Accompany Fedorov to his quarters

“Come on.” He urges me, heading for the door and opening it for me. He nudges me out of his office with a hand on my back.

Fedorov’s quarters are adjacent to the office, in an offshoot where many of the officers sleep. He directs me into his room, which is the nearly the same size as the room I shared with ten other people, now six.

Fedorov closes the curtain which is crudely rigged over the opening of his quarters. We stand in darkness, until Fedorov sparks a match and lights a candle which sits on a small nightstand, The flickering candle eerily fills the room with a dim light.

“Hat, coat, weapon.” Fedorov says. “You don’t need those.”

With much apprehension, I slowly shed my equipment.

Fedorov lets out a series of grunts and groans as he sits on his creaking cot. I look at the brimming ashtray on his table, nestled among empty vodka bottles, cans of caviar, and other junk.

Fedorov leans forward and grabs one of his black leather boots. He makes sounds of struggling as he rocks back and forth, yanking on his boot, his face turning redder and redder. It looks as if he can barely reach his feet. Exasperated, he falls backwards, sprawling his arms out, his fat belly heaving.

“Pull my boots off.” He gasps. I cautiously step forwards and take a hold of his boot, before pulling on it. It does not give at first so I have to grit my teeth and yank harder before it finally gives in.

“The other one!” He urges me, propping himself up on his elbows. I lift his other leg up and pull his other boot off, before I set the pair neatly on the ground.

“Very nice.” He sighs, letting his sweaty feet air. They smell like a dead animal. He wiggles his dirty toes, one of which sticks out of his tattered sock.

Fedorov grunts, groans, and flails back and forth as he tries to sit up, then sheds his waist belt and unbuttons his brown uniform top. I stand and watch awkwardly. Once he is down to his undershirt, he begins to unbutton his blue pants and pulls them down his hairy thighs. Fedorov begins to show difficulty again once his pants are lower than his knees. He balls himself up and strains again.

“Euuukhhh!” He grunts, rolling forwards and backwards. “Rrrgghhh!”

He rolls back and heaves. “Help me!” He says, his voice gurgling. Fedorov coughs and hacks as I pull his pant legs over his feet. He sticks his legs out to help me remove his pants completely. I fold them and hand them to Fedorov, who grabs them from my hand and flings them haphazardly into a corner.

Fedorov spends the rest of his breath shifting his body to the back edge of the cot, against the wall.

“Come here, Tatyana. Don’t be shy.” He says, rubbing the surface of the cot with his hand. I shiver as I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Take off your boots.” He urges me. “Lay down, make yourself comfortable.”

I tiredly pull off my own black leather boots and nervously lay on the bed next to Fedorov.

“You are shivering!” He says. “Let me warm you up!”

Fedorov shuffles over to me, and throws his arm and one of his hairy legs over me. He pulls his blanket along with him. I lay on my back, stiff as a board, pinned underneath his fat belly. On the edge, I have nowhere left to run.

He brings his face up to mine. “I am so happy that you made it back, Tatyana.” He says, and starts to slobber on my cheek and neck. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He’d probably jerk off. It makes me so uncomfortable that in some weird, fucked up way, this psychopath somehow cares about me, even if just a little bit. Even if it’s just so he can make me suck him off. I might be the only reason why he didn’t **** my entire squad.

Fedorov strokes my hair. “Kiss me.” He says, and rolls the entirety of his immense weight on top of me. I struggle to breathe as Fedorov moves in and starts to desecrate my mouth with his lips and his slimy tongue.

“Mmphfff!” I mumble, squirming beneath him, my eyes wide open.

Fedorov draws his face back. I take the opportunity and try to catch my breath. “We should do this more often, Tatyana.” He says. “You just need practice.”

He moves in for another kiss, and I begrudgingly cooperate with him.

“I liked that very much.” Fedorov says when he pulls back. He rolls mostly off of me, still hanging his arm and leg over my body. He turns his head back and blows out the candle before nuzzling his head back into me. We lie still and he doesn’t say a word.

Fedorov begins to snore. He isn’t going to try and fuck me this time? I can’t begin to understand this man and our relationship. There’s nowhere for me to go at this point, and I’m just exhausted enough to fall asleep on the cot with him.