it that, of this establishment, wasn't all that fancy. It was simple, with a barred front door and an elevator just inside along with its accompanying stairs. A building built in the earlier years and had not been cared for in some time, by its tenants or land owner; though it still had a classic charm about its rough interior. Either the sniper spent little time here, or he simply didn't care where he lived; because it was clear he could have had a better place easily. Piers' position as an assistant team leader, for the leading Bioterrorist Resistance organization afforded him that much at least. There was a clear line that Piers refused to cross with his job and his personality. Simple tastes for a simple man. Luka hadn't even seen anything but this landing, but it was clear by the refusal to greet his icy eyes with his own warm ones, that Piers was taking no notice of his comrade's observation skills. Boot marks filled the lobby floor. The high heeled mark of a woman's shoe, as well as the smudge marks from other patrons, speaking volumes of the traffic that came through. At least a variety of fifteen from the passed few minutes of rain alone judging by the marks alone. If the Russian had to venture a guess along the lines as to why Piers had an apartment downtown rather than a place of his own, his first guess would be, that he never came home. He knew otherwise though, since each night after training, or morning that was, at about two. The sniper would leave for the remaining hours of the rising sun, not to be seen again for another four. A place to sleep.

He wanted to stop analyzing, however his subject of affection was doing enough vexation for the both of them. For the first time in a very long while, Luka was not in the least bit interested in analyzing the youthful soldier before him, stilled as a statue finally as his instincts overcame distress. All except those silver keys which caught the light upon every rotation, spinning. The soft mellow ping heralded the arrival of their elevator, alerting them both from their thoughts. Piers pushing himself sideways to slip through opening doors; hit the top floor button, leaning on the back wall, with his weight rested in his hands pinned behind him on the rail. The blond joined him in the same fashion only slower, tempering Piers anxiety with his own calm. Pulling free of his jacket and resting it in the crevice of his elbow, the Russian revealed the soaked through shirt he wore in the fashion as a man who knew his physique for a well made body. It was a black shirt that hugged every contour, of every muscle of that body, built with broad shoulders and a slim tapering waistline.

There was silence. The kind of soap opera, waiting to be kissed in an elevator kind. The kind that instantly gave reason for color to rise to Piers' immaculate features; looking away to the steel wall beside him in an effort to let the effects of the proximity to go unnoticed. Shoving fingers through rain soaked locks to push them back, clenching his eyes shut; Piers could hear his blood in his ears, . It felt so wrong, and completely awkward being the person to think this way. As far as all was concerned, Piers had never been that person. The wait for me type, that prolonged everything until the tension was enough you could cut it with the knife that the commie hid in the small of his back. The kind where it broke as soon as the doors shut and they would be completely filthy with one another here in this elevator before ever even reaching the apartment. He was already involved with Chris though. Involved on a very graphic, very possessive manner. A jerk as much as he might be, and not entirely always forth coming about their relationship, or in fact never so, but Piers wasn't that guy. He didn't need someone to stroke his ego, or his... He had someone, even if that someone put him face down in the pillows and told him to not make a sound. "You should go." The words slipped out without warning, staring at the ground under his feet that had accumulated a puddle of water, where Luka stared upward at the ceiling in complete control over himself, not stirred by the comment. "I appreciate you walking with me and all Lucky, but.. well we both know where this is going, and it can't."

"I understand, Printsessa."

"What?" The baritone joined him, without looking away from the ceiling panels that covered the elevator as it whirred ever impending up the shaft, the sound jerking Piers from his thoughts. He hadn't expected him to agree. He wasn't even sure he wanted him to. It was partly disappointing, to think he was that easily deterred. It felt good having someone fight for you, knowing that for once someone wasn't willing to give in when he put on his soldier tone and spouted off an order. There was something about Luka, the same thing he had once seen in the captain who now presided over him. Even though they were playing this dance together, it had been cat and mouse since the beginning. It was clear to anyone raised with a military background that Luka wasn't here merely for the gathering of information for his country. If that were so, he would have been investigating multiple units, not a single one. He was looking for soldiers. And Luka knew, just as well Piers, he wasn't going to get a sniper like this one to leave Alpha team. It was the placement of each next step in the tango, leading each other with each new step. Still, it had been fun. Seeing how far Luka would go for him, where others would run and hide from a man like Piers Nivans. He wasn't feminine. Not by any means. He was a handful more than all the time and an A.T.L. to envy, with a career to look forward to with his ability as a marksman and command for leadership. Yet this man had made the sole decision that Piers was some how in need of someone who would, what? Dominate him? He had Chris. It was all he needed. Swallowing the growing lump in his throat; Piers nodded uncomfortably. It was better off to be alone tonight. Luka made him feel... uncomfortable at the best of times, and Chris would never understand, or forgive him for such a thing. Not with his penchant for violence whenever someone got all little too friendly with his sniper in the past. The key word being his. "You can come in. I'll call you a cab."

Neck craned up, staring that way at the ceiling, unblinking, showed a strong profile in the hideous ambient lighting of the elevator. Smooth milky white flesh that naturally glistened from the rain, finally shifting when the floors pinged slower; machines and cogs hidden whirred slowly to a halt. Piers exhaled at last, giving a short lived smirk that seemed to fade before it arrived. "Come on, I'll make you a coffee while you wait." Grinding to motionlessness, the doors of the elevator slid side by side until the portal relinquished them. Piers gave that all too subtle nod of the head, to offer Luka to follow, but it was cut off when the captain slipped before the shorter of the two. He couldn't help the bemusement on youthful features that lit his features. Steps, longer and quicker than Piers' own took to lead the sniper, even in his own residence It took a jog step to every one of those longer muscled legs stride to keep beside him. Stopping beside a door that Luka had passed over and giving a tenor chuckle. Piers gave a nod to it, pushing the jagged key into the tumbler, hearing it turn in the lock. "This is me."

The door swung back with a single push, hearing the door stopper block the impact as hallway light flooded the room, casting a white triangle against the wall. Stepping inside the dark of the threshold, a toss of keys in the dark, landing in a bowl on a side table that rested to his right was the greeting to the apartment. Singing testament into the sniper's knowledge of his home, even in the darkness, Piers pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and repeated the motion. The heavy door clicked shut behind him as he moved further into the entryway, the deadbolt sliding into place as Luka flicked the lock vertical. Piers jacket followed the keys, writhing out of its clinging wetness by letting it fall halfway down both arms; until he felt it dragged off his shoulders in a single yank. Slimmer body thrown against the wall with full momentum as the leather fell, disregarded someplace in the room; military instincts instantly took hold as his reflexes sharpened with his gaze. The sudden violent collision sent both men stumbling and clambering for balance, Piers' fingers snaring a wrist as he gained wrist control and pulled it up behind the frame in a standard hammerlock as if muscle memory had kicked in from his days of defense CQC. In return, heavy boot pushed back between Piers' muscled calves and hooked his ankle nimbly, tripping him backwards while turning on the instep to free himself of the vice-like grip upon his wrist, meanwhile attempting to gain steady footing. Two skilled hands upon the sniper's hips heaved him up against the nearby wall, back thudding against the drywall and ricocheting between it and the oppressing body that forced him upon it. Lips instantly crushing against his own mid grunt of air being forced form his lungs form impact, teeth clashing and causing jewels of blood to lips on soft bow shaped tiers, both fighting for dominance, as Piers' hand knocked up against the wall, searching up the flat surface for the switch; flipping the light to brighten the hall. Hazel eyes shot wide as he was caught, hands keeping him prisoner with their superior strength as Luka moved lips away from that gasping mouth he'd seized, and down that smooth jawline, ever lower. Latching to that always hidden throat and sucking, tasting every part of that forbidden flesh.

The sniper knew he should have said something, stopped him in some capacity before this could escalate, but his mind went blank; losing all instinctive reaction. Feeling those hands bracing him up against the wall, mouth bringing a rough grimace of pleasure from the sniper. He couldn't help but be paralyzed by each bite and graze of sharp white enamel on his normally hidden neck. Heat rose to his face, knowing full well the mark that Luka's mouth was leaving of purpled bruised flesh lay just beside that of another, the very reason for the scarf and collar in the first place. It didn't seem to give the Russian pause however, moving fingertips that hooked the soaking wet white attire that clung to Piers' body before hoisting it up and over his head, releasing his neck only to remove the material entirely.

"You... you have to go Luka. We can't do this." Piers felt warm, longer fingers splay over his ribs, pulling him away from the wall and backed through the entry way to the living room. "We need to stop."

"I know printsessa. I will go." Pale white hands twisted Piers with an iron-clad grip in one movement until his muscled back was up against Luka's barrel chest. Centripetal force however, favored Piers; spinning swiftly with the motion so fast it felt a blur as momentum was granted to him and taking hold of the hand that wrapped around his torso. They were soldiers, ones that weren't used to handing over power or control. It was a twisted dance between sensual movements and well trained counters, challenging one another for dominance. Even as Luka spoke his understanding words, his actions spoke contrary to their meaning. Piers had used the velocity to spin their bodies, bending his elbow as his own hand balled into a tight fist, leveling it with a firm shoulder as his extended elbow hurled back against the figure clutching him. Meaning to knock his opponent out with one swift shot, his elbow clashing against the thick meat of Luka's muscled forearm, which lifted just in time to block the attack, the force of throwing his elbow as well as it being blocked causing the back of his knees to press back against the lip of the couch, falling backwards roughly. Arms reached out for balance, falling back and reaching out in the same motion to grasp hold of Piers, pulling him along with gravity. The snatch jerked them off balance, and Piers followed him in step to fall into his lap; one lean leg on each side of that sculpted form, hands immediately taking better hold of those slim hips. He would have spoken but they were both slick with the rain and sweat from battling with one another, bodies slipping together faster than natural as Piers yanked the remains of Luka's uniform from his chest, tossing it over the back of the couch. They were quick, eager movements, the kind that spoke volumes of what was wanted. Lips sealed over Piers' nipple, hands shoving down the back of fatigues, gripping handfuls of smooth round flesh. "I should go, yes?" His words were breathy, teeth grazing that hardened nub of flesh with teeth, causing a moan to escape Piers' pouted tiers, a hissed 'yes.'

Impressive strength lifted the sniper and Luka from the couch cushions, never releasing his grip until he'd shoved Piers against the wall, legs wrapping around his Luka's waist slick upper bodies, sliding together as that mouth assaulted his neck again, using the wall as a brace to remove one hand reluctantly from that tight cheek in his hand to grip a hand full of Piers' damp hair, jerking his head to pull his features to the side, giving Luka better access to that tan flesh he craved so savor. He was relishing in all those pretty noises that he earned from Piers' pouted lips, raking his teeth on that flesh and marking it for his own, flicking his tongue in the hollow of his throat as two dexterous hands slipped between them, fumbling at the button to uniform pants that lay between them, growling at the frustration they gave him, even as Luka gave a harmonious chuckle over his irritation, releasing him with both hands to let Piers release his legs around his waist. Hands on his waist spun him around, hips ground against one another while well versed fingers wrapped around the front of him, holding them together while undoing the button and zipper of dark fatigues. They were shoving one another, pushing to get what they wanted, tripping over one another until Piers was half bent over the counter of his kitchenette gasping as his arms were pulled up over his head and cupped in one hand at the wrists while his body was ground against by those sweet movements from the man still insisting he was leaving, tasting every inch of Piers' lithe torso, bent over backward on he counter, exposing every inch of him to the ravenous mouth. Teeth and humid mouth trailed saliva across slim ribs sending goosebumps over that body he teased and mapped.

They were both winding around each other, slick bodies against one another as Luka finally pulled free those fatigues that had held loose on Piers' slimmer hips, jerking them off him as the sniper locked his elbows with palms pushing him up to sit upon the counter top. Ice blue eyes feasted on that body, taking in the tan dermis. It was then that baritone finally broke their rambling words of contrary actions, pulling Piers off the counter top into his arms and picking him up, hand gripping that muscled thigh and holding it palmed to his waist, watching as Piers' head dropped back against his shoulders in an unfettered gasp as their hips brushed together. "Where's the bedroom printsessa?" Piers whimpered when Luka stroked his thigh, gripping the other hand over his backside. "Where?" His tone was forceful, demanding as his hands rubbed, enjoying the tiny gasps of want.

He'd waited far too long playing the game of cat and mouse not to love the hoarse sonance the sniper was emitting, as he carried and pushed him through the homestead, both of them struggling aggressively for dominance, an instinct driven deeply within their hormones. Piers grappled with Luka through the apartment, ping-ponging against the walls as each physically commanded the other up against the narrow passageway; devouring each others mouths vigorously until they came to the bedroom. As they hit the room the entire situation shifted gears. The battle for physical supremacy was not yet decided, neither soldier yet mounting the other into submission. Luka brandished his strength as his thick arms rose to constrict around Piers' neck and shoulders; he would show this boy his true mettle. Careful not to harm the American A.T.L. while clutched in his grasp, a heavy grunt escaped his lips as his foot secretly slid behind Piers' heel, sweeping him down onto the mattress even as both of their chests heaved. Standing over his conquest, Luka placed his hands down upon the defined pectorals of the figure beneath him, his tone quite satisfied with himself. "My beautiful printsessa... Allow me to show you what real power is, hn?" Slipping between lean legs and thick thighs with no hesitation or shame, Piers let out a sharp gasp as that moist tongue darted out over the muscular contours of his inner thigh. "You're mine, krasivyy soldat." Russian words washed over Piers as his mouth fell agape, moaning in sweet tenor as that moist muscle teased up his bare physique, over the muscled 'V.' "Shakhta" It came as a growl while hooking Piers' leg with his own arm, dexterous sniper's fingers undoing the front of Luka's own uniform slacks and pushing them down. "Malo shlyukha...your body is a temple for my desecration, your flesh calls my name. I promise you printsessa, you will scream my name."

Filthy. It was drawn out, graphic, obscene; and Piers loved it. His own voice was lost, when he felt the evidence of their physical exchange brushed by his own calloused fingertips as he freed the blond from the confines of his remained garments, giving a hum of pleasure before Luka's hand smacked his own forcefully away, wrenching it up and over his head. "No printsessa, tonight... tonight you will only feel. I will show you how to beg. I am your captain now. Umolyat.'" Piers gave a sharp growl, cut off by being driven up the bed with the force of broad shoulders pushing him until the back of his head hit the headboard, their hips flush together, delicious friction forcing Luka's throbbing girth betwixt the smooth, firm cheeks of the man beneath him, a unison of inhalations through pearly whites as Piers could feel every inch of that foreign flesh slide slick again his puckered orifice. Still not yet fully defeated, Piers reached back even as the top of his head pulsated from the knock on the noggin against the bed frame. However, before he could throw an elbow against the chest of the Russian, it was taken by an iron-clad grip, unexpectedly forcing him to twist sideways even as the assault against his backside intensified. Grunting in frustration, his cheeks burned scarlet as Luka paused between his heavy masculine breath for laughter which exploded from the depths of his barrel chest, his hips not pausing for an instant as he did. In this moment, there was nothing greater than the feeling of primal superiority over the muscular figure beneath him; even as Piers mutely labored to find advantage from his position. "Still fighting agent? Always fighting, soldat." Holding his body contorted, the Russian made his point by leaning his weight forward, swiping his tongue over bowshaped, pouted tiers, that opened upon request. "Good boy." Lips sealed, sucking on the tongue that slipped in his mouth, muffling the curses that poured from the snipers mouth while their limbs untangled.

Toes curled in as Luka ground their hips together again, reveling in brushing his straining arousal against that hole he so desperately wanted to claim. The fight was exhilarating, but Luka claimed and calmed him with that kiss, threatening to bite him when Piers shifted his body, Russian hnds, sturdy and strong, guiding hands behind his back until Piers shoulders strained, moaning into that balmy cavern with another shift of hips. "Such a strong soldier you are printsessa. So use to being in control." That compact, firm body beneath his fingertips struggling faintly against each manipulation of his body, even as he slipped between being that perfect soldier, or giving himself willingly over to the man grinding their hips together until hazel eyes had fluttered shut and his mouth had gone dry, gasping for suffocating air. "Let go." Teeth worried into a craned neck, the pain earning a strangled moan, that filled the room, Piers hips pushing into those of his captor as he began to suckle on his throat, teeth drawing out a cry that turned ragged as that hardened length pushed up inside him in one slick movement.

I can only say this. : )