He loves you and he always will, but he's too broken right now to see it.
MarquesateAye, and for now, would you mind if I get you out of your clothes and wrap myself around you? It's medicinal you know? For your stitches...and my knee...and, I guess, all the rest of us.
MarquesateVadim inhaled, but couldn’t form words, struggled with translating soldier concepts into something civilians could understand.
Dan moved into the breach. “Violence, Duncan. I’m afraid we didn’t meet under a full moon with roses and a bottle of wine. We were set on killing each other. Just … that it didn’t work out like that.
Opening the door, he nearly did a double take into the mirror behind
him.
Hooch. Hooch, pushing his shades back up onto his head, and re-shouldering the bergan. Hooch, standing in the doorway.
“Been thinking.”
Two words, more than usual.
“Been around a bit.”
Six, speech worthy of a national holiday.
“Looking for a station now.”
Eleven, whole fucking fireworks.
"Central station.”
Thirteen, and the heavens came down for Matt.
“You still offering?”
Sixteen, and the world stopped spinning.
Matt stood thinking for a while, not a muscle in his face twitched. Then
stepped aside, gestured the other man to follow him. Closed the door.
“One condition.”
Hooch’s brows rose for a split second.
Matt broke into a grin at last, which threatened to split his face. “Promise
not to talk too much.
Because of you Vadim, You are my home.
MarquesateStichwörter: love
You..." just you always you. My Russian cunt my enemy my comrade my prisoner my gaoler and my life. Words unthinking.
"Love...you.
Stichwörter: love confessions
Aye, that's me. Roughie toughie squaddie with the intellectual depth of a shallow baby bath and the educational background of a hedgerow. I'm complicated, me.
MarquesateStichwörter: dan-macfadyen
Dan wanted to cry out, or scream and yell and destroy with fists and boots. Anything, anything at all to break through the onslaught of emotions, but all he had was his lips, two arms, and one hand. Tongue, teeth, as well, and the most gut-wrenching sensation of feeling, physical, mental, gathering deep in his guts, spreading and searing through his body, traveling across blood. ‘Vadim’, it hammered through his being, ‘Vadim. Alive. Vadim.’ And he was lost.
MarquesateStichwörter: dan special-forces
Dan didn't know how violently he was biting. Just the absolute closeness. Once upon a time he'd hated that body, smashed it, kicked it, beat it into a bleeding pulp, but now he wanted to crawl into it, or kill it, and maim it, to possess it, eat, tear, destroy it, to take it and never leave it again.
His. The body was his, the man was his. His, his, his alone!
You conquered me, got to this Special Forces bloke well and truly." His voice husky and low. "You could betray and kill me now and I wouldn't give a shit as long as you'd stay close until I died.
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