A/N

Somewhere after Lithuania accepted Napoleon's forces as a means to escape Russian rule, and after the failure of the 1830 rebellion along side the Polish.


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Toris was still working on paperwork in his office when Ivan found him. A small room on the same level as Ivan's own, with a simple bookcase and desk and little to no decoration. Ivan complained if it was anything not Russian-style, after all. It was late in the evening, and everyone else had already retired to bed. But not the Lithuanian, no, not the blond's 'personal assistant'. Most people might think that the extra work-load was just to pick on the intelligent brunette. But alas, Toris' extra work had meaning beyond mere bullying, or even past just easing the Russian's own work load. And that was, quite simply, keeping the rebellion prone nation occupied.

Reading over papers that Ivan was to sign, going over the national budget, and managing any number of things that were already being taken care of. Almost everything that came across Ivan's desk had been read by the smaller nation first. And so when heavy bottle of vodka thunked down onto the heavy wooden desk, it drew curious green eyes up from the stack of papers they had been reading. "M-Mr. Braginski…?" He asked in a wary voice. The Russian's smile was wide, enough so to reach his eyes.

"You've been working so hard lately, Toris. I really appreciate it! And so for that, I got you a little gift…" He released the neck of the bottle, indicating it as a whole. Toris' cheeks colored with heat, and he swallowed uneasily,

"Th…That's really not necessary. I'm happy to be useful." He said with a tense smile. Ivan shook his head, waving his finger at the smaller nation.

"Tsk, tsk. What kind of manners are those?" The blond chastised in a sweet voice, frowning slightly. "One should accept praise gratefully, and with a smile! And we're not working, so call me Ivan!" Toris flinched slightly, nodding his head.

"O-of course...! I-I gladly accept your praise, and this gift! Thank youIvan." Placing the quill down on the table, he reached out to touch the neck of the bottle. It was then that Ivan's smile returned in full, though he could swear that those violet eyes became a shade darker.

"Ura!" He exclaimed happily, setting his hand over the cap of the vodka. "Let's go then!"

"G…Go?" Toris asked, feeling the tug of the hook he'd been caught on.

"Mn! To the living room! I thought we'd share a drink or two together. Drinking by one's self if too lonely, after all." Ivan said with a tone of lament. The brunette seemed to perk up a little then, thinking that perhaps he understood. The Russian loved to drink and vodka most of all. But if he was too lonely drinking alone, that was all he had to say! Smiling easily, Toris nodded his head as he stood,

"A-alright then. I can always finish these tomorrow…" He stacked the papers off to the right, and came around the side of his desk.

Toris stoked the fire to life as Ivan closed the large double doors behind them, closing the large living room off from the rest of the house. It was to keep the noise down, he explained, and the Lithuanian only accepted the explanation. He'd seen how Ivan could get when he drank, after all. The Russian had a penchant for singing when he was inebriated, along with rhyming and clapping his hands—maybe all three at once.

The room was still cold as it was, so they decided to sit by the fire where it was warmest. "Oh!" Toris exclaimed just before he sat down, "Glasses! I'll go and get—!" He was caught by his wrist, glancing down to the seated Russian. Ivan smiled as he let him go, opening the bottle and taking a few deep gulps.

"Ah," He gasped in satisfaction as he lowered the bottle, offering it to the Lithuanian. "No need for those. Share with me! It's your gift after all!" He wiggled the bottle so that the clear liquid spun. Toris blushed a little, but he sat down anyway.

"I-I guess you're right…" He said as he took the bottle from him, taking a swig of his own. He swallowed hard, coughing a few times as Ivan laughed.

"Strong, da?" He asked, patting the brunette's back hard enough to make him cough again. Toris nodded, offering it back. But Ivan pushed it back towards his subordinate, shaking his head. "More, more! Drink up Toris, I won't let you skip out tonight!"And what could he really do besides obey? The last thing that he needed was for Ivan to become upset with him, and give him even more work to fill his days. He was being given a chance to take a much-needed break, and perhaps he would even get to sleep in a little the next morning. Unless the blond was feeling particularly cruel, Toris didn't see why he'd encourage him to drink enough to feel the effects of the strong drink only to hold him to his usual early schedule.

Again and again he took a drink from the large bottle, which grew lighter and lighter in his hands. Ivan took it from him now and then, taking smaller and smaller swigs. Soon the Russian was drinking twice to every five of Toris', and before long, it was once to every three. The more that the brunette drank, the brighter the flush of his face became. The more that he smiled, and spoke in a cheerful voice. He began to talk more freely, leaning in and touching the Russian's arm with his hand whenever he told a particularly exciting or frightening detail of his story.

Ivan stopped drinking all together just to watch the Lithuanian behave this way, thankful that the flush across his pale cheeks could be taken for the alcohol that he hadn't even consumed. He could feel the heat of those long and elegant fingers on his arm through the sleeve of his shirt each time, and it was quickly spreading up along his arm. He blamed it on the fire at first, until he felt a special jolt of heat raced throughout his body as the now quite inebriated nation beside him tried to lean over again, only to press his shoulder against Ivan's right arm.

"Ah… hahaha!" Toris laughed, patting Ivan's leg with his other hand as he stayed against him. "Atsiprasau, atsiprasau Ivan!" He chuckled. "I'll sit up, h-hold on…" He reached up to brush his unruly bangs from his face, sliding his fingers all the way back to slip the ribbon from his hair. "Aah… That's better…" He glanced up to the blond then, a slightly worried look on his face. "Oh, forgive me… I'm so troublesome like this, aren't I? I should have warned you…" He smiled again, shaking his head. There were a few stray hairs stuck to his moist lower lip, making him appear all the more mussed. The Russian swallowed hard, though he smiled ever so sweetly.

"It's quite alright. I don't mind at all. Toris is… Toris is wonderful as always." His voice was almost quiet. The Lithuanian chuckled, half-closing his eyes. Ivan's left hand rose slowly, holding his breath as he brushed away those hairs from the brunette's lip. It hovered in place there for a moment, before his thumb pressed against the lower one, tracing it from corner to corner. Toris frowned slightly, looking up curiously.

"Ivan…?" He questioned with a slightly raised eyebrow, expecting that the blond was playing a joke to make him uncomfortable just to see his face. But the larger nation let out the slow breath that he had been holding, his voice much huskier than his normal soft tone.

"…It's Toris' fault." He murmured, capturing that smaller chin in his fingers and leaning down to press his own against those silky, vodka-flavored ones. Green eyes went wide as Toris pushed away, falling onto his back.

"Ivan, what—!" He gasped as the larger nation loomed over him suddenly, capturing his wrists and holding them above his head as he straddled his hips. The Russian's face was anguished, and yet his cheeks were flushed a deep red. The pupils of his violet eyes were dark, his bangs hanging in his face.

"It's Toris' fault!" He accused again, as the Lithuanian twisted slightly under him. Under normal circumstances, the brunette was quite apt at protecting himself. But like this, his head was dizzy and he couldn't quite control his drink-heavy limbs. "Showing me such faces… Smiling at me, and talking with me… Everyone's so afraid of me, but Toris…! He's my friend… That's why… That's why… I can't wait anymore!" He released the smaller nation's wrists, taking a hold of his shoulder and flipping him onto his stomach.

"W-wait, Ivan…!" The Lithuanian's hands pressed in vain against the thick rug they lay on. Ivan lifted the back of his shirt, baring his back and pressing against his shoulders to keep him pinned. "Aah, ne…!"

"Beautiful…" Ivan murmured, leaning down to breathe across that smooth skin. Warm, wet lips met the middle of brunette's back, evicting a small gasp from his prey. They continued across that tender flesh as Toris squirmed, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "So warmMoy Toris… How long I've wanted you…" The slightly calloused fingertips of Ivan's free hand trailed down the center of the smaller nation's back, over each and every bump.

"Please… Ah, let go…!" Toris' begged, his breathing ragged and his voice wavering. Ivan's fingers stopped at the rim of his subordinate's pants, where his hand trembled slightly.

"…I'm sorry, Toris. This really is your fault…You can see what you've done to me… I can't hold back anymore...!" The blond lamented, voice thick with heavy breaths as he gave the waist-band a hard tug. Buttons popped, and Toris gave a short cry of pain and surprise when the pants slid down his thighs, all the way to his knees.

"Ivan…!" Warm air from the fire, and cold air from the rest of the room assaulted Toris' bare skin now, and he shuddered as he bent his knees to buck up in an effort to twist aside. But the larger nation's overpowering body was on top of his own in an instant, pressing his hips almost painfully back into the floor. The Russian's scarf fell over one shoulder to cover the brunette's green eyes for a moment, before he grabbed a hold of it to tug in protest. He could feel now what it was that Ivan 'couldn't hold back'—the hardness pressed right up against his backside. He gave a cry of dismay as it dawned on his alcohol-muddled mind exactly what Ivan had planned, his entire body tense and trembling with the strain to fight against that impossible weight. But lips pressed against his ear, and Ivan's voice was soft again, no matter how low it was…

"Nyet, nyet, nyet!" He panted heavily, placing a small kiss on the brunette's cheek. "Don't be frightened, moy Toris! I would never… I-I just want to rub it between your thighs—I promise! J-just a little, alright?"

"No…!" Toris gasped out, but already Ivan's hips were lifting so that his free hand could come between them to undo his own. The brunette cursed himself as he felt his face burn hotter than the alcohol could ever make it get. Tears of humiliation were still gathered in his eyes, and his heart was racing so quickly that he feared that it might burst. He'd never even known that Ivan was interested him in him like this! Sure, the Russian had little concept of personal space, and he often said strange things, but…! Mostly, Toris blamed himself for falling right into such an obvious trap, biting down on his lower lip. He closed his eyes tightly with a whimper. "…Natalya…" He whispered lowly. Violet eyes widened a little, and Ivan paused for a moment.

"Moya sestra? Ah…" His expression became shadowed. A jolt of anger, of possessiveness, of something he couldn't quite describe passed through the Russian in that brief moment. He nuzzled the back of Toris' head. "She doesn't want you." His voice was airy, merciless. "And… even if she did, even if she is my dear sister, I will never have this, moy Toris…!" His free hand slid down, raising Toris' hips a little from the harsh rug. He was straddling the smaller nation's legs with his own, so he did his best to keep the brunette's legs pressed together. "Bear with me…"

"Mmn…Ahh!" Toris gasped as he felt his superior nation's thick member slide in between his own sweat-slick thighs, closing his eyes tightly as his hands curled into fists, the right one holding Ivan's scarf. I-it felt so…!

"Hot…!" Ivan groaned, his own eyes closing in pleasure. Strange, Toris thought to himself. And yet, as humiliating as this was, he knew it could be so much worse. The first slap of bare skin rocked his smaller body a bit, and he had to press on the floor with his palms to keep himself still. Ivan's heavy breath fell over his neck and face, along with his small sounds of pleasure. His voice… It was so… different like this. Low and husky, and almost… raw. He'd never heard the Russian so unreserved like this. Toris' own breath was coming out in heavy pants, his body still throbbing with heat from the vodka and the struggle. The course rug was harsh on his sensitive chest where his shirt had gathered up, and his nipples were soon sore from it.

Ivan's length slid easily back and forth between his tightly pressed thighs, and even the rubbing by its self was … vulgar. When accompanied by the loud slaps of flesh that filled the room and the fact that he could feel that very arousal against his own sensitive places, it was no wonder that he couldn't control himself! "Aaah… h-ha.. ah!" Toris' voice slipped past bitten lips as he felt his body betray him. He half-prayed that Ivan would be too wrapped up in his own pleasure to notice, but no such luck.

The Russian nearly lost his rhythm when he heard those soft sounds, and his hand moved straight from the brunette's hip to his vitals. Wrapping his long fingers around Toris' own impressive length, Ivan gave an elated cry of happiness. "Toris… Toris is hard…!" He panted in ecstasy. He removed the hand from the smaller nation's shoulders, but the Lithuanian no longer tried to escape. Instead the brunette groaned as he was stroked, trembling in a mixture of pleasure and shame. Ivan's thrusts stopped, sitting up a bit to lift those hips a little more, pulling his member free to rub it between Toris' cheeks instead. "Ne, Toris… should I put it in for real?" He asked excitedly.

"N-no…!" The brunette shied away again, trying to twist away without his balance. Ivan caught him easily enough, pinning him down.

"Nyet, nyet—I was teasing!" He promised breathlessly. "Shh, shh, j-just a little… little more…" Those warm fingers grasped a hold of Toris' arousal again, stroking him firmly.

"Mmh…!"

"You want… more too, da?" He whispered into the Lithuanian's ear, tickling the stray hair there again. Toris closed his eyes tightly, biting his lower lip again. "Doesn't Toris… Want to come with me?" After a few more heavy breaths, and one suppressed moan, the brunette nodded swiftly. Ivan didn't need to be told again. He pulled his hips back eagerly, reinserting his member back between those thighs and resuming his thrusts with renewed vigor. Now that the Lithuanian had given in and was playing along, he no longer had to hold those hips up, nor keep them close together. This allowed him to thrust without reserve, bringing the both of them the most friction and intimacy that they could achieve like this. It was a mockery of everything that sex should be, and yet Ivan couldn't be happier.

The moment that he felt his precious Lithuanian's hot seed spill out over his stroking hand, and heard his low and breathless cry of pleasure, he soiled those perfect, smooth, and well-toned thighs with his own essence. They lay together for a while afterwards, Ivan resting on his elbows as they fought to catch their breath. It wasn't until Ivan finally gained the energy to sit up that either of them spoke, and when they did it was Toris who began.

"Bastard…" He sniffed, still holding the end of Ivan's scarf, which he covered his face with. The Russian closed his eyes, smiling a little sadly.

"Da." He said softly.

"You… tricked me!" Toris accused. Ivan opened his eyes, giving a nod.

"Da."

"And you're not even sorry…!" The brunette turned onto his side, glaring up at the Russian with bright green eyes, which were still wet with the tears that he had never shed. Ivan had the decency to look guilty, even while he smiled.

"Nyet." He said with a small shake of his head. Toris pushed himself to sit up, wobbling and nearly falling over. Ivan reached out to catch him, but his hand was smacked away.

"Don't…!" The smaller nation protested, alarmed. He held his head a moment later. After he had regained his composure, he looked to Ivan again. "…Why?" His voice wavered. Why would you do this, why to me? But Ivan smiled peacefully now, as he answered in the most honest voice that he could manage.

"Ya tebya lyublyu, Toris."


To be continued…?