Der Metzgermeister
Suche gut gebauten Achtzehn- bis Dreißigjährigen zum Schlachten. – Der Metzgermeister
Thunk.
Crack, smash.
A scream.
"Quiet, Rabbit. We do not want the others to hear us, do we?"
A tall man in a light brown Soviet Army uniform giggled, bringing what looked to be a segment of pipe down on another male lying on the floor, then threw it to the side to inspect his work.
"You're a...monster!" the one on the floor shouted in a rough voice, attempting to crawl away by pushing his foot against the floor weakly. The Soviet towering above him just put on a smile and brought his boot down on the scarlet-eyed man's chest to trap him, although he knew that no matter how hard the man tried, he could not get away.
"Nyet. Did I give you permission to speak, Gilbert? I thought not. You will need to be punished, Rabbit."
"Ivan, please... Please don't." Gilbert's eyes widened slightly, his pupils dialated in fear. Shaking, pale hands came up to grip the dark brown boot on his chest, which pressed down when his fingertips brushed the leather.
"You used my name! I am pleased." Ivan's smile remained, though the manner in which he spoke was cold and sharp. "But I am afraid it is not enough, my little bunny. You have wronged me one too many times."
"I have done no such thing!" Gilbert snapped, then immediately regretted it when the pressure on his chest was relieved, but then it came crashing down onto his neck full force, making him cough and gasp for breath.
"But you have. And what did I just say? I have not given you permission to speak. Stay your tongue, Gilbert, or I will cut it out."
All Gilbert could manage out was a small hack, clawing at the boot and glaring up into darkened violet eyes. He then grit his teeth, refusing to give the other any more encouraging noises - Ivan had this thing for torturing people, and protesting noises did more than entertain him. Gilbert found that out the hard way a couple nights before, and had the bruises on his hips to prove it.
"Good boy. It wasn't that hard, was it?" Ivan chuckled, removing his foot from the snowy-haired man's neck. "All you have to do is listen to me, and no harm will come to you. Do you understand?"
"Gehen Sie in ein Loch sterben!" Gilbert reached up to rub his neck, feeling part of a boot imprint on the already-delicate skin.
Ivan's eyes darkened even more as his smile disappeared and instead chose to bare his teeth, bringing his gloved fist down to smash his victim in the face.
"Don't you ever speak that filthy language in my home again!" the platinum blonde shrieked, calm exterior dissolving rapidly.
"...Bite me."
Gilbert knew he was treading on thin ice. He had mocked and prodded the Russian before, and already learned the man's limits, but his natural arrogance and irritating nature usually got the best of him and he ended up within the red zone, so to speak, quite often. Ivan never did anything too horrible, though. The worse he had done was bind Gilbert to the basement wall and leave him there until he went quiet and got dangerously thin. Then he had taken advantage of the albino's weakened state, forcing himself upon Gilbert, but Gilbert's attitude hadn't changed toward the man in the slightest since then.
The taller was practically seething with rage by now, having had his pride taken quite a few blows already, but he quickly regained his composure and put on that damned smile again. He stared down at Gilbert with slight amusement and curiosity, mostly with hatred. But there was something else in the depths of his dark amethyst orbs. Something Gilbert couldn't quite place...
"I apologize, Rabbit."
They both knew he wasn't sorry. He was never sorry.
"But I think you have a point."
"You just noticed?"
"Quiet." Ivan waited for Gilbert to finish sighing before resuming. "But yes, I do."
"Slow moron."
"Quiet!" Ivan snapped, lashing out at Gilbert again, who rolled out of the way and hissed as his bruises under his shirt met the hard floor.
Both men went quiet, daring each other to be the one to break the silence. Gilbert eventually found the courage to speak, never taking his eyes off the rather mental Russian standing only a few feet away.
"Can I speak yet?"
"No."
"...What about now?"
Ivan's eyes narrowed but he ground out a 'fine', and clenched his fists.
"Awesome." the albino breathed out, lying his head back onto the stone floor and gazing up at the ceiling. "So is there any reason that you brought me down here? Or did you just want to chat idly while having a nice cup of tea?"
"No, there is a reason."
"Please, do tell."
"I would rather show you, Rabbit."
Gilbert picked his head up to look at Ivan, whose expression was anything but sane. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his clothing no longer stiff and crisp, and his hair was messy. Only Gilbert had ever seen him like this. Not even the man's two sisters had witnessed this side of Ivan, and they had lived with him far longer than the silverette had. It was unnerving, seeing the Russian like this. Something bad always happened afterwards, and it terrified Gilbert to think what.
"...Show me? How?"
The Soviet walked over to Gilbert slowly as not to scare him, and kneeled down, bringing his long fingers up to the man's naturally pale face and smiling.
"Quiet, Gilbert."
Before the man could respond, Ivan crushed his lips into Gilbert's, silencing him effectively. The smaller male tensed, not expecting the gentleness, but eventually decided that the coast was clear and kissed back hesitantly.
Ivan was never gentle, especially when kissing. He wanted to be in control at all times, and was not afraid of showing it. He was especially rough in the bedroom, skipping all the tender things that normal couples do and getting straight to the fucking. He would often just leave when he was done, whether his partner was finished or not, and not come back for more until a few days afterward. So why the sudden concern about not being rough? What was he planning?
Before the East German could come up with an answer to his own question, Ivan pulled away, chapped lips spreading into a grin. Gilbert almost whined, but caught himself at the last second and glared instead.
"You openly say you hate me and that I'm a monster, yet you are willing to kiss me?" the Russian shook his head in mock confusion. "You confuse me so much, Gilbert Beilschmidt. I do not understand you Germans - I never have, to be honest."
"I'm not German."
"Ah, excuse me. I do not understand Prussians." the words were whispered next to Gilbert's ear, making him shudder. "And I don't think I ever will."
Words escaped the former personification of Prussia as Ivan nuzzled his neck gently, the action tickling a little bit. Gilbert was then fully made aware that Ivan had both his knees on either side of his own and the Russian's forearms were pressed against the cold floor next to his ears. It was...strangely comfortable.
"You are allowed to speak, you know."
"I know, I know!" a blush spread across the albino's cheeks, trying to defend himself. "I just... You're distracting me."
"How so? I am just showing my affection."
"Well stop."
"Why?"
"Because... Jesus Christ, is this the fuckin' Spanish Inquisition?"
"You are not Spanish."
"No shit, Sherlock."
Ivan pulled his face away, brows knitted together in confusion. Gilbert forced down a smile and rolled his eyes.
"Nevermind."
"Alright, if you say so. Hey, Rabbit?"
"Weren't you in the middle of something?"
"Was I?"
"If you don't stop asking questions, I'm going to bash that stupid nose up into your skull."
"I apologize. But...I am quite hungry. Are you?"
"Is that a question?"
"Oh." Ivan thought for a moment, appearing cooperative for now. "Tell me if you are hungry."
"Better." Gilbert paused, pleased that he's in control. "Not really."
"Are you sure?"
Gilbert sighed loudly at the question, feeling of power dissipating into oblivion.
"Yes, Braginsky. I'm sure."
Ivan pursed his lips, standing once more.
"I will be right back. I think I know what I want to eat."
"Do you want a sticker or something for thinking? Don't narrate, just do."
Ivan grinned, bounding up the wooden stairs leading out of the basement. The albino sat up and listened as the footsteps got faint and a door closed with a quiet click. He had been locked down there while Ivan was diggging around upstairs. He could be up there for hours, damn it! Gilbert cursed under his breath, one chance of escape gone.
The quiet of the basement set his nerves on edge. He had never admitted it to anyone, but silence scared him more than anything. People wondered why he was always so loud, but no one noticed he was only loud when everything else wasn't. Something always had to be going on, even if it was just a conversation, or Gilbert feared he would go crazy.
Which is exactly why he had joined up with the Luftwaffe in World War 2. The hum of the plane's engine plus the chatter of his squad mates were a comfort, a sign that he wasn't alone. And when the machine guns on the wings of Königsberg - what he had named his Messerschmitt - fired at the enemy planes with a steady rattatattatat, the albino could have sworn he was in heaven.
Right when the beaten man was about to snap and limp up the stairs to try and claw at the door, pleading to be let out, the sound of a door opening and someone coming back down the stairs resounded. Gilbert didn't consider himself a very religious man anymore, but he silently thanked any deity that had given him some sound before he went crazy.
"Rabbit! I could not find anything that I desired." Ivan came into veiw, both hands behind his back.
"Bullshit. You have an entire grocery store in your kitchen."
"Yes, I know! But I could not find anything I wanted. Surprising, I know."
Gilbert couldn't help but stare at the arms that were suspiciously placed, and the Russian wasn't blind. So he brought it up.
"Ah, you want to know what is behind my back, da?"
"Da-...er, yeah."
Lavender eyes flashed mischieviously and their owner giggled as his hands moved into plain veiw. A sharp knife and fork were in gripped tightly in either hand, and Gilbert's ruby eyes slowly moved up to meet Ivan's.
"Y-you..."
"Da."
"Get the fuck away from me!" Gilbert yelled, panicking and kicking himself back into the wall nearby when he realized Ivan was completely serious. "You're not gonna eat me because of your own sick fetishes! I'm a god damn nation, for Christ's sake!"
"So you cannot die, Rabbit."
Gilbert went silent, looking like a deer in headlights. Ivan was right; he couldn't. Not easily, at least. The Russian could do whatever he wanted, and Gilbert would always come back. Suddenly Gilbert wished that the dissolution of East Prussia had killed him all those years ago. It would be better than getting mutilated at the hands of a psycho.
"Now this might hurt a little bit."
A soft giggle as Ivan moved closer, forcing Gilbert into a corner. The knife and fork gleamed threateningly in the dim lighting, making Gilbert scramble to his feet and scream at the top of his lungs for help. But due to the mistreatment from before, his voice gave out quickly, now only a raspy, slurred mess. He realized that was the plan all along as Ivan's orbs darkened again and he gave a toothy grin. The bastard.
"Hold still, Rabbit, and it won't hurt as much. I promise."
The Soviet lunged at Gilbert, who tried his best to dodge him, but a hand caught on his arm and forced him back against the wall forcefully when he tried to slip past the man. Then the knife being held in Ivan's right hand came down into Gilbert's leg, making him slide down the wall and land on the floor, mouth open in a silent yell.
"I wouldn't have had to do that if you had stayed still, Rabbit."
The larger man leaned in to kiss Gilbert's forehead, but the albino whipped his head forward to smash into Ivan's nose, knocking him back and forcing a yelp from his throat. Gilbert took the opportunity to hurriedly crawl away, using only one leg to help him propel himself, but the other would have none of it. Instead of letting his dinner get away, Ivan grabbed onto his waist tightly and pulled him back so Gilbert's ass was pressed against his crotch. This made the thin man below him stiffen, which he took advantage of by ripping the shirt off of the albino, biting down roughly into the pale, smooth back displayed in front of him.
Gilbert's hands clenched into fists and he tried to get away, but his struggle only made Ivan bite harder and eventually tear his head away and take that chunk of muscle and skin away with him. Tears rolled down light-skinned cheeks, trying to scream, to cry, to do anything except to give in. He knew that this wouldn't stop, though. That Ivan would keep going and refuse to take a break until he saw fit - which could be hours, possibly, maybe even a whole day.
Another chunk of flesh was ripped away from him, the pain unbearable. It was amazing to the East German that he was still conscious through this. He then made it his goal to try and bear it until passing out; to hell with the idea of calling for help. No one would dare to come down and help him, not when they would have to face the wrath of the insane Soviet currently fucking eating the poor man being held captive.
"Mm, you taste good, Rabbit! Hits the spot." Gilbert could practically hear the grin in his voice before his body offered him salvation and his eyes rolled back into his skull as his thin body went limp, vision fading into the darkness previously lining his eyesight. Ivan frowned at the new state of his Rabbit, but took another big bite out of the expanse of skin in front of his face.
He looked down at the three big, deep holes now in Gilbert's back, and noted that on one of them, he could almost have reached the bone. Suddenly he felt the need to finish what he started, and took the knife out of Gilbert's leg, letting the body drop to the floor with a dull thud. The man with the blood all over the bottom half of his face then used the sharp utensil to stab the deepest hole in Gilbert's lower back, turning it when he felt the littlest rib of his victim grind against the metal and turned it sideways, beginning to saw it up so he got a large fillet of skin and muscle plus little bone chips separated from that side.
As he fed on it, Ivan looked at the exposed ribs and part of the spinal cord, wondering if they would taste good also. Then he remembered that he actually did want Gilbert to live, so he shooed those thoughts away and focused on the rest of Gilbert's skin once he was done with the large piece of flesh in his hands. Doing the same to the other side of Gilbert's back, he admired the bone structure of his pet, wishing to see more but at the same time not wanting to go too far. Then again, as long as East Germany's people and culture remained...
Flipping Gilbert over after a while, Ivan smiled to himself, leaning down to plant a messy, bloody kiss on Gilbert's cheek.
"I love you, Rabbit." he mumbled, reaching his hand up and digging two fingers into Gilbert's left eye socket, then ripping them back out so his ruby-colored eye came with them. "...So, so much."
Gilbert woke with a start, in a dark room that he barely recognized as his own room in the Soviet household, quickly bringing his fingers to his left eye and feeling that it is indeed still there. Then he brushed his back against the sheets and felt his skin prickle.
"It was a dream...? But...but it seemed so real..." the albino mumbled to himself, checking to make sure everything else was in order with his body.
"Rabbit!"
Oh, God, not him. Not now.
The door to his room opened, making the East German squint against the light pouring in. But he could still make out that damn smile that he saw in...his...dream.
No. Please, no... God, no, no, no...
Dried blood surrounded the Russian's mouth, his teeth stained red. The substance also coated his uniform and his gloved hands, making him look like a butcher just emerged from the shredding room.
"I never did get to finish my meal, Gilbert."
As Gilbert screamed, Ivan shut the door so both of them were submerged in black, and giggled as he lunged.