Special Forces: Soldiers Vashtan/Aleksandr Voinov and Marquesate

Vadim gave a groan, the words, the images, the promise. Bleed. Hurt. Pain. 

Owning. Never enough. Lust welled up, washed the pain away, if only for a 

moment, he knew it would return, and he knew that whatever pain Dan would give 

him, would help him deal with that other pain. He stared up into those manic and 

hurt dark eyes, and nodded. “Make me bleed. I want to taste my blood on your lips 

so I know I’ll live.” 

I’ll live. Vadim’s eyes strayed, for a moment, towards where he’d left the 

pistol. Suddenly, suicide was an option. Fuck their hearts and minds out, then 

swear a suicide pact. It would just end. It would end on a good note, and after that, 

nothing. Not being apart, ever again. No suffering, no pain. He was willing to do it. 

He was perfectly capable of that. Then he looked back into Dan’s eyes, and his 

hands touched the scars on his abdomen. Dan, torn up, Dan suffering, Dan, weak 

and human like any other casualty. He was willing to die, but he wanted Dan to 

live. He felt an embarrassing wetness come up in his eyes and forced it down. 

Dan’s hand suddenly moved, covered Vadim’s hand on his own abdomen, 

pressing closer, hard, until fingers dug into scars and flesh. His weight unbalanced, 

he spread his legs further, while swooping down. “You’ll remember tonight.” 

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Teeth digging into soft flesh of neck and throat, right above the cigarette burn. The 

bite answered by a drawn-out groan. “You’ll remember me.” 

“Always…to my last breath. Last bullet. Last thought.” 

Lips moving, cursing, loving, whispering, Dan had no conscious idea what 

he was doing, nor why, nor how. Didn’t know if he was even audible. “You’ll wear 

me on your skin, and in return I’ll carry you in my flesh.” 

“Do it.” Daring Dan, daring himself, daring the whole fucking world with 

this, complete freedom in destruction and pain if they could have nothing else, 

they’d take this. Vadim felt an odd, fierce pride at this thought. 

Dan was biting, then, along jaw and throat, down to shoulders and chest. 

His body came down, crushing both their hands between their bodies, trapping 

their cocks. 

Vadim moved against Dan, free hand on the last curve of his spine, above 

the ass, pressing him in with all his strength, and pushing up to grind against him, 

already dizzy with lust, stoked with pain. All he wanted was to burn to nothing. 

Could feel the bite marks throb and heat his skin further, knew he’d look bad, but 

didn’t care. The Afghan sweetheart was one fierce bitch. 

When Dan looked up his eyes were on fire, the almost black eyes of a 

madman, and the madness was nothing but pain. Pain and fear; fear of ever more 

pain, because this was it, the last time, the final time, no matter how hard he tried 

to hope. “Do you remember the first blow job? Do you remember the knife?” He 

came up, lifted away from the friction to sit on his heels. “Do you remember all of 

the last nine years?” 

Vadim nodded, pressing his lips together. He’d never forget that fear, 

another guilty pleasure because it could still arouse him, the memory of it. Spread 

out for the kill, mind fucked, while Dan tried out how to drive him insane. He 

managed to speak, finally: “The…only thing that means anything,” he whispered. 

“You. Our time.” 

Dan was reaching forward, searched beneath the pillow and pulled out his 

favourite knife. Old paranoid habits died hard, and sometimes they came in handy. 

“This time it’ll be for real.” He pressed the blade against his own chest, skin 

warming up steel, becoming a part of himself. “Spread your legs, Vadim. Open up 

for me.” 

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For real? Knife? Vadim flushed, lust stronger than any fear. Whatever Dan 

planned. Cut him, gut him, he didn’t care, was too far gone, too desperate, too 

much in love and lust. He nodded, hoped Dan would read from it he was ready for 

anything, then pushed his legs apart, brought the knees up. Hands reached up for 

the pillow, stretched now, chest and stomach taut. Whatever happened, he’d never 

regret this. Dan did it, that meant it was all good. And it wasn’t about dying, not 

anymore. Never again. 

“I don’t need a whole word this time.” Dan murmured hoarsely, transfixed 

on Vadim’s body. How it lay open, as if for slaughter, trusting him with his sanity 

and his life. “Don’t move. Whatever happens.” His left hand came to rest on the 

inside of Vadim’s thigh. Fingers splayed as they pressed into the muscle until the 

skin was pulled taut. “You’re still my pizda, my cunt…” quiet voice, Dan’s throat 

felt oddly constricted, “but ‘cunt’ means lover.” 

“I know.” Vadim kept his eyes on the tip of the knife. He hadn’t just 

accepted to be cut? Had he? He remembered the pain on his back, and it had been 

agony. Agony and a lifetime of shame. He brought his hands back down and 

cupped his knee in his hand, steadying it in case the pain would be too bad. Felt 

himself begin to sweat. “I’ll be…steady.” 

The knife came down, once more, after nine years, the circle was closing as 

the blade started to cut into highly sensitive, smooth flesh. Away from the artery, 

but as close to cock and balls, and as much hidden from view, as Dan could 

manage. Razor-sharp steel cutting the first line into the flesh. Deep enough to scar, 

deep enough to mean it. 

Vadim groaned with clenched teeth, the pain was keen, keen and clear, 

sharp, and it made his cock jump. He’d have expected himself faltering, but the 

lust was just as steady as his grip. No, it grew. Just the place, the very lethal 

possibility, and that close to his balls. He breathed the pain down, accepted it. 

Dan could hardly breathe, his cock so hard, he felt it throbbing, close to 

pain. Again, the blade moved, lines filling with blood, making Vadim groan once 

more, pain and lust mixing in that sound, and a shudder raced through the powerful 

body. 

Only one letter, it was all Dan needed, and it would stay with Vadim 

forever. “You’re mine.” He whispered, the last cut, blood red against pale flesh. He 

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suddenly dove down, tongue lapping and lips moving across the Cyrillic letter that 

stood for all of ‘mine’. 

Vadim hissed, arching up, half expecting Dan to swallow him, but he didn’t, 

instead the sucking in a more intimate place, if that was possible. His blood. 

Wanted that blowjob that had been part of the deal last time, and gave a grin, 

nodding, accepting all this without questioning – knowing what Dan had ‘written’. 

“Yours.” 

“As much as I am yours.” When Dan came up his lips were smeared with 

blood, pressing the knife into Vadim’s hand. Tit for tat this time. No more battles. 

“Cut me.” 

Vadim rolled onto the side, the bite of the wound constant, but he didn’t 

care. “I want them to see it,” he murmured, grinning, and Dan simply nodded and 

kneeled. No protest, only complete submission. For once. 

Vadim moved out from under Dan, hypnotised by his bloodied lips. Better 

than cum. He moved to kiss Dan’s neck, the taut shoulder, and put the blade 

against Dan’s powerful biceps. Where any uniform bore the flag. Pressing the steel 

in, with a moment of resistance, but the blade was fucking sharp and went slowly 

in, and blood began to run. 

Dan hissed, eyes closing for a moment while his hands clenched into fists, 

tensing until every muscle in his body stood out. It hurt, but it seemed right that his 

cock jumped. Despite the pain of the marking, or because of it. No way back. 

Vadim licked his lips, pulled the blade back, and placed the tip at the lower 

end of the cut, pushed it into the wound and pulled it back up, forming the English 

letter ‘V’, point towards the left elbow, while Dan shuddered, breathing harshly 

and fast, to deal with the pain. His blood dripped onto the bed and stained the white 

sheets. Vadim dipped down, licking the blood from Dan’s hand, up to where the 

wound was. 

Dan turned his head, he couldn’t see, but he didn’t have to ask, had felt the 

blade and only one letter could form a meaning with two diagonal strokes. “I wear 

you on my skin.” He murmured, hoarsely, while watching Vadim, “and I want to 

fuck myself into your body. Until I can go no further, until you are so sore and 

used, your arsehole will never be tight again. Will never again accept another man, 

like you accepted me.” 

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Vadim swallowed blood and spit, grinned with stained teeth. “Can’t have 

anybody take me. You won me when you broke me, but that’s it. Won’t have it. 

Nobody else’s bitch.” He grew a touch more serious, leaned in for the kiss, mixing 

blood and taste again, hands digging into Dan’s mane. Teeth clashed, Dan tasted 

metal and blood, the kiss nothing but furious. A rage that came from a depth he’d 

never encountered before. Hands clawing, arms holding, then pushing, blood 

smearing across their bodies, staining the sheets. Two ‘enemies’, and both the 

same colour, their blood. Red—for the Soviet Union—for Britain. Red in both 

their flags. 

Losing balance, Dan landed on top, across Vadim’s body, while he kissed 

and bit, mauled in return. Pain burning in so many places, it helped to forget and 

would help to remember. “Kneel.” 

Vadim’s eyes flared with lust, baring his teeth in part grin, part snarl, the 

constant pain a reminder of the knife, of the trust. He’d get bandaged up later. 

Clean up and bandage, and remember. It was all about remembering. It made 

perfect sense. 

Dan couldn’t speak, could only search for the lube on the bedside table. 

Blood made a goddamned useless lubricant, despite running down Vadim’s thighs, 

coating his arse. They had spilled enough of it throughout their lives to know it 

would do nothing but turn sticky. 

Vadim knelt on the bed, sat back on his heels, felt the mess trickle down his 

leg, and glanced at the cuts. Clean. Not gaping, but not shallow, either. Idly 

touched his cock, watching Dan’s stretched out body, and grinned to himself. 

Understanding, a connection so deep nobody could sever it. Not a year or two. 

He’d find a way, he’d made it this far. He’d find this man. 

The lube was no sooner in Dan’s hand before he worked it into Vadim. 

Rough, no time for niceties, he was going to fuck that man as if he were invincible. 

Fingers coated with blood, lube, spit and precum, he knelt behind the arse that he’d 

possessed many times and would never get enough of. “You should see yourself.” 

Yes, pride of the Soviet Union, special forces, officer of the Soviet Army. 

Vadim bit back a laugh. Fuck all that. He’d never been more himself than feeling 

the blood seep into the mattress. Love and war. All the same. At least, this was his 

cause. 

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Dan murmured hoarsely, “You should know what it does to me.” Vadim’s 

hips in a vice grip, leaving fingerprints of blood. His cock poised right there, at the 

ring of muscle, yet nothing tense or resisting about he body beneath his hands. 

Vadim closed his eyes. No mockery, Dan didn’t mock him. Dan meant it, 

every word and every touch. He curved his back, pushed out his ass, towards the 

heat he craved. 

Dan pressed forward, bit back a cry when he breached through and buried 

himself inside. Deep, deeper, until he could go no further, with Vadim shuddering 

and groaning at the feeling, the burn, yes, but even worse, the lust. Vadim’s mind 

blanked when he heard Dan speak. “I feel you.” Dan groaned out, pulled back, 

barely inside. “I fucking feel you!” Rammed forward, with all his strength, all of 

his pain and brutality. With all that goddamned motherfucking love and lust that 

was killing him now. 

Vadim felt every muscle tense, his guts knot up with pain and need, lust, 

the pleasure to be hurt and used and needed, of finally getting what he’d wanted all 

day. Like coming up for air before a long dive in dark water. He would have to get 

all he could to make it. Intense enough to die for it, if he had to. “Do you feel me?” 

“Right to my heart,” murmured Vadim, and gave another groan, willingly, 

wanted Dan to know just how right it was, how good it felt, and grinned with 

tender irony at his own thought. Dan knew. Dan could read it in everything. 

Clenching around him, glancing over his shoulder, grinning. A challenge, of sorts, 

even if it hurt, it was supposed to hurt to spike the pleasure he felt. Pushed back 

against Dan, inviting him for more, could feel him deep inside, that impossible, 

smooth heat. “Nobody else. Feels…like this,” he murmured, breathless. “Nobody 

else can…match me. You have me. Always have. Just you.” 

“Nobody.” Dan murmured, breathless. Pulled out, slowing, posed. “No. 

Never.” Then lost all words, let his body lose, and fucked Vadim. Fucked him as 

mercilessly and as brutally as he had wanted. Fucked death and fear and loss out of 

both of them. Fucked so hard, his cock was sore and his muscles aching. 

Concentrated on the pain in his body, the bite of the wound, and the slickness of 

blood, to hold himself back. Fucked so long, until he thought there was no more 

oxygen left in the room and his lungs were burning, letting out sounds akin to a 

tortured animal. 

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Lust bled into pain, pain into lust, all of Vadim’s strength used up just 

withstanding the fierce onslaught, sore, yes, hurting, drenched in sweat, taking 

every bit of pain and converting it into lust. Shuddering with  exhaustion, Vadim 

couldn’t think, washed away in the sensation, allowing all of this to happen, his 

own fierceness demanding everything Dan could give, until it was close to 

suffering. 

“Mine, mine, mine!” Dan still hadn’t touched Vadim’s cock, and the strain 

was becoming unbearable. “You’re mine. Come for me. Come. For. Me!” 

“No,” Vadim protested, couldn’t come, not without help, didn’t have the 

balance, and wanted something else. “I…want to…feel you…” Clenching against 

him, gritting his teeth against the pain as he slammed back against Dan. “Fucking 

do it!” He’d have Dan, alright, but on the same terms.  

Vadim’s answer caused a final lurch, and Dan let go, the knowledge of 

getting paid back, matched stride for stride, with every bit of pain and strength, 

crashed him over the edge and he was cursing in English and Russian when he 

came. Deep inside of Vadim’s body, shuddering, thrusting erratically, until he 

wanted to break down, his whole body trembling with the exertion. 

Vadim groaned, determined to remember that – how Dan sounded, what it 

felt like – and shifted his weight, reaching for Dan’s flank as he moved, pulling 

away, legs shaky, whole body unsteady, needed to come, and wanted to crash. Saw 

Dan collapse, spreading his legs, stretched out on the bed, as he usually was. 

Vadim reached for the lube, rubbed it between his hands, cool against the 

sweaty hot skin, and moved over to straddle Dan’s thighs, rubbed the lube into the 

spread ass. It would hurt, very likely, even though he’d never last as long as Dan 

had, which was probably a small mercy. 

Dan breathed into the blood stained sheets, heart still beating wildly, breath 

still struggling after the exertion, but his hips lifted towards Vadim, and his legs 

opened wider. He’d hurt like fuck, he’d just come, but he didn’t care. Wanted 

Vadim to take him, fuck him, like he’d done it before. It had to be equal. Pain for 

pain, blood for blood, and their cum deep inside the other’s body. 

Vadim saw the hands left and right of Dan’s body, and remembered 

something. A dark place in his heart, a memory that never failed. He took Dan’s 

wrists, who simply allowed it, and stretched to get at the scarf, crossed the wrists 

behind the back, and tied them, without any protest. 

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Dan knew and understood, and he accepted. Nine years, and a memory that 

had changed him, altered the fundamental elements of himself, rearranged every 

molecule of his being. Things he could -, or no longer could do, and things he 

could not forget. And that was why he merely flexed his muscles, closed his eyes, 

felt his body begin to struggle, enough to make it worth Vadim’s while, and his 

own. While breathing in the scent of blood, sweat and cum. 

Vadim pushed Dan’s ass cheeks apart, leaning in to enter him, lowered his 

weight at the same time as he thrust forward, hissing, too close, too fucking close 

to perfect, and paused, working hard to compose himself. Keep control, to an 

extent, only to make it last, not to take care of Dan. Pushing against a body that had 

a mind of its own, that never just accepted this, always tightened, always struggled 

until it finally broke in the best feeling of the world. 

Covering Dan as he was inside, felt Dan’s hands dig into his stomach, 

sliding a little deeper, knew it had to hurt like a bitch when he heard Dan’s scream, 

muffled by teeth dug into the sheets. Summoned what strength he had left, to move, 

fierce, deep thrusts, powerful, no accommodation there, no finding of a rhythm, 

just breaching and using the helpless body, like he had done back then. He shook 

his head, brought his lips up to Dan’s ear, breathing into it as he struggled for 

words. “You’re perfect, Dan. I can feel your pain.” 

Dan didn’t answer, mouth filled with bloodied fabric, but his eyes were 

wide open. Nostrils flaring with his frantic breathing, and fuck, it hurt, hurt just 

like the memory, but this time for different reasons. It was what he needed, the 

fighting, the violent thrashing against the overpowering weight and strength. And 

most of all the illusion that he was helpless. Perfect. Fucking perfect, even those 

tears of pain, creating damp patches on the soiled bed.  

Everything, simply perfect. 

They had come back full circle. 

Vadim simply couldn’t last that long, used the struggle and pain, used Dan 

in a way that would have been impossible otherwise, he wouldn’t have allowed this. 

Dan would never have accepted this, a strange farewell present of sorts, another 

vow written on the other’s body. Vadim bit into Dan’s shoulder, hard, and sped up, 

much like a quick, frantic rape in the barracks, the same kind of breathing, the 

same speed and darkness, but with layers upon layers of meaning. Not just a body. 

He could feel Dan break underneath, like glass under a boot heel, splinter, accept 

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against every instinct in his body, and fucked harder, and finally came, wincing 

with his own exhaustion and soreness, while Dan’s body was shaking underneath 

him. 

Vadim pulled out, and rolled to the side, facing Dan, reached for his head, 

and pulled him close, still tied up, kissed his sweaty forehead, ran his hands 

through the mane of wet hair, licked sweat off his temple. Reluctant to untie him. 

“Oh fuck.” Dan murmured, eyes closed now. Just lay, hurting, the pain was 

travelling through the core of his body, and yet it was right. Like it was meant to be. 

He didn’t move, not even a twitch of a muscle, more passive than he had ever been 

in all those nine years; in all of his life. This was it, the last night, no more hours, 

no ‘next time’, and he simply let himself be touched and kissed, his body relaxing 

completely and his mind accepting. Everything. 

Suddenly understanding the nature of submission. 

Vadim just couldn’t stop touching him, idly stroked his shoulder and back 

as he shifted to lie as close to Dan as possible without actually embracing him – he 

lacked the strength to do that. They were both a mess now. For once in a nice place, 

and they ruined the covers. He chuckled low. “Should...get cleaned up. I guess.” 

Thought about it, slowly, mind hardly responding to any efforts he made. 

“Bandages. I think. Ah, fuck.” 

“Hm?” Dan dragged his eyes open, blinking at Vadim. Bandages? Oh, yes, 

the pain. The blood. “Aye.” Bandages...where the fuck...Dan’s mind didn’t want to 

do his bidding, lost in a state where every muscle, from the inside out, was 

completely relaxed. “Don’t want to move. No bandages. Not bothered.” 

His eyes fell shut again, ignoring the blood that was seeping out of the cut 

on his arm, dropping onto the sheets and adding to the mess. It would stop bleeding, 

soon enough. “Hold me.” 

Vadim gave a tired grin, shifted his cut leg – anything touching that hurt 

like a motherfucker – and turned to lie on his side, one arm under Dan’s head, hand 

between his shoulder blades, the other in the small of his back, too exhausted to 

press, push, or pull, touching his forehead to Dan’s, and breathing in his breath. 

“Where...will you go? How can I find you, Dan?” 

“The Baroness,” Dan murmured. Felt sleep dragging him under, caused by 

total exhaustion. “You can always find me through the Embassy.” He began to 

mumble, could hardly string the few words coherently together. He knew he had 

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no chance to find Vadim, and could do nothing but hope to be found. “Maggie…” 

Trailed off. Despite the pain and the discomfort of his position, still bound, he had 

fallen asleep. 

Vadim smiled, dog tired himself, but there was the itch and pain from the 

cut, and his body seemed to think he should better be awake because he was 

wounded. He sighed, content and relaxed, but still awake, having Dan close like 

this – another memory he’d keep for the time that came after. They’d gone through 

months and months of being alone, but maybe it got harder the older they got. 

More aware of time. He wouldn’t waste any. There had to be a way to get to 

Europe, the way that continent became restless promised plenty of disorientation, 

and that meant he could slip through the cracks that would open. All a question of 

timing, like storming a house. 

He fell into a shallow rest, not quite sleep, still awareness, the constant burn