He woke to intense cold, to wracking shivers. Rope bound around his thick wrists creaked as his weight shifted from unconscious to conscious, groaning softly as he came round. It only took the man a few seconds to notice where he was, his shakey breath coming out in little bursts of fog that tickled his face with moisture. The floor was concrete, tiny shards bit harmlessly into his feet. His head felt a little wet and there was dried water on his face that he couldn't remember why.
He had actually become unfortunately familiar to this way of waking. Naked, sometimes wet from blood or water or sweat, rope or some form of bondage holding him in place and in a very comprising position. He could still feel the reassuring grip of semi-fresh bandages, and his 'favourite' piece of cloth was tied around his eyes, smelling of weeks of salt. Being blind only enhanced his paranoia as he stood uncertainly, not knowing if it was day or night, or long how he had been knocked unconscious. He felt blonde strands tickle the bridge of his nose as he hung his head a little to keep calm, reminding himself he wouldn't have to wait long.
Glass crunched loudly to his left, and Ludwig's head whipped up, feet shuffling a little as he tried to focus. He felt the muscles in his stomach squeezed a little in anxiety and the cold, blindfolded head turning this way and that in the general direction of the glass.
"Hello Ludwig." Came a fond sigh, and a leather hand caressed from his arm down to his flank, the whispering gesture emitted another shudder.
Months ago, Ludwig may have snapped at him, or given him a cool air of disinterest. He was Germany afterall. But Ivan had been right – the fight had been beaten out of him.
Eventually.
Ivan admired the powerful man he had captured, muscles stretched and hard from the straining of the rope. Trailed a hand up a bandaged thigh which he had cut only the other day, watching the muscles around his hand harden in an effort not to recoil. He tilted his head as he watched lovingly at his toy panted slightly, moist air fogging and tickling at the pale, cold-flushed face. Ivan wondered…was this silence comforting or worrying for little Ludwig?
"I still have your brother," Ivan spoke experimentally, deciding maybe a little chitchat would loosen him up. Ludwig's throat worked in a thick swallow, a sign that he'd got his attention, and Ludwig knew exactly were his brother was already. "He's entirely mine so he's in a far worse condition, but I think he felt better when I said you missed him. If only I could convince the others to let me have you as well…"
Lips grazed at Ludwig's collarbone and he gasped, before the lips changed direction and coaxed at his totally unresponsive ones, kissing with deadly slowness at the corners and even tugging a little. This disjointed, loving affection was just the beginning of a tirade and Ludwig knew it.
"You should be grateful," Ivan went on. "If you hadn't been so entertaining, he'd be dead. You are keeping your brother alive by behaving. He'd be so proud of you."
Ludwig felt something inside his chest tighten, and he groaned softly in hatred. Yes, he had had the fight beaten out of him, but even when he had the energy to struggle, he tried not to. Because where ever Gilbert was, alone, bound, near-dead in the middle of some winter wasteland, as long as he was good enough for the Ivan he could spare Gilbert a fraction of suffering.
But he didn't want to call it behaving. He tolerated this because he had to. No one was going to save him, no one cared he was being systematically violated. Which made it all the more worse that Ludwig had been led to participate in it, and had somehow become very aroused many times more.
Ivan tried to look for the signs of the man's inner turmoil in his body, since the eyes would have been the best place but had challengingly been obscured. Fingers curled around the dimensions of his toy, over the cheekbones and the distinct jaw, down the steadiness of the neck and curving over the built pectoral. He had really begun to adore Ludwig's body. So seemingly inpenetrable and unstoppable, pale muscles hard and stretched. But on the other side of it, those stretched muscles were tight and ready to split open; to quiver and contract; could bloom some of the most beautiful colours. And so humble too, so easy to overcome if Ivan had the right tools.
Ivan'd beaten and tamed a dangerous, wounded beast that would now cower in his shadow if he so desired. Was this revenge? Maybe. But Ivan also considered it a service. Even a mutual bond.
The pipe in his hand wandered dangerously to tap above Ludwig's groin, who visibly tensed in horror, despite the pipe trailing upwards over the dips in his stomach. This time Ivan hadn't decided to delve deeper than necessary, which he had once before. Ludwig was not ready to forget that experience. It disconnected and Ivan circled a little, the pipe falling softly onto Ludwig's bunched shoulderblades and dragging down the curve of his back, the rust scratching stimulatingly at the pale skin, and Ivan was delighted as the muscles of Ludwig's back quivered in its wake.
Ivan didn't love Ludwig because he was perfect. Nothing about him was perfect. But what Ludwig was was ideal. Ivan loved that even in his inperfect state, he had plenty distance to fall into destruction. And Ivan loved destroying. Fact was, his toy was already so worn out there was very little to mar anymore. Didn't make him any less fun though.
"You're so good, Ludwig." Ivan hummed, standing behind him and dragged back his head by putting a pushing palm on his forehead, so that his head was bent back uncomfortably. He spied a little crease in the skin just above the blindfold, a little bit of proof that little Ludwig had a worried, bated expression in his eyes. Ivan towered over that face and drank in the anxious breathing, the little tell-tales of squirming as Ludwig found himself caught between fear and excitement, and a little bit of rage.
"It's just you and me now," Ivan sighed softly, gazing down. Gloved fingers lingered by firm lips as Ivan debated whether to explore, though changing his mind and trailing them up Ludwig's face to tug a little of the worn blindfold. The material creased and revealed a single blue eye, bright and alive and blinking back into clarity in the dimness. It connected with the lucid violet of Ivan's, and there was a steady uncertainty. The same piercing blues Ivan had seen ruthless malice, had seen bright worry; had seen them tainted by blood or awash with tears. Ivan's thumb caressed at Ludwig's cheekbone, the both of them still staring in their precarious position. "It's just you and me. Alone in the night and endless snow. You feel lonely, da? I did too. But don't fret dear Ludwig, you have me."
Ludwig silently listened, not knowing an appropriate response. Existing with Ivan….it was like being around taut piano wire. One harsh movement and it would snap the wire, releasing all the ridiculously vicious tension until he gets sliced open. Whatever games or cruelty Ivan wanted to perform, Ludwig could do nothing but wait and wait for it. Could only listen to the insane Russian ramble on.
"This special," Ivan said, but his voice had an edge of finality to it. Ludwig paid more attention now, breath bated as he stared up with his one visible eye. "Together we can be so great. The Motherland and the Fatherland, da? It's a union that was always going to happen." The adoration in the Russian's eyes was fading and giving way to something far emptier, far firmer. Ludwig looked between his eyes desperately, thinking frantically of what to say to bring that back and to delay the evitable just a little longer. "But you don't want to become one with me, do you? No one ever does…I ask and ask but everyone always gets mean or runs away. So I have to force you." Ivan looked bordering on deranged now, expression spaced out and serious.
Ivan's hands stopped cradling Ludwig's head and instead bent to retrieve his pipe, meeting Ludwig's eyes who desperately tried to turn his face through his bound arms to facially plead, or see what was going to happen. Ivan watched coldly as Ludwig's body began to shiver, saw some of the looser bandages fall a little. Eyes raked over the bruises of all different sizes and colours; the cuts and grazes that littered his skin; the off-white wrappings from glass or metal shards or some vicious object.
In the darkness the German's eyes were wide and chest panting, as if he had only just remembered how battered he was, muscles undulating with the tension. But Ivan ignored it, reaching forward and tugging the bit of blindfold to hide panicking eyes. Again he was just a powerful, sweating, panting German man, no eyes and no emotions and no humanity, just a living breathing object. One that wouldn't work properly, wouldn't do exactly what he wanted. The man let out a louder pant as the fear must've been building up, ears pricked for the rusty pipe that slid along the floor as it was lifted up.
If only you had done what you had told. If only you hadn't betrayed our friendship. If only you hadn't tried to destroy everything around you without noticing what the consequences were going to be. If you would just be behave, you wouldn't have to be punished. If seeing you like this didn't excite and hurt me so much.
"I'm sorry." Ivan apologised softly, face calm but tears on his cheeks, pipe going up over his head and the faucet hanging in the air at the apex of the swing. The body in front of him jumped and shivered, and the face's mouth opened a little with a quiver and that crease was back on its forehead again, hands tightening into fists above the rope.
The pipe came down.