Fire Bird and The Grey Wolf part three
10/11/04 05:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyMore Russian Clex, anyone? I hope so!
Say, you know what else I like? Those little Russian teacakes...they're so yummy. Probably not a real Russian cookie though, just like pizza isn't really Italian... hmmm. Yes. My brain doesn't have enough to keep it occupied, does it? It's just thrilled the Sumo wrestlers have moved out.I guess I should put this story in my memories, the one that works.heh!
Anyhoo, the continuing adventures of Boris Badinov. (I blame Abi)
One Year Later
Kirill leaned his back against the rough wall of the stable and rolled his shoulders forward, and watched his cock disappear in the warm mouth that worked to bring him off. He growled as the heat increased in his groin, he was about to come. He grunted and grabbed the head bobbing up and down on his cock and pumped his hips, came when the head of his cock pushed against the soft tissue at the back of the boy’s throat. He grunted, closed his eyes briefly as the sensation of his cock jerking and spewing into the mouth on him rushed through his body and made his blood boil. He leaned back against the wall and groaned, and then pushed at the young man in front of him. “ Go—you’re done here.”
The young man rose quickly as he could and tried to get away before his master could change his mind, and decide to punish him for making the master want him. Kirill watched the rabbit –like movements and smirked, a different sort of desire coiling through him now.
“Why do you run, Ivan? Don’t you like to be near me?” he lifted himself away from the wall, as he buttoned his trousers.
Ivan’s heart sank, his stomach turned. Kirill was in a playful mood. He prayed desperately that he was going to come away from whatever game he had in mind in one piece. Kirill stepped closer, his green eyes filling Ivan’s world, and he couldn’t move his eyes away. Time stopped and he was caught, snared in a web of fear, dreading what might come next. It could be great pain or…pleasure. As if from a great distance he heard a little hitch of breath, more a tiny sob and realized with horror the sound was his. Kirill laughed softly and stroked his cheek. The move broke the spell and Ivan’s eyes closed and he waited for pain to bloom. And a soft voice broke the horrible silence— Voronkov. Never did Ivan ever think in his wildest imaginings he’d be grateful to hear that voice.
“Kirill. Stop wasting my time playing and come here. I need you”
A tear slid down Ivan’s cheek and he thought it might be from relief.
Kirill leaned in and kissed it away. “Almost as good as blood,” he whispered, and chuckled when Ivan shuddered.
His Uncle swore and demanded Kirill hurry, and swept ahead of him when he hurried after. He may not have been wearing the gloves, but Kirill wasn’t a fool. He didn’t want to take chances.
When he came back to the dacha there were there were a strange coach and horses in the yard.
“Guests,” Boris said, satisfaction making his voice oily, and Kirill unconsciously moved a bit away from him, and grimaced in distaste. Fortunately Boris’ eyes were fixed on the fine horses and coach in the yard, and he spoke, more to him self than to Kirill. “Prince Felix and his company have finally arrived. My plans are now in motion, if all goes well, my pockets will be fatter, and my proper status restored.” He turned to look at Kirill, and smiled. “Not that anything so simple as position or money moves me, that’s fleeting at best. No, I have many other concerns as well, other desires, one could say.” He ran his finger over Kirill’s hand, and only tight discipline kept him from flinching, but his Uncle caught the slight tightening of the skin around his eyes, and laughed softly. “Come now, little one—haven’t you learned to enjoy it just the littlest bit by now?” He chuckled at Kirill’s deep blush, and his scowl.
“I have plans for you, my young creature. Great plans.” He strode away from Kirill, his long black coat flapping about him like crows wings. He called back over his shoulder, “ Come along Kirill, I need to speak to you in private.”
*******
The room was dark, Uncle liked it dark, and too hot, the fire put out so much heat, and so little light, how was such a thing possible? That evil bastard absorbed light, he would swear it. Boris was like a lake of blackness, sucking up anything good or light and turning it to shit. And the awful, awful heat….
Sweat ran down his ribs and dripped off his face, his hair was wet with it, he was sore, his whole body ached and his muscles twitched—his throat was raw from screaming. His wrists were held a little too high from the bedposts, his legs pulled back just a little too far, he couldn’t ease his trembling muscles at all, and a burn had set in all along his limbs. Boris grunted and pushed into him, long slow slides that pulled at his arms and his back and made his gut clench, sweat ran into his eyes and the green crystals sewn onto the velvet cords seemed to glow bright as stars until he blinked the sweat back out, and his vision was normal again. Slide in, slide out, and Boris groaned and cursed him…cursed him for making him want to fuck the monster, for looking human enough to inspire lust, for bleeding so prettily, having such a tight hot ass—Kirill hated him so much, and he was so close to coming, he hated him so much…hated him as his cock jerked and spilled on the sheets, as Boris ground his wolf’s teeth into the screaming flesh of his shoulder and came growling and scraping bleeding furrows down his ribs.
When Boris finally let his arms down, though carefully wrapped in the velvet cords that burned so much, Kirill smiled at him. Hate, hate you so much.
Boris laughed, and jumped off the bed, wrapping himself in the fur-lined robe at the foot.
“So little monster—what did we learn today?” he sat in the bedroom chair and light a cigarette, watched Kirill watch the smoke. “Not speaking, my pet? Did I offend you in some way?”
Kirill writhed a bit in the ropes, tied in such a way that he was open and displayed to his Uncle. He learned something every time he was in this bed, every time he memorized the faces of the angels carved on the frame, or the pattern in the hangings stretched over the top of it. He learned that it mattered not at all what he looked like, he wasn’t human, which meant he had no soul, which meant neither Heaven or Hell claimed him. A creature with no soul could do what it wanted—and the possibilities were endless--- he just needed to learn how to keep his dear Uncle alive long enough that he could feel every lesson he’d learned.
Boris looked at him inquisitively when Kirill chuckled—unusual for his pet to laugh afterward, he was usually sullen and …exhausted. But he had energy enough to laugh? ‘Well, we’ll soon take care of that.’ He smiled warmly at Kirill.
Kirill stared at him, thought, ‘How could anyone doubt the existence of God? Even a soulless creature like myself knows that He is, because if there’s a Devil, there must be a God, and I know the Devil exists—I see him everyday.’ He closed his eyes as Uncle opened the little lead chest that held his favorite toys, and as always prayed hopelessly for death.
stay tuned!
edited to fix duh's
Say, you know what else I like? Those little Russian teacakes...they're so yummy. Probably not a real Russian cookie though, just like pizza isn't really Italian... hmmm. Yes. My brain doesn't have enough to keep it occupied, does it? It's just thrilled the Sumo wrestlers have moved out.I guess I should put this story in my memories, the one that works.heh!
Anyhoo, the continuing adventures of Boris Badinov. (I blame Abi)
One Year Later
Kirill leaned his back against the rough wall of the stable and rolled his shoulders forward, and watched his cock disappear in the warm mouth that worked to bring him off. He growled as the heat increased in his groin, he was about to come. He grunted and grabbed the head bobbing up and down on his cock and pumped his hips, came when the head of his cock pushed against the soft tissue at the back of the boy’s throat. He grunted, closed his eyes briefly as the sensation of his cock jerking and spewing into the mouth on him rushed through his body and made his blood boil. He leaned back against the wall and groaned, and then pushed at the young man in front of him. “ Go—you’re done here.”
The young man rose quickly as he could and tried to get away before his master could change his mind, and decide to punish him for making the master want him. Kirill watched the rabbit –like movements and smirked, a different sort of desire coiling through him now.
“Why do you run, Ivan? Don’t you like to be near me?” he lifted himself away from the wall, as he buttoned his trousers.
Ivan’s heart sank, his stomach turned. Kirill was in a playful mood. He prayed desperately that he was going to come away from whatever game he had in mind in one piece. Kirill stepped closer, his green eyes filling Ivan’s world, and he couldn’t move his eyes away. Time stopped and he was caught, snared in a web of fear, dreading what might come next. It could be great pain or…pleasure. As if from a great distance he heard a little hitch of breath, more a tiny sob and realized with horror the sound was his. Kirill laughed softly and stroked his cheek. The move broke the spell and Ivan’s eyes closed and he waited for pain to bloom. And a soft voice broke the horrible silence— Voronkov. Never did Ivan ever think in his wildest imaginings he’d be grateful to hear that voice.
“Kirill. Stop wasting my time playing and come here. I need you”
A tear slid down Ivan’s cheek and he thought it might be from relief.
Kirill leaned in and kissed it away. “Almost as good as blood,” he whispered, and chuckled when Ivan shuddered.
His Uncle swore and demanded Kirill hurry, and swept ahead of him when he hurried after. He may not have been wearing the gloves, but Kirill wasn’t a fool. He didn’t want to take chances.
When he came back to the dacha there were there were a strange coach and horses in the yard.
“Guests,” Boris said, satisfaction making his voice oily, and Kirill unconsciously moved a bit away from him, and grimaced in distaste. Fortunately Boris’ eyes were fixed on the fine horses and coach in the yard, and he spoke, more to him self than to Kirill. “Prince Felix and his company have finally arrived. My plans are now in motion, if all goes well, my pockets will be fatter, and my proper status restored.” He turned to look at Kirill, and smiled. “Not that anything so simple as position or money moves me, that’s fleeting at best. No, I have many other concerns as well, other desires, one could say.” He ran his finger over Kirill’s hand, and only tight discipline kept him from flinching, but his Uncle caught the slight tightening of the skin around his eyes, and laughed softly. “Come now, little one—haven’t you learned to enjoy it just the littlest bit by now?” He chuckled at Kirill’s deep blush, and his scowl.
“I have plans for you, my young creature. Great plans.” He strode away from Kirill, his long black coat flapping about him like crows wings. He called back over his shoulder, “ Come along Kirill, I need to speak to you in private.”
*******
The room was dark, Uncle liked it dark, and too hot, the fire put out so much heat, and so little light, how was such a thing possible? That evil bastard absorbed light, he would swear it. Boris was like a lake of blackness, sucking up anything good or light and turning it to shit. And the awful, awful heat….
Sweat ran down his ribs and dripped off his face, his hair was wet with it, he was sore, his whole body ached and his muscles twitched—his throat was raw from screaming. His wrists were held a little too high from the bedposts, his legs pulled back just a little too far, he couldn’t ease his trembling muscles at all, and a burn had set in all along his limbs. Boris grunted and pushed into him, long slow slides that pulled at his arms and his back and made his gut clench, sweat ran into his eyes and the green crystals sewn onto the velvet cords seemed to glow bright as stars until he blinked the sweat back out, and his vision was normal again. Slide in, slide out, and Boris groaned and cursed him…cursed him for making him want to fuck the monster, for looking human enough to inspire lust, for bleeding so prettily, having such a tight hot ass—Kirill hated him so much, and he was so close to coming, he hated him so much…hated him as his cock jerked and spilled on the sheets, as Boris ground his wolf’s teeth into the screaming flesh of his shoulder and came growling and scraping bleeding furrows down his ribs.
When Boris finally let his arms down, though carefully wrapped in the velvet cords that burned so much, Kirill smiled at him. Hate, hate you so much.
Boris laughed, and jumped off the bed, wrapping himself in the fur-lined robe at the foot.
“So little monster—what did we learn today?” he sat in the bedroom chair and light a cigarette, watched Kirill watch the smoke. “Not speaking, my pet? Did I offend you in some way?”
Kirill writhed a bit in the ropes, tied in such a way that he was open and displayed to his Uncle. He learned something every time he was in this bed, every time he memorized the faces of the angels carved on the frame, or the pattern in the hangings stretched over the top of it. He learned that it mattered not at all what he looked like, he wasn’t human, which meant he had no soul, which meant neither Heaven or Hell claimed him. A creature with no soul could do what it wanted—and the possibilities were endless--- he just needed to learn how to keep his dear Uncle alive long enough that he could feel every lesson he’d learned.
Boris looked at him inquisitively when Kirill chuckled—unusual for his pet to laugh afterward, he was usually sullen and …exhausted. But he had energy enough to laugh? ‘Well, we’ll soon take care of that.’ He smiled warmly at Kirill.
Kirill stared at him, thought, ‘How could anyone doubt the existence of God? Even a soulless creature like myself knows that He is, because if there’s a Devil, there must be a God, and I know the Devil exists—I see him everyday.’ He closed his eyes as Uncle opened the little lead chest that held his favorite toys, and as always prayed hopelessly for death.
stay tuned!
edited to fix duh's
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(no subject)
10/11/04 11:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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10/12/04 12:38 am (UTC)Boris is playing a very dangerous game here. Hopefully Kirril will fry him before too long.
*hugs poor little Ivan, caught in the cross-fire*
(no subject)
10/12/04 01:29 am (UTC)Holy crap!!
10/12/04 12:56 am (UTC)I'm intrigued by Kirill's assessment (Heh. I spelled "ass.") that he isn't subject to human morality - he is so incredibly dangerous filled with hate and power as he is. *shivers*
I'm enjoying the sense of place you are crafting as well. The heaviness of the imagery matches the heaviness of the moral questions and unhappiness of the characters. All the firelight, furs and animal images are perfect. Who knew old Russia was as fertile a ground for Clex as anywhere else? *g*
What a fantastic idea!! You are so cool.
*hugs*
Re: Holy crap!!
10/12/04 01:36 am (UTC)betrue
2004-10-12 00:56 (link) Select
I go away from LJ for a few days and come back to find a whole new series from you! And how dirtywrongbutohsoright it is!
I'm intrigued by Kirill's assessment (Heh. I spelled "ass.") that he isn't subject to human morality - he is so incredibly dangerous filled with hate and power as he is. *shivers*
This is where Boris makes a mistake, by constantly reminding Kirill that he isn't human, which in those days would mean soulless, I'm thinking, he really does create a dangerous weapon.He's kind of an anti-Bo
I'm enjoying the sense of place you are crafting as well. The heaviness of the imagery matches the heaviness of the moral questions and unhappiness of the characters. All the firelight, furs and animal images are perfect.
Ah, thank you so very much, and I owe that to
(no subject)
10/12/04 02:04 am (UTC)This still feels like a fairy tale to me. It reminds me of Tanith Lee's older stuff that i was reading in the '80s. Beautiful dark sensuality!
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10/13/04 01:10 am (UTC)Trying to catch up with my flist *skip 140 or something right now...* and THIS and...
DAMN, Ms. Thang!!
You are eeevol.
And - it's skeeery, and ...
I lurve it.
*bounce*
*Hugs you*
(no subject)
10/13/04 01:24 am (UTC)Hmmm. I may have gone a little overboard just now.heh!
(no subject)
4/6/05 05:46 am (UTC)And yes, bouncing!! Much!!
:D