The Wolves of Winter

I was at an old KBG station just outside of Warsaw a week later, sifting through old paperwork in one of the offices, and I barely even heard him creep up behind me. I did, however, hear his footsteps when he got a couple of steps away from me, and I tensed up, but when I saw the glint of his metal arm out of the corner of my eye, I relaxed.

"I'm working." I told him sharply. That didn't stop him from grabbing me by the hips as roughly as possible and pushing me back against the desk with the same grin he'd worn in my motel room.

"You smell good."

"Get off." I held up the paperwork dated February 11th 1987 to look at it more closely. I didn't get far through the text when it was ripped out of my hands and tossed on the floor. "I'm busy."

"Ten minutes and I'll be gone. Hell, if you get me worked up enough it might even be five."

It was so tempting to just grab the front of his combat suit and wrap my legs around his hips and let him fuck me on the desk like we both knew I really wanted, but I had a job to focus on. I bit my lip and reached for the next file, but he batted my hand away. "I followed you here."

"And you think that earns you something?" I said wearily, raising my eyebrow. "Just come back to the motel in a couple of hours."

"I can't."

"And why's that?"

"I'm leaving Poland in an hour. Wanted to say goodbye."

I was surprised. "You've never done that before."

"Four months ago I'd never fucked you before. Two weeks ago I'd never stayed more than fifteen minutes. There's a first for everything. Now, are we going to have sex or not?"

"Why so eager? I'm in Russia when I'm done here, we can probably hook up there."

"I've been called back to Hydra's base. I don't know how long it'll be before I'm out again." He admitted, for a brief moment looking... Disappointed?

I glanced back to the desk, which was crammed with paperwork that I was yet to read. "Not on the desk."

He nodded, reaching for the bottom of my shirt to lift it up. This surprised me too - usually he'd just slide my pants down far enough and pull down his zipper and we'd be off. This time, though, it was like he was savouring every moment. He moved with agonizing slowness, his fingers trailing down my sides to reach for my pants, and when he finally got me out of them, he began undressing. I felt almost obligated to help, so we were stood together, slowly stripping off his black combat suit.

He kissed me softly, far softer than anything I'd ever experienced, before dragging me down to the floor with him and pinning me beneath him, before dropping another slow kiss to my lips.

Everything about this time was different - no less exiting - but different. Instead of being quick and brutal and over in five minutes it was slower and almost more gentle. His head was buried in the crook of my neck and the fingers of his right hand were tangled into my hair while he murmured in my ear, sometimes in English, sometimes in Russian, and occasionally in fragmented German. My legs were hooked over his hips and my forehead was pressed into his shoulder while I tried to even remember how to speak English.

Then it was over, and the two of us lay there together, both trying to catch our breath, both whispering muffled words in both English and Russian while we buried our faces in each other's skin. I could feel his lips burning against my collarbone, but I knew mine must have been just as hot against his neck so I couldn't complain. Not that I would have anyway - it had all felt so good. So much better than all the times before.

I could tell he thought so too, because when he pulled back from me, when he'd finally come down enough to talk and be coherent, he managed a smile and another kiss. "You taste good too."

"I bet I smell like sex now."

He didn't respond, instead standing and grabbing his clothes. I did the same, reaching for the pieces of my own combat suit that he'd tossed to corners of the room. When we were dressed, he looked at me, almost sadly.

"До следующего раза." He said, tugging on his jacket and leaving. A small smile crept across my lips - it was exactly what he'd said after the first time.

"Until next time." I murmured to his retreating back.

Notes