Saying Goodbye (2/3)
anonymous
August 16 2010, 04:16:35 UTC
Lithuania knows, objectively, that revolution can bring a nation to as close to death as their kind gets, but seeing Russia so badly injured is still a shock.
"You are leaving now?" Russia asks. Some of the blood dried on his lips cracks with the motion of speaking, and a new bead of bright blood forms, grows plump, and rolls down Russia's chin.
He glances at the door behind him. The last of his possessions are in a suitcase just outside the door. He could leave now.
He shakes his head. "Soon. But not yet."
He bends over Russia, pushing his arms around his back, and eases him to his feet. Russia is weak, but Lithuania is still grateful that he isn't resisting. Russia's arm heavy across his back, he leads him into the bathroom and begins filling the large tub, the water as hot as it goes.
Russia stands there dumbly while Lithuania undresses him. When Lithuania grasps his scarf, he catches his hand, makes a sound of protest.
"The blood will stain if you put it in hot water," Lithuania explains quietly, and unwinds the scarf from around Russia's neck.
When the bath is full, Russia sinks in eagerly, closing his eyes. Lithuania takes off his jacket and perches at the edge of the tub, dipping a cloth into the hot water to clean the blood off Russia's face. Russia winces as he eases the hairs, strand by strand, out of the wound on his forehead.
With the blood wiped away - the bathwater is now pinkish - Russia's appearance is less troubling, though he is still obviously unwell.
Russia opens his mouth as if to speak, closes it again. The cut on his lip breaks open once more and another drop of blood appears.
Lithuania moves to wipe it away with the cloth but his lips get there first.
He kisses Russia desperately, madly, though it is certainly not lust that fuels him. Russia kisses back with another kind of desperation that comes when it's too late to be saved.
Lithuania's shirtsleeves are now sopping wet from embracing Russia while he's in the bath. He pulls away only long enough to strip off his clothing before joining Russia in the bath. He doesn't even notice as water spills over the edges of the tub.
Russia's lip is bleeding worse now, so he laps up the blood with a quick stroke of his tongue before he buries it in Russia's mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Lithuania shifts against Russia, pushing his legs around Russia's hips. Russia pushes his hips back against Lithuania, brushing against Lithuania's cock.
Lithuania meets his eyes. It's not resistance he finds there, but assent.
He returns Russia's motion, pushing his erection against Russia's body, feels Russia's cock growing against his. They continue their agonizing frottage, until finally, reluctantly, Lithuania stands, legs shaking from tension, and moves to a shelf on the wall. He is careless as he shoves things aside before finding a bottle of mineral oil, which he carries back to the bath.
Saying Goodbye (3/3)
anonymous
August 16 2010, 04:17:12 UTC
He offers a hand out to Russia, helping him rise to his knees in the tub. Lithuania cups his hand and pours oil into it, and he keeps his hand closed tight as he reenters the bath, kneeling behind Russia. His fingers find the cleft of Russia's ass, and he slicks the oil around before finally pushing a fingertip in.
Russia whimpers, but not in protest. He leans forward, his hands on the rim of the tub and pushes himself back onto Lithuania's fingers.
Once his finger has passed the tight ring of muscle he slips it around the hollow inside, and Russia lets out a throaty breath.
He pushes a second finger in, and with both moves deeper.
Russia jerks abruptly, and Lithuania pulls back a moment, pressing a kiss to the small of Russia's back before thrusting his fingers in again.
By the time Lithuania withdraws his hand, Russia is quivering, making small, desperate sounds. "Turn around," Lithuania instructs.
When he does, Lithuania sees that Russia's cheeks are wet with tears. He kisses away the salty trails they've left.
He finds the bottle again, and drizzles mineral oil over his cock. Planting his hands on Russia's hips, he guides Russia down on to him.
He keeps his eyes open, on Russia's face as he thrusts. Russia does the same. There is a strange intensity to it, and they're nearly silent, just wordless gasps and soft, breathy moans. The sound of the water slapping the sides of the tub is louder.
Tears are still rolling down Russia's cheeks, and blood trickles from his split lip.
Russia comes with a half-word and Lithuania pumps harder into him as he does, and comes shortly after.
The floor of the bathroom is a mess of splashed, bloody bathwater and spilled mineral oil. Their discarded clothing is sopping wet.
Lithuania retrieves dry towels from the shelf, drying himself quickly before moving to help Russia dry himself. The trembling in Russia's arms and legs is obvious as Lithuania moves the towel over him.
He leads Russia back into the bedchamber and onto the bed, drawing back the heavy quilts. Russia obediently slips beneath the covers, and Lithuania pulls them back up.
He retrieves his suitcase from outside the door and dresses in clean clothing, aware of Russia's eyes on him.
He sets the suitcase by the door before returning to Russia's bedside. Russia is quiet, but the look in his eyes is heartbreaking, a final, unvoiced plea.
Lithuania swallows, and leans down to press a kiss to Russia's cheek.
It is a long kiss but once he finally breaks the contact he moves quickly for the door, as if he could escape that something almost like affection welling inside of him.
In Lithuanian he says, "Goodbye, Russia." Not until he has left the room and closed the door does he say it in Russian, too.
"You are leaving now?" Russia asks. Some of the blood dried on his lips cracks with the motion of speaking, and a new bead of bright blood forms, grows plump, and rolls down Russia's chin.
He glances at the door behind him. The last of his possessions are in a suitcase just outside the door. He could leave now.
He shakes his head. "Soon. But not yet."
He bends over Russia, pushing his arms around his back, and eases him to his feet. Russia is weak, but Lithuania is still grateful that he isn't resisting. Russia's arm heavy across his back, he leads him into the bathroom and begins filling the large tub, the water as hot as it goes.
Russia stands there dumbly while Lithuania undresses him. When Lithuania grasps his scarf, he catches his hand, makes a sound of protest.
"The blood will stain if you put it in hot water," Lithuania explains quietly, and unwinds the scarf from around Russia's neck.
When the bath is full, Russia sinks in eagerly, closing his eyes. Lithuania takes off his jacket and perches at the edge of the tub, dipping a cloth into the hot water to clean the blood off Russia's face. Russia winces as he eases the hairs, strand by strand, out of the wound on his forehead.
With the blood wiped away - the bathwater is now pinkish - Russia's appearance is less troubling, though he is still obviously unwell.
Russia opens his mouth as if to speak, closes it again. The cut on his lip breaks open once more and another drop of blood appears.
Lithuania moves to wipe it away with the cloth but his lips get there first.
He kisses Russia desperately, madly, though it is certainly not lust that fuels him. Russia kisses back with another kind of desperation that comes when it's too late to be saved.
Lithuania's shirtsleeves are now sopping wet from embracing Russia while he's in the bath. He pulls away only long enough to strip off his clothing before joining Russia in the bath. He doesn't even notice as water spills over the edges of the tub.
Russia's lip is bleeding worse now, so he laps up the blood with a quick stroke of his tongue before he buries it in Russia's mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Lithuania shifts against Russia, pushing his legs around Russia's hips. Russia pushes his hips back against Lithuania, brushing against Lithuania's cock.
Lithuania meets his eyes. It's not resistance he finds there, but assent.
He returns Russia's motion, pushing his erection against Russia's body, feels Russia's cock growing against his. They continue their agonizing frottage, until finally, reluctantly, Lithuania stands, legs shaking from tension, and moves to a shelf on the wall. He is careless as he shoves things aside before finding a bottle of mineral oil, which he carries back to the bath.
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Russia whimpers, but not in protest. He leans forward, his hands on the rim of the tub and pushes himself back onto Lithuania's fingers.
Once his finger has passed the tight ring of muscle he slips it around the hollow inside, and Russia lets out a throaty breath.
He pushes a second finger in, and with both moves deeper.
Russia jerks abruptly, and Lithuania pulls back a moment, pressing a kiss to the small of Russia's back before thrusting his fingers in again.
By the time Lithuania withdraws his hand, Russia is quivering, making small, desperate sounds. "Turn around," Lithuania instructs.
When he does, Lithuania sees that Russia's cheeks are wet with tears. He kisses away the salty trails they've left.
He finds the bottle again, and drizzles mineral oil over his cock. Planting his hands on Russia's hips, he guides Russia down on to him.
He keeps his eyes open, on Russia's face as he thrusts. Russia does the same. There is a strange intensity to it, and they're nearly silent, just wordless gasps and soft, breathy moans. The sound of the water slapping the sides of the tub is louder.
Tears are still rolling down Russia's cheeks, and blood trickles from his split lip.
Russia comes with a half-word and Lithuania pumps harder into him as he does, and comes shortly after.
The floor of the bathroom is a mess of splashed, bloody bathwater and spilled mineral oil. Their discarded clothing is sopping wet.
Lithuania retrieves dry towels from the shelf, drying himself quickly before moving to help Russia dry himself. The trembling in Russia's arms and legs is obvious as Lithuania moves the towel over him.
He leads Russia back into the bedchamber and onto the bed, drawing back the heavy quilts. Russia obediently slips beneath the covers, and Lithuania pulls them back up.
He retrieves his suitcase from outside the door and dresses in clean clothing, aware of Russia's eyes on him.
He sets the suitcase by the door before returning to Russia's bedside. Russia is quiet, but the look in his eyes is heartbreaking, a final, unvoiced plea.
Lithuania swallows, and leans down to press a kiss to Russia's cheek.
It is a long kiss but once he finally breaks the contact he moves quickly for the door, as if he could escape that something almost like affection welling inside of him.
In Lithuanian he says, "Goodbye, Russia." Not until he has left the room and closed the door does he say it in Russian, too.
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