High Lonesome

by Tanya Chris

  Great. Now Tanner had dragged Joe into their shared mess. There was no way he was going to be able to make this go away cleanly.

  “FSB,” he corrected. “The KGB was disbanded when the USSR fell.”

  “You think the initials are what’s important?” Tanner shot back.

  “Tell him why you think I’m a Russian agent,” he suggested. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Tell him, Tasha.”

  “Because you’re the reason I’m here. I came here to meet you, and you came to meet me.”

  “Why?” he prompted. “Why did you come to meet me?”

  “I was going to sell you something, but now I don’t want to. And I don’t want to be here, either.” Tanner turned to Joe with a pleading look. “I want to go home and forget any of this happened.”

  Joe dropped his hand from Tanner and straightened. He looked at Tanner, then at Pyotr. “So, let me get this straight. You’re a traitor, and you’re a Russian spy.”

  “Almost right,” Pyotr said, “but not quite. He’s a wannabe traitor who’s chickening out, and I’m a CIA agent sent here to intercept him.”

  “Not KGB? Or—” Joe waved his hand. “Whoever you said. You’re not that?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re Russian.”

  “I am. Or was. I’m a double agent. The FSB think I’m here spying on the United States, but I turned.” He should definitely not have said any of that but the alcohol was having a softening effect, as was his growing personal interest in the two men at the table with him. He didn’t want to lie to Joe and he didn’t want Tanner scared of him.

  When was the last time he’d been able to tell the truth about himself? Was it ever? There was a very small support team who knew who he was, who knew he worked for their side, but to everyone else he’d interacted with since emigrating to the U.S. ten years ago, he’d been telling lies.

  Even before that, when he’d been a teenager in Russia, he’d had to hide who he was thanks to his sexuality—not that he’d done a good job hiding that or he wouldn’t be here now—but to be his real authentic self with someone? That hadn’t happened since he was a kid, since before he’d understood he was gay, since before he’d paid the price for being gay and come to live in the United States.

  “I’m not going to give those plans to the Russians,” he told Tanner. “And I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Are you going to arrest him?”

  “I’m going to try not to.” That was as much as he could offer. “But, yes, that was the general idea. If Tanner had sold me those plans, there’d have been a team waiting for him when he hiked out of here.”

  Tanner made a choked sound that had both Joe and Pyotr turning to him. Joe pushed Tanner’s shot glass closer to him. “Drink,” he said. “We’ll figure this out.”

  Pyotr watched as Tanner raised the glass shakily to his lips. “All right. Now your turn. You two have your own secret.”

  “What makes you think so?” Joe asked.

  “A lot of things. Right now it’s the fact that you’re surprised I’m here to buy plans but not so surprised he’s here to sell them. Did you know what he’d brought with him?”

  “I just met him, and unlike whatever you two have been up to, I haven’t searched anyone’s luggage.”

  Pyotr didn’t say anything. Joe was hedging and they both knew it. Finally, Joe shrugged.

  “Not my secret. Maybe I’m wrong.”

  “You’re not wrong.” Tanner put down the shot glass he’d been holding with both hands the way a child holds a sippy cup and faced Pyotr. “I’m an addict.”

  “What kind of addict?”

  When Tanner didn’t answer, Pyotr turned to Joe.

  “Heroin.”

  “Shit, Tanner.” Pyotr shook his head. He’d known there was something off with the kid, but shit. Heroin? “How the fuck do you let that happen?”

  Tanner winced. “It’s easier than you think.”

  “But heroin, Tasha? That’s something you don’t mess with, not even once. It’s highly addictive.”

  “Yeah, I think I got that, thanks.”

  Pyotr pulled himself in, realizing he was being a naïve idiot based on the way Joe was smirking at him. It was like when he’d shown up the night before, wet and exhausted and with no idea how huts worked. His lack of knowledge was losing him authority. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but this little triad was his pack now, his team, and he needed to keep his alpha persona intact. Tanner would need him, and if he didn’t have Joe’s trust, he wouldn’t have Tanner’s either.

  He sat up straighter and pushed his shot glass away. Enough liquor. “Is that why you needed the money?”

  Tanner nodded. “I’m in deep with a dealer. Two of them, actually. I don’t owe my backup dealer as much, but I owe him more than he’s willing to carry. If I don’t come back with that cash, they’ll both cut me off.”

  “Let them cut you off. Maybe that’s what you need.”

  “Not that easy,” Joe said. “You think he wants to live like this? When you can’t afford good stuff from reputable dealers you end up with shit stuff from guys who don’t care if what they’re selling will kill you.” He pushed Tanner’s hair away from his face again. “You’re all in, baby. Let’s get you upstairs. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. “Will the trails be open tomorrow?”

  Green Tea was out there waiting, and he didn’t want these two caught in the crossfire.

  Joe looked back over his shoulder as he led Tanner out of the room. “Another day, at least. Gotta let the snow settle.”

  He trailed after them, following Joe up the stairs, providing backup in case Tanner stumbled. The only light came from the moon spilling through the large window in the foyer, but Joe’s footsteps were steady despite the darkness and the extra weight of Tanner slumped against him.

  “How about helicopters? Like how I came in.”

  “Heard you. Didn’t know what was going on or why, but I heard the copter. You landed where we stopped this afternoon, right?”

  “Think so. It was dark and I had no idea where I was, but yeah, that felt like the right place.”

  Joe boosted Tanner up onto the top bunk where he’d been sleeping, then started stripping off his outer layer of clothing. “Can’t think of anywhere else they could drop a helicopter,” he said, “and if one lands there, we’ll hear it.”

  Pyotr frowned to himself. He still didn’t like it, but it would have to do for now. Tomorrow, when they had Tanner sober again, they were all going to have to talk. He’d like to get his hands on those plans—verify they really existed and secure them before anyone else showed up to muddy the waters.

  Joe pressed a kiss to Tanner’s forehead and drew the covers up over him. Pyotr stepped over and gave Tanner a kiss on the lips. He and Joe exchanged a look, not able to make out much more than the general slope of each other’s features in the nearly complete dark but somehow understanding each other even so.

  “Another shot?” Joe asked.

  He left his hand where it rested on the top of Tanner’s head and turned to face Joe directly. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Joe’s, repeating the gesture he’d made to Tanner.

  “Let’s talk.” He gestured for Joe to precede him.

  As they reached the door to the dormitory, a flutter of movement from the bed caught their attention—Tanner groping for something under his pillow.

  The plans, he thought, mentally smacking himself in the forehead. Of course Tanner would’ve kept them close to himself. Not in his pack, but right there in his bunk. Tomorrow, when he could grab a minute alone in the dorm, he’d retrieve them. Then he’d figure out what to do about the rest of it.

  Chapter 8

  Joe

  When Joe caught Tanner’s movement, he knew what Tanner was reaching for—his kit. He stepped back over to the bunk and tugged his hand out from under his pillow.

  “Go to sleep,” he ordered, keeping his voice gentl
e. “You’re drunk, you’re fine. Just sleep tonight.” He stayed there, keeping hold of Tanner’s wrist, giving him something to feel, until his breathing deepened.

  With any luck, he’d sleep through the night, stretch out his stash one more dose towards when they could get him out of there. Tanner had a lot of shit in front of him and he didn’t want to see him forced into detox while he dealt with it.

  “You got him drunk on purpose,” Pyotr said.

  “Just wanted him to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Trying to get me drunk, too?”

  “Do I need to?” He hadn’t forgotten that quick touch of Pyotr’s lips to his. Things were so complicated already. He and Tanner had fucked around. Pyotr and Tanner had fucked around. Seemed like he’d missed his chance to fuck around with Pyotr, but he still wanted it.

  “If I were drunk, I couldn’t give you what you need.” Pyotr’s tone said everything he couldn’t see. “You’ve been taking care of us all day, but it’s time someone took care of you.”

  He shivered. He had a feeling Pyotr knew exactly how to take care of him.

  “My bedroom’s downstairs.”

  Pyotr looked at the bunk bed where Tanner lay motionless, breathing audibly and steadily. “Yeah, let’s go downstairs.”

  Joe headed down the stairs, wondering what the alternative had been. Would Pyotr have fucked him right there with Tanner in the next bunk over? And why did the thought turn him on? Not the bunk part of it. He was sure his clients found ways to screw around in those bunks—he’d cleaned up enough evidence of it—but he was just as happy not to try it himself. His own bed wasn’t spacious, but at least it didn’t have a ceiling or a drop-off.

  Still, he agreed with that sympathetic look Pyotr had cast towards Tanner. He didn’t want to leave Tanner behind, even as he walked with increasing urgency towards his bedroom where he did want to be. With Pyotr. It was confusing as hell.

  He picked up the lantern they’d left glowing amongst the bottles and shot glasses and carried it into his bedroom. Pyotr followed him in, surveying the small space quickly in the flickering light. Joe put the lantern down on his dresser and got out his condoms and lube and tossed them onto the mattress, then went to the door to shut it. At the last minute, he changed his mind. For the heat, he told himself. Or in case Tanner woke up and came looking for them.

  Pyotr picked up the strip of condoms he’d thrown down and fingered them. “This what you want?”

  He nodded.

  “You know how it’ll go, right?”

  He nodded again. Pyotr gave out an unmistakable toppy vibe. Though his actions and words with Tanner had been gentle, he hoped Pyotr would give him something other than gentle.

  “Yeah.” The word came out sticky and small. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, sometimes I like to bottom.”

  “I get it. I’ve got you.” Pyotr laid himself out on the bed, brushing the condoms and lube onto the floor and stretching his stockinged feet out. “Why don’t you show me what I’m working with here.” He put his hands behind his head and grinned, his teeth flashing white in the blue-tinted lamplight.

  Outside, the moon caught the first flakes as they started to fall again. A sudden gust of wind made the glass rattle, tossing sharp-edged grains of sleet against it. Inside, shadows danced as he undressed.

  He toed off the Crocs he wore around the hut, then bent to remove the furry socks beneath them. He was wearing the jeans he’d changed into when they’d gotten back from their hike and a pair of long underwear beneath them, the hut being chilly anywhere other than directly in front of the stove. On top he had on a long-sleeved base layer and a bulky fleece. The number of layers he had to remove made it feel like stripping, like he was being intentionally provocative for an audience.

  “Nice,” Pyotr said, when all his clothes were gone and there was only him, naked in the lamplight. “Show me the other side.”

  He rotated self-consciously, though he knew he had a fine ass. All that trekking had toned the muscle he’d put on since getting clean into a plump but firm double-handful of flesh. His back wouldn’t look like Pyotr’s. He could tell, even through layers of clothes, that Pyotr’s upper body would put his to shame.

  “I wish we had more light,” Pyotr said as he rotated forward again.

  “You know where to find me tomorrow,” he offered.

  “Yeah?”

  He wasn’t sure why Pyotr’s seeming reluctance to commit to a second shot bothered him. He never went back for seconds either, and if Pyotr were the loyal type he’d be up with Tanner in the dormitory right now.

  “Do I get to see you?” he asked, shaking off the thought.

  “Come take what you need.” Pyotr waved a hand down his body in invitation.

  He walked over to him, his hard cock bobbing in front of him. It shouldn’t be hard yet, not having received any stimulation other than the promise of getting fucked, but it didn’t know that. It was hard and Pyotr’s was too, if that rod diagonaling from groin to hip in Pyotr’s pants was any indication.

  He crawled over Pyotr and reached for his shirt. Best to get that off before he got distracted by the main attraction. Pyotr did a crunch to help as Joe wrestled it over his head. His nipples pebbled in the cold air—hard, brown buds on a slope of white chest. Joe fastened his mouth around one as his hand stroked over the curve of Pyotr’s pecs. He was stacked enough that the muscle made a mound like a woman’s breast without the springy give.

  Pyotr’s hand tangled in his hair, guiding him lower. His tongue traced as it went, running over every stretch of flesh it could reach as Pyotr sent him where he wanted him. He pulled at the stretchy waistband when he came to it, lowering it slowly so his tongue could follow hip bones, dip into the muscled vee that led like an arrow to his target, taste the musk of a man who hadn’t showered today.

  Pyotr’s cock snapped to his stomach when Joe pulled the fabric of his track pants over it. It was long and hard and topped by a drop of fluid that he snagged before taking the time to ease Pyotr’s pants down and away. He wanted them both like this—naked, hard, skin rubbing against skin as he moved back up Pyotr’s body to the wonderland that awaited him.

  He licked up Pyotr’s shaft with the realization that he was licking through the dried traces of Tanner’s saliva. It shouldn’t make him hot but it did, like Tanner was there in the room with them, his saliva still as fresh as if Joe had taken it directly from his mouth. He pursed his lips, kissing and suckling up the side of Pyotr’s shaft, imagining Tanner on the other side, their hands locked together cradling Pyotr’s balls.

  He glanced up before swallowing Pyotr’s cock. Pyotr sprawled with an unmistakable aura of satisfaction, as though he deserved the dueling tongues that Joe imagined servicing him.

  “Suck it,” he said when their eyes met. He put his hands in Joe’s hair and twisted as he pushed, sending the tip of his cock down his throat.

  God, yeah. This. He swallowed deeply, letting the sense of being filled with cock work through him. He was the epitome of the strong, silent type, but when someone played him right, he couldn’t stay silent at all. He loved the sound of his own moans filtered through a mouthful of cock.

  “Yeah,” Pyotr sighed. “I knew from the first moment I saw you that you’d be a good cocksucker.”

  He moaned again. So few saw that in him. Not that he didn’t suck plenty of cock. He just didn’t usually get called a cocksucker while he did it, and his secret vice was that he liked it a little rough and a little humiliating, just like this.

  He was as wrapped up in Pyotr’s cock as Tanner had been, though Pyotr had handled Tanner much differently. He seemed to know what each of his lovers needed and to be willing to give it, if lying back and having your cock sucked could be considered giving at all. But it was working for him, and Tanner had been so entranced earlier he hadn’t even noticed Joe standing there watching him.

  “Slow down, hot shot,” Pyotr said. “Or you’re not going to get what you
want.”

  He popped Pyotr’s cock out of his mouth and took a last long lick up the side of it. “Said I’d do it, not that I wanted it.”

  “Oh, please. You’re dying for it. Hand me that lube and get your ass in my face so I can get you ready.”

  He smiled at the floor as he swiped the lube off it. Yeah, he wanted to get fucked, and Pyotr knew it. The shot of tequila he’d had earlier had him loose and loopy. It’d been a long time since he’d been anything other than straight-up straight and though he wasn’t quite drunk, he was buzzing. He probably ought to be thinking harder about what he’d learned earlier, but he was leaving those ruminations for another day. CIA, KGB, FSB—whatever alphabet soup Pyotr swam in, he was hot and hung and right there.

  He threw a leg over Pyotr’s body, putting his ass in his face, knowing Pyotr was looking at his most intimate anatomy. Pyotr’s eyes, which he couldn’t see, were followed by his fingers, which he could feel. The fingers were cold and impersonal, not gentle or slow as they worked him open with rough efficiency.

  “Good enough,” Pyotr said. He slapped Joe’s flank and scooted out from under him, steadying Joe as he got himself in place behind him. He fished a condom off the floor and put it on. Joe looked over at the open doorway and imagined Tanner standing there watching as Pyotr pressed slowly and relentlessly into him.

  “Fuck.” He let his torso drop to the bed, done in by the hot stretch of his body welcoming Pyotr’s.

  “OK?”

  “Good.”

  Better as Pyotr started to move and his body loosened, accepting the thrusts that pushed him harder into the mattress.

  “Yeah, good,” Pyotr said, sounding very in control of himself despite the speed with which he was moving.

  Pyotr’s cock was so hard, so solid, no give to it at all. It drilled him the way he needed to be drilled, spearing him open. The sound of squelching lube overlaid his choked moans and incoherent mumblings. He heard himself asking Pyotr for something, but he didn’t know what until Pyotr started smashing into him with increasing force, his fingers wrapped around his hipbones and the bony points of his pelvis making sharp contact with his ass. The head of Pyotr’s cock nudged resolutely against his prostate with each thrust.