It had been some time since that hazy Valentine's Day when Arthur had demanded Ivan's acceptance and claimed his lips. In fact years had passed. Still there was something niggling Ivan and it wouldn't quite leave him alone.

Their sex life.

It was always competent, usually fulfilling whether he topped or bottomed and generally a very gentlemanly affair. There was just something -missing-. As a younger man Ivan had often heard tales of England and his conquests. In fact the man's very name could inspire a definite surge of fear. So why was he so… tame in bed? Occasionally he'd been pinned to a wall or the bed but Arthur had always been an utter gentleman. It was starting to worry him. Perhaps he just didn't have what it took to make the Englishman really lose control?

So he started to leave little things around the house. A length of rope, silk ribbons. At one point he left army-strength handcuffs in the living room. For his part either Arthur was oblivious or he was playing dumb. Each time he cleared the item away without even batting a lash. Eventually in desperation Ivan had resorted to laying Arthur's imperial uniform out on the dresser.

"Alright, what is the meaning of this?"

A plumed hat was thrust in his general direction, emerald eyes somewhere between curiosity and irritation. Still the whole thing was embarrassing and Ivan didn't really want to discuss it. Leaving hints was one thing, full admission was completely another.

"You want me to wear this?"

A meek nod, crimson staining pale cheeks.

"You want…" Arthur was a lot of things, stupid was not one of them, his mind swiftly leaping from possibility to possibility.

"You want me to… overwhelm you?" It all made sense now. The rope that would have made good rigging, the handcuffs, the shy looks Ivan gave him every so often. A surge of heat sunk into his stomach at the thought of forcing Russia to his knees. Power was intoxicating and he enjoyed it greatly. Still he hadn't engaged in that kind of thing with his colonies, he'd merely defeated them. Of course he wasn't exactly unversed in power play.

Carefully he sat down next to Ivan, combing fingers through the elaborate plume to smooth it out. Hesitating for a moment, still flushed another small affirmative nod was given.

"I have two conditions. Firstly I won't tell you a date nor time, secondly… and this is important Ivan, you need to give me a safe word. The last thing in the world I'd want to do is make you feel uncomfortable or unpleasant. The second you feel either of those things you need only say the word and I will stop."

A very faint giggle born of excitement or fondness slipped from Ivan's lips. It was just like Arthur to be so concerned and frankly it was something to be grateful for. At times though he was eccentric or stubborn he usually had his heart in the right place.

"Sunflower~"

Ivan had almost forgotten about the awkward conversation, almost. Still it came as a surprise when the flicker of red in the corner of his vision was followed by his head swiftly being pressed to the wood of the kitchen table. Steel pressed to his temple, the eerie sound of an antique pistol being cocked drawing his attention immediately to focus.

"Hands where I can see them."

British tones were rough, guttural and commanding. Ivan found his mouth suddenly dry as he reacted slowly, lifting his hands to rest on the table before him. Arthur surely wouldn't shoot him, right? Of course he wouldn't die but the pain would not be pleasant.

Wrists were grasped and lashed together before fingers sunk into platinum strands and yanked his head back. When their eyes met he barely recognised his lover. Emerald depths were cold, almost vicious, a feral smile curling Arthur's lips. Roughly his jaw was seized as the shorter leaned in.

"The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, better known as Captain Arthur Kirkland, you'd do well to remember the name of the one to whom you now belong. You may consider yourself a spoil of war. I consider you nothing more than my pet."

Heat coloured Ivan's cheeks, a little anger too. Didn't this man know who he was addressing? Russia was no one's pet. Just as he opened lips to complain he was invaded, a hot tongue sweeping into his mouth, challenging and domineering. At first he fought back but before long he felt resistance wane as irritation faded into quite a different emotion.

"Come with me."

Tension down the rope yanked him from the chair. Sometimes it was easy to forget the force the small blonde wielded; usually it was hidden below well cut suits or conciliatory words. Now Ivan could appreciate it. Arthur was a force of nature if he wanted to be, he didn't let his size or the odds worry him.

Roughly he was pushed down onto the bed, arms trapped above him and lashed to the headboard. Feeling a little vulnerable he squirmed into the sheets, realising that Arthur was just watching him. Dryly swallowing he fell still, trying to work out what was going on in the Brit's mind.

"I think I'll claim you as my own. You're much too -cute- for the men."

Fingers trailed the inner of his thigh possessively, the barest scrape of nails causing Ivan to bite his lip. Breath was taken in sharply as the hand cupped his groin, rubbing him through the trouser fabric. An appreciative growl caused him to flush as he started to stir beneath taunting rubbing.

"I think I'm going to like you Russia, I think I'm going to like you a lot."