Precious Silk

So... this is my second Hetalia fic. Hopefully, people will enjoy it. I've been wanting to write this sort of story for a while, and now the occasion has shown itself. Enjoy this very short first chapter!

Chapter One : The Hunt

Ever since my childhood, I have been fascinated by this big country that lays south of Siberia. The people of this country call it Zhongguo, or 溺iddle States I like to call it Kitaii. When I was a very small child, I used to take strolls all the way to the border, and I would gaze out at this land filled with beautiful legends and stories. Those tales spoke of a boy that had been born from the egg of a phoenix or from a dragon, while other's said he had been born from the Yangtze. The Tatars told me tales about how grand and graceful the country was, and I grew up with the desire to meet the one they called Wang Yao.

Years passed, and I eventually had the chance to meet the man that I dreamt of. He came one day with his boss, and even if it was nothing more a formality, I knew this encounter would change my life forever. It turned out that this man of legend was a very small, feminine looking man. When I gazed upon his soft, beautiful face, I couldn't help but notice those beautiful, shining golden eyes, lovely and delicious looking lips, as well as cheeks red in embarrassment. As my gaze went down on his body, I noticed a strong yet thin chest, long and delicate fingers, as well as cute little feet. He was not exactly how I had imagined him. I thought that such a large country would be a man who looked much stronger, but no. Yao was very small and looked rather frail.

"Ni hao" the Asian had spoken to me. "I am Wang Yao, also known as Zhongguo, or China, as you may know me."

"Priatno poznakomitsya. I'm Rossiya, but you can call me Ivan Braginskii."

Yao even had a sort of feminine voice which was pleasing to the ear. When I held out my hand to shake his, I was almost scared of breaking the small hand that found its way into mine. When he squeezed it gently, I felt the warmth of a country that had warm winters to the south. And this warmth found its way to the depths of my heart and stomach. I was still shaking hands with him when it dawned on me: one day... This man would be mine.

However, Yao is extremely distrusting by nature, perhaps to a fault. He has been betrayed by most of his family, and I must say even my country sort of left him behind. That being said, I always felt a special sort of affection for him. Whenever I met with the Chinese male, I felt like running my fingers down his hair, I wanted to hold him close, I wanted to kiss him, and wanted his body to be naked under mine, I desired an exchange of heat and bodily fluids with him. And I often told him, always with the same sort of result.

"Yao... will you please be mine?" "Yao, I have loved you since the day I laid eyes on you... Will you agree to be one with me?" "Yao, before this wold comes to an end and before we both die... Will you lay my soul to rest and agree to become my lover?"

"No." "Never." "Stop saying such embarrassing things" he always replied with fiery cheeks, and never managed to look at me.

Those harsh words always made me sad, but I never insisted. Even if I desperately wanted him, I could respect Yao's desires. I knew that one day, he would accept me. Until the day he rejected me by saying those words: "Ivan, I will never love you. I would not become your lover even if the fate of the world depended on our union."

Nowadays, Yao and I still live close to each other. His borders still touch mine, and we have some sort of good relationship... He and I were both part of the mighty Allied forces, after all. Despite this, I want much more from him. The years I spent living close to him and observing him became a painful gap in my mind, a hole that I want to fill anyway I can. This hole, of course, is filled with Yao's absence. To stop this pain, what I had to do was simple: I had to have Yao, all to myself.

It was a cold winter evening, and yet for Russian standards, it was actually quite warm. As always, the streets of Beijing were filled with people. There were couples walking by, teenagers hanging out, people heading home, as well as an explosion of city lights. I was there, on the lookout for a familiar figure. It took a moment, but I eventually saw him. I was in a dark alley, he was walking on a busy street. Even if I was quite easy to spot, I came out of my hideout and did my best to follow him, discreetly. Yao was easy to recognize, thanks to his ponytail and big golden eyes. Also, he wore traditional clothes on a regular basis. Oh, he looked so beautiful in this red, silky coat., as well as those black pants and little shoes. He also wore a black scarf, which looked more beautiful than warm. He was carrying grocery bags. Yao lived in an old looking house, on the outskirts of Beijing. Of course, I followed him all the way there, managing to stay unnoticed. It was easy, after all. I knew where Yao lived, I just had to make sure that this is where he was headed. As he walked in my field of vision, I took a rag and covered it with chloroform, like I knew people did in movies and books when they wanted to take a person without a struggle. When the rag was doused in the peculiar chemical, I rushed towards the unsuspecting Chinese. Before I shoved the fabric over his nose and mouth, he had the time to turn around and look at me. During a brief moment, there was a light of recognition in the depths of this soft, golden gaze. But then, when he realized what was going on, he tried to scream. I was so nervous, I mustered a large amount of strength to hold him tight and to put the rag over his mouth and nose. My heart was racing, I was excited about what I was doing. Feeling Yao's hopeless struggle and hearing his muffled cries made me feel warm inside. The pain of his nails digging inside the skin of my arm seemed to find its way to my stomach, making it warm with a fuzzy, weird feeling.

"Shh, shh... Yao..."

I'm not sure what knocked him out first: the pain, the chemical, the lack of air, or a mix of all those factors? Then again, in the end, it didn't matter. The effect was the same. Yao had been knocked up, and he was free for the taking. His body went limp, but still I kept the rag on his face. I sat on the ground, under his weight, keeping his head to my chest. I knew that Yao was smart and could be devious, and so I needed to make sure. But how? I remained like this for a moment, still pressing the rag firmly against Yao's face. I loosened my grip a little, just to allow him to breathe a little. And then, I did something that I had wanted to do forever. With my trembling free hand, I reached under his coat and his shirt, until I felt on of his nipples. I felt my cheeks heat up, as I played with this warm bit of skin. I traced little circles around it with the tip of my finger, and when it was hardened sufficiently, I just teased the tip of it. He didn't react at all. I finally pulled the rag away, slowly, gazing down at those calm features. It looked like he was sleeping. I ended up getting up, and I put him over my shoulder, now heading towards my home.

My home in Russia was the best of prisons. It was a huge, dark house on the outskirts of Sankt-Peterburg. There was a lot of snow all around it, and so it would be hard for Yao to try and leave. The winter was harsh, and getting lost was easy. My home used to be beautiful. A while ago, it was kept clean by the people that lived with me. Every other year, someone would pain the walls and make sure that the murals still looked fine. But now, the wallpaper and paint were peeling from the walls, the dust was accumulating around and some windows were broken. It was a bit cold inside because of it. Carefully, I put Yao down on a comfortable chair. I took away his coat, which I threw down in the basement. It was not like he would need it. I then tied his wrists, and I made sure to tie the rope to the chair to keep him there. And now, I wanted him to wake up.

I was sitting on a chair, in front of Yao, leisurely observing those delicate features. My mind was wandering. I kept thinking about what I could do to him now that he was there, at my mercy. I wanted to be one with him, and even more. My arms wanted to hold him, my lips desired his, my hands wanted to explore this soft skin, my tongue was longing for the sweet taste of his seed, my ears desired the sound of his sweet moans, and my mind wanted the Asian to give himself completely to me.

And I would find a way to make it more than a fantasy.