red_peril | Physical Therapy for Sist3r

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sinthia

Physical Therapy for Sist3r_Sin

"Come on, don't stop now. Give me ten more reps." The physical therapist was very attractive. He had dark hair and blue eyes that had a mischievous sparkle to them. Though he seemed irritatingly pleased at the pain that Illya was experiencing. The tag on his t-shirt read N. Solo, PT. The dark t-shirt showed off his own impressively muscular physique.

Illya had been glad to get the stupid splint off. Not so much to meet the physical therapist. But if he intended ever to raise his right arm above his head again, he would have to do it. So, sweating and growling as he lifted the weight ten more times. He kept his movements precise, but by the end, his arm was shaking, his shoulder throbbing, and he had a keen desire to punch the physical therapist in the face. No matter how attractive that face was. Still, he didn't stop until the reps were done.

"Good job," he said as Illya set down the weights. Illya was panting and his weak muscles trembled. "Lay down and we'll get some deep ultrasonic massage for it. It'll make it feel really good." Illya laid back on the bench as he was asked. He hated feeling weak. But nearly two full months in a hospital bed with no exercise at all had made Illya lose some of his muscle tone. Especially in his injured right arm. It would take a while to get back into shape. He watched the physical therapist roll a piece of equipment into the room.

After putting on a pair of gloves, he squirted some gel onto Illya's wounded shoulder. He let out a little gasp at how cold it was. Then Solo turned on the massager and applied the machine to his shoulder. "Bozhe moy..." he sighed as the ultrasonic waves and the gel started to heat as well as cool.

"What?" Solo asked.

"Is Russian for 'My god.' That feels very good," he sighed, relaxing as Solo worked on him. This angle gave him a different perspective on the man's face. Illya's eyes were especially drawn to his lips. They looked so kissable. Solo's blue eyes caught him staring and he smiled. He had not been attracted like this to anyone other than Sinthia in a very long time.

"It should feel good," Solo said, very amused by the Russian's attention. "You have beautiful eyes, by the way."

"Really?" he looked at the man's eyes directly. Could it be that he was feeling a similar attraction? Illya's eyes softened and he chanced a smile.

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"Alright," she answered, looking over at Illya and back in the mirror at Solo; the drive was not a very long one, but the car was fun to ride in even for short distances.

The entrance to her apartment was comfortable; there was a large common area and a small but efficient kitchen, a smaller living room set off to one side and the hallway leading to the closet, bedroom and bath discreetly closed. The balcony was by far what dominated the space, and the very large dog currently lounging on the couch, snoozing with his elegant head draped over an armrest. "If you'll tell me what you want, we can sit outside. It's not very noisy at all."

When the big dog heard them come in, his tail started whapping the couch, but he didn't move. Illya went over and the dog turned over exposing his belly. "Alright..." he went over and scratched his tummy for a bit.

"Whiskey neat?" Solo asked, turning to look out the balcony. "I can see why you like it. The view is incredible." The sun had gone down. The balcony was far enough up it didn't get the street noise and the lights of New York spread below them. He stopped to greet Avi before going outside and leaning against the railing.

"Whiskey is good," Illya said, following their guest out onto the balcony. "It is a beautiful view."

Solo looked at the taller man. The Russian was incredibly handsome and he could guess why they had invited him back to their apartment. "Illya, there's something that I've been wanting to do since I first met you. May I?"

"Sure," he said softly, not entirely certain what Solo meant, but hopeful. His heart started to pound as Solo stood and moved closer to him, leaning up a little to kiss Illya's lips softly. It felt so good.

Sinthia waited for them to step out before she called Avi to her, ruffling his ears and petting him gently with soft-spoken words, a mix of Russian and German as she spoke to him while she poured them drinks. The glasses were easily balanced on a tray against her hip (her own drink was vodka with lime), though she merely watched from the doorway out as the men kissed.

It was a somewhat strange feeling, being attracted to them both, and in love with one, and yet watching them with an indescribable half-loneliness she couldn't quite pin down.

Solo pulled away from him when he saw Sinthia in the doorway. "I'm sorry, I sort of assumed this is why you brought me here."

"Don't be," he wasn't surprised to see Sinthia there. After all, it was what they had talked about. Illya said softly, "It is. We both find you attractive." His heart was pounding in his chest. He licked his lips, the memory of Solo's mouth on his still fresh. His body tingling from the other man's touch. Though he would have been upset about her feeling that way if he knew. He would never want her to feel like he was missing something with her.

"Don't be sorry," Sinthia echoed, shaking her head as she came out past the glass doors with a quiet and unreadable little smile barely curving her mouth as she set the glasses down. "I know you were probably expecting something very different," she said, coming closer to them and having to stand on her toed to reach Illya's cheek.

Solo cleared his throat and smiled, blushing a little as she kissed him. Illya's smile in return made it clear that he really loved her. And then he kissed her back. "I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting. This isn't something I have much experience with. But I am more than willing to give it a try."

Illya slid his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, "Ya lyublyu tebya." He kissed her on the mouth. "It is not something we have ever tried before either."

Speak for yourself, Sinthia thought, the notion idly floating by as she let Illya wind his arms around her, liking the solid weight of his grasp, even if it was incredibly gentle. She'd cheated on someone before--she supposed that counted as far as illicit sex, and it certainly wasn't the only qualifier--but she'd never told Illya all of that. He had no need to know what she'd done in all those past lives and fragments of assignments, assassinations that she could barely make heads or tails of. And she was hoping whatever happened here tonight wouldn't be the same.

"May I kiss you?" she asked of Solo, vodka glass held by her fingertips and beginning to sweat and bead condensation.

They had not tried it since they had been together. Illya was sweetly blind of her older age and whatever had come before. He didn't care. He loved her. And this, this wasn't cheating really, he wanted Solo as much or more than she did. Even if she told him, he would be inclined to forgive her.

"Yes, of course," Solo said. He was a little nervous. He liked both men and women, but he had been more often with men than with women. It was his first time with a couple. He just reminded himself to relax, it could be fun. And if it wasn't, they didn't have to do it again.

As she moved toward the other man, Illya let her slip from his arms. The thought of seeing Sinthia kissing Solo was nearly as exciting to him as doing it himself. He picked up his glass of whiskey and sipped it while he watched.

Sinthia greatly hoped to keep him blind to all that, and brushed her fingers over the back of Illya's hand as they let go, bringing her hand up to Solo's shoulder. In her heels she had gained some height, but still needed to rock forward and up to comfortably reach either of the boys for a kiss.

Her lips touched his, head cocked just a few degrees to make them fit, settling into each other after a moment of tenseness, though Sinthia didn't risk anything more than a simple, soft, closemouthed kiss. She could feel the contour of muscle under his clothes, the ridge between his deltoid and trapezius that she traced with her fingertips. She had skill at this part, at relaxing her partner (enough to give information) and at keeping interest in her. She hadn't used it in a while, but it was no less easy to step back into. Her mouth tasted like good vodka, and the syrupy tartness of lime juice and grenadine with it, the taste half-planned to be accessible but not ordinary.

Both men were quite tall, so she had to lean up to reach their lips or they would have to bend down. Either way, Illya watched eagerly. Knowing what it was like to have her kiss him. Though this was far more chaste than how she regularly kissed him. He licked his lips, his eyes dilated with excitement and the memory of Solo's lips fresh against his own.

Her body fit against Solo's nicely. He closed his eyes as he kissed her and his own hands slid down to her waist. He wasn't the only one hiding considerable muscle beneath his fine clothes. The taste of the vodka and lime on her lips was exotic and enticing. He wanted to taste more of her, but he wasn't going to push her farther than she wanted to go. He let her take the lead.

She hummed softly as they kissed, and Sinthia progressively relaxed, shoulders falling as her spine bent, pushing into an arch. "You taste good," she murmured with the smallest hint of a smile in her voice, lips barely parted enough from Solo's to speak. "And you feel good."

Illya put down his whiskey glass and moved up behind her. He bent down to kiss her neck, "Mind if I join you?"

His hands found Solo's around her waist and slid up his arms, encircling Sinthia between them. Illya leaned forward a little over her to kiss Solo's lips. Solo obliged by bending forward so that their lips could meet.

Illya's lips tasted sweet, like the whiskey he'd been drinking. Solo smiled into that kiss, just barely a hair's-breath from Sinthia's. He was fairly certain, that with her body pressed between them, that she could feel exactly how excited this was making both of them.

When their lips parted, they turned simultaneously to kiss Sinthia. Which didn't quite work, and they ended up kissing her more or less on the corners of her mouth.

When she felt Illya come up behind her, Sinthia felt a frission of panic race up her spine at the notion of being trapped, but it only translated into goosebumps over her shoulders and biceps; she slid back onto her heels when the two men came together in a kiss, unable to watch it but very able to feel both bodies touching her and hear the rustle of fabrics against each other.

She couldn't help a little laugh when they both turned to kiss her at the same time and ended up each being a little sideways of the mark, and she turned her head to Illya first. For Solo she moved her hand up his chest, pausing at each button of his shirt until she slid them under the lapel of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and leaving a little separation between his neck and his shirt collar, just enough for a light kiss.

Illya chuckled when they each missed Sinthia's mouth, then she turned to him for a kiss. Solo echoed the sound when she unbuttoned his shirt as she kissed Illya. He was quite liking this. Solo reached up to take off his tie, to give her a little more working room. He tucked the silk into his jacket pocket. Though he was pleasantly surprised when it was Illya's left hand that slipped inside his shirt to run fingers down his chest.

The Russian looked up at him when his lips parted from Sinthia's. "Perhaps we should go inside," Illya suggested. He didn't care to put on a show for the whole neighborhood to see.

Sinthia didn't reply immediately; her fingers were busy letting Solo's tie slip between them, the slippery finish of the fabric leaving a ghostly trail around her wrist where it slid.

"Maybe," she murmured, mouth turning pink in the wake of kisses.

"Maybe?" Illya laughed, kissing her neck again. He knew she was teasing him. He slipped her blouse from her shoulder as he kissed his way up her neck.

Solo watched a while before he finally leaned in to kiss Sinthia again. At first it was chaste again, then his tongue teased at her lips.

Sinthia only smiled at the laughing question, shoulders shifting when Illya found a ticklish spot on her shoulder as the translucent dyed silk slipped away; once the neck had come undone the rest of the top followed easily, leaving her arms caught in the fabric as she sighed into Solo's kisses, opening up to him with a soft breath of a sigh.

"It's rude to impose on a guest," she murmured, for a second leaning back against Illya, leaving the decision up to the boys.

"I dunno, it probably would be a lot more comfortable inside. Say on a couch or in a bed?" Solo suggested. Though it seemed that he and Sinthia were getting a little more undressed than Illya at the moment, and he was very interested in seeing what the blonde Russian looked like without the jacket and turtleneck.

"You see? Solo agrees with me," Illya said opening the balcony door to go inside.

Sinthia acquiesced fairly easily to the suggestion of moving inside, and opted to simply let this progress in the bedroom instead of having to move twice and convince the dog to get off the couch. With a more than hundred-pound animal it was no mean feat.

Underneath the silk shirt she wore a linen camisole, one strap falling off her shoulder as she shrugged out of the patterned top, leaving the gauzy material hanging absently from one hand as she moved through the apartment, finally laying back on her bed. "You seem overdressed, Illyusha," she teased softly, crooking her fingers fondly at her lover in an effort to get him to take off the shirt.

"Am I?" he said, watching Sinthia. "Would you like to do something about it?" Smiling, he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed. "Care to do something about it?" he looked invitingly at Solo.

The other man smiled, "I certainly would." He climbed up on the bed on the other side of Sinthia.

"Perhaps I should let you both undress me?" Illya said.

Sinthia looked between them, and smiled as she sat up, scooting around behind Illya, toying with the openings of his jacket. "Maybe we should take you up on that," she chuckled, kneeling and threading her fingers up through Illya's hair, newly shorn again to his favored short length. She kissed the back of his neck, leaning her head over to smile at Solo.

"Beautiful man," she murmured in soft Russian, hands sliding to his hips, and extending one to Solo. "Two of them."

"I would like that," he teased, giving a little shiver when she fluffed his hair and kissed his neck. Illya liked his hair neat, but Sinthia loved to run her fingers through it and muss it up.

Solo smiled, watching them as she ruffled his hair like a little boy. It was cute, even if for a portion of a second, Illya looked annoyed by it. Solo moved closer to the couple at her invitation and took her hand. He gave Sintia a charming smile, but leaned closer to the tall Russian to kiss his lips. Illya's lips tasted of whiskey, but also of the lime and vodka. It was an interesting flavor. While he kissed the big man, he took hold of his jacket and pushed it down off Illya's shoulders. So that she could take it the rest of the way off him.

Solo carefully untucked Illya's turtleneck sweater and proceeded to carefully peel it from him without hurting his shoulder. He tossed the shirt off the bed to join Illya's jacket. The man was pale, but covered in all of those interesting tattoos. He had a fluff of blonde chest hair just below his collar bones. And as he recovered, he was rebuilding his muscle tone. "See you've already marked him," he chuckled running a finger over the hickey on his neck. "That explains why he'd cover up such a beautiful body."

She loved seeing him imperfect, not as presented as he styled himself to appear in public; she liked seeing him be human. And she took the jacket once it was past the curve of his shoulders, pulling it off as her fingers tangled momentarily with Solo's. She watched his shirt come off too and lifted her hand to the inked words on his back, whispering them against Illya's skin before she looked up at mention of the little bruise.

"He hasn't returned it yet," Sinthia murmured. "He seems to think I'm fragile." It's certainly easy to mistake her for that with a very feminine build and carriage, and the lack of obvious scars on her--though she had a few, one notably under her breast where she'd taken a bullet.

"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?"

Sinthia's hands hadn't left Illya for long, and when he explained the tattoo meaning--something she hadn't expected him to do to someone they'd not known for very long--they stilled entirely, surprised and letting Solo slip his hands around her boyfriend's waist. His knuckles grazed her through the material where her thighs joined the rest of her, since she had been leaning close.

Them standing left Sinthia alone on the bed and she slid back to watch the two, putting her back to something solid without thinking about it as she undressed herself and revealed her very nearly tattoo- and scarless body. There were only one or two visible; the tattoo on the arch of her foot didn't draw much attention and the crown on the back of her neck would have to be seen from another angle. But the tiny round scar underneath the swell of her breast could be seen as she pulled off her bra and camisole.

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