Not a single familiar face in it, and while he stands out, it’s for being a lanky thing, not the reputation that has followed him before. A lanky thing out of uniform, but there's girls drinking with the men too, there doesn't seem to be a rule prohibiting civilians.

So, he meanders his way to the bar, and orders whatever is cheapest, hoping what’s left in his pockets will cover it. He’s still not used to the idea of having to pay to get drunk.

"Don't drink that." Says the boy — no, he's a man, but not by much — sitting by his elbow. His fair hair looks too golden for the smoky grime. "That vodka's piss-poor."

Ansik raises a brow, smiling. It’s lopsided, a bit too sharp. Exactly the way he’s been told so often is un-nerving, but never been able to kick the habit of. “Is it now?”

"No respectable bar would sell it. Not to drink. Maybe to clean floors."

“What do you recommend I drink instead?” A slight head tilt, the way papa always said. A light lowering of his lashes, to indicate interest.

"Do you prefer vodka?" There's a smile in return, a sweet one.

“I prefer anything strong,” he says, trying to flutter his eyelashes.

"Try the medovukha. It's sweet and good here."

Of course he doesn’t have the coin to pay for it, even as he raises a finger to the bartender to order. “Indeed, I will.”

"Allow me to buy you a glass."

“Well, who am I to turn down such a lovely gentleman?”

He smiles ever wider. Like this boy he's met is a sweet girl instead.

He truly is lovely. A beautiful thing. Ansik wants to tear him to pieces. “And what is such a lovely gentleman doing in so seedy a place as this?”

"The nicer bar won't let us in. Pasha and Karamov went and checked."

Ansik leans in, like he’s telling a beautiful secret. “It won’t let me in either.”

"Oh, that's terrible! We must have done something to deserve it. Army boys can be terrible."

“I have it on good authority you’ve done nothing of the sort. The owner holds a grudge, you see.”

"Ah. Well, that's not unreasonable either, I suppose."

“No, it’s entirely hypocritical.” Despite a better drink coming, Ansik still downs the terrible shot. It’s not near as bad as he expected.

"Ah. Is he a violent man?"

“Famously so.”

"Then perhaps he is a hypocrite. Some of my comrades can be so terribly violent, even outside of that which they charge us with."

“And do you get charged often?”

"I try not to do undo violence. I'm charged to defend the country, not harm its people. But them? No, they do not."

“Mh, I have always thought our law enforcement here in town is…… lacking.” He leans in, breathing deep of the soldier’s smell, far too close for propriety.

And doesn't get a slap for it. And Lev doesn't lean away. "Is it just?"

“They’re entirely self serving.” He wants to bite, to touch and pull and bruise.

The soldier has fine skin. Clear and creamy and freckled. Would be so pretty bruised. "It's common in such places."

“Have you traveled much then? To see other places it happens?” Ansik leans closer still, fingering the rim of the soldier’s glass.

"I've been around the country. Never so far as this. Moscow, Stalingrad, Sverdlovsk. And now here. I'm from Leningrad, see."

“Oh! A very well-traveled, pretty gentleman indeed.”

"You think I'm pretty?" And he blushes.

“Most definitely,” Ansik leers.

"Oh. I see." But yes, yes, he doesn't seem hateful. He seems instead flustered.

“One of the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

"Oh, you seem like the sort to have seen plenty, too."

“Just around town,” he admits. “But there are plenty of pretty things around town, and you are by far the prettiest.”

"You're kind to say it." But his grin is back. "Here's your drink."

He takes a sip, and smiles, lazy and wide. “Oh, this is good. You have impeccable taste dear.”

"It's lovely, isn't it? Better than some they have."

“Better by far than the swill I ordered myself. And I have such a pretty, unnamed soldier to thank.”

He blushes even further to say his name. "Lev-Ninel."

But there’s nothing apart from enchantment on Ansik’s face. “Even your name is pretty!”

"You think so? Many find it clumsy."

“I think it’s perfect. It suits you.” His eyes shine. “Lev-Ninel…. It lilts so lovily on the tongue.”

"And you? I must have something to call you."

“Anastasiy. My parents have… a flair for the dramatic.”

"A beautiful name. A name for the opera."

“A name that would get them accused of tsarist sympathies anywhere but here.” He shakes his head. “In truth, it simply aligned with their personal philosophy, and they couldn’t care less of the ex-royal family.”

"That's good. They oughn't to."

“And they don’t.” Even if he does, every once in a while, hear them speak fondly of the society gatherings they went to as young men.

His smile doesn't fall. "I'm pleased."

Another drink, and he’s brave enough to lean closer still. “How else might you be pleased?”

"Have you somewhere to take me home too?" Lev-Ninel whispers.

And oh how heat curls hot and heavy in his gut. “Yes, nice and quiet. Private.”

"Then why don't we take a walk? A walk would be pleasant."

“Indeed, it would.” Ansik downs the rest of his drink and tosses what coin he has onto the bar. Lev-Ninel places down some coins to make up the gap. “It’s down by the warehouses. We won’t be disturbed.”

Lev-Ninel links their arms as they walk. Ansik nearly kicks his feet in joy. Years of trying to find someone who’ll even look at him, and he’s already going home with this pretty, young, innocent thing. Arms linked like how his fathers walk.

As they get deeper into town, he tightens his grip just a tad. “Have you been here long then?”

"Oh, not at all. Days. It's a fascinating place."

“I’m always interested to see how people see our little town. Even in a short time it seems to make an impression.”

"I think it's a fascinating place. Like somewhere out of a history book. Or a fairytale."

“Our little town, locked in time…. Yes, I suppose that’s accurate.”

"Now, it's not an insult! It's quite lovely."

He smiles again, and presses just a bit closer. “I’m glad to hear it.”

"Do you often get visitors?"

“No… a few more, in the past ten or so years, but even they were passing through.”

"And soldiers. But I suppose we keep to ourselves."

“That you do, which is a shame.”

"It truly is. What does it hurt to befriend people where we're stationed?"

“I would imagine it hurts nothing at all.” Except in this case, where Ansik intends on hurting him quite a bit.

"At worst, our hearts. And that's no great loss."

“What makes your heart less a loss than anyone else’s?”

"We signed up to be more valuable for our bodies."

Ansik presses a hand to his chest, cooing. “Your heart is valuable to me.”

Lyova blushes fiercely red. "Too kind."

“You deserve some kindness, I think.”

"Is that what you'll show me?"

“Amongst other things.” He wants to tear this beautiful boy apart, yes, but putting him back together so tender will be the most delicious part.

Lyova's eyes sparkle with interest. "Do tell me more. Whisper."

“Have you ever experienced agony so sublime it makes you beg for more? Ever felt the kiss of a switch, administered not of discipline, but utter devotion? Or a blade, oh so lovingly tracing your skin in the most exquisite of ways?”

"I can't say I have. Is that what you'd like?"

His face shutters, turning a pained flushed. “I- yes. It’s what I intended to— to give you, yes.”

"I've never tried it. I'd be... interested."

“If—“ he swallows, trying to regain his nerve. “If you ask pretty enough, I’ll- I’ll suck you off while the welts go down.”

"Then I'll certainly try it."

Ansik smiles, still off kilter. “Good. I- I mean… oh hell, you know what I mean.”

"I'll let you beat me. Not too hard."

“No, no I wouldn’t want to do any permanent hurt. And I’ll take such good care of you after.”

"Do you promise?"

“I swear. It’s the part I look forward to the most.”

"Then, do as you will."

Oh you’ll regret giving me that freedom, he thinks, already imagining which switch, which whip he wants to use. “You’re going to be even more gorgeous.”

Just because I've never done it doesn't mean I've never wanted to. "All battered?"

“Battered and bruised and beautiful laid out for me.”

"Sounds like I'll be a sight."

“Mhmm, you’re going to stay the night. You won’t hardly be able to walk home after.”

"Let them think I'm sleeping off drink."

“If you’d like, afterwards, it can even be true.”

"I wouldn't mind it."

“A stiff drink and enough kindness to choke on, then.”

"If you'd like to give me something else to choke on, I'm not bad with my mouth."

“Want to start the evening with that then? Get me all nice and taken care of so I can focus wholly on you?”

"Sounds delicious to me."

“And I’ll finish you off to close the night, while you catch your breath.”

"Hopefully in the pleasant sense."

Ansik tilts his head, confused, before sudden clarity flashes into him. “Oh! No, I meant—!” His voice lowers, a barely there whisper in the quiet dark. “I’ll suck you off.”

"I'll thank you for it."

“Such a polite little thing.”

"Is that how you like them?"

And he’ll not say he’s never had any before. Not when poor Lev-Ninel already seems a tad unsure. “I certainly like it on you.”

"Then I'll carry one. But I can have a foul mouth just as well, a soldier's mouth."

“Then I’ll like that just as much. It’ll all be pretty from your lips.”

"You'll surely hear me plead."

“Oh, of that I’ve no doubt.” He leads them to a specific building, just barely outside the warehouse district. “But I hope to hear everything from thanks to anger. All of it is so lovely.”

"Is this where you live?"

“And work, yes. It’s just me in the building; we own it outright.”

"It's so interesting how everyone here has houses that stand apart."

“The longer buildings, the ones with paths underneath? Those house two to four units. But we’re an old town, and our conception was an unusual one.”

"We had almost twenty people sharing a kitchen."

That startles Ansik enough to make him almost drop his key. “How did you get anything done? Or breathe?”

"Snuck out on the fire escapes."

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a kitchen with more than five others. My parents, an uncle and my two sisters.”

"That's not so many at all. All family."

“All family. And all saw me a squalling newborn.”

"Well. Everyone saw babies at my home, too."

“I think that would have been impossible for us, to have that many in the room. To have any beyond family there.”

"I wish we had such."

“Perhaps you’ll be in town long enough to find a place of your own.” The door opens, and Ansik gestures for him to enter. There’s a faint smell of formaldehyde, and alcohol. And still, Lev-Ninel enters as if anything about this is normal. He leads Lev-Ninel deeper, past a locked door that truly smells of death, and a room full of pelts, forms and mounting blocks. “For us, I’m even more glad of the privacy.”         

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

"The skins." Lyova says, almost hushed. Not sure if he's terrified or reverent.

"Oh! Yes, I... I see how you got there. That would be my work. I'm a taxidermist." That same crooked smile quirks. "Pa said I would take after my uncle, and I suppose in some ways I did."

"Oh, you must tell me about that some time." He breathes a sigh of relief it's just a hobby, albeit it a bourgeois one, and not anything more sinister.

"About my uncle or my work?" An eyebrow raises, exactly the way Dankovsky's does when asking a nonsensical question.

"Your work. Perhaps your uncle, should he figure into it. Should you wish to share."

"That's the easiest bit to explain," he says with a smile. "We both play with dead things."

"Animals?" Lev-Ninel says hopefully. Without much real hope.

"I do, certainly." Not exclusively, but that much doesn't need to be said this early.

"Your work seems fascinating." The shine is back in his eyes.

Ansik smiles back, just as excited. "If you'd like, I can show you in the morning."

"I'd love it. I'll have to be back in the afternoon."

"What'll happen if you play hooky?" he asks, half question, half tease, already pulling Lev-Ninel into his bedroom.

"I'd be put on the front line. Gone too long, that's desertion, and that's a bullet in my head."

He stares, horrified, at his catch. "Oh, you poor thing! I'll make sure you're back in time, I swear."

"Might have some laxity here. They'll likelier assume I'm gallivanting with the locals than that I've truly deserted."

"I'd still rather not chance it, certainly not so soon after we've become acquainted." The door locks behind them, and Ansik tugs open that armoire, displaying a, truthfully frightening, collection of sexual torture devices.

Lev-Ninel's eyes are wide. "Is that how you play?"

"Did my words earlier not indicate as such?" He looks worried now, scared Lev-Ninel will try to leave. "Of course I won't use this all tonight! Hardly any of it, even. I just- I thought I might let you pick from a few options."

"You're kind. I might choose a soft option."

Ansik ducks his head. "I think you'll be hard pressed to find one...."

"That one." He points to a flogger, one tamer than some others. "I want that one."

"Then that's what we'll start with." He pulls it down, and sets it out on the table beside his bed. "Strip for me."

Lev-Ninel undresses like it's a military order. Careful, diligent, and he folds his clothes.

"Oh you really are a polite thing," Ansik says, wonderingly. "This is going to be such fun!"

His skin is even smoother and paler where it's not exposed to the sun, lacking the same constellations of freckles.

"And such a perfect canvas for me......" His father would be jealous, even though he has their uncle any time he asks. "I do believe you said you'd suck me."

Without a further word, he drops to his his knees, and busies himself with Ansik's fly.

Ansik wastes no time in tangling fingers in his hair, already focusing on not coming as soon as he's touched.

Lyova's mouth touches him gently as soon as he gets him out, mouthing along the line of his erection.

"No need to be gentle, pretty thing. Lord knows I won't be."

So Lyova takes him into his mouth, licks the head as he goes, then swallows him down.

A strangled gasp comes out, hands tightening in Lyova's hair. "Yes, just- Just like that!"

Lyova uses his mouth like he has practice, licking and sucking.

"Lev-N-- L-! Fuck you're good at that!"

Practice makes perfect. He smiles around the cock in his mouth.

Ansik tugs harder at his hair, wanting to see tears form before he comes.

It doesn't take much pulling. His scalp must be sensitive.

"S-so perfect..." it melts into a low groan as Ansik comes, tugging him closer still by his hair.

He swallows down most of it. Some spills, dribbling down his chin.

Ansik yanks him up, and licks it off his chin, before pulling Lyova into a harsh kiss.

Lyova kisses back, all tongues and teeth and biting.

When they break apart for air, Ansik is grinning, wild and manic. "You're just perfection, Lyova."

He groans at the sweet name.

Ansik nips at his lips, as if to eat the groan, and shoves him onto the bed.

He goes sprawling willingly, though he could clearly have withstood the push.

"Mn, on your belly, I think, unless you want to risk that precious cock being hit."

He flips over quick as can be.

"Obedient little darling...." Ansik rewards it with a light hit from the flogger. Being merciful, and aiming away from any truly sensitive bits to begin.

And Lyova's body jerks and twitches.

"If I were cruel I might make you count." He gives another lash. "But instead I'll just ask how it feels."

"Feels... not like getting hit usually does."

“And how does getting hit usually feel?” Ansik is nearly bouncing on his toes from glee.

"Usually it's just... impact, and sting. And a little bit of arousal. There's more arousal this time."

“I would hope as much, my dear.”

"Feels different when I don't have to hide being hard."

Ansik giggles, a fully body laugh. “No, and I’ll even let you grind against the sheets, so long as you don’t come from it.”

"You're kind." His voice is breathy.

“I did tell you I’d give you kindness.” Another two lashes land, in quick succession.

Another two gasps, low and breathy.

“That’s it Lyova, enjoy it.” And Ansik stops holding back.

Lyova's pleasure and pain come as a litany of short cries. Once he’s sufficiently reddened, Ansik sets the flogger aside. “Yes… you’re a work of art….” He turns back to the armoire. “And now to pick the next brush.”

"Another?" His voice is shaky.

“At least one more, sweet boy. We’ve not even begun properly breaking you in!” He reaches in, hand hovering between a few switches, and a lovely whip, unsure. More unsure, of how long Lyova will last. He's trembling already, in such a tempting way.

“This will do nicely, I think,” he says, turning back to Lyova with a flexible switch in his hand. Stained dark, it whistles as Ansik gives a teasing swish. Lyova's hips jump just at the sound. He brushes it over Lyova’s bare ass, gentle, barely ghosting the warm skin. “So responsive! I can’t want to see how you sob.”

Lyova wriggles, grinds himself a little into the mattress.

“Good boy!” Ansik gives a lash of the switch, lighter than the rest will be, just to give a taste. It makes Lyova’s muscles tense, and his cock jump. Another lash, harder this time, leaving a red welt. “The more you tense, the more it’ll hurt.”

Lyova groans, low in his throat. "Good."

“My, my, I did find the perfect boy.” A flurry of hits, crisscrossing Lyova’s back, all leaving marks.

He moans like he's about to cry. Another, this time to that adorable arse, leaving an angry red line across it. When he rubs himself into the sheets, it looks as much like an attempt to get away as to ease arousal.  Ansik just laughs, and aims lower, for those pale, unblemished thighs.

It takes a few more hits there before Lyova breaks. "A— a moment, please."

He has half a mind to continue on anyway, but Lyova isn’t pulling away, only asking to breathe. Ansik brings the switch to rest on his lower back. “A moment, then.”

His breathing is shaky, gasping, near tears.

“How does it feel, dear?” He wants to know everything.

"Sharp. Uh... stings, and then it aches."

“And how does that make you feel?”

"I feel... like an eggshell."

“Enjoyable?”

"I think so." He no longer sounds sure.

Ansik leans down and tugs his face up to look at him. “You’re going to be even more stunning when that shell shatters.” Then, he kisses the man.

He gets a groan in response, such a beautiful sound, right into his mouth. It’s licked up, nipped at, swallowed down, before Ansik pulls back and retakes his switch. A few more hits, and Lyova's eyes are gone hazy.

It’s an utterly gorgeous sight, with welling tears and a crisscross of red lines over bruises on his back. “Perfect boy. Enjoying all I give him.”

He nods. Half-nods, the motion of a man much drunker than he is.

“I think it’s time to move to our last toy, mh? Does my lovely doll want that?”

"Yes, sir..." he breathes out.

A low, aroused groan rips out of Ansik at that, rewarding him with another kiss. “Good boy!”

Lyova files away the enjoyment in his hazy brain. Ansik returns to the armoire, and spends a long moment trying to decide which whip he wants. Eventually choosing one that won’t cut as much. For the first time, it wouldn't due to tear him up overmuch.  Not when he has to go back to his post tomorrow. The whip cracks through the air, tip close enough to Lyova to move his body hair.

He jolts again, but this time, doesn't stiffen. The next crack preludes pain, landing between Lyova’s shoulder-blades. He howls at the sting, but not in a way that sounds displeased. Ansik grins, sharp and cruel and barely restrained. Another hit, another two. The skin splits, under one of them. Just a tiny scratch.

Ansik gasps in delight, and leans down, licking it up, tonguing at the small wound. A tiny bit of blood, just a few drops, seeps into his mouth. “You’re just delicious, Lyova. I’d drown in your taste.”

Lyova moans, sweet as can be.

He peels himself upright, and licks his lips before landing another hit. “Just a few more…”

A few more lovely cries, at each hit. Until finally, finally, Ansik coils back up the whip, admiring his work of art. Lyova is shaking all over now, sodden in sweat. Still hard.

“You’re beautiful, love. My gorgeous Lyova….” Ansik ghosts featherlight touches over all the welts, the reddened skin and bruises. “I’d very much like to suck you off for it.”

"Please..." his voice is light, breathy.

“You can lay on your back or you can sit up.”

"Sit up, please, sir." He shifts quite stiffly to do so.

Ansik helps him shift to the edge of the bed, kissing him so gently as he does. “That’s a good boy. You’re doing so well.”

"Hurts a bit..."

“I know Lyova, it’s alright. I’ll make you feel all nice, and then I’ll take care of all the aches. I promise.” He sinks to his knees before the man, smiling up at him, utter devotion. “Hold on tight to me, okay?”

He curls fingers into Ansik's hair, looking down at him with softly shining eyes.

Ansik takes firm hold of his hips and nuzzles at Lyova’s prick. “Such a pretty thing you are. Everywhere.”

His prick jumps, the head all wet.

“That’s it, let me taste you. I’ve got you.” He licks at the excited cock, moaning at the taste. Taking it further in, trying to hide his inexperience, though Lyova seems well beyond the point of noticing. He gets a feel for it, the weight and heft on his tongue, the places that make Lyova twitch. When he feels confident enough, Ansik looks up through dark lashes, and sinks down near the root.  Lyova makes a delightful, punched-out sound. Ansik hums around him, entirely wicked. Yes, that’s it. That’s what I want to see.

It doesn't take long for Lyova to be trying to warn Ansik he's going to come. "Close!"

He pulls back enough to breathe, but makes sure to catch all of Lyova’s spend in his mouth, showing it off before he swallows it down. Lyova watches him in bleary concern.

Once he can speak again, Ansik leans toward him, standing up to better hold his Lyova. “What’s wrong dearest?”

"I thought you might want to spit it out."

“If I wanted to, I would have, my dear. But you taste so utterly perfect….”

"You like it? I like it. Didn't know other men liked it."

“I like yours,” he says, nuzzling closer.

"You're kind." He's still shivering.

Ansik kisses the closest skin he can find and gently tugs Lyova toward him. “I’m being truthful, nothing more.”

Lyova goes easily. "I feel funny."

“What does it feel like, lovely?” He knows he’ll have to rub some cream into the dark bits.

"Like water. Thin and runny and something you might fall through."

He hums, curling closer. “Oh, my poor dear. Just a moment, and I’ll take care of you.” 

Lyova looks up at him with wide trusting eyes.

“Lie back down on your stomach, I’ll do everything.”

He does so, both obedient and exhausted. Digging through the armoire for just a moment, Ansik comes back with a pot of cream, and crawls onto the bed. “It might sting at first, where the skin broke, but this will help, I promise.”

"It broke? I bled?" He sounds almost frightened.

“Just a small amount darling, it’s alright. It’ll heal up in no time, especially with this.” He rubs some of the salve between his fingers to warm it just slightly, and begins slathering it over the litany of pained discoloration covering Lyova’s back and arse, cooing praise and sweet nothings all the while. Lyova groans, but it isn't the same sound as before. It's sweet and satisfied. Ansik takes care to pack it around the few nicks, letting the herbs work their magic. When his soldier boy is all salved and shiny, he presses a kiss right in the center of his back. “I’ll get you something to drink, and some food, mh? I won’t be gone more than a moment.”

Lyova is coming back to himself, slowly. Feel raw, and very tired, and hungry indeed. And Ansik returns with a small feast. Bread and cheese and bits of fruit. Dried fish, pickled eggs, all of it set out on a tray, alongside large glasses of water, and a bottle of drink. “Here we are.” He shuffles back onto the bed, situates everything, and holds a piece of buttered bread to Lyova’s lips.

He comes from money. Lyova thinks, and says nothing, and opens his mouth.

“Such a perfect boy. You did so well! And I’ll take care of you properly, hold you all through the night.” Another bite is held to his lips, a piece of fruit this time. 

"Still let me stay?"

“Of course! I’d never toss you out. This house is open to you as long and as often as you wish.”

"I'll come back." He dares say. "After tonight."

Ansik beams, crooked and genuine. “I’d be delighted to have you.”

"It won't be long, I swear."

“Darling its can be as long as you need.” He offers the glass of water.

He takes it in a shaky hand, gulps greedily.

Ansik smiles, pleased, basking in being the one to offer relief. “That’s it, easy love.” Rubbing his shoulder, supporting the glass. This is utter bliss for him.

"Thank you..." He says shakily.

“You’re most welcome my dear Lyova. Some more food?” Ansik will hand feed it all to him if he asks.

"Some pickles, please." Ansik’s smile only grows, offering them as well, brine juice running down his hand. Lyova digs into them with a great pleasure. "Haven't had so many things in a while."

“Then I’ll lavish you in options. I’ll make a proper breakfast in the morn, too.” Everything for his boy, because Lyova is his now. He’ll not let him go.

"I'll have to suck you off again right then and there."

Ansik, despite it all, flushes. “Really? I’d not ask payment in any kind. Truly, it’s my pleasure to provide.”

"What a good man I've found."

“And what a perfect one I have.” He wipes juice off Lyova’s face, smiling.

His blush returns, creeping across his cheeks. Ansik kisses that blush, kisses all across him. Until he grins, until he giggles.

“There you are! My gorgeous man, all happy and sated, as you ought to be.”

"Feeling a little more whole."

“I promised I’d put you back together.” Ansik pulls him gently, until Lyova is lying atop him. “I like knowing I’m caring for you.”

"I find I don't mind to experience it."

“Good! My boy ought to get accustomed to such things.”