Red Fall: 18-20/25
Consciousness ebbed in cautiously, testing the mind’s waters for safety; eyes opened to an orange bathed room, the sky aflame with deep reds and pinks as the sun traded places with the moon. Ivan’s arms were draped around the American's now slight frame, loosely locked to hold Alfred in place. The tall Russian’s body was pressed against his own, spooning in a position usually reserved for the closest of lovers. The straw-blonde felt heat prickle across his cheeks;
He didn’t mind it.
Ivan was always so nice to him; feeding him when his arm shook with pain (‘You must be more careful on the stairs, little patriot,’ Ivan had chuckled), tucking him under the icy sheets-kissing him goodnight…
The heat bristled upwards to his ears and Alfred shifted slightly; right-the kiss…
“You are restless tonight, my rebel,” the elder country hummed from behind him. The vibrations tickled Alfred’s back, warmth spreading outward from his spine; he shivered.
“I’m sorry, M-mother,” Alfred managed, pulling a nearby pillow into his arms as he curled into himself, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Breath against the back of his neck, roaming fingers across his shoulders; flames licked along his face as the Russian spoke.
“I was merely dozing, Мой милый,” Ivan mouthed along his lower hairline, “Though I was thinking of you…”
“A-aah,” the American gasped quietly, the chills rapidly breeding. Suddenly, strange words fell from his mouth.
“N-no-s-stop…” Alfred stuttered before he could think; his eyes widened in shock as he felt Ivan’s hands tense. Why-why did he say that? The touches didn’t feel bad-just tickly and hot; why was part of him saying this was wrong?
“I see.”
The blonde felt the large hands withdraw and the bed shift as Ivan stood; the American looked up, eyes full of confusion and anxiety. He’d done something wrong, hadn’t he?
No-No! THIS is wrong; don’t fall for it!
He’d messed up again, hadn’t he?
He’s the one messing with you!
Mother-mother might not love him anymore!
He doesn’t deserve your love! He’s a monster-
“Mother-I, um…I-I mean,” Alfred stammered, his internal war making his head pound. Ivan had made his way towards the door, pausing as he gripped the curved handle.
“Mother knows, little rebel; Mother realizes that you are just like all of his other children. They take from Mother, but give nothing back. They will give nothing, take everything; but they will not love Mother. Just like my Liet and his brothers; they will not accept Mother’s love.”
A beat of silence; the Russian had to be very careful now. This was his chance, the moment to cement all of his work in place; however, it would only work if the brat was willing…
Counting to five, Ivan turned the handle, making a show of leaving.
“Wait! I-I-Mother, I’m sorry! Please don’t leave!” a voice said, the tone choked with tears. Ivan smirked; this was going well. Wiping the smile from his face, he turned, facade composed into the most hurt expression he could muster.
“My patriot, you must be fully aware of what you say,” the Ivan said, slowly returning to the bed. He wiped the unshed drops from Alfred’s eyes, cupping the side of his face, “When you say you love Mother, Mother will give you his love in return; all of it.”
Alfred’s mind raced, his heart pumping loudly in his ears. He loved Mother; he was sure of it. Then why-why did he hesitate? It was that little voice, the one that told him he had to remember something…Well-well, what did it know?! It was wrong! Mother cared about him! Loved him!
No! Alfred, you're losing yourself! Get it together! Don’t let him win!
Layer by layer, abandoned; pushed to the side to make room for a re-birth, to rise from the ashes and breathe new air…
He was finding himself, Alfred reasoned, the true self he always wanted. Right? He took Ivan’s hand, shy and unsure; cheeks burning, he awkwardly brushed a kiss across the knuckles, staring into the sheets.
“I understand,” a deep breath; the Russian waited patiently, mentally screaming ‘say it, say, say it-‘
“I-I l-love you, Mother.”
…and from the ashes, the fledging was ensnared by the darkness, a blindfold of false light wrapped securely around its head.
A smile; the violet eyes shining with happiness, Alfred thought.
Half-lidded pools of blue; a love too innocent not to taint, Ivan thought.
“No; it is Ivan now, Мой любимый,” he whispered with just the right amount of softness, playing his features perfectly. He pushed Alfred down against the mattress, straddling the younger nation’s form.
“You are certain?” he questioned, for show rather than actual concern. Arching his back, Alfred met his lips in a tender, chaste kiss, feelings of insecurity and a fumbling affection leaking through.
Oh, this was precious.
Ivan smiled into the kiss, running his tongue along his captive’s bottom lip. Alfred’s mind went blank, a stray tear streaking from his eye, something neither party noticed; it was the last stand of the old Alfred, the America that then lost himself in the warmth, and drowned in the artificial feelings.
The Russian pressed harder, leaving the younger country breathless beneath him as he ran his hands along Alfred’s body. The American gasped as Ivan roughly pressed into his arousal with a well-placed knee, the violet-eyed man taking this chance to ravage his charge’s mouth.
No place was left untouched, unexplored: Ivan’s teeth grazed the other’s collarbone, leaving angry red marks as he sucked and pinched the flesh, earning breathy moans and whimpers. Glasses askew, the younger country’s face was flushed with pleasure, eyes glazed and chest heaving. However, Alfred’s stomach fluttered nervously, the butterflies dancing in his breast.
“Do not worry, little one; I will take care of you,” Ivan purred into his skin, as if Alfred was completely transparent. Taking a gulping breath, the American leaned back into the pillows, eyes closed, and smiled timidly.
Alfred believed him.
~~~~~~~~~
Toris compulsively kneaded his hands, his mind flickering back to dinner. It had taken both of his brothers to calm him, and even then it had taken nearly half-an-hour.
He didn’t used to be like this.
He used to be able to handle life with Ivan; the constant mental barrage, the violent beatings paired with gentle touches, complete isolation for weeks at a time; he’d made it through it all, his tears having run dry after only a few days. Then why-why was this any different?
Because it was America.
The ‘Land of the Free’ and ‘The Home of the Brave,’ the country that always leant a helping hand, that built up its own enemies so they could be free too. The Lithuanian felt his hands involuntary clench.
Weren’t he and his brothers enough to push around? No; he was never satisfied, not until he got exactly what he wanted, not a breath less.
But Alfred’s realization at dinner left Toris hopeful, gave him a reason to believe that Alfred was twisting himself away from Ivan’s grasp. A smile blossomed on his face; he was so glad! The American would finally be able to escape and give the Russian what he truly deserved.
Tucking this thought away, the brunette gently rapped against the door to Alfred’s room; his brothers had speculated that Ivan was out (since they hadn’t seen him for several hours) and the only place the other could be was in his room.
No answer.
Eyebrows arching in surprise, Toris tested the knob, and, finding it unlocked, let the door swing wide. The room was blanketed in darkness, the moon casting pale figures across the bed and floor. Fumbling for the light, the Lithuanian tried to discern shapes in the inky black.
“Alfred? Are you asleep? You didn’t get much dinner, so I thought I’d-”
Flick.
Skin, everywhere; tangled limbs and rumpled sheets. The dirty, sultry smell of sex and sweat permeated the air, causing Toris’s stomach to contract painfully.
“Ah, my Liet; you are a little late to be joining, da?”
Lips trembling, the Lithuanian slowly met the violet irises of Ivan, who was no longer bothering to hide his shadow edged smile. Toris’s whole body was vibrating as the Russian trailed a single finger along the contours of Alfred’s motionless form.
“I-Ivan,” the brunette choked out, forgetting his formalities, “you-you didn’t…”
“Hm? Didn’t what, little Liet?” At this moment, Alfred stirred and Lithuania’s breath caught in his chest. The American blinked sleepily as he leaned against Ivan’s sitting shape. Nuzzling his captor’s neck, Alfred planted a shy kiss on his throat; he hadn’t even noticed Toris in the doorway.
“Ivan,” Alfred whispered, his voice still warm with afterglow, the thin sheets protecting his modesty shifting, “I love you.”
As the Russian held younger country, whose head was now resting comfortably resting in the well-placed crook, he smiled at the trembling man, the smirk vile and sick.
Toris suddenly felt light-headed and ill; he faintly felt his hand cover his mouth, bile at the back of his throat, and his mind was beginning to swim. Wait-Ivan was mouthing something-
I win.
The Lithuanian barely felt it as he crumpled to the floor.
((A-Anon here! First off, I love all of you guys for your awesome comments! <3 Second, I think that tommorrow's update will be the last (unless the ending goes really long XD); I'm not trying to cut you guys off, but the story is ready to be wrapped up (and you all are too good for filler :3). Anyway, comments and criticism are always appreciated! I think you'll like the last part. ;D
P.S.- A-Anon has never written (almost) smut before; she blushed the entire time. XD
Translations:
Мой милый- my sweet (boy), Мой любимый- my love)