Physical Therapy for Sist3r_Sin

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"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.

Comments

[abyssum_invocat]

"Everything looks good on you," Sinthia replied, twisting her hair up off her neck. "And it looks better off you, on the floor," she teased. She knew he was wearing a turtleneck to conceal the hickey she'd given him (by accident, but still) at the base of his throat.

She helped Illya out of her somewhat low-set car, and locked it with the remote key, happy to be out and about with her boyfriend, to have some of that worry eased. "So, Italian fashion. Are you going to give me a primer before we dive into this exhibit?" she asked.

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"Thank you," he said laughing. "The same could be said of you. I know what we'll be doing when we get home."

It was a couple of blocks walk from the museum. When he got out of the car, he offered her his arm. "Okay. Before World War 2, Italy had a flourishing fashion industry. When Mussolini came to power, that changed. Everything had to be state approved, color, design, material. Anyone caught using things that weren't state sanctioned could be jailed or shot. In just a few years, their fashion industry was completely destroyed. There was a Countess, a fashion designer, I don't remember her name, but she defied Mussolini and spent ten years in prison. When Mussolini was overthrown, she was released. She was married to a Frenchman, who was also a fashion designer. After the war, the two of them basically rebuilt the Italian fashion industry. My mother told me the story when I was little. She admired the Countess."

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"It's a nice story," she said, wrapping her arm around his and holding his hand as she listened to him talk.

"I'm glad you found this exhibit, I wouldn't have looked for it," Sinthia murmured. She herself hadn't particularly planned on going anywhere this weekend before Illya had shown her the museum leaflet; she'd spent two days having to dress up for a particular client at her job, being the particular kind of man.

"Have you ever given thought to being a fashion designer?" she asks. "You already arrange my clothes and yours."

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"I have been thinking about doing something along those lines," he said as they reached the museum and he opened the door for her. It was true, he did arrange their clothes. Illya knew that he was lucky that Sinthia allowed him to do that.

He was excited to see this exhibit. They wandered through it looking at the amazing clothing and reading about the history of it. Illya wore an expression on his face not unlike the one he had when they'd seen the Faberge exhibit.

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"You'd look good in that," Sinthia laughed, pointing to one of the suits worn in Roman Holiday, displayed next to a dress from the same movie. Sinthia was enjoying herself with an entirely normal afternoon-to-evening date with her boyfriend, bonding over something he liked.

Her smile grew when she spotted a somewhat familiar head of dark hair between them and the next exhibit section. "Illya. Look," she said, nodding that way. "Do you want to catch up to him?"

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He looked at the display showing the poster for Roman Holiday behind Audrey Hepburn's dress and Gregory Peck's suit from the movie. "You would look good in the dress." He liked that they could share this with her.

Turning when she told him, he could see Solo standing among the crowd looking at the exhibit. Illya hadn't seen him outside of his office before. He was dressed in a dark suit. He smiled, "Let's."

He walked up behind the other man. "I did not know you had an interest in fashion, Solo."

Solo turned and smiled at them, "Illya, Sinthia, how good to see you. I didn't know you were interested in fashion either."

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"I wouldn't fit in her dress, she was smaller than I am," Sinthia chuckled, and followed Illya towards the physical therapist; she didn't keep her hand on Illya while they talked, smiling at the two men and enjoying seeing Illya smile.

"You look good in Versace, Mr. Solo," she commented, not precisely hanging back but taking the half a second to enjoy the sight of two attractive men. "Would you like to walk with us?"

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"Thank you," Solo said. He did look quite handsome. "I would love to."

They continued their walk through the exhibit, occasionally stopping and discussing the beautiful fashions. When they got to the end, they exited through the gift shop. Illya purchased a copy of the book that went with the traveling exhibit on their way out.

"Do you have any plans after this,Solo?" Illya asked. When the physical therapist admittedthat he didn't, Illya invited him out for a drink.

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"We can give you a ride," Sinthia chimed in, hands in her pockets as she followed them; for once she had her hair up, though it was still draped enough to hide the crown tattoo. "I'd love to have you join us."

She smiled at him, toying with the belt on her shirt; though she wasn't as immediately attracted as Illya, she wasn't completely uninterested. "If you want."

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"I'd like that. Thank you," he said. Solo had liked Illya right away. And truly he was attracted to Sinthia as well. He had taken a cab to the museum, so it would be nice to get a ride home after whatever came of this. He had a feeling if he went out drinking with the couple it might lead to more.

"Our car is this way," Illya said offering his arm to Sinthia. Smiling, Solo followed them.

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"You mean my car," Sinthia teased. "Given you're not driving it." She felt comfortable teasing her liver in front of another man, easily comfortable with her station in this potential arrangement. "You dress very well outside work, Mr. Solo," Sinthia told the dark haired man, liking the smile he gave at compliments.

"I haven't met many Americans who do. But my job may not be the best to judge by." Her co-workers tended to dress up for work and add far as she knew down for everything else.

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"Sinthia is playing chauffer until I can handle car safely," Illya admitted. He wasn't up to handling the shift without making his shoulder ache yet, but the way Solo kept him working, he would be soon. "You look very... Dapper."

Solo blushed a little, "Thank you. I actually don't get much chance to wear the Versace. I thought going to the opening of the Italian fashion exhibit would be fitting." He adjusted his tie a little. The elegant drape of the suit hid his muscular physique. Though it showed off his broad shoulders. Last time he had worn the suit was to a cousin's wedding.

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"Well. It is how I get to work," she chuckled, keeping pace with the new third of their party so they could talk.

"It certainly is fitting. So what brought you here? Passing interest, or is it a passion?"

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"What kind of work do you do?" Solo asked.

"It's kind of a passion. Jewelry in particular," he confessed.

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"Jewelry and antiquities appraisal at Christie's," she said, though she glanced at Illya as if to make sure he wouldn't be surprised she didn't include her less legal jobs, though he was as practiced a casual liar as she was. Odd, for a couple that rarely lied to each other.

"So what got you into physical therapy?"

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"I've always been interested in medicine. At first I thought I wanted to be a surgeon, but after the first biology class where we had to dissect a corpse." He gave a shiver. "I decided I'd go for something a little less invasive and that would make people feel good. While I was going to medical school, I worked at a gym nights. I got into bodybuilding as a kid and the physical therapy and exercise just seemed to go together." He shrugged, "And here I am. What about you, Illya? What do you do for a living."

"I am currently unemployed. I was law enforcement until the injury. The shoulder was not the only bullet wound." Solo had already seen him without a shirt and would have seen the fresh scars on his shoulder and his leg. The one on his head wasn't that noticeable, luckily. "I took medical retirement," he said as they reached the car.

"You can probably tell, I love fashion," he said changing the subject. "My mother was model and fashion designer. I learned from her. I am thinking to get into fashion industry either as designer or consultant."

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Sinthia wasn't overly squeamish about dead bodies--or live ones in various states of disrepair--but she mimicked Solo's shiver as she started the car, listening rather than talking much. "So. Do you boys want to find a bar, or just let me make you something at home?"

She was amenable to either option, being fairly handy at mixing drinks and liking the rather more intimate nature.

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Illya looked over the back of the seat at their guest as he belted into the back seat behind Sinthia. There was more room for him there than on the passenger side, where the tall Russian had pushed back his seat to accommodate his long legs. Solo's legs were not quite as long and he was able to sit comfortably back there. "What do you think?" Illya asked Solo.

He had the feeling that they both wanted a little more intimate locale. "Your place would be just fine," he said.

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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."

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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.

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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.

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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.

[abyssum_invocat]

"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.

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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."

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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.