A.N.: Ok so this fic is a little weird. Just a warning right off the bat, lol. Then again anything I write impulsively int he middle of the night ends up weird like this.
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Yao is lonesome. He is ancient, a beauty frozen in time. Little does he know he has a neighbor to the north who is just as old and just as alone. Russia is massive and cold, with so much to give and nobody to give it to. Never have they crossed paths until now. Their leaders have similar interests for the future and similar governments. But something much deeper connects the two countries. Now they stand together, viewing the aftermath of the war. All around, Chinese and Russian soldiers are dying, their blood staining the fields. With each death, Yao feels more and more detached and less alive.
"Ivan? Am I alive?" The tall, handsome Russian looks down at his smaller ally who stood next to him, his eyes lost in the distance. Without thinking, Ivan drops to his knees and wraps his arms around China's waist. He lets his cheek rest against Yao's chest, feeling his heartbeat. He takes Yao's slender hand in his own and lets it rest under his cheek so he can feel the beat there. China doesn't even spare a glance at Ivan. His eyes are still locked on the horizon, his pretty face void of emotion. Yao looks like a doll. He is a soulless doll or so it seems. Most would find it entrancing but Ivan can not bear it. Quickly, he snatches China's other hand and places it over his own chest, beneath the trench coat.
"Do you feel that Jao?" China snaps back to reality and lets his eyes wander into bewitching purple ones. They gaze at him expectantly. Yao nods, never making a sound. Russia's beautiful eyes slip shut and he nuzzles China's chest with a sigh. He brings the hand on his own chest to his lips, letting them brush over each slender finger.
"It means we are alive." China believes him, with all the heart he has left.
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It is freezing cold. Yao and Ivan are locked up alone in a warehouse. They are in the middle of Russia, the heart of Ivan in winter. China's shivering ceases and he begins to feel numb. He can barely make out the shape of his companion across the room anymore. Yao is quickly fading, losing touch on reality. He wonders if he is dying. It takes all of China's energy to move his lips.
"Ivan, are you cold?" The Russian looks up. Thank God he isn't asleep.
"No. I don't feel the cold." He looks over at Yao. His lovely dark complexion has been cruelly stolen by winter's wind. It saddens Ivan.
"I-I think I'm dying." Yao murmurs, his soft voice barely audible. Russia is at his side in an instant.
"Dying? No, you mustn't die Yao! How can I save you?" Ivan fights to keep his voice controlled, calm. Inside he is panicking. Surely he will fade if Yao dies.
"Just...Just make me feel. I must continue to feel." Ivan chokes back tears, clinging to China's every word. He has not cried in many centuries. He has had nothing to cry for. He takes China in his arms desperately, carefully. China is a porcelain doll, delicate, gorgeous. Ivan lets his lips touch Yao's cold ones. The smaller nation begins to kiss back reluctantly. It feels good- he hasn't been kissed in many years. Ivan releases and pulls away much to his disdain. He likes kissing Yao.
"Was that enough?" Ivan asks. Yao shakes his pretty head and kisses Ivan again, more frantically than before. The Russian lets his tongue trace Yao's lower lip, eliciting a whimper from him. They kiss feverishly, tounges tangling. Suddenly, Yao is warm. He is on fire, the heat excruciating yet pleasurable beyond anything he's ever felt. Ivan lets his hands slip inside Yao's uniform, feeling the smooth, cool skin there.
"Do you love me Ivan? Is that why you're doing this?" Yao asks almost innocently. Ivan lifts his handsome head from Yao's neck where he had been kissing and locks eyes with him.
"I think so. I want to love you Yao." China smiles pleasantly in response and wraps his arms around Russia, letting himself be ravished, the feelings electrifying him, filling him with new life. Small hands are lost in pale hair and cold lips greedily trace colder skin. Suddenly, the future seems a little more hopeful, a bit more bright. Yao's heart is beating strong against Ivan's, their chests connecting passionately, clothes discarded. Together they survive the heart of winter, it's beating loud in their ears yet unheard over the passionate whispers.
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Ivan and Yao lived on. Their war against the war was ultimately lost but the war against being forgotten ended otherwise. They never forgot one another even though the war that brought them together was the very same war that would tear them apart in the end. But these petty matters such as government and world power ceased to exist to the two. Their nations continued to struggle to keep up with an ever changing world, progressing faster and faster. It left the ancients behind.
They could not survive in this new world. This was a new world where information can travel faster than light and honor is a thing of the past. Maybe they're souls did not make it in the twenty first century but they live on in the memories.
"Ivan?"
"Yes love?"
"Do you think our countries are ok?" Ivan laughs.
"Of course they are. They're countries, Yao. They don't die." Yao frowns.
"But what about us? Are we dead Ivan?" The Russian tilts his head thoughtfully.
"Maybe to their world. Here, no, we are very much alive." he says, pulling Yao into his arms. There they lay in a field of sunflowers somewhere nobody knows. Yao places a trembling hand to Ivan's pale chest. He smiles, kissing the skin there.
"I love you Ivan."
"Love you too Yao." The Russian smiles into Yao's neck. He peels back the smaller man's robes and kisses each new inch of revealed skin.
"I-Ivan!" Ivan hushes his lover gently.
"Shh, shh I know." Ivan does know. He knows this ache, this need. He strips them both of their clothing- it matters little now. His hands feel these lean legs, this pale stomach. Yao is beautiful, more than anything he's ever laid eyes on. They kiss sloppily, repeatedly and without restraint. Yao feels feverish. His love for Ivan is overwhelming, terrifying. He claws at his lover desperately. Ivan likes the small amount of pain. It makes him feel passionate, alive.
Their love making takes no words. Ivan pushes into his lover, becoming one with him.
"Ahh! Ohh! I-Ivan..." They don't call each other by their countries' names anymore. It seems inappropriate now. Yao bucks his hips wantonly, moaning and crying softly. It is music to Ivan's ears. He nips Yao's neck, shivering when he hears the whimper from Yao. The smaller man clenches his fists, arching his back. He's close, Ivan coming with him. They release together, panting. Ivan remains inside Yao, loving the feel of their bodies together, hearts beating as one finally in a field of sunflowers where there is no war, no more cold.
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A.N.: And just an FYI for everyone, if the smut scene was a little lacking, it was supposed to. I didn't want to be too explicit because that isn't what the fic's about. Hope you all enjoyed it somewhat. :)