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.”

"Yours." He says softly.

"All marked up and claimed. If I have my way you won't go a day without my touch dark on your skin again."

"It'll take some time to heal. Always does."

Ansik sighs, happy, and shoves his nose against Lyova's hair. "I really did luck out with you, didn't I? The perfect man."

"Someone willing to hurt me..."

"I relish in it my dear. And even moreso the piecing you back together afterwards. I'll prod at every bruise and make you cry just so I can wipe tears away with love."

" You're perfect."

He laughs, almost silent, and kisses the top of Lyova's head. "I'm never letting you go, you know that, right?"

"But I'll have to go, when we're transferred on."

"Maybe I can buy your commission, or your service, or- however the damned military calls it these days." He says it so casually, as if that price is nothing to blink at. As if he hasn't offered to buy Lyova.

Lyova's eyes widen. "They won't let you. Not in wartime."

"For the right price, I'm sure they would."

"They're shockingly desperate."

"Wouldn't money be more helpful than a body, then?"

"You'd think. Warm bodies are their favourite."

Ansik pulls a face, scoffing. "I've never met a problem a piece of cannon fodder would have solved better than funding."

"The strategies they have..."

"Bah! Papa says a knife straight on is the best way to attack anyhow."

"They say, a wave of men."

His eyes go wide. "They truly do use you as cannon fodder then."

"They truly do, these days."

Ansik tugs him closer still. “The only hurt you come to ought to be at my hand.”

"If only."

"I don't suppose I could kidnap you away?"

"You might try."

"You'd be so pretty, in chains. Just enough of them to keep up the show."

"Do you have such chains?"

“Of course. In one of the other rooms.”

"I'd imagine you have everything."

Ansik smiles. “Very nearly.”

"Rooms full of dangerous treasures."

“Next time, I’ll let you pick anything you like.”

"And I'll love to have a look."

“The armoire is mostly the sort of thing we used today. Things for striking. There’s more, of a different sort, in other furniture. And some furniture itself in the other bedroom.”

"Things of what kind of sort?"

“Made for cutting, for binding. For penetrating.” Ansik’s hand drifts down to his arse, gently sliding just barely between the cheeks. “Things to make your prick weep, and to make it scream. To stop you from screaming. Anything you can imagine, my darling soldierboy.”

"The creators of such things are so clever."

“Aren’t they just?” He traces gentle shapes across the bare sides of Lyova’s thighs. “It was no easy feat getting most here.”

"Where did you find them?"

“Some my fathers designed, others on trips, or through correspondence with like minded folks in larger cities.” He has to hold in a laugh at the knowledge he likely has the largest collection within three provinces. “It was quite expensive to get it all to me. What I couldn’t make or commission in town, that is.”

"The sheer dedication you put in... I love it."

“And I love that I have it all here to use on you, my dear.”

"I want to try all of it."

"Then try all of it we will! There are things I haven't tested out yet at all."

"Have you had many to try it with?"

A slight laugh comes out, brushing through Lyova's hair. "No, not at all."

"I've never had a lover who would agree to treat me like this."

"Oh, my poor neglected dear. This is what you deserve, all the pain you could ever ask for, and enough tenderness to sink afterward."

"It's what I've longed for."

Ansik catching his chin, and pulls him into a proper kiss. "It's what you'll have. For as long as you'll have me."

"I'll have you, trust in that."

"Brilliant." He kisses Lyova again, until they're both breathless. "Now, would you like that stiff drink? Or more to eat?"

"A little more. Some bread and butter, a fruit."

"Of course, darling, open up for me." Hand feeding his boy is just heavenly. And his boy is so obedient parting swollen lips Cut fruit and soft bread are placed on his tongue, letting Lyova lick the fingers clean, learn the taste of him. As he does, licks as soft as a kitten's.

They repeat it, until the fruit is gone. "So perfect for me. Such a good boy."

"Such treats you give me."

"You deserve the best I can offer, my dear. And speaking of...." Ansik shifts them, reaching into his side table, pulling out an unfamiliar green bottle. "We spoke of having a stiff drink before bed. Have you had a chance to try this before?"

"No, I haven't. The local drink?"

“Mhm, not that it’s made anymore. The herb used to make it dried up…. Oh, a few years before I was born.”

"There's still rumours about it."

“Oh? Do tell! I love hearing what they say about it. We were one of the only ones to make it, you know.”

"They say it gives you terrible, wonderful dreams."

“It most certainly does. We save it for special occasions now. What say you to a taste?”

"I'd love to."

He pours two glasses, just the way his fathers taught. Holds his own up under his nose, breathing in the wafting earthy bite. “I do truly adore the stuff. The best I’ve had, and we hold the last of it in the world.” Ansik looks to him, and hand Lyova his glass. “It’ll be a treat to see someone experience the dragonfly eye for the first time.”

He sniffs, like he was shown, then takes a cautious sip. Ansik’s eyes don’t leave him for a second, watching enraptured. It takes a few sips for it to affect him. For light to break and fragment.

Ansik can pinpoint the moment it happens. Reality flicked, for a moment, and he can see just want kind of beast his boy is. “How do you feel pretty thing?”

"I want to keep looking."

“Then keep looking my love... it seems our local green fairy has a new devotee.”

"I've never seen anything shine like that."

“Tell me all about it sweet boy. I want to hear it all.”

"I see someone standing behind you, all clad in glitter."

“Interesting. I know not of any glitzy ghosts who ought haunt my home.”

"Well, everything's glitzy right now."

“Gorgeous, is it not?”

"It is. Like gems."

He gently nudges Lyova’s glass up toward his face, encouraging another sip.

Lyova sips eagerly. "Strong."

“As it ought to be. ‘Knock you on your ass or out the door,’ as papa said.”

"And I've tasted strong spirits before."

“None like ours. And none that quite beckon you toward visions as this does.”

"No. Never like this."

“Later, far off into our time together, I might like to show you how perfect getting fucked through such visions can be.”

"Oh, I can feel everything."

“I’ve been told it’s the most exquisite sensation in the world. Imagine how wonderful that pain would have been like this.”

"It would have sung."

“Another time, then,” he assures. “For now, just enjoy your visions, and tell me if you need anything.” He’ll make sure to man drinks water, of course, but this seems the right way to let Lyova drift toward sleep.

He does, sure to enjoy sparkling dreams.

Ansik hates to let go of him at all, but he slips out from under the man and packs away the food, refilling water. When he returns, it’s easy to slot back into his place, holding Lyova the way he ought to be held.

Lyova wriggles close even in his sleep. He clearly knows where he belongs and wants to be held. Of course, Ansik holds him, a touch tighter than he ought, with the sensitive rawness of his back. Kisses the top of his head, nuzzles against him, making every part of Lyova smell like him, at least for the night. If Lyova were awake, he'd be quite grateful to be marked up so. With bruises and blood and scent.

Much as he doesn’t want to let Lyova go back to his post at all, Ansik soothed by the fact it’ll be impossible for him to forget to he belongs to. How quick had it gone from a drink to this. How easily they had fallen and fit together. Made for one another. Lyova mumbles in his sleep, half-woken.

“Shhh, it’s alright love. Just sleep, I’ve got you.”

He hushes, the voice calming him. Gets featherlight kisses all across his head in reward. He's a good boy, so good and sweet. Not like Andrey says soldiers are. Ansik wonders if it’s just him, or if Andrey is wrong about them all. Maybe there are other gems. Surely his sisters, at least, have found one. A sweet boy, they say, a good boy. An obedient boy. Ansik think’s his boy must surely be the better between them. Not just obedient, but with a fire for being hurt. Truly the perfect boy. If he were a less possessive man, Ansik might even propose a show to his sisters. Might see how Lyova plays with an audience. One small, intimate and without too much expectation…. Yes, that could be rather nice. Show his sisters that someone likes him. That he hadn’t needed to tamper with any drinks, someone chose him all on his own. Chose to buy him a drink, even. A fact Ansik still marvels at, after so long of avoided, as if diseased. But Lev-Nilel hadn't thought so at all, it seems and for that alone, Anastasiy will never let him go.

Lyova wakes early in the morning, even after a night of twyrine and exertion. Early enough that Ansik tries to pull him back to bed, groaning.

He goes easily. Stroke Ansik's hair. "Good morning," he whispers.

“S’early…” he whines.

"It is. Are you a late riser?"

“I’m a sane riser, which means I’m not awake this early!”

"Then go back to sleep. I won't slip away. Ugh, the state of my head..."

That makes Ansik’s eyes creak the rest of the way open. “No, let me help. I can help.”

"You can?" Lyova sounds a little skeptical there's any help for the state of him.

“Oh yes. Let me... fuck, I’ll have to get up.”

"You don't have to if you'd rather not."

“No! I want to. I want to care for you.” He squirms toward the edge of the bed, tumbling out onto the rug beneath.

"Oh, sweet boy..." Lyova says, with deepest tenderness.

Ansik groans again, and picks himself up, first digging around for a painkiller, and handing it to Lyova. “Start with this, and I’ll make food.”

Lyova swallows it dry, without even wincing.

“Darling.” Ansik stares at him in mild horror. “At least wash it down with some water.”

He grabs the water then, and takes a swig.

“Really that’s just a terrible habit to have,” he says, finding his feet.

"Oh, I'm sure of it."

“Bad for the throat.” Ansik pads, nude, into the kitchen, clanging pots around to find the one he wants. Lyova lies back down, closing his throbbing eyes. He makes for them, in short order, cold hangover soup, a greasy egg, and two shots of vodka. It all gets carried back in on the same tray as the night before.

Lyova props himself up when he returns. "Oh, you're an angel."

“Egg first. Then soup, then shot,” he commands, digging into his own bowl of soup, having not made an egg for himself. Lyova obeys, slicing the egg up. “Good boy. You’re doing better than I expected this morning, frankly.”

"That I'm awake at all?"

“That you’re up and about and doing so without crashing into the walls.”

"Barely. I was swaying, you just had your eyes closed."

“You’re not used to the twyrine, it can put a man larger than you on his arse.”

"Even one used to drinking?"

“Oh certainly. Papa loves to tell the story of the first time he got my Uncle drunk on the stuff.”

"Oh? Sounds thrilling." And he sounds genuine.

“They’d been close in university, right. And Uncle could keep up with them in drink easy enough, both back then, and when he moved here. Well, a few weeks after arriving, my fathers have him over for a night of revelry and start up a shot game.”

"Starting with vodka, I assume. Or did they go straight to the harder stuff?"

“A few rounds of vodka, but they wanted to show off their local drink. As they tell it, within five rounds, my uncle forgot left from right, and within another three he couldn’t hardly walk. They had to carry him up to bed.”

"Ohh, the poor man."

“He was laid up in bed the next day and wouldn’t stop complaining. Not that it stopped him from drinking with them again the day after that!”

"Hair of the dog that bit you?"

“Either that or an inability to let the matter go.”

"Equally likely, it seems."

“In any case he can drink with the best of them now, but apparently it was a month full of headaches.”

"And bad ones, judging by mine."

“Unfortunately.” He nudges the plate closer to Lyova. “This will help though.”

"Nothing a good breakfast can't help."

“True enough. And I know how to fix this particular issue after years of it around the house.”

"And I thank you for it."

Ansik pets his head, gently and possessive. “I’ll do anything for you, my love. And you don’t have to thank me for a single bit I don’t tell you to.”

"You'd order me to?"

“Mh, can you honestly say you wouldn’t enjoy me ordering you to thank me for the pain I give you?”

"I can't. Not at all."

“Then, yes, I’d order you to.”

"You're perfect to me."

“And you, my dearest Lyova, are utter perfection for me.”

"We fit just right. What a lucky guess."

“One might argue fate, even.”

"Do you believe in fate?"

“Everything happens for a reason, though I don’t share the belief in predetermined tripwires some of my predecessors do.”

"That, I suppose, I could believe."

“Something brought you to town, after all.”

"Something decided my orders."

“And I thank them for bringing us together.”

"They decided I needed you."

“And they were right.”

"And," he swallows the last bite of egg, "you're even a good cook."

Ansik looks far too pleased at that. “Papa taught me starting young.”

"Too many parents still don't teach their boys."

“And it’s a crying shame.”

"Leaves an awful lot of hungry young men."

“I can’t imagine how many there are in the army…”

"Plenty, when we get a chance at cooking."

“Do you not often? I don’t suppose they do it for you.”

"They do, but it's nothing pleasant."

Having finished his soup, he shifts closer, carding his finger’s through Lyova’s hair. “You poor boys.”

"It's... not what I expected."

“Oh?”

"I thought it would be... it's stupid."

“No, I doubt stupid. I won’t judge.”

"I wanted to be a hero. Like my father."

Ansik’s face softens even further. “Oh, darling that’s not stupid at all. It’s noble.”

"He fought in the Revolution."

“Noble indeed!”

"It's how I got my names."

“I see ‘Lev,’ where did ‘Ninel’ come?”

"My mother said I ought to be named after Lenin, so she turned it backwards."

“Oh, that’s clever.” And he mostly means it.

"It's a bit silly."

“A bit, but it suits you.”

"Does it?"

“My own personal revolutionary… yes I’d say so.”

"Oh, I like the sound of that."

“Mh, I thought you might.” A kiss, to his forehead. “You like being mine, I can tell that much already.”

"I do. Belonging to someone. Especially you."

“Well, you certainly won’t belong to anyone else now.” Even though they both know the military owns him outright.

"I don't want to."

He kisses down Lyova’s cheek, down his neck, until he reaches just above the clavicle, nipping little bites into the skin. “You’d look just darling with a collar, but I don’t suppose we could get away with that and your uniform.”

"We could here."

“That we could…. Would you like that dear? A reminder against your throat that I’ve got you. That you’ll come back to me.”

"I think I would indeed."

Ansik presses one last bite to his throat, harder this time, and smiles. “ Such a good boy for me! I have leather and metal dear, which would you like to try?”

"Oh, leather, please."

“I’ll gather a few options then, while you finish up your breakfast.”

Lyova settles to finishing with gusto.

Rummaging through trunks and drawers and the armoire, Ansik comes back to him with an armful of possibilities. One a plain band of black, with only a D ring on the back near the buckle. The next a brown and black ombre, with oiled bronze hardware and ring front and center. Another, thicker, thick enough it would cover near Lyova’s throat column entire, and polished to a shine.

Lyova's eyes light up. He feels the excitement of a child picking sweets at the store. Points at the second one.

Ansik smiles, incredibly pleased. “Show your throat, love.”

He does, arching his neck.

It buckles softly in place, the gentle hiss of leather and the clink of buckled the only sounds. “You’re gorgeous, my Lyova.”

"Yours." He breathes worshipfully.

“All mine. Mine to keep and hold and hurt. Mine to soothe, mine to love.”

"Yours to break and put back together."

He kisses Lyova, once on the collar hardware, and once on the lips. “Exactly. You’re a quick study, it’s lovely.”

"It's what I didn't know I could dream of."

Their foreheads press together, and Ansik hums. “What were you doing before this, then?”

"Miserable things. Forced to be on top."

“You poor boy!” And it’s entirely genuine. “Well, I’ve scooped you up and will take care of you properly from here out.”

"And now I feel I can breathe again."

“Mh, and I hope to continue that, even when you’re struggling for actual air.”

"Actual air is quite different."

Ansik traces his throat with a slender finger. “And you’ll be just beautiful gasping for it.”

"Pull the collar tight..."

The smile turns wicked, Ansik yanking on leather until it can go no tighter, buckling the collar back shut so he can touch and grope down Lyova’s chest with both hands. Lyova gasps, and can't quite inhale again.

“You asked for this, my dear,” Ansik coos, kissing that gasping mouth, tweaking both nipples.

He nods, struggling frantically for breath. Ansik just carries on kissing him, trailing down his neck, over the collar, licking and nipping at his chest, leaving a line of small marks as be explores. His eyes, however, never leave Lyova’s face. Lyova, who is beginning to turn a lovely new shade. Who is looking at him with such desire.

“I was right, utterly gorgeous.” Chill fingers trace over Lyova’s prick, ghosting around it. The suggestion of touch, and he's at least half-hard.

He smiles, stroking gently. “I wonder if you can come before you pass out.”

He wriggles at the very question. Thumbing at Lyova’s tip, playing with his slit, collecting the pre gathering there, before taking hold of it properly. He's throbbing, twitching, all blood in his shaft.

"Such an eager thing you are.... I could tell you to do anything and you would, wouldn't you?" Ansik laughs to himself, hand moving the way it does when he strokes himself, just a touch too tight. "I mean, you already are. I've taken your breath away!"

Lyova is too dazed, can barely nod.

“Obedient darling…” he leans in, kissing Lyova as he strokes him, stealing more of the little air left in his lungs.

He doesn’t come before he passed out, and it's not dramatic when he does. Rather a slow, pale-faced crumbling.

Ansik tuts in mock disappointment. “Poor dear.” He undoes the buckle, redoing it a few sizes looser than it was originally put on. Settling down beside him with a happy sound.

It takes him a moment to come around. "Did I...?"

“No, love, you didn’t manage it.”

"No. I lost."

That sets a new spark in Ansik’s eye. “And what would you say a suitable consequence of ‘losing,’ as you put it, is?”

"Obviously, I don't get another chance to finish. And I should please you."

“Mmh, correct on both those counts, but…” he takes hold of Lyova’s cock again, stroking and teasing at the tip. “You’re going to get right to the edge before we stop.”

He nods. Swallows. Steels himself. Ansik starts back up that rhythm, tugging at him, teasing him closer. It's not difficult. He's still light-headed, still easy.

“ Tell me when you get close, or there’ll be worse consequences.”

Lyova gasps it out not much later. "Close!" And Ansik’s hand pulls away entirely. He knew what was going to happen, and still cries out mournfully.

“Remember love, you caused this. You want this. And you’ll not get release until you return to me tonight.”

"No. I shan't."

Ansik, testing his love’s self control now, presses a soft, short kiss to the tip of Lyova’s prick. “It’s mine now, as all of you is mine.”

His prick weeps pre-come, but he doesn't finish.

“Good boy!” He says standing. “I thought that might break your concentration.”

"I want to be good." As if it's obvious.

“And you are. You’re utter perfection.” Ansik cups his head in his face, gentle and sweet. “Now get on your knees where you belong.”

He drops to his knees, but just a little slowly, still shaky.

“Oh darling… you’ve been so good, and we have some time yet before you have to leave. I’ll let you choose. Do you want to taste me now, or wait till you’re more steady?”

"Would you mind terribly if we wait? Only, my head is spinning. I feel like I might faint again."

“I wouldn’t mind at all. That’s why I offered the option.” His hand finds Lyova’s hair, and guides them both back a few paces so he can sit. “We’ll have you practice this instead.”

Lyova is trembling softly as they sit together. Not, seemingly, from fear.

“Kneeling is an important skill for you to have. Rest your head on my thigh, love, and find what’s comfortable.”

He does, making a pillow of Ansik's thigh.

He smiles, scritching at his scale gently. “So well behaved. We’ll stay like this until you feel better.”

"I'm sorry. My head's just light."

“You needn’t apologize for that, Lyova. It’s to be expected.”

"I've never lost air like that."

“No, I don’t expect you have. And I doubt you will with anyone else.”

"Unless a skirmish goes bad."

“True,” he concedes, “but you’ll not be hard and needy from that.”

"No. More like terrified."

“Mmh, if I fill my role right, I’ll be able to incite that in you as well.”

"Sweet terror. It's different."

“That it is. You’ll beg for it from me. The same can’t be said of those on the field.”

"I'd more likely end up begging them for mercy."

“And not all at the fun way you will here.”

"No. Precisely different."

Ansik frowns. “You ought to just stay with me, away from all that.”

"I wish I could."

“I still think I should make an offer, try to buy your service commission.”

"They'd laugh you off. That's a thing of books."

“Well, it ought to be an option!”

"How I wish it was."

“Treasonous as it may be to say, it would have been easier if you were serving in wars past. Then it wouldn’t have mattered who supplied the money to buy you out.”

"If I were an officer."

“Are you not?” He blinks, almost shocked.

"Well. Barely. It depends on how you count."

“Oh? Tell me more.”

"I'm a sergeant. Really just an enlisted man."

“Sergeant Lev-Ninel…. A nice ring to it.”

"It does when you say it."

Ansik grins, “I think you like how it sounds when I call you anything.”

"You're quite right."

“I could call you sergeant. I could call you slut. I could call you darling, or dog, or divine, and you’d blush just the same for all of them.”

"Just because it's your voice saying it."

“Oh, you sweet talker!”

"I like your voice."

“It’s good I’m a civilian then, and only order you around here, rather than your commander.”

"Otherwise I'd be hard all day."

“A different sort of fun, but one that would make your job rather difficult.”

"Indeed, it would."

“Something to do on a day off, mh? Play as we go about around town.”

"Oh, that would be lovely."

“Get you all sensitive and needy, feel you up in alleys and under counters. Make you beg for release, all while anyone walking about could see you.”

"You're terrible. I like it."

“Of course you do my dear. You’re mine.”

"I am. So quickly... so lucky."

“You deserve it, Lyova. You deserve all of it.”

"Thank you. I think I'm ready."

“You know what to do my dear. I would have fucked your throat, but I’ve done all the work so far. It’s time you do it as well.”

Lyova takes him into his mouth slowly, carefully, lapping at the head.

“Mn, good boy.”

He takes him deeper, sucks harder.

“Show me what all you can do, darling, that’s it.”

He puts his best concentration into doing his best work. Ansik’s hands curl tighter in his hair, tugging just enough to sting, happy groans and soft moans falling freely from him. Tasting pre-come, Lyova sucks harder.

“There, just there! Lyova-!”

He repeats the motion that earned such acclaim. It’s only a few moments more before he’s coming, hands buried in Lyova’s hair, holding him in place. And Lyova swallows it down.

“So good for me…” Ansik pets at his cheek, fond and doting.

He smiles up at him once he's smiled.

“Come up, let me kiss you,” he says, falling back onto the bed, pulling Lyova up with him.”

Lyova crawls up to him, his knees stinging.

“That’s it, right in my lap.” Ansik situates him, getting his soldier straddling him comfortably. “Perhaps I ought to get you a special cushion to kneel on, mh? Especially since you’ll be spending a lot of time there.”

"It's alright. The ache doesn't trouble me much."

Ansik kisses him, and traces a hand over the red knees. “Even after hours?”

"I'm sure I could bear it."

“That may well get tested, if you’re not careful.” The hands begin creeping upwards, until he can touch and feel the still tender flesh left behind from last night. “It doesn’t do to get cocky.”

"No. Perhaps I ought to have a cushion."

“Mhmm, that’s what I thought.”

"Call me a quitter, I suppose."

"Not a quitter. No, you just know to listen to me, rather than you own opinions in the bedroom."

"Safer. You're right."

"I often am." He kisses Lyova, smiling at the red still ringing his throat. Lyova rubs at his throat barely conscious of the movement. "You like when I leave you all marked up, don't you?"

"I can't say I dislike it."

Ansik smiles, utterly smitten. "Then I ought to mark you enough you can't take your shirt off without people asking about them."

"They'll think I lost a terrible fight."

“Mmh, and only you will know the reality is more enjoyable.”

"That it's really lovely."

"That it's a product of love."

"Love, yes?"

He turns rather pink. "I- yes. Love. Is that too far?"

"It's quick. But is it incorrect... I don't think so."

“Lyova, darling, everything we’ve done so far has been quick.” A finger hooks through the ring on his collar, pulling him in close.

"It has, hasn't it? One might say hasty."

“I say fated.” He kisses Lyova again, long and wet. “And I’ll not give you up now.”

"No." He seems to soften again. "I won't be going anywhere."

“No, you certainly won’t. I won’t let you.”

"Keep me as long as you can."

“As long as I can? Oh, my dear boy, you misunderstand. I don’t let go of what belongs to me. Not ever.”

"You can't keep me here forever."

“I could, but it wouldn’t be pleasant.” He sounds so deadly serious, fingers still looped through the collar, holding him in place.

"You can't. They'd come looking."

“And they’d find my pretty pet, kept in a locked room. It wouldn’t be your fault at all.”

"They'd think it my fault."

“That you’re kept chained and locked in like a naughty dog?” His head cocks, curious. “It’s not as if you’d be able to leave.”

"They'd blame me for falling on such circumstances."

“They’d blame you for being kidnapped?” Horrified now.

"Most likely. A man should do better."

“A man, beaten and chained?”

"Is barely worthy of the name, they'd say."

Ansik makes a noise of shocked despair, face twisting.

"Oh, you've been living in a precious bubble."

“ My parents respect what it takes a man to submit so fully. Clearly, I was raised to do the same.”

"You were raised well."

“It seems the others who lay claim to you haven’t been.” He nearly spits the words.

"I wouldn't say so."

“Disgraceful. And they call themselves commanders.”

"Not all who wanted me to fuck them were officers."

“And yet it’s the officers who lead you around like cruel dogmasters.”

"It is, that."

“The officers, who would condemn you.” His grip gets tighter.

"Yes. It is."

“They don’t deserve to see the ground you walk on.”

"They say we're all equal these days. And feed those like me to the cannon."

“Even more reason you ought to be kept here!”

"I wish I could say yes."

And it flashes through Ansik’s mind. How even though Lev-Ninel is far stronger than him, he could probably drag him by the collar, do as he said, and chain him, keep him entirely. But it wouldn’t end well, and he knows that. Slowly, the hand in Lyova’s collar uncurls. “Then you’ll just have to send all your time off duty with me instead.”

"I will. I swear it."

“I’ll come find you if you don’t.”

"Good. If I don't, there's probably something keeping me."

“Then I’ll deal with whatever that is.” Whether it be knife or money, he’ll do whatever necessary to keep his Lyova.

"And I'll thank you for it."

Ansik kisses him again, smiling. “As you ought to, even if this is the minimum I should be providing.”

"I'll thank you nicely."

“ Even better.”

"The way you like it."

“I love that you already know the way I like it.”

"I think I do."

“And I haven’t even had you properly yet…”

"I'll learn how you like that too."

“Mnh, I think you have a few ideas of that already.” He nips at Lyova’s skin, leaving another small mark.

"Rough. But sweet too."

“Quite. I want to make sure you know just how deeply you’re mine. How much your pleasure is chosen by me. How wholly we fit.”

"We do, don't we? Shaped by the hand of fate. Ah, there we go."

"That we do." He smiles against Lyova's skin. "Just how much trouble would you get into for showing up with a neck covered in hickies?"

"Oh, that? A slap on the wrist."

" Good." Ansik very nearly attacks his neck, intent on leaving near no blank space.

And he groans, breathless.

"I'm going-" he moves to another section of Lyova's neck, "to turn you black and blue."

"You already halfway have. I can feel the burn."

"Mhg, I want it to hurt when you move your neck too fast."

"It will, I'm sure."

Ansik hums happily, continuing his mission. Already, half Lyova’s neck is darkened, and he won’t stop until he runs out of skin. It's going to hurt quite constantly. Exactly as Ansik wants. A constant reminder of who he belongs to. One everyone else can see. And everyone will see exactly what he's been doing. See how quickly he found someone to ruin him. And how thoroughly and willingly. Everyone will think him either a slut, or taken, both accurate. Taken so quickly, days into being here. Taken so fully, to be marked so thorough.

Let them think it, Lyova resolves. When finally, Ansik is pleased with his work, he leans back, admiring it. Prodding at it, running fingers over the tender flesh. Lyova winces. "Ouch. You've done thorough work."

"It won't fade for quite some time. Long enough for me to be able to mark you up all over again."

"And I'm sure you'll be eager."

"Of course! You're a beauty to bruise."

"Always bruised easy."

Ansik smiles, kissing him again, properly this time. "You really were made for me."

"A canvas for you to paint."

“Mn, you’re thinking of my family now, father is the painter, not I.”

"You're not an artist?"

“Oh certainly, but with my taxidermy. A bit of etching, on the side, but not enough to call anything worthy.”

"I'd like to see it some day."

“That’s easy enough to do, my work is just down the hall.” He kisses Lyova again, and peers at the clock. “Do you have time?”

"If we're quick."

Ansik beams, getting them up and tugging him gently along by the collar. “Right this way!”

He scrambles to his feet to follow.

“I ought to get you a leash for this…”

"Would make it easier."

“I’ll pull out some options for you to look through when you get home.”

"Home... that sounds lovely."

“Well what else would you call a house your owner lives and keeps you?” He stops them before a door, smiling.

"I'd call it home."

“Then it’s our home, and I’m glad to hear it.” He hopes it’ll stay that way once Lyova sees the dead animals behind the door. Lyova's eyes widen when he does. Ansik leads him inside, turning on various lights. “Here we are. My passion, my work, my soul.”

It takes him a moment to respond. Long enough to set Ansik wondering. To get him biting his lip, already starting to just barely sketch out the way he’ll preserve and position Lyova.

And then Lyova says "it's beautiful".

Ansik’s heart stutters, jolts, and skips back to life. “You really like them?”

"They're wonders."

He nearly jumps Lyova, he’s so excited to catch the man in another kiss. Lyova grins against it. “Thank you love. Truly.”

"I never liked taxidermy before."

“Really? And being in a room surrounded by them changed your mind?”

"These ones look... fluid. Not an insult to the animal."

Ansik could swoon. “That’s what I strive for, to preserve them as they are in life. Alive, dynamic!”

"I can see it!"

“No one else has, not that quickly.”

"Really? It seems quite obvious."

“Most only see the death, then mutilation.”

"I don't think of death like that."

“Then you think of it a far smarter way than the baboons in town.”

"A thing is going to die anyway. This way, something of them will be preserved. So long as you didn't make the death unnecessarily painful."

Ansik shakes his head. “No, that would make the art harder.”

"I thought so."

“If it’s slow, painful, they struggle. Makes for a messier pelt.”

"I'd imagine. So, you make it quick?"

“Of course. I pride myself on my work. Clean skins are a necessity.”

"Of course. And they're beautiful work."

He kisses Lyova again, surrounded by glass eyes watching them, even more adoring than five minutes past. And Lyova kisses him back, seeming unafraid.

“I could teach you, sometime, if you wished.”

"I think I would."

He beams, thrilled. “We’ll make a date of it then.”

"A date with you sounds perfect."

“Oh, we’ll have plenty of those,” Ansik purrs, nuzzling against him.

"This one sounds especially perfect."

“I’ll walk you through every step, don’t you worry.”

"Thank you. I won't be much good at first."

“That’s alright, no one is.” His hands crawl lower down Lyova’s spine. “Unless of course you want be to be cross with you over it.”

"I don't much desire it."

“No, you like being a good boy don’t you?”

"I do." He says, and doesn't even cringe.

Ansik nods, hands curling possessively around Lyova’s waist. “Then there’s no reason for me to be upset when you do your best.”

"And I will, I'll do my best."

Another kiss. “You’ll do just perfectly then.”

"I won't make too much a mess."

“Even if you do, that’s what the drain is for.”

"For cleaning up?"

“For washing all the blood down, yes.”

"Did you build them?"

“The drainage system? Oh heavens no. Papa helped draw up the plans and we paid to have them constructed.”

"Much more pleasant."

“ Quite. Can you even imagine me digging all that out? No.”

"No, not even I can imagine myself."

“It’s nasty business. At least we got it completed before all the outrage over digging started back up.”

"Is that a problem here?"

“Oh yes, it’s quite the taboo. Something about hurting the child earth mother.”

"Sounds a strange religion indeed."

“Never much understood it myself.”

"You don't adhere to it?"

“Not in the slightest. It’s some Steppe belief. Not anything I have any reason to follow.”

"You're not of the Steppe people. I didn't think so, and after all, we're all Soviet, but it isn't nice to assume."

He leans in close, “truth be told I don’t know that they realize they’re Soviets now. We’re so far from everything out here.”

"Somebody will inform them soon, I'm sure."

“I don’t mean to say they’re against it,” a lie, but he doesn’t actually wish to get them in trouble. “Moreso that no one has elucidated the finer points of our shared citizenship.”

"It's understandable, in places such as this."

“And they aren’t hurting anyone.”

"I won't cause any trouble."

“Good boy.” Ansik smiles again.

"Not in your hometown."

“You’re so sweet.”

"I don't want to make things sour."

“I’m sure they’d appreciate such. I appreciate such.”

"And that's what matters."

“Sweet-talker,” he coos, immensely pleased.

"Only to you."

“Such a lovely boy you are. My Lyova.”

"All and only yours."

“If only I didn’t have to share you with the damn army.”

"There is that."

“After the war, you’ll near never leave my sight again.”

"If not for the war, we'd never have met."

“And for that singular fact I’m grateful to it, but you’ll be lucky to not be leashed to my side after.”

"I certainly hope so."

“Could keep you like that…. My pretty puppy, almost.”

"Is that how you'd like me?"

“On your knees at my side? Sometimes.” A finger hooks through the collar’s ring, tugging. “You’d be so gorgeous with a short leash from here to my belt.”

"I wouldn't mind it sometimes."

Ansik smiles. “Such a lovely boy. I wonder how you’d react to being walked, hand and knees, on a leash. I could parade you around town….”

"We'll see."

“Aw, are you being shy?”

"I want to be for your eyes."

“And I want to show you off. My well behaved, gorgeous boy.”

"You'll have to get me accustomed to it, too."

That makes him light up, plans already forming. “Little things to start with, and soon enough I’ll have you naked in the streets.”

"Precisely. I can do it that way."

“In that case, you’re not to wear your drawers under your uniform today.”

"Very well. I won't."

“And every time you feel your prick brush against the seam of your trousers, you think of how it’s because of me. Of what all I’m going to do to that prick in the future.”

"I couldn't avoid it."

“Mhm, so go enjoy your day on duty half hard.”

"I do have to go."

“Loathsome as it is…” Ansik leads him back to the bedroom, sorting through their pile of clothes, and taking Lyova’s underwear home himself.

Lyova dresses carefully in the rest of his uniform. "A kiss for the road?"

“Of course.” Ansik pulls him in tight, the kiss deep and messy and owning. Only ending when he unbuckles the collar. “I expect that back on when you come home.”

"And so you shall have."

“Good boy.” He stares appreciatively at the band of bare skin, wanting to lick across it. Lyova turns to go. And looks back. Ansik blows him a kiss, smiling, even though he hates to part. Lyova blows one back, and goes.

Gets a few whistles as he walks into camp. He's smiling, giddy. Over the moon, even as he gets called at the way the working girls do. And plays and pretends to flirt back, fake and saccharine.

Until he gets stopped, his neck inspected. “Just what do you call this?”

"Out of uniform." He admits.

That gets him a laugh. “I would have said impressive.”

"She's a biter." He laughs.

“Managed to find someone that eager this soon?”

"Had some luck last night."

“See to it the rest of you is impeccable, and I’ll let it slide, yeah? So long as you tell us all about her at mess.”

"Will do. Thank you, sir."

“Run along then, you know your duties.”

He does so quite promptly. More of his comrades comment on the marks, and more than one gives him companionable slaps to the back, landing heavy on the mess of marks Ansik left the night before. He doesn't wince. He had a mouthy girl, that's all. It wouldn’t do to give away that anything else happened. No. Would open too many questions.

Even here, he’s being crowed around, asked ‘what was her cunt like, Lev?”

He laughs, and says it was wonderful. When they press, it’s with the lewd want of those who weren’t able to find a partner of their own.

"There's plenty of pretty girls in town." Lev says.

"Aahh, but you got into one of them!"

"Didn't say with high standards."

He gets an uproar to that, riotous laughing heard across the camp. And smiles, just a little, at that.

"Come now, you know you have a prettier mug than most of us 'round here!"

"Some girls like pretty."

"That's why he managed a date and you didn't," someone shouts.

"Just lucky." Lev insists.

"Pretty posterboy~" another coos, overly saccharine, teasing.

Lev playfully strikes a pose. A towel snaps out, hitting his backside with a laugh. The way boys-turned-men play, teasing and roughhousing despite their age. And he laughs back. Taking it as well. Despite the beating the night before, despite all the things he can’t say. He's still just a boy with his friends. Once trying so hard to be liked. And seeming for it to work some. Like it hadn't when he was smaller. It turns out being pretty does help. Being pretty, and attempting to be sociable. Being just right. Quite the opposite of Ansik. In the light of day, it's all the more obvious. He shines, the way many don’t.

Of course, Ansik hangs around to get a glimpse of him. Skulks at the perimeter of the encampment, eyes searching for that golden hair. Sees him, in the midst of a group. Smiling, and adored. Natural. Every bit the Soviet dream. Every bit the opposite of Anastasiy. It would be humorous if it didn’t ache so much. It would be so easy to hate him. So impossible. Instead he’s filled with awe that it’s he who gets to see Lyova stripped down and raw. He who gets to make him shatter and cry. He who has the privilege of putting him back together with tender love. Someone so beautiful, so wanted. So perfect. And Lev-Ninel had chosen him. Despite everything that says it should be otherwise.

Ansik watches as long as he can, before slipping away to the pub. The one that’ll actually serve him. Gets a couple drinks, maybe more than is reasonable this early. But he wants to ride this happy buzz, make it last. To feel light and happy and good. He’s floating and a bit stumbly all the way home. And Lev-Ninel comes knocking that night.

Ansik opens the door, still euphoric, grinning when he sees his boy. And Lev matches his grin. "It's good to see you."

He reaches up to pull Lev into a kiss by the collar. Lev goes easy, with a little groan.

“I missed you,” he breathes.

"I was barely gone."

“Still. You weren’t here.”

"No." He says gently. "I suppose I wasn't."

“How was your time with your comrades?”

"They wanted to know all about my girl."

He nips at Lyova’s lips, smiling. “And what did you say?”

"That she's lovely. Black hair. Great in bed. Likes to bite."

“That much they must have seen,” he laughs, rubbing his whole front against Lev’s.

"They did, so I made it lewd."

“Mh, not inaccurate of you either.”

"You don't mind being cast as a girl?"

He smiles. “I used to use Nastya. Until too many were unhappy to find me.”

"I wouldn't mind. It'd be a relief."

“Oh, I’m sure it would be.” He nips again at his lover’s skin. “You could use such for me as well, if it makes things easier with them.”

"I might just. Nastya."

“Mnm, just for you.”

"Would you have need to lie about me?"

“Not much of one. But if you’d rather I do….?”

"No. Don't, if it isn't needed."

Ansik smiles. "I won't then."