[ORIG]Berlin[NC17/Slash]WIP
Aug. 19th, 2010 01:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icesamzeroTitle: Errr....I dunno yet ('Berlin' for now...? Russian Summer in Berlin? So a Guy Walks Into a German Porn Shop...?)
Rating: NC-17 (Eventually. For this part, dirty shopping, f-bombs, and a mankiss.)
Fandom: Original
Disclaimer: Don't own the concert/band I went to, which this is loosely based off of. Sort of. Not really. And I do not speak either German or Russian (or good English for that matter), so theonetwo Russian words I popped in here isare probably off, and as of now I think I am going to abuse strikeouts. Oooo, strikeouts. Oh, and verbosity. I guess that's a warning.
Summary: An American meets a Russian while in Berlin to see a concert, aaaand that's about all this has going for it at the moment.
Author's Notes: Ur, lessee, I have no real idea how to sell this here fic. Ficlet. WIP ficcy thing. Oddly enough, the main characters are based off of an old WIP that'll never see the light of day, which will be cannibalized for parts for this one. The impetus for this was: aforementioned WIP born of living in my roach-infested slumlord aunt's apartment complex, trufax; a Rammstein concert in Berlin (and largely my newfound and impossibly deep love for said city); and The Sims 3.
Julai was in Berlin, as in Germany. He'd come for a concert. Had gone. Was amazing.
He was barely awake, kind of aware that he was snoring. Mouth fuzzy, head pounding, neck full of rusted nails and glass and other fun stuff. He was sore, partially deaf, and so tired. His voice was gone, or damn near.
His back was warm and somebody was breathing softly on him and it made him warm inside too, in a tingly way.
Before Berlin, he'd never even kissed another man.
He'd never done a lot of stuff. Barely been out of his own state, much less over the pond. And the person behind him...at first, he wasn't remarkable-- not especially tall, nor did his face immediately stand out. His hair was a deep brown, black at night, and he'd grown it to his shoulders. He kept it in a tail when he was out and about, but Julai had seen it spread over a white pillow...
Right. How they'd met. The eyes were a strange, deep green. There were flecks of brown in them, but not enough to call them hazel; while emerald may have been pushing it, they were yet startling and beautiful.
His cheekbones unerringly bespoke his Slavic origins, though he declined to clarify the difference between Ukrainian, Russian and really any other of the small countries south of the big red one ('--they're not communists anymore, you silly inostranets').
His smile was hard-earned--"People don't smile here, my Julai."--and when it appeared, it changed his entire face. His eyes would smile with him, a hundred percent every time, and it won Julai over at the first.
The first being somewhat...embarrassing. His first day in Berlin, the first real one, Julai had time to kill. The concert was the following evening, and he realistically had one day to blow seeing the city before it was planes and trains and all that again. Julai had done the touristy thing in the morning, and late afternoon--a hazy but warm, beautiful afternoon found him walking Schönhauser Allee, with a specific couple shops in mind from his preflight Googling. He'd pretty much lost any excuse to be on the street other than his destinations, the addresses of which he'd written down and had in his pocket.
The first shop, what he thought was called La Luna but turned out to be Gorgeous, had a silly wooden sign on the sidewalk. It was shaped like a condom, and even had a big smiley face and googly eyes painted on it. It proclaimed "Kondoms, Vibratoren," and other such things. Julai grinned and took a picture of it, ignoring the few passerby who huffed at him as they brushed along his raised elbows.
Julai tucked his phone away and headed into the shop, loving at how it was just there same as any other on the street, door open and goods on clear display in the front windows.
Julai smiled at the man behind the register, who smiled back and bid him wilkommen. Julai moseyed around, poking at a novelty ball shaped like a breast with a nipple. It moved like jello when he pushed it, and he went into a fit of giggles. This was tactfully ignored by the cashier, so Julai went further into the store.
The store wasn't very big, and the selection of things was fairly contained to each category. Julai bypassed the metal and the glass and stopped at the colorful display of toys that, if he was honest with himself, he'd come here for. The company was worldwide but based in Germany, and their goods here were...well, awesome.
Julai found his target--a fairly realistically shaped vibratoren that he'd, uh, also Googled in advance--and as soon as his fingers felt the velvety silicone, tested the girth and the density, the give and--yeah, he was sold.
He found a black one, because he was adventurous but purple...? He took the box with him, noting that his favorite lube, also manufactured in Germany, was strangely absent. There were plenty of silicone-based bottles to choose from, but those wouldn't play nice with his toy, so he'd have to either find another shop or stick to his guns and keep the thing boxed until he got home. (He admitted to himself that he would most certainly die of embarrassment if the hotel staff should have to change his sheets.)
He wandered back out towards the front of the deep, narrow shop, and noted that there were two male couples browsing. Again he was fairly amazed...so open, so normal.
He asked the cashier if he spoke English, and the young man turned out to be witty and fun. Julai picked up a postcard for the hell of it, Ich bin so reich, Ich lass ficken. The cashier said it didn't have a good translation, as literally that meant "I'm so rich, I let fuck," or something, but Google later told Julai it was more along the lines of "I'll fuck." Which still didn't really make a lick of sense, and besides he'd probably be better off trusting a German than Google. But Julai was secretly twelve, as the jiggly boobie ball could attest to, and the card said 'ficken,' so that was that.
Julai happily swung his bag, thinking of looking for the next S-bahn station, when a rainbow caught his eye. Across on the next street corner was a big shop, doors open, stripes of color painted across the top of the entry and down the sides.
Bruno's. Like the photography book publisher, maybe? Julai thought the rainbow was rather unambiguous, but he was tentative as he stepped inside.
He was a little slack-jawed. Inside was amazing. Books, fiction, though the damn things were all in German, lined up the wall by the entry, and tables had soccer jerseys (of course they did), while the counter was just at his right. Two young Germans stood behind it, smiling at him. He gave them a kind of stupefied grin, managed "Fotobuchs?" and they said "Yes, that way," and gestured him further inside.
Julai felt like he was in a candy store. Titles that were on his Amazon wishlist looked at him from the shelves, paging copies in front of their shrinkwrapped cousins. He lost track of the time he dawdled, not even having looked at the rest of the shop yet. He accumulated a little pile of books, not listening to the inner voice chastising him of space and weight and would all that fit in his little carryon?
He left his stack of loot on the bottom shelf, indicating he'd be back for it, and went further into the shop. A big glass case displayed dildos all realistic (in shape, if not size) in varying fleshtones. He gawked at some of the big ones, because he'd seen what was sold in the US, sure, and online, but...wow...and he moved past them. Movies were at this section, and not porn, but honest-to-god movies. There were film festival titles, movies in all languages, romantic comedies, poignant dramas, anything. The price tags were restrictive, though, not to mention the PAL format of all the DVDs. Still, Julai was here to shop, and blow some time, and what a better way to do it?
He'd admittedly wandered past his book pile once more into the rear of the shop, where the good stuff was. This was the porn section, and it was huge. It was laid out the same as the movies, but films had been replaced with hardcore, gay-interest magazines with the kind that the pages got stuck together.
PAL format again, curses. Julai snorted to himself. The prices here were even more prohibitive. He was looking at a boxed set of something called La Dolce Vita, and while kind of highbrow porn it looked good. It was in English, and maybe about Italians, which Julai maybe had a thing for, and looked kind of plotty--
"That's a good one," a soft voice said from behind him. Julai startled and turned around, not bothering to hide it. Velvety green eyes appraised him openly, but they weren't really velvety because that brought to mind some kind of English green, too--well, green, and these were deeper than that, more of a hunter green, but no, not quite--
The face, aside from the cheekbones, was attractive enough, if not devastatingly handsome. The jawline had something beguiling, though, and the hair kind of made Julai want to run his fingers through it and he'd never even openly looked another man before.
Julai swallowed, glanced at the movie case held in his hand, and said weakly, "Plotty?"
The man didn't quite smile, and while his face wasn't severe per se, Julai was a little put off by the steadiness of his stare, pretty eyes and high cheekbones or not. "Um..."
"This is all hard core," the man said, with a vague gesture about them. His accent was Russian, or something, and the way he said hard core, two words, damn he had a nice voice. Julai wasn't usually this...stupid.
"Yeah, I gathered, but I was looking for some plot with my porn, you know?" If he found one he liked, he'd just rip it to his computer and watch it there, after all, PAL format be damned. He realized he was fairly clutching Dolce Vita, and turned around to put it back. A hundred Euros was too much.
"I'm sorry if I've made you...uncomfortable," the Russian smoky voice said, and Julai rolled his eyes. This could be a bad porno, the likes of which 'plot' he'd happily avoid. "Listen," he said, turning around, and then his irritation abruptly left him. Germany, he reminded himself. Open. Somewhere else. You're the guest here.
"Julai," he said instead, sticking out his hand and wondering immediately if it was the right thing to do.
Sure enough, Russkie with the pretty eyes and nice voice and no manners--okay, that was a little harsh--looked bemusedly down at his hand, and then back up at Julai.
Julai allowed his hand to drop, but cocked his head at the guy. "It's polite to exchange names, if nothing else."
That almost-smirk again. "Nothing else?"
Julai gave him a dirty look, and the man's laugh was one Julai could hear again, if it was disconcerting the way it didn't reach his eyes or really make him smile. "Forgive me," the Russian said, "I've no manners."
"Got that right. Neither do I. Shall we try this again? Julai."
And the Russian smirked at him. It wasn't a smile, but it was kind of nice. And then the Russian was up in his space and--
And why, why had Julai never done this before?
His fingers were in the Russian's hair, soft as it had looked, and his thumbs played over the jaw, the coarse hairs there, his tongue danced with another's, he inhaled deeply of the scent--
He shoved the guy off. This was a bad porno. "Really?"
The Russian didn't look perturbed. They were alone in the back of the shop, and, bad pornos notwithstanding, Julai had a sudden fantasy--the guy dropping to his knees, right here, going for his fly, his hair hiding the almost-smirk he'd be gracing him with.
"Vasili," the other man said softly, and it almost sounded like 'Vaseel,' but Julai was fairly certain that was his accent, not that he was a connoisseur of Russian names or anything.
"Nice to...kiss you," Julai said.
No smile, no laugh. "July, like the month?" Vasili inquired.
Julai nodded. "Brother named Jeun," he said, not bothering to spell either name. "Hey, um..." Was he going to do this? "It was nice to, meet you, I guess, I really don't know what to say."
"You haven't hit me in the mouth," Vasili said easily, "so that's a good start."
Julai looked at him frankly. "A start, huh?"
Vasili's face was so damned weird, the way the bastard never smiled. "If you like, we can start over. Or not at all."
Julai didn't say anything, figuring if the guy had been this forward already, he'd either take the ball and run with it or just run.
"You've remarkable eyes," Vasili said, and Julai furrowed his brows at him.
"They're blue," he said, nonplussed.
"Yes," Vasili said, "and they are rather set off by your skin, which, I must add, is a very pleasing shade." And contrasted wildly with his hair, Julai knew. His hair was a curse most days.
"Um. Diverse parentage. Wanna...get a beer?"
Vasili not-smirked him. "What about a hotel?"
Oh, of course. "This is the part where I tell you where I'm staying and you come by in the night to rape me."
Vasili barked. It wasn't a laugh. "Only if you want to." His voice was oddly...serious.
Julai looked at him, his guts doing this weird twist, his inner voice clanging, his lips almost still tingling with the memory of that brief, deep kiss.
"You're kind of failing to not scare me," Julai said, disregarding the fact that they were of a height, and perhaps he was taller. Vasili was of a slighter build, leaner, but something in the way he'd moved spoke of a panther's grace. Julai hadn't even seen him coming.
"Let me try this again," Vasili said, "with manners, da?"
He reached out, carefully and slowly, and took Julai's unresisting hand. He brought it up to his lips, and Julai blinked at him. Vasili kissed the ends of his fingers, very gently, and gave him an odd little Renaissance bow, allowing Julai's thumb to brush over his lower lip as he did so. "Vasili Vasiliev," he said, "quite enchanted, July."
And that was how Julai became 'enchanted' too. Curse himself for an easy bastard.
- -
"I've, uh, never kissed a man before," Julai said. He and Vasili were strolling the Tiergarten. How they got there was facilitated by an exchange of phone numbers and an offer to call. Vasili said he'd leave him a message, and if Julai were to answer it, he would.
Vasili had taken Julai's number into his own small phone, a small slider not unlike Julai's little flip for simplicity. Julai hadn't taken Vasili's--"It will be in your phone, da?"--and the Russian, or whatever he was, had left Julai to himself, presumably exiting the shop.
Julai had stayed in the porn section for a while, kind of shaky. Nerves, maybe a little fear. Mostly nerves, he thought, or fear of the unknown. Not necessarily of becoming a rape victim.
He'd gone back out to the front, gathered his books, and let his nerves settle themselves out. There was no denying the meeting had been strange, not a little thrilling, but odd nonetheless, and Julai doubted that just because this was Germany were men so forward. They were reticent, if anything, especially towards foreigners.
Julai noted a sale table, and added to his already too-large and heavy pile of books. He took these to the counter with a gleeful grin, nerves momentarily forgotten as the surprised and pleased men took his order. He ended up spending just under two hundred Euros, and pushed it up further by noting the postcards and folded cards next to the counter. He picked one up with a close-up photograph of a nut next to a bolt, the bolt lying down, the nut upright, lighting shining through the center. Inside, it said, "I hate small talk." In block letters. Julai thought it was cute.
The two men were happy to send him on his way with his goodies, and double-bagged his order for him, tossing in some condoms--"They have sachets in them, as well"-- and some advertisements along with a free DVD. Thanking them twice, Julai left Bruno's and decided that twenty pounds of books was enough to call it a day. It was after four, and he'd seen Brandenburger Tor, the Reichstag, a couple churches, had the local brews light and dark, been through Alexanderplatz and the tall radio tower thing...he'd had a good, busy day, and while it wasn't yet late, he was pooped.
Getting up so early, the walking, the biking, the U- and S-bahning, not to mention the freaking flight yesterday...Julai fantasized about his hotel bed and a hot, East-German shower.
He snagged the S-bahn to Storkower, and hopped off, prepared to hoof it back, heavy bags and all. There wasn't much to be said for taxis this way, and it wasn't a far walk in the first place, hard to justify the Euros. Especially after his touristy spending today.
Julai let his thoughts wander on the way 'home,' recapped his day, thought of the awesome pics he'd taken, the way the city enchanted him. Berlin was an amazing lady, he thought, and this was a too-fast love affair.
He made the turn to Josef-Oppel Straße, and it wasn't until he'd hit an Audi dealership that he realized he'd missed the turn for his hotel. He'd let his mind turn to Vasili, and no sooner did he turn around and head the right way his pocket vibrated, and the obnoxious default ringtone sounded. Julai rolled his eyes and walked faster, tired as he was. He was being an idiot. Could be Dad, maybe, possibly Mom. Even his sister. But it was like ass o'clock at home, wasn't it? Or was it only morning there? Nine hours, almost five here, so it'd be eight there, in the morning?
He turned on Ruchestraße and there, thank god, was the Ramada. He covered the last couple hundred yards--oh, right, last hundred meters or so--and gratefully staggered to the elevator, with a "Guten abend" at the receptionist's desk.
Once inside his hotel, he left the bags on the third bed and flopped down across the other two. His feet and legs protested the day, while his face broke into a silly grin. Berlin was awesome.
He got up to use the restroom, and toed off his shoes, checking himself out in the mirror after he'd washed his hands. His beard was shaved fine, after this morning, and his head was good too. He stuck out his tongue and checked his piercing--it'd been a while since he'd gotten the new jewelry, and he really had no reason to check it other than he was vain. He fingered his right earlobe, feeling the missing weight but deciding it was still wisest to keep the stone packed. Probably shouldn't even have brought it.
His phone vibrated once shortly, making him jump. He'd already forgotten the missed call. He left the bathroom, emptying his pockets and staring at the closed clamshell. He didn't really want to go out again tonight, and he wasn't sure about Vasili either.
What the hell. He picked up his phone and opened it, dialing his own number for voicemail, wincing at the thought of the call costing him.
"I would enjoy the Tiergarten with you," Vasili's smooth yet rough accent told him. It was somehow frank, not suave, and that pushed the enigmatic Russian up a notch in Julai's favor. "You now have my number, and it is a local one. If you call, I will meet you there. If not, we had a lovely kiss, and I do not apologize for taking liberty--it was worth it. Dasvidanya."
And that was it. Cheeky bastard.
Julai stared some more at his phone after he'd ended the call, which was going to cost him two dollars. Freaking ten seconds over one minute. He could not see Vasili, and just replay the message once--he'd already paid for it.
He closed his phone, went back to the bathroom. He needed a shower, and some rest. And some food.
He stood in front of the mirror, rolled his eyes at himself and grabbed his toothbrush.
Rating: NC-17 (Eventually. For this part, dirty shopping, f-bombs, and a mankiss.)
Fandom: Original
Disclaimer: Don't own the concert/band I went to, which this is loosely based off of. Sort of. Not really. And I do not speak either German or Russian (or good English for that matter), so the
Summary: An American meets a Russian while in Berlin to see a concert, aaaand that's about all this has going for it at the moment.
Author's Notes: Ur, lessee, I have no real idea how to sell this here fic. Ficlet. WIP ficcy thing. Oddly enough, the main characters are based off of an old WIP that'll never see the light of day, which will be cannibalized for parts for this one. The impetus for this was: aforementioned WIP born of living in my roach-infested slumlord aunt's apartment complex, trufax; a Rammstein concert in Berlin (and largely my newfound and impossibly deep love for said city); and The Sims 3.
Julai was in Berlin, as in Germany. He'd come for a concert. Had gone. Was amazing.
He was barely awake, kind of aware that he was snoring. Mouth fuzzy, head pounding, neck full of rusted nails and glass and other fun stuff. He was sore, partially deaf, and so tired. His voice was gone, or damn near.
His back was warm and somebody was breathing softly on him and it made him warm inside too, in a tingly way.
Before Berlin, he'd never even kissed another man.
He'd never done a lot of stuff. Barely been out of his own state, much less over the pond. And the person behind him...at first, he wasn't remarkable-- not especially tall, nor did his face immediately stand out. His hair was a deep brown, black at night, and he'd grown it to his shoulders. He kept it in a tail when he was out and about, but Julai had seen it spread over a white pillow...
Right. How they'd met. The eyes were a strange, deep green. There were flecks of brown in them, but not enough to call them hazel; while emerald may have been pushing it, they were yet startling and beautiful.
His cheekbones unerringly bespoke his Slavic origins, though he declined to clarify the difference between Ukrainian, Russian and really any other of the small countries south of the big red one ('--they're not communists anymore, you silly inostranets').
His smile was hard-earned--"People don't smile here, my Julai."--and when it appeared, it changed his entire face. His eyes would smile with him, a hundred percent every time, and it won Julai over at the first.
The first being somewhat...embarrassing. His first day in Berlin, the first real one, Julai had time to kill. The concert was the following evening, and he realistically had one day to blow seeing the city before it was planes and trains and all that again. Julai had done the touristy thing in the morning, and late afternoon--a hazy but warm, beautiful afternoon found him walking Schönhauser Allee, with a specific couple shops in mind from his preflight Googling. He'd pretty much lost any excuse to be on the street other than his destinations, the addresses of which he'd written down and had in his pocket.
The first shop, what he thought was called La Luna but turned out to be Gorgeous, had a silly wooden sign on the sidewalk. It was shaped like a condom, and even had a big smiley face and googly eyes painted on it. It proclaimed "Kondoms, Vibratoren," and other such things. Julai grinned and took a picture of it, ignoring the few passerby who huffed at him as they brushed along his raised elbows.
Julai tucked his phone away and headed into the shop, loving at how it was just there same as any other on the street, door open and goods on clear display in the front windows.
Julai smiled at the man behind the register, who smiled back and bid him wilkommen. Julai moseyed around, poking at a novelty ball shaped like a breast with a nipple. It moved like jello when he pushed it, and he went into a fit of giggles. This was tactfully ignored by the cashier, so Julai went further into the store.
The store wasn't very big, and the selection of things was fairly contained to each category. Julai bypassed the metal and the glass and stopped at the colorful display of toys that, if he was honest with himself, he'd come here for. The company was worldwide but based in Germany, and their goods here were...well, awesome.
Julai found his target--a fairly realistically shaped vibratoren that he'd, uh, also Googled in advance--and as soon as his fingers felt the velvety silicone, tested the girth and the density, the give and--yeah, he was sold.
He found a black one, because he was adventurous but purple...? He took the box with him, noting that his favorite lube, also manufactured in Germany, was strangely absent. There were plenty of silicone-based bottles to choose from, but those wouldn't play nice with his toy, so he'd have to either find another shop or stick to his guns and keep the thing boxed until he got home. (He admitted to himself that he would most certainly die of embarrassment if the hotel staff should have to change his sheets.)
He wandered back out towards the front of the deep, narrow shop, and noted that there were two male couples browsing. Again he was fairly amazed...so open, so normal.
He asked the cashier if he spoke English, and the young man turned out to be witty and fun. Julai picked up a postcard for the hell of it, Ich bin so reich, Ich lass ficken. The cashier said it didn't have a good translation, as literally that meant "I'm so rich, I let fuck," or something, but Google later told Julai it was more along the lines of "I'll fuck." Which still didn't really make a lick of sense, and besides he'd probably be better off trusting a German than Google. But Julai was secretly twelve, as the jiggly boobie ball could attest to, and the card said 'ficken,' so that was that.
Julai happily swung his bag, thinking of looking for the next S-bahn station, when a rainbow caught his eye. Across on the next street corner was a big shop, doors open, stripes of color painted across the top of the entry and down the sides.
Bruno's. Like the photography book publisher, maybe? Julai thought the rainbow was rather unambiguous, but he was tentative as he stepped inside.
He was a little slack-jawed. Inside was amazing. Books, fiction, though the damn things were all in German, lined up the wall by the entry, and tables had soccer jerseys (of course they did), while the counter was just at his right. Two young Germans stood behind it, smiling at him. He gave them a kind of stupefied grin, managed "Fotobuchs?" and they said "Yes, that way," and gestured him further inside.
Julai felt like he was in a candy store. Titles that were on his Amazon wishlist looked at him from the shelves, paging copies in front of their shrinkwrapped cousins. He lost track of the time he dawdled, not even having looked at the rest of the shop yet. He accumulated a little pile of books, not listening to the inner voice chastising him of space and weight and would all that fit in his little carryon?
He left his stack of loot on the bottom shelf, indicating he'd be back for it, and went further into the shop. A big glass case displayed dildos all realistic (in shape, if not size) in varying fleshtones. He gawked at some of the big ones, because he'd seen what was sold in the US, sure, and online, but...wow...and he moved past them. Movies were at this section, and not porn, but honest-to-god movies. There were film festival titles, movies in all languages, romantic comedies, poignant dramas, anything. The price tags were restrictive, though, not to mention the PAL format of all the DVDs. Still, Julai was here to shop, and blow some time, and what a better way to do it?
He'd admittedly wandered past his book pile once more into the rear of the shop, where the good stuff was. This was the porn section, and it was huge. It was laid out the same as the movies, but films had been replaced with hardcore, gay-interest magazines with the kind that the pages got stuck together.
PAL format again, curses. Julai snorted to himself. The prices here were even more prohibitive. He was looking at a boxed set of something called La Dolce Vita, and while kind of highbrow porn it looked good. It was in English, and maybe about Italians, which Julai maybe had a thing for, and looked kind of plotty--
"That's a good one," a soft voice said from behind him. Julai startled and turned around, not bothering to hide it. Velvety green eyes appraised him openly, but they weren't really velvety because that brought to mind some kind of English green, too--well, green, and these were deeper than that, more of a hunter green, but no, not quite--
The face, aside from the cheekbones, was attractive enough, if not devastatingly handsome. The jawline had something beguiling, though, and the hair kind of made Julai want to run his fingers through it and he'd never even openly looked another man before.
Julai swallowed, glanced at the movie case held in his hand, and said weakly, "Plotty?"
The man didn't quite smile, and while his face wasn't severe per se, Julai was a little put off by the steadiness of his stare, pretty eyes and high cheekbones or not. "Um..."
"This is all hard core," the man said, with a vague gesture about them. His accent was Russian, or something, and the way he said hard core, two words, damn he had a nice voice. Julai wasn't usually this...stupid.
"Yeah, I gathered, but I was looking for some plot with my porn, you know?" If he found one he liked, he'd just rip it to his computer and watch it there, after all, PAL format be damned. He realized he was fairly clutching Dolce Vita, and turned around to put it back. A hundred Euros was too much.
"I'm sorry if I've made you...uncomfortable," the Russian smoky voice said, and Julai rolled his eyes. This could be a bad porno, the likes of which 'plot' he'd happily avoid. "Listen," he said, turning around, and then his irritation abruptly left him. Germany, he reminded himself. Open. Somewhere else. You're the guest here.
"Julai," he said instead, sticking out his hand and wondering immediately if it was the right thing to do.
Sure enough, Russkie with the pretty eyes and nice voice and no manners--okay, that was a little harsh--looked bemusedly down at his hand, and then back up at Julai.
Julai allowed his hand to drop, but cocked his head at the guy. "It's polite to exchange names, if nothing else."
That almost-smirk again. "Nothing else?"
Julai gave him a dirty look, and the man's laugh was one Julai could hear again, if it was disconcerting the way it didn't reach his eyes or really make him smile. "Forgive me," the Russian said, "I've no manners."
"Got that right. Neither do I. Shall we try this again? Julai."
And the Russian smirked at him. It wasn't a smile, but it was kind of nice. And then the Russian was up in his space and--
And why, why had Julai never done this before?
His fingers were in the Russian's hair, soft as it had looked, and his thumbs played over the jaw, the coarse hairs there, his tongue danced with another's, he inhaled deeply of the scent--
He shoved the guy off. This was a bad porno. "Really?"
The Russian didn't look perturbed. They were alone in the back of the shop, and, bad pornos notwithstanding, Julai had a sudden fantasy--the guy dropping to his knees, right here, going for his fly, his hair hiding the almost-smirk he'd be gracing him with.
"Vasili," the other man said softly, and it almost sounded like 'Vaseel,' but Julai was fairly certain that was his accent, not that he was a connoisseur of Russian names or anything.
"Nice to...kiss you," Julai said.
No smile, no laugh. "July, like the month?" Vasili inquired.
Julai nodded. "Brother named Jeun," he said, not bothering to spell either name. "Hey, um..." Was he going to do this? "It was nice to, meet you, I guess, I really don't know what to say."
"You haven't hit me in the mouth," Vasili said easily, "so that's a good start."
Julai looked at him frankly. "A start, huh?"
Vasili's face was so damned weird, the way the bastard never smiled. "If you like, we can start over. Or not at all."
Julai didn't say anything, figuring if the guy had been this forward already, he'd either take the ball and run with it or just run.
"You've remarkable eyes," Vasili said, and Julai furrowed his brows at him.
"They're blue," he said, nonplussed.
"Yes," Vasili said, "and they are rather set off by your skin, which, I must add, is a very pleasing shade." And contrasted wildly with his hair, Julai knew. His hair was a curse most days.
"Um. Diverse parentage. Wanna...get a beer?"
Vasili not-smirked him. "What about a hotel?"
Oh, of course. "This is the part where I tell you where I'm staying and you come by in the night to rape me."
Vasili barked. It wasn't a laugh. "Only if you want to." His voice was oddly...serious.
Julai looked at him, his guts doing this weird twist, his inner voice clanging, his lips almost still tingling with the memory of that brief, deep kiss.
"You're kind of failing to not scare me," Julai said, disregarding the fact that they were of a height, and perhaps he was taller. Vasili was of a slighter build, leaner, but something in the way he'd moved spoke of a panther's grace. Julai hadn't even seen him coming.
"Let me try this again," Vasili said, "with manners, da?"
He reached out, carefully and slowly, and took Julai's unresisting hand. He brought it up to his lips, and Julai blinked at him. Vasili kissed the ends of his fingers, very gently, and gave him an odd little Renaissance bow, allowing Julai's thumb to brush over his lower lip as he did so. "Vasili Vasiliev," he said, "quite enchanted, July."
And that was how Julai became 'enchanted' too. Curse himself for an easy bastard.
- -
"I've, uh, never kissed a man before," Julai said. He and Vasili were strolling the Tiergarten. How they got there was facilitated by an exchange of phone numbers and an offer to call. Vasili said he'd leave him a message, and if Julai were to answer it, he would.
Vasili had taken Julai's number into his own small phone, a small slider not unlike Julai's little flip for simplicity. Julai hadn't taken Vasili's--"It will be in your phone, da?"--and the Russian, or whatever he was, had left Julai to himself, presumably exiting the shop.
Julai had stayed in the porn section for a while, kind of shaky. Nerves, maybe a little fear. Mostly nerves, he thought, or fear of the unknown. Not necessarily of becoming a rape victim.
He'd gone back out to the front, gathered his books, and let his nerves settle themselves out. There was no denying the meeting had been strange, not a little thrilling, but odd nonetheless, and Julai doubted that just because this was Germany were men so forward. They were reticent, if anything, especially towards foreigners.
Julai noted a sale table, and added to his already too-large and heavy pile of books. He took these to the counter with a gleeful grin, nerves momentarily forgotten as the surprised and pleased men took his order. He ended up spending just under two hundred Euros, and pushed it up further by noting the postcards and folded cards next to the counter. He picked one up with a close-up photograph of a nut next to a bolt, the bolt lying down, the nut upright, lighting shining through the center. Inside, it said, "I hate small talk." In block letters. Julai thought it was cute.
The two men were happy to send him on his way with his goodies, and double-bagged his order for him, tossing in some condoms--"They have sachets in them, as well"-- and some advertisements along with a free DVD. Thanking them twice, Julai left Bruno's and decided that twenty pounds of books was enough to call it a day. It was after four, and he'd seen Brandenburger Tor, the Reichstag, a couple churches, had the local brews light and dark, been through Alexanderplatz and the tall radio tower thing...he'd had a good, busy day, and while it wasn't yet late, he was pooped.
Getting up so early, the walking, the biking, the U- and S-bahning, not to mention the freaking flight yesterday...Julai fantasized about his hotel bed and a hot, East-German shower.
He snagged the S-bahn to Storkower, and hopped off, prepared to hoof it back, heavy bags and all. There wasn't much to be said for taxis this way, and it wasn't a far walk in the first place, hard to justify the Euros. Especially after his touristy spending today.
Julai let his thoughts wander on the way 'home,' recapped his day, thought of the awesome pics he'd taken, the way the city enchanted him. Berlin was an amazing lady, he thought, and this was a too-fast love affair.
He made the turn to Josef-Oppel Straße, and it wasn't until he'd hit an Audi dealership that he realized he'd missed the turn for his hotel. He'd let his mind turn to Vasili, and no sooner did he turn around and head the right way his pocket vibrated, and the obnoxious default ringtone sounded. Julai rolled his eyes and walked faster, tired as he was. He was being an idiot. Could be Dad, maybe, possibly Mom. Even his sister. But it was like ass o'clock at home, wasn't it? Or was it only morning there? Nine hours, almost five here, so it'd be eight there, in the morning?
He turned on Ruchestraße and there, thank god, was the Ramada. He covered the last couple hundred yards--oh, right, last hundred meters or so--and gratefully staggered to the elevator, with a "Guten abend" at the receptionist's desk.
Once inside his hotel, he left the bags on the third bed and flopped down across the other two. His feet and legs protested the day, while his face broke into a silly grin. Berlin was awesome.
He got up to use the restroom, and toed off his shoes, checking himself out in the mirror after he'd washed his hands. His beard was shaved fine, after this morning, and his head was good too. He stuck out his tongue and checked his piercing--it'd been a while since he'd gotten the new jewelry, and he really had no reason to check it other than he was vain. He fingered his right earlobe, feeling the missing weight but deciding it was still wisest to keep the stone packed. Probably shouldn't even have brought it.
His phone vibrated once shortly, making him jump. He'd already forgotten the missed call. He left the bathroom, emptying his pockets and staring at the closed clamshell. He didn't really want to go out again tonight, and he wasn't sure about Vasili either.
What the hell. He picked up his phone and opened it, dialing his own number for voicemail, wincing at the thought of the call costing him.
"I would enjoy the Tiergarten with you," Vasili's smooth yet rough accent told him. It was somehow frank, not suave, and that pushed the enigmatic Russian up a notch in Julai's favor. "You now have my number, and it is a local one. If you call, I will meet you there. If not, we had a lovely kiss, and I do not apologize for taking liberty--it was worth it. Dasvidanya."
And that was it. Cheeky bastard.
Julai stared some more at his phone after he'd ended the call, which was going to cost him two dollars. Freaking ten seconds over one minute. He could not see Vasili, and just replay the message once--he'd already paid for it.
He closed his phone, went back to the bathroom. He needed a shower, and some rest. And some food.
He stood in front of the mirror, rolled his eyes at himself and grabbed his toothbrush.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-25 03:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-25 04:33 am (UTC)Thanks again for ze kind words. :)