Healing Hands (1/3)
anonymous
November 19 2009, 04:57:19 UTC
AN: Um, yeah. Long, fail, probably not what the author wanted. Sorry.
Alfred glanced up from the magazine he had been reading as the door opened. He broke into a smile. “Hi, Toris.”
“Hello, Alfred,” Toris said, as he shut the door against the rain. He pulled back the plastic hood of his raincoat, and set down the grocery bag, before beginning to tug off his coat and boots.
“Still cats and dogs out there?” Alfred asked, putting down the magazine on the coffee table.
Toris nodded as he finished stripping off sopping layers until he was dressed in a thin, long-sleeved undershirt. “Looks like it will keep up all night.” He walked over and sat on the arm of the sofa. Alfred grabbed him and pulled him in closer, wrapping an arm around his slim shoulders.
“Gosh, you’re cold,” he murmured, stroking Toris’s damp hair.
Toris shrugged. “I feel fine.”
Alfred shook his head, tutting even as he grinned. “You’re insane.” He leaned over to kiss Toris’s (cold!) mouth.
Toris met his kiss gratefully, holding one of Alfred’s hands and knitting his fingers with the other nation’s. Alfred pulled him tighter, sliding a hand around Toris’s waist and pressing his fingers against the older nation’s back.
He stopped as he felt a violent shiver pass through the whole of Toris’s body like an electric shock. Toris pulled away from the kiss, grimacing.
“Hey, man, what’s wrong?” Alfred asked nervously.
Toris shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Toris,” he said firmly.
Toris continued to shake his head, and tried to squirm out of Alfred’s arms. “I’m fine,” he repeated. Alfred didn’t miss the way that he winced when he moved too sharply. Alfred reached out and held him by one thin wrist.
“Please, tell me, sweetheart,” Alfred said, pulling out the corny endearment that he knew worked on Toris like a charm.
True to form, Toris relaxed and sank back into the couch. He sighed. “It’s really nothing. I don’t want you to worry. It’s just… I don’t know if it’s the cold or the rain, or…” he took a deep breath, then mumbled, “Sometimes they hurt.”
Alfred’s stomach twisted. His scars…
After years of living together, Alfred had seen the scars several times, the heavy patchwork of crisscrossing white and red lines stretching from Toris’s shoulders to sickeningly low on his hips. Toris still did his best to hide the marks, wearing shirts no matter the weather or situation, dressing and undressing in private, and most of all never mentioning them or the circumstances that led to their creation.
He even would only make love with Alfred while on his back, so that the scars were hidden. Alfred didn't like the fear and insecurity that entered into normally sweet Toris when the issue of his scars came up, but he took Toris’s lead and treated the disfiguring marks as nonexistent.
He couldn’t remember Toris ever bringing them up like this before. He was a bit unsure of how to continue. So, he settled for letting go of Toris’s wrist and stroking his hair gently. “Bad?”
Toris bit his lip. “They… a bit. I can handle it though.”
“Do they hurt often?”
“No, not… not too much.”
Alfred sighed. “Oh, Toris.” He brushed the hair off of Toris’s forehead and kissed him there lightly. He pulled Toris into a gentle hug, careful not to touch his back.
Toris shivered again, letting out a shaky breath. “It’ll be fine soon,” Toris mumbled. “They’re just… irritated. That’s all.”
“You should tell me this stuff, sweetheart,” Alfred said sadly. He pressed his lips to Toris’s ear.
The nickname caused Toris’s shoulders to slump in relaxation, as he leaned into Alfred’s hug. “Yes,” he agreed quietly.
Alfred pulled Toris back and surveyed the smaller nation thoughtfully. Toris had that sad, faraway look in his eyes, the one that Alfred hated, because it made him afraid of what Toris was thinking. Or remembering. He placed a hand under Toris’s little chin and pulled his face up, smiling at him.
“Hey, Toris,” he said. “I’ve got an idea. I think it’ll make you feel better, but you’ll need to trust me a lot. I won’t mind if you don’t want to.”
Toris blinked slowly, as he held onto Alfred’s arms and stroked. “I… trust you.”
“Really?”
Toris rolled his eyes ever so slightly. “Yes, Alfred.”
Healing Hands (2/3)
anonymous
November 19 2009, 04:59:25 UTC
Alfred snorted. “Don’t give me any lip.” He kissed the other nation quickly on the mouth, and then gently pulled him to his feet. Moving Toris as carefully as a china doll, he started pulling him towards the stairs heading towards their bedroom.
“I promise,” Alfred said, “I know what I'm doing.”
“I… It’s not that bad,” Toris protested weakly, as he was led down the hallway.
“Sweetheart,” Alfred began exasperatedly, “please, I love you, but shut up.”
Toris smiled, and stopped arguing. He followed Alfred into the bedroom and stood still as the other nation shut the door behind them.
“You should sit down first,” Alfred said softly. Toris hesitated, then crossed the room and sat down on the bed. There was an awkwardness about the way that he moved, like the way that he had acted when he first arrived at Alfred’s house.
Alfred smiled and sat down beside Toris, touching the other nation’s hands and chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m gonna take good care of you, sweetheart.”
He placed a hand on Toris’s cheek and turned his head to the side, to capture the lips in his own. They kissed slowly, gentle at first, deepening as Toris pushed forward. Alfred exhaled blissfully, winding his fingers through that silky brown hair of Toris’s that he loved so much.
Alfred must have lost track of time, because the next thing he was aware of was Toris shaking and squirming faintly in the way that he did when he was trying to hide pain. Alfred pulled back and held Toris’s face in his hands. “Does it really hurt that bad?”
Toris would probably have tried to play down the reaction, but couldn’t when he was still wincing painfully. He nodded faintly.
Alfred kissed Toris’s forehead again. “Okay. Can you take off your shirt, for me, and lay down on your stomach?”
Toris’s eyes widened and he looked at Alfred uncertainly. “Alfred…”
Before Toris could finish, Alfred reached out and took hold of both of the other nation’s hands in his own. He brought them to his lips and kissed the still chilly knuckles. “Trust me, Toris.”
After a moment’s pause, Toris nodded, and echoed Alfred’s smile before moving away so that he could pull the shirt over his head. Meanwhile, Alfred scurried off the bed and off towards their bathroom, calling, “There’s just a few things I need to get. One moment.”
He glanced around the small bathroom for a moment, then hit upon the small, black toiletry case on the counter. He picked up the case, along with a few towels, and ran back into the bedroom.
Toris was already laying face down on top of the covers, still shivering slightly, his head turned away from Alfred. Unfortunately, this also gave Alfred a full view of his mangled back.
Alfred slowly walked over to the bed and sat down, unable to take his eyes off of the grisly injuries.
Ever since Toris moved in with him, Alfred had had trouble reconciling the childish eccentricity that Russia displayed in meetings and summits, with the sort of ruthless, methodic brutality that would have been required to inflict so much pain. The scars ranged from long, straight slashes, clearly the product of a whip, to deeper irregularly shaped ones, made by god knows what.
Alfred didn’t like to look at the scars any more than Toris did, for the simple reason that they made him think of his beautiful Toris, alone and in pain. But, he also knew that it was worse for Toris to be suffering in silence, than to share his pain with Alfred.
The prone nation shivered and pulled away from Alfred a bit. “Alfred…?”
“It’s okay,” Alfred said, placing a hand on Toris’s arm. “I’m here.”
Toris turned to face him. “What’s in the bag?” he asked politely. It was clear from his voice that he was trying to mask the fear evident in his dark, expressive eyes.
Alfred grinned. “Really cool stuff,” he enthused, digging into the black bag, and pulling out various bottles and packages, at the same time as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbow. “Lessee, this is… vitamin E, St. John’s wort, cocoa butter, wheat germ oil…”
“Where do you get all of this stuff?” Toris asked with a little laugh.
Alfred shrugged. “You know, even I don’t really know anymore. Now,” he picked up the bottle of cocoa butter and started to rub it vigorously onto his hands, “lay back and relax.”
Healing Hands (3/3)
anonymous
November 19 2009, 05:01:11 UTC
When Toris’s expression looked doubtful, Alfred leaned over and kissed him, catching his cheek and a bit of his nose. Toris pacified and laid his head into the pillows.
Alfred finished oiling his hands and replaced the bottle to the nightstand with its fellows. He shifted around a bit, so that he was sitting on his knees, straddling Toris’s legs. He was about to press his hands to the smaller nation’s back, when better sense prevailed.
“Toris,” he announced, “I’m going to touch you now, okay? And if you want me to stop, just holler and I will.”
“Thanks, Alfred,” Toris said quietly. Alfred smiled to himself and then placed his hands on Toris’s shoulders, where the scarring was lightest and began to rub the oil in.
Toris hissed, his shoulders contrasting. Alfred paused. “Okay?”
“Mm-hm,” Toris mumbled, burying his face into the pillows. “It’s just… it feels strange.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” Toris said quietly. “Please keep going.”
More gently, Alfred continued to press his fingers into Toris’s rough, bumpy skin. His hands slid gradually lower down Toris’s sides.
Toris exhaled deeply.
“Is that good?” Alfred murmured.
“Mm,” Toris hummed in response. Alfred smiled, stroking his fingers along a pale hollow between his back and stomach. He carefully rubbed two wet fingers perpendicular to one of the newer scars, pushing slowly harder and harder into the skin, a technique he couldn’t remember picking up, but knew worked.
Toris made a small noise and twitched a little.
“Sh.”
“That feels amazing,” Toris breathed.
Alfred smiled and rubbed his fingers harder, moving on to another scar. Toris sighed contentedly and buried his face into the pillow. Humming tunelessly, Alfred slowly worked his way along the other country’s lower back. After a few minutes, he pulled away to smear his hands with St. John’s wort, breathing in the deep, leafy smell.
As he placed his hands to Toris’s back, he leaned over and pressed his face against Toris’s cheek. Toris nuzzled back, a little smile twisting his lips.
“Feeling better?” he murmured.
Toris nodded, opening his eyes and blinking sleepily. “Much better. Thank you, Alfred.”
Alfred leaned in and pressed his lips to Toris’s. After a moment, Toris kissed him back, one of his hands closing around the other nation’s wrist. Alfred rolled around to lie next to Toris, still kneading his greasy fingers into Toris’s back.
Toris pulled away slightly, breathing gently, warmly against Alfred’s mouth. “Are you sure they don’t bother you?” he said quietly.
Alfred cocked his head slightly. “What bother me?”
“My scars,” Toris said, his voice breaking a little on the last word, one that Alfred didn’t think that he had heard the other country say before.
Alfred paused, running his fingers over the slick bumps on Toris’s back. He moved forward so that his lips just barely brushed Toris’s. “What scars?”
Toris’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but then Alfred caught Toris’s mouth in a full kiss. Toris melted against Alfred, opening his mouth to the other country, as their mouths gently moved together.
Alfred wrapped his body around the smaller nation’s body, feeling the warmth of his mouth, and the steady thump of his heart. In that moment, Alfred felt like he could make Toris feel better, just through force of will.
Re: Healing Hands (3/3)
anonymous
November 27 2009, 19:08:46 UTC
Awesome job, writer!anon. It had such a calming feel to it, but I could still really sense how insecure Toris was about the scars, and yet how caring Alfred was. Excellent job :D
Alfred glanced up from the magazine he had been reading as the door opened. He broke into a smile. “Hi, Toris.”
“Hello, Alfred,” Toris said, as he shut the door against the rain. He pulled back the plastic hood of his raincoat, and set down the grocery bag, before beginning to tug off his coat and boots.
“Still cats and dogs out there?” Alfred asked, putting down the magazine on the coffee table.
Toris nodded as he finished stripping off sopping layers until he was dressed in a thin, long-sleeved undershirt. “Looks like it will keep up all night.” He walked over and sat on the arm of the sofa. Alfred grabbed him and pulled him in closer, wrapping an arm around his slim shoulders.
“Gosh, you’re cold,” he murmured, stroking Toris’s damp hair.
Toris shrugged. “I feel fine.”
Alfred shook his head, tutting even as he grinned. “You’re insane.” He leaned over to kiss Toris’s (cold!) mouth.
Toris met his kiss gratefully, holding one of Alfred’s hands and knitting his fingers with the other nation’s. Alfred pulled him tighter, sliding a hand around Toris’s waist and pressing his fingers against the older nation’s back.
He stopped as he felt a violent shiver pass through the whole of Toris’s body like an electric shock. Toris pulled away from the kiss, grimacing.
“Hey, man, what’s wrong?” Alfred asked nervously.
Toris shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Toris,” he said firmly.
Toris continued to shake his head, and tried to squirm out of Alfred’s arms. “I’m fine,” he repeated. Alfred didn’t miss the way that he winced when he moved too sharply. Alfred reached out and held him by one thin wrist.
“Please, tell me, sweetheart,” Alfred said, pulling out the corny endearment that he knew worked on Toris like a charm.
True to form, Toris relaxed and sank back into the couch. He sighed. “It’s really nothing. I don’t want you to worry. It’s just… I don’t know if it’s the cold or the rain, or…” he took a deep breath, then mumbled, “Sometimes they hurt.”
Alfred’s stomach twisted. His scars…
After years of living together, Alfred had seen the scars several times, the heavy patchwork of crisscrossing white and red lines stretching from Toris’s shoulders to sickeningly low on his hips. Toris still did his best to hide the marks, wearing shirts no matter the weather or situation, dressing and undressing in private, and most of all never mentioning them or the circumstances that led to their creation.
He even would only make love with Alfred while on his back, so that the scars were hidden. Alfred didn't like the fear and insecurity that entered into normally sweet Toris when the issue of his scars came up, but he took Toris’s lead and treated the disfiguring marks as nonexistent.
He couldn’t remember Toris ever bringing them up like this before. He was a bit unsure of how to continue. So, he settled for letting go of Toris’s wrist and stroking his hair gently. “Bad?”
Toris bit his lip. “They… a bit. I can handle it though.”
“Do they hurt often?”
“No, not… not too much.”
Alfred sighed. “Oh, Toris.” He brushed the hair off of Toris’s forehead and kissed him there lightly. He pulled Toris into a gentle hug, careful not to touch his back.
Toris shivered again, letting out a shaky breath. “It’ll be fine soon,” Toris mumbled. “They’re just… irritated. That’s all.”
“You should tell me this stuff, sweetheart,” Alfred said sadly. He pressed his lips to Toris’s ear.
The nickname caused Toris’s shoulders to slump in relaxation, as he leaned into Alfred’s hug. “Yes,” he agreed quietly.
Alfred pulled Toris back and surveyed the smaller nation thoughtfully. Toris had that sad, faraway look in his eyes, the one that Alfred hated, because it made him afraid of what Toris was thinking. Or remembering. He placed a hand under Toris’s little chin and pulled his face up, smiling at him.
“Hey, Toris,” he said. “I’ve got an idea. I think it’ll make you feel better, but you’ll need to trust me a lot. I won’t mind if you don’t want to.”
Toris blinked slowly, as he held onto Alfred’s arms and stroked. “I… trust you.”
“Really?”
Toris rolled his eyes ever so slightly. “Yes, Alfred.”
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“I promise,” Alfred said, “I know what I'm doing.”
“I… It’s not that bad,” Toris protested weakly, as he was led down the hallway.
“Sweetheart,” Alfred began exasperatedly, “please, I love you, but shut up.”
Toris smiled, and stopped arguing. He followed Alfred into the bedroom and stood still as the other nation shut the door behind them.
“You should sit down first,” Alfred said softly. Toris hesitated, then crossed the room and sat down on the bed. There was an awkwardness about the way that he moved, like the way that he had acted when he first arrived at Alfred’s house.
Alfred smiled and sat down beside Toris, touching the other nation’s hands and chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m gonna take good care of you, sweetheart.”
He placed a hand on Toris’s cheek and turned his head to the side, to capture the lips in his own. They kissed slowly, gentle at first, deepening as Toris pushed forward. Alfred exhaled blissfully, winding his fingers through that silky brown hair of Toris’s that he loved so much.
Alfred must have lost track of time, because the next thing he was aware of was Toris shaking and squirming faintly in the way that he did when he was trying to hide pain. Alfred pulled back and held Toris’s face in his hands. “Does it really hurt that bad?”
Toris would probably have tried to play down the reaction, but couldn’t when he was still wincing painfully. He nodded faintly.
Alfred kissed Toris’s forehead again. “Okay. Can you take off your shirt, for me, and lay down on your stomach?”
Toris’s eyes widened and he looked at Alfred uncertainly. “Alfred…”
Before Toris could finish, Alfred reached out and took hold of both of the other nation’s hands in his own. He brought them to his lips and kissed the still chilly knuckles. “Trust me, Toris.”
After a moment’s pause, Toris nodded, and echoed Alfred’s smile before moving away so that he could pull the shirt over his head. Meanwhile, Alfred scurried off the bed and off towards their bathroom, calling, “There’s just a few things I need to get. One moment.”
He glanced around the small bathroom for a moment, then hit upon the small, black toiletry case on the counter. He picked up the case, along with a few towels, and ran back into the bedroom.
Toris was already laying face down on top of the covers, still shivering slightly, his head turned away from Alfred. Unfortunately, this also gave Alfred a full view of his mangled back.
Alfred slowly walked over to the bed and sat down, unable to take his eyes off of the grisly injuries.
Ever since Toris moved in with him, Alfred had had trouble reconciling the childish eccentricity that Russia displayed in meetings and summits, with the sort of ruthless, methodic brutality that would have been required to inflict so much pain. The scars ranged from long, straight slashes, clearly the product of a whip, to deeper irregularly shaped ones, made by god knows what.
Alfred didn’t like to look at the scars any more than Toris did, for the simple reason that they made him think of his beautiful Toris, alone and in pain. But, he also knew that it was worse for Toris to be suffering in silence, than to share his pain with Alfred.
The prone nation shivered and pulled away from Alfred a bit. “Alfred…?”
“It’s okay,” Alfred said, placing a hand on Toris’s arm. “I’m here.”
Toris turned to face him. “What’s in the bag?” he asked politely. It was clear from his voice that he was trying to mask the fear evident in his dark, expressive eyes.
Alfred grinned. “Really cool stuff,” he enthused, digging into the black bag, and pulling out various bottles and packages, at the same time as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbow. “Lessee, this is… vitamin E, St. John’s wort, cocoa butter, wheat germ oil…”
“Where do you get all of this stuff?” Toris asked with a little laugh.
Alfred shrugged. “You know, even I don’t really know anymore. Now,” he picked up the bottle of cocoa butter and started to rub it vigorously onto his hands, “lay back and relax.”
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Alfred finished oiling his hands and replaced the bottle to the nightstand with its fellows. He shifted around a bit, so that he was sitting on his knees, straddling Toris’s legs. He was about to press his hands to the smaller nation’s back, when better sense prevailed.
“Toris,” he announced, “I’m going to touch you now, okay? And if you want me to stop, just holler and I will.”
“Thanks, Alfred,” Toris said quietly. Alfred smiled to himself and then placed his hands on Toris’s shoulders, where the scarring was lightest and began to rub the oil in.
Toris hissed, his shoulders contrasting. Alfred paused. “Okay?”
“Mm-hm,” Toris mumbled, burying his face into the pillows. “It’s just… it feels strange.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” Toris said quietly. “Please keep going.”
More gently, Alfred continued to press his fingers into Toris’s rough, bumpy skin. His hands slid gradually lower down Toris’s sides.
Toris exhaled deeply.
“Is that good?” Alfred murmured.
“Mm,” Toris hummed in response. Alfred smiled, stroking his fingers along a pale hollow between his back and stomach. He carefully rubbed two wet fingers perpendicular to one of the newer scars, pushing slowly harder and harder into the skin, a technique he couldn’t remember picking up, but knew worked.
Toris made a small noise and twitched a little.
“Sh.”
“That feels amazing,” Toris breathed.
Alfred smiled and rubbed his fingers harder, moving on to another scar. Toris sighed contentedly and buried his face into the pillow. Humming tunelessly, Alfred slowly worked his way along the other country’s lower back. After a few minutes, he pulled away to smear his hands with St. John’s wort, breathing in the deep, leafy smell.
As he placed his hands to Toris’s back, he leaned over and pressed his face against Toris’s cheek. Toris nuzzled back, a little smile twisting his lips.
“Feeling better?” he murmured.
Toris nodded, opening his eyes and blinking sleepily. “Much better. Thank you, Alfred.”
Alfred laughed lightly. “I love you, Toris.”
“You too,” Toris mumbled, eyes sliding shut again.
Alfred leaned in and pressed his lips to Toris’s. After a moment, Toris kissed him back, one of his hands closing around the other nation’s wrist. Alfred rolled around to lie next to Toris, still kneading his greasy fingers into Toris’s back.
Toris pulled away slightly, breathing gently, warmly against Alfred’s mouth. “Are you sure they don’t bother you?” he said quietly.
Alfred cocked his head slightly. “What bother me?”
“My scars,” Toris said, his voice breaking a little on the last word, one that Alfred didn’t think that he had heard the other country say before.
Alfred paused, running his fingers over the slick bumps on Toris’s back. He moved forward so that his lips just barely brushed Toris’s. “What scars?”
Toris’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but then Alfred caught Toris’s mouth in a full kiss. Toris melted against Alfred, opening his mouth to the other country, as their mouths gently moved together.
Alfred wrapped his body around the smaller nation’s body, feeling the warmth of his mouth, and the steady thump of his heart. In that moment, Alfred felt like he could make Toris feel better, just through force of will.
Toris thought that he already had.
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That's me.
This is fabulous. Thank you so much for writing.
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