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Flowers for a Weed	By : ArcadiaEclipse Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 5296 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I make no money from my writing.

Chapter List
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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 ~ * ~

Chapter One

By ArcadiaEclipse

                It was nearing midnightwhen Alfred finally regained consciousness. I had remained just outside his prison cell keeping constant vigil ever since carrying his slackened body from my conference room all the way to the basement prison cells that I kept more so for sadistic amusement than genuine need. Not that I expected the American to somehow unfasten the shackles mounting his wrists to the wall, but I did not trust my allies around the beautiful foreigner quite yet and so I waited impatiently until his eyes finally fluttered open and the American groaned.

                “My apologies,” I smiled sweetly as I rose from my chair and approached him. “My comrade mistook you for a threat and saw fit to defend me. Toris is terribly sorry for his unfortunate mistake, my friend.”

                Alfred winced, obviously in pain still from the blow to his head but the American’s voice was low and unconvinced of my proclaimed innocence in his beating.

                “You’ll kindly forgive me if I choose not to believe a damn word that comes out of your mouth, Soviet.”

                I pouted at his criticism but internally it rather amused me to no end.

                “You do not actually think that I had anything to do with your capture, surely.”

                “Go. To. Hell.”

                My frown slowly twisted into a sadistic smile and I chuckled when approaching my captive rival, slowly reaching up to grip his chin and force the American to look into my eyes fully. For a moment I was lost in his accusing blue stare and his lips remained tight and incompliant as I kissed his mouth with feigned sweetness.

                “It pains me that you think I am a liar, Alfred.”

                “’Liar’ is by far the nicest of all my present opinions of you, Soviet.”

                “You refuse to call me by my name now?”

                “People have names. Dogs and horses have names. You…” Alfred nearly shook in his hatred but with his hands chained to the wall he was unable to strike me, “You do not deserve a name.”

                He didn’t seem to appreciate my amused chuckle and though his eyes narrowed and I could hear his teeth grinding in anger the American remained at my mercy and I had no intention of releasing him anytime soon. Eagerly my hands roamed over his flesh; feeling, caressing, purposely willing a physical response from the brash young man but though I fondled him and his cheeks burned Alfred offered no other sign that he could feel my intimate touches.

The American tensed when my palms roved over his clothed ass and this time he struggled in defiance as my fingers unbuttoned his pants giving my hands space to slide beneath his waistband and cup the naked cheeks of my young rival’s ass. He really did have a fantastic, round butt and I didn’t bother suppressing the sudden unconscionable need to dig my fingers into his firm flesh and squeeze. Alfred winced but he said nothing even as I nuzzled his throat fondly.

“Whose name will you scream in pleasure when I lay claim to your ass, Alfred? Will you call to the heavens for your god or perhaps there is another man that you would envision in my place between your thighs?”

He spit in my face without warning or any apparent regret, glaring poison at me though I simply smirked and wiped my cheek with a calm hand.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, American.” My hands left his body but only to reach into the pocket of my overcoat for the knife that I kept tucked away in reserve. “I like it when my pets misbehave.”

For a single moment in time Alfred’s face betrayed a half dozen emotions that I had never once seen the younger man demonstrate. Disbelief that I could be so unfeeling; shock that I really was as callous as he suspected; pain was the most obvious sensation however and I kissed his trembling lips in tender apology as I slowly withdrew my blade from where I had embedded it into Alfred’s side seconds earlier.

“Y…You.. Why?”

I could see tears collecting in the American’s lashes and though I reached up with my newly bloodied hand to brush them away more took their place and finally spilled over my young rival’s cheeks in a flood of hurt and disbelief.

“Because some toys are more fun to break than play with nicely.”

I kissed him again before wiping the bloodied blade upon Alfred’s pant leg and tucking it away into my coat for later. He refused to look at my anymore though I could see him clenching his teeth in pain while he wept. His tears were beautiful and I couldn’t resist leaning in again to lick slowly up the side of his cheek to taste them.

“When you beg me to fuck you I will release you.”

“I will never beg a bastard like you for anything. Just kill me if that’s what you want.”

“I have no intention of killing you, Alfred. Just showing you how much pain the human body is capable of enduring.”

I watched him stare at me wordlessly, twin tears trickling over his cheeks to eventually fall and spatter uselessly on the smeared bloodstain upon his thigh. His side was bleeding profusely now but even in my sadistic revelry I was no fool. His wound, although deep, was carefully placed to not injure anything vital to Alfred’s survival. He would feel every centimeter of that wound but he would live. I wouldn’t permit him to leave me unless his departure from this world was a deliberate action by my own hands.

I parted his company without further preamble but the lure of touching his beautiful body and watching the hate manifesting in his eyes could never keep me away for long. Hours became days, days turned into weeks and though my frequent visits to his cell always wrung tears and blood from Alfred’s body, never did my American rival speak the words that would allow him freedom from my continued abuse. His tears as I cut into his flesh betrayed such weakness and yet never had I seen a man so strong as to sustain what I was putting him through for week after week. A dozen and one stab wounds later, Alfred still stubbornly clung to his pride and refused to beg me to defile his body.

His eyes when I entered the prison on this particular occasion were already damp and I could see the mounting misery on his face as the American regarded me weakly. For about a week now he had tried to refuse food but on each occasion that my young rival passed out he would awaken to find an IV inserted in his vein providing life-giving sustenance even if he would not consume it himself.

He was so terribly weakened at our last meeting from weeks of continuous blood loss and though I tried more than once to convince him to finally obtain his freedom through a plea to be taken the younger man refused even on death’s door. Alfred was strong but I was cruel and vehemently refused to allow him to pass away still shackled to my walls. I deliberately stabbed him, yes, but as the smaller man passed out I had summoned a field surgeon to perform a blood transfusion and keep him alive at all costs. Alfred had remained unconscious for two days but now that he was awake and not dead as anticipated he looked at me accusingly when I approached him to caress his hip.

“Why? Why won’t you let me die?”

“I told you the words you must speak to depart my company. I will not permit you to leave here, either by foot or in a casket until you comply with me, Alfred.”

A choked sob greeted my ears but Alfred bit his lip to hold back his anguish and refused to look at me. His eyes were so beautiful but I found it harder now to look at them when I abused the young man. Such pain coupled with hate I could see in their depths and lately I was the one turning away from his accusing stare.

“American,” I spoke into his neck actually thankful that he refused to regard me, “I will make you an offer tonight. If you can keep your eyes closed for the duration of my stay, I will not bring you pain this evening.”

Now he did look at me confused but I gently gripped his chin while waiting for his response.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Whatever I wish. Will you agree to my terms?”

He hesitated, swallowing hard but weeks of pain gave him enough incentive to nervously close his eyes though his brows knit in worry for what I would do with him tonight. Even I wasn’t fully certain at first but his eyes, the window to his gut-wrenching misery, was something that I did not wish to see right then. Much better that he was sightless and at my mercy now.

I hesitated only for a moment then slowly caressed his hips with my hands and set to work kissing his collar gently. For some reason the desire to make love to this man even against his will all but consumed me and for now I treated Alfred like a cherished lover instead of an abused toy.

He squeezed his eyes shut in confusion but did not complain while I unfastened his jacket and shirt, kissing down his chest though mindful of any open wounds in my path. Had I fondled his ass he might have been less docile towards me but although he tensed Alfred did not try to fight me off as I unzipped his pants and drew his cock out into the open air. Trembling, the American still obediently kept his eyes shut even when my lips parted and I began to suck his cock deeply into my mouth.

                It wasn’t the first time that I had pleasured a man in this cell but Alfred was different from the hostile Prussian that both cursed and craved me in a single breath. The American trembled and gasped, his brows knit in obviously confused pleasure even as his hips unconsciously tipped forward seeking more of the wet warmth tucked away between my lips. I did not restrain his movements for now, permitting my young rival to set the pace and fuck my mouth with as much fervor or restrained desire as he pleased.

I could have controlled him. I could easily have pinned his hips to the wall and forced Alfred to accept pleasures as I provided them but truly allowing this man to fall headfirst into my debauchery could be equally as pleasurable for me as breaking him through forced intercourse. I took my own pleasures from watching the smaller man gasp and groan, shaking slightly as he released much earlier than expected into my mouth though I spilled not a drop, swallowing his seed and licking his softening member clean in the aftermath.

                “Ivan…”

                He had not spoken my name for weeks and as I tucked his cock away and rose again to stand before him Alfred’s lashes fluttered open but this time there was an absence of hate as he willingly returned the slow, gentle kiss that I pressed to his lips. Only when we paused for a breath did I slide my knife into his groin burying the cold steel completely to the hilt inside his flesh and wringing a confused cry of pain from the American’s mouth where it still pressed firmly to mine.

                “I told you, lover. You were not to open your eyes.”

                Alfred grit his teeth and clearly wanted to kick me but the blood and torn tissue at his crotch prevented him from lashing out for now and I remained unharmed as I drew away from him, once again leaving the American to sob in his prison all alone.

My visits to Alfred’s cell became less frequent over time, though certainly not out of boredom with his repeated refusal to give into me fully. Perhaps deep down in the icy wasteland of my heart I did feel a slight warmth- a sense of sympathy towards the stubborn American. My absence was due to fondness really, not wishing to cause him pain day after day any longer. Pain was beautiful on his face but Alfred’s silent tears each time I cut into his flesh had begun to affect me.

I could not determine how the American’s fierce sense of duty remained after I had tortured him for weeks but Alfred refused to speak the words that would free him from continued abuse and mind numbing pain. Perhaps the younger man truly felt that degrading himself by begging me to take him was the ultimate dishonor to his country- something even worse than death to a patriot. A more conceited part of my brain argued that it was more likely that Alfred feared he wouldn’t be able to withstand taking a cock of my size within his narrow body and it was fear that kept him his lips sealed.

Still the tears flowed down his cheeks freely on this particular occasion and the American squeezed his eyes shut as if trying desperately to keep his crying in check and prevent me from seeing the physical manifestation of his terror and pain. I gently brushed sweat-dampened bangs from my rival’s eyes, pleased that Alfred opened them once my lips descended to speak against his softly.

“I dislike men that self-mutilate, American. You are doing this to yourself.”

He parted his lips as if to counter my words with a snide remark but his mouth was dry and only a choked cough escaped him despite his best efforts. I left his side only long enough to fetch a bucket of water and a hand towel from the entrance to the cell, the later summarily dampened and I set to work cleaning the American’s wounds both old and new. Some were obviously infected and though he tried to mask his pain Alfred trembled as I cleaned his torn flesh of blood and pus alike.

Only when his flesh was cleaned did I dip my hand into the bucket one last time, cupping my fingers and withdrawing a handful of the bloodied water offering it to Alfred’s lips. I knew that he was desperately thirsty and a more sadistic part of my brain was curious whether the American could lower himself even this far for the sake of staying alive. The younger man pulled his head back and turned it to the side refusing to accept my offered drink though his lips were badly chapped and his motions slow betraying the extent of Alfred’s need for water.

Patiently I held my hand to his lips for the American to drink and after a few moments of continued stubbornness the younger man parted his trembling lips and did indeed sip the water tainted with his own blood. I smiled approvingly and raised another handful of the bloodied water to his lips but this time Alfred managed to refuse my offering. Twin tears spilled over his sallow cheeks and though my former ally managed to speak it was little more than a whisper.

“..Please stop..”

“You know the words that will bring me to cease your torment, Alfred.”

Though I had just cleaned him with tender care my hand slipped into my pocket briefly and withdrew my favorite knife to press the blade lightly against Alfred’s stomach just out of sight. He tensed and his eyes, those beautiful, pleading eyes, focused on me for the hundredth time since his capture. He didn’t want this again and I could smell blood already starting to ooze from his more recent wounds having insufficient time to close up and heal fully. I pressed my lips against his as my blade inched forward into his giving flesh but this time when Alfred gasped into my mouth it was followed by words.

“Ivan please!”

I was not expecting my name on his lips and though I paused for a moment to regard him my surprise faded quickly and I pressed the blade a centimeter deeper into his skin making the smaller man cry out again and strain against his bindings. What gave him such strength that even now the American could refuse me? I was losing interest with this game. Perhaps it would be more prudent to finally gut him and end it all.

Alfred shook from the pain coursing through his body as my knife sunk deeper into his flesh but this time the American surprised me when pressing his face into my shoulder and gritting out words through his pain.

“Please, Ivan.. ..F..fuck me..”

I had broken him. After nearly four weeks of repeat torture I had wrung the plea from Alfred’s lips that I had commanded on day one and yet this moment didn’t feel nearly as satisfying as I had envisioned it to be. Tears continued to trace their way down the American’s face but now I could withdraw my knife from his groin and use my bloodied hand to brush them away leaving streaks of red on his pale flesh in my wake. Alfred didn’t protest when I sealed our lips together for a slow, lingering kiss followed by an uncharacteristically affectionate nuzzle to his jaw.

“Yes. I will fuck you, Alfred. But I will heal you first so you may be a prouder, stronger man in my bed when I do so.”

                It was strange seeing both relief and fear so clearly on his face but I didn’t pause for long to enjoy the expression, drawing a handkerchief from my pocket along with a small bottle of chloroform. Alfred struggled valiantly but fell unconscious moments after I had applied the noxious fluid to the fabric and sealed it over his mouth and nose. It was easier this way to unfasten his wrists from the chains binding him to the wall and carry the young man away from the prison grounds entirely.

                Although I had medical staff more than capable of treating Alfred’s wounds, I opted to bathe him and neatly stitch his flesh back together myself with the utmost care to ensure that his scars would be thin and beautiful once healed. He had lost a significant amount of weight in the weeks that the American was bound in my prison, certainly not all of it due to blood loss, and as such I had one of the doctors set up an IV drip in addition to a standard blood transfusion for the young foreigner while I kept a patient vigil throughout the night by his side. Slowly Alfred’s sallow flesh regained the same pinkish hue as when he first arrived in my lands nearly a month before full of energy and ready to discuss a possible treaty.

                Two days. Three. I wondered whether the American would ever regain consciousness but on the fourth day Alfred’s eyes finally fluttered open and he regarded me with a rather glazed expression. His return to me prompted my smile as I leaned in closer and pressed a cup of water to his lips.

                “Drink. You were slow to recover, Alfred.”

                Even tired the American obviously remembered what had occurred before I brought him here and both his eyes squeezed shut, turning his head to refuse the water at his lips again. He didn’t trust me and I really couldn’t blame him.

                “American,” I purposely used my stern voice so he would open his eyes and watch as I took a sip of the offered water then pressed the cup into his pale hand. “It’s clean.”

                Alfred actually looked into the cup now at the clear water and seemed reassured when his shaky hand brought the cup to his parched lips to drink. I refilled his cup once empty and the younger man’s trembling slowly ceased as fluids were restored in his dehydrated body. He remained considerably weak however and thankfully even the brash hero didn’t seem stupidly inclined to attempt fighting me for his freedom in such an injured state. Alfred remained docile in my bed, the cup still in his hands but he was sitting up now to look outside my window at the newly fallen snow.

                “…How long have I been here?”

                “About a month. It’s mid-November now.”

                Alfred bit his lip and looked down again to his lap, his fingers twitching where he held the empty cup.

                “..I would…like to return home before the Thanksgiving holiday..”

                “I’m ready when you are.”

                He blinked at me and I found it rather surprising that the American’s cheeks flushed red like an embarrassed child’s. I knew that he was younger than I was, barely more than a teenager now, but even the loud and obnoxious Alfred F. Jones couldn’t still be a virgin. ..Could he?

                My eyebrow quirked.

                “You’re not a virgin, right?”

                “N..No! I just don’t think people need to discuss this kind of thing with any random person!”

                I grinned at his discomfort and flushed cheeks. This behavior should have been expected of him really.

                “I forgot that southern Americans are so uptight.”

                “It’s not uptight! It’s called being conservative!”

                “Would you prefer to return to the prison?”

                “Of course not!”

                “Then we will do much more than simply discuss our sexual histories, Alfred.”

                He gaped at me then grit his teeth, obviously fighting the angry urge to throw the empty cup at my head. His behavior was actually rather endearing to me and I was overall pleased that I hadn’t gut him like a fish during his final day chained to my walls. I could remember now what attracted me so to this man and why I had originally decided to make him mine.

                “So who was he? Bonnefoy seems like the type.”

                This time he did throw the cup at my head but my reflexes were swift and I caught the clayware before it could even touch my flesh. Alfred glared at me still indignant.

                “SHE was a childhood friend. Why must you assume that I’m gay?”

                “I’m not the one sitting naked in a man’s bed after having begged to be fucked.”

                Again Alfred’s cheeks turned scarlet but the young man had nothing more to throw at me except the blanket keeping his otherwise naked flesh warm and the American was far too set in his conservative ways to expose himself to me so freely. It was interesting to me that a man could be so prudish and yet my sadistic side wanted nothing more than to corrupt him beyond recognition. I really should try harder to quell these violently erotic tendencies of mine.

                “What would you have done if you were the one chained up in a prison being tortured?”

                He posed an interesting question but not one that I had to dwell long upon to answer.

                “I would not have been captured in so obvious a trap in the first place.” Alfred didn’t respond to my statement. I took the opportunity to rise from my seat and stretch before brushing the American’s bangs from his eyes tenderly. He had such strikingly beautiful eyes. I was certain that I could easily drown in them for hours, but that was for another time. “I will not rush you, Alfred, but you will remain my prisoner until your end of our bargain is kept.”

                I left him to ponder what his next course of action would be but standing just outside the door I could see the younger man sitting frozen on my bed and staring out the window at a freedom that he couldn’t obtain. The American sighed suddenly and through my chest felt unnaturally tight for a moment I couldn’t help but watch as my young rival hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms to privately mourn his defeat.

                He was like a child in his mannerisms. Brash, stubborn, insistent on getting his way, and now that I denied him his freedom the American cried. How could a man that gave tears so freely be strong enough to withstand my repeated torture for weeks? He fascinated me like no other and though I had impatiently waited three days for him to awaken I left Alfred alone now to lament his decidedly unpleasant fate. For some inexplicable reason his tears no longer made me smile.

~ * ~ To Be Continued ~ * ~
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Flowers for a Weed