Russia returned a few hours later, as promised. With him he brought a leather leash and a little key.
Matthew's eyes widened when he saw the leash.
Oh you have got to be kidding me..
But Ivan was serious.
The larger man sat on the bed next to Matthew with a strange sort of calm in his eyes. He grabbed the little Canadian by the chain about his neck and dragged him so close their noses were almost touching. Light purple eyes stared into his own and it was all Matthew could do to keep from pushing himself away. He felt fear digging into his chest.
"If you try to run or hide," Ivan's voice was soft, but deadly serious, "I will catch you and beat you until you are broken and blind. Do you understand me?"
Matthew swallowed at the huge lump of terror that had formed in his throat. He nodded, his eyes as wide as England's tea saucers.
"Good."
Ivan's expression changed as quickly as the switch of a light. His smile was bright and happy, and he used the key to unlock the chain around the little blonds neck. He attached the leash in it's place, securing it with the padlock.
He stood and tugged Matthew up after him.
Canada never felt more ridiculous as he was led naked from the tiny bedroom into the hallway. His face was flushed dark red as he walked with his hands covering that part of himself, and he hoped like mad that no one else was around. He was sure Russia would have servants in the house, but lucky for him none appeared as he followed the larger man down the hall.
Russia opened one of the many doors along the hallway and Canada saw a spacious, comfortable looking bathroom. The wallpaper was wearing away in places and the fixtures looked old, but they clearly worked because the large tub in the centre of the room was already full of steaming, soapy water.
Well.. there goes my hopes for a solo shower.
Ivan tugged Matthew's leash and motioned that he should get into the bath. Canada's heart sped up as he realized his fears were coming true. Russia did indeed intend to bathe him.
Blushing furiously, Matthew stayed where he was, staring between the bathtub and the Russian. How could Ivan expect him to go along with this? This was outrageous! This was so humiliating! This was unthinkable! This was..
SMACK.
Canada yelped and jumped when the Russian used the end of the leash to smack him across his behind. A stinging red welt raised where the leather had hit him, and he rubbed at the spot. He opened his mouth to yell at Ivan in surprised anger, but gagged instead when the Russian yanked his leash. He was forced down over the bathroom counter and held there as two more loud slapping sounds echoed through the room. Ivan brought the leather down over the fair skin of Canada's ass, leaving bright red marks in their wake.
"Stop, Vanya! Please! I'll get in!" Matthew cried.
Ivan released him and Matthew trembled as he walked to the tub. He gingerly stepped in, careful not to slip, and lowered himself into the hot water. Normally he loved a steamy bath, but the heat made the welts on his poor bottom sting as he sat down. The leather leash dangled over the side of the tub. Ivan had let it go long enough to start taking off his shirt.
Matthew sunk low in the water as he watched, his eyes wide. Did Russia intend to get into the bathtub too? It was certainly big enough for two people, but Matthew thought he'd die if Ivan got naked and into the water with him. Still.. he couldn't help but admire as the Russian pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it aside. Ivan's shoulders were broad. His chest, tho not bulging and ripped like Germany, was well muscled. His arms were thick and strong and his skin was very pale. There were many faded scars.. but Matthew didn't have time to focus on them. Russia was kneeling beside the bathtub and reaching for a bar of soap and a washcloth.
So.. he's not getting into the tub?
Canada felt relieved. Ivan had only taken his sweater off to avoid getting it wet. He'd left his pants on.
The relief was short lived when Russia plunged the washcloth into the water, then worked up a good lather with the soap. He started by scrubbing at Canada's chest, then down both of his arms.
Matthew was so embarrassed and ashamed by what was happening that he wasn't sure what to do. He sat numbly, allowing the larger man to wash him, even leaning forward as Ivan scrubbed his way down his back.
He tensed when Russia's hands went beneath the water. He felt the cloth scrubbing at his legs, then his thighs.. Ivan lifted the cloth from the water to add more soap.. then went to work on his stomach.. and lower..
"V-Vanya.. p-please.." Matthew whispered, shaking. He grabbed Ivan's hand just as it brushed over his navel. He met the Russian's eyes, his own pleading and filled with anxious fear. No one had ever touched him there before.
"Please.. n-no.."
A silent and tense moment passed for the little Canadian.. then Ivan smiled and rinsed the washcloth and set it aside.
He picked up a small bottle of shampoo and squirted some into his palm. Matthew quickly cleaned himself down 'there', then leaned back into the water to wet his hair. Ivan set to work on washing it thoroughly.
Matthew remembered the last time someone had bathed him like this. It was Papa France, and he hadn't been alone in the tub. America had been with him, splashing and laughing and blowing soap suds everywhere. Canada, the quieter of the two, had obediently sat still as France washed his hair.. just as he sat obediently now for Russia.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as Ivan used a pitcher to rinse the soap from his locks. Once he was clean, Ivan stood and dried his hands and arms off on a towel. He put his shirt back on. Matthew stood and took Russia's hand for help in stepping out of the tub.
He was wrapped in a big, fluffy towel. He felt childish as the Russian rubbed him dry from head to toe. He knew this was just an excuse for Ivan's hands to be all over his body. And his body was treacherous as it reacted to the touch. He grabbed for the towel and wrapped it around his hips, bunching it at the front so Russia wouldn't see the growing hardness there.
If Ivan noticed, he didn't say anything. He took a brush from the bathroom counter and worked the tangles from the little blond's hair. When wet, Matthew's hair almost reached his shoulders. Ivan set the brush aside and hummed as he wrapped his arms around his damp Canadian.
"You are beautiful, Matvey." He said softly, and Matthew blushed. "You will grow your hair longer for me, da?"
Grow my hair longer? Matthew blinked. How long does he think he can keep me here?
Truthfully, Canada had seriously thought about growing his hair out before. It was a little longer than America's hair now, and wavy, but it wasn't enough to keep from being mistaken for Alfred. A longer style - maybe even longer than Papa France - might help.
Russia turned him, and Canada noticed the mirror above the cupboard. He gazed at himself, and at Ivan who stood behind him, still holding him. The right side of his face, where Russia had hit him before was bruised.. his cheek was a strange mix of fading purple and yellow with the light rouge of a blush.
"Vanya?" Matthew said softly, his eyes following the mirror movements of Ivan's hands as they traveled up and down his bare arms.
"Mmm?" The Russian answered, as he brushed wet blond hair away from Canada's neck. Matthew felt his whole body go to gooseflesh when Ivan placed a soft kiss on his freshly washed skin, just above the collar. He grew harder beneath his towel and he wanted to pull away, but was afraid Ivan would become angry with him.
"May I have my glasses?"
Ivan stopped and straightened, then nodded with a smile.
"Of course. They are downstairs."
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief when the Russian moved away. The distraction had worked.
Ivan pulled a set of simple looking clothes from a drawer and handed them to Canada who turned, dropped his towel, and quickly dressed. He was happy to see the shirt was tunic-style and went down over his hips. Easier to hide an erection. He quickly pulled on the pair of pants he was given and tied the shirts sash over top.
Once he was dressed, Ivan took his leash and led Matthew out of the bathroom and back into the hall. They went down two flights of stairs and into what Matthew assumed was the main part of the Russian's house. It was large and looked as old as the upstairs, but at least it seemed well kept. Canada's earlier assumption that Ivan had servants was correct. A maid was at the bottom of the staircase, waiting for them as they descended.
Matthew turned his face away, feeling absolutely humiliated to be at the end of a leash as if he were an animal. The maid questioned Ivan in Russian, her voice soft and her eyes downcast in respect. He answered her, and she gave a short bow before hurrying off to some other part of the house.
Ivan tugged Matthew along through a sitting room, then down another hallway. The little Canadian glanced around as they walked, noticing details like the colour of the carpets, and the lavish decor. Beautiful paintings of Russian scenery lined the walls and Matthew couldn't help but admire. Ivan had good taste at least.
They entered a room that Matthew thought had to be straight out of a much earlier era, but not one he was familiar with. Thick, velvet blue drapes partially drawn back by chords of a golden colour lined a huge window that overlooked what would be a garden of flowers if it were Spring or Summer. There was a fireplace on one side of the room, and on it's mantel sat a set of exquisitely decorated nesting dolls. Overhead hung a handsome painting of Russia and his two sisters, Belarus and Ukraine, all dressed in traditional clothing.
The furniture in the room consisted of two love seats and a large armchair, each turned towards the fireplace which held a merrily crackling fire. Beyond them was a huge desk covered in mountains of paperwork. A laptop sat at the centre and looked out of place alongside everything else.
Vases with sunflowers added more colour to the room, along with other various paintings of Russia's past rulers and an old world map that had to be at least a hundred years old. There were bookcases everywhere, overflowing with all kinds of reading material. There was a small wet bar not far from the desk, with cupboards overhead that held more varieties of vodka than Matthew had ever seen in his life.
A cello sat in one corner, and beside it there was even a phonograph playing beautiful classical music.
Canada was impressed. Russia was obviously much more than just a crazy old nation who dragged around a metal faucet and threatened to make everyone 'one with him'. He had taste and lived like a gentleman. This room wasn't so much different than the ones he'd spent so much time in as a child living under England's house.
"This is my office." Ivan said, as tho Matthew hadn't guessed that already. "We will be spending lots of time here, da?"
He led Matthew to the window behind the large desk. The little Canadian was delighted to see it had a window seat covered in soft, cushy looking pillows. Papa France had a window just like this at his house. He used to spend hours curled up there, reading books and playing with his polar bear.
Looking out through the window showed Matthew that there would indeed be a garden growing there come Spring. He sat down and gazed at the snowy hedges and trees and wondered if he would still be trapped there with Russia when the weather warmed up.
Russia left him and went to open a drawer in the desk. A moment later, Matthew had his glasses handed to him. He smiled in thanks and put them on. He blinked a few times to refocus his eyes, then looked up at Ivan.
The larger man was smiling down at him. There was such an expression of affection in his eyes that Matthew blushed and had to look away. Russia's hand was in his hair again, petting it lovingly.
"You will be happy here, Matvey." He said softly, "I promise. No more loneliness."
Matthew pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.
No more loneliness. For me or for him?
He wondered if Russia was lonely. Once upon a time this house had been full of nations. Now it stood empty, save for Russia himself and his servants. Perhaps his sisters came to visit from time to time, but Matthew doubted anyone else ever did. Russia was never ignored or forgotten like Canada was, but no one ever wanted to be around him. Everyone was afraid of him.
Matthew frowned at himself. Was he starting to feel sorry for the man who'd kidnapped him?
Well.. maybe he was.
Maybe Russia had brought him here because he just wanted a friend... and didn't know how to go about getting one without the use of force.
He looked up at Ivan.. and allowed a tiny smile to cross his lips.
A knock came at the door. The maid entered, carrying a silver tray. She served hot tea to Russia, and to Matthew, then left, closing the door behind her. Ivan went to a bookcase nearby and pulled down a thick tomb. He handed it to Matthew, who took it and read the title.
'Cyrillic Script For Beginners'.
"No one in this house speak English but me. This is your home now. You learn Russian, da?"
Matthew sighed and chewed on his bottom lip. He nodded. It was best to go along with what Russia wanted for now, and it never hurt to learn a new language anyway.
Ivan smiled and turned to sit at his desk. Matthew watched as he started working on one of the piles of paperwork. The leash had been dropped and left. Canada picked up it's end and tucked it beneath one of the cushions so it wasn't dangling on the floor.
With nothing else to do, Matthew opened the book to page one and began to read. The music played softly and the afternoon hours rolled away through the sky with the sun.