[Fic] RussiaxAmericaxUK - Stalemate

[kachiechan.livejournal.com]

Title: Stalemate
Author/Artist: KachieChan
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Russia x America x England
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual concepts. Psychological torture.

Summary: Set during the Cold War, Alfred is mentally terrorized by Ivan. Along with making appearances and sexually frustrating Alfred, Ivan makes him question his core values until the young nation snaps under the pressure. While Arthur has no idea about the mental, sexual struggle between Ivan and Alfred, he can sense something is definitely amiss with America's normal mindset.

A/N: Hope I did this right! ;_; Please enjoy! Also, I didn't make the image! I just found it and prettied up~

---

It was a cold winter night when it all began. A chilly American was wrapped up tight in his sweater, his hands covered in wool-lined leather gloves and his neck in a thick flag-print scarf, made from yarn. It had been his Christmas present last year, for times such as this when he had to venture out to a late night diner, snagging some food before he turned in for the evening.

These days were stressful. Ever since the war had ended, Russia was a hot button for him. They were so close geographically and yet as people, so far. He was in the allies at one point but in the end, his statements had all been true. He was loyal to himself, not any other faction.

Both of them had bombs. He had been thinking a lot about that. These days his citizens were only somewhat aware of the situation, thankfully the media hadn't picked up on the White House whispers quite yet. Needless to say, he had been making many trips to 24 hour dives in the weeks past.

His house was maybe three blocks from that place, and the streets were dead at this late hour. In fact, he hadn't seen anyone around that wasn't rushing from one building to the next. And who could blame them with this deep chill? It had to be the coldest day of the year. How depressing. He really wished winter would end.

It came to be that Russia said the same thing. Maybe they all just wanted this winter to end already.

He was passing by a few buildings, his head fixated on his loafers as they plodded down the sidewalk, when a hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar. In an instant, it felt like a truck had slammed him up against a brick wall, forcing the breath of him with a loud, ragged gasp.

The body's fore arm rested up against his chest, warming it slightly. His glasses were askew on his face, blurring his vision. There was a dull ache in the back of his head from the way it smacked against the hard surface. Other than that, while firm, the grip didn't seem all that threatening.

When his vision adjusted he found that he was staring up at Ivan, who held no kind smile on his face. In it's place was a look of stern discontent, with a hint of malice. His purple eyes cut through the shadow he cast upon his smaller frame pinned against the wall, a halo of light encircling his head from the street lamps at the alley's mouth.

Alfred stared with shock and terror up at him, his pupils dilating. How could he have let his guard down so easily?

Then Ivan smiled darkly, tightening the grip he had on his sweatshirt.

"Is a beautiful winter's eve, da?"

Alfred couldn't understand if it was a threat or a rhetorical question. He only stared up at him, dumbfounded and still in a considerable amount of shock. Ivan's voice only made the situation more real, more tangible.

There was silence between them for a minute or so, Russia smile never wavered. The more Alfred studied his face, the more he couldn't see what his intent was. It was almost impossible how the more he looked for an answer, the less he could conjure. Usually, it was the opposite.

When the silence didn't break, when their body's didn't move, Alfred swallowed dryly and nodded in response. His body began to tremble - not from fear, but from the cold climate. After the initial adrenaline rush, he found that his body was no longer as warm as he thought it was. It suddenly struck him why he had been hurrying to get home in the first place - because it was freezing out.

Russia's free hand came up and began to move towards his face. Alfred flinched out of instinct, though he minded to kept his eye on his hand. His gloved fingers, similar to his own, pressed against his cheek and rubbed comfortingly, as if to attempt to warm his freezing face. All the color had diminished from Alfred's cheeks, leaving him looking paler than the snow that was haphazardly piled in random corners of the street, left to melt when the sun did finally warm them.

America watched Russia's face carefully, attempting to examine his motives by peering into his eyes, but all he saw was darkness and uncertainty. Russia's hand was trailing over his shaking lip now, exposing his bottom row of white teeth. Russia then pressed against one them gently at first, slowly adding pressure, until Alfred felt like he was going to force the tooth out of his mouth.

Alfred gasped as he felt the weight mounting against his root and shot his hand up, slapping Russia's away. He glared at him with wild blue eyes of defiance, gripping the wrist Russia was holding him down with so tightly he could feel the leather of his gloves squeak intensely with every ounce more of force.

"Leave."

America hissed between clenched teeth. He didn't want to have to fight him here. Russia's face never did falter from it's cryptic grin, only slightly perking his brows up once he received such a reaction. He chuckled then, darkly and childishly, licking his own lips.

"America, my comrade... I wanted only to visit you. How cruel you would treat guests this way."

Russia slowly struggled against America's hand on his wrist, lifting up from his original position, he fought Alfred over dominance of the limb. Alfred did not give up easily, attempting to his full strength to keep him from gripping around his neck. Unfortunately, it was for naught. America could feel the gloved finger tips gently brush against his Adam's apple, and then completely encompass his wind pipe. From there, he quickly slide his hand up so that his index finger and thumb were underneath of the joints of his jaw, mounting gravity against them.

Alfred could feel his throat closing, his skin tightening, his lungs retract and expand to fill themselves with air, but were unable. He choked on the salvia that collected in his mouth, and he felt his body be lifted from the ground like some sort of sick carnival ride was in motion. It all went so slowly, so painfully. His face began to redden, filling his once white face with vibrant color. His face was forced up, towards the stars, so he could only feel the sensations and hear the manic voice behind the actions as he sputtered helplessly for air.

Surely, Alfred thought, he was going to die. Russia was going to strangle him slowly and leave his corpse in this alleyway, disrespected and disregarded like a dirty plastic bag or a three legged dog. The drop in the pit of his stomach gave him vertigo and he felt himself becoming light-headed and limp. He swore he'd black out, but instead, felt something entirely different.

A body, pressed up against his own.

Russia nuzzled his face against his neck, blowing hot puffs of air against his straining esophagus. He felt Russia's free hand slowly zip down his jacket, just enough to slip a hand inside and grope blindly, yet carefully around his chest area. A knee wedged between his legs, rolling lazy circles against his crotch.

Yet, he was unable to react. He felt himself fading, completely unable to speak, let alone fight off unwanted advances. Ivan loosened the grip on his neck just enough for him to gasp for bits of air, causing him to feel quite sick to his stomach. In one of his short bursts, he could feel Ivan drag a warm, wet tongue against his trembling throat, as if he was tasting his struggle for oxygen.

Sputtering, Alfred choked out strained words.

"L-Let G-Go-! L-l-L-et-"

The next breath was a suck of air, Russia having loosened his grip to allow him to partake. Russia could only giggle childishly against his neck, feeling amused by his inability to form coherent sentences. The way Alfred's body would twitch impatiently, in need of sweet, life-giving atmosphere... it was almost erotic, how he strained so.

Alfred finally found the strength through his light-headedness to lift up his arm and grip Russia's arm tightly. He twisted his fingers into the coat, hoping to make an impression. With that grip, he kicked weakly until finally, the adrenaline of his possible death raced through his blood stream and he was able to deliver a forceful strike to his solar plexus. Russia increased his grip momentarily, releasing his rage on the American's throat. Alfred screamed breathlessly in response to the sudden painful seize and then he was dropped, finally.

Russia held his stomach, gaping. He lifted his head with a definite look of discomfort, only to smile sadistically, his eyes widening and his grin growing into something maliciously vengeful. America panted harshly, sucking in gullets full of air and readying his fists, although slightly wobbly from his last encounter.

Ivan chortled manically again, then stood to his full height and gleamed his almost glowing purple irises down at him. He simply shambled towards him, easily using the weight of his body to trap a still weakened Alfred against the wall.

Alfred groaned inside of himself, completely in disbelief. He almost wanted to cry. He didn't want to deal with this right now, but he knew it was a problem he would have to face anyways. His limbs were so tired and he was finding it hard to feel concrete yet he was forced into yet another scuffle with this Frankenstein.

He must have let it accidentally show in his face, because he could feel Russia slowly creep up his arms and pin them to the wall, leaving his front completely unarmed. Alfred still managed to glare at him, if not his body, his eyes full of the will to fight him off.

"Da, America-kun. You appreciate things when you do not have them any longer, like air. I bet the oxygen you taste now on your tongue is sweeter than it was five minutes ago~"

"What's your business with me, Ivan?"

"You're so spirited, America-kun. For once I'd like to see your eyes as empty as my own..."

"Sick bastard. Get the hell off of me."

"One day soon you will want Russia as much as you want oxygen, da. You will one day need Russia."

Smirking coldly, Ivan leaned down and hovered his lips over Alfred's, tickling his face with warmth. Ivan's hand rested against his crotch rubbing slowly. Alfred grunted in discontent, though felt his organ rise uncharacteristically. He bit back a moan as a warm gloved hand slipped behind the waistband of his pants and fondled him skillfully.

He felt his face go from defiant to troubled, his eyebrows thrust upwards and he swallowed back moans. He felt the butterflies in his stomach explode in all different directions, with his hips twitching.

This felt so dirty, so nasty. Ivan was touching him, molesting him, and he had already gained back his strength. Yet his hips were like liquid, arching towards his pampering touch. What was this? And why was the feeling so overpowering? Surely his will went beyond simple carnal needs.

Yet why wasn't he fighting? He could clock Ivan right now, he could feel his knee pressed against Ivan's thigh, he could easily strike him and yet. Nothing. His own body betrayed him, yes, even his mind.

When he was close to letting himself simply be taken by the feeling, Ivan pulled away, leaving a space of emptiness where he once was. He watched as Ivan turned his back and walked, with himself staring blankly as he did so. He didn't even pursue him, only stared longingly at his back with confusion and uncertainty.

What was...wrong with him?

He looked down at his pants and instantly felt extremely displeased with himself and his decision. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach, where felt nervousness drip like a thick coat of ooze. The disappointment in himself was the most prevalent, as he zipped up his shorts and stared blanking at the mouth of the alley in wonderment.

When he finally did move his trembling legs to the sidewalk, he looked down the empty streets for Ivan..for anyone and found he was completely alone here, in the darkness and cold of this winter. Frowning, he stood there silently, straining to hear even a cricket.

But there was nothing.

Only silence, only emptiness, only desolation in wake of where warmth and company had once been.

A truly lonely, beautiful winter's eve.

Comments

[peridottears.livejournal.com]

Oh my God, you have such talent in figurative language "D It's, like, so professional.

And this is going to be a multi-chapter, I presume? -- in any case, wow. I'd really like to read more; and the plot is interesting.

[kyuchanjuu.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is so well written, and i love the plot.

[xue.livejournal.com]

I approve. (:'D)b

[poptart-master.livejournal.com]

Need more.

This is was pretty and nice. I can't wait to see what happens.

The way it was written was so fodsfjs;l <3

[insanityin3d.livejournal.com]

SOOOO GOOOOOOOD!

Damn, that was amazing. You write beautifully, especially Ivan. UGH, this was highly enjoyable, I want more. <333

[xxneogeishaxx.livejournal.com]

Wow..... this is wonderful. So sums the COld War almost perfectly!