WARNING! This is the chapter that earned the M rating! I think you could skip this chapter if you wanted to and still keep up with the story, though I would advise reading the last three sentences.

Love?

Chapter 6: Together

"I've been dying inside, little by little. Nowhere to go, but going out of my mind in endless circles. Running from myself until you gave me a reason for standing still.

"It's falling faster, barely breathing. Give me something to believe in. Tell me it's not all in my head. Take what's left of this man; make me whole once again.

"'Cause I want you. And I feel you, crawling underneath my skin like a hunger, like a burning to find a place I've never been. Now I'm broken and I'm faded. I'm half the man I thought I would be. But you can have what's left of me."

―"What's Left of Me" by Nick Lachey

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"Fredka, not that it bothers me, but why are we in your truck?" Ivan asks after a minute of silence. After their phone calls, Alfred told him to get dressed and get in the truck, but they haven't gone anywhere, just sat in the vehicle with the air conditioning on.

"Condoms!" Alfred blurts. Then he turns red and begins to stutter incoherently.

Ivan giggles the slightest bit. "Alright, calm down. I understand what you mean."

"Oh, thank the Lord," Alfred mutters under his breath before he clears his throat. "I brought the…box that we got on my birthday, so I figured we'd use the lube in it, but I mean…I'm clean and we didn't use a condom the last time…so yeah."

Ivan pauses, seeming to put much more thought into it than Alfred thinks is necessary. After a long moment, the Russian says, "I do not want to use one, but…I do not know if it might trigger me."

"A condom can trigger you?" Alfred asks, rather confused.

Ivan nods slowly, and Alfred sees his hand slip under his scarf in a fist, likely holding his necklace. "They never used condoms, you see, so I do not know if the feeling would give me flashbacks."

"Well, if you don't want to use one, we can keep them nearby in case you change your mind, okay?"

"Da."

Alfred pauses. "What about boundaries?"

"I myself am not aware of how my body will react to another's touch in that position," Ivan says slowly before his cheeks color slightly. "I have…touched myself a few times…in those places, but never with anyone in particular in mind."

Alfred has to literally pinch his arm so that his mind doesn't wander to the images that now flood his mind.

Ivan continues, "I should not have any problems with kissing, but I ask that anywhere you touch, you touch very lightly at first before adding pressure. I do not want to be treated as if I am broken, but I know that it may have to be that way the first time."

"Okay, I can do that. Just make sure that you tell me what I'm doing right and wrong," Alfred says.

"Da." Ivan pauses in thought for a moment, trying to remember what Francis told him. "We must go very slowly, and I think it will be best if I lead your hands to new areas."

Alfred nods.

"And if I have flashbacks, we will have to wait a few minutes, I would think."

"Yeah, and if you have a panic attack, I fixed up the backseat, so you can stay in here."

Ivan frowns for a moment before he glances behind him. Sure enough, the seats have been pulled up, and the floorboard is covered in a few pillows and blankets. He smiles. "Thank you, Fredka."

"It's no biggie." Alfred leans forward and presses a kiss to the Russian's cheek. "Anything else?"

Ivan shakes his head. "I do not think so."

Alfred turns off the truck, and once they both are out of the vehicle, Alfred takes Ivan's hand in his and leads him to the sleeping bag laid out in the grass. Kicking off his sandals, the American sits down and waits for Ivan to step out of his boots a little more gracefully.

"Would it be easier if you straddle me?" Alfred asks as Ivan lies down in front of him.

After a moment, the Russian shakes his head. "Nyet, I want to be in this position."

"Okay, if that's what you want."

Alfred leans forward, now on his hands and knees over his partner, who looks up at him calmly. Much more calmly than Alfred thinks is fair in this situation.

"Fredka."

"Yeah?"

Ivan giggles and reaches up, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck. "Are you going to kiss me or stall all night?"

When Alfred finally rests his weight on the other, their lips meet gently and carefully. But Ivan continues to remind him that he's not as fragile as Alfred thinks, one arm holding their chests flush together and the other hand stilling the American's head while Ivan moves his lips more forcefully against Alfred's.

I am not broken, Alfred hears in his head as their tongues slide together.

So he pushes back. He doesn't let Ivan explore his mouth freely without earning it in a dominance battle, and then that tongue is evading his, making him chase and press harder like the first time they kissed.

When they break apart, Ivan pants slightly, but Alfred immediately goes to work on his jaw, kissing and lightly nipping. While he does this, he feels large hands moving down his body and pulling at his t-shirt, and in less than a second, the shirt is discarded. Only then does Ivan unwind his scarf from around his neck. He sets it aside with much more care than Alfred used on his shirt before he leans back again and tilts his head, baring his neck.

"This is okay?" Alfred murmurs against the scarred flesh before he kisses lightly.

"Mh, da. Very sensitive." Ivan exhales slowly. "If I want you to stop and cannot find words, I will tap, da?"

"Alright."

After Alfred leaves several hickeys on Ivan's neck, the Russian sits up just enough to pull his shirt off. Once he lies back down, he takes Alfred's free hand and lays it on his stomach.

Light touches, Alfred reminds himself before he starts to trace Ivan's scars with his fingertips. He feels shivers run through Ivan's body and he pauses.

"I like it," Ivan murmurs, his own hands resting on Alfred's back. "Is new, that is all."

Alfred glances up to make sure Ivan is telling the truth, and the Russian is watching Alfred's hand, though the way he is craning his neck doesn't look too comfortable. Pulling away for a moment, Alfred reaches for their shirts, balling them up into a makeshift pillow for Ivan's head.

Ivan seems to relax a little. And it's as new to Alfred as it is to Ivan; he usually only touches the scars on Ivan's back, not his front, and as he slowly escalates from dancing fingertips to exploring hands, he finds that Ivan is just as sensitive here as his neck. Enough so that within a few minutes, his breathing is much heavier and his body is flushed, and one of his hands threads into Alfred's hair. "Fredka, your mouth. Mh, please?"

Alfred is more than happy to oblige, and he starts with the X-shaped scar on Ivan's collarbone. First, a kiss right in the center before he trails his tongue through the dip in the pale skin, and Ivan whimpers, "Good. Mh…good, Fredka."

He gives every scar the same attention, tracing it with his tongue while his hands massage Ivan's waist with slow circles. All the while, Ivan pants and whispers encouragements.

When Alfred brushes his lips against one of Ivan's nipples, there's a gasp, followed by Ivan arching into the sensation. Alfred darts his tongue out and licks at the little bud, and then everything stops. The arms on his back slacken, the heavy breathing becomes shallow, and the legs that were previously working their way up to wrapping around his waist, they just fall open.

"Ivan?" Alfred pulls away. "You okay?"

Ivan's eyes are half-lidded, the violet blank and staring ahead, and tears have gathered in the corners.

Alfred opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it and opts to shake his partner's shoulder. Panic attacks don't work like this, right? Is he having a flashback then? Artie didn't say he would just check out on me!

"Ivan!"

Ivan jolts, blinking for a moment, but before Alfred can say anything, he rolls onto his side and curls in on himself. Alfred sees his breaths become more rapid.

"Are you having a panic attack?" Alfred asks as he hastily pulls away.

Ivan shakes his head quickly.

"Flashbacks?"

Nodding, Ivan reaches for him, and Alfred moves closer, lying on his side. Violet eyes are wide, but they stare at the American, even as Ivan continues to hyperventilate. A hand finds his and crushes it in a tight grip, followed by a short and quiet, "Talk."

"Talk?" Alfred repeats. He stares at the other for a moment, at the pleading eyes full of tears. "Talk about what? You're hyperventilating and I'm freaking out, and you want me to talk about the weather?"

Ivan nods.

"Okay, clear sky. No rain in the forecast. It's…ten o'clock maybe? The squirrels and deer probably think humans can't reproduce properly."

Ivan smiles, and his breathing slows. It's a slow process, involving Alfred talking about crayfish and the time he taught Arthur how to catch them without getting pinched.

"Thank you," Ivan murmurs, still taking deep breaths.

Alfred shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have―"

"Nyet, it is not your fault. I did not know that my nipples would trigger me," Ivan says. "It should be easy to avoid from now onward, da?"

"You want to keep going?" Alfred asks in disbelief.

"Of course."

"Are you sure? We don't have to―"

"Alfred, I want to," Ivan interrupts, and his voice doesn't leave any room for argument. As Alfred wipes away the tears from Ivan's cheeks, the Russian continues, "Unless you do not wish to."

"I want to," Alfred says. His brain supplies the image of Ivan flushed and panting under him, and other parts of him want to continue with their previous activities as well.

So Alfred scoots closer, pressing his chest to Ivan's and lets his hand trail over the other's side and then back. "Is this good?"

"Da, very good," Ivan replies, wrapping Alfred in his arms as well before he relaxes against the American.

Once Ivan has calmed down mentally and is heating back up, they move to their previous position. Alfred is sure to avoid Ivan's nipples as he kisses a trail down to the other's navel, but only lingers there for a moment before he moves further up to a shallow bullet scar. His neck brushes the tent in Ivan's sweatpants, and he knows the gasp that follows is from more than his tongue.

When Alfred makes his way back up to Ivan's lips, he feels hands on his hips, pulling lightly at the waistband, and he groans into the kiss and rolls his hips forward into Ivan's. The Russian returns the noise in kind as he pushes the fabric down, though he leaves Alfred's underwear in place, much to the American's disappointment. When Ivan can't do anything more, Alfred pulls away to get the offending garment off of him. Then his lips are on Ivan's again, even more eager than before, but he doesn't do anything more than move his tongue and continue touching Ivan's most sensitive scars.

But when those hands return to his hips, pushing down slightly, he can't keep his pelvis from grinding down into the one below him.

Ivan breaks the kiss with a gasp.

Alfred moves his lips to the Russian's neck, finding another place to mark him while Ivan crosses his ankles behind Alfred's thighs. That's when Alfred realizes that the moans and gasps are a little too ragged. When he pulls away enough to look at his partner, Ivan has his eyes closed. His expression is one of ecstasy, his hips roll upwards into Alfred's, and his mouth is open so that every sound escapes. But his eyes seem a little too red, and tears fall down his cheeks.

Alfred forces himself to stop, even as Ivan continues to grind up into him, and the other opens his eyes, the violet orbs wet with tears and full of confusion. "Why did you stop?"

"You're crying," Alfred says, and as if to prove his point, he wipes away a tear that escaped from the corner of Ivan's eye when he opened them.

Ivan seems even more confused by this and reaches up to rub at one of his eyes. "Am I?" Then he frowns. "Why am I crying?"

"That's what I want to know," Alfred says. "Am I hurting you?"

Ivan shakes his head. "Nyet, it feels good."

"Are you upset?"

"Not that I am aware of."

Alfred blinks for a moment, thinking about the connotation of that sentence. "You wouldn't know if you were upset."

"Well, I am not having a panic attack," Ivan states.

"I can see that." Alfred wonders if it's normal to have a therapy session in the middle of sex. "But what do you feel?"

Ivan furrows his brow. "Pleasure."

"Anything else?"

At that, Ivan bites his lip and looks away, and Alfred immediately presses, "Tell me, Ivan."

"It is nothing―"

"It's not nothing," Alfred says.

"Even so, I can handle it."

Alfred shakes his head. "This isn't going to work if you don't tell me. Communication is important, remember? So tell me, and we can work though it together."

Ivan doesn't respond for a long moment. Then he seems to focus on something in the forest. "I do not understand what it is that I am feeling. There is pleasure; do not think that I am not enjoying this. But there is something else as well, and I do not know what to call it." He pauses, one of his hands moving to grasp the sunflower charm that has fallen to one side of his neck. "It is as if I am scared, but I am not, and my chest hurts. I want your touch, but I want you to pull away. And I feel as if you will hate me for wanting you so much."

Alfred blinks again. "Ivan, I won't hate you, regardless of whether we have sex or not."

"I know. It confuses me," Ivan murmurs.

"Do you think it's shame?" Alfred asks, though it's hard to name emotions in the first place and even more so when he's trying to process that someone like Ivan could be ashamed of anything, especially something he never had any control over.

Ivan shrugs. "I do not know, but I do not like it."

"Do you want to stop?" And Alfred has to force the question because as much as he wants Ivan to feel comfortable and safe, he also can't ignore the throb in his nether regions.

Ivan shakes his head. "Nyet, continue. Please, Fredka."

"Alright."

That's easier said than done though. Alfred can't help but feel guilty when Ivan has tears slipping down his cheeks, even though the Russian assures him that everything is alright, but Alfred is confident that Ivan will tell him if he needs to stop.

Apparently, Ivan has never experienced oral sex, which Alfred thinks he should have expected, but nevertheless, it surprises him. Ivan seems confused as to why someone would enjoy performing the act and is all but horrified when Alfred offers to do it to him, but after five minutes of explaining how nice is it to see one's partner turn into putty and to give that kind of pleasure, Ivan relents and allows Alfred to do as he pleases. And ten minutes after that, Ivan is glad Alfred convinced him, even if he's not ready to return the favor.

However, after far more preparation than is usually necessary for penetration, Ivan has a panic attack.

Alfred spends thirty minutes worried out of his mind after Ivan locks himself in the truck. When Ivan finally does return, it's more than a little awkward, but Ivan insists that he'll be okay and agrees that if he has another attack, they'll stop and try again at a different time.

But it happens. Alfred can see that it's painful in more ways than one for Ivan, and even though it's somewhat awkward for the American, they hold eye contact for the first minute of adjusting. This is particularly helpful when Alfred notices that Ivan is checking out again, but Alfred pulls him back before it becomes too serious.

For Ivan, he has difficulty comprehending that beyond the pain and inner turmoil, this feels good. Wonderful and amazing, and the tears that spill from his eyes aren't just from shame and guilt now. No, it's because he can remember how awful and horrible it was when his body was used without his consent, and this is the most intimate thing he has ever felt, even more so than when he took Alfred. He just wants it to last forever. Despite all the pain and fear it took to get here, he's so happy that he still tried and succeeded because now he can share this with Alfred.

And as Ivan shudders and pulls Alfred as close as physically possible, he whispers, "Ya tebya lyublyu, Fredka."

It pushes Alfred over the edge, and that's when his brain starts to realize what Ivan just said. It's a burst of knowledge that makes his head hurt, but it stirs up something he can't name in his heart.

As they lay together in their afterglow, Alfred starts repeating the words in his head.

"Ya tebya lyublyu, Fredka."

"I love you, Alfred."

Author Note: Well, I hope everyone enjoyed Ivan's journey from trauma to intimacy. This chapter is not about porn, but about a survivor's struggle to overcome their obstacles. And just as a disclaimer, I have not experienced anything like this, so if the portrayal is not as realistic as it should be, I apologize. Other than that, if you liked the chapter, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!

I'm sorry for the late update! I was in the car all day yesterday coming home from vacation, and by all day, I mean nine in the morning to midnight, so I didn't have time to post. Sorry !

A hint for next chapter:

Matthew's brow furrows. "Niagara trip?"

"Dude, did you seriously forget about it? I thought it was your favorite part of my birthday!"

"No, no, I didn't forget," Matthew says, looking down at his lap and shrugging. "I just thought…I mean, we normally go on the fifth, and you took Russia to Virginia, so―"

"So you thought we weren't going?" Alfred frowns in confusion. "Why wouldn't we go? I didn't think it would be a big deal if we moved it a few days later."