A/n:I imagine Yao and Ivan dancing to a song similar to "I've Got to See You Again" by Norah Jones. Please listen to it to get into the mood ^^
The noise in the room was sickeningly loud. Somewhere, his straining nerves picked up a high pitched laughter, the sound of it grated against his throbbing skull. Perfume from the ladies overwhelmed his senses and nauseated him. The crush of the crowd made it hard to breathe. He felt suffocated, confined.
China scanned the ballroom, looking for his escape. If he had to endure this sham of a party a second longer, he would kill himself.
There, at last, he spotted his reprieve.
Only a few feet away from him, he spotted an empty balcony. Urgency replacing his sense of propriety, he elbowed his way past dancing couples and smoking gentlemen, no longer caring about his image or appearance. Just one step out into the clearance and it was enough that welcomed fresh air fanned over his heated face
Tired from the festivities of the day, China leaned against the cool, marble railing, a sigh of blessed relief leaving his lips. He inhaled deeply, the cold night air sharp and crisp on his tongue. Slowly, he exhaled, his breath barely visible against the backdrop of the black, starry sky. His eyes fell closed and tension slowly melted away from his body.
"I take it you don't like the party?"
China stiffened as he recognized the voice behind him. As usual, and with increasing frequency, a sensation like lightening shot down his spine. A mixture of frustration and lust pooled low in his stomach, creating a familiar heat that ached for release.
The man's voice, sweet and intimate, was enough to send his body into a fevered pitch.
Careful to remain impassive, China half-turned to eye the nation standing behind him. His heart thudded loudly against his ribcage, screaming and beating a name inside him, but he played his part well, giving nothing more than a lukewarm greeting to the other nation. "Hello, Russia."
At the cool response, Russia laughed, his laughter enveloping China's body like spun silk. It was soft and delicate, but most of all, it felt oh-so-sinfully good against his parched skin. "Oh, don't sound so distant now. Call me Ivan. After all, we are friends…," It was unavoidable, the caress of his voice resonated through him, inside him. It touched where he dreamed nightly leather gloved hands touched, "…aren't we, Yao?"
The sudden dipping of Russia's voice, the huskiness of it skimmed over his body. It was all China could do to turn away from the tantalizing mouth, biting his own lips to stop the whimper of need from escaping. "We're not friends, Russia," he whispered, his skin still sensitive and tingling though Russia laid not even a finger on him, "We're only allies."
Russia took a step closer. "Really?"
His whispered word stroked China's skin with its unspoken promise. He could see the Russian's eyes darkening from desire, leaving no room what he meant nor what he wanted from him.
China opened his mouth to speak, denial on the tip of his tongue when suddenly distant notes of a piano floated out into the balcony. Slow and seductive, the haunting melody of the piano shushed the chattering guests. The music played over the crowd in a smooth, velvety rhythm. Then, like a practiced lover inviting his mistress to bed, a woman's dark, husky voice accompanied the intoxicating song.
For a moment, Russia closed his eyes as he listened to the woman's voice paint a scene of satin sheets and tangled limbs. As she drew out her words like she was savoring the lingering sweetness of the lyrics, Russia opened his eyes to smile lazily at China. He held out a hand towards the smaller nation and bowed. "Would you like to dance?"
It's a mistake he'll regret, of that China was certain. Despite his trepidation, the temptation was simply too great. The song was seducing him; he was unable to break the spell the singer casted over him. She and the pianist opened up his inhibition, his secret desire. Russia was a delectable treat he longed to devour and without meaning to, China found himself closing the distance between their bodies. He didn't even realize what he was doing, how far gone he was, until he saw his own hand slip into Russia's shyly.
Shocked to find they were suddenly so close, China began to pull away, about to deny them both this even simple pleasure of a dance.
"Don't." Russia laid a firm, but gentle hand onto his lower back.
The thought of walking away, saying some harsh words crossed his mind. How easy it would've been to break this delicate moment and yet it was just equally easy to be swept away by it all- the sweet scent of the larger man's cologne, the crowd drowned out by the music, all obligations and duties forgotten. China allowed himself to be pulled in, closer and closer until every inch of their bodies touched.
Russia's hand found their way to his slender hips. Slowly, slowly they swayed to the rhythm of the music, the sensual voice of the singer transporting them to a world where only the two of them existed. Russia's warm breath teased the sensitive exposed skin of his neck.
"Cold?" Russia whispered the question into China's ear when he felt the smaller nation shiver in his arms.
Wordlessly, China shook his head. Far from cold, he was burning from Russia's touch, his heat seeping through the few strips of clothes that separated their naked skin, but it was a pain he enjoyed. A delicious type of agony that left him with an aching emptiness that needed to be filled.
Their body pressed against one another, fitting perfectly like broken halves that make a whole. Uninvited though not unwelcomed, China tilted his head upward with a breathless sigh.
Obligingly Russia bent forward. Their breaths mingled, lips almost touched- a hairsbreadth away from kissing-but at the last moment Russia turned his head to the side, rejecting what was offered to him. Disappointment quickly dissipating, China gasped in silence as Russia skimmed lovingly the outline of his neck, his collarbone. He could feel Russia breathe against him, his breath hot on his skin, but not once could he feel the delectable mouth kiss his body.
The song was reaching its end. The tempo suddenly changed. Faster. Harder. Russia shifted their position and China had to bite back a groan as the Russian's fingers brushed briefly against the top of his buttocks. The blonde's leg slipped between his own and slid dangerously close against the proof of his desire. China grabbed hold of Russia's forearm and held on for clarity, for dear life, as the singer sang the last note into the air.
Thunderous applause by the guests met the end of the performance. Alone out in the terrace, the sound of their own panting drowned out all other noises. Arms and legs tangled, their bodies pressed scandalously close in a lover's embrace. For a few lingering seconds, they held one another in complete silence before reluctantly parting.
Their attraction to each other was painfully palpable to Russia. He could practically taste their lust on his tongue, but watching the person of his desire fidget in front of him, he knew China was on the verge of denying the obvious yet again.
"Thank you for the lovely dance, Yao," Russia said with a sad smile. He kissed China's hand lightly. "I hope we can have a chance to do this again, comrade."
Lost for words, or rather afraid to speak or lest he betray himself, China mutely nodded his head. He turned to leave without even so much as a goodbye.
"Did you know?" Russia's voice floated to him just as he reached the double doors. It held China where he stood as if he loathed to leave and wanted to find whatever excuse to stay longer. "Dancing is a lot like making love. A dance is about two bodies moving as one to the same rhythm. It requires chemistry, understanding, and the perfect fit to each other's bodies for the dance to be mesmerizing. It lets people know whether their bodies are compatible for sex."
Russia smiled to China's back, knowing the other nation could hear the amusement in his voice. "Don't you find that interesting, Yao? I wonder what our dance says about us."
China walked off without answering, the sound of Russia's laughter following after him.
A/n:
Random Rant
This fic was inspired by the song "Sway" 2-3 years ago. I wanted to write a sensual fic where dancing replaced the act of sex. Even though Ivan and Yao didn't even share a single kiss, I hope I achieved my goal of sensuality. I would've written this sooner, but other fics had always taken priority. Anyways, I hope this ficlet did the idea justice. If someone out there did enjoy it…I ask you write the same thing and note me ^^. I enjoy RoChu fics where steamy passion is implied. This way, I can cheat the R18 warning *evil laugh*
In this fic, I made Ivan more articulate, suave, and charming. I find it interesting that people often write Ivan immature and childish (myself included sometimes). However, in figure skating, ballet, and ballroom dancing- sports that require grace and elegance- Russians are often at the top. I find that ballroom dancing is veeeery sensual. Especially tango. Sexy while still being classy. I wanted Ivan to portray those traits.
What was this story about? Feel free to have your own interpretations of the story. You'll most likely be 100% correct. My interpretation of Ivan and Yao's dance is something like this: They are attracted to one another, but unwilling to say it out loud. Yao does not acknowledge his feelings, and Ivan refuses to grovel for a scrap of Yao's affections though he'll flirt. A dance is about two bodies moving as one to the same rhythm. Without chemistry, understanding, and the perfect fit to each other's bodies, the dance becomes undone. In other words, the dance was Ivan's silent way of admonishing Yao for making them both wait unnecessarily. The perfect dance they danced…is just how it'll be like if they ever consummated their relationship ~3.
Time period is undetermined. Can be in the 1920s-30s or it can be present day. Depends on when you want them to begin their relationship; before or after the Split.