Re: Breaking fences (2)
anonymous
January 27 2009, 09:04:27 UTC
Several seconds later, he found himself on his back, looking into the ceiling and China’s nonchalant forehead. Yao had released his ponytail, he realized, because he could not see China’s eyes behind the cascade of dark hair. A moment later, he felt his belt snap loose.
“Wait, wait,” Ivan bucked his legs, to which China dug a knee into his upper thigh. “Since when -” China had his hands above his head, and his belt around his hands - “were you on top?”
“Since I said so,” Yao snarled, “A little role reversion might give you some extra perspective. Now quiet, unless you want me to gag you with one of those” - nodding to where Ivan knew the flag boxes were piled - “Alfred might be offended, but since it’s you, I’m sure he’d be happy that I taught you a lesson.”
Ivan became cynically silent, and perhaps a little intimidated. China opened his coat, and proceeded to disrobe him of his sweaters and trousers. Underneath, Ivan’s pale skin always struck him with the divine aesthetic joy of an unexpected find. Their lovemaking had always impressed upon China the contrast between the enormous girth of Russia’s public image, and the translucent, practical femininity of his naked self. Ivan’s massive coat and many layers had precious little to betray. He was a child, really. A terribly old and wounded child, like China himself.
Once he had asked Russia, why do you wear so much? It’s not the cold, for sure. Canada gets by on far lighter clothing, doesn’t he? And Russia said, transparently confused by the question, Because it’s heavy. And because nobody can see. Why else?
When China had Ivan naked but for the shirts and coat laid open beneath them, Russia made a final effort at complaint, “But you always let me top…”
“That -” Yao told him, before his lips pursed along Ivan’s semi-erect member, “was philanthropy,” and Ivan was unable to suppress a keening moan at Yao’s mouth, suddenly enveloping him, soft, wet, warm, hot, and working around the excited shaft. Yao shifted, and Ivan felt two fingers at his entrance, then within, while China sucked with sudden intensity, to distract him from the new pain, he realized through the haze of surprise and pleasure. In another moment, he heard China’s impatient breathing simultaneous to his own gasp of dissatisfaction at the other’s mouth leaving his pampered member. China moved up, such that Ivan’s shoulders were swathed with the shower of Yao’s hair, and a few breaths later, China had pressed in, hard and aggressive.
Ivan whimpered, arching his toes at the gratifying throb. Yao read his need in his face, and growling, set a sharp and fast pace of thrusting into the Russian’s pliant body. Ivan was staring into him, unconsciously curling his legs against the sides of China’s body, while Yao rocked both of them aggressively to the rhythm of his own frustration and pleasure. Their loud breathing filled the room, China’s overwhelming Ivan’s until he recognized that the latter’s moans had progressed to something akin to grunts of pain. The violet eyes had closed, and China craved them.
Re: Breaking fences (3)
anonymous
January 27 2009, 09:05:40 UTC
Ivan opened his eyes when Yao became gentle. China had slowed his thrusts almost to an imperceptible swing, and the rush of his breathing was dangerously close to Russia’s nipple. Ivan found himself unswervingly looking into China’s hair, China’s black, black hair.
“China,” he said, “China, please touch me. Why won’t you touch me?”
And China’s mouth fell on Ivan’s left nipple, tickling the tip with the tip of his tongue, while Russia pressed himself upward into the moist warmth. Soon that beautiful mouth was moving across Ivan’s chest, infecting him with pleasure. After a while, Russia realized that his face, too, was wet with tears, and that between their gasps and the sounds of skin-on-skin, there mingled his own “please, please,” and China’s softer, “yes, Ivan, yes.” And China’s hand was mapping his skin, across the side of his neck, in the crook of his shoulder, over his ribs, his sternum, his heart, tracing scars that he didn’t show. Of course, Ivan thought, China would know where his pains would be. He too, after all, was covered with them. And that, of course, explained Yao’s hands, explained his tears, explained this room, explained them. And he couldn’t stop but said,
“China. China, why can’t I undress you?”
And the belt was gone from his wrists. All he had to do, he thought, was ask sincerely. Yao allowed him to pull his shirt from his body while they remained connected where it mattered most, and Russia admired him from below, touching his skin, across the side of his neck, in the crook of his shoulder, over his ribs, his sternum, his heart, and their touches suddenly became more frenzied as they both neared their climax. China’s forehead was against his chest, where he had pulled him by a lover’s grasp in that mad, silken hair, and China’s hand was everywhere on his erection, pulling, coaxing, loving, and they both cried out their release.
They lay together sometime, while China dried Ivan’s residual tears by a quiet smile with traces of recovering sarcasm. “That wasn’t bad, was it?” Yao asked, although Ivan suspected it was less and more than a question. He looked to China, and the latter, with catlike quickness, was straddling him once more, his hands around Ivan’s face, his thumbs at the corners of his eyes, where the last tears were pooled. China pointed to his own heart, and to Russia. “This is yours,” he said. And pointed to Russia’s heart, and to himself. “And this, you remember, will always be mine.”
Re: Breaking fences (3)
anonymous
January 29 2009, 17:43:45 UTC
FFFFFFFFFFFFFF! Can't believe I didn't see this before! Writer-anon please remember to add your fills to the masterlist! (I've gone ahead and done it for you this time, XD)
second-rate and exceedingly economical, the way the westerners liked them
Ha loved that line. Loved all of it actually. China topping = ♥ UNF.
Re: Breaking fences (3)
anonymous
April 23 2009, 11:16:35 UTC
Hey there anon, have my babiez?
I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE this fic, its so well written! It has a mix of sexy, cute and funny in one making it a instant win. Please write more China/Russia, theyre so damn HOT! Good job anon!
“Wait, wait,” Ivan bucked his legs, to which China dug a knee into his upper thigh. “Since when -” China had his hands above his head, and his belt around his hands - “were you on top?”
“Since I said so,” Yao snarled, “A little role reversion might give you some extra perspective. Now quiet, unless you want me to gag you with one of those” - nodding to where Ivan knew the flag boxes were piled - “Alfred might be offended, but since it’s you, I’m sure he’d be happy that I taught you a lesson.”
Ivan became cynically silent, and perhaps a little intimidated. China opened his coat, and proceeded to disrobe him of his sweaters and trousers. Underneath, Ivan’s pale skin always struck him with the divine aesthetic joy of an unexpected find. Their lovemaking had always impressed upon China the contrast between the enormous girth of Russia’s public image, and the translucent, practical femininity of his naked self. Ivan’s massive coat and many layers had precious little to betray. He was a child, really. A terribly old and wounded child, like China himself.
Once he had asked Russia, why do you wear so much? It’s not the cold, for sure. Canada gets by on far lighter clothing, doesn’t he? And Russia said, transparently confused by the question, Because it’s heavy. And because nobody can see. Why else?
When China had Ivan naked but for the shirts and coat laid open beneath them, Russia made a final effort at complaint, “But you always let me top…”
“That -” Yao told him, before his lips pursed along Ivan’s semi-erect member, “was philanthropy,” and Ivan was unable to suppress a keening moan at Yao’s mouth, suddenly enveloping him, soft, wet, warm, hot, and working around the excited shaft. Yao shifted, and Ivan felt two fingers at his entrance, then within, while China sucked with sudden intensity, to distract him from the new pain, he realized through the haze of surprise and pleasure. In another moment, he heard China’s impatient breathing simultaneous to his own gasp of dissatisfaction at the other’s mouth leaving his pampered member. China moved up, such that Ivan’s shoulders were swathed with the shower of Yao’s hair, and a few breaths later, China had pressed in, hard and aggressive.
Ivan whimpered, arching his toes at the gratifying throb. Yao read his need in his face, and growling, set a sharp and fast pace of thrusting into the Russian’s pliant body. Ivan was staring into him, unconsciously curling his legs against the sides of China’s body, while Yao rocked both of them aggressively to the rhythm of his own frustration and pleasure. Their loud breathing filled the room, China’s overwhelming Ivan’s until he recognized that the latter’s moans had progressed to something akin to grunts of pain. The violet eyes had closed, and China craved them.
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“China,” he said, “China, please touch me. Why won’t you touch me?”
And China’s mouth fell on Ivan’s left nipple, tickling the tip with the tip of his tongue, while Russia pressed himself upward into the moist warmth. Soon that beautiful mouth was moving across Ivan’s chest, infecting him with pleasure. After a while, Russia realized that his face, too, was wet with tears, and that between their gasps and the sounds of skin-on-skin, there mingled his own “please, please,” and China’s softer, “yes, Ivan, yes.” And China’s hand was mapping his skin, across the side of his neck, in the crook of his shoulder, over his ribs, his sternum, his heart, tracing scars that he didn’t show. Of course, Ivan thought, China would know where his pains would be. He too, after all, was covered with them. And that, of course, explained Yao’s hands, explained his tears, explained this room, explained them. And he couldn’t stop but said,
“China. China, why can’t I undress you?”
And the belt was gone from his wrists. All he had to do, he thought, was ask sincerely. Yao allowed him to pull his shirt from his body while they remained connected where it mattered most, and Russia admired him from below, touching his skin, across the side of his neck, in the crook of his shoulder, over his ribs, his sternum, his heart, and their touches suddenly became more frenzied as they both neared their climax. China’s forehead was against his chest, where he had pulled him by a lover’s grasp in that mad, silken hair, and China’s hand was everywhere on his erection, pulling, coaxing, loving, and they both cried out their release.
They lay together sometime, while China dried Ivan’s residual tears by a quiet smile with traces of recovering sarcasm. “That wasn’t bad, was it?” Yao asked, although Ivan suspected it was less and more than a question. He looked to China, and the latter, with catlike quickness, was straddling him once more, his hands around Ivan’s face, his thumbs at the corners of his eyes, where the last tears were pooled. China pointed to his own heart, and to Russia. “This is yours,” he said. And pointed to Russia’s heart, and to himself. “And this, you remember, will always be mine.”
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And the ending. Oh my god. The ending~~ *massive love*
You anon, deserve many, many internets for this.
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second-rate and exceedingly economical, the way the westerners liked them
Ha loved that line. Loved all of it actually. China topping = ♥ UNF.
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Love the ending. Seriously. Xx
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...L-LOL. :D
This fic is amazing, author!anon! ^^
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ah, so brittle and painful and perfect, and the bit about the clothes broke my heart. Russia's history IS so messy and difficult, and just...*flails*
also, cheep American flags used as a gag = WIN
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I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE this fic, its so well written! It has a mix of sexy, cute and funny in one making it a instant win. Please write more China/Russia, theyre so damn HOT! Good job anon!
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