I know what you're thinking. Late, again, I know. I think I will be updating very slowly, as I am extremely busy. Seriously... *sigh* I write almost all of this stuff in class and, well, writing lemon is kinda hard because, well, for one thing there is absolutely no privacy at my school . so yeah. Holidays now! woot! (no, sorry, this does not mean faster updates. I am still horendously busy; I have not one free day -_-)
I have no idea where this chapter came from. Seriously. This is probably as dark as it's going to get, trust me. I apologise, Prussia fans! He will get his happy ending, I promise! None of this was even planned... it was going to be a sort of crack romance type fanfic, but... wow, I look back upon my original idea for this and it's barely recognisable XD
Oh, and I know, Ludwig is younger than Gilbert, but in Mind the Gap he's not, so deal ^-^
Warning: Rape, Violence, dark themes, me feeling a bit too sadistic during English class.
Matthew blinked. "S-sixty nine?" he said slowly. "Da! Sixty nine." Ivan sat up, pulling the younger into his lap, kissing him softly before lying down and flipping Matthew around so that he was once again faced with Ivan's cock. His eyes widened as he began to get the gist of exactly what sixty nine was. "U-um," he began, knowing that he would definitely finish before his teacher which was something he did not want.
His protests were stopped dead by a sudden burst of pleasure racing up from his groin. A loud moan escaped his throat and he felt Ivan gasp slightly around his manhood. He realised he was panting teasingly over the older's length and quickly took it back into his mouth, sucking and teasing until the two of them were reduced to a blushing hot mess of pleasure. He felt heat boil up in his stomach until it was too hot and he felt like he was about to explode from a desperate need for release.
With a final cry of total ecstasy he released into the Russian's mouth, choking as unexpectedly hot fluid hit the back of his throat with no warning, dripping onto his chin and leaking out of his nose. He collapsed onto his teacher's thighs, subconsciously wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling into his knees.
Ivan shared a look with the sunflower next to him. Yeah, his first impression was right. This kid was the cuddling type. They were the worst; he was more of a shag-and-run type guy. "Matthew…" he murmured, allowing his breath to tickle the sensitive spot just under his knees. The blonde shuddered and he quickly jumped off, realising what he'd been doing. "I-I'm sorry, I m-must be h-heavy a-and surely you have w-work to do a-and I-I should g-go, see you…" and with that he pulled on his pants and ran out, buttoning up his shirt as he went.
Ivan smiled slowly. If he was lucky, Matthew's vulgar talent ran through his sunflower's blood too. Mmm, blood… he felt said fluid gathering once again down south and took out from his scarf a secret photograph he had taken earlier that day of Alfred giving a frankfurt a blow job. At least, it looked like it. That kid had a rather erotic way of eating, pink tongue lapping gently at the tip, eyes half closed. Ivan closed his eyes and lowered his hand to wrap around his half hard member, closing his eyes to imagine his hand as that of his little eighteen-year-old, his thumb massaging the tip as the very tongue that was molesting the frankfurt. He felt a surge of jealousy towards the sausage. Sure, he had Matthew, but it just wasn't the same…
Hi, it's Enya :D (my friend stole the pen from me during English)
Alfred stood at their meeting place, bouncing impatiently on his heels. He was well known for many things; eating, talking, optimism… but patience was most definitely not one of them. He glanced down at his watch. He had been waiting for his brother for a good fifteen minutes. Did Mr Braginski get him? He whacked his head against the wall at the thought. Now he was just being paranoid. "Get out of my head bloody pedophile."
"Talking to yourself?" Alfred looked up to see Matthew walking towards him, head cocked slightly and a cheeky smile on his face. There was something different about his brother. He seemed more… proud. Confident even. "What happened to you?" he asked, looking Matthew up and down for evidence of paedophilic art teachers. His brother shrugged, his smile broadening and his eyes fixing on a spot on the wall behind him, zoning out. Alfred narrowed his eyes. Yep, something had definitely happened to his brother.
The next day pretty much the same thing happened. And the next. And the next. It wasn't long before it became a regular thing; Matthew would run up to the art room the minute the bell rang, Alfred would wait at the gate and spend the whole time plotting up ways to bring the subject up with his brother but as soon as he saw Matthew's grinning face the thought was eliminated from his mind.
After about a week, the same things happened as usual, but this time as the two met up after school Gilbert was watching from a distance, plotting. He hated them. Hated them with every cell of his body; Ivan was his dammit! He was there first! He watched their retreating backs, trying to make them spontaneously combust.
It didn't work.
Matthew was laughing. His face was flushed prettily and his stride was a hell of a lot more confident than when he had first arrived there. He looked like just because he was screwing the hottest guy in the world he owned the place. He probably didn't even care for Ivan; he hated those types who just had sex for the pleasure and didn't care who it was with as long as they were good looking. How dare he hurt his Vanya!
Gilbert cared. He loved him; his soft, ashy hair, that absorbed, loving expression he painted with, his childish, playful voice and his face when he orgasmed. No matter how much pain Gilbert was in it was always worth it to see that normally white face slightly coloured, eyes reduced to slits, mouth parted and head bent over in an attempt to hide his one moment of vulnerability with his hair. Of course, what he loved most about his teacher was his eyes. Deep, violet eyes, icy on the surface but underneath… well, he was sure there was something stunning beautiful underneath. He still had yet to take those barriers down around Gilbert, and he was certain they were nearly at that level before those two twins blundered in and ruined everything. Yeah, him and Ivan once had something special, even if the older wouldn't admit it, and there was no way anyone had to right to get between them.
And that was when he did what was possibly one of the stupidest things he'd ever done. He ran as fast as he could after the two brothers who had stolen Ivan from him and grabbed Matthew's shoulder, swinging him around to face him. "Bastard." He spat into his face before punching him harder than he had punched anyone before right in the nose, which was saying something, as Gilbert didn't exactly have a clean record.
Matthew stumbled back, hand cupped under his dripping nose and eyes wide with shock. "WHAT THE FUCK?" Alfred grabbed his brother and pushed him behind him. "What the shit to you think you're playing at Gil? I thought we were mates! No one punches my brother and gets away with it dick face." And with that he swung a punch right back at Gilbert, who caught it easily and kneed him in the stomach, pounding his fist down on his back, resulting in Alfred being sprawled on the ground. After giving him a few last kicks he turned to face Matthew, who stood staring back at him like a deer caught in the headlights, tears beginning to well and nose streaming with blood. It was an image that he would never forget.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to finish off what he had started. Words caught in his throat and as their unmoving gazes locked he took a step backwards – into something tall, hard and seeping with a familiar terrifying aura. He began to turn around before he was scooped up by his former lover's muscled arms and carried back into the art room.
All of a sudden he was slammed hard into a desk and his head was held still as Ivan took off his pants. "Suck." Was all he said. Gilbert gladly obliged. He was stupid to think the Russian was angry, obviously his demonstration proved that not only was he stronger than those two put together but he really loved the older. This was his way of saying sorry; he had never been very good at emotional stuff like that. Gilbert would forgive him of course, but not without a price, for he had always longed to top, just once… his nether regions twitched at the thought of it.
All of a sudden he was yanked off painfully by the hair and laid flat on his back on the desk, his pants literally ripped off him. He stared at the torn clothes in dismay. What- but then there was only one thing he could think about. Pain. He felt his backside being torn apart and screamed. Sex without lube was one thing, but without preparation either?
Gilbert felt ready to die. It felt like his hole was on fire and all he could do was cling on to Ivan's thick coat and try to lose himself in the musky, alcoholic smell of him. He could feel tears gather at his eyes and begin to spill down his cheeks. "W-Why?" he sobbed. Suddenly he felt small and insecure, his eyes shut tight to block out the world around him. He felt like a tiny, insignificant doll that existed only for the Russian's enjoyment.
He often felt like this around Ivan; like all he got for himself was his warmth, and even that lasted barely a moment before he was shoved back into the cupboard to wait until he was needed again. And now those treasured minutes of his life were being snatched away by a pair of sluts, and the worst thing was that he couldn't do anything about it. He belonged to Ivan mind, body and soul. Without him he was nothing but a used up old toy rusting in a corner, a permanent smile painted on his face which in turn was slowly rotting away as he waited for someone to find him who needed him.
His parents were long since dead; murdered by some psychopath who not only left their corpses lying around in the house but hung himself in their own living room, leaving him and his older brother Ludwig a nice surprise when they woke up the next morning. After it happened the two moved into an apartment nearby, Ludwig – aged 19 – managing to get a job as a sort of game keeper for the school, becoming a PE teacher four years later, by which time Gilbert was in year twelve and the two of them had grown… distant.
Ludwig had always insisted on forgetting completely about their parents and moving on, becoming stern and icy towards his brother who wanted nothing more than to visit their parents' grave regularly and act like normal siblings rather than the horrible student-teacher relationship that had been created. No, they hardly spoke anymore, and as much as Gilbert acted up or whatever he did, Ludwig never wanted to warm up to him and when he tried to form a sort of friendship with someone, his nervousness always passed him off as being obnoxious and they never liked him. Well, apart from maybe Alfred and Matthew, but he hated them from the beginning and they probably felt the same now.
And then he met Ivan. That hot Russian had gone after him the second he was put into his class, and Gilbert was all too happy to oblige, giving himself up to obtain every tiny bit of love he could get, even if it meant becoming the lifeless object that he was. And now he was in that very art room where they had met being what he was pretty sure was defined as raped.
"Did you honestly believe that shedding my podsolnechnik's blood would make me want you again?" Ivan hissed between moans, "Ivan hissed between moans, "You selfish little slut. I am bored with you now; you can go back to whatever scraps of what you call a life that you have and I expect you never to set foot in this room again. You are worth nothing you little whore." He smirked as he hit Gilbert's prostate, making the younger moan loudly, and reached a hand down to wrap around his semi erect cock, bringing it to hardness with a few strokes. "You are loving every second of this aren't you?"
"N… No… Argh, Ivan, i-it hu… hurts!" Gilbert didn't have the strength to hold back now. He cried and moaned into Ivan, feeling dirty and frustratingly weak from being assaulted like this and loathed his body more than ever for reacting like that. The nightmare continued for what seemed to him like an eon, every second of which half of him screamed for Ivan to stop, the other half thinking he deserved every second. When it finally ended, the Russian did possibly the most terrible thing he could have possibly done. He kissed Gilbert gently and lovingly, whispering, "I love you Gilbert," before escaping the art room, leaving the teen sprawled on the table, covered in tears, sweat, blood and cum, whispering and sobbing in German with what was left of his life in ruins.