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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.
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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"You two are gorgeous," she murmured, letting Illya kiss her before she bent down to Solo, fingers gently stroking his cock again as her tongue darted out to taste his come, lips sucking at his dick and licking up his come from his skin, careful of the sensitive spots.
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He reached down to run his fingers through Sinthia's hair. Seeing the tattoo of the crown beneath her hair, he was curious. But would wait to ask about it later.
Slipping out of Solo, Illya collapsed beside him. Touching his skin, kissing him. Touching both of them. "So are you, moya malen'kaya koroleva."
"What... What does that mean?" Solo asked, curious.
Next to him, Illya smiled, "It is Sinthia. She is my little queen." He watched Solo play with her hair.
The tattoo made sense to Solo then. Even if it wasn't what it meant original meaning.
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"But I objected to princess," Sinthia murmured, "And I don't quite have anything else that makes sense."
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"Pit-chick-a," Solo tried out the word. He loved languages. He spoke both German and Italian fluently, but Russian sounded like it had too many cosonents. Or like you were tring to speak around a mouthful of marbles. "What does it mean?" He asked sleepily.
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"It means songbird," she said. It was how she'd known nearly positively that Illya was not a typical Vor; he hadn't tried to kill her for calling him that.
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"Poor Napoleon, I think we wore him out," Illya said, moving so that he could cuddle up to Sinthia. He kissed the crown tattoo on the back of her neck. "Thank you, my darling, for letting me do this."
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"I liked this. And Solo," she whispered, smiling. "Would you want to keep seeing him?"
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"I am," Solo murmured raising his hand. He was only partially awake, but he knew he did not want this to end. It was the first time in a while that he had felt like something might go farther than a one night stand. He rolled to his side, so that he was facing them.
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"This was good, though," she murmured, letting herself fall asleep between the boys. It wasn't long, but she felt rested when she blinked herself awake at the soft whine coming from the floor on the other side of the bed; Avi had evidently nosed the door open upon getting hungry. Sinthia slide out from between Solo and Illya, pulling on what were technically pajamas and leading her dog back to the kitchen, talking to him as he rubbed his elegant head against her legs.
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Illya fell asleep with his nose buried in Sinthia's long hair. It had become his usual position, since he didn't dare sleep on his right shoulder.
A little after Sinthia woke, Solo stirred. He noted her absence from the bed. Her getting up didn't wake him. He was usually a light sleeper, but being with Illya and Sinthia was very comfortable. No, this time it was his insistent bladder that woke him up.
He stifled a groan as he slipped out of bed. Solo was still sore from their earlier activities. He'd have to learn not to be so greedy with the big Russian if he wanted to walk normally in the morning. Naked, he wandered out into the apartment. He saw Sinthia feeding the dog, "Bathroom?"
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She watched Solo depart, still naked, with a small smile as she sat down at the dining room table, watching the sunrise flirt with the far eastern horizon beyond the edge of the island. It was a good morning as far she was concerned; she could go back to bed if she wanted, since it was a Saturday and she had no place to be, and it was a strong temptation as she watched Avi eat.
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She wouldn't begrudge him that, because she knew how desire worked and how tricky it was. "I don't want to make either of you unhappy."
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"I'm not at all unhappy that you and I both like Illya. I like you too."
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Sky blue eyes cracked open when they came in, "Where you go?" Illya asked them, his accent thick from sleep. His blonde hair was sleep mussed which gave the big Russian a boyish look Solo immediately found charming.
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