Russian Trade chapter 7 (Welcome back, I hope this is good enough to read!)

Last chapter:
Matthew inhaled Ivan's smell and almost found it alerting as his clothing was pried off by two strong hands. Matthew was held in place against his weak attempts of protesting against getting forcefully undressed. He was afterwards laid under the covers to wait for the poorly made stew. Ivan himself had ordered him to not fall asleep.

But sleep called for him. It whispered sweet of sweet free freedom promises into his ear...

Now, continuing:
Matthew lied under the covers, no strength left to push against them. They warmed his cold, sweaty body more than he saw needed. Ivan sat by the bed on a chair, and he didn't look very happy with the Canadian's choice making.
"How could you!? You made me worried," Ivan almost shouted. He didn't get an answer as fast as he would liked, even if he knew the answer already. Matthew didn't like being held captive.

Matthew looked back up at the ceiling.
"I was supposed to run away," he silently admitted.
"By starving yourself to your own grave?" the Russian man shot in before continuing. "That's really a wonderful plan. I would really like that, yes." the sarcasm was very clear as the words rolled off Ivan's tongue.

He swore in Russian when he didn't think the other man listened to him. But Matthew heard it all. He even tried out one of them to test Ivan's reaction. The word tasted foreign on his tongue.

Ivan turned around as soon as he heard one of the bad words he'd just said and scolded Matthew with a faint angry blush on his cheeks.
"Did you just call me a hoe, Matvey? You really can be childish and improper sometimes, but that one went over the line." oh the irony. The mob boss had literally put the words into the mouth of the other man.

At the evening, Matthew was brought his evening meal by a concerned looking Ivan Braginski. He didn't want to eat much, as he still suffered from the bad stew made by the eyebrow king.
"The stew looked like he'd killed a seagull, ripped out everything, guts and veins, and stuffed it with a castrated beaver. It tasted nasty and perverse." Matthew received no comment on that one, the urge to feed him and make him OK was burning stronger in Ivan's mind. He sat down in a chair by the bed and placed the plate of food on his lap.
"Try to sit up so I won't make a mess, Matvey."

Matthew's eye twitched at the name Ivan used on him. That was not his name! But he did as he was told, as he didn't have much authority with this man, or any of the others in the Russian mafia either, in that perspective.

After eating, Matthew turned his back to the other man and tried to think of happier things. Like... he was going to get a good night sleep for once in a big fluffy bed. Good, undisturbed sleep.

Boy, how he was wrong!

Few hours later:
Ivan stepped into the room at midnight, looking fucked and pretty intimidating. His hair and clothes were soaked through with a mix of wet and dried blood, making him the lord of scariness.

To Matthew's surprise, Ivan seemed fine and unhurt, so he came to realize that Ivan had done something very bad as he peeked through his eyelids. The said man looked at him with a dirty look, as if he knew Matthew was awake.

Matthew kept up his act of sleep when the Russian started undressing before him. He had a hard time laying still as he heard layer after layer of clothing dropping to the floor. 'Is he naked yet?' The Canadian thought before opening one eye to look. Holy mother of god, the Russian man had something to show off, and yet he hid it.

The man on the bed felt a strange kind of arousal. It was unbelievable, it was wonderful, and it was scary.

Ivan finally dropped his underwear and walked to the bathroom connected to the room like a king. He simply didn't care about his nakedness. The blond haired captive heard water being gathered up in the bathtub and he hoped Ivan would take too long. He wanted to close his eyelids and drift off to ignorant bliss.

A wet splashing sound told Matthew Ivan sat down in the bath tub. His voice was carried along to the bedroom along with the sound of restless water. It didn't matter much that it was his voice, but what he said;
"Matvey, come here." as a reaction to the command, Matthew's body stiffened. He didn't know if he dared to either do as he was told or just lie in the bed.

After three minutes, Matthew still lied in the bed.
"Matvey," Ivan's voice started to turn irritated. "Come." lifting the covers to check if he indeed wore some sort of loincloth, Matthew breathed a breath of relief. Yes, thank god, he still wore his underwear. At least that wasn't ripped off his body as a react to him being sick.

Matthew glided off the bed in a nervous manner and made his way to the bathroom. His breath got caught in his throat as he saw Ivan, completely undressed, sitting in the tub. He looked pretty relaxed, that was sure.
"Matvey," he purred and opened his arms while grinning. "Come sit between my legs. We'll have some fun together."

Matthew felt his whole body warm up and his face became red ad he pictured what kind of sick 'fun' Ivan wanted.
"What do you mean by 'fun'..? And why are you covered in blood?" he stood and played nervously with his thumbs as he asked.
"Get your underwear off, and I'll show you what kind of 'fun' I want us to do."

"The blood belongs to a hostage we just installed here. His manners seeped through the ropes we bound him with, it seems. Get in." the Canadian man slid off his underwear and stepped into the tub. What did he have to hide? He was a male too.

Red bubbles parted to his movements as he sat down in the hot water mixed with blood. Ivan closed his arms around the other male, holding him closer than Matthew would have liked. The big, rough hands felt their way over his torso, seductively stroking against his nipples before travelling further south.

"H-hey," Matthew said, trying to distract himself from what was happening to him. "Tell me about this hostage, please."

"You won't like it," Ivan said as he started stroking the other man's half hard cock. His eyes had a different light, making him look like a predator.

"Tell me anyways..!"

"It's your own fault if you start crying."

Ivan sighted before speaking;

"He's loud." he started, tightening his hold on the man in front of him, moving his hand quicker, feeling the other's body respond.

"What e-else?" Matthew asked and held back a moan.

"We took his glasses. He got mad." the Russian man tried to look sorry, but he felt nothing like sorry. He felt delighted and in control.

"Who is he? Aah!" the captive bit back a groan.

"Your brother. You're bathing in his blood," Ivan said before biting down on the other man's shoulder.

"What..!" Matthew felt his heart skipping two beats when his brain finally caught up. His brother had been beaten to a bloody pulp. Maybe he was dead?

A/N:

I'm going to add a sick twist to this, I promise. Please review, I appreciate it! :D