Snow crunched under their boots as they marched towards the military base, puffing along with their baggage. Curious soldiers who were taking their evening smoke break watched, muttering to one another as they scrutinised the newcomers. One tall and bald, an older looking man with a thick beard, one with sly looking eyes and lips twisted into a smirk, then the last one. Young, bright eyes and a head of curly hair, definitely younger than the age of thirty. The SAS, the soldiers heard their accents from a mile away and recognised it. Behind them followed the men of the Spetsnaz, the soldiers were familiar with them.
“Never been to Russia before,” the young one spoke, teeth chattering from the cold and his own excitement. That was Mark Chandar, also known as Mute. A new addition to the SAS on his first mission. “It’s cold!”
“Don’t be expecting temperatures above five degrees Celsius,” responded his colleague, the man with a catlike gaze, he gave a chuckle. The soldiers would go on to learn his codename was Smoke. “Suppose we could ask Six to send us to Spain instead? Perhaps the terrorists could take over a holiday resort instead. I’d quite like that.”
Thatcher, the eldest, rolled his eyes. “Yet the last time we got sent to Hong Kong, you complained it was too hot.”
“I’m just saying, I’d appreciate it if we were sent somewhere where I wasn’t freezing or sweating my arse off. That’s all.”
“No terrorists in England… fortunately,” Sledge interjected and brushed the snowflakes off his head. “It’ll only be for a week, pet. You’ll be fine,” he said sarcastically with a grin. “Did you pack your fluffy socks?”
“Aye, the pink ones you got me last Christmas,” Smoke said and nodded. “And I’m wearing the yellow ones you got me the Christmas before that. I’ve got plenty to share, so don’t you worry, Mark. You look like you’ve got hypothermia, bloody hell.”
The young operator looked alarmed at being addressed. “Thank you, sir- James. I appreciate it,” he murmured back with a smile.
The inside of the military base wasn’t much warmer than it was outside, but being sheltered from the falling snow was a relief. Mute ran his hands through his hair to rid the nestling snowflakes and his eyes scanned the long, grey hallways where young soldiers congregated. They were a noisy lot, many fooling around and joking in their mother tongue, too busy to notice them as they walked by. Eventually they reached a small corridor of vacant rooms, two beds per room.
Instead of sticking to their usual routine pairings, both CTU’s decided they would share rooms with each other. It wouldn’t hurt to socialise, Thatcher had pointed out and made the decision to room with Tachanka, an old friend. Sledge opted for Fuze, Smoke gravitated towards Glaz and left Mute to sidle up to Kapkan.
He dumped his bag onto his bed and began to unpack, putting his toiletries out in a meticulous manner, his shoes under his bed. He was a creature of habit. For a while he did this absentmindedly, placing his folded clothes in a pile on the table next to his bed then shoving his bag under his bed. He paused when he noticed the quietness of the room and he looked over his shoulder, only to catch Kapkan watching him.
Kapkan gave a chuckle and looked back down at his phone. He was already sprawled on his own bed, his bag still zipped. “Already made yourself at home?” He asked and that was the first time Mute even heard him speak English.
“Aye, yeah. I like to be organised,” Mute answered and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around to see if he needed to do anything else. Sharing a room with someone else other than Smoke made him realise how awkward he could be. The sound of the two of them breathing made him uncomfortable, the silence was unbearable.
He watched as Kapkan sat up and responded to a text.
“Timur says food will be served soon. We should get going, the lines fill up quite quickly,” Kapkan suggested.
By the time they got down to the cafeteria there was a steady queue forming. It was some kind of stew for dinner, it tasted better than it looked, along with a hunk of bread. They all settled down at a table in the far corner of the hall and opened a bottle of vodka between them all. After a couple shots, the Russians seemed much more talkative, their usual stoic faces replaced with little smiles. Mute himself had a couple shots too and found his head feeling light, not just from the alcohol but all the laughing.
They were still around their own table when everyone else had left, still tackling the big bottle which Tachanka had generously bought. Eventually Mute had departed from the table before Glaz could pour him another shot, he didn’t want to be too hungover the next morning and decided it would be wise to get a good night’s rest before more training tomorrow.
He went through his regiment of a hot shower before bed, shaved his face despite barely even having a stubble and slinked back into his room where he patted in some aftershave. Just as he did so he heard Kapkan enter and their eyes met briefly in the mirror. He still felt eyes on him as he popped the cap off his moisturiser, squeezed a small amount onto his finger and smeared it onto his skin, rubbing in the cream.
It wasn’t an understatement to say Mute found it incredibly hard to read Kapkan. He found himself smiling confusedly during every interaction with him, unable to place him into the neat categories that he usually put people in when he met them. For example he knew Smoke was the joking type, the type of person he could shoot the shit with, and then there was Thatcher, while he enjoyed humour he preferred sensibility every now again. Likewise with the Russians. Tachanka was easy-going, humorous too. In contrast, Fuze was a little dryer, but great to talk to when discussing gadgets and always spoke the hard truth. Not too different from Sledge, Glaz often provided a good conversation, it was impossible to not have lingering thoughts after talking to neither of them.
Then there was Kapkan. A big anomaly. Mute couldn’t quite pinpoint where he fitted in, whether he was humorous or serious, talkative or quiet. Often times he threw out the odd joke or hit Mute with unexpected sarcasm, yet Mute couldn’t find the rhythm with him, his demeanour suggested seriousness, yet sometimes he was just as bad as Smoke. Other times he would start a conversation with Mute, though when Mute tried to do the same he was given blunt responses that clearly told him to go away. Kapkan was no different to the weather back in England- constantly changing and unable to predict.
Mute warmed his hands over the space radiator which Fuze had kindly donated to them. He was huddled up in multiple layers, a thermal then a long-sleeve, followed by a t-shirt and lastly his hoodie. Then on his feet he had sported a pair of bright green fluffy socks which Smoke lent to him, his sweatpants tucked in to prevent any cool air from snaking up his trouser leg.
Across from him, Kapkan lounged in a tank top with a thin jacket on, his eyes focused on the glowing screen of his phone. “Cold?” He asked, his voice interrupting the rhythmic sound of their breathing.
Mute looked up at him. “Freezing, sir,” he murmured back and rubbed his hands together a few times. It seemed as if his body simply couldn’t retain the heat no matter how long he remained huddled close to the radiator. “Sorry. I have a habit of addressing people as ‘sir.’”
Kapkan shut off his phone and sat up. “You’ll get used to the cold here too soon enough,” he said as he fumbled through his bag. He pulled out a medium sized bottle of whisky. “Drink with me? It’ll warm you up.”
Despite telling himself he wouldn’t drink anymore, Mute didn’t fail to respond with, “Sure, why not?”
Kapkan procured two glasses and filled them generously with the golden liquid, a smile growing on his face as he admired how the light bounced off the surface of the whisky. They clinked glasses and drunk, Kapkan managed to slug down a good third of his but Mute sipped it and coughed.
“I’m not used to anything this strong,” he said with a chuckle, embarrassed when Kapkan laughed. “I’ll be passed out by the time I’m finished with this.”
“Don’t drink much?”
“No. I spent a large amount of my teenage and adult years staring at computers instead of going out and drinking,” Mute admitted and shrugged. “I still spend all my time in front of a computer, unless James drags me to the pub.”
“I heard you graduated quite early from school. University at fourteen years old is impressive,” Kapkan said. There was something inquisitive about his gaze, as if he was trying to gauge Mute’s reaction. “When I was fourteen, me and my friends were skipping our English lessons to smoke cigarettes.” The both of them laughed, Mute mimicked him and sipped from his glass as well. “How old are you?”
“Erm… twenty six. Almost forgot, that’s how silly I am.” Mute couldn’t stop himself from becoming noticeably flustered and he knew the Russian caught every slight motion, tracking even the tiniest reactions.
Kapkan nodded. “Young,” came his small comment and he allowed a silence to simmer between them. The whisky sloshed as he poured himself more and topped up Mute’s glass as well. “It must be… disorientating to go to university at a young age. I can’t imagine it.”
“Yeah. I didn’t quite have a normal childhood. I didn’t go out and fool around, never had the chance to date anyone ‘cos everyone around me was older. Though I’m lucky. I’m grateful I was given the opportunities I had otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” Mute said and hummed softly under his breath. “Though sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I was just a regular guy. Maybe I’d have a relationship or a normal job.”
Kapkan’s lips twisted into a gentle smile. His eyes rested on the ground for a while, then locked back onto Mute’s face. His expression shifted to something mischievous. “Are you a virgin?” Came the daring question that made Mute choke on his drink. “I’m curious.”
For a few seconds Mute questioned if he heard him right then composed himself. “No, sir-“ he realised his mistake but continued to talk. “Proud to say I’m not a virgin,” he said and chuckled. “If you’re going to ask me about my sex life, don’t bother. It’s about as interesting as Seamus’s rugby shirt collection.”
“With a man or a woman?”
Alcohol lowered inhibitions, broke down any kind of boundaries. Kapkan didn’t hesitate to ask these questions in the same way Mute didn’t think twice about answering them.
“A man, actually. A man I met when I was twenty. We dated for a year or so,” Mute told him and couldn’t help but to find it incredibly weird how he could easily pour out this information. Perhaps he wanted Kapkan to know he liked men, maybe he really did enjoy how his accent made his spine tingle in a good way. “I’ve never done it with a girl. Don’t have plans to.”
“Do you enjoy being on top or do you prefer being on the bottom?”
Mute laughed once more. “What’s next? Do I prefer missionary or doggy style?”
“Do you cry when you orgasm? You look like you do.”
“You’re a really forward guy, Maxim. You are,” he said and took a longer drink from his glass. He had grown accustomed to the strong taste and savoured it in his mouth, enjoying how it burnt as it rushed down his throat. “Do you always flirt like that?”
There was a dark glint in Kapkan’s eyes. He cleared his own glass and set it on his bedside table. “Stand up, Chandar,” he commanded in his soft voice, so low and gravelly it made Mute’s hairs stand on end. “Tell me, are you still cold?”
Mute felt his breath hitch and did as he was told. “Yeah,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling so submissive as Kapkan circled him, prowling like a predator.
“That’s ‘ yes, sir’ to you.”
His entire body tensed when he felt hot breath ghosting over his nape. “Yes, sir,” he repeated softly and moved his head to look at Kapkan. A hand brushed his jaw, coaxing him to keep his head forwards. He felt Kapkan’s hands running over his body, first making contact at his waist to steady his body then snaking to coil around his middle section as his lips attacked his neck, sucking at the stretch of milky white skin. “A-ah,” came his quiet moan when Kapkan nibbled gently at his neck.
His hand ventured lower to brush over the bulge forming in his sweatpants. “Hard already?” Kapkan teased and smirked at how he got him so needy by just brushing his palm against it. “Don’t come until I say so, understand?”
“Yes, s-sir,” Mute stammered back, his nerves beginning to get to him. His entire body was sensitive all over when Kapkan’s hands managed to wriggle through all four layers of his clothes to feel his warm skin. He inhaled sharply at the contact of his icy hands, his skin flinching. “Your hands are cold.”
“A little cold won’t kill you. Get on your knees.” Kapkan began to undo the button on his cargo trousers and tugged down the zip. He pushed his trousers down mid thigh and began to stroke himself through his tight briefs, admiring the sight of Mute on his knees, waiting ever so patiently. He didn’t object when Mute began to touch him, squeezing his erection through the smooth fabric of his underwear, feeling how hard he grew and the way his precum began to ooze out, creating a dark grey patch. “Show me that mouth of yours,” he went on to order as he pushed his briefs down as well.
Mute felt himself salivating when he eyed Kapkan’s thick cock, admiring the veins and the bulbous head. His pubic hair was trimmed short at the base, an ashy brown just like the hair on his head. His tongue darted out between his lips, beginning to lap at the precum that dribbled out as if it was a treat. He suckled on the tip, lips pursed tightly around his cock as his tongue stroked at the underside. Hearing Kapkan groan was something he didn’t expect to be so satisfying to his ears.
“Look at me,” Kapkan murmured as he palmed Mute’s cheek, feeling how soft his skin was. He let out a contented sigh when Mute took more of him in, enjoying the wet heat around him. It was nearly addictive. His hand moved to the bedside table and he unscrewed the cap of the whisky bottle, poured himself some more. He took a long drink from his glass, still watching how Mute sucked and licked his cock. “Gorgeous,” he praised softly as he ran a hand through his curls, admiring his silky locks before snaring them in his fingers.
Mute braced himself and put his hands on the back of Kapkan’s thighs, he relaxed his throat and tried to breathe through his nose as Kapkan’s hips began to thrust slowly. He choked around him, his throat barely able to accommodate his girth but Kapkan was insistent, his grip on his hair tightening as he pushed him lower. Mute held back a gag and felt tears gathering in his eyes, he grasped Kapkan’s thighs in slight protest but the sounds of him choking on his cock seemed to only arouse him more.
Kapkan pulled out and allowed him to catch his breath, though only for a few seconds, a smirk across his face as he looked down, his fingers still tangled in his hair. He held him steady as he brushed Mute’s lips with his cock, pushing in as the younger man opened his mouth once more. His hips thrust at a steady pace, balls smacking against Mute’s spit-slicken chin.
After a few minutes Kapkan stopped and brought him back to his feet. He kissed Mute firmly, slipping his tongue in occasionally as his hands groped and squeezed his ass. In return Mute stroked his cock and fondled his balls, admiring how plump they were. He groaned under his breath as Kapkan’s stubble scratched against his cheek, his lips peppering kisses along his jawline until he reached his neck where he left a trail of love bites in the most visible areas, wanting everyone to know what they have done. Good thing Mute brought a scarf with him.
Kapkan removed his own jacket then gripped the hem of Mute’s hoodie and pulled it off. “Too many clothes,” he muttered disapprovingly and stripped everything off until Mute was shirtless. “Better.”
Mute felt goosebumps rise as Kapkan’s hands ran over his skin, caressing his muscles. His hands were warmer now, but still felt cool as he slipped beneath his underwear and his fingers coiled around Mute’s leaking erection, giving it a firm squeeze before stroking him. It didn’t take long for Mute to start moaning again, at that point Kapkan had stopped and stepped back to rummage through his bag.
Mute watched eagerly, his hands still balled up by his sides as he resisted the urge to touch himself. His balls were aching for release now, he craved an orgasm but he remained obedient to Kapkan’s orders. Kapkan produced a small bottle of lube and squirted a generous amount onto his index and middle finger, he made sure his fingers were slick before his hand ventured down Mute’s sweatpants. He brushed against the cleft of his ass, teased his hole before pushing in his index finger. Mute gave a gasp and his breaths deepened as he yielded.
“I’m going to come inside you,” Kapkan told him, murmuring into his ear. His accent was thick yet smooth like honey. “I want you to feel it dripping out of you tomorrow morning.”
A strangled moan escaped from Mute and his knees nearly buckled. “Yes please, sir,” he whimpered and cried out once more when Kapkan’s fingers brushed his prostate. The waves of pleasure were unbearable, he could barely remain standing when Kapkan began to massage his prostate. “Oh, sir, I’m gonna- oh fuck, please, sir…”
Kapkan’s fingers slipped out of him. “You have to keep quiet, Chandar. Baker is on the other side of this wall, if you’re too loud he’ll hear how much of a whore you are,” he instructed with a gleeful smirk. “But that’s what you want, don’t you? You want him to know I’m going to fuck you.” He grabbed his sensitive erection, evoking a gasp. “Answer me.”
“Yes, sir,” Mute murmured back, his breaths shuddering as he inhaled.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes, sir!” he said with a hint of desperation, nearly too loud. If it was true, Thatcher would’ve definitely heard him. He felt his skin growing hot with embarrassment.
Kapkan almost laughed and pressed a kiss onto the corner of his lip. “Adorable,” he commented and pulled down Mute’s sweatpants until they pooled around his feet like shackles. The outline of his erection was visible through his white Calvin Kleins, the fabric damp where the tip of his cock was and Kapkan raised a brow, visibly impressed by the amount of precome. “Are you this wet for everyone or just me?”
Mute didn’t answer. The truth was, he couldn’t remember being so turned on by anyone until now and if he really tried, he could probably orgasm from Kapkan talking dirty to him. His lips parted as Kapkan removed his underwear too, allowing them to fall down. He was completely exposed at this point, his entire body revealed to Kapkan for him to glean with his eyes.
“Tell me what you want, Chandar.”
His head was spinning, intoxicated from both alcohol and the pleasure of Kapkan’s hand stroking his cock. Mute struggled to maintain eye contact, his gaze desperately wanting to look down. “I want your cock in me, sir. Give it to me, I want you so bad,” he begged. “Please fuck me, sir. Make me come.”
It was that precise phrase that changed Kapkan. Their lips collided once more in a heated kiss as he pushed Mute down onto his bed. He didn’t waste any time discarding the rest of his clothes and wedged himself between Mute’s legs. “You’ve got a pretty cock,” he said with a hum as he massaged Mute’s balls, then his fingers trailed lower and delved into his lubed hole once more. “And you’re so fucking tight. I can’t wait to make you scream.”
Kapkan pushed his knees to his chest and instructed him to hold them there. He squirted some more lube onto his cock and spread it evenly before he positioned himself and slowly pushed in, engulfed by a heat that contracted around him. Mute couldn’t help it, he let out a loud whine and shut his eyes, overwhelmed by the thickness of Kapkan’s cock.
“Hush,” Kapkan murmured as he leaned forwards and clasped his hand over Mute’s mouth. He began thrusting, almost pulling out before slamming back in with a ferocity that made Mute’s eyebrows furrow upwards as his eyes rolled back, keening with every exhale.
The bed jostled and squealed as they fucked, shaking on its thin metal feet as the headboard hit the concrete walls. They weren’t very considerate neighbours, but at this point neither of them could give a damn. Good thing they weren’t near the recruits, otherwise everyone would be gossiping about the noises they overheard coming from their room. At one point Kapkan considered what he would do in the case that someone knocked on their door, but his teammates had never interrupted him in the past no matter how loud he was.
Their eyes locked. Kapkan found himself captivated by him, how dark eyelashes batted with every blink, the glossiness of his eyes from the tears that gathered. Mute’s breaths were heavy against his palm, the vibrations from his moans ticklish. His curls clung to his sweaty forehead and Kapkan removed his hand, leaned back once more to admire the full view. Swollen lips, love bites scattered all across his skin from his neck down to his collarbones, the red flush on his cheeks that spread down to his chest.
“Get on your hands and knees,” Kapkan gave the breathless order after he pulled out. Shakily, Mute did as he was told and gave a broken groan was Kapkan thrusted back inside. He snaked a hand over Mute’s chest, squeezing and rubbing his perky nipples while his other hand moved to muffle his moans.
The kinkier side to Kapkan surfaced. As he rutted into Mute he sank his teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, hard enough to leave an imprint and make Mute yelp. He brought his hand down to his neck, able to feel his rapid pulse under his skin and he applied gentle pressure. Mute responded with a whine of approval, his head whirling, high off the oxygen deprivation.
“Quiet,” he growled and gave his ass a harsh smack. The sound of his palm cracking against skin resonated and Mute fell silent, his breaths shaky as he forced himself not to make a peep. Kapkan changed the angle of his thrusts, experimenting until he hit the right spot and had Mute grasping the bedsheets for dear life. “Does that feel good?”
Mute nodded. “Y-yes, sir,” he groaned back. He was completely pliant in Kapkan’s hands, his body contorting to his wishes and he nuzzled his face into the pillow when Kapkan lowered him gently and pressed him into the mattress. He could smell Kapkan off the fabric and felt a rush in his body, endorphins flooding every bit of him from his scent to how his hands squeezed and groped everywhere on his body. “I’m so close. Please, sir,” he begged.
“No, not yet,” Kapkan instructed and pressed a kiss onto his nape. His fingers crept around his neck again, rubbing his Adam’s Apple before applying pressure. He let go after a few seconds and watched as Mute panted softly, stunned momentarily and slightly disorientated, though Kapkan was careful to make sure he never passed out. It was almost amusing to him, like an experiment where he tested how long he could push Mute before he had to relax his grip. He loved how Mute squirmed underneath him, the way he gasped and pushed back against him to feel more, like Kapkan’s cock was the best thing he ever had.
“Fuck,” Kapkan uttered and he heaved in another breath, quickly gripping Mute’s hips. “Oh, shit.” He felt his climax coming, the sensation of his balls drawing close to his body, the way his muscles began to tense. “Gonna fill you up,” he warned, nearly growling with each inhale. His body weight forced Mute prone against the mattress, almost smothering him. Kapkan thrusted in deep until he was completely buried and remained tightly pressed against him as he came with low grunts, his breath hot against Mute’s cheek.
At that instance, Mute was on the brink of tipping over the edge. He could feel Kapkan’s cock twitching inside of him, pumping his load with every pulse and throb, filling him up. There was an emptiness inside of him when Kapkan pulled out and Mute let out a huff as he pushed himself onto his elbows, trying to blink away his lightheadedness.
“On your back,” Kapkan went on to order and coaxed him into position. He lubed up and with three fingers, stretched him out again. This time he didn’t tease, when he found his prostate he massaged it languidly, figuring out which way Mute liked it best. With his other hand he pinned Mute’s hands above his head. “Come,” he commanded, finally giving him mercy.
With permission, Mute stopped resisting the urge to orgasm. He felt himself contracting around Kapkan’s fingers as he felt an unbearable tightness in his gut. In attempt to not be too loud he gave a strangled moan, his voice strained as he squeezed his eyes shut and gasped for more air. He hadn’t orgasmed in what seemed to be weeks, his cock spasmed as it squirted an impressive amount of cum. It landed over his pectorals, dripped down his abs.
Mute relaxed his balled fists and looked dazedly at Kapkan, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Kapkan smiled sluggishly in return and leaned forwards, licking a wet strip up his abdomen to taste his ejaculation and watch how Mute grew flustered.
After they caught their breath, Mute sat up and wiped at his damp cheeks. His head pounded and while the whisky only made it worse, he drank some more to hydrate himself. Shakily, he stood up and stumbled to put his clothes back on, his legs trembling with every step and he felt tender all over. Half-dressed, he looked over at Kapkan who was reclining on his bed, stretched out and watching with a sly gaze, probably sneaking a last view at his perky ass.
“You cried when you came,” Kapkan noted and chuckled. “I knew it.”
“Only a little,” Mute murmured back and crawled into his own bed, too spent and weary to do anything else.
Breakfast was awkward next morning. The walls were thinner than anyone had expected, and sure enough everyone was stealing glances at Kapkan and Mute when they arrived late in the cafeteria. Kapkan remained stoic as always and sat down, tucked into his meal as if nothing had happened. On the other hand, Mute was overwhelmed by the sudden awareness that everyone heard him the night before. He sat down next to Sledge, completely mortified and stared down at his porridge, too afraid to even look Thatcher in the eye.
“Talk about, erm… late-night entertainment, hm?” Smoke began to speak and gave a gruff laugh. “Is it just me or is Mark walking a little funny today?”
“ Yes, sir, ” Sledge affirmed with an amused grin, his brow cocked as he looked over at Mute. “It was like someone was playing them professionally made videos… Christ almighty.”
Thatcher slugged down his tea and his eyes glanced at the Russians who seemed to be turning a blind eye to what had happened. He cleared his throat. “Lay off the lad,” he murmured. “He’s embarrassed enough as he already is.”
Tentative, Mute picked up his spoon and began to eat, though his appetite had disappeared the second he saw how the others were looking at him. It was the dread settling in. For sure Smoke would never stop reminding him of this until the day he died. Despite the embarrassment, Mute remembered Kapkan’s words and considered for a moment maybe he enjoyed this kind of humiliation, as strange as it seemed. His eyes flicked up momentarily and found themselves locked with Kapkan’s gaze.
This entire time, Kapkan was staring at him, smirking.