Yay! I like this chapter, by the way, the reason I write and post so fast is so I can get a good foundation down. Wouldn't want to forget any of the good stuff eh? Not to mention that I have a problem where if I stop writing for even a second I end up moving on to another story… so anyways, Enjoy!
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Matthew's head twinged painfully as he emerged from a coma like state, trying to roll over. His stomach lurched as he fell, and his back screamed out protests as he hit the floor with a loud thud, moaning and gasping for breath.
"Gah, damn it all…" he wheezed, as his lungs relearned the chemistry of taking in and expelling air. He took in his surroundings, why had he been sleeping on the couch? The empty vodka bottle caught his gaze and he groaned as the hangover wrapped its clutches around his skull.
"Gah! Damn it all!" he repeated a bit louder. "Mon deiu, I swear, I am never drinking again…" he couldn't believe he had drank at all, it was the worst thing he could have done to his body while it was recovering from several deaths in a row.
Matthew crawled to his feet messaged his lower spine gingerly, and stumbled off in search of the kitchen, or the bathroom, anywhere he could get some water.
Ivan didn't seem as bad as all the other nations thought, a little creepy, and very hard to read, but so far he had not been violent, and had not tried to force him into… anything. He seemed a courteous host, a bit reclusive sure, but still, a courteous- nay perhaps even a kind host. For the way Ivan kept to himself mostly was a bit of a comfort considering the things Matthew had been told about him, and no doubt Ivan knew what had been told-.
Matthew found a bathroom, and his thoughts were stunned into silence.
"Mon dieu…" he muttered to himself. Gazing wide-eyed around the room, for indeed it was a room. Not a huge one, but a sizable space none the less. Black marble, silver fixtures, and—shockingly—candles, in other words, the very image of luxury.
The tempting sight of a huge, whirlpool tub, sunk into a low platform, was enough to make Matthew aware of the itchy sensation of salty grime clinging to his skin. Aware of the fact that he hadn't bathed in over three days, those three days full of more activity than he usually got in a month. Geez, he must have stunk, maybe that was why Russia had left so sharply the evening before…
The though of water, and the aching in his head suddenly seemed trivial in the overwhelming urge to become clean. Yet the tub seemed to clean… a frosted glass sliding door in the wall caught his attention, and he pulled it open, was it? His hand searched for a light switch on the wall, and finding one, flicked it on, illuminating the small tiled space from within. Yes! A shower!
He completely forgot about closing the door to the bathroom as he turned the water on, giving the pipes a few moments too clear of cold water as he stripped, and stepped into the steaming torrent.
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Ivan didn't hear the sound of the shower, he was used to not having others around. It had been many years since Ukraine and the Baltics had lived with him, and none of them ever came to visit, they hated him, as they had the right to.
He slid through the door of the bathroom, taking several steps before noticing the steam in the air and the pile of clothes carelessly piled on the floor. His eyes traveled upwards, scanning the silhouette moving on the other side of the glass.
Ivan couldn't help but freeze up, involuntarily taking in the gentle curve of the back. The way slender wrists shifted as long fingers move to comb hair back from the face, the long legs moving, shifting… a storm of thoughts burned fiercely through his mind, reminding him of other times, when he had caught Lithuania, or Latvia in that shower, what he had done to them… the things he could do…
With that though he bolted from the room, as he had the night before, fleeing from the temptation. He closed the door silently behind him in self-defense against the sound of water rushing over skin.
And rushed a ways down the hall until he couldn't hear it anymore. He leaned heavily against the wall, sliding down and resting his head exhaustedly on his knees.
He couldn't do it, he had to keep the other side at bay, he had promised Ukraine that he would on the day she left. But it had been so long… and it was so hard when confronted by an image like…
Ivan moaned quietly, forcing the fresh memory from his mind. Digging his long fingers into his silver hair, pulling savagely hoping the pain would distract his mind. Finally resorting to ferociously attacking the flesh of his own wrist with his teeth, leaving bloody wounds where his teeth pierced through.
No, he would not think of that, he rebutted himself. He would not loose control, and he would not break his promise.
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Matthew emerged in a cloud of steam, sighing in appreciation. The aching, the painfully tense muscles, and his hangover were gone, but best of all, he felt clean.
He slid the borrowed clothes back on, not bothering to dry his hair, gulped a little water from the tap and returned to the hallway.
Freezing with his hand on the doorframe as a sound registered on him. Was that someone crying? Matthew turned around and stepped tentatively towards it, into unknown territory.
It was dim, but slowly a form emerged from the darkness. The smell of blood snaked its way through his senses.
Matthew approached slowly, quietly— the smell made him anxious—and he stopped a few feet off, recognizing the silver hair. It was Ivan.
"I-Ivan? Are you alright?" his voice was worried, but gentle, and it made Ivan flinch away from him. He kolled quietly under his breath, giving an aura of danger, wanting Matthew to go, run away, and leave him alone.
In stead Matthew took another step forward, "Ivan?" the Russian cursed him, why wouldn't he leave? Couldn't he feel the danger? He intensified his aura, kolling rising in volume.
Yet another step, why was he ignoring the warnings? And then, suddenly, a gentle hand was on Ivan's shoulder, and before either of them knew what had happened, Matthew was pinned against the wall. Matthew's breath hitched as Ivan's fingers slowly tightened around his throat, constricting.
"I-Ivan p-please let go." He choked out, coughing as the grip intensified.
Ivan didn't pay attention, it had been to long since he had released his other half, the relief was great, just from the simple tightening of his grip. It felt so~ good. He smiled slowly, a look of pure blind cruelty, and Matthew's heart skipped a beat in fear. Matthew's final, breathless attempt broke through, and his cold smile faltered a bit.
It wasn't the meaning that got through to him; it was the way the words were breathe, even as Matthew's lungs were viciously deprived of oxygen. Even as his eye fluttered closed and his eyelashes brushed his flushed cheeks.
"…Sil te plait… n'avez pas…." (Please…don't…) memories of that same voice singing sliced through his insanity like a diamond edged knife. His snake-like grip released abruptly—sending Matthew sliding to the floor bonelessly. Ivan's smile went extinct as he stared silently Matthew's slumped and motionless form.
The realization came like a flash of lightening.
He had done this, and now he was to pay the price… Matthew would hate him now. Just look at what he had done; the prints of each of his fingers showed in clearly, standing in stark pale relief against his already snowy pale skin.
For a long moment Ivan simply stood there, backed against the wall, as breath returned to the body across from him. Finally he couldn't bring himself to stay any longer—now sure that Matthew was still alive—and fled up the stairs, leaving the unconscious blond to tremble, curled in a ball against the wall.
He fled to save himself from the anger and fear he knew would come, and to save Matthew from himself. From who he would become in the face of his betrayal. He had broken his promise.
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Oh no, now look what happened, this wasn't part of the plan… O~O ( weird face) so sad… Anyways, I thought it was about time for a sprinkle of sexual tension, plus… I wanted a weird, awkward shower scene [B} ( other weird face…)
Anyways hope you liked it! Sorry for the disappointment of not turning it into a STEAMY shower scene ;)
Translation notes:
"Mon dieu"—my god (yet again…)
"…S'il te plait... Arrête… "—Please…stop…
Please review if you have time!
-Sai