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It was rare for the General, the golden boy, to possess a weakness, and rarer still for him to show it. But when he returned with his handpicked engineers after blowing up a critical Ceta checkpoint in what the older men said was the worst winter for decades, he was shivering, blue about the lips, and utterly foul-tempered. It took a while for Ezar to recognise this not as the General's habitual snappishness, but as the mood swings that marked the early stages of hypothermia. The mission had been successful and the men were tired, but Piotr was keeping them standing while he rated them for every fault and misstep they had made during the past three days. The men looked hangdog and worried rather than resentful, but then, they worshipped Piotr. Everyone did.
"Dismissed!" Piotr finally snarled. The sergeant with them gave Ezar a pointed look as he went past: he's all yours now. "And I don't know what you're staring at," Piotr continued, whirling on Ezar. "I'm off to check on the horses."
In the bitter damp cold. "I need you to stay here a while," Ezar said in a mild and non-confrontational voice. He put a hand on Piotr's arm. His sleeve was wet and icy.
Piotr struck his hand aside. "What," he demanded in a biting voice, "you've missed being fucked while I was gone? All right then." He shoved Ezar back against the wall, his mouth hard and cold on Ezar's.
That would keep him warm and inside as well as anything else, Ezar considered. He let himself be pushed, but when Piotr tried to unfasten his belt, his hands were too numb with cold to do the job.
"Come here," Ezar said, seizing the tactical moment of Piotr's brief confusion at his body's rebellion. He propelled Piotr through the curtain to his own quarters, which were as warm and dry as any place in these caves. "Yes," he added quietly as Piotr sat abruptly on the heap of blankets that served as a bed. "I did miss you." And not just because it was more comfortable to sleep with another body's heat alongside, in this winter.
"Fuck," Piotr muttered. "I'm frozen."
Ezar helped him strip off his wet and filthy clothes, revealing unnaturally pale skin, and, he couldn't help but note, absolutely no possibility of Piotr making good his promise until he'd got a good bit warmer. He joined Piotr in the pile of blankets, and just for a moment, Piotr seemed his true age as he curled against Ezar, shivering violently.
Then he said, "No, put your arm here, that's better," and he was back to ordering Ezar around again. His shivering gradually subsided and his shaky breathing steadied. He did not, of course, thank Ezar for his help, but he did kiss him, a rare gentle kiss, and mutter, "I'll fuck you in the morning. Don't go anywhere," before falling asleep with his head tucked against Ezar's shoulder.
The General was back.