Lepidopterology [Soviet Union/America/Russia] 4/?
anonymous
December 9 2010, 16:57:43 UTC
Somehow they make it down the stairs. Russia seems to slowly gain strength, and he is walking on his own by the time they reach the living room. Soviet Union turns on the television, and immediately a soft stream of Russian issues forth. America is out of practice, and the sound is too low for him to follow the narrative anyway, but it’s almost certainly a news channel from the way Soviet Union’s eyes narrow. America has no idea what they’re saying about this, and frankly he doesn’t much care. What will happen will happen, and they are powerless to stop it. He’s here because he knows Russia can’t handle this alone.
The new Russia steps casually around him and settles himself on the couch. America hadn’t noticed earlier, but he is wearing a suit. America has a feeling that it is the most expensive thing in this room. Briefly the corners of Russia’s mouth tug up, and America tries not to shiver. Russia’s razor smile matches the perfect knot of his tie.
Soviet Union finally turns away from the television with a frustrated noise and takes in the two of them, his gaze settling on America. Russia turns to look at him too, and America feels the slight prickling of sweat on his arms. The room suddenly feels much smaller.
“I don’t think it will be long,” Soviet Union says quietly. America understands him perfectly. ‘We should start now,’ he is saying. Reflexively America’s eyes dart to the picture of Stalin, and the feeling of being watched intensifies.
Russia leaves his seat and America wills his muscles not to tense. He smiles as he passes America, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “This is bothering you,” he observes, striding to the wall and plucking the portrait off. “It’s bothering me, too.”
“Don’t,” Soviet Union says in a dangerous tone. Russia pauses, and for a moment America thinks he will acquiesce, replace the portrait on its hook - and then he neatly snaps it in half, frame and all. The temperature in the room drops several degrees.
Russia tosses what’s left of the picture carelessly to the side, and he and Soviet Union stare each other down for a few tense moments. Abruptly Soviet Union steps forward, reaching into his coat, and pulls out a handgun. With a click he thumbs off the safety.
“Start undressing,” he says softly, pressing the muzzle to America’s temple. America gulps down his uncertainty and does as he says, while above him their silent battle continues.
notes notes notes
anonymous
December 9 2010, 17:12:02 UTC
Hmm. This section seemed longer in Word. Anyway, sorry about the wait guys! I'm busy getting ready for finals.
I probably should have done these notes after the last section - I think Soviet Union works as a name, but Russian Federation is a little bulky, so please know that the "Russia" here is democratic Russia. The brief flashback from last section refers to the allied invasion of Russia after the Revolution; you can read more here. I thought it was interesting.
Re: notes notes notes
anonymous
December 10 2010, 07:40:40 UTC
...ouch whatever is about to happen itll probably hurt for Alfred. still hopping for some backside DP because those two are big and...drools Are they gonna have some epic hate sex with Alfred there in the middle because they can't stand to have hate sex with eachother or somethin? ooh gun kink!<3
Im in love. Poor uncertain America. I vote for SU living in Russia's basement..why? Well I hate character deaths and werent they good friends back in the day or was that a different Russia who was America's friend during the civil war?
Re: notes notes notes (not op)
anonymous
December 26 2010, 08:36:47 UTC
Oh my. I read this in one go and I have to say I'm breathless. Really, I'm sitting here with these little shuddering breaths with the tension you've built up here. They're not fighting, not really (Well, maybe SU and RF are, a bit), but everything everyone is feeling is all pent up in this cold little house as they try to act how they know they should, accepting the inevitable and moving forward with class, but SO MANY EMOTIONS EVERYWHERE GAH.
That one paragraph about how America wanted to take Russia and lay him down and take care of him was oddly incredibly romantic. It was romantic in the way that fit America and Russia and what's real.
Yay for including the invasion of Russia! Sorta, since it was...yeah...to do. But, uh, for acknowledging it?
Oh, my babbling, I hope you understand it. And best of luck with your studies so you can quickly get them over with to come back to this.
Lepidopterology [Soviet Union/America/Russia] 5/?
anonymous
December 31 2010, 17:16:45 UTC
Late, but happy birthday Russia, and happy new year to all of you! Thank you for all your kind comments! In other news: America is a kinky bastard. I think there'll be actual sex in the next part.
America hurriedly shrugs off his coat and gently swings it onto the arm of the couch. He doesn’t think Soviet Union will shoot him, but it’s not completely out of the question, so he tries not to make any sudden movements. He’s only gotten as far as unbuttoning his shirt when he feels the gun jab hard at the side of his head. The cool metal of the muzzle guides him slowly down, until America is kneeling. He doesn’t miss the quick, mocking look Soviet Union shoots over his head at Russia.
America can see where this is going. He wets his lips and inches in a little. Soviet Union watches him intently, the slightest hint of a smirk curling up on his mouth.
“My boots,” he says, in the same offhand tone America has heard him use when giving orders to Lithuania, “I haven’t had time to polish them recently, and they are looking so dirty, don’t you think?”
Soviet Union’s boots are spotless, but America understands him. He nods obediently even as his face scrunches up in distaste. Soviet Union pulls the gun away from his head - although America notices he doesn’t lower it an inch - and pushes America’s head down with his other hand.
“Watch it,” America mutters under his breath, but he braces himself on his elbows and traces the curve of Russia’s boot with his nose, down to the toe. It has a thick smell; dirt, leather, and polish. America’s tongue darts out to flick experimentally at the toe. He winces. It tastes as nasty as he’d expected, although thankfully it seems Soviet Union really hasn’t polished them recently.
America’s tongue cuts wide swathes across the leather, leaving a shiny trail of saliva in its wake. It gets easier as he goes, and slowly the bitter taste of the polish fades. The leather is rich in his mouth, and he can almost ignore the specks of dust and dirt that he laps up along with it. He loses himself in the rhythm of the motion, switching to the other boot when he reaches the top of the first. He nips and suckles at the material, mostly for Soviet Union’s benefit, and he can hear how the other nation’s breath picks up a bit.
America remembers the last time they did this. It was in 1972, and America hated and loved every second he spent with his face pressed against Russia’s shoes. He was on his knees then, too, naked and achingly hard on the floor of a hotel room in Chicago. Russia’s scarf had chafed against his wrists, tied tightly behind his back. Russia had made some comment that America can’t recall now, something smug and gloating. He does remember spitting at Russia in retaliation, and the punishment he’d received for it: Russia had drawn his foot back and kicked America clean in the face. There had been a sick crunch as his nose broke; Texas went flying. America had fallen heavily onto his back, licked at the blood pouring out of his nose, and laughed until his shoulders shook.
Re: Lepidopterology [Soviet Union/America/Russia] 5/?
anonymous
January 3 2011, 08:12:06 UTC
Yes, America is a kinky bastard, and oh do we love him for it. Actual sex? Oh boy. I would say not to rush into things just to get to the 'good part', because everything is so good going as it is, but I have a feeling you will give everything the time and attention it deserves. Just judging by how wonderful this is so far. Just curiosity, did you have a particular 1972 historical event in mind there?
I don't think we have to worry about me rushing, anon, if my update speed is any indication... *fails*
With 1972 I was thinking generally of the Vietnam war. That was right before the Paris Peace Accords were signed, when America was trying to withdraw his troops, and I imagine he would have been high-strung from the presidential election to begin with.
Re: Lepidopterology [Soviet Union/America/Russia] 5/?
anonymous
January 3 2011, 19:25:56 UTC
Wow, this was pretty hot. I'm mostly wondering if this has happened before, like when Russia became the Soviet Union. Is the transition like easier if they sleep with someone, and that's why they're doing this? And does the same thing happen to other countries when they undergo revolutions or lose large parts of themselves?
Well, as hot as that was, America seemed oddly docile. I know that he has a gun pointed at him, but that probably wouldn't kill a nation, right? I just feel like he should at least be backtalking or something. It seems weird that he's letting the Soviet Union have so much control wtihout any apparent protest or reason.
I'm sure it's happened with other nations before, but it doesn't always happen exactly like this. Having another nation around for reassurance or just company makes the transition easier. I don't think there is necessarily a sexual component to it though - if Russia and America hadn't already been involved sexually I don't think the tension between SU and RF would be taking the form it is here. Anon earlier said something; "Are they gonna have some epic hate sex with Alfred there in the middle because they can't stand to have hate sex with each other or something?" -- not exactly this, but pretty close. I don't want to give the whole thing away though.
My view here is that America isn't protesting because he knew what he was getting into when he agreed to this arrangement. He may not be thrilled with everything they're going to be doing, but he agreed to stay and I think he's enjoying himself a bit. Funny you should mention the gun, actually. I hope to make this more clear as the story progresses, but a lot of what they're doing/saying to America is actually directed at each other. From Soviet Union's point of the view, having the gun out is a sign not to America, but to Russia.
Re: Authornon
anonymous
January 4 2011, 17:48:40 UTC
Okay, that makes more sense to me; especially the part about their actions being directed towards each other because of the Stalin portrait. Thanks for replying!
Lepidopterology [Soviet Union/America/Russia] 6/?
anonymous
January 27 2011, 06:24:21 UTC
America’s shaken out of the memory by the soft sound of footsteps on the carpet. He turns to see Russia crossing the room, his hand slipping into his pocket. Soviet Union’s boot taps lightly under his chin, America watches Russia casually pull out a switchblade before he turns back to his task. The muscles in his back tighten involuntarily and his mouth becomes sloppy on Soviet Union’s shoe, strings of saliva dripping from his tongue.
Russia stops behind him. There is a soft shhk - America’s fingers grip the carpet - and the cool kiss of metal on the small of his back. He shivers despite himself. Abruptly the knife lifts and catches on his shirt. America winces as the seams of his sleeves press into his shoulders. There is a terrific ripping noise as the fabric of his shirt starts to give way, and America rams forward into Soviet Union’s boots from the force of it. His own saliva is already cool; it dries quickly where it’s smeared across his forehead. He stays that way, immobile but for his hand, which slides up to cup the toe of Soviet Union’s left shoe, while Russia rips through the rest of his shirt. It’s comforting, although he knows he shouldn’t trust Soviet Union. But better the devil that you know.
No sooner has the thought crossed his mind than Soviet Union’s fingers tangle in his hair and tug up, once, twice. America’s spine straightens reluctantly. The halves of the shirt slither off his arms and fall to the floor, and he is acutely conscious of how his pants cling to his hips. His tie, which for some reason Russia has left intact, hangs limply around his neck.
Apparently Soviet Union’s boots are clean enough now, because he doesn’t force America down to his feet again. America takes the opportunity to gather the pieces of his shirt and fling them out of the way. Soviet Union and Russia lock eyes again for a long moment above him. They’re both leaning down in order to reach him, and America thinks it might look funny if they weren’t so tall and broad-shouldered; as it is they loom over him.
Soviet Union’s hand abruptly tightens in his hair and forces his line of vision down again. He doesn’t have to wait long. The sound of Russia dropping to his knees is the only warning America has before he feels the bite of the knife on his back. It travels slowly up his spine, too light to break the skin, but enough to give him a warning. America holds very still. The knife inches agonizingly slowly up to the nape of his neck, where Russia turns it, slides it forward along his throat. America swallows against the flat of the blade, trying to ignore the charge that runs down to his cock.
He’s almost forgotten about Soviet Union, and he’s reminded very quickly why that’s dangerous when a thumb sweeps roughly over his lips. “Open,” Soviet Union orders him without preamble, and America inches his mouth open cautiously. The gun swings into sight again and presses against his lips. Fuck, America thinks solidly, and for a while it’s the only thought that sticks. The knife disappears from his throat as he takes in the gun, the metal freezing against his tongue. It’s only when the blade carves into his side that he notices it again. His teeth clack painfully against the gun, and from around the barrel he chokes out a tangled mess of a curse.
It’s hard to focus on both of them at once. America is acutely aware that there’s a Makarov PM in his mouth, probably loaded, with the safety off. At the same time, he can feel Russia continually skimming the switchblade over the rest of his body. It’s random and abrasive. The blade scrapes along his skin sometimes, others it cuts into him mercilessly. He has no idea if there’s any meaning to it; a pattern, words, or just whatever spot Russia feels like claiming. All the while he sucks and laps at the barrel of the gun, and Soviet Union’s hand keeps his head rigidly pointing forward. America takes in the military stiffness of Soviet Union’s uniform pants, the absolute stillness of his body. His own trembles.
The Makarov was a handgun used by the Soviet Union's military from 1951 to 1991.
Re: Lepidopterology [Soviet Union/America/Russia] 6/?
anonymous
January 27 2011, 06:56:31 UTC
Oh my... Gun play AND knife play??? You are spoiling us now, author!anon! I love how even though the two Russians haven't spoken much, I can still feel the intimidation and the pressure building! Can't wait for the next chapter!
The new Russia steps casually around him and settles himself on the couch. America hadn’t noticed earlier, but he is wearing a suit. America has a feeling that it is the most expensive thing in this room. Briefly the corners of Russia’s mouth tug up, and America tries not to shiver. Russia’s razor smile matches the perfect knot of his tie.
Soviet Union finally turns away from the television with a frustrated noise and takes in the two of them, his gaze settling on America. Russia turns to look at him too, and America feels the slight prickling of sweat on his arms. The room suddenly feels much smaller.
“I don’t think it will be long,” Soviet Union says quietly. America understands him perfectly. ‘We should start now,’ he is saying. Reflexively America’s eyes dart to the picture of Stalin, and the feeling of being watched intensifies.
Russia leaves his seat and America wills his muscles not to tense. He smiles as he passes America, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “This is bothering you,” he observes, striding to the wall and plucking the portrait off. “It’s bothering me, too.”
“Don’t,” Soviet Union says in a dangerous tone. Russia pauses, and for a moment America thinks he will acquiesce, replace the portrait on its hook - and then he neatly snaps it in half, frame and all. The temperature in the room drops several degrees.
Russia tosses what’s left of the picture carelessly to the side, and he and Soviet Union stare each other down for a few tense moments. Abruptly Soviet Union steps forward, reaching into his coat, and pulls out a handgun. With a click he thumbs off the safety.
“Start undressing,” he says softly, pressing the muzzle to America’s temple. America gulps down his uncertainty and does as he says, while above him their silent battle continues.
Reply
I probably should have done these notes after the last section - I think Soviet Union works as a name, but Russian Federation is a little bulky, so please know that the "Russia" here is democratic Russia. The brief flashback from last section refers to the allied invasion of Russia after the Revolution; you can read more here. I thought it was interesting.
Still hoping to hear back from OP!
*runs away to study forever*
Reply
Hopefully, since you're getting ready for finals, you will more time to write, right Author!Anon? And I hope you hear back from the OP soon!
Reply
Are they gonna have some epic hate sex with Alfred there in the middle because they can't stand to have hate sex with eachother or somethin? ooh gun kink!<3
Im in love. Poor uncertain America. I vote for SU living in Russia's basement..why? Well I hate character deaths and werent they good friends back in the day or was that a different Russia who was America's friend during the civil war?
Reply
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That one paragraph about how America wanted to take Russia and lay him down and take care of him was oddly incredibly romantic. It was romantic in the way that fit America and Russia and what's real.
Yay for including the invasion of Russia! Sorta, since it was...yeah...to do. But, uh, for acknowledging it?
Oh, my babbling, I hope you understand it. And best of luck with your studies so you can quickly get them over with to come back to this.
Reply
America hurriedly shrugs off his coat and gently swings it onto the arm of the couch. He doesn’t think Soviet Union will shoot him, but it’s not completely out of the question, so he tries not to make any sudden movements. He’s only gotten as far as unbuttoning his shirt when he feels the gun jab hard at the side of his head. The cool metal of the muzzle guides him slowly down, until America is kneeling. He doesn’t miss the quick, mocking look Soviet Union shoots over his head at Russia.
America can see where this is going. He wets his lips and inches in a little. Soviet Union watches him intently, the slightest hint of a smirk curling up on his mouth.
“My boots,” he says, in the same offhand tone America has heard him use when giving orders to Lithuania, “I haven’t had time to polish them recently, and they are looking so dirty, don’t you think?”
Soviet Union’s boots are spotless, but America understands him. He nods obediently even as his face scrunches up in distaste. Soviet Union pulls the gun away from his head - although America notices he doesn’t lower it an inch - and pushes America’s head down with his other hand.
“Watch it,” America mutters under his breath, but he braces himself on his elbows and traces the curve of Russia’s boot with his nose, down to the toe. It has a thick smell; dirt, leather, and polish. America’s tongue darts out to flick experimentally at the toe. He winces. It tastes as nasty as he’d expected, although thankfully it seems Soviet Union really hasn’t polished them recently.
America’s tongue cuts wide swathes across the leather, leaving a shiny trail of saliva in its wake. It gets easier as he goes, and slowly the bitter taste of the polish fades. The leather is rich in his mouth, and he can almost ignore the specks of dust and dirt that he laps up along with it. He loses himself in the rhythm of the motion, switching to the other boot when he reaches the top of the first. He nips and suckles at the material, mostly for Soviet Union’s benefit, and he can hear how the other nation’s breath picks up a bit.
America remembers the last time they did this. It was in 1972, and America hated and loved every second he spent with his face pressed against Russia’s shoes. He was on his knees then, too, naked and achingly hard on the floor of a hotel room in Chicago. Russia’s scarf had chafed against his wrists, tied tightly behind his back. Russia had made some comment that America can’t recall now, something smug and gloating. He does remember spitting at Russia in retaliation, and the punishment he’d received for it: Russia had drawn his foot back and kicked America clean in the face. There had been a sick crunch as his nose broke; Texas went flying. America had fallen heavily onto his back, licked at the blood pouring out of his nose, and laughed until his shoulders shook.
Reply
Actual sex? Oh boy. I would say not to rush into things just to get to the 'good part', because everything is so good going as it is, but I have a feeling you will give everything the time and attention it deserves. Just judging by how wonderful this is so far.
Just curiosity, did you have a particular 1972 historical event in mind there?
Reply
With 1972 I was thinking generally of the Vietnam war. That was right before the Paris Peace Accords were signed, when America was trying to withdraw his troops, and I imagine he would have been high-strung from the presidential election to begin with.
Reply
I'm mostly wondering if this has happened before, like when Russia became the Soviet Union. Is the transition like easier if they sleep with someone, and that's why they're doing this? And does the same thing happen to other countries when they undergo revolutions or lose large parts of themselves?
Well, as hot as that was, America seemed oddly docile. I know that he has a gun pointed at him, but that probably wouldn't kill a nation, right? I just feel like he should at least be backtalking or something. It seems weird that he's letting the Soviet Union have so much control wtihout any apparent protest or reason.
Reply
My view here is that America isn't protesting because he knew what he was getting into when he agreed to this arrangement. He may not be thrilled with everything they're going to be doing, but he agreed to stay and I think he's enjoying himself a bit. Funny you should mention the gun, actually. I hope to make this more clear as the story progresses, but a lot of what they're doing/saying to America is actually directed at each other. From Soviet Union's point of the view, having the gun out is a sign not to America, but to Russia.
Reply
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Russia stops behind him. There is a soft shhk - America’s fingers grip the carpet - and the cool kiss of metal on the small of his back. He shivers despite himself. Abruptly the knife lifts and catches on his shirt. America winces as the seams of his sleeves press into his shoulders. There is a terrific ripping noise as the fabric of his shirt starts to give way, and America rams forward into Soviet Union’s boots from the force of it. His own saliva is already cool; it dries quickly where it’s smeared across his forehead. He stays that way, immobile but for his hand, which slides up to cup the toe of Soviet Union’s left shoe, while Russia rips through the rest of his shirt. It’s comforting, although he knows he shouldn’t trust Soviet Union. But better the devil that you know.
No sooner has the thought crossed his mind than Soviet Union’s fingers tangle in his hair and tug up, once, twice. America’s spine straightens reluctantly. The halves of the shirt slither off his arms and fall to the floor, and he is acutely conscious of how his pants cling to his hips. His tie, which for some reason Russia has left intact, hangs limply around his neck.
Apparently Soviet Union’s boots are clean enough now, because he doesn’t force America down to his feet again. America takes the opportunity to gather the pieces of his shirt and fling them out of the way. Soviet Union and Russia lock eyes again for a long moment above him. They’re both leaning down in order to reach him, and America thinks it might look funny if they weren’t so tall and broad-shouldered; as it is they loom over him.
Soviet Union’s hand abruptly tightens in his hair and forces his line of vision down again. He doesn’t have to wait long. The sound of Russia dropping to his knees is the only warning America has before he feels the bite of the knife on his back. It travels slowly up his spine, too light to break the skin, but enough to give him a warning. America holds very still. The knife inches agonizingly slowly up to the nape of his neck, where Russia turns it, slides it forward along his throat. America swallows against the flat of the blade, trying to ignore the charge that runs down to his cock.
He’s almost forgotten about Soviet Union, and he’s reminded very quickly why that’s dangerous when a thumb sweeps roughly over his lips. “Open,” Soviet Union orders him without preamble, and America inches his mouth open cautiously. The gun swings into sight again and presses against his lips.
Fuck, America thinks solidly, and for a while it’s the only thought that sticks. The knife disappears from his throat as he takes in the gun, the metal freezing against his tongue. It’s only when the blade carves into his side that he notices it again. His teeth clack painfully against the gun, and from around the barrel he chokes out a tangled mess of a curse.
It’s hard to focus on both of them at once. America is acutely aware that there’s a Makarov PM in his mouth, probably loaded, with the safety off. At the same time, he can feel Russia continually skimming the switchblade over the rest of his body. It’s random and abrasive. The blade scrapes along his skin sometimes, others it cuts into him mercilessly. He has no idea if there’s any meaning to it; a pattern, words, or just whatever spot Russia feels like claiming. All the while he sucks and laps at the barrel of the gun, and Soviet Union’s hand keeps his head rigidly pointing forward. America takes in the military stiffness of Soviet Union’s uniform pants, the absolute stillness of his body. His own trembles.
The Makarov was a handgun used by the Soviet Union's military from 1951 to 1991.
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I love how even though the two Russians haven't spoken much, I can still feel the intimidation and the pressure building! Can't wait for the next chapter!
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