Page 25 of Enemy of My Enemy
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Chapter 6
Moscow
Mono Bar,Moscow’s premier gay bar on Pokrovskiy Boulevard, was packed. Mono Bar was one gay bar that had opened under Putin and endured throughout the years. And for months, since President Puchkov’s public political friendship with President Spiers had unfolded and President Puchkov had rescinded the worst of the laws against gay Russians, they all were enjoying a tiny modicum of freedom.
Senior Lieutenant Sasha Andreyev, of the Russian Army Air Force, slid his hands down the bare chest of the stranger he was grinding behind. The stranger’s ass was pert, his body slender, angular, and Sasha had been grinding against him for several songs. His hands roamed up and down the man’s front, stroking skin, pinching nipples, and rubbing his hardening cock through his thin, skintight pants.
His dance partner leaned back, resting his head on Sasha’s shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”
Growling, Sasha’s hands gripped tight on his partner’s hips. He leaned in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. His partner bit down on his bottom lip.
“My car is on the street.”
“Take me there. Now.”
On the way out of the bar, Sasha shoved him up against the wall and sucked on his nipples. His partner leaped into his arms, wrapping his legs around Sasha’s waist. Sasha ground against him until a bouncer forcefully separated their sloppy kiss. Laughing, Sasha’s partner finally dragged him out the front door and then waited, shirtless, in the cold night, his chest heaving. Moscow’s snow had melted from the sidewalk, but drifts clung to the rooftops above and coated the park across the street.
Sasha dragged him close and wrapped his arms around him. Sasha was larger, more muscular, and his arms swallowed his partner. “This way,” he said, sucking on his ear.
A block down, Sasha unlocked the passenger door of his rickety GAZ and slid in, pulling his dance partner with him and onto his lap. Kissing turned to unzipping their flies, messy handjobs, and in minutes, the windows were completely fogged. Sasha peeled his partner’s pants down and sucked him deep, moaning while he fingered his partner’s asshole open. He fumbled blindly in the glove compartment, searching for the lotion and condoms he’d thrown in there earlier.
The lotion was cold, and his partner hissed as Sasha worked it into his ass. A kiss to his cock was his apology, and then Sasha rolled the condom over his own cock and guided his partner down.
In minutes, they were rocking his beater car hard on the streets of Moscow as Sasha grabbed his partner’s hips and thrust, driving in and out as deep and hard as he could. His partner moaned, eyes rolling back in his head, and he grasped Sasha’s shoulders.
Too soon, he felt the curl in his abdomen, the warmth beginning to spread as his balls tightened. He reached for his partner’s hard cock, jerking him fast and rough.
His partner came first, trembling and curling over Sasha with a shout, and his come dribbled all over Sasha’s hand and down to his lap. Gripping his hips again, Sasha cursed and drove into him, once, twice, and then released, emptying his load into the condom.
Grinning, his partner nuzzled his face for a moment and whispered in his ear, “Thanks.” He slid off Sasha’s cock and shimmied back into his pants. “I’m going back. You?”
Sasha panted as his cock softened and the come cooled on his bare lap. “Maybe.” He shrugged. Or maybe not. He had a long drive back to the base in Andreapol. Maybe he’d just smoke a cigarette, grab a coffee, and head back.
“See you around.” With a wink, his partner pushed open the fogged-up car door and slid off his lap, stepping back into the snow-strewn Moscow street. Sweat glistened down his skin, and goose bumps erupted in the freezing air. He shivered, grinned back at Sasha, and shut the car door behind him.
Sasha heard the crunch of the man’s shoes on the wet pavement and watched him head back to the club. He sighed as he slipped the condom off and shoved it in an old paper coffee cup on his dash. He tried to wipe away the come as best he could with some napkins he’d swiped from the coffee shop before he slid his pants back up.
If he grabbed some coffee, ate, and then hit the road, he could be back at the base by five in the morning, before his preflight. Before he went up in his MiG and touched the sky.
Rubbing his hands over his face, Sasha slid across to his driver’s seat and grabbed his keys from where he’d thrown them on the dash. The high of his orgasm was fading, replaced by the ever-present pool of dark shame buried in his gut. Why he needed this, he didn’t know. Why had the universe made him this way?
Over thirty years of questioning, but he’d never found an answer. He just learned to deal with it, slaking his lust when he needed and then burying his desires as deep as he could.
Sighing, Sasha turned the key in his ignition. The engine sputtered, once, twice, and then turned over.
He’d gotten the need out of his system for now. Time to head home.
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Senator Stephen Allen Rips into President and First Gentleman Following Exposé
Republican Senator Stephen Allen tore into President Spiers following a scathing exposé of Ethan Reichenbach’s personal life prior to becoming the first gentleman. “This is outrageous,” Allen said, speaking to commentators and reporters throughout the day. “Just who is this man, this Ethan Reichenbach? What kind of person is now living in the White House? What sort of influence does he carry over the president? The American people should be extremely concerned about this relationship and the supposed values it represents. Look at what’s happened in just a few days. Our international standing has plummeted.” Allen went on to say, later, that the president and his partner were “not the kind of men the American people want to have leading them.”
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Chapter 7
