Pairing: Ivan Braginsky x Feliks Łukasiewicz (Russia x Poland)
Summary: They never should have been together. Between the secrecy, the manipulation and the dangerous obsession, they'd never had a worse idea in their lives. They never said it was healthy, but in that moment, it was all they had.
Warnings: M rating for later chapters.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any related ideas. This is all just for fun and entertainment here.
Last night's encounter had proven one thing to Feliks: Russia had not forgotten their brief meeting in Warsaw. Then again it had been a hard meeting to forget. He knew he'd left the larger nation unsatisfied and wanting, and while that hadn't been Feliks' goal it certainly had been a bonus for him. He hadn't stopped thinking about that night since it happened. The tension between them had been undeniable and he found himself wondering what would have happened had his boss not called. Would he have returned the favor for Russia? Would he have allowed things to progress further? He was no virgin and he'd long since grown past the narrow minded human views of religion and homosexuality. He knew very well what Catholicism had to say on the matter but when one lived for centuries with no end in sight, it was very hard to subscribe to human ways of thinking when it came to these matters.
The thought of what it could have been like stayed with him over the next three weeks. What sort of lover was Russia like anyway? He couldn't imagine the large nation being gentle or slow or careful - which was just as well. Save for his Liet, Feliks had little patience for that manner of doing things. Over and over again he ran the evening through his head, giving it a different ending each time. It wasn't that he cared for Ivan. It wasn't even that he liked him. He'd always hated the other nation. With what had transpired between them in centuries past, how could he not? But the physical interest was there whether he liked it or not.
Meeting him last night had been nothing short of gratifying to Feliks. His tension was evident and the way he stared at Feliks with Toris made his jealousy plainly obvious. He didn't consider that it might have been Lithuania he wanted - no, Feliks knew very well what the Russian desired. He felt vindicated, once more as if he'd won something important. He was proud of himself. From one brief interlude he'd managed to stay on Russia's mind for three weeks. He didn't stop to consider the sheer oddity of the situation. All he knew was that the more he lingered on the jealousy and wanting in those amethyst eyes, the more he wanted to play into that and lead them into what they both undoubtedly wanted.
It was with that plan in mind that led him to where he was now, walking with Toris down to the meeting hall. He didn't miss the sideways glances that his longtime friend was giving him. Over and over those eyes would dart sideways, sweep over him and then look ahead as if he hadn't been staring at him. At last, as they made their way into the elevator, Feliks just had to say something. "Alright, out with it."
"What?" Toris asked with a wince, trying to keep himself looking as innocent as possible.
"What's wrong with my outfit?" Feliks asked incredulously. "Did I mess up my hair?"
Toris took a moment to stare at him in disbelief. "No... not your hair."
"Do I have something on me?" Feliks looked down, brushing his clothing off, checking for invisible stains.
"No ..." Toris deadpanned. "Feliks ... you're, you're wearing a skirt," he said. It was something he'd never understood about the Pole though he'd long learned to accept it. He'd seen him wear women's clothing in casual situations many times now. But at work? At a meeting? He wasn't so sure that was okay.
"And you're wearing that sweater I told you not to wear," Feliks quipped, adjusting the dark green pencil skirt that was perhaps just a bit too short to be decent. "I can wear a skirt if I want. Scotland does it."
"That's a kilt, it doesn't count and you know it," Toris rolled his eyes. "But, Feliks, really .. the heels?" He asked. "And the blouse?" The heels put them at the same height - he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't presently shorter than the Pole really - and that blouse was just ... well it was fitted and as far as he was concerned the whole thing was inappropriate. Feliks had his reasons, of course, but he wasn't sharing them and so Lithuania was left to assume the Pole was, once again, just trying to make a shocking impression.
Feliks' reply to Toris' concern was a playful pat on the cheek before leading them into the conference hall. If anyone appeared bothered by Feliks' choice in clothing, he didn't seem to notice. In fact, he ignored any and all gazes and comments directed towards him (he was admittedly a little amused at the dumbstruck look on Germany's face) save for one. The moment he entered the room with Toris, he felt those amethyst eyes upon him. Russia's stare was so intense Feliks was positive he could feel it on his very skin, making him feel far more exposed than a short skirt ever could. It was all he could do not to look right back into that hungry stare. He couldn't show just how much he returned the desire - not yet. He was unwilling to let Russia have any sort of upper hand in this game he was playing.
He took his seat beside Toris, sitting across from Russia and his sisters. He pretended to be interested as the Lithuanian lamented the rejection of his affections by Belarus yet again. Normally he'd have rolled his eyes and told him to move on, but for the time being he listened, crossing one leg over the other, chin on his hand, looking just about as enthralled as he could be. Toris was wrapped up enough in what he was saying that he didn't notice his friend's feigned interest. He'd long since come to realize that having Poland's full attention was something of an impossibility.
As Feliks half-listened to his friend speaking, he leaned in close, laughing perhaps a bit too enthusiastically when Toris said something that was supposed to be funny. He leaned in, touching his arm, murmuring something that was for his ears only. Honestly it was no more than a comment about his joke - apparently he'd stopped talking about his woes with Belarus - but to the hungry gaze across the table from them, it could have been anything he said. If the behavior bothered Toris, he didn't say anything about it until Germany called them all to order. And only then all he asked was for Feliks to quiet and give him his space so that he could take the notes that the lazy Pole would inevitably ask him for later.
As it were Feliks paid no attention, and took no notes, though this time it wasn't due to boredom or lack of interest. He was far too occupied with the man across from him.
Russia cursed his position across from Feliks. He knew damn well what the other man was up to. It seemed strange to refer to him as such with the way he looked in that outfit. He could have passed for a woman as easily as any of the female nations there, and with the way those legs looked in that skirt he just might have passed off better than many of them. He gritted his teeth, trying not to stare at the blond as he shifted in his seat, recrossing his legs. Try as he might there wasn't much chance of catching a view under that skirt - not that he would admit to looking in such a way. He found himself lost to the speech at the front of the room - not that he ever paid America much mind - as Feliks toyed with his pen, teeth closing around the cap. For all that Feliks simply looked bored and lost in the meeting, Ivan knew damn well that was not the case here. Suddenly the meeting space seemed far too warm, the speeches far too long. He needed to get out of there and get Poland alone now.
It seemed luck was with Ivan. Only ten minutes more of the inflicted torture and a fight broke out - quite predictably - between Britain and France. Of course that entailed others getting involved; Greece was quick to take the opportunity to catch a nap, Germany was off, yelling for order, America was proclaiming that he should have been given charge of the meeting ... It was all so very normal. It seemed to be the routine on the first day of meetings. It was at the suggestion of Canada - who the others nearly ignored - that the entire meeting take a half hour break to grab food or coffee ... just to give everyone a chance to leave the hot, crowded room. Russia swore he owed Canada some kind of favor for that, as he stood.
It wasn't surprising that as soon as he stepped out from his seat, Feliks turned away, now engaging Estonia in conversation. He ignored Russia as the large nation made his way over to them. While Poland appeared oblivious, his Baltic companions were not. At once, Lithuania stiffened beside him. Latvia stopped trying to enter into Estonia and Poland's conversation and stared at Russia, looking very much like a frightened rabbit. Estonia, long tired of the Russian's intimidation tactics fixed him with a hard stare, masking his habitual unease around their former superior. When the three Baltics went silent, Feliks turned in his seat and looked at Russia looming over them. "Yes?" He asked, moving in his seat in such a way that made his skirt ride up his leg a little. "Can we help you?" He showed absolutely no indication that any attention had been paid to Russia at all.
Ivan had to fight from growling low in his throat at that disrespect. "I need to speak with you, Польша,"he said tersely. He had no energy to put into intimidating the other three, though of course, his terse air may have done the job for him.
"I'm a little busy right now..." Feliks said, gesturing to the others. "Can't it wait?" He asked with a little smile that showed he knew exactly what it was that Russia wanted to talk about. He hated to admit how the other's apparent tension made him shiver with anticipation. He shouldn't be enjoying this game so much. He watched the other's jaw work, was sure he could see his very temper rising.
"нет," Ivan said firmly, shaking his head. "I must speak with you now ... before this break is over." He wasn't sure he could handle another few hours of that teasing.
Feliks gave a great sigh as if he was being terribly put out by the request. "Fine." He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the others as if to say, 'Rude' before turning to Lithuania. "Liet, will you get me a coffee? I'm totally gonna fall asleep when the meeting starts back up."
With the confirmation that Lithuania would follow through, Poland turned to Russia. "Well ... let's go, I guess," he said, and promptly led the way out, positive there were eyes (and probably not just Russia's) following him as he left the meeting hall. His cocky step led the way only until they were out of eyesight and earshot before a large hand grabbed his upper arm, half leading him, half dragging him down the hallway. "Rosja, puść mnie!" He hissed, wondering as he had that night in June if he'd pushed too much.
Only moments later his arm was released as Ivan pulled them into a smaller conference room, darkened and shut off - it was clearly not in use today. He shut the door behind him and loomed over the Pole, who to his satisfaction looked uneasy. Before he could so much as demand to be told what was going on though, Ivan stepped up, answering the unspoken question. "Twice now you've made a fool of me," he said, taking a step forward and to his pleasure, Feliks took a step back. "You spent that entire meeting teasing me - don't deny it," he added.
"I won't deny it if you're honest about how much you like it," Feliks shot back, regaining his confidence and standing his ground. The heels he'd worn put them just a little more level though he was still looking up. "Admit it, you enjoyed watching me in there," Feliks said, daring a step closer. "You couldn't keep your eyes off of me."
"How could I?" Ivan countered. "It's not often you see someone begging for attention the way you were," he stepped forward again - they were almost touching. "Whether I want you or not, that does nothing to change the fact that you've gone out of your way to entice me," he hissed lowly.
Feliks faltered before making himself close the distance between them, noses now nearly touching. "It worked, didn't it?" He challenged. Ivan offered no verbal reply. Instead he grabbed the other, placing his hands at that narrow waist and pulled him close. Their lips met - though perhaps clashed was a better term for it - with vigor. At once Feliks' arms were around the other's shoulders, and Ivan was pulling his narrow hips forward against his larger frame. Guilt and shame pooled in both of their stomachs as they gave into their baser instincts and kissed one another with abandon. Neither of them should have been in this position, and more accurately, none of them should have needed this the way they both did.
All too soon they parted for breath but neither was about to end this sudden frenzy. Ivan's lips went to Feliks' neck, exposed above the collar of his blouse just as Feliks' hands went from his shoulders to his chest. One hand slid lower still, unashamedly undoing the belt that held Ivan's trousers up. Things were moving fast now - almost too fast - and neither of them were stopping to consider anything but the other body before them. Feliks was sure his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as he succeeded in getting both the belt and the trousers undone. Save for that interlude in the airport restroom, he was suddenly quite aware of how long it had been since he'd last been with someone, but if Ivan wasn't chickening out, Feliks sure wasn't.
Ivan had to fight to contain the sound that left his lips when Feliks' slender fingers tugged his trousers open and wrapped around his arousal. All irritation he'd felt seemed to be put on pause as he focused on the other's hand - surprisingly rough for one who looked so delicate - on him. He swallowed hard, leaning against one of the tables. It seemed Feliks was giving this an earnest try as his hand picked up a decent pace. With his free hand he pulled the Russian in for another bruising kiss and it was clear that a mere hand job was not where the Pole meant to leave this. He made certain Ivan knew this wasn't the completion of it by slipping his hand from his trousers and pulling him in for yet another kiss. "We don't have much time," he hissed.
No sooner had he said that, than there was a knock at the locked board room door. "Russia, dude, you in there?" Came America's questioning voice. "They called for the meeting to start again .. so whatever weird stuff you're doing, come on." Apparently they'd gone back on the thirty minute break limit and sent him to pull anyone who was meandering in the halls back in. Apparently Russia hadn't been as smooth as he thought. Feliks whipped around and glared at the door. How did that American have the worst timing possible?!
"Tell him you'll be out in a minute," he hissed at Ivan, who was quick to comply, trying to swallow back his irritation that he'd be left to go back to the meeting like this.
Ivan's quick reply seemed to have satisfied the nation outside, because they were once again left in silence. "Later," Feliks said, hushed. "My room." He grabbed one of the pens from the white board at the side and took Ivan's big hand, scrawling '410' on it. "Fifteen minutes after the meeting. If you're late, I won't let you in," he said dismissively and pulled away, trying to pull himself together.
Ivan was just a little irritated at the quick dismissal, but with the promise of another meeting after the day's conference had ended, he was pacified. After all, now his fantasizing wasn't in vain, now was it?
Translations:
Польша - Russian for 'Poland'
нет - Russian for 'no'
Rosja, puść mnie - Polish; 'Russia, let me go'
A/N: Surprise! Who expected me to update this fast? I bet nobody did. You all had to wait so long for the last two updates. So to make up for the shorter chapter last time ... and this time too I'm posting much faster. Sorry for the tease here, I know I keep doing that to you guys but I do promise this fic is going to live up to its M rating next chapter, believe me.
Thank you so much to my new beta FanFictionFiend. You are such a good friend and a great beta. Without this person my story would be unedited, all over the place with my ideas and probably wouldn't be posted.
I just wanted to post a note about my Polish, Russian (and pretty much any other snippets used here). English is my native language and though I'm working on Polish I'm still pretty poor at it. I do my best and frankly, I don't intend on using anything more than words here and there in any language for worry of grammatical blunders. However, if I'm wrong, corrections would absolutely be appreciated! However, if you're going to be rude about it, I'd rather not have the help.
As always, please review. Concrit is always appreciated! Thanks!
