Better Than Vodka

The wind was whistling around the rotten bricks of the building and slinking up through the stairwell when Sasha Pudovkin pushed open the door of flat 327B. It was bitterly cold outside, and flecks of snow clung to the fibres of his black wool coat and his leather boots. He crossed the threshold, shut the door, then sneezed wetly behind his gloved hand, twice in succession. He'd had the remnants of a cold for nearly a week now, and it didn't show any signs of improving any time soon. Considering the circumstances, he was not surprised at that.

He sighed tiredly, tugging off the gloves and tossing them on the little kitchen table. The tiny flat consisted only of two rooms: the bedroom and the living room, which doubled as the kitchen. The only reason he called it the kitchen at all was because that was where the stove was located. The thing was really more an fossil than a stove; it managed fairly well at cooking food, when there was food to cook, but it did little by way of warming the flat. It was something Sasha had grown accustomed to. He always felt cold these days; it was the sort of feeling that settled into one's bones, a constant reminder of the strife around him.

Shedding his coat and hat, he meandered stiffly over to the old stove, the sound of his boot heels echoing off the cold wooden floors and reinforcing his feeling of loneliness. He lit it mechanically, grateful at least that he still had some wood left, and pulled a bottle of cheap liquor from the cabinet next to the stove. It was hardly what he would have chosen, back when he had the luxury of choice, but at the moment all he cared about was getting warm. He gulped down a mouthful quickly, shuddering at the bitter taste. The liquid burned all the way down, settling heavily into the pit of his belly.

Replacing the bottle he began idly disengaging the buttons on his shirt as he made his way into the narrow hallway towards the bathroom. It was surprisingly spacious considering the rest of the flat, but it had fallen into such a state of disrepair that Sasha would not have been at all surprised if one day the entire roof caved in on him. The tiled walls were encrusted with grime that would probably never come off even if he'd had the motivation to clean it; the faucet in the shower had a spray that rivalled only a child's squirt gun, and none of the faucets in the house produced hot water. He was lucky enough to have electric lights, dim as they were; he flicked them on, ignoring the scratching of the rats in the walls, and turned on the faucet in the sink, splashing water over his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, feeling vaguely disconnected from the sight of his gaunt frame on the glass. What struck him more was the bloodshot look of his eyes, the blue-purple circles below them, the hollowness of his cheekbones beneath the sheen of dark stubble. There was a desperation in his brown eyes that was unsettling to him. He knew this way of life was taking a toll on him, but seeing it manifested so clearly was rather disturbing. He shut off the light and stepped back into the hallway.

Leaning against the wall, he sighed with the sort of heaviness that comes from too many long nights of being hungry. The wind picked up outside, rattling the panes of the few windows in the flat as snow pelted the glass. He could feel the winter in his bones even inside the building. He shivered, wishing he had something to drink other than that cheap booze he'd just sampled. It had been so long since he'd had a swallow of good vodka. The shit he had these days was a poor substitute, all fire and no warmth, and always left him dissatisfied, knowing what he was missing.

He pulled a crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and tapped one out, smiling wryly at the irony. The tobacco was probably even cheaper than the bitter liquor in his cabinet. He cracked a match to life and lit the cig, taking a few slow drags, but all it did for him was make him cough and burn his throat even more than the booze had. "Fuck," he muttered irritably, smashing the cigarette out on the heel of his boot. Finally he decided to hell with it - he felt too thrashed to bother fighting the sickness or the exhaustion anymore. At least there was still one comfort left waiting for him.

He wandered down the hallway wearily, pushing open the bedroom door, stepping over the creaking boards in the threshold as he entered. It was quite dark here, lit only by the silvery moonlight pouring in through the bare window across from him. The walls were an unadorned, uniform grey, with patches of paint missing in some spots and peeling in others, but one would hardly notice this for the huge Union Jack that was spread flat and straight across the bed in the centre of the room. The stripes stretched out over the mattress like arms reaching out in an embrace. The moonlight made the colours look stark and shocking, the white gleaming like freshly-fallen snow, the blue appearing nearly black, the red like fresh bloodstains. But what most caught Sasha's attention was the big dog standing in front of the bed, watching him intently. He smiled shyly. "Hello, Kazimir."

Tall, well-muscled, powerful, elegant - his great head raised expectantly, the akita stood proudly in the cold moonlight, the beams reflecting off his thick grey and black fur and making him look rather mystical and unreal. His curled tail was waving from side to side slowly, and Sasha couldn't help but smile at that, forgetting his ill mood, at least for the moment. He ran his hand across the dog's head, feeling the downy hair behind Kazimir's pointed ears. "Let's go to bed," he murmured, letting his fingers slip from the soft fur.

He loosened his belt, smirking as he noticed the dog watching him attentively. He let his trousers drop to the floor, feeling the fine hairs on his knees begin to prick in the cold air, but he felt too tired at the moment to bother unlacing the tall boots so he simply left them on. Kazimir wouldn't mind.

Sasha sat on the edge of the bed, drawing Kazimir's head into his lap. His fingers stroked down the beast's strong neck, rippling through the thick ruff affectionately. Kazimir flicked out his pink tongue, lapping across the rough stubble on Sasha's cheek, moving to the softness of his mouth. Sasha parted his lips slowly, feeling the dog's tongue sliding across his teeth, probing into his throat. He breathed the slightest whimper as Kazimir moved his tongue from Sasha's mouth to his neck, flicking behind his ear as he went, making the Russian shiver. He raked his fingers through the dog's fur, feeling the knots of muscles beneath the skin, shifting and flexing.

With his other hand, Sasha guided Kazimir's head downward gently, and the dog began slaking his tongue across his nipples, making him gasp aloud. His prick was responding to this treatment as well, rising stiffly between his thighs, and he could see the pale pink tip of Kazimir's cock beginning to slip from it's sheath. He shut his eyes after that, dropping his head back as Kazimir's tongue began to glide across his belly. He could feel the soft, wet tongue teasing the little hairs just below his navel, and the sensation made him writhe in nearly painful ecstasy, his boots clunking against the bed frame and making the mattress shudder beneath him.

"Oh!" he yelped as Kazimir suddenly licked across the shaft of his cock, grazing the tip, gathering the droplets of precum that were dripping forth. He arched his back, falling back onto the bed as Kazimir's tongue slicked across his cock and balls. He could feel the seams of the flag pressing into his back, against his ass.

His legs were spread wide, his boot heels resting on the edge of the bed frame, and the sight of that pale little ass was what Kazimir had been waiting for. His cock was now bouncing proudly between his legs, precum dripping freely from the pointed tip. He jumped up between Sasha's legs, his paws looped behind the Russian's shoulders, holding him to the bed. Sasha could feel the hot wetness of Kazimir's cum splashing across his ass, the tip of his prick pressing into him, and he moaned aloud in anticipation.

And then, the moment of penetration - feeling the burning heat of that canine cock sliding into the tightness of his ass, throbbing and slick with precum, probing so deeply that Sasha almost blew his load on the first stroke. His fingers twisted into the flag beneath him, his legs tightening against Kazimir's hips and holding the dog even closer to his body.

The soft fur on Kazimir's chest and belly rubbed seductively across Sasha's prick, making his hips arch upward reflexively, straining for the feathery touch. His blood was racing now, and he no longer felt the cold, instead only the pulsating heat of his aching cock and the throb of Kazimir's inside him. "Oh, God..." he gasped, feeling Kazimir's knot pressing against his ass, and, deep inside, the tip hitting against his prostate.

The speed of the akita's thrusts was increasing; over his own heavy breathing, Sasha could hear the dog panting as he, too, neared his peak. His claws were digging in to Sasha's shoulders, but he didn't even care, too caught up in the moment to notice the twinge of pain. He twisted against the rough canvas of the flag, his fingers crawling across it, feeling the fabric clinging to him, caressing and stroking his skin as he writhed beneath the dog's body.

Then, without warning, Kazimir suddenly jumped against him, leaning into Sasha so closely that their bellies were pressed together, and Sasha felt the white-hot explosion of the dog's cum squirt deep into his belly. The temperature was so warm that he could feel every jet of cum as it permeated his guts, seeming to fill him up completely, and with a half-choked gasp he loosed his own semen violently across the dog's chest, streams of the lovely white liquid sticking in Kazimir's fur and splashing back onto Sasha's skin.

The dog continued to slam his hips against him even as he came, drawing out Sasha's pleasure for several agonizing seconds, making the Russian shudder and twitch helplessly beneath him as the last streams of cum squirted between the two of them, finally subsiding to a drip as he fell limply across the rumpled flag, spent and panting.

As his senses slowly returned to Sasha, he felt Kazimir separate himself from him and looked up to see the dog licking up the sticky liquid that clung to the fur on his chest. His heart suddenly went out to him then; Kazimir didn't care about the gaunt meagerness of Sasha's body, the hollowness in his eyes, the air of gloom that seemed to hang over him these days. He simply accepted him as he was. He loved him.

Sasha fell back on the bed, feeling pleasantly sleepy now. He'd forgotten about the freezing feeling that had plagued his bones earlier. None of that really mattered now, anyway. Hazily, he felt the bed sag slightly as Kazimir climbed atop it, lying close by his master's side, his soft fur ruffling against Sasha's skin. Sasha curled against the dog, draping on arm across his shoulders and burying his nose deep in the soft ruff. He smiled sleepily. This was better than vodka.