Chapter 3

Pleasant Dreams

(T rating)


Alfred sat opposite Ivan, the two facing each other from across a long, oak dining table. He wished they were further apart. Those violet eyes disturbed him.

From the moment he had met Ivan he had been struck by three things: first that the man was tall, second that he was incredibly good-looking, and third his eyes were empty.

Although Alfred would never admit to fear, he could accept that Ivan creeped him out. Alfred had never seen eyes so dead inside, as if behind those opal irises lay nothing but a bottomless hole.

Had Ivan been born so empty or been made that way?

The Russian's grin appeared painted on more than a work of his muscles in his face. And that constant bout of giggles were eerie. Ivan acted like a creature pretending to be human.

Yet... Alfred's skin flushed when he thought of his accident in the throne room. He told himself it was only embarrassment at such a clumsy mistake. He should have watched his steps and not been so focused on the Russian's features.

But he still felt those strong arms enclosed around him. In Ivan's grip it had felt safe and somehow like no harm could ever touch Alfred there. His mind had filled with images of a snowy forest and distant laughter.

Alfred swallowed hard, heart thumping. He forced the images away, reminding himself this man was dangerous and walking on the edge of insanity. His mere presence made Alfred's skin crawl.

But not his touch? asked a part of Alfred and he shut that thought away.

Alfred needed to be the hero who stood up to this dragon.

Ivan had stared at Alfred the whole time while Lord Francis, seated on Alfred's left, prattled on and on about local politics. Other high-ranking Russian guardsmen were seated on the opposite side of the table.

Alfred finally grew tired of trying to stare down Ivan, which only seemed to make the Lord happier, and focused on remembering his manners. Gilbert stood beside him, correcting Alfred under his breath.

The room they were in was ornate with Canadian Flags hanging from either wall. Russia's flags hung above the oak doors.

Pancakes with maple syrup, Canadian bacon, eggs, bowls of fruit were all laid out across the table. Alfred looked at them longingly because unfortunately for him, Gilbert had made him another one of his "burgers" and was sitting beside him, waiting for him to scarf it down.

Francis kept snickering that American burgers were disgusting and Alfred didn't have the heart to say this was most definitely not an American burger.

He took another bite and began to cram it in there, wanting to get this over with so he could get to the pancakes. He had thought about accidentally dropping it on the floor but Gilbert had assured him he'd instructed the chef on how to make them so they could throw together another in a heartbeat. Sooner or later Alfred would have to talk to Gilbert about this. Just not today.

He was in the middle of swallowing when he felt those damn violet eyes on him again. He met them and again the Russian Lord smiled and giggled. Then he did something that left Alfred flabbergasted.

Ivan picked up an apple and, using a knife, cut off slices, dipping them in and out of his mouth, before slowly drawing them inside with his tongue, never breaking his gaze from Alfred. He even bit down enough to let the juices dribble down over his chin and lick them off. It looked normal and yet so wrong.

Is it a little warm in here? Alfred thought, tugging on his collar a little.

Another bite from his burger acted like a splash of cold water in the face. He finally finished the burger and was moving onto the scrumptious-looking pancakes when he saw Russian again being strange with his food. This time it was a chunk of salami that Russia was sucking on and very slowly biting the end off. His eyes seemed to say, Tonight my little pet. Tonight.

That bastard! Alfred thought with a shiver. Why was it affecting him? He had to take charge of this. If he let Ivan influence him like this, Ivan would have control. He had to meet this challenge head on.

He grabbed a cherry, glaring at the Russian while trying keep Matthew's coy smile up. His glasses slid down his nose, but he pushed them back, putting the cherry in his mouth. I'll show that commie bastard what real seduction is! He batted his eyes rapidly at an increasingly amused Russian.

"What are you doing?" France said with sigh.

Alfred almost gave himself away by throwing the King of France a scowl, but opening his mouth, he held the cherry with his teeth, moved his tongue languidly around it. He gazed at Ivan with half-lidded eyes. Ivan cocked an eyebrow.

Alfred bit down, but his attempt to let the juices drip down his chin backfired as he bit down too hard, causing the juice to squirt out into Francis's eye.

The whole table went silent as everyone stared. Francis blinked, stunned. Lord Ivan broke the quiet, giggling at first, then laughing, and finally clapping and pounding on the table. Others exchanged nervous glances and started laughing along nervously. Alfred glanced over at a murderous-looking Francis who leaned toward him.

In a low voice, he said, "You're about as erotic as a pile of dung, American. If you want to seduce someone, I'll show you how it's done, mon cheri"

Never taking his heated gaze off of Alfred, Francis picked up a banana from the table.


"Is it hot in here or is that just my awesome self?" Gilbert said, quickly loosening his collar as he hurried out with several other Canadian nobles and Russian guardsmen. All were making a break for their quarters, saying they had something urgent to attend to.

Alfred remained at the table. His face red-hot. Unable to comprehend what he'd just witnessed. Did...did Francis just own me in a game of seduction involving food?

Francis smiled smugly, dropping the banana peel on his plate as he said, "And that, Mon Cheri, is how it's done. Now if you'll excuse me." With that he stood up, blowing a kiss at Alfred before he exited the room.

Alfred followed numbly, still flushed by what he'd seen. Only when Russia slung an arm over his shoulder did he snap out of it. Russia had been waiting just outside the exit and whispered, his cold breath tickling his ear, "A lovely dinner, da? I look forward to dessert."

Oh shit! I forgot about that! Alfred thought, but he smiled timidly and in a squeaky voice said, "Right this way, Lord Ivan. I've prepared... our room for tonight."

He had a plan. A fantastic one or his name wasn't Alfred F. Jones!


"Excuse me?" Lord Ivan said in a wry voice as they entered their room and Alfred broke from his grip, rushing over to a polished rosewood table that was beside the bed. It had two mustard-yellow cushioned chairs beside it. On top of it was a crystal bottle of vodka with two matching crystal glasses. "You want to challenge me to what?"

"To a drinking game! First one to pass out wins," Alfred said proudly, plumping down the seat. It was softer than expected so he sank into with an 'oof'.

Lord Ivan strolled over, undoing the top three buttons of his coat as he did, revealing a white silk shirt underneath. He seated himself in the other chair and asked in a bemused voice, "You? Want to challenge me? To a game with," he lifted up the topper of the bottle and took a sniff, "vodka? You're either very brave or very stupid, Prince Matthew, da? And what do I get for winning?" He said, flashing that disturbing grin.

"IF you win, you can have me do whatever you want tonight."

"I can have that anyway, da?"

"Yes, but you'll have to the whole coercion thing and that's no fun."

"I beg to differ," Ivan said, leaning forward. His violet twinkling with an evil light in the firelight that was crackling in the hearth at the back of the room.

Freaky~! Alfred thought, changing tactics. "How about because it's different. It's more exciting when you win something. Besides don't tell me the great Russian Lord is afraid I'll win."

Ivan's smile faltered and he snickered, "You?! Beat me. Impossible, da?" He grabbed the vodka bottle and filled both their glasses, shoving one to Alfred as he said, "I'll tell you want my sunflower," Alfred frowned, "If you lose you will do anything and EVERYTHING I ask tonight. Understand?"

"And if I win, you have to do what I want."

"Oh?" Ivan smirked, giggling again. "Now I really look forward to watching you weep."

Alfred barely suppressed his shudder at another of Russian's smiles. He smiled coyly and twiddled his fingers before picking up his glass and clinking it against Ivan's as he said, "Let the games begin."


It was official. The commie bastard was not human in Alfred's opinion. Is there nothing but Vodka in that man's veins? he lamented in his head for probably the twentieth time. Twelves shots in and the man was still going strong. Luckily he was too drunk now to see through Alfred's ruse. Alfred had only drunk the first two shots. The rest he'd used a slight of hand to pour into the plant that had been carefully stationed between his chair and the wall this morning. Surviving in the wild had taught him a few things.

"Little Sunfrouerrrr," Russian slurred, swaying in his chair. "You strong drink, da?"

"Nyet, nyet," Alfred said, imitating Russia's sway. See he could be a good actor whatever Francis and Matthew thought. "No, you strong! You a beast Ivan! Like a bear!" He chuckled.

"Why...," Ivan trailed off, turning his red and bleary eyes on Alfred. "Why didn't I see it before, da?"

"See what?"

"The sun in you. My little sun," he said. Something entered his eyes. Alfred had seen that look enough times in Francis to know that it mean and he was on his feet and out of Russia's reach before Russia could say, "Nyet!"

"Don't run, pet," Ivan said, leering at Alfred as he stood up. "I'll be gentle. Come here, pet," he said, waving for Alfred to heel. When Alfred stood his ground, using his chair as a shield, Ivan took a step toward him, but the alcohol was finally taking effect. Ivan's eyes rolled up and he fell to his left, landing on the large bed.

"Oh thank God!" Alfred sighed in relief. He could finally get some sleep. He paused, staring down at the passed out Russian. An idea had entered his head. A brilliant one. A smile crept up his face.


Ivan had not dreamed anything pleasant in decades. He could not remember that time in his life when he had dreamed of happy things.

He believed nothing remained of those days.

That night, however, he had a pleasant dream.

He stood in an endless field sunflowers under a crystal-blue sky. The flowers stretched to the horizon and beside him stood someone. He desperately wanted to turn to his companion who held his hand tightly with their warm one, but he could not. His neck would not obey him.

Ivan knew if he looked the dream would come crashing down.

Let me in, said a voice, an enchanting one that he recognized.

My sunflower, Ivan realized, feeling the warm sunlight on his skin. I've found you.

Suddenly, the hand slipped from his and he turned, wanting to stop his Sunflower from leaving him. He could not, Ivan would not allow it. As he turned the dream shattered and Ivan cried out as he felt tumbling into the chasm. Into the darkness where the gnashing teeth and the horrors of his ruined soul waited.

Sunflower! He cried.

Ivan jerked awake, wishing he was in the dream. His head ached like a bag of bricks had fallen on it. For once Ivan may have drunk too much vodka. He blamed those intoxicating violet eyes with their odd tint of blue. After the fifth shot, Ivan had been too mesmerized by how the soft lips of his pet touched the glass. He kept wondering how that mouth would taste.

Would it be like sunshine?

Ivan frowned, realizing he could not move.

His hand and feet were bound to the bed by a rope. His hands to the head and his feet to the edge of the bed. That wasn't the only odd thing. He was naked and from the feel of the covers on his skin, completely naked. Who had done this? Who had dared?

His eyes went to his side. The Canadian Prince was cuddled up beside him, shirtless and warm like a summer sun. Despite the situation, he did pause to admire the boy's toned shoulders and arms. Matthew keeps himself in that kind of shape? Ivan wondered with delight, then he remembered his situation.

He strained agains the bonds, his anger growing by the second. He was as ready to ravish the boy as much as he was ready to strangle him. "Wake up!" he growled, nudging the boy with his hips.

"Hmmm...," the young Prince muttered, running a warm hand up Ivan's chest. Ivan froze. A certain part of him was getting excited about this situation. Never before had he liked even the slightest the idea of being the one tied up. This realization made him both furious and intrigued. He didn't know if he would whip the boy or take him when he got free or both.

"GET UP!" he snapped and Matthew stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Was it just the early morning light or did his eyes seem a bit more blue than before?

"Something wrong?" Matthew asked, sitting up, his hands leaving Ivan's chest. Ivan missed their loss. The covers fell down enough to reveal that the Prince still had on his white boxers much to Ivan's disappointment.

"What did you do?" Ivan demanded. "Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"Oh, here and there," Matthew said, glancing around. The scarf was on the chair. His coat was beside the bed. The rest he couldn't see. Matthew gave a small smile and said, "You were so wild last night."

"What do you mean?" Ivan said, frowning. Never in his life had he blacked or done things he couldn't remember while drunk. Never since his childhood had anyone dared to do such things to him though.

"Want me to show you what happened?" Matthew asked in a lust-filled voice as he leaned over Ivan's chest, bringing his face within kissing distance. His warmth breathe that spoke of honey and summer breezes tickled Ivan's nose. Once again he felt a stirring down there. He couldn't believe it. What was this? Since when did he enjoy being toyed with? Just who was this Prince of Canada?