Hello!
So here I present to you two chapters. This is the Rochu one, the next one isn't. I try to give you guys updates on Ivan and Yao every time, just to be fair. :)
Thank you for all the support so far. I have revised the rant from last chapter. I tweaked it just a little, to make my important arguments more discernible. If you have the time, please re-read. It still sounds like I had written it at 4 a.m. in the morning after a few beers, but at least I think the points that I originally wanted to get across have been clarified. Please take a few minutes to read, especially if you have begun to hate me. Please address all other flames and insults after the fact. Otherwise, they will be ignored. Thank you for your cooperation.
I love the reviews that you guys have sent me, and I will take all of them into account, and I hope I won't disappoint too much. :)
Below is my response for Lego's review. I don't know how else to contact her. I just hope she reads this soon. xD
Thank you for having taken your time to review my story for the past couple of chapters. I really appreciate it. Nononono, don't feel guilty. I think the fault is kind of mine too, for having just thrown Yao's OOC at everyone's face without an explanation.
Oh, really? I never knew England was supposed to be an effeminate character... Guess I needed to have paid attention to the series a bit more. o.o
Don't worry about that! I hate writing lemons, and intimate scenes in general. Though I will make it my new years resolution to write a lemon before December, it would not be incorporated into this story. I had rated it T, and I will honour it. Thanks for your concern. Also, keep in mind. He is male, rich, and very powerful. He gets to do whatever he wants, in secret... ;)
I give y'all a fair warning about my portrayal of Yao in this chapter, and in the next update as well. Please take with a pinch of salt. Then, I think I will give it a rest, as Yao grows out of that phase for a while.
Yao took the welfare of his country to be of utmost importance; he would live and die for her. But, beyond that, he had learned to never question himself nor his nature. He was born in this humanoid body, and there was no logical reason why its desires should be neglected, its thirst left unquenched. After all, Yao never understood the masochism of restraining one's actions for the sole sake of keeping moral order. It wasn't as if it had been cast in stone by some God, and whoever refused abide wouldn't be eternally damned. Adherence to social customs was only to save face, to ensure his own survival in this imperial labyrinth.
Which meant, Yao's lovers were as disposable to him as a box of matches.
With that thought, he picked up the newly lit flame, and began to infect the row of candles which stood around the perimeter of his room. The daughters glared back at him like pairs of eyes, unblinkingly watching his every move.
He smirked. They could use an audience.
"Cut the nonsense, China. Come back to bed," Mongolia's voice rang from behind the canopy.
Yao's face fell. He was only vying for a little atmosphere. Was that such sacrilege?
He supposed that he might as well get this over with. The sooner he got his dose, the sooner he could move on to the other things he had planned to do today.
He whisked the curtains away and joined Mongolia, whose naked form was laying upon his bed, the sheets covering his lower half— where he rightfully belonged. China clutched his lover's chin, and collided their lips in a loud slap. He plunged his tongue into the other's mouth like a bullet, leeching out the bitter taste of saliva. His hands ran down the solid canvas of Mongolia's chest, feline nails digging into skin, not deep enough to draw blood, but sufficed to make him moan, or whimper.
Much to his dismay, Mongolia's performance today had been unusually stiff. China would flirt his lips and tease his thighs, trying to get him to loosen up. But, he would just lay there, still, like a stone bull.
Yao cursed inwardly. He hadn't the time nor patience to fix malfunctioning toys.
He dove down to capture his lips again, but this time, Mongolia's large, rough hand cupped China's cheek, stopping his advances. "Why such a rush, China?" He asked, caressing the skin with sandpaper fingertips, "Can't we just lay here and talk a little?"
His usual growling had tone softened, deepened, as if he was beckoning for China's heart to melt. However, it only served to sicken him.
China was not discouraged, and to prove it, he reached a hand downwards and gripped firmly. Mongolia scrunched his face and let out an arid gasp, as he worked his magic. China smirked. Through hooded eyes, he stared down at his pitiful, helpless form. He was almost beautiful.
Mongolia was frightened of him, for he knew that if China wanted his death, he would not hesitate, for the sake of his poisonously sweet touch. But for now, he knew he must stay true to his intentions of coming here in the first place. Which was why, he gave himself a few more minutes of pleasure before snatching away China's wrist for good.
Catching his breath, Mongolia dared to say, with as much conviction as he could muster, "Let's slow down a bit today. You're wearing yourself out, dear." He took China's hand and held it in his own, entwining their fingers together, as if they were in love.
Yao chuckled, he wasn't going to give up this easily. He was going to get it today, milk the last bit of juice out of him, whether he liked it or not.
Refusing to dismount him, he jerked his hand free, and bent down to give him a deep, wet kiss. "Don't lie to me, Mongolia," China hissed, grabbing a fistful of his hair and twisting it, "You want me."
He whimpered in pain. China scowled. Was he in bed with a woman?
Mongolia mouthed something through his haggard breaths, but seemed to be too much of a coward to enunciate it properly.
"What did you say?" China demanded, almost growling.
"I-I love you, China," he said, and took a gulp. "...Yao."
China froze upon hearing those words.
It was the first time he had called his name, for the hundred years they had been together.
He slid off from Mongolia's waist, and turned away from him. He closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths, not that helped much. Those three words had already been said, and China knew that their relationship was over.
It had been nice while it lasted. The sex was fine, he supposed.
Mongolia sat up and wrapped his arms around China's waist. "I love you," he repeated, a little more firmly this time, "Do you love me?"
Yao closed his eyes and allowed himself to melt into his embrace one last time. Warm, like candlelight. This one always gave the best hugs, and that would probably be what he'd miss most about him. Or, maybe how he smelled of hearth wood and spices, especially after a day of hunting.
Yao opened his mouth, and was about to utter his rejection. But, once again, he was interrupted by someone, probably Ivan, knocking on his bedroom door.
And, that was when Yao had decided that he was finally at his wit's end with the boy.
Shoving Mongolia off of him and draping a coat over his bare shoulders, Yao stalked to the door and swung it open.
"What do you want, Ivan?" Yao hollered, without thinking.
Somehow, Yao was scary enough at that moment to had made Ivan look as if he had come face-to-face with the monster living in his closet. Ivan shrieked, and drooped his head.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy." Yao commanded, tipping his chin up. "What do you want from me?"
Even Yao winced at how harsh he sounded, and it was too bad that said words could not be taken back.
"W-well, I-I just wanted to say come say hi..." Ivan mumbled, "'C-cause I'm leaving tomorrow... and..."
Ever since Ivan had met Yao, he couldn't wait to someday grow big and strong, so he could protect him. Though Ivan knew that real men didn't cry, he couldn't help it! He sniffed a couple of times, and inwardly cursed the tears that were beginning to cloud his vision.
Yao, his Yao, was mad at him...
Wiping a messy handful of mucous from his nose, he sniffed again.
Yao folded his arms and stood back, waiting for him to finish. As much as he wanted to stoop down to comfort him, he decided against it. He told himself that there were manners that Ivan needed to learn, the hard way. One did not simply invite himself into another's home, and demand entry into their bedroom! Had his father failed to teach him common sense?
"Yao," Ivan eventually stuttered, between hiccups, "May I please come in?"
Yao, still not impressed with Ivan's usage of the magic word, said flatly, "No, I'm busy."
"China, what's going on?" Mongolia's voice rang from inside the room. Ivan snatched a peek of him from behind Yao's legs. He wondered what a naked man was doing on Yao's bed.
"I'm taking care of it!" Yao snapped.
He looked back at Ivan, took a deep breath, and said, "Look, I can't play with you right now. Please leave, or," Yao paused, thinking of the lightest threat he could come up with, "I'll never talk to you again!"
Yao winced at his own words. That was a bit too much. He didn't mean to sound so harsh. It just slipped from his tongue...
Though Ivan was an annoying little thing, and often times, talking to him was like drinking cold tea in a blizzard, Yao had never knew that when the boy was angry, he looked like... that. Suddenly, it felt as if the temperature had plummeted, as a chill dashed through Yao's body, like someone had ran a slimy finger down his spine. He could swear that Ivan's bright violet eyes had swirled into a more darker, more sinister hue, like crystal balls telling a bad fortune.
How in the heavens could someone suddenly go from a crying, wheezing lump into looking like the son of Hell?
"...Ivan?"
Ivan opened his mouth to speak, as Yao braced himself for a hurricane.
Instead, the boy said, in a low, soft hush, "Yao doesn't have to talk to me if he doesn't want to. He doesn't have to play with me, or even look at me."
Each word was enunciated in a painfully slow manner. He didn't sound like he was going to tear roofs off buildings, nor that he was going to start sobbing like Yao had expected him to.
Yao just stood there, at a loss for words.
"And I think he looked better when his lips weren't painted." Ivan added.
With those last words, he turned and walked away, with a bit of a sad limp.
Yao's finger absently smeared a bit of his red lip stain.
He couldn't bring himself to call back; he didn't even know if he still had a voice left. He turned around to see that Mongolia had fully dressed and was ready to leave.
"Didn't you want to leave?" Yao shrieked, after a few minutes of them staring at each other in silence, "Then leave!"
He left.
Yao punched his mirror, shattering it. He collapsed on his bed with an ungraceful thud, and kicked his feet against the bunk of his bed. He screamed until his throat rawed, into the pillow which still smelt like his past lover. Was it even possible that anyone else could have a worse day?
Why was he so upset? He didn't know. He didn't have the mental capacity to assess that. Instead, he resorted to pleasing himself, since obviously, no one else was going to.
Staring into the mirror that he had broken the night before, Yao let out a long breath, and rested a grumpy face upon his propped elbow. It was noon, and Ivan was supposed to be leaving any time now.
However, he couldn't bring himself to run to the front gates and say goodbye to him. Besides, Ivan probably didn't even want to see him. Yao had visited his room last night carrying a basket of his favourite sweets, hoping to console the poor kid. He knocked on his door repeatedly and stood in the cold for almost ten minutes, but received no answer. Either Ivan had fallen asleep before the skies had even darkened, or he was still mad at Yao.
He told himself that he had already gone through enough embarrassment for Ivan's sake, and there was no need for him to condescend once more, for the little pinch of pride he had left.
After all, it was Ivan's own fault that he overreacted, right?
The bouquet that Ivan had given him on the day they met were still contained in a glass vase on his desk. The once vivid red petals had sered, and the flowerheads had become sad. Yao found himself staring blankly into vase's murky green water which had once been crystal clear.
Yao was glad that he had met Ivan, someone to whom he could be true about his feelings. Around him, he didn't have to wear a mask of false elegance, and, for the first time since his mother died, he could let his guard down when speaking to another person.
And now, it was time for him to toss the flowers out, no matter how pretty they may had been, or how delightfully well the red petals had matched his curtains, bed sheets, furniture, and pretty much everything else in his room.
Nothing lasted forever, and trying to hold onto the ephemeral would just make things ugly.
Yao had left the door open intentionally to let the winds blow new air into his room. The dampness had been giving him knee pains. He set his elbows upon the table and laid his head down, minding not to cut himself with the shards of glass from his broken mirror, that had been splattered across the wooden surface. He didn't have much to do today, and even if he did, he didn't feel up to it.
Deciding to take a brief nap, he closed his eyes, and let the aroma of fresh, defrosting earth lull him into sleep. But, before his mind slipped away, what felt like a bony finger poked his side. Rather hard, too. Yao stayed still, hoping the intruder would go away, and not to mention, fall off a cliff and die for having so rudely disrupted his beauty sleep. But, apparently the intruder was not disheartened, as Yao felt something tug his ear a couple of times, followed by what sounded like Ivan's voice calling his name worriedly.
He shot up and turned to look at Ivan, almost not wanting to.
"Does Yao feel alright today?" Ivan asked, placing a palm against his forehead, "'Cause he looks like shit."
Ivan, who had just realized that he said a naughty word, gasped and slapped his hand over his mouth. He shook his head furiously, as if doing that could take back what he had said.
Yao, who was more than glad that Ivan was back to his normal self, smiled wearily. He had just accepted the fact that it was going to take divine providence to rectify Ivan's manners.
"So you are not mad at me anymore?" Ivan asked.
"No, Ivan, I'm not mad at you anymore..." Yao said, massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Yay!" He jumped up and down repeatedly, making everything in the room rattle. Some of the broken glass slipped off the table and shattered against the floor. Ivan leaned over and gave Yao bone-crushing hug, to which Yao did not protest.
Finally, after a few minutes of peace, Ivan asked, or rather, stated, "So, Yao will marry me."
He froze. "I beg your pardon?"
"Willyoumarryme?" Ivan said all in one word. His lips shot up into a wide, somewhat nightmare-inducing grin.
"Um... no." Yao answered bluntly.
This time, it only took a millisecond for Yao to register that he had said the wrong thing again. But, it took even less time for Ivan's face to fall.
Yao cursed himself for still having been so thoughtless with his words. He had already witnessed the potential of Ivan's temper once before, and... he had a lot of expensive things in this room.
Quickly, Yao leaned over and cupped Ivan's reddening cheek. "I meant... Yes I will!" he said quickly.
Ivan relaxed his frown and blinked a few times in confusion. "...What?"
Yao rolled his eyes. "Yes, Ivan, I will marry you, as long as you won't throw a tantrum and break something..." He cooed, with the most sweet, doting voice he could possibly squeeze out of his lips.
Ivan beamed at him incredulously, his eyes sparkling like purple lakes. "Oh, Yao!" He stood up and threw his arms around his neck. "I promise that you will be the happiest wife in the whole world!" He declared proudly, and loudly into Yao's ear.
Yao patted his idiot head comfortingly. Just playing along...
Though, Yao thought it was nice that their parting moment was a nice one, since after today, they probably wouldn't get to see each other ever again.
"Yao?" Ivan finally said, breaking their embrace, "I have to go now."
"Okay, I understand."
Yao stared into those eyes once more, and remembered the moment when they had first enchanted him. They would have held an even more breathtaking glow, if only their beholder didn't turn out to be such a pain in the ass.
Well, Yao supposed that at least, Ivan had kept him company for the last week or so, and Yao couldn't have asked for anything more, from anyone.
"You take care of yourself, okay? And be nice to your sisters." He said, petting his shaggy hair.
"Okay." Ivan said obediently. "And I promise I'll come back for you someday, when I am big and strong enough to carry you!"
Yao could only scoff at Ivan's innocence. Those were their final moments, and he knew that, for deserts and mountains stood between their homes. They had their time, and it was over.
But, for now, it seemed like what kept them apart was only a few centimetres of air.
Yao narrowed his eyes. When had they become so close?
Before Yao had a chance to move an inch, or even open his mouth to say something, Ivan rolled on his tip-toes and... kissed him. It was light and short, but Yao felt it like a hammer smashing into his head.
Did he just...?
That little bastard!
And when Yao opened his eyes, Ivan was already skipping away victoriously, humming a tune.
There is one more chapter after this one. :) I hope you liked it. Reviews are always welcome.