Fic: Spies Do It Better 2 of 25
Title: Spies Do It Better
Author: rufferto and kitty_trio
Fandom: Bourne Supremacy
Characters: Jason Bourne/Kirill
Prompt: #12 Hurt
Word Count: 4920
Rating: NC-17 for adult slash situations
Disclaimer: It’s Fiction! Never happened. All lies from troubled minds. We do not own Jason, Kirill or any characters from the Bourne universe. Other characters are figments of vivid imaginations, any similarity to persons real or fictitious is merely incidental. No money made from this fantasy.
Author's Notes: Two young guns in spy school will not only learn to become lovers and assassins, but 'do it' against a backdrop of fluffy snags along the way.
This came from Karl’s comments about a running joke on the set that Kirill shot Jason’s girlfriend in Goa because the two had a ‘thing’ whilst in spy school together. Written for the 25fluffyfics Challenge.
Click button for our Fluffy Table:
Banner manip as always, made lovingly by rufferto
Prompt 12: Hurt
Kirill’s eyes pop open in the pre-dawn greyness as something small and warm moves down his body. When he feels more than hears the purr, he remembers the kitten, Percy. A rare but bothersome morning erection twitches when a bit of soft fur nestles against it.
A sharp pain to his groin has him lurching off the bed, then back down with a hand cupped to the area.
He actually had been sleeping well, for once, and generally Jason has difficulty with that. His brain moved at too fast a speed sometimes. When he woke it was always out of a deep sleep, his subconscious mind always alerting him to the time he needed to rise. This time however, what woke him was a loud yelp of pain and a yowl. Something soft and fuzzy had landed next to his side and he sat up in confusion. When he looks over at his roommate, the other man was groaning in pain, and holding his crotch. Jason’s eyes widen as he looks from the seemingly innocent, disgruntled kitten, to the furious Kirill. “You know, if you like to torture those bits, I can think of better ways than using a kitten.”
Kirill groans and rolls his eyes at his roommate. Worried that Percy was injured from his launching her across the room, he crawls over to the other bed. Each shuffle forward a spike of pain radiates from sensitive flesh, and he grits his teeth against it. The kitten eyes him warily but allows him to pick her up and feel for any sore limbs. That’s when the dark haired youth notices a bit of blood on his hand.
Jason yawns and rubs his face. He also sees the blood. “Kirill, you’d better let me take a look at that. There’s a first aid box in the kitchen. I’ll get it, you stay there.” He jumps to his feet before Kirill can move again and is off to find the box. It’s just about then he remembers there isn’t supposed to be an animal in the small apartment. “Hey, get that thing off my bed. Where’d it come from?”
“Is fine, only scratch.” Kirill’s voice is raspy with pain and disrupted sleep. He turns to place Percy back on his pillow, wincing by the time Bourne returns with the kit.
"Don't be stupid, you certainly don't want to get that area infected." Jason sits down. "Lie down and let me take a look at it."
Kirill grudgingly agrees and shifts to perch uneasily on Bourne’s bed. He widens his legs to look at the damage. There is smeared blood along his thigh and his shaft, and he gasps when Jason pushes his fingers out of the way.
What on earth was he thinking? Jason suddenly realizes as Kirill reveals a particular length of flesh he’d been longing to touch for months. He wills his body to calm and tries to look at things from a clinical point of view. With a heavy sigh, he gently moves his finger up to see what damage there is to the lengthy cock. He lifts his eyes to the Russian once or twice as he inspects the wound.
Kirill blushes scarlet unable to hide his body's response. Thankfully the scratch only caught the sensitive skin high on inner thigh and one pinprick to sac, or the blood rushing south would surely be even more painful.
Jason eases himself closer, God it's beautiful. He draws his finger up and down the long length, wondering what it felt like, what it tasted like. "I think you'll be fine." He declares, but he does not stop what he's doing.
Kirill's eyes are half closed as he watches and feels the gentle strokes. His hips want to lift and invite more exploration, but early life lessons keep him utterly still, only his eyes reflect his arousal and surprise at the delicious sensation of someone else’s hand on him.
Jason holds Kirill's eyes, trying to read them, needing to read them. "Kirill..." He swallows. His fingers trace the head of the swelling shaft and pull down it once again. He wonders what Kirill looks like when he smiles. It's odd to note that he hasn't seen Kirill smile yet. "Do you want me to stop?"
Kirill’s eyes fly to Jason’s confusion and desire evident on his face. Stop? Why was he asking and not just taking what he wanted. No he did not want the strokes to cease, but feared what would be required of him in payment. His tongue snakes out to wet dry lips and he shakes his head no, once.
Jason smiles, sort of like the kind of smile of a kid in a candy store. Eager to please, his strokes become more earnest now. He doesn't want to talk but he has to say something. "Have you done this before? I mean, I have once or twice." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I mean with a guy..."
It takes all of Kirill’s concentration to keep from reaching out to the youth, but he’d not been given permission. Shocked misunderstanding plays across his features, “You? A… a…” a sigh of frustration as he searches for the right word, “buy… for lease?” is all he can manage as it seems his brain cells are following the path of his blood.
Jason's cheek dimples. "Touch me if you want to." He offers, fingers continuing their quest to thoroughly please the hard cock. He decides it must just be a language barrier because he does not understand what Kirill is saying.
A tentative hand snakes out to feather through the fringe on Jason’s brow. Soft, and the skin beneath: warm and smooth, Kirill’s long fingers run along the shell of one ear. A myriad of emotions glitter in his darkening eyes as he wonders how the boy could’ve had others use his body, yet retain his youthful exuberance.
Jason gazes at Kirill, mesmerized by his eyes. What was he thinking? He turns his head to kiss the fingers that graze him lightly. An unconscious thing, the kiss. His hand works over the shaft, moving even closer as his free hand reaches then hesitates. What did this mean? They were about to cross the threshold of friendship into something entirely different. Friendship? Were they even friends?
Kirill gasps at the kiss snatching his hand away. They have ventured into a realm completely foreign to quiet man. The steady pace on his straining erection is not allowing him to reason what is happening. All he wants is to revel in the pleasure the sandy haired boy is giving him. “Please… may I?” he dares to beg.
Jason wonders what Kirill is referring to, curiosity gets the better of him and he has to oblige. "Yes." He works faster on the aching cock in his hand. The expressions and the sounds he hears spurring him on. It's foreign and beautiful and he can't stop it. He doesn't care that they are both in a profession of death. This is precious time, and he'd rather spend it like this than lying awake always wondering what could have been. "Yes." he nods firmly.
Kirill joins his hand with Jason’s for the last few tugs. Permission granted his climax seems to rush through every vein in its race out of his body. He holds himself rigidly and bites into his fist to remain as still and quiet as possible when his release pumps from his body. Cupping his palm to contain the spurts, he watches in fascination as Jason continues to softly stroke him through the after shocks. Bourne’s face is stretched into one of his smiles and his eyes are soft with some unknown emotion. It’s as if he derived as much pleasure from this as Kirill. There must be some other explanation his fuzzy brain can’t fathom.
Looking for a towel or rag to wipe his hand, Kirill notices the erection tenting the American’s shorts. Of course, he hasn’t reciprocated. It has been too many years removed since he’d last been with a client. Some reactions were ingrained; others have blurred and faded over time. Shuttering the shame and confusion that must be plain on his face, Kirill lowers his head and mumbles an apology for seeing to his own needs first.
Jason's eyes widen. He wasn't sure where this reaction was coming from. He thought he was detecting shame. "Hey." He shifts an arm around Kirill's shoulders and smiles. "Hey, it's fine." He shakes his head. "You don't have to if you don't want to." He removes his hand reluctantly to finger the pocket on Kirill's shirt. "You have to admit, that took your mind off the pain." He grins encouragingly, hoping to get a smile.
One corner of Kirill’s mouth quirks before he sobers and responds to the first statement, “No, I must complete.” Hoping he could finish the task manually or orally he shifts to let Bourne lean back on the bed. From beneath his lashes he gauges Bourne’s reactions as he palms the long ridge under the thin cotton. “How do you require relief?”
How do I? Jason abruptly sits up and simply stares at Kirill for a moment. His hand moves and lifts the other’s chin up to force Kirill to look at him. “Kirill, will you just relax for a minute. I said you didn’t have to and you don’t. I want you to, but only if it’s what you want. Hell.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “You can just lie here with me, or go over to your own bed, or I don’t know. I don’t know what this is at all. I don’t require relief. Fuck, only about twice have I ever done this before, and that was with a cousin of mine. We were pretty drunk. I’m not drunk now, Kirill, and I know what I want, and what I want is you. The question is, do you want me?” Having spoken so much in a rush, the American gasps for a breath.
Kirill tries to resist the firm hand on his chin. Yes, he wants, but only knows what he was taught so long ago. The six months spent sharing this space with the American have awakened desires and needs he never knew he was capable of. Two spots of color appear high on his cheeks when he realizes Bourne was referring now and earlier to sexual encounters with lovers, not nameless men in a cold dark room. “I am… was…” he growls the last, “whore. Only know how to bring relief.” He stands to pace away from the blond. “I want, but know nothing else.” He confesses in a whisper.
Jason’s expression varies throughout that entire revelation. He’s not quite sure what to say in response. Kirill has finally shared something of his past, of himself and he does not know how to take it. “Kirill, please join me.” He offers, holding out his hand. “Just come lie down here with me for a moment.”
Having revealed a piece of his past only his patron knew about, Kirill clamps his mouth shut. The kitten yawns and stretches from her prime position on Kirill’s pillow. He heads toward her, stops to pull on a pair of sweat pants from his footlocker, and then picks her up to double check that she was still unhurt from him launching her across the room. He can fairly feel the questions rattling around in the young American’s head. Questions he cannot answer. Cradling the tiny creature against his thumping heart, Kirill glances briefly at Bourne. He lowers his head breathing in the warm smell of the purring beast. “I do not understand this… this wanting. No matter how much I run to exhaustion, it does not cease.” Kirill says haltingly. “My body craves, but I do not know how to feel.”
Jason shifts to give Kirill more room on the small bed. Patiently he waits for Kirill to make the decision. "Hey, we all have secrets Kirill. Thing is, that's the past, and who cares about that now? You made your life something else." He halts on the word better because this is no life. He knows it well. He chose this to forget. "We're not angels, and its not love. It's need. I need you, and you need me. It’s alright."
Absently scratching Percy behind one ear and under her chin, Kirill acknowledges the veracity of why the twenty-odd trainees either joined the program or were recruited with a nod of his head. He was here to hone skills he’d learned in the employ of his patron on the rough streets of his homeland. Until the strange craving his young roommate stirred, the Russian thought he’d left the child he once was far behind in that small dark room. Emotions and desires were for others, like this young American. “I do not want this ‘need’, but cannot control it.” He lifts puzzled eyes to Jason, leant calmly and casually on the bed. “How are you calm, if this need is eating at your nerves?” Kirill asks about the sensations coursing through his body, making him feel twitchy and out of control.
Jason’s eyes track Kirill as he paces, finally he whips out a hand and hooks a finger into a pocket of the sweats his friend had put on. Jason has always been amazingly quick. “Hold on.” He kneels on the bed, still maintaining his grasp on Kirill. “Who said I was calm?” His lips quirking, he reaches over and traces Kirill’s belly button. “I’m just very good at hiding it…”
Percy was surprisingly unperturbed by the abrupt halting of Kirill’s movement. She eyes Jason suspiciously, one paw halfheartedly stretching to try and bat at his finger.
Still grinning, he looks up at the elder, eyes bright in the moonlight. Outside, the rain is calming down.
Kirill’s eyes go wide as he stares into the blatant need and desire on Bourne’s face. Unbidden his body leans into the soft touches. “I… I know only what taught,” his cheeks pink with the strange itchy feeling coursing through his veins. “I show you.” Settling the kitten gently back on Kirill’s bed after a last tickle to her soft belly, the young Russian kneels next to the other bed and again palms Bourne’s arousal. His eyes fly up to Jason’s face once at the initial gasp, and then lower to his task of stroking the thickening length to full arousal.
Jason parts his legs on either side of Kirill and suddenly leans forward and kisses the Russian full on the lips. He lifts his hips into the touch and allows a soft purr of content which makes Percy lift her head and stare at Jason. When they part for breath, the smaller man smiles. "I only know what I want and that is for you to do only what you want to do. See I want to do this." He kisses Kirill's jaw softly. "And this..." He kisses his cheek, then neck.
Kirill tenses at the kiss, only ingrained lessons keep his hand moving on the bourgeoning cotton covered flesh, and innate control keep him from fleeing the sensation of lips against his. Shudders wrack his body when the soft lips move down. A nip to the cords of his neck cause him to squeeze too tight, and another, harder nip results. It’s enough to break the spell the young American is weaving around him. Kirill backs out of Bourne’s range and slowly but surely pulls the boy’s boxers down and off. The golden hair and golden skin of Jason’s legs draw his gaze until he reaches the contrast of paler flesh above the tan and the twitching rod nestled in dark blond curls. His tongue licks out to wet dry lips before he lowers his head to swipe his tongue from root to tip.
Jason’s hands are in Kirill’s hair then down his back, and up. “Jesus.” He whispers. “Kirill…” His legs slide further apart and he groans inwardly. “God, I knew there was a reason you had such an amazing tongue. Uhhhn….” His cock hardens instantly, aching for release. His fingers encounter the tight thong that keeps Kirill’s hair banded neatly and he longs to untwine it. “Your hair…can I take it out?” He rasps.
Intent on his task of swirling his tongue around the tip, Kirill concentrates on controlling his own mounting arousal. The clean soap and sun smell and taste of Jason fill his senses. His blood roaring in his ears closes Kirill off from anything else but the cock he’s slowly guiding to the back of his throat. Only when his tightly bound hair is released does he rear up and feel Bourne’s fingers against his scalp. “Why?” He shakes a lock out of his face, “now in the way.” His puzzled eyes bore into the others.
“Because I wanted to touch it. It’s not in the way, it’s beautiful.” He purrs, fingers threading through the long locks ardently. “Silky when it’s still damp.” He lifts it to his nose and smells it, rubbing the lock against his cheek. “Beautiful.” He twitches, Kirill’s breath warm on his cockhead. He knows it’s not going to take too long, just the idea of being within those sultry lips is enough to make him come right then and there.
Kirill rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath at the complements and silly reasoning. He wraps long fingers around the base of Bourne’s shaft and slides it past his lips. His tongue swirls on the down stroke and his cheeks hollow as he sucks on the way back up. Bourne’s hips are clearing the bed, rocking to the rhythm he’s set. The balls are drawing taut in the furred sac against the back of his palm. Kirill sucks in a deep breath through his nose and swallows until the boy’s cock head is nudging the back of his throat.
Neither youth is aware they have an audience who’s bored with being ignored. Getting no response from rubbing against her dark savior’s pant leg, Percy jumps to the blond’s bed to nudge that one’s hip and voice her displeasure in a loud high pitched meow.
Jason twitches at the sound, but he’s too lost in the pleasure Kirill is creating. He swallows low and falls back against the cushions, narrowly missing the kitten. He whines as his cock is fully engulfed within the other’s mouth. “Damn Cat is back on my bed.” He complains as he gropes for the kitten to encourage her off his bed. This only tempts Percy to play with his fingers. Fingers he’d rather have curling through Kirill’s hair.
Kirill growls around the thick rod, shoving hair behind an ear and reaching blindly for the kitten. Bourne was so close to completion, the last thing he needed was a scratch to sensitive flesh similar to Kirill’s. He’s only able to grab the four tiny paws and hold the ball of silky fur against Jason’s hip, all the while continuing to bob his head in time to Bourne’s thrusts. A few flicks of his tongue and the boy’s hot seed is pulsing down his throat.
Jason gasps and writhes, causing an irritated kitten to finally huff and go lap at some milk because her ‘humans’ were too busy. Jason whimpers, as the aftershocks of his completion ripple through him. It’s been a while since he was brought to this kind reward, so close. He can barely think let alone talk. All he can do is reach for Kirill.
Kirill stays to lick the softening rod clean, letting the young American come down from his high of release. He’d let go of Percy when her struggles increased, not wanting to hurt her, and thankful she had left the bed. Kirill raises his head dragging both hands through his hair, looking around for the band to contain it.
Jason reaches for Kirill’s hands, “Leave it.” He finally catches his breath and searches the other’s eyes. “No one’s done anything quite like that for me before, Kirill.” He draws those hands to his lips and kisses the fingertips lightly. He doesn’t know what else to say, only that he does not want to lose the warmth of Kirill’s body so soon.
Eyes wide and dark in confusion and arousal, Kirill licks at his swollen lips before using the unruly locks to hide his face. The touching of those soft lips to his skin is doing strange things in the pit of his stomach, and he needs to escape to regain some control over his body. “No. Must run. Itchy.” He whispers, leaning back on his heels beside the bed.
“Please don’t.” Jason keeps hold of his hands. “Stay. It’s alright, Kirill. It is. Hey.” He smiles, “Hey, you can’t give a guy the greatest blow job in his life and then go out for a run. That’s just not nice.” He laughs softly, trying to put Kirill at ease. “Please?”
One corner of Kirill’s mouth lifts at the complement, but why Bourne would want him to stay is beyond his understanding. “You done… I finished.” His lowered gaze lights on Bourne’s boxers and reaches out to hand them to the boy. “Why stay?” the exasperated huff from above brings the Russian’s head up, unless the American wants to… Kirill shudders and his shoulders slump. “I… have not… many years…” he stutters, head nearly lowered to his chest. The kitten wanders back into his line of sight and he latches on to her tightly. “Please… not… not yet.”
"Huh?" Jason's mouth opens as he takes the boxers and tosses them aside. His hands rest on Kirill's shoulders. "No, uh. I don't. I haven't." He stutters a laugh, "Uh. You don't think I want to? No. This is fine. This is enough." He swallows. "I just want to hold you. But not if, not if you don't want to. I understand." He tries to hide the hurt with a grin. "I'm fine. It's good. It was good. Hey, it was more than good. You didn't have to. "
The hands on his shoulders burn and the nerve endings beneath have his flesh twitching. Kirill ponders the boy’s wanting to touch and hold. Both had brought each other to completion and thankfully nothing further is going to happen. The position he’s knelt in has the cat scratch to his thigh throbbing despite his current arousal. Percy was again squirming in his arms trying to burrow into the neck of his shirt. “She’ll need food… uh… bathroom… uh” he tries to search for the word he wants. “Not let her out until bigger,” the kitten’s needs he can deal with, the American he can’t.
“Fine.” Jason nods, “Fine it’s alright.” He releases his hold on Kirill’s shoulders. One hand reaches up to brush the hair from the other’s face and stroke the cheek gently. “Just um. Just, I’m here. You know? I’d really like this to be. I don’t know. Silly.” He tries a short laugh, his defense through humor.
Kirill huffs his own exasperated sigh as he rises from the floor. The humor, sarcastic humor, Bourne was upset about something, that much Kirill had learned about the youth. His brain was too muzzy from arousal and the itchy feelings under his skin and in his gut, to reason why. Until he could find a proper box and filling he takes Percy in the tiny bathroom and grabs a couple small towels. Recollecting what fellow denizens of the streets -long before the years in the dark room- had done for feral kittens, Kirill dampen one towel in warm water and places the kitten on the floor of the shower with the other one slightly bunched up. It takes only a couple swipes across her bottom before she is piddling with what looks like a smile on her tiny face.
Jason lies where he is in bed. He’s tugged his shorts back on and his hands are resting behind his head. It was mystifying how Kirill can be so absolutely unawares of his own appeal. He has never in his life felt so relaxed. Closing his eyes he can still feel that warm mouth wrapped around him to the hilt, how soft Kirill’s hair is, how smooth his skin, how his lips tasted. The blonde snorts to himself, he couldn’t possibly be falling for the man? No, he didn’t do love. He glances over to where Kirill is working with the kitten, admiring his form as he bends down. He calls over, “Hey, are you coming to bed?”
Kirill ignores the joking youth. While Percy continues to take care of her business, he searches the medicine cabinet for anti-septic. A bottle of iodine and a square of cotton gauze will have to do. He lowers his pants and turns to get the best light on the scratched area. A low stream of expletives follows his liberally swabbing the area. The burn does help diminish his erection. Percy is enthusiastically trying to bury her deposit with a corner of the towel, he scoops her out of the stall and nudges her out to re-fill her belly with milk. He flushes what he can, and re-positions the towel in case she needs it later. Only after he washes up and looks in the kitchen for some kind of meat to mash into the milk, does Kirill realize he still hasn’t contained his hair. Another eye roll is directed at his roommate as he tucks errant strands behind his ears.
Jason shifts, glancing up at Kirill with a hopeful look he cannot seem to stop from reaching his eyes. For some reason, he has a hard time shielding emotion from Kirill. “You going to put me out of my misery and let me get some sleep?” He wonders.
Kirill snorts, finding a tin of tuna and rattles noisily in a drawer for the opener. Once the lid is pierced he has Percy attached high on a calf and clawing her way higher. She does not seem impressed by his growl so he directs a louder one to the guffaws coming from the beds. Kirill peals the kitten claw by claw out of his sweats and places her in the sink blocking the drain so she couldn’t harm herself. Percy’s yowling and his hair in his eyes has him gritting his teeth in frustration. Only after the bit of fluff is lapping away at her meal can he escape to the bathroom again to check on the new wounds and finally -after another fierce stare to the blond- twist his hair into some sort of order.
“I like it down.” Jason complains, holding his sides from the effort to stop from laughing. “She just likes to claw into your flesh, doesn’t she?” He teases. “You had to open the can of tuna. That’s a sure fire way to get a cat in a frenzy if there ever was one.” He knows that Kirill is trying desperately to avoid coming back into the small bedroom with him and deep down wishes there was a better way of putting him at ease.
His partially dry hair makes it harder to contain the wavy mass. If not for the fact the length was an act of defiance against his long ago keepers, he would have kept it shorn close to his head. The iodine is used liberally again, and just his luck trails of it run down his leg to pool on the floor. A quick scoop in the nick of time keeps the curious kitty out of the medication. She is deposited on his shoulder where she promptly catches her claws in his hair tugging strands from the rubber bands. He is too tired and his brain to busy going over all the event of the night for Kirill to bother with it again. He stomps back to his bed and climbs in with a deep sigh, Percy of course taking up most of his pillow.
Jason looks over at Kirill and gives him a hurt expression. “What? You choose a kitten over me.” He folds his arms across his chest and pretends to sulk.
Kirill snorts again, rolling his eyes. He slides a protective arm around his small charge, hoping to gain a few hours of uneventful sleep.
Jason heaves a sigh. "Anyone would think you didn't like me." He reaches over to turn off the bedroom light. "And what's not to like?"
“Talk too much.”
"Well, maybe that's because someone hasn't figured out a way to put my mouth to a better use." Jason counters, snickering.
Kirill snorts again, and then recalls the American’s allergies. A hand stretches out with kitten attached “You sleep with, hold.” The expected sneezing fit would be easier to ignore than the mouth.
"No!" Jason shakes his head vehemently. Then he pauses. "Kirill....? Did you just make a joke?"
A flash of white teeth and glitter of dark green eyes is the only response as Percy is snuggled back in her prime spot.
“You did! And you do have a sense of humor. I knew it.” Jason laughs softly and yawns hugely. “One of these days I am going to make you laugh, I swear I will.” He yawns again and stretches his legs. “Good night, Kirill.”
Kirill grunts and closes his eyes to the sound of purrs and smell of tuna breath.
TBC
Author: rufferto and kitty_trio
Fandom: Bourne Supremacy
Characters: Jason Bourne/Kirill
Prompt: #12 Hurt
Word Count: 4920
Rating: NC-17 for adult slash situations
Disclaimer: It’s Fiction! Never happened. All lies from troubled minds. We do not own Jason, Kirill or any characters from the Bourne universe. Other characters are figments of vivid imaginations, any similarity to persons real or fictitious is merely incidental. No money made from this fantasy.
Author's Notes: Two young guns in spy school will not only learn to become lovers and assassins, but 'do it' against a backdrop of fluffy snags along the way.
This came from Karl’s comments about a running joke on the set that Kirill shot Jason’s girlfriend in Goa because the two had a ‘thing’ whilst in spy school together. Written for the 25fluffyfics Challenge.
Click button for our Fluffy Table:
Banner manip as always, made lovingly by rufferto
Prompt 12: Hurt
Kirill’s eyes pop open in the pre-dawn greyness as something small and warm moves down his body. When he feels more than hears the purr, he remembers the kitten, Percy. A rare but bothersome morning erection twitches when a bit of soft fur nestles against it.
A sharp pain to his groin has him lurching off the bed, then back down with a hand cupped to the area.
He actually had been sleeping well, for once, and generally Jason has difficulty with that. His brain moved at too fast a speed sometimes. When he woke it was always out of a deep sleep, his subconscious mind always alerting him to the time he needed to rise. This time however, what woke him was a loud yelp of pain and a yowl. Something soft and fuzzy had landed next to his side and he sat up in confusion. When he looks over at his roommate, the other man was groaning in pain, and holding his crotch. Jason’s eyes widen as he looks from the seemingly innocent, disgruntled kitten, to the furious Kirill. “You know, if you like to torture those bits, I can think of better ways than using a kitten.”
Kirill groans and rolls his eyes at his roommate. Worried that Percy was injured from his launching her across the room, he crawls over to the other bed. Each shuffle forward a spike of pain radiates from sensitive flesh, and he grits his teeth against it. The kitten eyes him warily but allows him to pick her up and feel for any sore limbs. That’s when the dark haired youth notices a bit of blood on his hand.
Jason yawns and rubs his face. He also sees the blood. “Kirill, you’d better let me take a look at that. There’s a first aid box in the kitchen. I’ll get it, you stay there.” He jumps to his feet before Kirill can move again and is off to find the box. It’s just about then he remembers there isn’t supposed to be an animal in the small apartment. “Hey, get that thing off my bed. Where’d it come from?”
“Is fine, only scratch.” Kirill’s voice is raspy with pain and disrupted sleep. He turns to place Percy back on his pillow, wincing by the time Bourne returns with the kit.
"Don't be stupid, you certainly don't want to get that area infected." Jason sits down. "Lie down and let me take a look at it."
Kirill grudgingly agrees and shifts to perch uneasily on Bourne’s bed. He widens his legs to look at the damage. There is smeared blood along his thigh and his shaft, and he gasps when Jason pushes his fingers out of the way.
What on earth was he thinking? Jason suddenly realizes as Kirill reveals a particular length of flesh he’d been longing to touch for months. He wills his body to calm and tries to look at things from a clinical point of view. With a heavy sigh, he gently moves his finger up to see what damage there is to the lengthy cock. He lifts his eyes to the Russian once or twice as he inspects the wound.
Kirill blushes scarlet unable to hide his body's response. Thankfully the scratch only caught the sensitive skin high on inner thigh and one pinprick to sac, or the blood rushing south would surely be even more painful.
Jason eases himself closer, God it's beautiful. He draws his finger up and down the long length, wondering what it felt like, what it tasted like. "I think you'll be fine." He declares, but he does not stop what he's doing.
Kirill's eyes are half closed as he watches and feels the gentle strokes. His hips want to lift and invite more exploration, but early life lessons keep him utterly still, only his eyes reflect his arousal and surprise at the delicious sensation of someone else’s hand on him.
Jason holds Kirill's eyes, trying to read them, needing to read them. "Kirill..." He swallows. His fingers trace the head of the swelling shaft and pull down it once again. He wonders what Kirill looks like when he smiles. It's odd to note that he hasn't seen Kirill smile yet. "Do you want me to stop?"
Kirill’s eyes fly to Jason’s confusion and desire evident on his face. Stop? Why was he asking and not just taking what he wanted. No he did not want the strokes to cease, but feared what would be required of him in payment. His tongue snakes out to wet dry lips and he shakes his head no, once.
Jason smiles, sort of like the kind of smile of a kid in a candy store. Eager to please, his strokes become more earnest now. He doesn't want to talk but he has to say something. "Have you done this before? I mean, I have once or twice." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I mean with a guy..."
It takes all of Kirill’s concentration to keep from reaching out to the youth, but he’d not been given permission. Shocked misunderstanding plays across his features, “You? A… a…” a sigh of frustration as he searches for the right word, “buy… for lease?” is all he can manage as it seems his brain cells are following the path of his blood.
Jason's cheek dimples. "Touch me if you want to." He offers, fingers continuing their quest to thoroughly please the hard cock. He decides it must just be a language barrier because he does not understand what Kirill is saying.
A tentative hand snakes out to feather through the fringe on Jason’s brow. Soft, and the skin beneath: warm and smooth, Kirill’s long fingers run along the shell of one ear. A myriad of emotions glitter in his darkening eyes as he wonders how the boy could’ve had others use his body, yet retain his youthful exuberance.
Jason gazes at Kirill, mesmerized by his eyes. What was he thinking? He turns his head to kiss the fingers that graze him lightly. An unconscious thing, the kiss. His hand works over the shaft, moving even closer as his free hand reaches then hesitates. What did this mean? They were about to cross the threshold of friendship into something entirely different. Friendship? Were they even friends?
Kirill gasps at the kiss snatching his hand away. They have ventured into a realm completely foreign to quiet man. The steady pace on his straining erection is not allowing him to reason what is happening. All he wants is to revel in the pleasure the sandy haired boy is giving him. “Please… may I?” he dares to beg.
Jason wonders what Kirill is referring to, curiosity gets the better of him and he has to oblige. "Yes." He works faster on the aching cock in his hand. The expressions and the sounds he hears spurring him on. It's foreign and beautiful and he can't stop it. He doesn't care that they are both in a profession of death. This is precious time, and he'd rather spend it like this than lying awake always wondering what could have been. "Yes." he nods firmly.
Kirill joins his hand with Jason’s for the last few tugs. Permission granted his climax seems to rush through every vein in its race out of his body. He holds himself rigidly and bites into his fist to remain as still and quiet as possible when his release pumps from his body. Cupping his palm to contain the spurts, he watches in fascination as Jason continues to softly stroke him through the after shocks. Bourne’s face is stretched into one of his smiles and his eyes are soft with some unknown emotion. It’s as if he derived as much pleasure from this as Kirill. There must be some other explanation his fuzzy brain can’t fathom.
Looking for a towel or rag to wipe his hand, Kirill notices the erection tenting the American’s shorts. Of course, he hasn’t reciprocated. It has been too many years removed since he’d last been with a client. Some reactions were ingrained; others have blurred and faded over time. Shuttering the shame and confusion that must be plain on his face, Kirill lowers his head and mumbles an apology for seeing to his own needs first.
Jason's eyes widen. He wasn't sure where this reaction was coming from. He thought he was detecting shame. "Hey." He shifts an arm around Kirill's shoulders and smiles. "Hey, it's fine." He shakes his head. "You don't have to if you don't want to." He removes his hand reluctantly to finger the pocket on Kirill's shirt. "You have to admit, that took your mind off the pain." He grins encouragingly, hoping to get a smile.
One corner of Kirill’s mouth quirks before he sobers and responds to the first statement, “No, I must complete.” Hoping he could finish the task manually or orally he shifts to let Bourne lean back on the bed. From beneath his lashes he gauges Bourne’s reactions as he palms the long ridge under the thin cotton. “How do you require relief?”
How do I? Jason abruptly sits up and simply stares at Kirill for a moment. His hand moves and lifts the other’s chin up to force Kirill to look at him. “Kirill, will you just relax for a minute. I said you didn’t have to and you don’t. I want you to, but only if it’s what you want. Hell.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “You can just lie here with me, or go over to your own bed, or I don’t know. I don’t know what this is at all. I don’t require relief. Fuck, only about twice have I ever done this before, and that was with a cousin of mine. We were pretty drunk. I’m not drunk now, Kirill, and I know what I want, and what I want is you. The question is, do you want me?” Having spoken so much in a rush, the American gasps for a breath.
Kirill tries to resist the firm hand on his chin. Yes, he wants, but only knows what he was taught so long ago. The six months spent sharing this space with the American have awakened desires and needs he never knew he was capable of. Two spots of color appear high on his cheeks when he realizes Bourne was referring now and earlier to sexual encounters with lovers, not nameless men in a cold dark room. “I am… was…” he growls the last, “whore. Only know how to bring relief.” He stands to pace away from the blond. “I want, but know nothing else.” He confesses in a whisper.
Jason’s expression varies throughout that entire revelation. He’s not quite sure what to say in response. Kirill has finally shared something of his past, of himself and he does not know how to take it. “Kirill, please join me.” He offers, holding out his hand. “Just come lie down here with me for a moment.”
Having revealed a piece of his past only his patron knew about, Kirill clamps his mouth shut. The kitten yawns and stretches from her prime position on Kirill’s pillow. He heads toward her, stops to pull on a pair of sweat pants from his footlocker, and then picks her up to double check that she was still unhurt from him launching her across the room. He can fairly feel the questions rattling around in the young American’s head. Questions he cannot answer. Cradling the tiny creature against his thumping heart, Kirill glances briefly at Bourne. He lowers his head breathing in the warm smell of the purring beast. “I do not understand this… this wanting. No matter how much I run to exhaustion, it does not cease.” Kirill says haltingly. “My body craves, but I do not know how to feel.”
Jason shifts to give Kirill more room on the small bed. Patiently he waits for Kirill to make the decision. "Hey, we all have secrets Kirill. Thing is, that's the past, and who cares about that now? You made your life something else." He halts on the word better because this is no life. He knows it well. He chose this to forget. "We're not angels, and its not love. It's need. I need you, and you need me. It’s alright."
Absently scratching Percy behind one ear and under her chin, Kirill acknowledges the veracity of why the twenty-odd trainees either joined the program or were recruited with a nod of his head. He was here to hone skills he’d learned in the employ of his patron on the rough streets of his homeland. Until the strange craving his young roommate stirred, the Russian thought he’d left the child he once was far behind in that small dark room. Emotions and desires were for others, like this young American. “I do not want this ‘need’, but cannot control it.” He lifts puzzled eyes to Jason, leant calmly and casually on the bed. “How are you calm, if this need is eating at your nerves?” Kirill asks about the sensations coursing through his body, making him feel twitchy and out of control.
Jason’s eyes track Kirill as he paces, finally he whips out a hand and hooks a finger into a pocket of the sweats his friend had put on. Jason has always been amazingly quick. “Hold on.” He kneels on the bed, still maintaining his grasp on Kirill. “Who said I was calm?” His lips quirking, he reaches over and traces Kirill’s belly button. “I’m just very good at hiding it…”
Percy was surprisingly unperturbed by the abrupt halting of Kirill’s movement. She eyes Jason suspiciously, one paw halfheartedly stretching to try and bat at his finger.
Still grinning, he looks up at the elder, eyes bright in the moonlight. Outside, the rain is calming down.
Kirill’s eyes go wide as he stares into the blatant need and desire on Bourne’s face. Unbidden his body leans into the soft touches. “I… I know only what taught,” his cheeks pink with the strange itchy feeling coursing through his veins. “I show you.” Settling the kitten gently back on Kirill’s bed after a last tickle to her soft belly, the young Russian kneels next to the other bed and again palms Bourne’s arousal. His eyes fly up to Jason’s face once at the initial gasp, and then lower to his task of stroking the thickening length to full arousal.
Jason parts his legs on either side of Kirill and suddenly leans forward and kisses the Russian full on the lips. He lifts his hips into the touch and allows a soft purr of content which makes Percy lift her head and stare at Jason. When they part for breath, the smaller man smiles. "I only know what I want and that is for you to do only what you want to do. See I want to do this." He kisses Kirill's jaw softly. "And this..." He kisses his cheek, then neck.
Kirill tenses at the kiss, only ingrained lessons keep his hand moving on the bourgeoning cotton covered flesh, and innate control keep him from fleeing the sensation of lips against his. Shudders wrack his body when the soft lips move down. A nip to the cords of his neck cause him to squeeze too tight, and another, harder nip results. It’s enough to break the spell the young American is weaving around him. Kirill backs out of Bourne’s range and slowly but surely pulls the boy’s boxers down and off. The golden hair and golden skin of Jason’s legs draw his gaze until he reaches the contrast of paler flesh above the tan and the twitching rod nestled in dark blond curls. His tongue licks out to wet dry lips before he lowers his head to swipe his tongue from root to tip.
Jason’s hands are in Kirill’s hair then down his back, and up. “Jesus.” He whispers. “Kirill…” His legs slide further apart and he groans inwardly. “God, I knew there was a reason you had such an amazing tongue. Uhhhn….” His cock hardens instantly, aching for release. His fingers encounter the tight thong that keeps Kirill’s hair banded neatly and he longs to untwine it. “Your hair…can I take it out?” He rasps.
Intent on his task of swirling his tongue around the tip, Kirill concentrates on controlling his own mounting arousal. The clean soap and sun smell and taste of Jason fill his senses. His blood roaring in his ears closes Kirill off from anything else but the cock he’s slowly guiding to the back of his throat. Only when his tightly bound hair is released does he rear up and feel Bourne’s fingers against his scalp. “Why?” He shakes a lock out of his face, “now in the way.” His puzzled eyes bore into the others.
“Because I wanted to touch it. It’s not in the way, it’s beautiful.” He purrs, fingers threading through the long locks ardently. “Silky when it’s still damp.” He lifts it to his nose and smells it, rubbing the lock against his cheek. “Beautiful.” He twitches, Kirill’s breath warm on his cockhead. He knows it’s not going to take too long, just the idea of being within those sultry lips is enough to make him come right then and there.
Kirill rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath at the complements and silly reasoning. He wraps long fingers around the base of Bourne’s shaft and slides it past his lips. His tongue swirls on the down stroke and his cheeks hollow as he sucks on the way back up. Bourne’s hips are clearing the bed, rocking to the rhythm he’s set. The balls are drawing taut in the furred sac against the back of his palm. Kirill sucks in a deep breath through his nose and swallows until the boy’s cock head is nudging the back of his throat.
Neither youth is aware they have an audience who’s bored with being ignored. Getting no response from rubbing against her dark savior’s pant leg, Percy jumps to the blond’s bed to nudge that one’s hip and voice her displeasure in a loud high pitched meow.
Jason twitches at the sound, but he’s too lost in the pleasure Kirill is creating. He swallows low and falls back against the cushions, narrowly missing the kitten. He whines as his cock is fully engulfed within the other’s mouth. “Damn Cat is back on my bed.” He complains as he gropes for the kitten to encourage her off his bed. This only tempts Percy to play with his fingers. Fingers he’d rather have curling through Kirill’s hair.
Kirill growls around the thick rod, shoving hair behind an ear and reaching blindly for the kitten. Bourne was so close to completion, the last thing he needed was a scratch to sensitive flesh similar to Kirill’s. He’s only able to grab the four tiny paws and hold the ball of silky fur against Jason’s hip, all the while continuing to bob his head in time to Bourne’s thrusts. A few flicks of his tongue and the boy’s hot seed is pulsing down his throat.
Jason gasps and writhes, causing an irritated kitten to finally huff and go lap at some milk because her ‘humans’ were too busy. Jason whimpers, as the aftershocks of his completion ripple through him. It’s been a while since he was brought to this kind reward, so close. He can barely think let alone talk. All he can do is reach for Kirill.
Kirill stays to lick the softening rod clean, letting the young American come down from his high of release. He’d let go of Percy when her struggles increased, not wanting to hurt her, and thankful she had left the bed. Kirill raises his head dragging both hands through his hair, looking around for the band to contain it.
Jason reaches for Kirill’s hands, “Leave it.” He finally catches his breath and searches the other’s eyes. “No one’s done anything quite like that for me before, Kirill.” He draws those hands to his lips and kisses the fingertips lightly. He doesn’t know what else to say, only that he does not want to lose the warmth of Kirill’s body so soon.
Eyes wide and dark in confusion and arousal, Kirill licks at his swollen lips before using the unruly locks to hide his face. The touching of those soft lips to his skin is doing strange things in the pit of his stomach, and he needs to escape to regain some control over his body. “No. Must run. Itchy.” He whispers, leaning back on his heels beside the bed.
“Please don’t.” Jason keeps hold of his hands. “Stay. It’s alright, Kirill. It is. Hey.” He smiles, “Hey, you can’t give a guy the greatest blow job in his life and then go out for a run. That’s just not nice.” He laughs softly, trying to put Kirill at ease. “Please?”
One corner of Kirill’s mouth lifts at the complement, but why Bourne would want him to stay is beyond his understanding. “You done… I finished.” His lowered gaze lights on Bourne’s boxers and reaches out to hand them to the boy. “Why stay?” the exasperated huff from above brings the Russian’s head up, unless the American wants to… Kirill shudders and his shoulders slump. “I… have not… many years…” he stutters, head nearly lowered to his chest. The kitten wanders back into his line of sight and he latches on to her tightly. “Please… not… not yet.”
"Huh?" Jason's mouth opens as he takes the boxers and tosses them aside. His hands rest on Kirill's shoulders. "No, uh. I don't. I haven't." He stutters a laugh, "Uh. You don't think I want to? No. This is fine. This is enough." He swallows. "I just want to hold you. But not if, not if you don't want to. I understand." He tries to hide the hurt with a grin. "I'm fine. It's good. It was good. Hey, it was more than good. You didn't have to. "
The hands on his shoulders burn and the nerve endings beneath have his flesh twitching. Kirill ponders the boy’s wanting to touch and hold. Both had brought each other to completion and thankfully nothing further is going to happen. The position he’s knelt in has the cat scratch to his thigh throbbing despite his current arousal. Percy was again squirming in his arms trying to burrow into the neck of his shirt. “She’ll need food… uh… bathroom… uh” he tries to search for the word he wants. “Not let her out until bigger,” the kitten’s needs he can deal with, the American he can’t.
“Fine.” Jason nods, “Fine it’s alright.” He releases his hold on Kirill’s shoulders. One hand reaches up to brush the hair from the other’s face and stroke the cheek gently. “Just um. Just, I’m here. You know? I’d really like this to be. I don’t know. Silly.” He tries a short laugh, his defense through humor.
Kirill huffs his own exasperated sigh as he rises from the floor. The humor, sarcastic humor, Bourne was upset about something, that much Kirill had learned about the youth. His brain was too muzzy from arousal and the itchy feelings under his skin and in his gut, to reason why. Until he could find a proper box and filling he takes Percy in the tiny bathroom and grabs a couple small towels. Recollecting what fellow denizens of the streets -long before the years in the dark room- had done for feral kittens, Kirill dampen one towel in warm water and places the kitten on the floor of the shower with the other one slightly bunched up. It takes only a couple swipes across her bottom before she is piddling with what looks like a smile on her tiny face.
Jason lies where he is in bed. He’s tugged his shorts back on and his hands are resting behind his head. It was mystifying how Kirill can be so absolutely unawares of his own appeal. He has never in his life felt so relaxed. Closing his eyes he can still feel that warm mouth wrapped around him to the hilt, how soft Kirill’s hair is, how smooth his skin, how his lips tasted. The blonde snorts to himself, he couldn’t possibly be falling for the man? No, he didn’t do love. He glances over to where Kirill is working with the kitten, admiring his form as he bends down. He calls over, “Hey, are you coming to bed?”
Kirill ignores the joking youth. While Percy continues to take care of her business, he searches the medicine cabinet for anti-septic. A bottle of iodine and a square of cotton gauze will have to do. He lowers his pants and turns to get the best light on the scratched area. A low stream of expletives follows his liberally swabbing the area. The burn does help diminish his erection. Percy is enthusiastically trying to bury her deposit with a corner of the towel, he scoops her out of the stall and nudges her out to re-fill her belly with milk. He flushes what he can, and re-positions the towel in case she needs it later. Only after he washes up and looks in the kitchen for some kind of meat to mash into the milk, does Kirill realize he still hasn’t contained his hair. Another eye roll is directed at his roommate as he tucks errant strands behind his ears.
Jason shifts, glancing up at Kirill with a hopeful look he cannot seem to stop from reaching his eyes. For some reason, he has a hard time shielding emotion from Kirill. “You going to put me out of my misery and let me get some sleep?” He wonders.
Kirill snorts, finding a tin of tuna and rattles noisily in a drawer for the opener. Once the lid is pierced he has Percy attached high on a calf and clawing her way higher. She does not seem impressed by his growl so he directs a louder one to the guffaws coming from the beds. Kirill peals the kitten claw by claw out of his sweats and places her in the sink blocking the drain so she couldn’t harm herself. Percy’s yowling and his hair in his eyes has him gritting his teeth in frustration. Only after the bit of fluff is lapping away at her meal can he escape to the bathroom again to check on the new wounds and finally -after another fierce stare to the blond- twist his hair into some sort of order.
“I like it down.” Jason complains, holding his sides from the effort to stop from laughing. “She just likes to claw into your flesh, doesn’t she?” He teases. “You had to open the can of tuna. That’s a sure fire way to get a cat in a frenzy if there ever was one.” He knows that Kirill is trying desperately to avoid coming back into the small bedroom with him and deep down wishes there was a better way of putting him at ease.
His partially dry hair makes it harder to contain the wavy mass. If not for the fact the length was an act of defiance against his long ago keepers, he would have kept it shorn close to his head. The iodine is used liberally again, and just his luck trails of it run down his leg to pool on the floor. A quick scoop in the nick of time keeps the curious kitty out of the medication. She is deposited on his shoulder where she promptly catches her claws in his hair tugging strands from the rubber bands. He is too tired and his brain to busy going over all the event of the night for Kirill to bother with it again. He stomps back to his bed and climbs in with a deep sigh, Percy of course taking up most of his pillow.
Jason looks over at Kirill and gives him a hurt expression. “What? You choose a kitten over me.” He folds his arms across his chest and pretends to sulk.
Kirill snorts again, rolling his eyes. He slides a protective arm around his small charge, hoping to gain a few hours of uneventful sleep.
Jason heaves a sigh. "Anyone would think you didn't like me." He reaches over to turn off the bedroom light. "And what's not to like?"
“Talk too much.”
"Well, maybe that's because someone hasn't figured out a way to put my mouth to a better use." Jason counters, snickering.
Kirill snorts again, and then recalls the American’s allergies. A hand stretches out with kitten attached “You sleep with, hold.” The expected sneezing fit would be easier to ignore than the mouth.
"No!" Jason shakes his head vehemently. Then he pauses. "Kirill....? Did you just make a joke?"
A flash of white teeth and glitter of dark green eyes is the only response as Percy is snuggled back in her prime spot.
“You did! And you do have a sense of humor. I knew it.” Jason laughs softly and yawns hugely. “One of these days I am going to make you laugh, I swear I will.” He yawns again and stretches his legs. “Good night, Kirill.”
Kirill grunts and closes his eyes to the sound of purrs and smell of tuna breath.
TBC