Infamous Basement
Starts off sorta serious...but it is not meant to be taken as something 'good'. Surh-ee-ush-lee
"So, you are here because...?"
Arthur stared up at the unexpected guest.
"I have run out of vodka. You have alcohol, da?"
Occasionally his ally, often times the cause of his nightmares, Arthur had no clue as to why
Ivan Braginski was at his door.
"Yes, I have alcohol, now please explain why you are here."
It was silent for a moment, Russia just smiling oblivious to the threatening backdrop of grey skies and lighting behind him.
"Oh for goodness sakes come in!" England hissed after an unholy amount of water had collected on his wood floors.
So he did, and the door was closed with a slam.
"Now what?" Arthur heaved, if he honestly expected to just be able no march in here and demand vodka, well...he...uh....
And then the train wreck of thoughts stopped.
And plump, rosy checks were smashed against a crimson face, their lips pushing against each others as well.
Arthur struggled to get free but couldn't and just waited for it to be over.
Ivan shoved his tongue in eagerly, exploring the sides like a child with a new toy, not noticing his firm grip on Arthur was nearly suffocating him.
Finally, Russia grew tired of the kiss, and withdrew his mouth with a sickly mmchh and let go of the nearly lifeless England, not caring that he fell to the ground, like a child forgetting about an old toy, like a child upgrading to something better.
And that something was most definitely a-a-a-a-a-alcohol.
After rummaging through the cabinets, not caring about the mess left behind, he found a blue bottle filled with a lovely clear liquid.
He popped open the top, sniffing it in with a smile.
"Would you like some Arthur?"
I think you could hear the crickets now.
"HOLD ON A SECOND! Don't you hate me? Is that poison? Are you trying to kill me?"
But Russia simply smiled, as if that made it better or any less creepy.
"You little fucker..get out of here!" Arthur was walking towards him now, anger overpowering common sense.
"I said I wanted vodka. Now I am going to drink my vodka."
England sat there for a while. He stared into the purple eyes that seemed lifeless as the glared back from over the bottle.
"How long are you planning to stay?"
"Until the vodka is gone."
It wasn't the answer Arthur actually hoped for, so he got up and went to his room to work on his embroidered pillow he was making Alfred for Christmas.
After a few careful stitches his mind switched to Russia, wondering why he was in his kitchen, how long was he really going to be there, and what really made him come here instead of the grocery store.
With his mind else where it was inevitably that a finger or two would get pricked, but when he looked down he didn't expect a river of blood to stain the white fabric and nearly cover the orange lace.
"Shit!"
He tossed the needle aside and got up in search for a band-aid.
Entering the room, he figured he'd see Russia.
But he did not expect Russia to be lying on the floor, bottle in hand, eyes closed, mouth semi open in a snore.
Well, expect the unexpected people.
_^J^_
"Ugh..." Russia moaned as he slowly came back to life.
He took the silence that followed as an opportunity to study his surroundings.
The room was cold and dimly lit, the walls were dark, and seemed to be made out of metal.
The ground was littered with toys, not the kid kind, the adult kind.
"Why am I handcuffed?"
"I will avenge the honour of Busby's Chair!"
"Are you talking about that pathetic chair I annihilated?"
England's face just flushed, and Russia took the time to notice he was holding a taser.
And was naked.
What a zinger.
Seriously, who guessed that?
Screw foreshadowing, the fact that this is rated M, and it is complete smut.
Ya'll should be wide eyed and mouths should be agape.
The Russian just smiled, and tried again, "By avenge do you mean have sex with me?"
England sort of just deflated, realising what he was about to do was stupid, but not having enough guts to stop, sort of like when you are walking the wrong way but you don't want to turn around and look like an idiot. So he filled the void with hate and moved foreword.
"You walk into my house, drink my beverages, stay unwelcome, and now you expect to be snarky. Dare say, you are a bigger git then America!"
Then Arthur put to use to the weapon in his hand, simply smirking as he watched the bigger, stronger man vibrate violently against the metal encasings around his wrist and ankled that held him suspending slightly in the air.
Drool pooled around Russia's mouth, and Arthur felt compassion and stopped, nonetheless delighted in the two marks left on pale skin.
"Are you ready then?" England asked the limp body.
"Ready for what?" It replied.
Arthur stuck out his hand, unzipping Ivan's pants with one hand and stroking his thigh with the other.
Once the troublesome denim was low enough for Arthur to reach the prize, he grabbed the quickly hardening member and caressed it through the underwear.
Which were totally whitey tighties and not the manly boxers with sunflowers and lead pipes everyone expected.
"Do you enjoy massaging my penis?"
Well what a mood killer.
I know, penis is awkward to read in a smut story.
I hope you weren't expecting to get off on this.
Not replying he grabbed the scarf around Ivan's neck, pulling it off while slighting strangling him.
And then it tossed on the ground.
And the room was silent and felt colder then the cold it normally was.
"You have been naughty, I don't like it when people take away my scarf," Russia was smiling though, but his body became less limp and more superhuman and with a groan the handcuffs broke into pieces, falling to the ground.
Lets picture that in dramatic slo-mo.
You did?
Good.
And after the broken metal bits clanked on the ground, and Russia stood up to his full height, it was completely silent.
"Why, you wanker, now I'll have to buy a new pair of handcuffs."
And this time the taser wasn't merciful, it buzzed on long after the drool formed lakes, long after his eyes were closed.
_^J^_
"Uh-uh-nng..ngg."
Russia woke up to the sounds of pants, desperate moans, and cries.
He looked over and saw Arthur running on the treadmill.
"Fucking...exercise..."
He looked down and saw the scarf around his neck, his skin perfect of any recent scars, and his clothes still on.
He smiled, that was one messed up dream.
"Thanks for the drinks. You enjoyed it, da?"
He didn't wait for an answer, but when he got up to leave, god damn his ass was sore.
Oh yeahhh, crappy stories FTW.
No?
Okay...
Please review.
I'll review yours if let me now you read this by reviewing...
Oh, also sorry about the lack of actual smut and the surplus of annoying commentary by yours truly.
I blame my Russia because I really can't write about a sexual Ivan when my Russia is so...same-gender-as-me-kinda-thing not that I don't like homosexuality. I am a YAOI fangirl after all.
So, who's next? I run off of suggestions...because I only have two more ideas, and after that this story goes dormant.
And yes I know this Russia sucks. I honestly can't write him. But holy fizzlenets, practice makes perfect practice makes perfect sense to meeeee
Golly gee I love that song.
Okay have a good week(end) guys!
Peace, love, and Joe's Crab Shack.
HarponMOO is out =D