A/N: Request done for Trans-Siberian Railway.

Like the totally awesome employee I am, I was typing this story at work. One of my co-workers came in and added some really realistic sound effects to the grinding of bones and howls when he slammed into the corner of my desk with his hip. I'm such a horrible person laughing at his broken English stammer between yelps, "OWW, OWW, *Korean cuss word*, broken!"

Alfred twiddled his thumbs idly. He counted ceiling tiles. He invented little games involving tapping his feet. He clicked and unclicked his pen. He bemoaned his fate to his grumbling tummy in some strange grunting language he had just made up.

"Mr. Jones, is there a problem?"

Alfred jerked his head up and grunted a few times before his tongue stumbled back to English, "Um, no, sorry."

He did his best to restrain himself from rolling his eyes as the woman turned back around. Was this even necessary? Was it truly necessary to ship him off like some kind of druggie?

It wasn't like he was guzzling liquor or tweaking on Meth. It didn't interfere with his daily life or hinder him. He was still fairly healthy and young.

So what was the big deal anyway?

Bored, he started kicking the chair in front of him, not-quite-forgetting that someone occupied it. Actually, he didn't care. That guy was a major jerk and a half. He definitely needed to be here… or maybe institutionalized.

"Would you please stop?" The man in question turned around with a creepy smile and a childish tone, "That is not nice."

"Yeah, well, too bad." Alfred retorted sulkily, "I'm bored."

"Find someone else to alleviate your boredom. Your brain capacity is obviously too small to learn." The man said, still with that creepy smile, and let out an equally creepy giggle.

"Did you just call me stupid?"

Giggle, giggle. Kick, giggle, kick, giggle, kick, snap, scream.

"FUCK!" Alfred howled in pain and outrage as the jerk's meaty paw attempted to break his ankle. He gave a sharp jab with his heel and winced as the grip on his ankle tightened.

"Perhaps you are fat and stupid?" The man grinned. And like the sick fuck he was, seemed to be enjoying the fact that Alfred's bones were grinding together.

At the mention of the forbidden word all the participants of the class whipped around in a mixture shock and fury. Never mind the kicking and giggling they had been staunchly ignoring for the last few minutes, someone had said the forbidden word and there was going to be Hell to pay.

"Mr. Braginski, would you care to repeat what you just said?" the woman that ran the class gave him an icy look, "And then would you repeat rule number one in this program?"

The jerk gave a small smile and nodded politely, "I said Mr. Jones was fat and stupid. However, I do not think that rule number one applies to such a… man. It is clear that he is both."

Alfred stifled a sniffle and felt the tears building up behind his eyes. Numerous school yard taunts were flying around his head and several hideous flashbacks played behind his eyelids as he closed them to hide the tears.

"Rule one explicitly states that you should respect yourself, your fellow students, and your teacher. Calling Mr. Jones… that word is unacceptable." The woman frowned and couldn't even say it herself. She scowled harder and added, "There is a reason we are all here, and that is because we want to escape that horrible term and stereotype. Please apologize to Mr. Jones for what you said."

"I am sorry that I said that word in Mr. Jones and the classes' presence." The asshole said with a malicious sort of sincerity. Alfred noticed he didn't say he was sorry for being a lying fucker. "It was inappropriate."

"Yes, it was. Now please remember the rules and try not to say such things in the future."

Alfred took a deep breath and hissed, "If I'm fat and stupid, then that's pot and kettle man."

"I do not understand that term."

"Listen, you probably don't want to be here either." Alfred looked him up and down. He didn't really look like he should be here. In fact, he seemed more out of place in this room full of middle aged women than Alfred did. At least Alfred had one thing in common with them! "And we're really outnumbered by the flow of estrogen in this room. Really, so how about we play a little game? Two truths and a lie is always a fun icebreaker."

"I do not know this game." The other man's eyes, however, had brightened at the mention of the word game and he was clearly interested. He definitely didn't belong in his class, Alfred decided, eyeing him again.

"My name is Alfred. I am 24 years old. I am a girl." Alfred flashed a grin.

The other man seemed to catch on because he said, "You are not a girl."

"Right, I was lying."

"Then your name is Alfred and you are 24 years old. You look much younger." The man rumbled suddenly peaceful. His violet eyes seemed to match the loose smile he had, "My name is Ivan. I am 27 years old. I like chocolate."

"Ha, dude, don't we all like chocolate here? Really, how old are you."

"I do not like chocolate. Do I win?" Ivan inquired and Alfred gaped. Not like chocolate? That was like a sin against nature. This guy definitely didn't belong in here. Alfred shook clear of the amazement that surrounded him and shrugged, "What do you want?"

Ivan just smiled wider and said, "I am from Russia. I have lots of money. I am very interested in you."

"Hmm, well, you've got the accent thing going on, so I'll buy that you're from Russia. And, haha, the money thing is funny. I'm pretty sure you're a big, fat liar about that. Which means the last part is true?" Alfred pitched the last sentence as a question even though he knew the answer. He couldn't believe his luck. Maybe this wasn't going to suck quite as much as he had first thought.

"Perhaps I am a billionaire and enjoy visiting the small people." Ivan replied glibly and Alfred smirked. Oh yeah, he was going to be quite lucky, he could sense it.

"Right, and I'm not going to make a joke about that, commie. Okay, whatever, my turn dude. I have one brother named Matthew. My eyes are my best feature. And I collect stuffed unicorns."

"Clearly it is the second one."

Alfred pretended to be highly offended, "My eyes are gorgeous, thank you very much."

"Hmm, then I think your eyes are actually quite nice. I do not think your eyes are your best feature however. And I am a teacher."

"Well, since you're obviously not lying about me… what do you think is my best feature?" Alfred huffed and Ivan gave a pointed look at his lap that was half hidden by the table. Oh. "In that case, I'd have to agree, but I'd rather let you make an educated decision, teacher."

"I am a good judge." Ivan shrugged nonchalantly and Alfred licked his lips, "But you have not completed the game."

Right. Alfred's mind scrambled for a few seconds, "I can speak Russian. I majored in Journalism. I suck at dating."

"Then it is good that I also suck at dating." Ivan replied easily, clearly relishing the game, "And I am quite sure you cannot speak Russian."

"Privet!"

"As I said, you cannot speak Russian." Ivan chuckled., "I am not an addict. I prefer black coffee. I enjoy games."

He certainly did, Alfred noted. Who the hell was this guy?

"I don't like black coffee and think you play very well." Alfred hummed back then decided to push it. What was the worst thing that could happen? "But you most certainly are an addict. Just not a you-know-what-kind of addict. So, is it sex? Drugs? Alcohol? Pink ponies? Hey, don't make that face, I knew a guy like that once…"

Alfred knew an addict when he saw one. He hadn't been attending these stupid clinics for months without getting the know the type. It wasn't uncommon for addicts to go to different, cheaper alternatives. After all, a detox was a detox, right?

Ivan gave a gleeful smirk, his eyes glittering, "Perhaps you shall find out yourself."

A sex addict would be nice. It had been awhile. It was hard to keep up relationships when his family insisted he go to camp after useless camp. He was beginning to suspect they were actually using it to get rid of him.

Before Alfred could respond the class was dismissed for lunch. Normally this would be a sad, torturous affair for Alfred. There were only so many ways you could make salad, and none of them were actually appealing to him. What he really craved was a big, juicy slab of cow topped off with some greasy, fatty pig and a slice of melted, gooey fake cheese tossed between a white flour bun. His stomach growled and he groaned. Torture. This place was hamburger hell.

But Ivan had woken up another kind of appetite and damn was he hungry!

Somehow he made it through the rest of the day. The long, boring blah blahs about stuff he'd already heard blah blah'd about before a million kajillion times. The condescending lectures from the cranky professionals who had been at their job for too many years, the well-meaning hippie teachers' words of encouragement and assurances 'you'll grow to love it! You won't even know what you're missing!', and the horrible dinner complete with the never ending salad. Salad was for rabbits, and Alfred could only think that was the only good use for them.

He was thinking of all the ways he could make a hamburger and wandering down the hall to his room absentmindedly. A big arm shot out of a random door way and he was yanked into a different dorm room.

"Hello." He said, somewhat disoriented, "What's up?"

Ivan looked down, mildly reproachful.

"Oh, right. Was that tonight? Because, dude, I still have to go to the gym… then I'm going to be all sweat and nasty and shit." Alfred had actually been looking forward to going to the gym. He had a punching bag that he wanted to pound.

"Nyet."

"Hey, do you want me to get even—." Alfred paused, wondering if someone was listening then whispered, "Fatter? I want to get out of this hell hole."

Ivan's eyes wandered over Alfred's body and he gave a serious look, "Perhaps I should see your body."

Alfred was suddenly self-conscious. No one other than doctors had actually ever asked to see his body. It was probably repulsively blubbery. Alfred himself never looked at himself in the mirror without his clothing hiding his blob shaped abdomen. Ivan reached forward to grab his shirt and he skittered back. Nu-uh, this was not the way it was going to go down. Some big, slightly scary lummox was not going to tear the shirt from his back and bend him over a table—although it was an enjoyable fantasy.

"Look, I have to go run five miles and work with the weights." Alfred said, trying to inch around Ivan. Ivan had started frowning and effectively cut off Alfred's escape by stepping in front of the door. "And… and… dude, can't you take not now for an answer?"

Suddenly Ivan's face was very close, "I lack patience when I am sober."

Great, the only alcoholic in the world that's mean when not drunk.

"Okay then, well bend yourself over and let's get this done. I guess sex burns calories too." Alfred shrugged, his mind still on the treadmill he should be burning.

"Ah, you are too amusing, little American." Ivan gave a sincere chuckle and gave Alfred some room. He cocked his head, "I assume that was your attempt at humor? It was quite good."

Alfred scowled. He wasn't trying to be funny. He was funny, dammit, but this time he wasn't joking around. Usually he wasn't picky about position but the fact that this guy was big, strong, and somewhat of a creep (albeit a hot one), didn't really make him want to give over all the control.

"Hey, I'm not much shorter than you are. And I can guarantee the other parts of me aren't that little either."

Ivan gave a little patronizing clap of glee, "Wonderful, although it is not necessary for this, as size does not matter for you, only for me."

Now Alfred was annoyed. How could this guy go from annoying him to intriguing him to annoying the fuck out of him? It was like some kind of crazy bi-polar relationship—and they didn't even have a relationship!

Although he could appreciate size… but that wasn't the point. Dammit, it wasn't!

While Alfred was debating with himself how much of a fight he wanted to put up before slipping out to the gym, Ivan apparently was making good on his threat of a lack of patience. The bigger Russian lunged forward swiftly and pinned him against the wall. He groaned at the stab of pain that shot up his spine but it was muffled by the warm, wet mouth that was in the process of canvassing his complete with tongue hockey.

Sneaky ninja fingers crept down Alfred's chest and sides. He squirmed and moaned and wiggled away from the fingers while still trying to keep their mouths in contact. It really wasn't working too well, but it was enough to annoy Ivan because he gave a not-so-light nip to Alfred's lip and pulled. Undeterred, Alfred let himself slide down the wall, his own fingers brushing against Ivan's padded form, fumbling for a buckle or a zipper or a button. Unfortunately, the long coat Ivan insisted on wearing blocked his efforts. Ivan was having a much easier time gripping the bottom of his tee shirt and tugging.

"Allow me or I will rip it." Ivan growled in warning his strong hands securing a grip on the hem. Alfred had no doubt he'd do it too. Dammit, why wasn't he wearing a shirt he didn't care about? Why did it have to be a shirt for his favourite band since high school?

He allowed Ivan to pull it over his head and arms, shivering slightly as the tepid air of the dorm hit his bare skin. Somehow in the mix he had lost hold of Ivan's pants, which he had actually located, and was groping around trying to find them again.

Ivan's mouth had abandoned his lips and was now working a harsh trail down from his left ear to the side of his neck. Small, sharp smacking noises accompanied each nip and suckle, and Alfred was quite sure tomorrow would call for a turtle neck. Or not. Let the old biddies stare in jealousy because their husbands refused to touch them until they ate enough salads to fucking explode.

He felt big hands grip his waist and tried to sit on his pants. No way he was going to be stripped like… like… he couldn't even think of what it was like. Not right now… like some… kind… of… it was unjustice! He should be stripping himself, willingly, and Ivan wasn't even allowing him to do that same.

He finally found a buckle under Ivan's massive coat and gave a sharp tug. He felt the metal click and loosen, the belt now dangling uselessly. Emboldened by his success, and still trying to defend his pants by sliding half under a desk, he grasped the button and undid it with a snap.

The lips and talented tongue were lavishing his collarbone, harder and faster, making him gasp. Really, it had been too long if he was whining for more like a virgin during foreplay. A vicious pinch to his nipples with more teeth than were strictly necessary made him arch and almost loose his shit. So not fair!

With one last wrench, he undid the zipper with a victorious zing. He was pleasantly surprised to find bare, pulsing skin instead of another layer of cotton blocking his efforts. He gave a grab, a little harder than was strictly necessary, but all was fair in love, war, and sex.

Ivan groaned, a deep, pleasant sound compared to his usual giggle, and thrust his hips forward. Alfred found his nose buried in Ivan's coat at the crotch. Without even thinking about it, he took a bite through the cloth. His teeth grazed his pinky as he yanked his hand out of the way and then Ivan was all his. The rough cloth rubbed against Ivan's erection at the pressure from Alfred's teeth and he groaned again, thrusting even more insistently.

"Not a good idea." Alfred ground out around the cloth and winced as Ivan's big fingers took a yank off hair, "Not a good idea to offer your dick to someone with an oral fixation."

He worked his mouth and teeth and lips over the cloth, taking special pleasure in the fact he could be rough. The texture of the cloth just sensualized the whole experience. He could still feel the heat and taste the salt but the texture on his tongue… it was so rough and rich. And his hands were giving him access to everything he needed to reach and fondle.

At some point Ivan managed to wrench off his pants and hooked his underwear down around his knees. He was vaguely aware of the probing fingers pumping and sliding and circling and digging. But at that point he was like a kid with a lollipop. How many licks was the only question on his mind.

"Enough." Ivan said huskily and yanked Alfred up and away. Alfred growled in aggravation and took a swing. The fingers tightened on the back of his neck and he relaxed then stiffened as more fingers invaded him in a not-so-nice fashion.

"Lube?"

Ivan looked at him blankly.

"Man, at least tell me… uggh… you have condoms…" Alfred groaned as an exploratory finger poked around inside of him and brushed his prostate. He tried to look around for his pants. He had enough issues without having unprotected sex with some guy he met at the rehab clinic. Drink might not have been Ivan's only addiction.

Ivan's fingers paused, still lodged firmly and stretching, and he looked down semi-lucid. His violet eyes were hazed with hormones and his lips swollen pink. A few more seconds passed before he realized Alfred was expecting an answer. He shrugged and rummaged with the hand that had been pinning Alfred's neck in his coat pocket.

"It is too small, yet you insist, do you not?"

"I insist." Alfred said firmly, shifting at the discomfort in his lower region. "And what do you mean too small?"

Ivan just gave a satisfied smile and held the condom packet to Alfred's lips. Again, without thinking, Alfred took it in his mouth and worked the wrapper. It was short work to get it out and slather it with saliva. Cheap bastard, of course he wouldn't get lubricated condoms.

Ivan's eyebrow rose, "So your mouth can be useful."

Alfred took the opportunity to sink down again and flipped Ivan's coat up and over his head. His nose wrinkled and tickled as he sought the tip of Ivan's penis. Let the bastard see how good his mouth really was. He located it with a little more shoving and nuzzling, maybe on purpose, and slid the condom down and deepthroating at the same time. Ivan wasn't lying about size, and Alfred was grateful for his big mouth.

Before he got the chance to indulge further, he was yanked out again. Ivan's lips were over his and he was bent backwards slightly to accommodate the pressure on his body. Ivan's hands grabbed his hips and tilted him further, letting go of his heck. His head banged back into the wall as Ivan decided he was done playing around.

The combined pain and pleasure made Alfred scream into Ivan's mouth. His brain was overloaded with the sensations of Ivan's lips on his own, fingers were digging into the flesh of his buttocks, coat-covered chest against his sweaty, hot one, Ivan's shaft buried as deep as it could go, and some spare fingers somehow still grabbing his own penis and pumping in rhythm with the rapid thrusts.

Alfred wasn't sure how much more screaming he did and Ivan was canny enough to muffle him in any case. He howled as his orgasm hit like a freight train before convulsing and clinging to Ivan's coat with the last of his strength. He was vaguely aware of Ivan finishing a little while later.

As Alfred lay against the wall, sticky and feeling like he quite possibly had the best work out of his life, Ivan leaned back and looked him over with childish innocence.

"Alfred should go to the gym though. It is unflattering to have so much fat store around your middle like a rodent preparing for winter." Ivan said mildly with a little smile curling around his lips. "However, I am very glad the extra weight did not impede your performance."

"As long as it was good for you, asshole." Alfred managed to mumble and had just enough energy to give him the finger. He liked Ivan better when his mouth was busy with other things like his nipples or ears or lips or collarbone or thighs… yes, there were many better things his mouth could be doing other than giving unconstructive criticism and backhanded compliments.

"You wish for more sex?" Ivan asked with his eyes wide in mock surprise, "My, your appetite is quite insatiable, is it not? Glutton is a sin, as I am sure you are aware, although you may not be since you partake in it so excessively and willingly."

"Pot and kettle, jackass. Greed's also a sin. Not to mention lust." Alfred huffed and let out a relaxed sigh. Maybe he was a glutton, but round two was sounding absolutely fantastic. Fat camp was the best thing to happen to him since hamburgers. And this was one workout he wouldn't have to drag himself to with his mp3 player on full blast.

Oh yes, between the god awful salads and the mind blowing sex, he might just trim down and not be such a fatty. Besides, Ivan could stand to trim up his little alcohol belly too, so it was win all around.

He was such a genius.