Flowers for a Weed

Warnings: Yaoi (RussiaxAmerica), extreme angst, language, violence, hurt/comfort and explicit sexual depictions ahead.  This fanfic is intended for adult readers only.

~ * ~  Flowers for a Weed  ~ * ~

Prologue

By ArcadiaEclipse

                “I think this is great.  Really great, Ivan.”

The young American flashed me his most winning smile as he went about dumping a stack of miscellaneous papers and charts on the table.  He seemed oblivious to the fact that I sat there with nothing at all before me with the one exception of my gloved hands, fingers interlaced on the polished wood while I watched him intently.

                “So!  The way I see it, we can each reduce our nuclear arsenals by…say..eighty-five percent.  I mean…even one nuclear weapon is enough to take out a good chunk of everything important to us, right?”  He chuckled nervously.  I smirked but remained otherwise motionless and staring at him in silence.  “And…uh…  Like Schelling said, only a truly crazy country would resort to nuclear war.  It doesn’t make sense to blast someone with a warhead when you could kill a man with an ice pick just as easily.”

This time I did chuckle softly but my amusement with the analogy didn’t seem to be putting Alfred at ease.  My young rival coughed slightly in the process of clearing his throat and averted his gaze back to the mess of paper on my table before us.

                “And…well…my sources tell me that miles of prime Soviet farmland is going untapped because so many farmers have been brought in to work in your factories and nuclear energy plants.  Your grain stores are down twenty-six percent.  By reducing our nuclear arsenals we could virtually eliminate production, reduce maintenance costs by two-thirds and you would be freeing up close to a million workers.

                “Our grain stores are not low.  You numbers are wrong.”

                “But…”  Alfred looked again to a chart clutched in his hand as if checking his data.  “No, it’s…  I have sources…”

                “Your sources hear what I want them to hear.”

                The American suddenly growled and slammed his hands aggressively upon the table, not caring that his papers went sliding and a handful more toppled to the carpet by his feet.

                “Is this all just a game to you?  Why the hell did you invite me to talk if you’re not even willing to discuss my ideas!”

                “Because I like making you blush.”

                Alfred gaped at my calmly uttered words and, quite predictably, his cheeks turned red only seconds later though I could tell the American was trying to hide his flustered expression.

                “That’s idiotic!”

                “I can’t watch you blush with an ocean between us, now can I?”

                “So next time ask for a Polaroid!  You’re wasting my time, my resources and my patience with you, Russian!”

                “Would you prefer to discuss politics in my private bed chamber?”  My amused grin took on a decidedly lecherous undertone.  “I wouldn’t want your trip to be a complete waste of your time.”

                “You..  You’re really sick, Ivan.”

                “You have no idea.”

                Alfred stood motionless before me, the color slowly draining from his face, and I could almost hear his heartbeat now speeding out of control as the gravity of his situation sunk in.  Here he was, thousands of miles from home, deep within enemy lines and all alone with his greatest rival.  There was no one to aid him here whereas my allies remained within easy grasp at all times, far too fearful of my moods to ever stray far from my side at any given moment.  He was at my mercy now.

                And I had a sadistic streak a mile long.

                “Beg me to fuck you.”

                “E..Excuse me?”

                “Beg me to fuck you and I’ll let you return home when we’re finished.”

                “Go to Hell!”

                “This is Hell, Alfred.  I am the gatekeeper and I decide who stays and who leaves.”

                The American never had a chance to reply, parting his lips to curse me no doubt but a loud clang echoed from the walls and the young man suddenly crumpled to the floor.  Where he had proudly stood only my ally Toris remained now, poised awkwardly with a heavy metal pan and looking pale and even frightened.  My grin never wavered and I caressed the Lithuanian’s hip appreciatively as I kissed his lips in thanks for a job well done.  My focus, however, quickly returned to the unconscious man upon my floor and I briskly rolled Alfred onto his back using the toe of my boot.

                “Welcome to my Hell, American.”

~ * ~  To Be Continued  ~ * ~