Fist to the Heart Ch. 05

After being taken from behind and made to come two more times, and had an ass filled again to prove how much Johnny enjoyed their little get together, he was in the mood to learn a little more about the man presently sharing his bed.

Johnny was lying on his belly, trying hard to regain his breath, so Ruslan grabbed the opportunity. He moved one hand leisurely over his back, tracing the scars with the tips of his fingers. What could have caused such disfiguration of skin? The jagged lines could come from a whip, an instrument used clearly for torture and not bedroom play. But there was something even more there, something that was making Ruslan's skin crawl with the implication of what it might mean. The skin had been broken irregularly in places and had overgrown in rough edges, thickened, to compensate. A simple whip could not have left those, by his limited knowledge of scar anatomy.

Johnny didn't flinch as Ruslan touched him, but his breath became hitched, cautious.

"What happened here?"

A non-committal shrug was the only answer.

"Many would use tattoos to cover such marks," Ruslan pressed, despite a small internal voice telling him that wasn't a good idea.

"I wouldn't," Johnny's answer came, but it didn't look like he was mad or embarrassed with Ruslan's interest in his old scars.

"Why?"

"Why?" Johnny echoed. "It wouldn't do anyone any good. It won't do me any good. I'd know they're there, tattoos or not."

"Do they still hurt?" Ruslan's voice grew low.

He was just asking stupid questions right now.

"No. But they're there for a reason."

"What reason?"

"Old mistakes," Johnny said, and for a brief second, his voice was bitter. "One must live with them. I do."

Ruslan felt briefly ashamed and pulled away his hand. It wasn't his business. They weren't at the point of recounting their lives' history. Maybe they weren't going there at all.

So there was no point in talking about himself, either. What could it lead to? Emotional release? He wasn't in the mood for that. Hell, he was never in the mood for that. And he could take all the release he wanted from men like Johnny, in bed, on his back, or on his fours. It didn't matter.

Johnny pushed himself to one side and stared at Ruslan.

"Do they gross you out?" Johnny made a vague gesture over his shoulder.

Ruslan felt tempted to recoil from the accusation. But he had been the one to start the conversation. And Johnny's question was fair. He shook his head slowly. "No. You lived through such a thing -"

"If I want anyone's pity, I believe there're plenty of churches around," Johnny brusquely interrupted him.

"Pity?" Ruslan snorted.

It was his turn to feel a little annoyed. Maybe Johnny thought he didn't need it. Yanis was like this, too. But Ruslan had taken the old man's pity and fed himself with it. It had helped him survived, not physically, but deep inside, and tough guys like Snake and his longtime friend couldn't understand that.

"I have none to give, don't worry," he added and made a move to get out of the bed.

Johnny stopped him. "Where do you think you're going? I think I told you about some record that needs breaking."

Ruslan smiled as he turned toward him. Yes, it was nothing but a game, and there was no room for memories and talks of old scars and mistakes in the kind of game they were playing.

TBC