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Quotes Galore : Special Forces – Soldiers by Aleksandr Voinov

Quotes Galore : Special Forces – Soldiers by Aleksandr Voinov

 

Out of hundreds and thousands of pages of books that I have read. Out of all the stories that I have had the chance to bury myself in. When it comes to M/M romance books, this book will always go down as one of my favorites.

I read “Special Forces : Soldiers” when I first started dipping into M/M genre books. Despite me being skeptical about the book at first, and it being one of the longest book I have ever read ever, as soon as I finished reading the first chapter, I knew I was done for. There was no going back. As I have already fallen irrevocably, and helplessly in love with both the main characters, Dan and Vadim.

Their love story is what poets write about.

The intensity and the range of emotions this book brought to the table is out of this world.

This book made me feel emotions that I have not felt while reading in a long, long while. Special Forces – Soldiers, is those kind of precious books that reminds me why I loved reading in the first place.  

Which is why today, after the umpteenth time of me re-reading parts of the book just to experience the feels that it brought me all over again, I have decided to dedicate a blog post to all my favorite quotes in Special Forces – Soldiers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Vadim wanted to press him against the wall, turn him around, fuck him again. Harder. Longer.

And again. Until both their bodies couldn’t take any more, and then cut his throat.”

 

A dangerous game.

Cat – mouse, tiger and moth. The dance in the flame had begun.

 

“You know what I am, Russian cunt? Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

The voice. The kind of voice Vadim could listen to, whatever it said. Even better when it was a challenge.

 

“A merc. A soldier. He was the heat Vadim wanted, needed, to burn, to turn the world into ash. He was the glint of a blade at midnight.”

 

“You are a memory. A perfect moment. And I’m your memory, too,” Vadim snarled. “You won’t forget me. Never.”

 

“Whatever they do, never believe what you feel makes you less able to win. It’s simply not true.”

 

“He wanted him. He had always and would always want. This. Man.”

 

“I’m not like you.” Dan repeated his prayer. “I’m not a fag.” I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not …

 

“No, you’re not,” Vadim murmured, finding it very hard to speak. “Not a weak-ass sissy boy like me.”

 

“What the fuck is it with you?” Pointedly staring at the hard-on. “If I cut your throat, would you come?”

 

“Maybe. You want to try?”

 

“Would you do it again, if you could?”

 

“Yes. I would.”  

If I could have you, I’d take you.

 

“You’re a cunt, but you’re my cunt.”

 

“The crystallised moment before death intensified the touch of their lips, a thousand times and many more again. His first kiss, his last kiss. If he had any time left, he’d be addicted.”

 

“I’m giving you an alibi,” he said, in Russian.

I’m giving you so much more than that. I’m giving you your life. My desire.

 

“The man wanted him. And he wanted this man. Always wanted him. He wanted that man so desperately. Had wanted him like the bullet, like death, like going home.”

 

“What do you want?” Dan couldn’t stop the words. Lies. What do I want.

 

Tell me. No.

 

Show me, you motherfucker!

 

“You,” Vadim murmured, voice rough.

 

“Have you ever loved without wanting?”

 

The question, unexpected, too deep and profound for Dan not to be shocking. His answer came out before he could think. “No. I have only ever wanted, never loved.”

 

“If cock-sucking-tasting-swallowing was what being a fag was all about, he wanted nothing but to be a fucking fag, and with ten-star rating.”

 

“Now watching, waiting again, still for the same man, but this time the stakes had been upped and a whole new deck of cards had been handed to the very few players.

Hearts or spades; he’d take the cocks instead.”

 

“That man was like a tropical thunderstorm, he thought. The very heart of thunderstorms, not the rumble and flash, but a proper, all-encompassing, world-will-end thunderstorm.”

 

“Not sure what you want …” murmured, staring at that smile, slowly deciphering what the hell that smile meant, and ending up with cryptic messages all over his brain. No sneering, no smirking, no threats and no anger. Just a smile. Holy fuck. “But whatever that is, I can assure you …” he twisted his hips further into the hand, voice no more than a murmur, “it’s exactly the right way to get it.”

 

“Dan was undone.

One taste of it, and he was hooked all over again.”

 

“Truth was a bitch without tits.”

 

Remembered the hair. That name. Recognition of something deep, profound, reaching on a level where conscious thoughts did not matter.

“Protect me.” Big words – small voice.

 

“Dan. Always him. Always, and again and again.”

 

“You are safe, for the moment. I need to leave in maybe two days, three when I’m stretching it.”

And I will, of course. Stretch my luck again, just to make sure you’re alright. 

 

“But what’s the difference between a lie that is believed and the truth?”

 

“You are …” like a faun, a reclining marble faun, only alive, that I’ve seen on a postcard. Somewhere in a museum in Europe.

Naked, spread legs, face showing the agony of lust, of wanting. Your eyes are places of shadows, deep and true and secret. “Beautiful. I mean … handsome.”

 

“Afghanistan, his fate, his life, and probably his death. Afghanistan – and his Russian.”

 

“Why the fuck are you so desperate to fuck me?”

 

“Because I want to have you, completely. Your strength. Your … pain. Every motion of your body. Everything.”

 

“Sometimes, his coach had said, you just can’t breathe. That’s life.”

 

“No, I have no home anymore.” Dan’s hand stopped Vadim from turning over fully. 

“You’re as close to a fucking home as I get.”

 

“Once upon a time he’d hated that body, smashed it, kicked it, beat it into a bleeding pulp, but now he wanted to crawl into it, or kill it and maim it, to possess it, eat, tear, destroy it, to take it and never leave it again.

His. The body was his, the man was his. His, his, his alone.”

 

“Funny,” Dan murmured at long last, “it’s another first today.”

He paused, “You seem to be the one for firsts,” his breath caught, “and lasts and always.”

 

“Dan chuckled against Vadim’s lips. He’d never get enough, now that he had tasted the addiction. Another one, and he’d never again be free of his Russian.”

 

“With Dan, he felt strong, powerful, at peace. Somebody who could reduce him to reckless need, somebody who matched him stride for stride, knife for knife. Blow for fucking blow.”

 

He felt connected, more than just his cock inside the Russian’s body, more than words and more than touches. “You conquered me, got to this Special Forces bloke well and truly. You could betray and kill me now and I wouldn’t give a shit as long as you’d stay close until I died.”

 

“Couldn’t … betray you. I … stay as … close as I can.” Because I fucking need you.

 

“Good. Because I won’t let you leave.”

 

“When this war’s over, so are we. Over.”

 

“Even if that’s … how it ends, I won’t forget you.”

 

“Don’t say shit like this. It fucking hurts, you get me? Don’t you ever say anything like that again. You know as much as I do that this will be it. Short of a miracle, you’re bloody stuck in your responsibilities to your family and country. And I? I’m stuck in the West, paying for a fuck and imagining every time it was you.”

 

He didn’t wait for a reply, got hold of the head in front of him instead, and pulled Vadim into a kiss. Fierce, ferocious, utterly possessive.

If all they had was Afghanistan, then he’d make it bloody worth it.

 

“We’ve been through everything bad. There might just be something good in the end.

If the universe was fair. If pigs could fly.”

 

“He’d promise anything, meant it, would die defending this man, would live and die and suffer for him.”

 

“I met Vadim in 1980 under circumstances that I cannot repeat. We were hell-bent on destruction at first. Enemies: two soldiers, Soviet spetsnaz and British SAS.”

 

“You’ll remember tonight.” Teeth digging into soft flesh of neck and throat, right above the cigarette burn. The bite answered by a drawn-out groan. “You’ll remember me.”

 

“Always … to my last breath. Last bullet. Last thought.”

 

“You’ll wear me on your skin, and in return I’ll carry you in my flesh.”

 

“I remember when I first looked at you. Really looked at you. I hated you. You were so goddamned perfect and yet so flawed. I thought I was better than you. How wrong I was. Without you, I would not be myself anymore, not even alive. I wanted you even then. I wanted you all the time.”

 

Afghanistan. Kabul. Vadim.

 

“From sex to anger to laughter. That man made his head spin.

 An enemy who was occupying more time in his mind than hunger, thirst, or the damned itching of fleas and nits. Every night. Every day. Every hour when he was not fighting or surviving.”

 

 

 



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