red_peril: (hot Russian)
Illya Kuryakin ([personal profile] red_peril) wrote 2016-04-30 05:09 am (UTC)

"I do not. I just am not fond of giving hickies," Illya explained. He was far from perfect, but the mask he'd worn for so long in public was hard to set aside. His right shoulder and thigh were scarred from his most recent injury.

Solo leaned forward to kiss one of the stars on his shoulder as he started to unfasten Illya's pants. "What do they mean? Are you Catholic?" he asked touching the crucifix that covered the center of Illya's chest.

"No," he said, with a little laugh. "The cross has nothing to do with Jesus. It means I am thief in good standing. The stars, that I am leader in Vor v Zakone... The Russian mafia," he explained. "But I am not with them anymore. My tattoos do not tell the whole truth. Is story I may tell you later." If they remained in contact.

"It sounds like you've had an exciting life," Solo said. "They're beautiful. Do they all have meanings like that?" he asked, curious.

"Sometimes too exciting. I don't want to talk about it right now," Illya said, brushing a hand over Solo's chest. The physical therapy nurse was furry. His chest covered in a mat of black hair that trailed down to his pants. Solo had broad shoulders, thick biceps, and a slim waist. His muscles were very well defined.

Solo moved closer. Now that he had Illya's pants open, he slid his arms around him, his hands sliding into the Russian's trousers. Gripping Illya's muscular ass, he pulled the man closer, so that they were standing, chests touching. He could feel Illya's heart pounding, his breath coming quicker. "Do you have those tattoos everywhere?"

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