This was all written in one night... four days ago... I've been running around non stop since then, busy as hell -sigh- I finally got two betas! yay! ^^
Fun fact. Mind the Gap originated when I had a dream that Russia was my art teacher and he threatened us with his faucet pipe if we didn't draw our sunflowers properly. He also taught druk. Once he pulled me out of class and said, "there is something I should have told you a long time ago... I AM YOUR REAL FATHER." and I was like "WHAT THE FRIDGE" and thenI woke up. This is a normal dream for me... -sigh-
Gilbert woke up lying on what seemed to be an old red sofa. He began to sit up but stopped immediately, letting out a gasp as his backside throbbed horribly in protest. Every inch of him ached and he felt like he had been through a blender and beat up with a rolling pin. All of a sudden he felt sorry for homemade pasta. He supposed this was what that felt like…
"Lie back down." Snapped an angry sounding voice from the other side of the room. Gilbert looked around and saw Ivan sitting at a desk, concentrating entirely on the papers that sat in front of him. Memories from the night before came rushing back to him and he shuddered, squeezing his eyes closed and lying back down. He had been raped. Raped brutally and painfully by the love of his life and dumped straight after.
Wait, where was he? He vaguely realised that he was clean of blood and cum, his clothes spotless, if slightly damp. That's odd… Ivan must have cleaned him up and moved him to… "Where am I?" he croaked, wincing. Every syllable made his throat burn.
"You are at my house. If I had left you there you would have been discovered and that would not be good for my reputation, so I brought you back here." Gilbert stared at the older. This guy… he was so mysterious. He had so many sides it was hard to see which one was real and which was an act. Was it the one that he first met; cute, slightly shy and head-in-the-clouds? Was it the one he had met last night; violent, sadistic and cruel? Or was it this one? The one that carried him home and cleaned him for his so-called reputation? Was he refusing to look up at Gilbert out of disgust or guilt? It was so hard… some people are just so complicated.
"If you open your eyes and look you will see that there is a bowl of soup next to you." Gilbert looked. So there was… "Thank you…" he managed to grind out and took the soup. It was stone cold but smelled okay. He tried it. It tasted… foreign. Kind of like some type of vegetable he couldn't place and vodka. All together, it was delicious. He easily drank the whole bowl and licked it clean.
"Gilbert," said Ivan, finally looking up at him, "Just to make sure, I hope you realise that I still hate you and think you are a pathetic little whore and the only reason I am doing this is to protect my employment and if you breathe a word to anyone I will do a lot more than rape you, you got that slut?" Gilbert visibly cringed at the harsh words and nodded. He couldn't lose faith however. Even after all that had happened Ivan was the closest thing to love he had and he would, even if it killed him, find his true self.
The car ride to school was awkward. Horribly awkward. Neither of them said a word to each other and as soon as they arrived Ivan snapped at Gilbert to bolt, saying that they couldn't be caught sharing a ride. And that he did. He ran and ran all the way to his roll call class, even if he was early. His teacher nearly had a heart attack, giant caterpillar eyebrows nearly jumping off his face when he saw Gilbert sitting patiently at his desk half an hour early instead of bounding in half way through like he usually did.
When the class filed in he stared pointedly at the wall, shuffling over to the edge of his seat as Alfred sat next to him. "Hey…" the blonde whispered as Mr Kirkland began calling their names, "Gil… Gillyweed?"
"Shut up fag face." Hissed Gilbert. The amount of times he had told the idiot not to call him that… "Sorry." Alfred murmured, "But seriously, what was that yesterday man? It was so unawesome! But… still… I forgive you." What did he just say? "I don't know why," continued Alfred, "But I still forgive you anyway. Cause I know that I'm always saying I'm more awesome than you – which I am because, dude, that's life – but you're pretty awesome. Nearly as awesome as me. Which is pretty awesome." The blonde grinned as he repeated the words that Gilbert had introduced himself with. "But seriously man, I always had a hunch that you didn't really like me that much, but why? Have I done something to upset you? Cause if I have then God I am so fucking sor-"
"It's not you." Gilbert interrupted. "You haven't done anything. It's just me."
"But why-"
"I'm sorry okay? I should have never hung out with you in the first place. If you want honesty, then here it is. I hate you. I hate you with a passion. You have everything I want; looks, popularity, humour, happiness, a brother who pays attention to you… love…" He stopped as he felt his throat about to give out on him, partly because his voice was still dead and partly because he could feel the beginnings of the very tears he had been holding back ever since that fateful morning so long ago beginning to rise to the surface. "Just… don't talk to me. Ever."
And with that the two became silent until the bell rang, when they left the classroom and went their separate ways without so much as glancing at each other.
Ivan was painting, just like he usually did at the end of school. The day had been hard; he wondered if his students even noticed that he disappeared half way during class into the cupboard in the back of the room, locking himself in and drinking 27 bottles of his strongest vodka. Why? To see how much he could drink before he got alcohol poisoning and died. Why would he want to die? To see if he would be missed. It was something he had wondered since he was very young; if he vanished off the face of the earth, would anyone even notice he was gone? Perhaps they just wouldn't care? After all, it wasn't like he'd made much of a mark in the world. He had tried that with Gilbert, but he knew that the little German only did it because he was lonely; he knew his brother Ludwig. The bastard didn't even notice he was gone.
This painting was different from the others; sure, it was a sunflower, but it was small and insignificant, its petals beginning to wilt, the space around it dark and empty. The rest of the canvas was taken up by bright, happy sunflowers, standing tall. They didn't know what real loneliness was. The sunflower in the middle, dark and sad, always stood out. They could see it clearly, but they were scared that if they got too close they would be sucked into to the black hole surrounding it. All it could do was stand and weep, hoping desperately that it would be saved. This sunflower was him and Gilbert. He was wrong to think that dragging another of his kind into his life would save them; they needed someone bright, bright enough to eliminate the darkness around them.
But obviously no one like that existed. He had ruined Gilbert because they were the same; because he knew that if Gilbert had stayed with him the two of them would become darker and darker until they didn't exist anymore; just another shadow in the corner of the room. He was already well on his way to that state, but Gilbert still had time to save himself. He merely did the most painful thing he could inflict on the younger; throwing his so-called "love" back in his face in the most violent and scarring way possible. Hopefully that was a loud enough wake-up call for him.
He sighed and stared at the painting. He hated it. Hated everything about it. He grabbed the faucet pipe leaning against the wall and swung it back, getting ready to use it to beat the painting into shreds before he heard a voice behind him. "What are you doing Ivan?"
He turned, holding the pipe like a weapon, his eyes dark and penetrating, one swing away from killing whoever had interrupted him at that moment but stopping dead in his tracks at Matthew's terrified face. "I-Ivan…?" But then the pipe clattered across the floor and Matthew was lifted up and kissed. He winced as their teeth clashed together but closed his eyes, kissing his teacher back with full force. He was carried and seated on a desk, their mouths never breaking contact. Ivan cupped his manhood and squeezed, eliciting a moan out of the blonde.
Matthew wrapped his legs and arms around Ivan, bringing him closer. The older immediately undid his pants and pulled them off, bringing Matthew to full hardness with gentle teasing. "Ahh… m-more…" Matthew moaned into the kiss. Ivan paused. Perhaps it was time… it had been about a week since they had started this. And God he knew he needed it. Needed to go all the way, that is. Only this time he wanted to hear erotic moans and groans and all sorts of ear candy from the other. Not like last night.
He quickly slipped a bottle of lube from his pocket and popped the lid, one hand still working the younger's member so he wouldn't notice. After slicking up a finger he gently prodded Matthew's hole, causing him to let out a surprised squeak and open his eyes wide in surprise. He tried to break the kiss but Ivan used the hand that was previously stroking his member to hold his head still as he gently slid one finger into him, moving it in and out a couple times until Matthew stopped struggling and closed his eyes again.
He parted their lips. "Is this okay?" he asked, looking deep into Matthew's eyes. The younger nodded slightly. "B-Be gentle…" he murmured. The Russian nodded in response and continued to kiss him, once again moving his hand back to his member as he introduced a second finger to the tight hole. Matthew whimpered into the kiss and he felt the muscle squeezing his fingers tightly, trying and failing to push them out. He continued thrusting his fingers in and out until he was sure the blonde had become adjusted to them before slowly pushing in a third. This time Matthew broke the kiss, burying his head into Ivan's neck and whimpering again.
The older took advantage of the situation and began to kiss and suck at his neck and ears, twisting his fingers around inside of him searching for that spot. All of a sudden Matthew jerked, throwing his head back and moaning as he felt fingers hitting something magical inside him. "O-Oh God, I-Ivan… I'm r-ready- ahh!" Ivan smirked as he hit the spot a few more times before removing them and squirting more lube onto his palm, rubbing it onto his cock.
The blonde looked down at the Russian's member. "I-Is it going to fit?" He said. The older shrugged. "Ready?"
"Oh God yes…" their lips were reunited as Ivan began to push in his member. It was the most amazing and most painful feeling Matthew ever had. He froze and tried to relax as the massive cock entered him. The head was barely in when the door swung open and the pair heard a voice behind them gasp. "What the FUCK?" Alfred exclaimed.
That was it. The end of Matthew's life as he knew it. His eyes flew open and he immediately wriggled Ivan's manhood out of him, staring at Alfred like the Devil had walked in and started eating everyone. "N-No, A-Al, it isn't w-what it l-looks like-"
"You monster!" Matthew realised that his brother's furious gaze was not directed at him, but at Ivan. "You fucking rapist! I'm going to fuck you up so badly for fucking my brother like that!"
"N-No, Alfred, you don't understand! Ivan's not a rapist! H-He's… I… I love him!" Matthew's heart pounded harder than they ever had in his life at those words. He stared at the ground as he pulled his pants on, not wanting to look at either of them.
"Matthew… Matthew you… He… Motherfucker." He spat at Ivan, "He tricked you Matthew. I see who you really are, sir. You just want a quick fuck, well you chose the wrong fucking guy. Matthew, he tricked you. He doesn't give a shit about you."
"T-That's not true! Ivan, it's not! Tell him!" Matthew, now fully clothed, looked at his teacher, also fully clothed, for support. There was a dead silence. "I-Ivan..?" The Russian merely stood, staring at Alfred with an emotion impossible to name. After a moment he shook his head slowly, and Matthew felt an unbearable pain in his chest. "No…" He began to back away slowly, shaking his head, tears welling up and beginning to fall. "No!" With that he bolted out of the room, pulling away from Alfred reaching out to him.
There was another silence in which the two never moved their gazes. Alfred's was full of pure hatred while Ivan still had that strange emotion, like a mix between fear, sadness, annoyance, longing and disappointment. "What did you think you were playing at?" Alfred finally said, his voice now beginning to tremble with tears threatening to fall, "Mattie isn't an object. He has feelings you know. I knew something was up… well, good luck keeping your job after this gets out." With that he began to turn around, but was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder pushing him hard into the door, knocking the wind out of him.
"What the?" Ivan's heavy body was pressed against his, the door being pushed shut. "I will be keeping my job, Alfred. You know why? Because you are not telling anyone. Not even your brother. Understand?" Alfred shook his head. "There is no fucking way you're getting away with this commie- ahh!" He gasped as Ivan's hand squeezed him through his pants, applying pressure in all the right places. God, this guy was amazing… he shook the thought out of his head the moment it arrived, instantly getting angry with himself, though not as angry at his body for reacting the way it did.
"I will have you eventually… Matevy was just there to pass the time. It is you I really want, moy podsolnechnik." The hand continued to massage Alfred and he cursed inwardly at himself for getting so turned on by the older speaking his native tongue. God why the hell did Russian have to be such a sexy language? "I… I hate you- ahh!"
Ivan snickered. "Really? Your body tells me differently." With that he latched himself onto the American's neck, moving his hands up underneath his shirt to toy with his nipples while raising his knee to rub against his manhood at an achingly slow pace. It was then that Alfred figured out that no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't make him stop. The Russian was too big, too strong and too… sexy.
With that he stopped resisting and began to grind his hips into the knee, arching into his touch while biting his tongue hard so he wouldn't moan. The temperature seemed to be rising by the second, he could feel the blood pulsing to his lower regions and wrapped his arms around Ivan to give him more access, unable to bite back a loud moan as he felt a hand join the Russian's thigh and continue to massage him firmly. He felt his balls strain and let out a cry as he came inside his pants, arching once more into that hand.
Ivan held the boy upright as he caught his breath before he struggled out of his grip and ran out, slamming the door behind him, and Ivan was once again reminded that, God, he wanted that idiot and wanted him badly. He was perfect in every way. He smiled lustfully in memory of what had happened. Yeah, Alfred couldn't stay away after that. If there was one thing Ivan knew, it was that when it came to sex, no one was better than him. No one.