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Chapter Summary: Pushed to the breaking point, England abandons an increasingly desperate France. Meanwhile, China and Russia have a disagreement that ends in blood - just not in the way one might expect.
Ch. 2: The Sleepless Ones
October 30, 12:00 AM
He has not slept in an age, it seems, though it is really more like two weeks. Tonight he isn't sleeping either - not for anything in the world. Swallowing another cold mouthful of tea, England paces through his magic lab and tries to think of a way to block himself from dreaming. If he dreams, he will be trapped by the long, nimble talons of a man - a creature - that knows well how to use them. He's angry with that creature. Very angry. And fed up with taking care of the mystical creatures of this world. Norway can have them all now, he wants no part of it! Flipping through his most reliable spell book, he continues his search for a sleeping drought that will protect him from every advance France can (literally) dream up.
Unfortunately for England, France is already lounging on his couch, watching him pace with a smirk. Granted, the smirk is beginning to take on a desperate edge. The rose in his hand has already begun to blacken, and that is a very, very bad sign. When all the petals have changed from red to black, there will be no spell in the world to stop him from transforming into a monster. "Come, Angleterre, you know this will only make things worse."
"Shut up, you ingrate!" England paces faster now, swallowing more tea and then tossing the mug back into the sink. He'll fill it up later, when France starts touching him again. He'll need something to distract himself. "Just - Just leave me alone! I want nothing more to do with you!"
"Oh come now, cheri, we both know that is not true! Just look at you, all flushed and jittery. Why, you would think you had never done this before!" France sits up, draping himself over the back of the couch so that his shirt falls open. "If you want to play that game, I can be gentle."
"I said go away!" England cries out, pacing to the far side of the room where he keeps all his stored potions. "Leave me alone, go find another partner! You've got the whole rest of the world, just leave me be!"
"You know I cannot." France says seriously, hoping that a little less seduction might work on his stiff friend/lover/enemy. It doesn't seem to. "You're my favorite," he adds, coating every word with honey. "You're so close by, and you understand, you know what it means for me."
England's resolve cannot waver, and yet it does. His shoulders shake and sag, because he does understand. However, he can't be the one to deal with it any longer. "I can't, Francis. I can't be a part of this. You're driving me mad, you're all driving me mad! I need you to leave. I won't be your...your partner any longer!"
That sends France into a panic. He jumps over the edge of the couch and rushes to England, wrapping his arms around him and kissing all down his neck. "But mon cher, mon amour! Where am I to go? Norway has a mind of steel, and no one else knows! No one but Gilbert, and he is gone. I cannot stand the thought of another seeing me like that. Please," he drops to his knees, "please!"
Oh Good Lord, the sight of France on his knees like that, the kisses, the way his hands are clinging to his clothes... "I can't, I can't!" England has to run, flee, get himself away and STAY AWAKE, because the moment he falls asleep he may give in.
"Arthur!" France shouts after him. But the man is running down the hall, and he is sure England will disappear if he tries to catch him. Damn it all. Maybe he can try talking to Norway; no, that venture is likely to be even less successful than this. Maybe a nice round of regular sex will cool things down enough to tide him over? There should be plenty of nations around for that. On the other hand, when he goes through his mental list it seems like most of his usual lovers are unavailable. Spain is dealing with Romano (apparently something very strange is going on there). Prussia is dead.
Perhaps it's time for France to take a trip across the ocean, then, and hope the North American boys are not experiencing any of the oddities that have been plaguing the rest of them.
XXX
China has been sitting here, waiting in the darkness, for over two hours. His only movement, the tapping of his finger, is a signal to all that he should only be disturbed upon his command. Unless, of course, Russia arrives. Russia may freely disturb him. But Hong Kong, who has been living with him since he left England's house, knows better than to simply leave him be. Every tap means something. Every sigh means something. It takes knowing the right taps, the right sighs, to satisfy Yao Wang. At the right taps, he'd brought him dim sum and a glass of wine. At the right sighs, he'd brought him a foot rest and a blanket. Now, all that could satisfy China would be Russia.
Russia was up late, prowling around to remind his pack to be ready, and to whom they really belong. Now that he's finished marking their dens, he has come to reclaim his mate. He pauses by the gate to piss on the post; it's been too long, and the place is starting to smell of other things. Most prevalent, of course, is that of his lover: sharp, floral, and with a tinge of iron-sweetness. He does not bother to knock or to ask where China is. He knows.
China hears him outside his window. Smells him: snow and earth. Urine. Vodka. He sits back in his chair and waits for him to come, to explain himself. Explain why he smells of Polish Poppies and Estonian brown bread. Dragging his tongue over his lower lip, tasting his last taste of wine, Yao taps at the arm rest three times, and watches Hong Kong move to the door.
Kaoru pulls the door open, kind of glaring at Mr. ScaryScarf. "What?"
Russia snarls and pushes past him. His mate is seated, looking at him with a hint of a frown around those bright lips. He smiles and goes on one knee to kiss his hand. He can smell a drop of wine between his fingers and laps at it. "Mine."
China allows him a moment of hope, of grace. One second of belief that he is not in very, very serious trouble. Then he yanks his hand away and slaps Russia's cheek, watching his face turn at a nearly unnatural angle with the force. That felt far too good. He continues to watch his face impassively as it turns back to him.
Russia growls low in his throat. In a few more nights, he might've taken a hand for that - even China's. But for now he still has the presence of mind to only glare and show his teeth. "That was not very nice, or very wise."
China's blood boils. He does not move, only stares at his lover with ink-black eyes, all ice. "I am not feeling very nice. And obviously I still want you, so I am not wise."
"You are hungry, then?" Russia asks, a bit more gently. China is never nice when he is too hungry. Perhaps he kept him waiting too long.
"Two hours, Ivan!" China gets up, gliding past him and toward the window where he can peer out at the moon. "Of course I'm hungry. And tired. And very annoyed with the fact that you smell like you've rolled in Polish Poppies."
Russia smirks. "I did. And then I pissed on them." China does not look like he finds that so amusing, so he tempers his expression. "Come, my little bat. I do not mean to make you angry. I had territories to reclaim. I must remind them who is alpha, da?"
China glares at his reflection quite fixedly, crossing his arms over his chest. Then he relents, going honey around the edges as he turns. He knows he should not fight with Russia so close to the moon. It was silly to be upset, but he does not like that his lover feels such a need to claim that stupid Lithuania. "I do not see why they must be reminded, aru." He moves toward him, his voice like silk. "It is no contest."
This tone is much better. Still very dangerous, but that's the way Russia prefers it. "Ever since they became independent, they get silly ideas. You understand, I am sure." He glances sidelong at Hong Kong. "Lithuania especially, now that he has a mate of his own."
China sends Hong Kong a steely glare, and the boy immediately grabs his jacket. He will be of no use tonight. Once he is gone China allows himself to move closer, arms slowly wrapping around Russia's neck. "I do not think you need Lithuania." He glares a little, pouting. "And is not fair."
Russia sighs. "He is pack, Yao. I will never let him go; is too dangerous for them on their own - and for everyone else. We must take care of our families, da?" He presses a kiss to the top of China's head. "You, you are strong. You are mine, and I am yours. Is different."
China nods, feeling quite satisfied with the way Ivan says 'yours'. His hands slide lower and he pulls Russia a little closer by the waist. "I hope so, aru. I am not wanting to make a meal out of your puppy. He would taste disgusting." Leaning up, he presses a shallow kiss to his lips, forcing Russia to deepen it himself, take what he needs.
Russia has learned to be careful when kissing China - at least, a hungry China. He doesn't like to cut his tongue, because that makes it hard to eat. But for the moment, the fangs are away and he can happily ravish that sweet mouth. He tries very hard to keep it delicate, because when he does not it gets sloppy. China does not like 'dog kisses'.
China groans softly, the taste of Russia setting his fangs on edge. He enjoys his tongue far more than he would ever admit, but right now, just tasting this man is making him remember how hungry he is. He drags Russia over to the chair and pushes him down, sliding into his lap and slowly unwinding his scarf. "Thank you, baby," he says in advance, licking over the spot he intends to bite - one of their favorites.
Russia is already groaning as he tilts his head to the side, giving China the space to play. China is the only one who is allowed to remove his scarf, and this is the reason why. "My pleasure."
China licks over the skin one more time before his teeth emerge and he sinks them into the already-scarred flesh. Blood, life, pours into his mouth and he swallows it all, loving that it's Ivan's. Beneath him, the man groans with the forbidden pleasure of it, every suck sending wave after wave through him. This is perfection.
There's an instant of pain so sharp it has Russia gripping China's arms, followed rapidly by pleasure that has him holding tighter. He practically squirms beneath him. China groans, taking what he needs until he is entirely sated.
Russia sinks back, dizzy and panting, while China licks the wound until all that remains are a tiny pair of scars. "That is why I go to my pack first."
China grins, licking his lips and taking a long lick up to Russia's ear. He nips the shell, teasing. "Don't take so long next time." He ruts down against him, his cock dragging up against Russia's. It feels delicious; makes him want to take advantage of his beautiful wolf in this vulnerable state. "Will you let me taste the rest of you this time?"
"As you wish." Russia reaches out, his hand dragging lazily through China's hair. There's a little trail of blood on the vampire's chin. He smirks and drags his first finger through it, holding it up for him to see. "You are getting messy."
China laughs, leaning in to lick over his lower lip. "I am allowed to be messy if you are allowed to piss on my porch."
Russia nips at him. "Is my part of the curse. Your porch did not smell right."
"Perhaps it is because I had Kiku over for tea this afternoon," China says in a voice that is all innocence, even though he knows exactly how Russia feels about that particular relationship.
A low growl confirms the violent jealousy that slithers through Russia's system. The reaction would be even more obvious if he hadn't just lost a good 2 quarts of blood. On the other hand, the logical part of his mind is reminding him that if he has his pack, China is allowed to have his own and see them as he wishes. Not that he must like it.
Satisfied, China slithers down Russia' body, intent on sucking the other life-force out of his body. All of it.