A/N
LietRuss
This is a little oneshot from my vampire!APH AU series. You can read my fic "Death Becomes Him" to see how Ivan and Toris met, but it's not needed to understand this chapter at all. Full of Soviet tidbits of history with a supernatural flare. Notes at the bottom this time.
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Irkutsk was in full winter, the weather about twenty below at the moment. Fluffy white snow blanketed the tops of the city, white against the grey-black clouds of smoke which billowed upwards from many of the factories, blending into the night air. Industrialization had come to Irkutsk with the onset of the Soviet, and many things had been built by the 1950s. Unfortunately, an industrialized city meant more opportunity for disobedience in more subtle ways. Back in Moscow or Leningrad, they wouldn't have dared something like this. But as it was Toris had been sent way out here with his partner for a little problem. They'd faced a bloody battle a long while back, between the revolution and the loyalists. Now they were about to face another, smaller change.
Well, it was little to him. Toris sat on a snow covered bench in the park as he waited for his said partner, his hair frizzed from the low moisture content here, sticking out from the furry hat that he wore in a somewhat unruly mess. Heavy coat, big boots for the snow, and gloves on his hands kept him from the cold he didn't feel. A cigarette dangled from those gloved fingers, its smoke trailing lazily up into the air. Just as he lifted it towards his lips, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. With a quick curse he jumped up, dropping the cigarette, his hand moving for the gun under his coat. What he beheld was a laughing man, very under dressed for the weather.
"Oh Litva, you really are so jumpy!" He chuckled; ice blue eyes narrow in amusement as he reached up to sweep his hand through his dirty-blond hair. The man was dressed in a black sweater and black pants, boots just as heavy as Toris'. However his pale hands wore no gloves, and he wore no jacket or hat. Of course there was no red on his nose or ears from the cold—he couldn't feel the cold either. "Why were you smoking anyway? You can't taste the nicotine."
"You're an idiot, tovarich Chernov." Toris muttered. "I'm keeping up appearances of course. And you should too! Put a jacket on at least."
"Why?" The other vampire mused, waving a small newspaper in his left hand. "They already know about us you know. They tell their little kiddies how we NKVD* monsters creep into naughty children's bedrooms and snatch them away!" His partner made a clawing motion with his hands. Toris was not amused, huffing as he fixed his own coat. Naturally, his breath didn't release a puffy cloud into the cold air. It was the one thing he couldn't fake. "Wow, you really are no fun. It's not like anyone's out at this time of the night anyway."
"Tovarich—"
"You're a real stickler to the rules, aren't you?" Chernov's expression was sad now. "Oh, I know why," He waved his hand. "Protecting someone. Of course I know." Oh and hadn't that been an interesting conversation?
'I'm here because of my lover.'
'A troublemaker? What's her name?'
'….'
"At least call me Sergei, like I ask you every ten minutes." Sergei, as he much preferred to be called, hadn't cared at all that Toris' lover was a man. In fact he seemed interested, as homosexuality was something no one wanted to flaunt. It was said that Stalin especially hated them. Toris was a trustworthy partner, and that was all that was all that mattered to Sergei. "Oh, I know what will put a smile on your face!"
"Please don't." Toris groaned, expecting nothing good from this. "We're working." He reminded his easily distracted partner. But Sergei shook his head.
"No no, this is work!" He protested, holding up the paper. "Here on this page are some anekdoty." Toris' green eyes widened a little.
"You found the press?"
"Shhh shh! Let me finish!" Sergei complained, and Toris sighed as he crossed his arms. He wasn't going to get anything out of his partner until he did. Sergei cleared his throat. "Word has it that in Moscow the People's Commissioner has ordered that, due to the fuel shortage, that all thermometers are to be set four degrees higher!" He grinned, looking to Toris.
"…That's silly. Can you even set a thermometer higher?"
"Are you serious?" Sergei groaned. "Alright, alright. How about this one? Eh-hem! A teacher asks his class, 'Who is your mother and who is your father?' A young pupil replies, 'My mother is Russia and my father is Stalin.' The teacher says 'Very good. And what would you like to be when you grow up?' to which the pupil replies, 'An orphan.'" Now Toris' eyes widened a little.
"That's bold of them to print." Of course the small group that they were after had been distributing these kinds of papers for over a year now without being caught, and they had gotten overconfident and so more brash.
"One more, just one more." Sergei was smiling, and Toris had no protest this time. He heard these at home from Ivan all the time, after all. "What's the difference between Stalin and Roosevelt?"
"Oh no…" Toris finally smiled. Comparison between Stalin and any Capitalist was always good.
"Roosevelt collects the jokes that people write about him. Stalin collects the people who write jokes about him!" Sergei was chuckling, and Toris covered his mouth as he laughed. He did have a sense of humor; it was just hard to laugh when he knew such a grim task was ahead of him. But sometimes, you had to laugh. If you didn't then it all became too real, and then how did you go on? As if to remind them of their true purpose here, the two jumped at the sound of a small crash. Glancing over, they saw that it was only a drunk stumbling over a trashcan in the park. With a heavy sigh, Toris swept off his hat.
"Show me the way."
Moments later the two stood atop the roof of a small factory, staring across at the third floor of another, bigger factory. There were lights on in there, and you could see the shapes of several people through the fogged glass. Four by Toris' count, and Sergei confirmed it. Nodding to one another, they drew out their guns. With a deep breath of cold air that he didn't need, Toris jumped. The distance wasn't far; the buildings were right next to one another. Four bullets into the thick glass in front of him was more than enough to send it shattering to pieces when he hit it, arms covering his face. Beside him he heard Sergei break through the other window. The each rolled to the side as the shouts of alarm started, coming up into a kneel. The sound of gunshots in the mostly empty space were painfully loud, drowning out the screams for a moment. The lights went out one by one, extinguished by the bullets.
The second that the gunshots stopped, all was dark. The door hadn't opened, and so all suspects were still present. Standing up, Toris let his eyes adjust to the dark. "Don't move!" He called out firmly, moving to holster his gun. "You are all under arrest for the unlawful distribution of—" BANG, a loud shot rang out again, and Toris reeled as he felt something slam into his shoulder. "Pošimts!" He nearly hissed, dropping his gun as his other hand came up to press over the wound. Another shot rang out, and he heard a human man shout in pain. Had they missed a fifth?
"I think you heard my friend!" Sergei's irritated voice shouted, "Now drop it or the next one's through your head!" Toris could see the shapes of humans now, his eyesight kicking in with the rush of the natural instinct for self preservation. There was a clatter as the gun dropped, and Sergei was moving to collect it. Toris bent to retrieve his own gun, lifting it with his left hand and putting it back in the holster. "Get over there with the others!" Sergei grabbed the man's shoulder, jerking him towards where everyone else had ducked down. "Are you alright?" He glanced over to Toris.
"Of course. It stings like hell though…" He frowned, pulling away his coat to see that he was still bleeding. "…Silver? Seriously?" At this Sergei laughed.
"Do they think we're weres*?"
"Just get them cuffed." Toris sighed, pulling out his own pairs.
The smell of blood was thick in the room now, thanks to the wounded human. Sergei had shot him in the shoulder to compensate for Toris' own wound, but that only made it worse for the two vampires. At least Toris thought so. Once all of the men were cuffed together, they got a better look at them. Their ages were from late forties to mid twenties, though the youngest seemed to be only about seventeen. He didn't look much younger than Toris did. They secured them all to the small printing press that they had been using to print their 'treasonous' paper on.
The building was a small newspaper business, a privately owned one. Naturally the owner would be… questioned, but it looked as if this was a small and independently run instance. Some of these men probably worked here and took advantage of the business' machines. Toris and Sergei left the room to sit in the hall, where Toris slipped off his coat. His shirt was next, wincing as he lifted it over his head. Sergei grabbed his flashlight, turning it on and holding it in his teeth as he reached out to touch the area around the wound. "Is no' 'at 'ad." He muttered around the flashlight, and Toris sighed.
"Get it out." He stated, slipping off his glove and lifting it up to bite. Both vampires' fangs were visible right now, the scent of blood and need to fight made that inescapable. He felt his fangs rip into the glove even as he bit, leaning against the wall of the hall. Sergei nodded, one hand keeping Toris' shoulder flat against the wall while he shook his other hand. Lifting two fingers, he pressed at the edges of the wound. Toris arched a little as they slid in, essentially making the hole larger. Fists clenched into his pants, and he groaned in pain as they slid deeper into it.
Silver was a nasty thing, even for vampires. They weren't allergic to it like the weres were, but it did affect something in their chemistry. Wounds made with silver didn't heal as fast as other ones, usually requiring fresh blood to heal up completely. Toris' wound had stopped bleeding, but now it had started to again. Sergei was undeterred by the sounds of his partner's pain, set in his task. "I 'ot it!" He said suddenly, and Toris closed his eyes as he felt those fingers move. They were sliding out suddenly, and a small silver bullet was dropped to the floor. Just as Toris glanced to it, Sergei was moving in close.
"Ah—Sergei—!" Toris' hand rose to tangle into that short blond hair as he felt that cool tongue over his wound, catching the blood which had fallen. But a moment later there was a warm feeling, and Toris closed his eyes and shuddered. Sergei had cut his tongue on his own fang, letting his fresh blood start to heal the wound. It wouldn't be healed completely, but on the outside it would be. When his partner pulled back, Toris let go of his hair. "Thank you." He murmured, relaxing all at once.
"You're starving yourself." Sergei frowned.
"That's none of your business." Toris said with a small mutter. He picked up his shirt, turning away from him. Sergei's gaze moved to the other vampire's back, never ceasing to be amazed. The scars there were all mismatched. On his right shoulder blade there was a burn, where as in other places there was what looked like lashes or cuts. Some of them, Sergei couldn't even imagine what had caused them. They didn't disfigure the Lithuanian's back. He couldn't quite explain it, but they were almost an accent. Not many vampires had been scared after their rebirth and lived to speak of it.
The truth of them was bitter and grim, and because of them Toris was often hated by his own kind here in the Soviet, even some of those associated with their hidden division of the NKVD. They were a sign that he had been through the genocide and experimentation of their kinds by the Nazis, and he had lived to tell about it. Telling about it was the key phrase here. In order to join the Soviet military, Toris would have been forced to divulge all he had learned about the weakness of his kind. He would have had to relive his tortures verbally so that he didn't face to face them again physically. But if he hadn't done this…
Toris' shirt came down over his back to cover it, and he flipped his hair out of his turtleneck collar. Picking up his coat as he stood, he slid it back on and glanced down to Sergei. "Are you going to sit there all night?" He asked with one raised eyebrow.
"Nope, I was just thinking." Sergei said as he stood.
"Of what?"
"A phone. We'll need to call in, and I bet one of these rooms has one. Go and look for one while I keep an eye on the prisoners."
"Alright." Toris agreed, heading for another room as Sergei stepped back into the printing room. Toris opened the door across the hall, giving it a quick glance. Seeing no phone, he closed it and headed for another. A ways down the hall, he set his hand on another door handle.
Bang-bang-bang, bang! The sound of gunshots rang out through the hall, and Toris' ears rang. His inhuman speed had him in front of the door of the printing room in seconds. Sergei stood in the light of only his flashlight, aiming the gun at the fifth prisoner. "Stop!" Toris shouted, dashing forward to grab his comrade's wrist and push it aside. "Why?" He asked, green eyes still a bit wide. Though he wasn't even looking at Sergei, but at the four bodies on the floor. The fifth and final prisoner was the youngest, who sat on his knees with his head bowed, sobbing and praying at the same time. He was splattered with the blood of his fellow prisoners, tears leaving streaks down his dirty face.
"You really think they'll want to live?" Sergei asked without emotion. Toris felt his eyes stinging, blurring his vision with red.
"That's not for you to decide! They deserve a chance!"
"In the gulags?" One blond eyebrow rose, and Sergei's voice changed a little. Toris' expression showed his distress. Glancing back to the youngest boy, he felt his non-beating heart wrench in pain. Taking a hold of his shoulder, he pushed the boy back a little so that he looked up.
"Do you want to live?" He asked desperately. But the youth's eyes only widened, his lower lip trembling.
"Demon." The prisoner murmured. "May God strike you down where you stand! You can't take my soul." Toris reached up when he felt a wetness on his face, fingers stained with blood when he pulled them back. Damn it all, he'd actually let a tear fall. Standing up again, he licked at his fingertips. The look of disgust and horror on the boy's face was all too obvious, and Toris turned his back.
"…Do what you will." He said quietly to his partner, moving over towards the broken windows. Bang, the last shot rang out, and Toris jolted his shoulders when he heard it. The wind coming in was cold, carrying with it the freshly falling snow. Glass crunched under his boots, and he came to stand right at the edge. The scent of blood had filled the room completely, and he relished the fresh air. Sergei was coming to join him soon enough and he gave the man a glance. "You're not going to drink from them?"
"The blood dies too quickly. Besides, I'm not hungry. You're the starving one. You should see your face; you're white as a ghost. No wonder he thought you were a demon!"
"I think the blood streaming from my eyes was enough." Toris said, wiping his eyes again. They were both silent for a while, enjoying the silence which had fallen over them. After a while, Sergei spoke up quietly.
"If it hurts you so much, why do you do it? Is your human so worth this?" Toris didn't hesitate to answer, though he did give pause to think on his answer.
"…You saw the scars on my back?"
"I've seen them plenty."
"Ivan saved me from that. Without him, I would have been burned with the rest of us held captive. The Nazis wanted to cover up all of their experiments, both human and inhuman. Most of us only feed to live, and even less of us kill to do that. The so-called 'doctors' who did the experiments did so to satisfy their own morbid curiosity. Who do you think the real demons are?" Toris asked. "Ivan and I had a fight before the war. He believed in the Bolsheviks; he wanted the revolution. I didn't. Despite what you see of me now, I'm a patriot for my own country. I fought for it back in the days of swords and warriors. I feared the oppression of Lithuania again—and I was right."
"You really are Litva then."
"Anekdote."
"What's a joke?"
"I am. I chose Ivan over my country, because he chose me. It's not the first time we've risked our lives for one another. When Ivan ended up in the gulags for civil disobedience I only had one choice to get him out." Toris smiled a little.
"You could escape."
"I can't take that chance. If we were caught…" Toris shuddered, closing his eyes. "It would be the end of us both. To keep him alive and safe, and to spare myself, I'll keep doing this." Sergei mulled this over for a moment before he gave a sigh, reaching in to his coat.
"I've been wanting to ask you that for over twenty years you know. Thank you for telling me." A letter was pulled from the inside pocket of his coat. He held it out to Toris who took it with a slight frown.
"What's this?"
"It came for you before we headed out to take care of this." Sergei rubbed at the back of his head. Toris opened the letter, reading it over.
Comrade Laurinaitis,
We regret to inform you that your housemate Ivan Braginsky has been arrested for suspicion of treasonous actions. Under the circumstances provided to us, he will be held in a local facility until your return. Please collect him at your earliest convenience.
It wasn't signed, but it was dated. Toris' eyes widened. "This is postmarked for four days ago!" He shot his partner an accusing look, and Sergei's hands rose.
"It just came, I swear! I got it today! I just didn't want you distracted from this mission. Go tonight, you can still catch a flight before morning and be back in Moscow by tomorrow evening. I'll take care of the wrap up here." He gestured behind him. Toris was frowning a little, but he couldn't argue. He made to jump, but Sergei held out his hand. "One more question!"
"What is it?" Toris asked hurriedly.
"Why did Ivan change his mind about the Soviet reform?"
"Ach," Toris waved his hand. "I can never understand why he does half of the things he does. Something about loving music, poetry, and jokes too much. He didn't know that he would lose so many freedoms. And believe me, he feels guilty every day that I have a job. But it doesn't stop him from being who he is, and I wouldn't want it to. I love him, Sergei. I hope that someday you can understand that kind of love."
"I hope not." Sergei grinned. "Now go, and give him a good swat for me will you? He steals my tovarich Litva away early all the time." He chuckled, and Toris flustered a little.
"You've no chance; I like my lovers warm-blooded, with hearts still beating. Preferably type O negative." Toris jumped before he could get a reply, but he caught a glimpse of Sergei's mock-dramatic expression.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The flight back to Moscow had actually taken half a day to get. The sunlight left Toris groggy and weakened, but he pushed through it. At least he'd gotten to sleep on the plane. Waking him up was a bit of a chore once they'd arrived in Moscow, but these men were used to dealing with vampires. He waited until the sun had almost fallen to head to the holding facility reserved mostly for low profile prisoners as they awaited sentencing. Ivan was a frequent guest there. Staying out of direct sunlight saved Toris the condition known as sunsickness. It was a troublesome condition which caused reddening of the skin, weakness, and the all over appearance of illness. If exposed long enough, the sun would burn through the skin to the muscle tissue and blood, which was rather… flammable, you see. But that could take hours, depending on age.
Toris was in full uniform now, red-star insignia on his hat displayed openly. He was addressed by name when he entered, one of the men only giving a nod before he moved into the back. Another of the men looked a little sheepish. "I should warn you tovarich Laurinaitis, there was a bit of a scuffle yesterday. Tovarich Braginsky got the other prisoners a bit riled up by singing. It took about seven of us to settle things down." Toris frowned. He knew what that meant. It had taken about seven men to control Ivan, the human who was already large, and strengthened by a vampire's blood—though they didn't know that last part.
"Toris!" Ivan's voice sang out, and the Lithuanian turned his head. Eyes widened a little to see the Russian's state of appearance. Clothes which hadn't been changed for days, his hair mussed, a cut above his right eyebrow and at the left corner of his lips, and finally a bruise on his right cheekbone. As soon as they un-cuffed him, he hurried over to Toris to take his hand. "I didn't resist in the cell you know, they did this anyway." Ivan sent the men a glare, but they only glared back.
"Yes Ivan, I know." Toris soothed, patting that hand holding his own. "Come on," He urged, "Let's go home." Ivan nodded in agreement, following his lover without hesitation. It had been a week since they had seen each other after all, and they never knew when Toris would be sent away again. They had a car, another perk of Toris' job, and so thankfully they didn't have to waste time walking. The building they lived in was a general apartment, and they managed to get away with only the two of them living together. Toris needed darkness during the day, and they didn't want his secret getting out.
Ivan didn't let go of Toris the entire time that they walked up the many stairs to their apartment, getting several looks from others. Everyone assumed that Toris was just another military man, working on suspicious things at night. Ivan they knew to be a bit of a rebel, which confused them to no end. They barely made it into the door before Ivan was on him. Pressing Toris back against the wall, Ivan leaned down for a kiss. Toris' hands came up to tangle into that short blond hair, arching up to groan into their lip-lock. Ivan's tongue traced the crease of his lips, and Toris opened them quickly. He'd barely kept his fangs from sight on the way up, and they were rather noticeable now. Ivan's skillful tongue traced them dangerously before he quite purposefully pressed up into one.
"Mmmh…" Toris groaned a bit louder with pleasure as that sweet blood filled his mouth, swallowing greedily. After a week of starving himself, this was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted in his life. He gave that tongue a gentle suction, and now it was Ivan who shuddered and gave a whine of pleasure. But oh, he couldn't drink too much like this. The tongue could bleed quite freely, and he didn't want to take too much from it. Cutting his own tongue with his fang, he tangled it with Ivan's again. Ivan swallowed that blood as his tongue burned and tingled, healing up. Toris broke the kiss when he felt Ivan's heart beating quickly at the lack of air. Ivan panted against his lips, his face flushed. The blood had healed the split corner of his lips as well.
"Shower. Then you can have me. Ah, I've missed you…" Another kiss, a moan from them both.
"Hurry." Toris urged, and Ivan didn't need to be told twice. Clothing littered the hallway all the way to the bathroom as Ivan stripped, and Toris followed it like a trail. The shower turned on, and Toris himself began to strip. He didn't sweat, but he gathered dirt like anyone else, especially his hair. Besides, he'd never cleaned properly after being wounded, and after everything that had happened, he felt dirty. He was bare by the time he crept silently into the bathroom, opening the curtain with a jerk. Ivan only smiled, as he'd been fully expecting this. Toris stepped in under the blissfully hot spray of water, giving a little gasp. He pressed against his lover, which pressed Ivan back against the wall.
"Ah, cold…" Ivan stated in surprise. Toris felt a jolt of shame then, his expression falling as he stepped back at once.
"S-sorry." He murmured, turning to leave the shower. Ivan disliked the cold normally, he should have known better than to touch him after a week without feeding, as well as being in the winter air for days. But arms wound around his waist, pulling him back against that body which was just as hot as the water falling over them. Lips left a trail of kisses up along Toris' neck, reaching his jaw.
"I didn't say it was bad… I'm burning up." Ivan whispered into his ear, and Toris smiled. Turning back around, he reached up to pull Ivan down into another kiss.
They washed each other slowly, each slippery touch teasing and sweet, drawing out more than a few shudders or moans from one another. Naturally they lingered on the most sensitive of areas, working each other up under that hot spray. They could barely part when it came time to get out—once the water was growing cold. Stepping out onto the rug on the floor of the bathroom, Ivan nearly slipped. Toris chuckled as he caught him, tugging his hand towards the bedroom.
Damp bodies fell onto the bed together, hair still dripping wet. Toris loved the scent that was rising from Ivan's skin slowly, once the scent of soap had begun to fade. In its place came the light musk of sweat, and he buried his nose into Ivan's neck to enjoy it in full. In turn, Ivan loved the absence of that scent on his lover's skin. Perhaps he had been biased from the start, ever since those cold lips had touched the skin of his arm that night, and he'd buried his face into that pale and scentless neck. Toris hadn't carried a scent of death, of plague.*
Toris came to rest between his lover's thighs, which held his hips tightly. Their arousals touched, rubbed, evicting low groans from them both. Toris' tongue ran up along the side of Ivan's neck, tasting his blood through his skin. That vein was pulsing, begging to be bitten. Or maybe that was just Ivan begging, turning his head to the side, hand coming up to tangle into Toris' hair at the back of his head to press him into his throat. "Prasau, prasau Toris!" Ivan pleaded with him. How could he resist his lover's voice, his body? Ivan lifted his hips as if to accentuate just what the thought alone was doing to him, and Toris groaned against his neck.
Fangs pierced through skin easily, and Ivan had to keep from arching entirely, or Toris couldn't reach his neck. His other hand came to press against Toris' back, spreading his fingers out over those scars. Toris used to be paranoid that Ivan would reject him because he wasn't 'perfect' anymore, but the Russian had loved him just as much as he ever had. Panting heavily, Ivan felt that deliciously stinging suction on his neck. It always made him a little lightheaded, euphoric; there was no better feeling in this world. Well, there was one… But that would take place in just a moment.
"Ah taip, taip, mano… mano meile…" Ivan's heightened and breathless voice gasped. The shift to Lithuanian always gave Toris a thrill, a comfort at the use of his language. Toris stopped before he took enough to make Ivan's body lose that dear erection of his, cutting his own tongue again to heal the vein. "Hurry, hurry Toris!" Ivan urged, heels pressing onto the backs of Toris' thighs. It was clear which way he wanted to do it this time.
Leaning over to the bedside table, he opened it to grab the tube inside. Opening it quickly, he squeezed it out onto his fingers. He had to pull back to lower them between Ivan's very willfully spread legs. "Ha, aahh…" Ivan closed his eyes, pressing his head back into the pillow as two fingers pressed slowly into him. It was a bit of a stretch, but his body was more than accepting right now. He breathed evenly and deeply to keep himself relaxed, no matter how excited that he was! Toris wiggled his fingers; thrust them back and forth testingly. Leaning down, his lips found one nipple to suck and nip at, drawing more cries from Ivan, who ran his fingers through the vampire's wet hair in appreciation. The third finger was added soon after, and not long after Ivan was begging again.
Toris was just as eager. He pulled them back to add a bit more lubricant to his fingers, spreading it over his arousal quickly. Ivan's thighs were holding tightly to Toris' sides again as he moved up into position. If Toris was human, that grip of Ivan's strong thighs probably would have been painfully tight. Toris bit his lower lip as he began to slide inside of that hot, very hot body, fangs digging into his lower own lip. Ivan's own lips hung open in a groan that was silent at first, but as his heels came to press the Lithuanian on, he gave his first real cry.
"Dieve mano…" Toris' shuddering voice groaned once he was fully inside. It was true that Ivan disliked the cold, but the temperature difference was something he loved for sex. He could heat Toris' body slowly with his own, and besides, since he hated to sweat it kept him from overheating quite so much. And afterwards, Toris was covered in his own scent since the vampire had none of his own.
"Move, oh, move Toris…" Ivan panted. Toris gave a smile, his chest rising and falling in the mimicry of heavy breath. He did it naturally in times like this, picking up on Ivan's excitement and gasping for air he didn't need. Ivan found the sight and sounds of it amazing, as if he brought Toris to life each time they were joined like this.
Toris' thrusts were heavy and deep, stronger than his deceivingly smaller body seemed capable of. People called vampires dead, but how could they be? Their blood did not flow, this was true. But they lived. They were more than just animated; they could do this—become aroused without the blood flow they should require. Even after all he had been through, all the knowledge that Toris had gained about his own kind, he still had no idea what kept him going.
Except for this. Nothing made him feel more alive than being with Ivan. Every breath of his lover's he shared, every heart beat, every pleasured cry. They really should have gone slower for their first time after a week, but Ivan was begging, and Toris was more than willing to give. Whispers of sweet nothings, desperate cries, Ivan's nails biting into Toris' back, the press of his heels on the backs of his thighs, and the damp sound of their slapping skin, what more proof of life was there? Toris took up Ivan's erection in his still-slick hand, and his lover gave a grateful cry for it. They tried their best to keep their voices down, walls thin and neighbors nosy and suspicious. They'd been reported twice already, and Toris had angrily told his bosses that Ivan, his human, got loud when he was fed on. He hadn't been lying.
Ivan was the first to reach his climax, giving quite the careless cry of pleasure as he came. Well, there went not being reported for the third time. Toris didn't once stop his thrusts, though he did lean over again. His hand grasped around in the table's drawer desperately until he found them, grasping the item and pressing it into Ivan's hand. Ivan slipped it into his mouth without hesitation. Plastic lining around the top of his teeth, all the way to the back of his molars, not unlike a retainer. But near the front of his mouth there were two polished metal incisors, lengthened to resemble a vampire's fangs. It was actually a tool that vampire hunters used to use to feed on the creatures that they hunted, drinking their blood for strength and to prolong their own lives.
Bending his back, Ivan grasped a hold of Toris' neck and shoulders, bringing his face to his neck. Only then did Toris' thrusts lighten up a little, biting his lip in anticipation. The sharp bite of those pseudo fangs piercing his skin brought out a high and blissful cry from the vampire, his entire body giving shudder. Ivan sealed his warm lips over the punctures he'd made, sucking firmly. "Ooooh, oh, ah, taip—taip, j-just a little more…!" Toris pleaded desperately. Ivan felt the cut above his eye healing with the bruise on his cheekbone, as well as several other bruises and wounds. And finally he felt Toris' body jolt and shudder in climax, the Lithuanian giving his own cry of release. He licked at the wounds which were already healing, swallowing down the last of that thick, rich blood.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
They lay together after Ivan had caught his breath, the pseudo fangs resting on the table, skin slowly getting a chance to dry. Like he'd wanted, Toris now carried Ivan's scent. Toris' blood was coursing through him, a welcome relief from his aches and pains. He was healthy again, and starving. They never fed him much but once a day in the prisons. But right now he couldn't bring himself to break away from the now warm vampire next to him. Toris wasn't hot like Ivan was right now, but he was no longer cool to the touch. Well, not cold anyway. Against Ivan's body he was still a bit colder.
Ivan ran his fingers through Toris' hair slowly, holding the vampire against him. It was painful to go these days and weeks without him some times. He knew that Toris would come home if Ivan was in trouble—and he really tried to keep out of it. But if he was too lonely, or too restless, he had to go out. As if reading his mind, Toris spoke up quietly. "I ought to… burn all your clothes." Ivan smiled.
"Mn, Toris is perverted." Ivan teased. Toris pinched his side and he gave a squeak of protest. He hated his sides touched!
"To keep you inside while I'm gone!" Toris clarified, and Ivan chuckled.
"But then how could I stand in line for food and things like toilet paper?" His voice was mockingly worried, and Toris gave a huff. He loved that Toris did those things—sighed and huffed like a human to express himself. Toris tried so hard to pretend, even though Ivan loved him for everything that he was, he'd fallen for Toris because he wasn't human!
"Turn onto your stomach for a moment."
"Why?" Ivan raised one eyebrow.
"Just do it for me."
"I told you Toris was perverted." Ivan teased, untangling from Toris reluctantly to lie on his stomach. Smack! Toris' palm came down on one full cheek of Ivan's backside, leaving a hand-shaped red mark at once. "Ow!" Ivan rolled away quickly; lying on his side facing Toris as he reached back to rub away that sting. "Isn't it a little late to punish me for getting arrested?" He asked with a small frown.
"That wasn't to punish you, that was a request. Though I suppose I should punish you…" Toris smiled.
"A request from who? And being away from you is punishment enough." Ivan nearly pouted, and Toris was trapped. He couldn't ever resist that voice and that face both together.
"I-I guess you're right…" He sighed. "As to whom it was from… It doesn't matter. I wanted to do it." Toris admitted with another smile, and Ivan moved over to pull his lover close again, nuzzling into his neck.
"All you had to do was ask nicely." Ivan teased now, and Toris shuddered from the hot breath on his neck.
"Mmm, what I want right now is to take another shower and sleep… I stayed up almost all day to get you out of prison. I'll cook you something before I go to bed though." Toris murmured, though right now he really didn't want to move.
"Will Toris cook while naked?" Ivan asked with a hopeful voice. Toris laughed a little.
"Who's the perverted one now?"
"I never pretended I wasn't, it's you who won't admit it." Ivan defended as Toris closed his eyes. The Russian moved away carefully, pulling the sheets down from under his lover to lie back down beside him and cover them both up. "So much for the shower and food." Ivan sighed softly. It wasn't like he wanted to move anyway, pulling his lover back into his arms. His fingers traced the scars of Toris' back, reminding himself that this was Toris' choice. Ivan couldn't fight for something he didn't believe in, but Toris could. Ivan had saved Toris from those terrible experiments and nursed him back to health. And in turn when Ivan had been thrown into the gulags, his lover had given up everything to come after him.
Ivan wished they could stay in bed together forever, he and his precious vampire. All that he could do was ease Toris' mind while he was at home with him, build him back up for when he had another job that would dampen his spirit a little more.
They were saying that another revolution would come eventually, one of jokes and music, and freedom of speech.
Ivan thought that it couldn't come fast enough.
l
l
The concept of Russia the character during the Soviet is something I had debated, and I think personally that he would vary between loving the Soviet to hating it, just like his people did. So I wanted to show Ivan in this AU as feeling the more rebellious side.
*NKVD: The People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs was the public and secret police organization of the Soviet Union that directly executed the rule of power of the Soviets, including political repression, during the era of Joseph Stalin. (Predecessor to the KGB)
*Pošimts, A Lithuanian expression.
*I was going to say werewolves, but then I thought all were's were probably sensitive to silver. Also were is a weird word since it looks like were. If you're not confused I commend you. XD