For Sinthia

[red_peril]

Illya was still a bit confused about the living arrangements with Sinthia and Sam. Rather than taking his frustrations out on furniture or people, he was currently pounding away at a heavy punching bag at Delflorio's. It was an old fashioned gym a couple of blocks from his apartment. Old fashioned in that there was no fancy equipment, no stair steppers, no treadmills, or ellipticals. No women looking for Zumba classes or whatever. No women were allowed. There was a boxing ring, punching bags, a couple of sets of well used weights, an ancient yet usable rowing machine. He didn't feel as if he had to impress anyone. They were used to seeing the big Russian there. He'd had a membership ever since he moved to the United States. He didn't usually draw stares at Delflorio's, unless someone new came in. He didn't have to hide the tattoos as much as if he'd gone to a fancier place. He'd been working out for over an hour now. Illya had started with warming up, jumping rope, and then working at the punching bag. Still after nearly an hour, he was pounding on the bag as if he meant to kill someone.

After his conversation with Sam and learning that the guy was roommates with his girlfriend in a studio apartment with only one bed, he was a little confused and insecure. At first, he had wondered if he had done something wrong. Perhaps this arrangement with Sam was her way of telling him to bugger off. But then Sam had said he had his own girlfriend. Still, Illya felt like he had committed some sort of faux pas.

How did that work? Did Sam sleep at his girlfriend's place? Either way, if he'd known there was a roommate involved, he probably would not have been making out on the couch in the living room with Sinthia if there was the possibility that someone might walk in on them. He was a very private person when it came to it. Especially in romantic relationships. He had tried calling Sinthia to talk about his concerns with her, but he got her answering machine. Which he didn't want to talk to. After a couple of times, he gave up. Perhaps she was busy at her job. Or maybe she did not want to talk to him.

Delflorio wandered by at one point and watched him for a few minutes. "Good form. You training for a boxing match?" The old man asked. He must have been in his nineties. His hair was white and his face showed his age. But anyone who knew the old man, knew that the owner was a former boxer who could still throw a punch. Illya answered with a curt, "No." The old man warned, "You know, kid, if you break it, you bought it." "Da. I know," he replied, continuing to wail on the bag with his fists.

Comments

[abyssum_invocat]

"I'm hardly perfect, Illya," she said, letting her head fall back to his shoulder. "I can promise that."

[red_peril]

"You are perfectly Sinthia. You do not need to be anyone else for me. I would not change a thing about you," he said without flattery. Illya loved her just as was.

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia shifted, laying herself down across Illya's lap as he said that, lacing her fingers with his as she twisted to see the television screen; she was comfortable here. "I would change things about me. But none that I can actually achieve."

[red_peril]

"You are too hard on yourself. Are you quite comfortable?" he said as she squirmed around. Once she settled, they watched the movie for a while. The angle she was laying across his lap made it difficult for him to bend down to kiss her. Which was alright if they wanted to just watch the movie. It was a nice way to spend an evening together.

[abyssum_invocat]

"I am," she says, smiling up at him. "I want to watch the movie, we can have sex later. Or do you want me to get up?"

[red_peril]

Illya gave her hand a squeeze, "No. You're fine. Me too." He was comfortable with her like that and he did want to watch the movie for a while.

[abyssum_invocat]

"I remember the first time I saw this movie. I thought it was old, because it was in black and white," she murmured, absently rubbing Avi's ears.

[red_peril]

"It was homage to classic monster movies of 1930s. Though I had not seen them when I was younger until after I had seen this."

[abyssum_invocat]

"I've seen them," she says, amused. "But I watched this without any knowledge of what or who it was supposed to be."

[red_peril]

"I was very young when I saw it. I probably did not get most of the jokes," he said, laughing at the antics on screen. "I do remember thinking it was very funny." But he did appreciate the humor more from an adult perspective.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Do you get them now?" she asks, glancing up at Illya.

[red_peril]

"Oh yes, I think so," Illya said. As Gene Wilder was proclaiming on the screen over the rather large door knockers. "What knockers indeed!" Illya teased, sliding his hands beneath Sinthia's shirt to cup her breasts.

[abyssum_invocat]

With a surprised noise she laughed, and didn't stop him at all from sliding his hands under her shirt, in fact gladly laying her hands over his in encouragement of how his palms were sliding over her nipples.

"Keep going," she murmured. "You might find he actual door."

[red_peril]

"As long as Frau Blucher is not behind it," he laughed, bending down to kiss her and nuzzle her neck.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Has she ever been?" Sinthia teased back, leaning up to make his task easier and humming pleasantly when their lips met, fingertips tracing the outline of Illya's cheek. "I don't remember ever being called that. Only fräulein, only by a few people." Mostly she wasn't addressed much at all, and only told where to go and what to do as if she'd simply know the commands were for her.

"And then I left Germany, and nobody called me anything anymore." It had been stunning and saddening if incredibly useful--for them--training.

[red_peril]

"Fräulein Schmidt. Meine Fräulein Schmidt," he teased, kissing her again. "America no one calls you Mr or Ms even. It's so informal everyone calls everyone by their first names."

[abyssum_invocat]

"I was little," she protested, ruffling his hair so it stood on end. "My clients call me that. They're very formal." Hell, one of them--an old man--refuses to even mention her first name.

[red_peril]

Illya sat back, smiling, "It reminds me of grammar school. They were pretty formal there." He ran a hand absently through his hair. "At least my hair doesn't look like Gene Wilder's."

[abyssum_invocat]

"No, but if you curl it it might," she chuckles. "You could be him for Halloween."

[red_peril]

Illya laughed, "I don't think I could get the accent right."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Oh, with practice you could," she chuckles. "I'd like to see you try, maybe."

[red_peril]

"I would probably make better monster," he certainly had the size for it.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Shall I assume you're equally bad at tap dancing?" she asks, mischievous.

[red_peril]

"Actually, tap dancing is not my worst, but I can fake doing it badly," he laughed.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Can you now?" she asks. "I may need to see that."