Burning Bright
anonymous
March 11 2010, 06:12:33 UTC
I second your rant! Also, I decided to fill the request.
I'm not too used to writing no-holds-barred smut but I hope it's passable ^_^
~~~
Tears were streaming down Belarus' cheeks and it shamed her that America wiped them away. His fingers burned her chilled cheeks as they brushed from her jaw, then rose to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She half-turned away, lowering her eyes to the snow and away from America. "Leave me alone," it was a weak snarl.
"Hey," he said gently, patiently as he raised a hand to her shoulder. It was a testament to how tired she was that she didn't pull away. "We'll fix this. All of us. I mean, we're the motherfucking Allies."
"There's no fixing what's broken." And all the world was broken. Europe was engulfed in war once again, her sister had been forced to work for Germany, and her brother was feared lost at Leningrad (though Stalin denied it...she was terrified she would never see him again). None of the other Allies had heard from him in months...and Belarus thought of the time he'd been a child and fallen through the ice. They hadn't found him until spring. With the tedious state of affairs, it was not too hard to believe that Russia could be killed.
Belarus looked up, perhaps wanting to see something genuine that didn't involve duty and sacrifice. She'd seen too many martyred men and women buried with their service and nothing else. Sometimes, it felt like the only emotions she knew anymore were loss and suffering. A part of her wanted desperately to see something kind for the sake of kindness.
He smiled, and for the first time she noticed how snowflakes were collecting on his hair, stark against his golden tresses. America was confident; he was fresh and ready to aid them against Germany. More importantly, he was honest. The self-righteousness that she otherwise would have associated with naivety or manipulation now seemed...like a light, like the sun.
"You mean that...don't you?" They were the first words of acceptance she'd offered during the exchange.
America nodded. "Of course I do!" He laughed and spread his arms wide in some grandiose gesture. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it!"
"Beliefs can be wrong," Belarus said quietly, wanting to believe his words. "I believe I will lose everything that has ever mattered to me in this war. Tell me why your beliefs should mean anything to me?"
She expected his expression to darken. Instead, his eyes softened but carefully avoided pity. They were like pools of resolve. "Because I'd rather go in swinging and thinking I'll win than put all that work into a losing battle."
Something hard formed in her throat, and she needed to look away again. Belarus hated this, hated the fact that she could bury dozens of her children at a time but this kindness made her choke.
"Belarus..." the hand was on her shoulder again. She didn't flinch away. "I'm for real. I won't abandon you, or Russia, or anybody else who's fighting the Axis. And we'll win. Is there anything I can do to prove it to you?"
His hand moved to her cheek again, urging her to look at his face so she could see the assurance that he would, in fact, do anything.
Belarus stayed silent for a long time, let the wind toss their hair and catch their coats as they stood together, ankle deep in falling snow. "Yes." She stated simply. There was something he could do. "You can help me...feel." She wanted some of his optimism, an escape from her own sense that nothing would ever be right again.
Before he could stammer out a reply, Belarus was pressing her mouth against his. For a moment, she felt the shock in his shaking body then the relenting heat that settled in the steadiness of his hands. He ran his hands down her back, trying to find the shape under her heavy service coat before finding the distinct rounding of her hips and pulling them closer. Belarus’ pulled her hand from the grip she had on his hair and traced her fingers down the line of his neck. She felt his heartrate in the pulsing jugular under her fingers- throbbing, alive- but her hand didn’t stop until she found the zipper of his jacket; she wanted to feel his heart and was hungry for the confirmation.
I'm not too used to writing no-holds-barred smut but I hope it's passable ^_^
~~~
Tears were streaming down Belarus' cheeks and it shamed her that America wiped them away. His fingers burned her chilled cheeks as they brushed from her jaw, then rose to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She half-turned away, lowering her eyes to the snow and away from America. "Leave me alone," it was a weak snarl.
"Hey," he said gently, patiently as he raised a hand to her shoulder. It was a testament to how tired she was that she didn't pull away. "We'll fix this. All of us. I mean, we're the motherfucking Allies."
"There's no fixing what's broken." And all the world was broken. Europe was engulfed in war once again, her sister had been forced to work for Germany, and her brother was feared lost at Leningrad (though Stalin denied it...she was terrified she would never see him again). None of the other Allies had heard from him in months...and Belarus thought of the time he'd been a child and fallen through the ice. They hadn't found him until spring. With the tedious state of affairs, it was not too hard to believe that Russia could be killed.
Belarus looked up, perhaps wanting to see something genuine that didn't involve duty and sacrifice. She'd seen too many martyred men and women buried with their service and nothing else. Sometimes, it felt like the only emotions she knew anymore were loss and suffering. A part of her wanted desperately to see something kind for the sake of kindness.
He smiled, and for the first time she noticed how snowflakes were collecting on his hair, stark against his golden tresses. America was confident; he was fresh and ready to aid them against Germany. More importantly, he was honest. The self-righteousness that she otherwise would have associated with naivety or manipulation now seemed...like a light, like the sun.
"You mean that...don't you?" They were the first words of acceptance she'd offered during the exchange.
America nodded. "Of course I do!" He laughed and spread his arms wide in some grandiose gesture. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it!"
"Beliefs can be wrong," Belarus said quietly, wanting to believe his words. "I believe I will lose everything that has ever mattered to me in this war. Tell me why your beliefs should mean anything to me?"
She expected his expression to darken. Instead, his eyes softened but carefully avoided pity. They were like pools of resolve. "Because I'd rather go in swinging and thinking I'll win than put all that work into a losing battle."
Something hard formed in her throat, and she needed to look away again. Belarus hated this, hated the fact that she could bury dozens of her children at a time but this kindness made her choke.
"Belarus..." the hand was on her shoulder again. She didn't flinch away. "I'm for real. I won't abandon you, or Russia, or anybody else who's fighting the Axis. And we'll win. Is there anything I can do to prove it to you?"
His hand moved to her cheek again, urging her to look at his face so she could see the assurance that he would, in fact, do anything.
Belarus stayed silent for a long time, let the wind toss their hair and catch their coats as they stood together, ankle deep in falling snow. "Yes." She stated simply. There was something he could do. "You can help me...feel." She wanted some of his optimism, an escape from her own sense that nothing would ever be right again.
Before he could stammer out a reply, Belarus was pressing her mouth against his. For a moment, she felt the shock in his shaking body then the relenting heat that settled in the steadiness of his hands. He ran his hands down her back, trying to find the shape under her heavy service coat before finding the distinct rounding of her hips and pulling them closer. Belarus’ pulled her hand from the grip she had on his hair and traced her fingers down the line of his neck. She felt his heartrate in the pulsing jugular under her fingers- throbbing, alive- but her hand didn’t stop until she found the zipper of his jacket; she wanted to feel his heart and was hungry for the confirmation.
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