[Part 14] Beloved (or, if Nobody Wins, Who Writes History?) - Lithuania/Belarus {2/?}
anonymous
April 20 2011, 11:58:36 UTC
When she wakes up, the first thing she says is “Ow.”
She can tell she is lying on a bed; a rather comfortable one, too. Slowly, she opens her eyes. This room is unfamiliar to her, and she tries to comprehend the patterns on the ceiling through her pounding headache. Suddenly, there is a face above hers, which is familiar, but both barely and painfully so. “Hello,” he says.
“Toris,” she declares, trying to push herself up through with her hands. She suddenly realises they are cuffed to the sides of the bed - how did she not feel that? She feels woozy, and struggling against her restraints only makes it worse, so she has to give in. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
He sighs, gently running his hand through her hair. She shudders. “I am the Duchy of Lithuania,” he says. “And I want to take care of you.”
“You are a pretentious kidnapping sack of shit,” she tells him. “And I want to see my brother and sister.”
“They're lost, Natalya,” he says. “The best you can do is make the most of now.”
She frowns and squirms against her restraints again, body brushing against the sheets. It feels odd, and she starts to notice something.
“...Hey... I'm naked, aren't I? ...You bastard, what did you do-”
“I had to strip you to put you to bed; your clothes were designed for walking in the cold, not very comfortable,” he says, as if it were obvious. “I'm sorry, but I couldn't find any female nightclothes.”
Her head pounds and she tries to think through it, but she's caught on the fact that this freak has kidnapped her and now she is fucking handcuffed and naked in some bed of his, and oh god-
“I didn't do anything to you,” he says, rolling his eyes at the look of disgust on her face. She wants to punch his skull in, but she can't because she is handcuffed to the fucking bed. “I'm not the type, Natalya, don't worry. You're safe with me.”
She doesn't feel very safe, but when she thinks about it logically, she thinks he's probably telling the truth - if he had done something, she would probably be able to feel it. “You could have at least give me an old shirt or something,” she grumbles.
He sighs. “Maybe later. Now come on, I brought you food.” The restraints on her arms don't actually stop her from moving upward, when he slides an arm under her and pushes her up, much to her displeasure. “Ah!”
“What?” he asks, and she can't help but flush as the blanket falls away, revealing her breasts far too much. “Oh. Oh. Here.” He takes his coat off, blushing a little himself before covering her with it.
She will not thank him. “Alright then. But if you want me to eat, you'll have to undo these handcuffs.”
“And risk you escaping?” he asks.
“You're watching me in your bed, I have no idea where I am, and I'm stark naked; the chances of me actually making it out are low...”
“I'll feed you myself,” he says, as if she had never spoken. She glares.
“Do you want to die?”
He laughs. “You're cute when you're angry,” he says, dipping a spoon into a bowl of soup and raising it to her lips.
Reluctantly, she takes the soup into her mouth.
Long enough to spit it back out at him.
*
“What time is it? And you haven't made big brother's breakfast yet?!” she yells, pushing past that quivering wreck of a boy to get at the food. ,i>Oh god, please don't let big brother be unhappy with me...
“No, actually, Miss Belarus,” says the one with the glasses - Estonia? “We finished making his breakfast quite awhile ago, actually, and were now making our own. We're allowed to do that, right?”
She sighs. “Alright then. I suppose I will make my own food as well,” she says.
“Um, Belarus?” comes Lithuania's voice, almost innocent. “I think I've made a bit too much dough, if you would like to...?”
Her stomach churns. She knows the taste of Lithuanian food.
“I'd rather make my own, thank you very much.” It's something of a lie - she's completely lost her appetite.
She can tell she is lying on a bed; a rather comfortable one, too. Slowly, she opens her eyes. This room is unfamiliar to her, and she tries to comprehend the patterns on the ceiling through her pounding headache. Suddenly, there is a face above hers, which is familiar, but both barely and painfully so. “Hello,” he says.
“Toris,” she declares, trying to push herself up through with her hands. She suddenly realises they are cuffed to the sides of the bed - how did she not feel that? She feels woozy, and struggling against her restraints only makes it worse, so she has to give in. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
He sighs, gently running his hand through her hair. She shudders. “I am the Duchy of Lithuania,” he says. “And I want to take care of you.”
“You are a pretentious kidnapping sack of shit,” she tells him. “And I want to see my brother and sister.”
“They're lost, Natalya,” he says. “The best you can do is make the most of now.”
She frowns and squirms against her restraints again, body brushing against the sheets. It feels odd, and she starts to notice something.
“...Hey... I'm naked, aren't I? ...You bastard, what did you do-”
“I had to strip you to put you to bed; your clothes were designed for walking in the cold, not very comfortable,” he says, as if it were obvious. “I'm sorry, but I couldn't find any female nightclothes.”
Her head pounds and she tries to think through it, but she's caught on the fact that this freak has kidnapped her and now she is fucking handcuffed and naked in some bed of his, and oh god-
“I didn't do anything to you,” he says, rolling his eyes at the look of disgust on her face. She wants to punch his skull in, but she can't because she is handcuffed to the fucking bed. “I'm not the type, Natalya, don't worry. You're safe with me.”
She doesn't feel very safe, but when she thinks about it logically, she thinks he's probably telling the truth - if he had done something, she would probably be able to feel it. “You could have at least give me an old shirt or something,” she grumbles.
He sighs. “Maybe later. Now come on, I brought you food.” The restraints on her arms don't actually stop her from moving upward, when he slides an arm under her and pushes her up, much to her displeasure. “Ah!”
“What?” he asks, and she can't help but flush as the blanket falls away, revealing her breasts far too much. “Oh. Oh. Here.” He takes his coat off, blushing a little himself before covering her with it.
She will not thank him. “Alright then. But if you want me to eat, you'll have to undo these handcuffs.”
“And risk you escaping?” he asks.
“You're watching me in your bed, I have no idea where I am, and I'm stark naked; the chances of me actually making it out are low...”
“I'll feed you myself,” he says, as if she had never spoken. She glares.
“Do you want to die?”
He laughs. “You're cute when you're angry,” he says, dipping a spoon into a bowl of soup and raising it to her lips.
Reluctantly, she takes the soup into her mouth.
Long enough to spit it back out at him.
*
“What time is it? And you haven't made big brother's breakfast yet?!” she yells, pushing past that quivering wreck of a boy to get at the food. ,i>Oh god, please don't let big brother be unhappy with me...
“No, actually, Miss Belarus,” says the one with the glasses - Estonia? “We finished making his breakfast quite awhile ago, actually, and were now making our own. We're allowed to do that, right?”
She sighs. “Alright then. I suppose I will make my own food as well,” she says.
“Um, Belarus?” comes Lithuania's voice, almost innocent. “I think I've made a bit too much dough, if you would like to...?”
Her stomach churns. She knows the taste of Lithuanian food.
“I'd rather make my own, thank you very much.” It's something of a lie - she's completely lost her appetite.
Reply
I want more of this beautiful creation. PLEASE CONTINUE.
Reply
Leave a comment