Chapter 25: Let the Games Begin

(Smutterific! Sorry not the best written. I got a little bored and wanted to get to the next chapter so forgive me if it gets a little long at times. I was lazy ~)

"Vodka!" Alfred yelped, ducking out of the chair as Ivan snatched at him. The clattering of his hastily dropped fork on the plate rang through the air as Ivan stared at him, confused. "Let's drink vodka!" Alfred declared, sidling around the table and the other chair to the edge of the bed. He bent down, pulling out the bottle and two shot glasses with one hand.

"A challenge?" Ivan groaned in annoyance, not even bothering with a smile.

"Not quite," Alfred said, a nervous titter in his voice. C'mon what are you anxious about? He told himself. "Hey, sit down, I'm pouring," he continued, placing the stuff on the table before directing Ivan onto the bed.

Now to do this without being spotted, he thought, his eyes searching, bingo. He grabbed the empty plate and shoved it at Ivan, he asked, "Snowflake, would you put this outside?"

"We can do that later," Ivan protested, but Alfred insisted. Ivan gave him a look of, you owe me, and headed over. Alfred wasted no time, yanking his pants on, he reached into the pocket, sparing a couple glances of his shoulder, he pulled out the pouch, yanked off the twine, and emptied the contents into Ivan's glass. By the time Ivan returned, Alfred was holding up the man's glass, letting the vodka swirl around in it.

He put his grin on ultra high as he said, "Thirsty my m-mint Muffin?" Dammit, there it was again. While this was the first time he'd ever drugged someone's drink, he wasn't a virgin to pulling a one over on someone. So why was he so nervous. Coz it's the murderous Lord Ivan, perhaps? His head answered. He wanted to hit it. Why did his head have to be so sarcastic?

"How disappointing," Ivan said, looking down to up on Alfred. "You put your pants on."

"Well, I was embarrassed," Alfred said and he was. Only during storytelling did he feel comfortable being naked because then he was in the moment.

"Cute," Ivan purred. He took the drink and kissed Alfred's lips. Alfred leaned away, laughing, "C'mon man, don't put my hard work to waste. Chug it! Chug it!"

Ivan studied him and then the glass, rolling it back and forth, he smiled and replied, "I would not dream of wasting your efforts." He lifted it to his lips and paused, asking, "Is something the matter, pet?"

Alfred averted his gaze, realizing he'd been staring, He stammered, "N-No, not at all. You just looked so sexy." It wasn't entirely a lie.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Alfred tensed.

"What do you mean?"

"Drink with me. I remember last time," Ivan said, staring away sadly. "The problems of that morning." Alfred started reaching to touch the faded bruises on his throat and stopped himself, letting his hand fall back to the table.

Alfred forced a laugh, saying, "Ha, ha, don't worry about it. All water under the bridge."

Ivan's smile changed subtly. Alfred couldn't say what it was, just that it became lifeless somehow. "What about you, Sunflower?" Ivan asked, nodding toward the other glass. "You will drink too, da?"

"O-Of course!" Alfred agreed, whirling around he poured himself one, his hands shaking a little. Stop it, he snapped at himself. He was the hero, not some coward.

Coming back to face Ivan, he could have turned into a puddle of relief at the sight of Ivan's empty glass and Ivan swallowing. Mission accomplished, he thought, relaxing. Now it was just a waiting game.

"More," Ivan ordered, holding out his glass, that eerie grin plastered to his face. Alfred gulped down his and obliged them both. They clinked to their second round and downed more. Alfred coughed a little as the searing liquid oozed down his throat. God, how can Russians drink this stuff?

"Come, my love," Ivan urged, setting his empty glass down, he fell back onto the bed, spread eagle. Patting beside him, he said, "Talk with me."

"Okay~" Alfred chimed, watching for signs that it was working. What is supposed to happen? Alfred wondered. Gilbert had kind of rushed the explanation. Crawling on all fours, a little buzzed from the two shots, he was yanked onto the man's chest when Ivan hooked a hand around his nape and pulled him down.

Alfred lay there, ear against that cool chest, listening to Ivan's very slow heartbeat. Is that normal? He wondered, forgetting his thoughts as Ivan's soft fingers smoothed his hair. It was soothing and he found himself sleepy.

No, he chided himself, forcing himself to stay awake. "Ivan," he began.

"Da?"

"How old are you?" He could be random too. Besides if direct family questions were off the table, there were other indirect ways to learn Ivan's story.

"I believe thirty."

"Thirty?" Alfred gasped, jerking up, staying in a hovering position over Ivan's chest. My God, he's ancient! he thought, but he doesn't look that much older than me. "Wait, what do you mean believe?"

"I never celebrate my birthday so I often forget," Ivan replied, yawning.

"You don't celebrate your birthday?" Alfred exclaimed in horror. It was the most tragic thing he'd ever heard of. "That's...that's awful! I mean what about birthday cake, presents, and," he gasped again, "pin the tail on the donkey! How can you miss out on all that?"

"I do not enjoy parties," Ivan stated.

Alfred opened his mouth about to say, then it's settled. Your next birthday I'll hold you such a party, but catching the fallacy in those words, he said instead, "That's too bad."

He put himself back against Ivan's chest and for a time they stayed there in silence. A little bored, he started tracing circles across Ivan's stomach, enjoying the coolness. Feeling playful, he tweaked Ivan's right nipple. Ivan grunted and tightened his embrace of Alfred. One of his hands when to Nantucket, teasing it.

Aflred bit back a moan as his groin twitched. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt turned on. His lips went to Ivan's stomach, kissing up until they found the man's other nipple; he tongued it.

Nantucket was tugged at and rubbed. Ivan dragged Alfred up higher until their lips and tongues were meeting. The arm encircled around Alfred's waist went to his nipple, pinching it. Alfred groaned in Ivan's mouth, bucking his hardness into Ivan's abs. He could feel Ivan's length pressing into his thigh.

Ivan suddenly grabbed Alfred's shoulders and pulled him back, asking, "Sunflower, you love me, da?"

Alfred blushed. Way to interrupt a moment, he thought, spluttering, "What kind of question is that?" It was one he didn't know how to answer. Love to him was always something that ended with two people riding off into the sunset, something he couldn't imagine doing with Ivan. Loving Ivan was too complicated. There were so many dark things about the man that Alfred's head spun just thinking about it.

Not wanting to lie, but not wanting to answer, "no", Alfred did the best thing he could think of and said, "I'm not sure."

Ivan's smile remained stoic and his expression unreadable. He placed a hand on Alfred's cheek and where his middle finger touched in the hair just above Alfred's left ear there was a sharp zap.

Alfred yelped, jumping back, he clutched at the spot. It stung. "What was that? Did you pinch me?"

"No," Ivan said, shaking his head. "It was static, da?"

"I guess so," Alfred said, rubbing at it. Before he could say anything else, Ivan seized his right wrist and yanked him into a fierce kiss. Ivan's other hand roamed Alfred's back, teasing his ass crack.

Did Gilbert give me a sleeping point or an aphrodisiac? Alfred wondered, unable to believe how horny Ivan was. Or how he himself was, but that had to be the vodka.

"Ivan," he panted, fumbling at the man's clothes. They were naked moments later. "Let me...," he managed as Ivan threw his pants aside, "...inside you."

Ivan froze, facing Alfred with widened eyes. Alfred tensed at that dark expression, sure he would be yelled at, but Ivan, to his shock, answered, "Very well."

"Really?" Ivan nodded. It would be Alfred's first time in anyone.

He leaned over the bed, fumbling for the lube, he never found it. Ivan grabbed his wrists and threw him on his back, pinning his hands against the bed board. "Wha...," he trailed off, as Ivan placed both knees on either side and grabbed Alfred's stalk positioning himself. "You're kidding," Alfred said. He wouldn't..., but he did. With no preparation, Ivan impaled himself on Alfred's member.

"You're in...ah...ah," Alfred gasped, lost in Ivan's tight hole. What have I been missing out on? he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Ivan waited only a moment to adjust and then lifted himself off and went down again.

Jolted by the force, Alfred opened his eyes. Ivan's brow was furrowed in concentration and the man purred as he began rocking against Alfred. Doesn't it hurt? Alfred wondered, but he loved it at first until Ivan started slamming himself up and down on Alfred with almost bone-crushing force.

"S-Stop, not s-so...nggh...rough," he winced, thrusting a little into Ivan. Ivan sped up and it became more painful and slicker. Alfred figured out why. His lap and stalk were coated with Ivan's blood. "My God, stop!" he said, but Ivan rode him faster and harder.

He wriggled and struggled, but Ivan's grip was iron. Ivan's eyes were shut and the man was biting his lip, grunting, lost in his own ecstasy. He's enjoying the pain? Alfred realized, stunned.

His horror only grew as Ivan tossed his head back, moaning and grunting, as he slammed down on him wildly. Alfred worried the bed would collapse beneath them. He struggled harder, wanting away from the bruising force, but Ivan held him.

Clenching his teeth, he tried to focus on the pleasure of Ivan's dark cavern. He needed to climax to stop this, but it was too painful to give him release and yet to pleasurable for his erection not to stay rock-hard. He was stuck between the two while Ivan rode him hard.

On and on it went, Alfred begging for release. Ivan cried out and groaned in ways Alfred had never heard before. "Sunflower!" He kept saying in between his other sounds. Finally, his muscles clenched around Alfred and he slowed. The pleasure overrode the pain and heat pooled in Alfred's groin, he released into Ivan, thrusting hard. Hoping it hurt, because damn was he pissed!

Ivan rocked against Alfred a little longer, his seed spurting out in ribbon's over Alfred's chest as he gasped and panted, collapsing on top. He let go of Alfred who wasted no time, shoving him to the side, not like the feel of cum sandwiched between them.

"You ass!" Alfred griped, gaping in shock at his bloody lap. He tried to stand, but sat back down, pain shooting through him. He would be so bruised.

"What?" Ivan said sleepily, shutting his eyes and setting his forehead against Alfred's forehead.

"Look at this!" Alfred said, gesturing at the mess. "I mean, what the hell!" Ivan was already dozing. "Fucker," Alfred muttered. Alfred never thought he'd think it, but he preferred Ivan inside him. That was screwed up, he thought.

While he fumed in his head, his eyelids drooped and at some point he fell asleep.

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Alfred's eyes popped open. I dozed. Shit, he thought, sitting up. His glasses were still on if a little askew; he adjusted them. There was no way to know how long he had been out, but judging from the fire not too long. It had not yet burned down to embers. But he had been out long enough for the sun to set.

He studied Ivan. Ivan was snuggled up against him, most of his upper torso uncovered.

Is the potion working yet? He wondered, deciding to do a test. He reached over with his hand and poked Ivan's cheek, pulling away fast. Nothing. Ivan's breathing remained steady, the covers rising and falling.

More daring, he did it again, prodding Ivan's forehead, chin, nose, eye, all over his chest, and yes, down there too. Nothing. He steeled himself for the ultimate test and held up his other hand, ready to catch Ivan's punch, he pinched Ivan's side. Nothing.

Sighing in relief, he slipped out of the covers, rounding up his clothes and scrubbing himself off with wet rag from the wash basin as he called Ivan, "Idiot." When nothing happened he continued with, "Moron, jerkface, commie bastard...," and more until he had cleaned himself off, dressed and had taken a folded piece of parchment from one of the books on the shelf and stuffed that in his pocket.

There was no reaction. Emboldened, he clambered onto the bed, straddling Ivan he leaned over, feeling the man's cool breath on his lips. He's kinda handsome, Alfred admitted, sure it was the lingering effect of the Vodka on his brain. He shut his eyes and gently kissed the man, savoring that minty taste. He sighed and rolled off. Pulling his dagger out from between the mattresses, he tucked it in one of his belt loops.

He glanced longingly at the chessboard, wishing he could take it with him. Alfred rather shared an enjoyment of the game with Ivan even if he did lose a lot. One day I'll crush him, Alfred believed and that motivated him to improve.

At the door, he turned back, opening it a little, he said the one thing he'd been aching to tell Ivan for a while now, "You are...," he paused, reaching deep into his heart, "a real jackass," and slipped out, shutting the door quietly.

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He walked backwards for a few feet, wincing at the pain in his thigh muscles. He watched the door, just to be sure he wasn't followed. Alfred didn't know why he was being so paranoid, but he'd been having a bad feeling all day. Rolling heel to toe, he continued backwards until he passed the tower stairs, his ears straining for the slightest sound. Silence.

Again the area above his left ear tingled and he scratched at it. Maybe a mosquito bit it earlier and Ivan's finger just rubbed on that, he considered, turning around. He hurried for the tapestry room.

Once there, he was not so eager. Clinging to the door knob like a life line, he scanned the room. With only starlight to see by, it had an eerie, downright haunted air about it.

Oh shit, he thought, gulping. Ivan's bed was suddenly so much more appealing than this ghostly-haven. His was growing more and more positive there had to be a headless spirit of evil floating about here somewhere. This is just spook central, he thought.

Tapping into the deepest reserves of his courage, he whispered, "G-G-Gilbert?" His eyes strained for sign of the pale man, gazing at the fireplace. In his mind, he visualized the figures on the mantel coming alive and writhing, their faces twisted in demonic grins.

His feet were already turning to bolt for Ivan's room when a voice hissed, "Idiot! What took you so long? I was just about to go risk a look."

Alfred sagged in relief, looking around, he whispered, "Gilbert?"

"No, it's the fucking tooth fairy! Who do you think it is?" Gilbert said, throwing back the tapestry to reveal a hidden opening in the wall that he was crouched in. It was foot up from the floor and only large enough for Alfred to fit in if he crawled.

Oh, so it was behind the tapestry, Alfred thought. Gilbert waved at him impatiently, sniping, "What? Are you going to stand there all night with your thumb up your butt or what?"

Why did I want to see him again? Alfred wondered, frowning, but he came over as Gilbert stepped out and let him crawl inside. The stone tunnel widened abruptly four feet in and there was sharp drop off. Alfred not seeing it, tumbled over, face planting in the stone.

"Oh, watch for the drop off," Gilbert now warned. Alfred threw a glare at him, rubbing his bruised nose as he stood up. The ceiling was a foot too low still so he had to keep his neck bent. There was a low scarping noise and he glanced back to see their only light source cut off by the stone door closing.

A click followed and he heard Gilbert pad over and then the albino's hand came on his shoulder urging him forward as Gilbert said, "Let's go. Be careful it turns into stairs that wind sharply down. At the bottom I left my lantern so we won't be in darkness for long."

Alfred nodded even though Gilbert couldn't see that. Keeping his hands on the walls, he felt forward with his feet until he found the first step. It was not just sharp, it was practically a vertical drop. He had to crab walk down the wet, grimy stairs to keep from falling. Even then it wasn't easy, they were slippery as a frog and his lap ached like a bastard in this position.

As they went down, the stale, moist smell in the air grew stronger, but the darkness lessened until he could see a little. Finally, the orange glow of Gilbert's lantern became visible and he was relieved to be able to see again and to stand almost upright.

Gilbert squeezed around him and picked up the lantern, grumbling, "This way." Alfred followed in silence for a bit, fascinated by his surroundings. The passage was crudely carved and lined in many places with moss. It feels old, he thought.

His curiosity overwhelmed him and he said, "So is this really a secret passage?"

"No, we only call it that for kicks," Gilbert replied sarcastically. "What do you think it is?"

Alfred scowled at his back, continuing, "Why did the Prince make it? He's invisible enough that I think he could parade around naked and no one would notice."

Gilbert snickered, but answered, "He didn't make it."

"Then who did?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Wouldn't know. Never asked."

"How come?"

"Never cared to. It's enough that it's here."

That briefly ended the conversation until Alfred asked, "Where are we going?"

"Where do you think we're going?" Gilbert asked. "To his Majesty's room."

"Is it a secret room?"

Gilbert sighed heavily and they walked on in silence. Alfred got bored, his mind became occupied elsewhere, remembering how Ivan, despite being awkward to talk to, was always intriguing to Alfred. I sorta will miss that, he admitted, but he didn't know what would happen next. Would they send him back? Would he go back if they tried?

It's too complicated, he mumbled, massaging the bridge of his nose. He halted, his boot screeching on the stone. "What was that?" he breathed, scratching above his ear.

"What was what?" Gilbert asked in a low voice.

"I heard something. A scraping noise," he replied, staring deeply into the darkness behind him.

He heard Gilbert set down the lantern and slide out his sword. Alfred gripped the handle of his dagger. A tense wait followed. They listened. A squeaking noise came and Gilbert relaxed, chuckling, "Just rats."

"Are you sure? What if...," he trailed off, frightened of the possibility. He had been with Ivan so long the man had started to take on almost god-like qualities in his mind.

"Did he drink the potion?"

"Yes," Alfred answered.

"Then he's asleep. That stuff's tough to come by these days, but it can put even an Eternal to sleep."

"What's an Eternal?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at Gilbert.

Gilbert shook his head and mumbled, "Americans." He turned around and started walking again.

"But what if it's someone else... like...like...," Alfred let his voice drop off, frightened of what he was implying.

"Like what? A ghost?"

"Yes!" He gasped. Gilbert was a mind-reader!

"Stupid," Gilbert muttered, "Well, what do you want me to do if it is? I locked the door, but that wouldn't stop a ghost."

"Wow, you can lock the secret passage door thingie?"

"Nah, we just usually leave a big sign over it saying, ENTER HERE," Gilbert retorted. "Obviously we can lock it!"

"Ass," he grumbled, shooting Gilbert's back the finger.

"That's Awesome Ass to you, buddy."

Alfred rolled his eyes and they didn't speak again until they reached the end of the passage. All the while though, Alfred's eyes kept drifting behind him. Sure that there was more than just darkness there.

(END OF CHAPTER 24. What was that noise? Is this the moment you have all been waiting for? Stay tuned for Chapter 26: What Waits in Darkness!)

(I was tempted to stick in another Gilbert burger joke but it broke the tone of this scene too much and didn't really fit so I cut it. Sorry guys.)