DEMANDS OF CHILDREN

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I make no claim whatsoever on the ownership of these characters.

. . .

Time was irrelevent. It did not matter how much of an age difference they had. It did not matter how long it took; all that mattered was that he would make his southern neighbor belong to him. He would make Yao his.

Ever since he was a child, Ivan admired Yao. Long ago, when he had been under Mongol rule, he would always steal sidelong glances at Yao. The powerful Chinese nation had pretty much ignored him, but Ivan could not help but to look up to China. Yao was to epitome of grace. Everything Yao did, he excelled at. Yao could even make war seem like an art. Ivan felt that Yao's beauty was wasted on the Mongol's harsh, war-like lifestyle.

It wasn't until the beginning of the Qing Dynasty that Ivan began to realize exactly what his feelings were. China had always been the superior rolemodel for Russia. Slowly, those innocent moments were replaced by strange, confusing feelings. Russia sent several officials to try to open trade and communication. He tried to impress and gain China's respect. Ivan wanted his attention. He wanted to be important to him. Not only that, but Ivan wanted Yao for himself. Yao was not only a beautiful country, but he was an even more beautiful man. He wanted to make Yao writhe beneath him, begging for his touch, begging for his love.

What Ivan wanted, Ivan got.

. . .

Yao woke slowly, his eyes squinting to adjust to the bright light invading his dreamlessness. He stared up at the ceiling confused. High rafters gazed back down at him before his sight trailed down to the large window across from him. He instantly looked away again as direct sunlight blinded him. Where was he?

Yao was supposed to be in the northeastern regions of his country. his boss had him tour the country every summer to make sure all was well and in order. He belonged in China, but he could easily tell he was not. He was somewhere completely foreign. Yao rolled over and pulled the blankets up to his ears. He remembered why.

It had been the end of August 1904 and Yao was finishing the patrol of the North. He had walked into a bar for a drink. The sign outside had read Подсолнечни and was painted with big yellow sunflowers. Russian businesses up by the Northern border were uncommon but not unusual. He had thought nothing of it at the time. The keeper was polite and the alcohol was good. Yao had walked out with a smile on his face, but before he had gone far, he was pulled into a building. Someone tried to cover his face with a handkerchief. Yao could smell the chlorform and slapped the hand away, kicking the attacker in his vital regions. Strong arms closed around the Chinese man and held him in like a bird in an iron cage. Another man took the handkerchief and pressed the cloth over Yao's face.

However much later, Yao had woken up here. Wherever here was...

Sighing, he yanked off the blankets and slipped out of the huge bed. He looked around quietly. Whoever designed the room clearly took his tastes into account. It was richly decorated in shades of red and gold or was made from dark wood. The rug beneath his feet was woven in an oriental pattern, and the woodstove in the corner was crackling merrily. Yao walked over to the stove stumbling over the think rug. When he saw folded silk warming atop the stove, he realized he was only wearing white cotton underpants. He quickly put on the fine clothes laid out for him and tied his hair up with the velvet ribbon hanging from the wait around half-naked?

Yao noticed a door on the opposite wall and went over to it, jiggling the handle. It was locked. He was about to turn away when the door opened revealing a small maid on the other side. She smiled and bowed to Yao before speaking. "I apologize, I was not aware you were awake."

"No, it's not a problem. I just got up," he waved her off.

"Master Braginski is currently away on business, but he said to tell you that he will be back this evening."

"Ivan? I was abducted by a Russian?"

The small girl cringed at his sudden outburst but nodded. "There is breakfast in here if you will come in sir, please. Master Braginski said you liked to paint, so there are watercolours as well. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you."

Yao absently shook his head, too occupied by murderous thoughts. The lavish rooms were tainted by the fact he was here against his will. He frowned and sat down at the low table laden with food. Yao took the steaming cup of tea the girl poured for him. She wiped the bottom of the pot and set it on the table before leaving to go make his bed. To tell the truth, he wasn't very hungry, but he ate some of the foreign food as to not offend the poor girl. She seemed afraid of him and rightly so. Anyone who worked in the Russian household was bound to assume Ivan's guests would be cold as well.

After forcing down a little of the food, Yao glanced around to find the watercolours. He carried them over to a spot on the floor infront of another window. The morning sun warmed his back as he knelt over his work. His brush swept across the page slowly, as if through water. The page gradually took shape of a landscape. Yao missed his homeland's countryside. He missed being able to breathe in the fresh air and gaze out across a valley or the ocean. Here, he could only see a dead tundra from behind thick glass.

. . .

The morning passed quickly, and it was not long before Yao was brought his lunch. This time the girl left through the main room's door and locked it behind her. Yao chewed slowly trying to take up as much time as possible. With only the painting to work on, he would surely get bored. He could not believe the time had come when he actually depended on another country for survival. Without the promise of Ivan's company, he felt he would go insane.

Yao was finishing up the scene when the door unlocked a man came inside. Without looking up, he could tell it was Ivan. The cossack crossed the room in a few strides and stopped behind Yao. Ivan looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing and snatched it up, tearing it into little pieces. Yao gasped and spun around to glare up at him. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? What are you doing? What a rude guest you are Yao, thinking of another country while in another's home," Ivan laughed.

"I am not a guest, I was kidnapped. Thanks to you, I suppose."

Ivan only laughed again and picked Yao up by his waist and slung him over his shoulder. Yao's face flushed at the embarrassing fashion of transportation. He squirmed, trying to wiggle his away out of Ivan's grasp, but was defeated as Ivan jostled his shoulder causing Yao to jerk and slam his face into his back. Ignoring his protests, Ivan walked into the bedroom and set Yao on the edge of the bed. He grunted a "stay" before going over to the woodstove. Yao saw him flip the vent shut, cutting off the oxygen from the flames. Ivan looked back at him blankly, and he glared harder, eyebrows knitted tightly together. Ivan turned to the ominous window that dominated the wall and stretched from floor to ceiling. He unhooked the center panels and swung them outward. The glass brushed the tops of the bushes a story below them.

Satisfied the room was rapidly cooling down, Ivan returned to the side of the bed and gazed down at Yao. A little curious at Ivan's actions, he met his gaze and asked, "What was that for?"

"It is soon going to get very cold, my little Jao."

"I feel fine."

"Only because you have clothes on..."

Yao didn't get a chance to comprehend what he just said before he was pinned down on the fluffy mattress and his shirt unbuttoned. He yelped and desperately pushed against Ivan's hands. He was much smaller in build so the Russian easily overpowered him. It wasn't that he was weak, he was just...unprepared. That's right, unprepared.

Within seconds, his chest was completely bare. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment, but he blamed it on the cold. Without thinking ,Yao reached up and pulled his hair from its ribbon. He didn't know why he did that, he just did. Ivan paused momentarily to admire his delicious prize before moving down to slide off Yao's pants. By now, Yao knew it was useless to struggle. His underthings were ripped off unceremoniously and thrown out of his reach.

The cool air kissed his porcelain skin and sent shivers down his smiled wickedly and blew softly on his neck. Yao squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. Ivan pressed closer, but just far enough not to touch the rest of him. Yao felt Ivan lick his collarbone. The frozen air clung to the spot and Yao squirmed. He bit his lip even harder, rolling it between his teeth. He was stripped and exposed, but he still had his dignity. He would not let himself voice his discomfort. That would only encourage his attacker futher.

Unfortunately, Ivan could see right through him. Jerking forward, Ivan pressed his lips roughly against Yao's. His eyes snapped open and he tried to knee Ivan in the groin, but his legs were held together by the other man's. Extremely frustrated, he bit down on the intruding tongue. Ivan didn't mind in the least.

Though he could not see anything beyond the face infront of his, Yao could feel a hand snake its way up. He groaned and violently tossed his head to the side.

"Stop it, Ivan!" he panted.

To his utter surprise, Ivan stopped. He smirked as he withdrew, taking a few steps back. Yao sighed in relief, the pressure above him lifted. It took several minutes for his breathing to relax, eyes watching his breath freeze before him. Ivan stood staring at him the entire time. Not entirely okay with being watched, Yao swallowed and slowly sat up, propping himself up on his elbows.

"What do you want, Ivan?" he faced him with a renewed menace.

"I want you to beg me to touch you. I want you to fall for me so hard you can't remember your own name. I want to fuck you until I dislocate your hips, until you can't ever leave me. I want you, Jao."

He gulped. "No way in hell."

"Then I'll just have to keep you here until I wear you out."

He had nothing to say to that. He knew he didn't really have a choice in the matter as his life was was in the hands of the monster before him. Yao shuddered violently when a sudden wind came through the open window. Yao turned to look at the sky, the sun dipping into the horizon. The grey cloudless sky was outlined in a yellow glow. It made him sick to look at. Had he been home, the sunset would have been splendid. The sun peeking out from behind the mountains, rays reflecting off the water like shimmering coins. The whole country would have been bathed in gold, but here... Here it was a sick, dead, empty view. It made his heart ache.

The temperature inside had dropped drastically with the sun nearly gone, and Yao's relentless shivering was the only movement in the room. He did not want to speak or give in to Ivan, but he feared of freezing. He reached back to pull the blankets around him, but reluctantly let them drop when Ivan shook him head, smiling. In his current political standing with Russia, he didn't dare disobey. He could feel the eyes burning into him, memorizing the faint definition of his vulnerable body. He felt dirty, laying infront of a man with nothing on at all. It was extremely humiliating, and he knew that was the intent. He couldn't help but feel resentment and sheer hatred at the Russian for purposefully putting him through this.

"It's cold," he whispered, expression softening into a moue. Ivan just kept standing there with that petty, vicious smile on his face.

Amazing himself, Yao languidly stood up, not bothering to cover himself, and stepped up to Ivan with only one word...

"Please."

. . .

NOTES

"Подсолнечни" means sunflower in Russian.

The definition of "amaze" I used is its original form meaning 'alarm, terrify'.

I like my historical fiction to be historically accurate, but in this case, I modified the original events slightly to fit the story plot. In real life, the Russo-Japanese war was a conflict over the ownership of Manchuria and Korea. I had asked my history teacher about it and he had told me that Japan had kicked Russia out of China in 1905 because of the influence Russia had on China was not desirable. Obviously, this was not the case, but his take on the war inspired me for this story.