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Siberian Winter	By : ArcadiaEclipse Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2164 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I make no money from my fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Siberian Winter
- 1
Warnings: Yaoi (RussiaxGermany), angst, language, violence, Nazi references, and explicit sexual depictions ahead. This fanfic is intended for adult readers only.

Author’s Note: The temperatures provided in this fanfiction are accurate and given in degrees Fahrenheit.



~ * ~ Siberian Winter ~ * ~

By ArcadiaEclipse

I had always envisioned Hell as a place of brimstone and fire, living flames clawing over jagged rocks to devour the souls of the damned in some grand explosion of chaos and rancor. Around me the wind came alive in a concentrated effort to strike me down where I stood but my body continued to move on its own volition, trudging onwards ever deeper into the abyss. I was weary but unable to rest, hungry but I could not eat. Every fiber of my being screamed in pain and exhaustion but I was determinedly focused on pushing one blistered foot in front of the other now that my goal was in sight.

Hell was cold, damn it.

I cursed Ivan for living in a frozen wasteland but truthfully I knew that I was to blame for starting this war on Russia’s home front in the wake of an impending winter. Siberia was no place for a sane person, soldier or otherwise, and only I was crazy enough to leave camp and trudge nearly two miles to the coordinates that Ivan had provided to me for our next rendezvous. The small shack of mottled stone would be an eyesore under normal conditions but in the middle of a Siberian blizzard it appeared to me on the horizon as a domestic treasure, a beacon that called my weary body onwards until I finally reached the heavy wooden door. There was no telling where my sudden surge of strength came from but I somehow forced my way past the howling wind and snow that made every attempt to deny me entrance to the safety within the small house.

Panting and trying to catch my breath once inside, I quickly caught sight of my lover seated calmly in a rocking chair before the unlit fireplace. Ivan didn’t speak right away but I could see him grinning at my disheveled appearance. Damn him, I could tell he found it funny.

“Did you run a marathon, Ludwig?”

“Shut up.”

I growled at the Russian’s amused chuckle but begrudgingly moved to his side anyway and leaned down to press my lips to his in a firm but lingering kiss. Two years together and yet my fondness for this man remained somehow intact.

“Welcome to my homeland, sweet German.”

“This is Russia?” I snorted. “I thought Hell had frozen over.”

“Not quite. We just guard the northern borders of Hell against an invasion of the damned.”

“And yet the damned have found you tonight.”

“Do you intend to invade me, Ludwig?”

“Nn.” I kissed his grinning lips again. “Yes. Repeatedly in fact if it will ward off this wretched cold.”

Such words were only ever a jest with him. Both of us knew that Ivan would never submit to me willingly and I too would fight him with every ounce of my being if he should try to dominate me. Such was our relationship- a mess of mutual masturbation sprinkled with the occasional blowjob and a post-coital cigarette.

Parting from his lips, I took note that Ivan had taken the time to locate an old mattress in the shack and put it before the fireplace ceremoniously although the ashes weren’t fresh and he probably had little intention of lighting a fire unless I forced his hand in doing so. I settled for the next best thing, tugging my winter gloves off with my teeth and digging through the interior of my coat for the small cigarette tin hidden in a secret pocket at my waist. The precious contents of the tin were thankfully dry against the odds but my matches were soaked through from the blizzard and completely useless to me now. With the cigarette clenched stubbornly in my teeth, I growled in annoyance at my repeated inability to coax even the smallest of sparks to my hand but then the pungent odor of sulfur suddenly invaded my senses and I turned my head just as Ivan reached up to light my cigarette with his own match. I hadn’t expected his aid but I held his hand in mine lightly, drawing the Russian’s lit match close to ignite the tip of the cigarette poised at my lips.

It wasn’t a crackling fire, but the warm smoke in my lungs was still a comfort as I moved to sit on the edge of the mattress next to where Ivan remained in his chair. Together we stared at the barren fireplace for lack of anything better.

“Most men smoke after sex, not before it you know.”

“Most men don’t have to hike two miles through a Siberian blizzard just to get laid. Why didn’t you build a fire while you waited?”

“The smoke would alert both enemy and ally to our location.”

“I say any idiot willing to hike through this frozen Hell deserves to capture us.”

It was unlikely that any of our allies could spot a pillar of chimney smoke given the whirlwind of snow cascading outside the small shack but Ivan stubbornly held to his argument and the ensuing silence felt thick between us. Minutes passed before I begrudgingly flicked the top of my cigarette tin open again, offering him one in wordless thanks for lighting mine moments before. Although Ivan’s smile quirked the Russian just shook his head and reclined slightly in the rocking chair eliciting a creak of protest from the aging wood.

“Your offer is appreciated, Ludwig, but I only smoke when it’s cold.”

I stared at him, my cigarette balanced precariously at the tip of my lips and ignoring the hot ash falling into my lap while I hugged my shivering body tighter under the woolen shell of my coat. As if on cue the wind picked up outside the small stone shack, raging against the windows and howling as it swirled down the darkened chimney in an icy blast. I grit my teeth to keep them from rattling but Ivan seemed blissfully unaware of the temperature, humming softly in his chair while he rocked.

“You’re crazy.”

“Hm? It’s a Russian folk song. Usually sung around harvest time but-“

“It’s ten below zero! How are you not cold?”

Ivan grinned, apparently enjoying watching me stew in a fit of increasing misery. I always suspected this man got off on my discomfort.

“Actually, it’s unseasonably warm for this time of year. Have you ever weathered a Siberian winter, Ludwig?” His grin quirked slightly more malicious. “Siberian winters start around negative ten if you’re lucky but almost always fall to forty below. Seventy below in Oymyakon.”

My heart fell.

“We.. We’re not there…right?”

“No. It’s a small town far to the east.”

Relief was fleeting. Already my fellow soldiers whispered late into the night of going rogue but very few had actually succumbed to the temptation and left our ranks to return home. Those that did leave were infrequently discovered days later by our trailing allies having apparently passed unconscious from exhaustion and now frozen stiff in the icy snowdrifts. Most, however, were never heard from again.

“I can’t imagine how your soldiers are fairing in this weather. Most of our northern troops are from this region and used to the chill of winter. It’s second nature to them now. Did you know, Ludwig,” Ivan leaned forward as if confiding some great secret, “that very few women venture into these northern frontiers? Many of my soldiers have lived years, decades even without a female touch or embrace.”

I didn’t see the point in his description of Russian men with their sexual habits in the north and tales of winter only made my bones shiver. Currently I was fighting a losing battle with myself over whether to pull him against me on the mattress for added warmth. My body decided for me when a particularly fierce shiver raged through my chilled flesh and I finally relented, gripping Ivan’s wrist with a low growl threatening dismemberment should he comment as I drew him down from the rocking chair to sit beside me on the makeshift bed.

“So lack of women and comforts of the flesh make Soviets warmer somehow?”

Ivan chuckled and wrapped a strong arm around my shivering shoulders.

“Not exactly. But Russian vodka and the warmth of a strong man in our beds seems to be quite effective.”

“Do you prefer women?”

“I prefer you above all others.”

Heat flowed off of this man in tangible waves and I felt myself gravitating closer to him as Ivan kissed and nipped at my throat fondly. It wasn’t often that I curled up in his arms willingly, and though I was certain that Ivan knew I sought him only for heat the Russian wasn’t one to allow a golden opportunity to pass by unheeded. His hand shifted from my shoulder possibly on a quest for more southern flesh but upon reaching my upper arm the Russian paused his gentle exploration to pull back with a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like this on you.” His strong fingers idly brushed over the black and white emblazoned on my armband but Ivan’s touch remained light as if unwilling to associate himself for long with the symbol of self-righteous hate that I wore printed on red satin upon my sleeve.

“I didn’t ask you to like it.”

“Why do you wear lies, Ludwig? I know that you don’t believe any of it. This isn’t you.” His voice softened but still I found it hard to look him in the eye when my lover refused to smile at me.

“What do you think my soldiers or my citizens would say if they knew we were in the wrong with this war? Who is there to hate when you’re the one hated by everyone? Who can be worse when I’m already the bad guy?” My hand moved of its own accord to mask the hateful black and white upon my arm lest my lover feel compelled to lecture me longer. “I know a man…that thought he had those answers. He thought he knew who could be an enemy of the enemy…”

Ivan snorted.

“He’s just spreading lies.”

“He’s leading a cause that’s bigger than one man, Ivan. Bigger than you or me or anything remotely decent left in this war.”

“He’s just teaching the poor and downtrodden to blame others for their misfortune.”

“I know.” My fingers flexed minutely. Even I didn’t want to see the evidence of my self-betrayal anymore. “He’s teaching the world that hate can fester and bleed within us like an infected wound, rotting humanity from the inside out.”

Silence hung heavily in the chilled shack, neither of us breaking the solemn mood with words as Ivan finally shifted, removing my hand from where it clasped my arm and in one great yank the silence was cut by the ripping of stitches. My lover pulled away only long enough to throw the armband symbolizing my Nazi allegiance into the ashes pillowed upon the base of the hearth. No words were needed and Ivan did not persist with discussing what I had knowingly allowed myself to become in our months apart. Without a word, the older man piled wood in the fireplace burying that which he hated about me before nursing a spark from his matches to life. I watched him work, pleased that Ivan’s smile slowly returned by the time that he was satisfied with the cracking fire and returned to sit beside me on the mattress.

Between the fire now blazing before us and the Russian wrapping his arm around my shoulders, the shivers racking my smaller frame had vanished like a distant memory and I stubbed out my cigarette to tuck it away again into my tin for a colder time. Ivan chuckled as he watched me toe off my boots in hopes of warming my nearly frozen feet but my sigh of contentment suggested pleasures too tempting to pass up and soon my lover followed suit with his own boots and snow-dampened winter coat. Although the older man shifted to remove mine as well, I hesitated and his brow quirked in question.

“It’s warmer, Ludwig. Even your fragile Western flesh will not go cold any longer.”

“I know, but…”

“I will keep you warm, sweet German.”

His hands unfastened the buttons on my uniform and though I fully expected him to chastise me I watched in silence as he pushed the fabric from my shoulders to pool on the mattress by my waist. I had anticipated his frown this time and Ivan didn’t disappoint.

“You’re not eating. When were you injured?”

Arguing with him would have been pointless. He already knew that I was a habitual liar but given the genuine concern on my lover’s face I opted for honesty as he examined a hastily-dressed wound on my shoulder and another older bandage on my chest.

“A bullet grazed me in battle two days past. The other was stray shrapnel from a fortnight ago.”

Peeling the dressing from my body elicited a hiss from my lips before I could contain my discomfort and seeing the damage left in the bandage’s wake left me with a more sobering reality after days of stubborn denial.

“Your wounds are badly infected, Ludwig.”

“It happens often in war.”

“Does the German army not know of antiseptic?”

“Knowing is one thing. Acquiring a sufficient supply to dress all of the wounds that we have sustained in battle is another matter entirely.”

                I watched Ivan dig through his pack producing gauze and a flask whose contents summarily wet the bandages moments before he pressed them to my flesh earning a string of curses from my lips.

                “Does it hurt?”

                “No, it tickles.”

                He laughed but pressed the flask into my hands before his own returned to cleaning my body with care.

                “What the hell is this stuff anyway?”

                “Drink it. Your pain will fade.”

                I arched a brow at him but took a tentative sip trying to retain my composure when my throat burned in protest. Unfortunately, I was familiar with Russian vodka and this particular one burned my stomach long after I had swallowed even just a trace amount of the clear liquid. Though I tried to speak my words were lost in a sudden fit of choked coughing that my lover seemed to find either endearing or just plain funny.

                “You actually drink this stuff?”

                “Among other things, yes.” Ivan took the flask from me for a deep, steady sip that he seemed to savor. “It also strips paint and cleans an engine like you wouldn’t believe.”

                I missed his humor. Most of our days played out on the battlefield in bloodshed while nights were generally spent treating the wounded until the first hint of crimson light on the horizon signaled that the next day’s brush with death had commenced. To hear a joke on my lover’s lips triggered my own grin and even a soft chuckle escaped me as I took the flask from his fingers and indulged in a deeper sip than I had allowed myself previously. It really wasn’t so bad after I got past the initial burn in the pit of my stomach and on my third or fourth mouthful the Russian liquor began to warm my whole body, not just my throat. Ivan watched me drink with a knowing smile, kissing playfully at my shoulder and neck though I pointedly ignored him and drank freely from his flask like it was my own.

                “I had forgotten, German.”

                “Nn?”

                He grinned, now shifting to sit behind me and though I purposely paid him no mind I could feel Ivan snaking one hand lower to unzip my pants while his lips pressed intimately to the back of my neck.

                “I forgot how beautiful you are when you smile.”

                I snorted but allowed his hand to slip inside the fly of my pants and begin stroking my half erection in earnest. Ivan’s touch was firm but slow and steady, seeking only to arouse without pushing me over the edge too quickly. I occupied myself with reveling in the fire’s warmth as well as the heat building in the pit of my stomach courtesy of his hand upon my cock and also the strong alcohol quickly dispersing through my veins.

My lover seemed amused by my drinking and when I had wrung the last drop from his flask the Russian produced a fresh bottle from his pack and offered it to me freely. Too long had I remained sober for the sake of war and, consequently, consuming only a quarter bottle more of the Russian vodka had my body flushed and slouched against him while arching into his fist with a low moan.

“Perhaps you’ve had a little too much liquor this evening, Ludwig.”

“Mm..no.. I… Ivan I jus’.. I love you. Wanna say I..r..really fucking..love you.”

He chuckled though the older man didn’t try to dodge my lips as I pressed them sloppily against his with an intensity that I rarely demonstrated when sober.

“Yes, I know.”

“No, ‘m…serious, I really..mmm..”

“Careful, German,” he grinned into my lips. “If you’re drunk you won’t be able to fight me off when I decide to fuck you.”

My brain was cloudy and only half functioning at best but Ivan’s words rang clearly and for once I didn’t really feel the need to scoff at him or reassert my dominance in the wake of his threat. Truthfully, I was just a bit curious what it must feel like to give myself fully to this man; to be fucked and made to submit beneath his strong body, my own flesh molded for the sake of Ivan’s pleasures extracted from me through sexual force.

I sat there silently pondering the prospect but my inhibitions were low and I grinned when tipping the bottle back for one final deep drink of the powerful liquor. Dignity and fears be damned.

Ivan was upon me before I could even swallow but thankfully the Russian took the bottle from my hand and set it aside where we wouldn’t be likely to knock it over sometime in the night. His powerful body pressed mine beneath him and though I attempted to mock wrestle with him for dominance my inebriated state made it easy for the Russian to pin me to the mattress and strip my pants and undergarments away without much additional effort. Part of my brain still insisted that I make him earn my submission and I struggled earnestly with Ivan, grunting and growling like an angry creature in heat.

“You won’t escape me, lover. I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

“Yer.. No, you’re..not gonna..”

Although Ivan wasn’t especially troubled with my limited resistance to his advances, the older man didn’t have much opportunity to strip off his pants entirely lest I try to escape once his hands were otherwise occupied. In the end, one hand was all that the strong Russian needed to pin me. The other unzipped his fly and withdrew his sizeable erection, pressing it against the crack of my ass and this time he bent to kiss me firmly and draw my attention away from below my waist. Maybe it was the heady feeling of being denied air by his lips combined with the alcohol in my veins, but my body went limp all of a sudden and Ivan chuckled into our joined mouths.

“Are you going to behave?”

“…No.”

“Mmm. I’m glad.”

Regardless of my words, I still remained somewhat docile as Ivan pressed his lips to my exposed shoulder and throat, his hand purposely moving to grip my half erection and stroke it fully to attention. Pleasure mixed with alcohol was apparently a potent enough combination that I was unable to do much more than clutch his larger body atop mine and offer a litany of groans between arching my spine to press my cock into his fist repeatedly.

Something warm and slick prodded at my backside prompting me to growl and attempt to shift away but Ivan nipped my shoulder, wordlessly commanding that I stay put for now.

“Ivan, ..what..?”

“It’s a burn salve. Would you prefer to be taken dry?”

“…No.”

“Then shut up and don’t complain.” He grinned, nuzzling my jaw affectionately. “…Or you could make those sweet sounds that I like so much.”

I opened my mouth to curse him but Ivan suddenly sat back on his heels, lifting my ass a few inches to meet the opened fly of his pants and his cock pressed inside my body without further preparation. Had I been sober, soldier instincts would have kicked in already and I could have clearly masked my discomfort and pain to avoid giving my enemy the pleasure of watching me writhe beneath him. As it was, however, the liquor in my veins dulled the pain in my injured shoulder and back but I could no longer control my body physically and I hated myself for granting Ivan the shuddering gasp that he so desired from my lips.

My lover’s brow creased sympathetically but the feel of my body wrapping his cock in a tight, moist heat was enough to convince the Russian not to withdraw his erection or even pause the gradual thrust of his hips forcing himself inch by inch inside of me. At least he didn’t chide me this time. The older man’s arms moved from my waist to support my back and drew my body upwards into his arms. In this position I now straddled his thighs as Ivan kneeled, the Russian buried balls-deep inside of me and my lover’s face pressed into the crook of my neck to kiss and nuzzle the sensitive juncture at my collar and throat.

Had I been sober I might have questioned Ivan’s unusually affectionate behavior, but it was his whispered words into my collar sounding very much like ‘I love you’ that confused my alcohol-infused brain the most. I wasn’t likely to remember any of this come morning. Maybe that was why Ivan smiled at me so tenderly and drew my lips into another long, lingering kiss while he guided my arms to wrap around his broad shoulders.

His hips began rocking against my body purposely maintaining his depth as well as maximum contact of our joined flesh. Strong hands found my hips below and Ivan used his own strength to move my body per his will, purposely impaling me upon his thick shaft as his hands raised and lowered my ass upon him at an increasingly rapid pace.

The harder that Ivan thrust the more disoriented I became, still clutching to his back and pressing my forehead into my lover’s shoulder. It was hot. Like my whole body was being pushed closer to the fireplace but Ivan just held onto my hips, guiding my feverishly warm body repeatedly up and down his erection determined to drive us both over the edge. The Russian must have sensed that something was wrong though and his hands left my hips finally to wrap around my back and hold me still in his lap for a moment of concerned intimacy.

“Are you okay?”

“Nnh..” I couldn’t see straight. My temperature must have risen during our sex and dehydration from the large quantities of alcohol that I had consumed resulted in my body shaking slightly against my control even as beads of sweat collected on my forehead and dampened the flesh of Ivan’s shoulder where my head lay. My vision was cloudy but my senses remained alert enough to feel Ivan’s hands tenderly stroking my back and supporting my tired frame fully in his arms to relieve any additional stress on my body.

“It’s okay. We’ll take a break.”

“N..No, I jus’..” I was sweating and far too hot to remain where I was. There was one easy way to cool off quickly however and, though confused, Ivan allowed me to shakily dislodge myself from his arms and stumble across the worn bricks. “’m…gonna jus’…step outside fer a..second.”

I was barely to the door before Ivan’s hand planted firmly on the wood, purposely holding it shut against my drunken efforts to escape and cool off.

“Let me go!”

“It’s ten below outside, remember? You’ll freeze to death, Ludwig.”

I growled but didn’t have the strength any longer to tug the door open while my lover used his considerable muscle to hold it shut. Defeated and sweating still, I leaned back against the door trying to feel even a touch of the refreshing cold that remained tantalizingly just out of reach. I hated him. I wasn’t a small child but Ivan still firmly denied me the freedom to leave the small shack as I wished. I turned my head away from him when the Russian tipped his chin down to kiss me but rather than grow angry at my stubbornness the older man’s lips quirked and suddenly Ivan gripped the backs of my thighs, using the door at my back to brace my weight as he lifted me into his arms. My legs were summarily wrapped around his waist and the Soviet now carried me away from the exit by force.

                “..T.the fuck? I’m g-gonna shoot you, Ivan!”

                “Later. You want cold, lover?” Ivan strode a few feet to where the window offered a view into the swirling abyss of cold and snow outside the shack, never even pausing as he backed me against the frozen glass wringing a sharp gasp from my lips at the sudden chill now racking my body.

                He barely paused, reinserting himself into my body and this time Ivan fucked me in earnest with my back to the window. The panes felt promisingly solid against my spine; most likely cast for the specific purpose to withstand the most brutal of storms in the north. Ivan didn’t seem preoccupied with whether the glass was likely to break or not, however, having been on the verge of climax before when I left him by the fire.

                The position allowed for deeper penetration and Ivan made every effort to press himself as fully as possible into my prone body. This was for his pleasure now. Mine was merely the chilled glass at my back cooling my fevered flesh as the Russian snapped his hips upwards driving himself deeply into my ass on each thrust. Vaguely I could hear Ivan speaking my name repeatedly but the warmth of my lover’s heated flesh was swallowing my senses, enveloping my intoxicated body thoroughly, and as my drunken dizziness returned full-force I finally passed out in Ivan’s arms.

                When I came to it felt like the heavy stone walls had uprooted and collapsed upon my skull sometime in the night. I was vaguely conscious of someone groaning loudly in the near vicinity and it quickly became evident that the noise was generated in my own chest. My head hurt like hell and though I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in my hand nothing, not even the feel of gentle fingers stroking my hair could alleviate the pounding in my ears. I could feel Ivan kissing my fingers but it was a few moments before I sighed and removed my hand from my face so he could reach my lips.

                “I hate you.”

                “I thought you loved me.”

                I growled but the sound was muffled by his chest beneath my cheek. When had I fallen asleep in his arms?

                “I hate you for letting me drink that much.”

                “I tried to stop you, sweet German.”

                “No, you gave me the whole damn bottle!”

                “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that part.” Ivan chuckled into my shoulder, kissing the sensitive flesh there idly and tugging his large coat up higher where it was draped over both of our otherwise nude bodies. “What else do you remember?”

Certain moments were lost on me but I could clearly recall being overpowered and thoroughly fucked for what felt like days. I was fairly certain that even intoxicated I could have fought Ivan off and repelled his advances but some deeply repressed, submissive part of me had emerged in my inebriated state and allowed the Russian to do whatever he desired with my willing flesh.

“Nothing else,” I lied, feigning disinterest in the topic. “I must have been terribly drunk.”

Ivan’s smile remained though perhaps a little less confident as his hand stroked my naked ass beneath his coat where we lay.

“Am I that easily forgettable, German?”

I shrugged but shifted off of his body to sit up beside him and retrieve my pants from the old brick floor, purposely ignoring the older man when I began to dress even as Ivan wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and set about kissing my neck in earnest.

“Perhaps I could help restore your memories.”

I growled and tugged my pistol from its holster at my hip, purposely aggressive when jabbing it into his neck making Ivan jerk back startled by my wordless death threat. His brow was creased in confusion but the Soviet smiled just the same with his hand still resting upon my hip.

“Are you going to shoot me, lover?”

“Get. Your hand. Off me. Now.”

Ivan’s fingers froze on my clothed hip but his touch remained as if debating whether my threat actually had merit to it or not.

“I really will shoot you. Back off, Ivan.”

                His smile quirked. Perhaps he found my threat amusing but the resounding click of my weapon being cocked gave the Russian pause for a moment as if considering the sincerity of my words. Two years now we had been casual lovers, more than intimate with our hands and mouths. Last night introduced a whole new chapter to our sexual history and Ivan seemed reluctant to return to our roles as equally dominant soldiers sharing only a reach-around or the occasional blowjob between one battle and the next.

                “Ludwig…”

                His palm shifted tenderly over one cheek of my ass but jerked away a second later when the walls of our small safe house reverberated from the echo of a gunshot. Recoiling and clutching his bleeding shoulder in mingled pain and disbelief, the Soviet gaped at me then snarled.

                “You’re crazy! All I did was touch you!”

                “I said I’d shoot you if you persisted.”

                I had a point though perhaps not a very valid one from Ivan’s perspective, especially after what took place last night. The Russian had touched me, invaded me anywhere he desired and in my drunken stupor I only encouraged his every stroke of my flesh with wanton moans and heated kisses, permitting Ivan to do as he pleased with me. I could clearly remember only bits and pieces of what occurred between us the prior evening but these sporadic memories of having given every inch of my body to him freely without restraint turned my ears scarlet. Outwardly, however, I showed no other signs that I remembered anything at all from our brief experiment in anal relations.

                Ivan refused to even look at me now, cursing fluidly in Russian as he dug through his pack to retrieve his gauze along with a fresh bottle of vodka which was applied to both the bandages and his wound without comment. A deeper, more sympathetic part of me regretted having acted so rashly but he purposely ignored my presence now even when I kneeled beside him on the mattress concerned that my attempt at a glancing blow might have been a little off the mark.

                “Ivan…”

                He growled something in Russian that I couldn’t fully decipher but after two years together I had learned enough of the rough northern tongue to catch the words ‘crazy’, ‘no reason’ and what sounded like ‘Nazi bastard’ on his lips. Even with the fire blazing cheerfully unaware of our stalemate my blood instantly turned cold from the hate in those words and I silently departed his company to retreat for now to the small kitchen. Hopefully my absence would allow Ivan time to wallow in his pain and reconcile the anger directed towards me for firing upon him.

                Even I could scarcely believe what I had done, and for what? To save face? To deny that I had given into his advances and permitted the older man to invade me willingly for the first time? For a single night of lowered inhibitions I had allowed my lover of two long years to peel away my aggression, my dominance, truly everything representing the roots of my masculinity and I actually enjoyed letting him press me into submission. No, not enjoyed. I loved it. Ivan had fucked me relentlessly and though I shook my head in denial willing the memories to fade back into half-drunken mirages I couldn’t escape the realization that I had loved submitting to him. I was in loathing of the hidden truth reflected by my inner monologue but I refused to dwell any longer on what I did or didn’t feel.

Stubbornly, I went about digging through the cabinets for anything to occupy my mind and avoid focusing on Ivan Braginski. Although supplies were predictably scarce I did locate a half-empty tin of instant coffee tucked behind an armful of spare plumbing parts under the sink. The grounds were old but didn’t smell rancid to me and I thankfully went to work lighting the old gas stove and waiting for the coffee and water mixture to boil.

There was no table or chairs to sit on while the stove heated but the floor was relatively clean and welcoming enough to my weary body considering that I had trekked nearly two miles in eighteen inches of snow the day before. I wasn’t expecting the initial pain as I sat, a dull ache not emanating from my sore joints or my newly bandaged wounds but instead from my ass itself betraying bruises that I didn’t fully remember acquiring. For the next few minutes I shifted carefully on the floor, clenching my muscles to try to determine the extent of the damage but being unable to see myself made things considerably more difficult.

“This is pointless.”

I was a soldier after all. Soldiers assessed their own wounds daily to determine if additional treatment was required and this pain that Ivan had inflicted upon me was still an injury regardless of its location or how I had acquired it. Without further preamble, I unfastened my belt and pulled the waistband of my pants down allowing my rear end to sit nude on the worn brick below and fighting the urge to shiver again. It was cold without the fire nearby to warm my chilled flesh.

My investigation began as a purely medical endeavor, my fingers pressing lightly to the cleft of my ass then delving between to brush over my entrance feeling for traces of blood or broken flesh. Everything external seemed to be intact and though I was hesitant to explore further I grit my teeth and forced my brain to focus on the task at hand. This was a medical assessment, nothing more. An injured soldier was a danger to those around him and I refused to put my comrades’ lives in peril on my account.

Gritting my teeth, I forced a single finger inside my body with a low grunt and, after a brief pause to adjust, I began pressing the pad of my finger against my innermost flesh feeling carefully for internal damage. I wasn’t expecting the smooth, slippery feel of my inner flesh and the almost oppressive heat of my body gave me pause when forcing my lingering arousal into check and sliding a second finger inside under the guise of searching for deeper injuries. I tried to lie to myself, to pretend that I was merely feeling for invisible damages inside of my body but when another finger pressed inside my entrance and all three withdrew momentarily only to dive back into the velvety heat I knew this had ceased to be a medical exam.

I groaned softly, planting my feet on the bricks below and arching my hips slightly to aid with deeper penetration as a fourth finger was forced into my heated body without hesitation this time. My entrance stretched wide making room for the invading digits which I now thrust in earnest without pause. If anything, the force became primal, harder and uncontrolled as my free hand fell upon my erection and began stroking. I purposely bruised my own flesh now without reason or cause, sacrificing any part of myself for the sake of uninhibited pleasure. With my eyes closed I could almost feel Ivan atop me, inside me, spreading my legs wide and forcing his immense cock into my ass time and time again without restraint.

For nearly an hour more I teased and tortured myself with mixed pleasure and pain, pushing myself to the brink of orgasm and finally, exhausted, I allowed myself to climax within my own fist as I half-sprawled on the kitchen floor panting. My body ached in protest but the smell of burning coffee boiling away on the stove gave me incentive to push myself up and hurriedly turn the gas off. Ruined coffee. Fucking wonderful.

“Keep it in your pants next time,” I growled to myself but pouring the coffee dregs out and cleaning the scorched inside of the pot wasn’t really my priority. I had been gone for more than an hour and in that time never once had I heard a sound from my lover in the next room. What if his injuries were worse than I had initially thought? What if I nicked an artery and he was in there bleeding all alone? My hand shook slightly when setting the pot aside and I hastened to the sitting room again to settle my own creeping fears that the worst had befallen the Soviet in my absence.

I found Ivan sprawled out on our makeshift bed, his wound apparently clean and neatly bandaged but the rest of my lover was nearly unrecognizable to me. The Russian was naked but for his winter scarf and socks as if he had dressed after my departure then suddenly shed all other articles in a fit of overheated flesh. His underwear draped precariously from one ankle suggested that he had tried to tug them on but failed and given up on the process halfway through. His hair was slightly disheveled but Ivan’s eyes sparkled at me and he grinned jovially as I moved to sit beside him on the mattress.

“I..uh…wanted to apologize for shooting you, Ivan.”

“ ‘s okay. I know yer…finger must’ve slipped..n…accident.”

My eyebrow quirked at his slurred speech but I could see the source clutched in his hand- a large bottle of vodka nearly two-thirds empty; its contents I could only assume now fueling my lover’s grin and flushed cheeks.

“You’re drunk.”

“No, ‘m not. This’s me,” Ivan held up the vodka and pointed to an imaginary line where the clear liquid currently filled the bottle then shifted his finger an inch and a half lower. “This’s drunk.”

His words sounded so definite and I laughed in spite of myself while reaching up to brush a bit of stray hair from the Russian’s eyes. Even under the influence Ivan had such beautiful, striking eyes…

“Careful, Russian. If you’re drunk you won’t be able to fight me off when I decide to fuck you.”

Ivan grinned like a devious child, tipping the bottle back for a long, purposeful drink of the strong liquor. Words weren’t needed anymore.

~ * ~ END ~ * ~
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Siberian Winter