With thanks to Carol and Adrian for hotel and restaurant information!
Loan pt 2 "Oh, man... I wanna sleep for a week..."
Trey never had learned to deal with jet lag. My partner was pale, with dark bags under his eyes, and looked thoroughly miserable. I touched his hand discreetly.
"Another hour, and you may sleep for a while."
"Oh great..." he grumbled, offering me an exhausted glare. "You gonna have to deal with the suits. I'll only tell 'em to fuck off and get us deported..."
Our flight had landed at Heathrow eight hours real time - and four hours subjective time - after leaving JFK. I had slept fitfully. Trey had watched in-flight movies, eaten, and flirted with the air-hostesses. New York had been warm: London was cool, cloudy, a hint of rain upon the air. Trey shivered and pulled his jacket more closely around himself: I glanced at him disapprovingly. I had warned him that the weather in the South East of England was somewhat cooler than he was used to and to dress accordingly: as usual he had ignored me.
I know London well. On first leaving the Motherland I had spent almost a year in what had seemed to me, then, to be a bright, warm, vibrant metropolis. Such things are subjective, of course, and since then I have travelled widely in the course of my work. Neo-Tokyo is bigger and faster: Athens hotter: Mexico City more colourful, Berlin less forgiving and Paris more sophisticated, but of everywhere I have spent time, I have, as the British would say, a soft spot for London. Multi-racial, multi-lingual, with an odd brand of tolerant pride, I feel welcome here...
It is Trey's first visit, and he is distinctly underwhelmed. Fortunately our progress through customs has been expedited by both the company by whom we are now engaged, and the Force itself: a very little while later we are ushered into a warm, comfortable taxi-cab and en route to our hotel, the Basil in Knightsbridge. Shayne-Driftganger Pharmaceuticals obviously intend taking very good care of us...
Trey fell asleep on the way, waking with a jerk when I nudged him as we pulled up outside the sedate building. He followed me as I checked us in and we were shown to our rooms, almost immediately joining me in the one I had been allocated and flopping onto the king-sized bed with a groan. I eyed him assessingly, deciding room service would be a more appropriate option than trying to get him down to the dining room. Trey is not the most pleasant - or quiet - of company when he is tired and irritable.
"Get into bed. I will order us a meal."
He half-opened one eye and managed a small grin.
"Life-saver... Love you..."
I raised an eyebrow as I reached for the phone.
"Cupboard love."
"Y'whut?"
"Cupboard love. It is what my concierge - my landlady - used to say when her cats made a fuss of her in order to persuade her to feed them."
He snorted.
"An' you think that's all this is? C'mere!"
"After I have ordered us some breakfast."
He groaned.
"Fuck breakfast! I already had breakfast. I want a steak, with fries, and strawberry cheesecake to follow."
I shook my head as I placed his order, adding my own request for coffee, grapefruit juice and croissant, a pastry I had come to relish after one particularly colourful Parisian mission. Glancing at Trey, who had stripped and was lying naked and aroused on the bed, I added a further request that the meal be delivered in half an hour.
As I put down the phone he growled at me.
"Half an hour? You think I'll be done in half an hour?"
"If you are not, your meal will grow cold."
He pouted, then gave me one of his slow, sensual smiles, the ones that make me shiver.
"Better get your ass over here pronto, then."
And I did so, placing my clothes on the chair: I reached for his garments, carelessly discarded on the floor, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the bed, on top of his solid warm body, one arm around my shoulders, the other hand cupping my buttock and kneading. He sucked gently at my neck and whispered,
"Leave it. I only have half an hour to prove I don't just love you 'cause you feed me..."Twenty minutes later I lay limp and gasping as Trey pulled himself back up the bed and kissed the corner of my mouth: I weakly fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his lips to mine, tasting myself in his mouth, feeling his penis rigid against my thigh. One of Trey's ways of proving his love for me is to ensure that I am satisfied while denying himself. Especially in situations when I can do nothing to ease his own discomfort until later. Which is very... tender of him, if a little annoying at times. I reached for his erection - and a knock came on the door.
"Room service. Your... breakfast, sir..."
Trey wriggled and prodded my ribs.
"You better go. I'd give 'em a heart attack like this..."
I bit his lower lip gently.
"Do not flatter yourself."
He swatted my backside indignantly - and quite painfully - as I pulled my robe out of my case and onto my body then answered the door...The croissants were perfect - light and flaky, warmed and dripping with rich English butter - the coffee hot, black and strong, and the juice tart and refreshing. Whether Trey actually tasted his meal I cannot say: he bolted it so quickly he had finished before me. I shook my head.
"I will not offer sympathy should you suffer indigestion..."
He stuck out his tongue.
"Oh, I know better'n to expect sympathy from you." He smiled, his eyes softening. "Come back to bed."
"I must unpack."
"It'll wait. Please, 'lexi. C'mere."
The nickname proved how tired he was - he knows I do not like it and rarely uses it. I hesitated, teasing him, then draped the robe over the chair and slid back into the bed. He pulled me close; his half-hard penis rapidly engorging as he bit my jaw. I sighed and reached for my robe's pocket, pulling out the tube of lubricant I always keep there.
"Are you awake enough?"
He nuzzled my neck, his "uhuh" muffled, and I pulled away slightly, uncapping the tube with my teeth and squeezing the gel onto my fingers. Trey groaned and shivered as I stroked the coolness onto his penis then straddled his waist.
I took a deep breath, reached behind me, and shifted us both into position, then carefully pushed down, holding my breath and making myself relax. I am not fond of being penetrated without adequate preparation, but Trey was both tired and twitching with unfulfilled arousal and I did not want to waste any time - we both needed sleep. He gasped as his penis slid into me, quivering - wanting, I knew, to push upwards, but waiting until I was ready...
It is always uncomfortable, that first... filling sensation, and often painful if I am tense. And yet, once I have adjusted to the feeling, so oddly comforting. Allowing another into one's body in this way - it is an act of great trust, of great love...
Trey wraps his hands around my shoulders and pulls me down to him, so that he can reach my face, kissing me, making love to my mouth as his body is making love to mine, his hips jerking upwards. Curled over like this his penis rubs over my prostate with each movement, forcing my own organ erect again, and he fondles me, his fingers warm and knowing on my flesh. As he reaches orgasm he freezes, and I feel his penis pulsing gently deep inside me: with a groan he kisses me, wraps one hand around the nape of my neck, the other pumping my erection, wanting me to come too, though I am really too tired...
As he slackens he slides from me, his semen trickling down his groin, over his testicles, and he sighs, gazing up at me ruefully as he feels my own penis soften.
"'m sorry... timing sucks..."
I chuckle softly and ease myself down to lie beside him.
"You have only yourself to blame."
"What'd I do?"
"Exhausted me, earlier."
"Oh. Oh. Well, I guess that's OK then... Ain't it?"
"Oh yes, vorolye. We should rest now."
He snuggled closer, eyes closing.
"Don' y'wanna shower?"
I do, but we are both very tired. Just this once, I will wait until later. I kiss him.
"Sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow..."It was late afternoon - five-thirty according to the clock - when I awoke. Trey was still soundly asleep: I left him there while I showered. He was rousing by the time I came back into the bedroom, and gazed at me from sleep-drugged eyes.
"Mmmm... Anyone ever told you how fucking sexy you are?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"You. Frequently."
"S'all true..." He sighed. "Wish you'd let your hair grow a bit though."
I stifled a twinge of irritation. I'd made the mistake - although I hadn't recognised it as such at the time - of letting Trey see a photographic image of myself before I left Russia, when my hair reached almost to my waist. One of the first things I did on reaching London was to have it cut short, and although I have since let it grow a little (it is 'layered', shaped around my face and covers the nape of my neck at the back) it really is too fine to wear long, even if I felt so inclined.
Trey disagrees. He wants to be able to play with it. I prefer it short and tidy, masculine. I think we will never agree on this subject.
"It is more suitable for our work like this."
He grunted, but let the matter drop, and propped himself up on the pillows, his arms behind his head, as he watched me dry myself.
"Comin' back to bed?"
I felt my lips tighten as I glared at him.
"There is more to life than sex..."
He smirked.
"Yeah, I know. There's food too. An' basketball."
I shook my head in mock despair, then sat on the end of the bed.
"It has been a long time since I was last in London. I wish to... reacquaint myself with the city."
Trey groaned.
"We gotta be tourists?"
"Of course not. But I would like to walk for a while. Maybe find somewhere for a meal."
The mention of food caught his interest.
"Sounds good. What d'you fancy - apart from me, I mean?"
I refused to acknowledge the half-jest.
"I do not know. We should perhaps simply walk until we find something of interest."
He flung back the duvet and stretched, yawning. I have to confess he does have a fine, strong, very attractive body. Unfortunately he is aware of the fact.
"OK... Let's get dressed then."
I was already unpacking, hanging suits - mine - and jeans - Trey's - into a wardrobe. I paused when I reached familiar black fabric and pulled out the shirt Trey had bought me for my birthday, a high-necked tunic in silk, with fine embroidery in black on the shoulders. I eyed him suspiciously.
"And when did you slip this into my case?"
He grinned.
"I put the boots in too. And those pants..."
I sighed and rubbed a hand over my forehead. Trey seems to take more pride in my heritage than I do, and likes me to dress in what he thinks is 'traditional costume'. Unfortunately his notion of traditional costume has been coloured by displays of 'Russian' dance and the occasional film with a token 'Russian' - a villain, usually - in it, and bears little resemblance to the real thing. But at least it is sombre, and comfortable, and it is little enough to ask...
Resignedly I pull the clothing out of the case and dress. Trey licks his lips and slides from the bed, loping to me and hugging me tightly.
"Thanks..."
I grimace and kiss his cheek.
"Understand that I will not be wearing this every evening."
"Right." He steps back to run an admiring gaze up and down my body. "Don' care what you think - I like you in that."
"That is the only reason I wear it."
He grins delightedly, as though given a gift, and I sigh.
"You also will need to dress, if we are to go out."
He places a broad palm over my groin and squeezes firmly, making me shudder.
"You really wanna go out?"
I step back and glare at him.
"Yes, I do. And if you are not ready in ten minutes, I will go without you..."It was ten o'clock by the time we returned, comfortably full of the excellent pollo parmigiana we had eaten at a small trattoria we had found accidentally in a back street. A decent Barolo, a dessert of pears poached in red wine, and a taxi back to the hotel later, we were tired again, but more comfortable, Trey having satisfied his stomach's appetite and myself happily soaking up the smells, the sights, the feel of this wonderful city that had been my introduction to the freedoms and joys of the Western world...
I grow effusive. I am obviously more weary than I had thought. Trey pulls me to him, kissing along my jaw then capturing my lips. His mouth tastes of the grappa and espresso with which he finished his meal, and his hands are strong and knowing upon me...
I will not think of what my life might be without him. Not tonight, not ever if I can help it.
He moans quietly into my mouth, lifting me bodily into his arms - which is not the easiest of things to do. I am... slighter than my partner, thinner, but nonetheless not small, and we are close to the same height, yet he lifts me effortlessly.
"I love you. Love you love you love you..."
He is very tired, and a little drunk, his feelings very close to the surface: his love washes over me, wraps me in a shroud of adoration... and I feel unworthy. I do not deserve this. I have done nothing to deserve it.
"Trey..."
He closes my mouth with a kiss, then pulls back to smile at me, his eyes soft and loving.
"Y'don' have to say anything, lover. I'll do all the lovin' for us both..."
Which is unfair, but he will not countenance argument tonight. I sigh and kiss him.
"Bed."
He chuckles and grins at me, eyes suddenly twinkling.
"Yeah?"
"To sleep." I add, sternly. He nuzzles my hair, but swings me back down to my feet, sighing regretfully.
"Yeah, you're right. Busy day tomorrow."
Minutes later we are in bed and he is asleep, his head resting on my shoulder, his arm across my chest, nestling as close to me as he can, and I stroke his hair.
Why is it so difficult to tell him that I love him?Tarrence, the Shayne-Driftganger Pharmaceuticals representative, was accompanied by a police officer - a Chief Inspector Macnannan - several private security guards, a nondescript individual who was something to do with insurance, and a young woman who stared at me, then spoke to Tarrence in an undertone. He eyed me with a certain degree of hesitation, then sighed.
"Ms Smith tells me you are a psi."
I glanced at the woman, who offered a small smile. How had she known? Unless... I opened, very slightly, and nodded to myself. She was a talent herself. Of course she would have been aware of mine.
"That is correct."
Tarrence grimaced.
"Well, we've tried everything else... You'd better take a look at the scene..."The site of the latest explosion was - had been, rather - a research facility on the outskirts of the city. There was very little left of the complex, the sabotage had been quite thorough. Trey loped off to take a closer look at the remains: I stood with Tarrence and surveyed the area.
"What has already been determined?"
"The place was blown with semtex. Took place at night, when the complex was mostly deserted - and the terrorists rang in a warning two minutes before they set everything off. Not long enough for counter-measures to be taken, but just enough time for the few people still working to get clear."
I frowned.
"Interesting. Terrorists with a conscience. What was being done here?"
There was a pregnant silence. I waited. Finally Tarrence said, very reluctantly,
"Genetic research."
I nodded.
"What kind of genetic research?"
"That information is on a need-to-know basis."
I folded my arms.
"And I need to know."
"No you don't."
"If you wish these attacks to stop, yes I do."
Ms Smith murmured something in his ear, and he growled.
"Very well. You understand that this is confidential."
"Of course."
He gestured to me to walk a little way from the others, then spoke quietly.
"Transgenics."
I inclined my head, and he grunted.
"Swapping DNA between species."
"Plant species?"
"No... animals."
"For what purpose?"
"Medical, mostly. Organs for surgery. Human-compatible blood for blood banks. Research into genetic conditions and disorders."
I scowled. Such research had its detractors, and its opponents, of course, but I was not aware of any terrorist group sufficiently violently opposed to the work as to wish to destroy its source...
Trey rejoined us, frowning.
"I need to speak with your forensics guys, see what they turned up."
Tarrence nodded.
"Surely. You'll have our full cooperation."
"May I have a few moments alone with my partner?"
He blinked, but nodded, and withdrew beyond the cordoned-off area with his cohort, leaving Trey and I alone in the middle of the ruins. Trey eyed me sombrely.
"What d'you want me to screen out?"
We have not yet been able to establish how Trey does what he does, or even if he is a talent himself. He puts his ability down to the chemistry between us and his love for me. The main thing is that it works. I nodded towards Tarrence and his group.
"Them only."
He grinned and gazed at me, into my eyes, and I felt the strange prickling that indicates that his ability is in operation - and that it is safe for me to open.
... a swirl of faint emotion... very little, but then, the area is mostly deserted... yet there is something... there, on the very periphery, almost at the limit of my perception... hatred. Strong, focussed hatred. Focussed on what...? the objective eluded me... Something else, something... despairing? A great sense of loss, of grief... something not quite human...
I came back to myself to find Trey's hands on my shoulders, his expression anxious.
"Are you OK?"
I nodded, wiping absently at something tickling my face, stopping to stare as I realised it was a tear. Trey ran his thumbs over my cheekbones, brushing away more.
"What was it?"
"I... do not know..."
He wanted to hold me, I could feel it, but our arrangement is to keep our personal relationship private. It is safer that way. He lowered his hands and gestured to Tarrence.
"We better go. I gotta get to their forensics lab, interview their people. You should go back, get some sleep..."
His over-protectiveness is another mildly irritating fact of life. I smiled grimly.
"I need to quantify what I have learned. I also need to investigate information about local disenfranchised groups." We started walking towards Tarrence. "No doubt one of our... friends, here, will prove helpful in that particular area."Thus it was that, while Trey went with Tarrence, the Chief Inspector and a couple of the guards, Ms Smith, the insurance person, the other two guards and myself headed back towards the centre of London. More specifically, to the large building Ms Smith referred to as Agency HQ, where - she said - I might be able to find the information I was seeking.
I had heard of the Agency, of course - there was no law-enforcement or anti-criminal institution on the planet that had not. Generally speaking, however, the IATF preferred to remain autonomous - although it was not above high-handedly taking control from the local authorities if it considered the action appropriate. That had made the Force very unpopular in a great many places. Ms Smith, however, was friendly enough on the ride back, making the usual small talk...
The driver stopped outside Agency HQ and Ms Smith ushered me into a large, airy foyer, asking me to wait while she found someone who could assist me.
And so that the resident talents could quietly 'check me out', as Trey would put it...
I could feel the gentle scrutiny even behind my shields - but it was gentle, unobtrusive, and non-invasive. They were simply ensuring that I did not pose a threat.
After five minutes Ms Smith came back, smiling and ushering me into a lift: a minute later I was being shown into a comfortable office. Ms Smith introduced its inhabitant as Wilma de Winter then, with another smile, left us alone.
"Sit down, please!" The accent was Australian, but its owner... I eyed her... him... her...
I shook myself. The body was physically female, but the attitude, the - feeling, was male. de Winter had been born male, I was as sure of it as I was unsure of how to respond to him... her...
I decided on her. After all, if he had wanted to become she, the least I could do was to respect that wish. At her invitation I seated myself: she eyed me speculatively and grinned.
"Welcome to London, and to the Agency, Mr Alexandreivich. What can we do for you?"Trey was sprawled on the bed, a pile of notes beside his laptop and a frown of concentration on his face, when I returned: as I entered he bounced up, leapt across the room and grabbed me into a rib-creaking hug, kissing me hard. I chuckled as he released me.
"And how long has it been since we last saw each other?"
He slid his hands inside my trousers, cupping my buttocks and squeezing gently.
"Oh, hours 'n' hours 'n' hours... We got time for a quick fuck?"
I gave him a mock glare.
"After we have compared notes."
He pouted, and I bit his lower lip.
"The sooner we see what progress we have made, the sooner we can... fuck."
He loosened my tie, undid the top buttons of my shirt, and nipped my earlobe.
"I love the way you say that. All embarrassed. You blush, too."
I felt my face redden, though whether with embarrassment or arousal I couldn't say: his lips on that spot on my neck made coherent thought a little difficult.
"I do not!"
He chuckled, pulling my groin to his, rubbing his erection against mine.
"If you say so..."
I gritted my teeth. Trey can be irresistible - but we had a job to do.
"Vorolye, later. Please."
He slid a hand around to the front of my body, fingertips teasing the head of my penis, murmuring,
"But if we fuck now, we'll be able to concentrate better..."
He has a point...Trey likes variety. He also enjoys somewhat risqué activities. This time he had me lean on the windowsill, gazing out and down at the people passing in the street, still wearing my opened shirt but nothing else, while he took me from behind, shoving me forward with each thrust, hard penis rubbing deliciously over my prostate as I struggled to keep my expression impassive - not that there was much chance of anyone seeing us, but one can never tell... His testicles slapped against the backs of my thighs and he cupped mine in one hand, the other pumping my erection tantalisingly slowly... I bit my lip as I came, pulsing into his hand: he gripped my hips and lowered his face, biting my shoulder as he climaxed with a long groan.
It took us a minute to recover our breath, and my legs were trembling by the time Trey eased himself gently from my body. I grimaced at the semen oozing down my thighs and smeared across my groin and hip, and he laughed and kissed me.
"God, you're such a... a... neatnik!" He grinned slyly and licked his lips. "Want me to clean you up?"
Trey's relaxed acceptance of his body and all of its functions still surprises - and occasionally disturbs - me, even now. If I had said yes, I have no doubt he would have happily licked me clean... I shook my head.
"I will shower, thank you." I glanced at his groin, his penis glistening and sticky with drying semen. "Will you join me?"
"As if I could resist..."Half an hour later, showered and dried and naked on the bed, Trey sprawled and myself sitting cross-legged, we shared the information we had uncovered.
It would appear that the terrorists - we would continue to refer to them as such until we discovered otherwise - had entered the facility through the sewers that ran underneath the complex, a difficult and hazardous task at best. The bolts holding the manhole covers had been sheared, somehow, by some kind of cutting implement, but not one that corresponded to anything on the admittedly very extensive database. Tiny traces of foreign material found on the remains of the bolts had proved to be an extremely hard and durable metal alloy. Small pieces of material found on the pipes and walls of the tunnels was still being checked, but seemed to be nothing more than fabric. However, a tiny trace of blood on the under surface of a manhole cover had produced DNA, which the lab were currently trying to match. They had assured him he would be the first to know once they'd finished their analysis.
"So what'd you get?"
I frowned and slid the rewritable cd into the drive, calling up the copied files de Winter had allowed me to bring back. Trey stared at the images on the screen, then gazed up at me, pale and wide-eyed.
"These are for real?"
I nodded. I'd been equally horrified on hearing about this... evil trade in lives.
"They are called pets. They are... made to order for the very, very rich for use as sex slaves. Their modifications are both physical and mental. The physical changes are on the genetic level: animal DNA is combined with their own to produce the desired result..."
"And the S-D labs that've been blown up are engaged in transgenic research. There's a connection?"
"That is what we are here to establish. Although the Agency has begun to think so. They have no concrete proof, but there are certain indications... There is the fact that the 'clinics' who perform this... monstrous activity are protected by very powerful psis. Very powerful. The Agency has some of the best and even they have been unable to break the security."
Trey was silent for a moment while he read more details, his mouth twisting with disgust.
"OK - assuming this is connected, who would be doing it? I mean, if people pay that much for a pet, surely they wouldn't let them escape? And if they make it impossible for them to communicate, how could they get organised? Especially with some of these... behavioural mods."
"I do not know..." but something had suddenly occurred to me, and I shivered despite the glowing warmth of the room. Trey took my hand, alarmed.
"What is it?"
"At the site, earlier... I felt hate, such strong hatred... and the source was not quite human..."
Trey is nimble-minded.
"So maybe an escaped pet. One that still has some control over its mind? But how would it have access to the tools? The explosives? The skills?"
"I don't know!" My voice was louder than I had intended with frustration. I quietened a little. "But all things are possible if one is determined enough. And there are rumours of escaped pets from the earliest days of this vile trade, pets who could still communicate... As far as can be known, those who are made into pets usually do not have any family. But there are always sympathisers, the disaffected, who will stir up trouble for the sake of it." I paused, closing my eyes with a shudder. "Or perhaps for the sex. Which is, after all, what these pets are made for."
Trey pulled me down fast into his arms.
"Hey, it's in the past, lover. All gone. Never to return."
I allowed myself his comfort for a moment, then pulled back a little.
"If our case is connected to those the Agency are dealing with - and I believe that it is, the similarities are pronounced - then we would do well to pool our resources."
Trey nodded, accepting the change of subject without comment.
"OK by me. They're pretty highly thought of over here." He rubbed his hand over his face. "So what now?"
"We meet with de Winter tomorrow at eleven a.m. After that - we will see."
"OK... What d'ya wanna do tonight?"
I stroked his face.
"I think a meal might be in order."
He grinned.
"Fine idea!"
"There is a place a few minutes walk from here - Borscht 'n' Tears. I remember it from my earlier times in London."
Trey's voice was dry.
"Let me guess - Russian?"
My voice was drier.
"Your perception never fails to amaze me..."
He laughs and tweaks my penis, easing a fingertip under my foreskin and circling the head, grinning as I gasp: he is gentle, and the combined sensations, against the smoothness of my glans and the soft sensitivity of the protective skin, is electrifying... Trey was circumcised as a newborn and is deeply angry about it, has never forgiven his parents for allowing such mutilation. He squirms down my body, lowering his head to my groin, following the path of his fingertip with his tongue, pulling my foreskin up again when my erection forces it down below the head and sucking on an edge of the soft skin...
I can hear myself moaning, but I am somewhere else, caught in a surging upswell as he takes me into his mouth, into his throat, the heat and tightness in my groin almost painful as he sucks...
There are beautiful colours behind my eyelids as I come, bright flashes against a soft black backdrop filled with stars... every nerve afire... I shake as the tension slowly, warmly fades along my legs, my back, across my groin... I could wish the feeling would last forever...
"I love you."
Trey is lying beside me, stroking my face, my throat, his touch trailing shivers across my sensitised skin. I open my eyes, gazing directly into his, and weakly raise a hand to touch his lips.
"Trey..."
He kisses my fingers, bathing me in his love. I whimper and pull him to me, holding him as tightly as I can, and he sighs his happiness, nuzzling my hair...
Long minutes later I release him, kissing him gently.
"But you are hungry, vorolye."
He chuckles and grins.
"You need food too." He rolls to the side and pulls me up into his lap for a last long embrace. "Let's get dressed, yeah? I wanna see this place that you remember with such fondness..."
© 2004 January 4th Joules
Darkside
© 2004 Wordwrights
Sparrow. Alexei likes this chirpy, cheeky little bird, and used to feed them crumbs when he first came to London: in his mind they are associated with freedom and hope. It is, of course, an entirely inappropriate nickname, physically-speaking, for Trey - as he will no doubt point out when he finally thinks to find out what the Russian means - but to Alexei it symbolises the love and stability Trey provides, release from fear, and hope for the future.
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