The shagging room

Chapter 4

It turns out that they didn't get the opportunity to speak about the whole ordeal. The days following the... impromptu meeting, had been spent either in practice or in common rooms. Bringing up a subject as delicate as a freshly-discovered-to-be-mutual-attraction-through-a-steamy-time-with-your-teammate, even in between their own quarters, wasn't something either Maxim nor Timur would be crazy enough to talk about. But Maxim, for one, had a hard time falling asleep as of late, recalling the lingering feeling of a pulse under his fingertips and sweaty brows furrowed in concentration below him.

Timur had been dancing around him for quite some time before this, that much is sure. Neither of them ever mentioned it or acted on it, but the attraction had been unmistakeable; the evident staring, the eyes shying away when Maxim dared to look back at the younger man, the unease in close quarters combat training whenever their faces got too close. And whether it be their forced physical proximity in the unit and on missions, their similarities in thinking, the sheer talent Timur was displaying in every field, or just for the pretty blue eyes, Maxim had found himself staring back more than necessary.

He had kept silent, though, seeing as Timur seemed very uncomfortable. Maybe he, himself, was subconsciously – really ? – avoiding the subject as well. Thankfully, Maxim knew how to manage frustration, especially of this kind, without any help, or so he believed. He also believed that none of his teammates noticed the more... frequent morning wood he had to take care of in the silence of their shared dorm; or the longer showers he took after training, his mind filled with soft whimpers that weren't foreign to him anymore and hot flesh under his hands.

And now, well, it was becoming increasingly difficult to tip-toe around each other. It was as though fate was finding every excuse to put them in each others paths. It was frustrating Maxim to no end, and demanded resolution. He just hoped it wouldn't take too long.

—

Choosing to hang by the shooting range at night had its advantages, one of them being that Maxim didn't have to train under the scorching mid-august afternoon sun. The nights here were definitely still too warm for him, but they were the better alternative. Plus, being alone, he could spare himself all the heavy gear they were usually required to wear in daytime practice, a welcome change during this part of the season.

Maxim doesn't come back too late, this time. He notices the lights are on in the shared kitchen as he opens the door, and he winces upon entering, feeling the heat of the room. This building is impossible to cool during summer.

He immediately spots Timur sitting on a chair around the main table, finishing up some kind of berry ice cream that he absentmindedly picks at, while scrolling on his phone. At such an hour? What a weirdo.
Maxim mumbles a greeting and makes his way to the sink, washes his hands and grabs the water bottle he left in the fridge before practice.

While he chugs the deliciously cold water, Maxim tries his best to ignore Timur at his side. He really does try. But he feels the piercing gaze of the other man, drilling holes in the side of his skull, and when he turns his head angrily to tell the younger man to either stop it or make his mind, it's even worse. Instead of averting his gaze as he would usually do, Timur shoots back a dirty look from his chair, and then proceeds to check him out. He just- eyes him from head to toe, with way more confidence than he did just a few days ago in the changing rooms, and while sucking on his spoon with much more intent than what a normal person would do.

Maxim doesn't know if it riles him up in a good or in a bad way, but with the pent up frustration and lingering doubt from the past days, he decides that it's unbearable.

"You're doing this on purpose." he growls out, more to himself than anything.

He angrily slams the water bottle back on the counter, with enough force to make the plastic pop upon hitting the furniture, and approaches Timur, who in answer gets up, looking annoyingly unbothered. Maxim stops in front of the other man when he's close, when he's very close, looks him dead in the eyes, and waits. In the still too hot air, he can feel two, three of Timur's exhales on his collarbone.