Title: The Scented Gardens of the Blind. (2)
Author: Bernie
Pairing: Pavel Bure / Valeri Bure
Rating: NC-17 (the whole thing)
Dedication. Chrissy. (Besides which, this probably freaks
everyone else out.)
Disclaimer. This is all made up. Burecest, underage, abuse.
Please donÕt read this if that may squick you out. part one
Florida. Adulthood.
There is a beautiful view here. This is an expensive condo
in an exclusive part of town. Out on the veranda the smell of the gardeniaÕs
and the sweet peas can be overpowering. So many things are. But not this.
Nothing is simpler than the communion of lovers. The murmur of skin on skin.
The soft sighs coming from identical mouths, from an identical source of
pleasure and of need. They do need each other. Need the acceptance of their
passion that can only be whispered about.
Russia. Teenagers.
Pavel is the most beautiful young man. It is a stereotypical
beauty, blond hair, smooth skin, blue eyes, and full lips. You would not
recognise this family, what they were before, the group that seemed always
poised to skid into sudden violence.
Another stereotype; sport has saved them. The skills the
father of the boys, (young men now), had learned as a swimmer carried over to
frozen water. Who could have imagined that? And Pavel has so much natural
talent, and they both have athletic ability, the future unfolds before them.
The party, in accordance with how well Pavel has been
playing, has upgraded their apartment. But it is a young girls room the young
men have been placed in, with its prints of primroses and petuniaÕs on the
walls. Their mother has included in her dreams a little girl to fuss over, even
as her sonÕs complain about the daisy-patterned sheets on their beds.
But their father wants more, he has always carried within
him the shadow from the palm wreath of his own sporting success. Once you have
had something, power, success, admiration, and it has been taken from you, you
will do anything to get it back. And if you should get it back again you will
do anything to keep from losing it a second time. Do anything. To anyone. While
his two boys huddled in a cold room together dreaming about biting into crisp
red apples in the snow their father dreamed about the size of the house they
would live in when his sons played for the Red Army. Their mother dreamed for
whatever was left.
See how hard the man is holding PavelÕs shoulder? Grinding
the bones together while he speaks in a low even tone about the importance of
trying oneÕs best? Always trying oneÕs best? The necessity of ruthlessness in
all parts of life? This is the family-that-was-especially-on-Friday-nights back
again. The memory of the smell of Vodka makes PavelÕs nose crinkle up as his fatherÕs
hot breath brushes across his face.
Now they are on a bus going home, the low tone is still
employed, it is unnecessary for the rest of the world to hear this discussion.
It cannot be stressed enough how important it is for Pavel to be successful.
Cannot be stressed enough. Valeri insists on being part of this conversation,
and even though Pavel and his father both ignore him he climbs between them. He
is jammed hard against Pavel. PavelÕs right hand and ValeriÕs left hand are
squeezed between their bodies against the outside of their legs that are
pressed together. Their pinkie fingers have curled around each other, and they
both hold on tightly.
Sometimes the comfort of flesh is all you can offer. Laid
out on PavelÕs bed later that evening Valeri only half listens as his brother
warns him not to try and deflect his fatherÕs rages. Pavel does not want his
brother hurt. Ever. It would negate his own sacrifices if his Valya were ever
touched.
Valeri rolls over to his side and leans over his brotherÕs
chest to the shoulder furthest away from him. The thumb shaped imprint is
clearly visible. Almost like they are someone elseÕs hands Valeri watches his
left hand cover the bruise, Pavel is finally silent. When Valeri lifts his hand
up the crimson rose is still there. He sits up beside Pavel and tries the trick
with his right hand.
Pavel tilts his head down and watches his brotherÕs hands
across his chest.
ÒYou shouldnÕt do that Valya, we arenÕt children anymore.Ó
Valeri holds the flat of his hand over the tulip shaped mark
and looks over his shoulder at Pavel.
ÒDonÕt you still want to protect me, like when we were
children?Ó
Pavel can only nod. If it is his job to defend, it is
ValeriÕs to sooth the wounded flesh.
There is a flash of triumph in ValeriÕs eyes that Pavel does
not see because he has closed his. Valeri leans down and kisses just below the
thumbprint. He kisses just above it, and, finally, kisses the centre of the
mark.
The is a pause, the brothers wait a heartbeat and Valeri
runs his hand across the bruise on PavelÕs ribs caused by being checked into
the boards. He leans further down and blows softly against the trembling skin,
his lips just above the violet flesh.
Pavel does not open his eyes until he canÕt feel ValeriÕs
breath on his chest anymore. He has tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and
is flushed. Valeri curls into a ball on the bed. You sleep more deeply, dream
more freely, lying in bed with the one you love.
