I've wanted to write this for months now. The Forest Brothers were amazing freedom fighters, and they inspired me deeply enough to write a school final on them. Anyway, my friend Sonnel requested this, so how could I not finally do it? It was her idea to include Gilbert—and I am so glad I did. Notes at the bottom.



The whole place smelled. Mildew, rotting wood, mud, and worst of all—un-emptied piss pots. Gilbert's nose wrinkled and he covered it with the back of his hand. His clothing was covered in dirt, straw sticking to it here and there from the mud. They'd been out in the middle of fucking nowhere for days now, and as far as the Prussian was concerned, this was a wild goose chase. Ivan called it 'fox and the hound'. Sighing, he steeled himself for the Russian's disappointment as he walked back over to the narrow shaft.

Too narrow for Ivan's wider body, though if he dared to mention that he'd only get punched again. His boots could barely get a grip on the slick surface as he climbed, gloves grabbing to the remnants of what used to be a ladder. It was now almost completely covered in mud as well, just like everything else. The light above was close, and he grasped the solid lip of the floor at last. Setting his foot on one of the rungs, he went to step and pull himself up. "Scheiße!" He cursed as his foot slipped out from under him. His chin headed right for the lip he'd grabbed on to, and he braced for impact. Jerking to a halt, he nearly choked as his collar suddenly became tighter.

"Oops." The voice above him chimed. "Careful, little rabbit." Gilbert winced. He would have preferred the busted chin. He grunted as he was pulled all the way out like that, dropped to his knees. Hand going up to his throat to rub at where the collar had chafed, red eyes looked up. Violet eyes stared down at him expectantly, and God, Ivan looked impossibly tall from on his hands and knees.

"Nothing." Gilbert muttered.

"Come again?" Those eyes narrowed.

"I said nothing!" The Prussian stood up, brushing off what he could of the mud and dirt. "Just like the last one, it was nothing but mud and fucking shit. Not even a stray bullet was left behind. They're gone, Ivan." And damn it, even when he was standing the Russian loomed over him. He could understand Ivan's frustration. Really he could. Four days of this and Gilbert was ready to call it quits—two days ago! But not Ivan. The Russian's expression was unreadable, looking past Gilbert and down into the hole leading to the underground room. When he failed to speak up, Gilbert slipped off his gloves and sighed. "Look, if you don't believe me you can send another man down there. Sergei's small enough, right? Just—"



"Please stop talking before I throw you back down into that pit and toss in a grenade." Ivan's voice was calm and collected, and even though Gilbert glared at him, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Why? Because Ivan would do it.

"…Tch." The white-haired nation turned his back, heaving outside of the small barn. Six men greeted him, all Russian Red Army soldiers. All of them had been fighting the Brothers for years now, seasoned veterans. These men had the highest rate of seeking out their underground bunkers and capturing—killing the inhabitants. However they had yet to find one that wasn't abandoned. They'd torn apart every farmhouse and barn they'd come to but none of it yielded any fruit. Or foxes, as Ivan so lovingly called his little stray dog.

Fucking Toris. The Lithuanian nation had chosen a hell of a time to run off. Didn't he see that it was hopeless? All he'd managed to do was make the Russian more intent on finding and slaughtering his fellow partisans. The bear was out of the cave, but he'd yet to come out of the barn. One of the soldiers was talking to him, but Gilbert only glared. Like hell he spoke Russian! Gilbert waved his hand back behind him, storming off to sit on a stump of a tree. Grabbing his bag, he pulled out a canteen and took a few long swallows. It didn't wash down the feeling of dirt in his throat though.

One of the men, Vasily he thought, went into the barn. There was a shout, angry sounding Russian words, and he came back out a short while later. Gilbert almost smiled to see the blood running from his split lip. Better you than me, shithead. He thought to himself. Ivan exited the barn a moment later, his expression still neutral. He headed for Gilbert, stopping a few feet away in front of him. "It's getting dark." He stated the obvious, but Gilbert didn't bother to point that out. "We'll camp. If we don't find something tomorrow… We'll go back." Thank God, Gilbert thought as he gave a glance up to the sky. "With a few less comrades." Ivan finished, glancing behind him to the murmuring men.

"Sounds good. We'll find something tomorrow then." Gilbert gave a roll of his cramped shoulders. Ivan stared at Gilbert for a while longer, until the point that it became uncomfortable. Red eyes stayed on a worm that he found struggling in the mud. When he was finally released from that gaze he sighed in relief. You better be fucking invisible, Toris. Gilbert thought bitterly. Either they would find him tomorrow, and Ivan would enact his pound of flesh from his naughty subordinate, or they would go home empty handed. And Ivan would then channel his frustration on Gilbert, Eduard, and Raivis…Not like he cared about the other two Baltics. But like hell he wanted that for himself! Grabbing his pack, Gilbert stood up to follow the direction that Ivan had walked off in.

Camp that night was sparse. The men didn't want to risk a fire, so they'd eaten only old rations. The brick of… whatever it was, tasted like shit. And Gilbert decided he'd rather not know what it actually was. He could make out the shapes of the soldiers in the dark; all of them already sleep on the damp floor of the woods. Everything was drying out fast though, thus was the chill of winter. Already the leaves which covered the ground were crunching as Gilbert shifted. Ivan was awake though, sitting up against a tree and staring off into the woods. The Prussian couldn't sleep either, so he gave a sigh of defeat. Lifting up his blanket, he walked over to the tree. Sitting down against the side of it, he glanced over to Ivan.

Ivan was drinking. His flask rattled as he lifted it for another gulp, and Gilbert knew that it was almost empty. He hated to ask, but… "I could really use some of that right about now." He spoke up quietly. Ivan's eyes moved over to take in the Prussian beside him, looking him over without even turning his head. Finally, he handed over the flask. "Ah, thanks a ton." Gilbert took it gladly, tilting his head back to swallow a mouthful of the burning liquid. "Ahh…" Licking his lips, he handed it back. Ivan looked down at the flask now, giving it a twirl. Tilting his head back, he held the mouth of the flask about an inch from his lips. The last of the clear liquid poured into it, but Ivan wasn't satisfied with that. His tongue snaked out from his pale pink lips, the tip of it sliding into the opening in the flask. Gilbert felt his face heat up, even as his expression shifted to one of disgust. Ivan sealed his lips around the opening then, giving a wet suck before it popped free from his mouth.

Gilbert averted his eyes, heart hammering in his chest. Fucking crazy Commie… He wanted his vodka that bad, huh? Well, the Prussian supposed that he couldn't really blame him. He'd suck a bottle of beer off right now if he had the chance. Looking back Ivan, he noticed he was staring into the trees again. "M…man, you're starting to freak me out a little. What do you think, the trees are gonna tell you where he is?" He raised an eyebrow. Ivan tilted his head slightly.

"Perhaps…" Ivan mused quietly. "Did you know, Gilbert? I know every inch of Toris' territory." Gilbert's eyebrow twitched. "From top to bottom, boarder to sea, and where all the bones are buried. I know the scars you can see, and the ones you can't."

"Y-yeah… Now you're really creepy." Gilbert muttered. No response came. Leaning back against the tree, the Prussian stared out into the forest too. "So, if you know all his territory, why can't you find him?" He asked curiously. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ivan's back stiffen. Oh, shit! "I-I mean, that is, he's a slippery son of a bitch, huh?" He tensed when Ivan's head finally turned towards him. The corners of the Russian's lips were twisted into a smile. He shifted to face the Prussian, leaning forward.

"Well, that's a problem isn't it?" Ivan said with a raise of his eyebrow. He reached out and Gilbert flinched, closing his eyes. When something touched his cheek he opened them curiously. Ivan's gloved hand was cupping his cheek. "Maybe I haven't discovered every nook and cranny," Ivan mused, thumb sliding along under Gilbert's lower lip. "Maybe I have yet to penetrate every deep, dark little hole…" The gloved thumb slid right past Gilbert's lips, brushing up against his teeth and gums.

"The fuck—!" Gilbert scooted back to quickly that he fell over backwards. Scrambling to sit upright again, he heard Ivan laughing. The Prussian tried to spit out the taste of mud and leather, but to no avail. Well shit, there went the pleasant taste of vodka. Gilbert wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, trembling when he couldn't get the feel of that violation out of there. "I am not your substitute fuck toy, alright?" He growled. Ivan only smiled.

"You'd better hope we find him tomorrow then, my little rabbit." Ugh, he really wished Ivan would stop calling him that.

"Whatever." Gilbert growled, picking up his blanket and walking off. So much for company! Sinking back down to the ground with a huff of breath, he put his back up against a tree. Covering himself with the thin wool blanket, he glared at the Russian. Ivan's eyes were on the woods beyond them again. As much as Gilbert blustered, he was shaken by that simple little show of power. If Ivan wanted to, he could have had him right there, and nothing Gilbert would have done could have stopped him. He licked his teeth over and over, but he couldn't make the feeling go away. You're a hell of a lot stronger than I thought, Toris. He thought to himself. It would be some time before Gilbert closed his eyes, falling into a light and exhausted sleep.

He woke to the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, shaking him none to gently. Eyes snapping open, he slapped the hand away. The soldier with the split lip was waving his hand, saying something to him quickly. Glaring, Gilbert waved him off. "Yeah yeah, I don't speak your fucking language Russisch." He muttered as he stood up, stretching his arms above his head as he stretched his back. With a loud yawn, he glanced around. Ivan was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck!" He shouted, drawing alarmed stares from the other men. Squatting down, Gilbert shoved everything to his pack as quickly as he could. Drawing the string closed at the top, he swung it over his shoulder as he stood again. Walking up to the man who'd woken him, he frowned. "Ivan." He said simply. The soldier pointed, and Gilbert's eyes follow the line of sight.

Ivan was there, about twenty paces away, kneeling by a tree. Frowning, Gilbert approached him from behind. When he came close enough he could see the Russian starring at the bark, gloved fingers tracing it. "What do you make of this, Gilbert?" Ivan asked without turning around. Gilbert frowned, leaning down to squint at the tree. There were marks there, faint and old. As if the bark had been worn away.

"I don't know. An animal maybe? Like a deer, or a…" He stopped when Ivan chuckled.

"This is why you're a rabbit, Gilbert, and not a predator. I can smell him." Ivan was smiling, and Gilbert shuddered.

"You think it's some kind of sign? It's old. Even if it was a sign…" He stopped as Ivan stood up, hand going for his gun. "A-aah, but then it could be a sign! Ahaha—!" He was silenced by Ivan's hand, holding it up swiftly. Gilbert frowned. He heard it then, faintly. A rustling. His eyes moved to the horizon, frowning. Everything was brown and yellow, and nothing… The sound of a dog's bark startled them both. He saw it then, almost out of sight. A small brown mutt, barking loudly at them. "It's just a…" Ivan's hand flicked his brown coat out of the way, seizing his gun. Drawing it quick as lightening, he aimed it at the dog. "Don't!" Gilbert shouted, grabbing the end of the gun.

Bang! The barking stopped, the dog taking off into the woods. Just as Gilbert went to sigh in relief, there was a blinding pain from the right side of his face. "Fuck!" He fell to the side, grabbing on to a tree for balance. Raising his hand to his lip, he pulled his fingers away to see blood. "What the fuck was that—!" He stopped as Ivan took a step towards him, grabbing him up by his collar. "Hck!" Both hands went to that thick wrist as his feet left the ground, toes barely scraping. Ivan's eyes were shadowed by his bangs, but his eyes were hard underneath them.

"That," Ivan said, his light tone not fitting his countenance at all. "Was a dog. Didn't you hear it barking? Yap, yap, yap-yap!" Gilbert coughed, gasping for breath.

"I-I don't…!" He tried. Ivan wasn't finished, and he gave the Prussian a shake.

"It was a warning!" Ivan hissed. "Now they know that we're close! I wanted to kill it before it carried the message, but you… You ruined our chance of surprise!" He dropped the smaller nation, who hit the ground with a thud. Gilbert turned onto his knees, bending over as he held his throat coughing. Blood dripped from his split lip, and he spit it out of his mouth. The corner of his lips, as well as the inside of his cheek were cut. He'd been hit with the gun, he concluded. "Get up." Ivan's boot nudged his shoulder, shoving him onto his back. "We've got a lot of ground to cover. We'll start in the direction that the dog left." He stated coolly, turning his back. Gilbert sat up, spitting blood again and wiping his mouth with his hand.

Hours. It had been hours since they had started walking. Gilbert's lip had swollen, and it throbbed and stung. The other men didn't bother to look at him, each of them knowing that a much worse fate awaited them if they couldn't find Ivan's prey. They'd spread out, each of them barely within each other's line of sight. Gilbert glanced around to find Ivan, catching sight of him up ahead and to his right. Oh how he hated the Russian right now. Dragging them out on this pointless search for his little lapdog. Honestly he'd been surprised when he heard that Toris was missing.

It took guts, he'd give him that. For years now his people had been suffering mass deportations, being killed while resisting the Soviet occupation, and false imprisonment. He'd seen the Lithuanian some days. Toris' face would be pale, and he'd be gripping his chest as he doubled over in pain. Sometimes he would cough up blood, from his ulcer Gilbert figured. He'd thought him weak at that time. After everything that had been done to Gilbert, to his people, he was still standing. Sure he had a few new scars, and nightmares bad enough to make any normal man wet his pants, but he was alive and kicking.

He hadn't wanted to come. If Toris had run away then so be it. One less miserable person in Ivan's household. But Ivan… Ivan changed the moment that Toris was out of his reach. The Russian was always creepy, and a downright asshole some days. He'd screw with everyone in the house in one day. He'd tease Raivis until he cried, corner Eduard and interrogate him until he slipped up; he even bothered his older sister! For what, Gilbert didn't know, but she always seemed so sad any time he saw her. Gilbert, Ivan would outright punch if he said the wrong thing—which happened quite a lot. But Toris…

Toris was the favorite. That meant that he got it all. On a good day he would be cheerful, running about the house on this or that task. He did most of the cooking, he enjoyed to. He liked to keep things clean, and get his own paperwork done early. And of course, there was doting on Ivan. The Russian never had a cold cup of tea, and his plate was never empty of jam and crackers. Ivan was gentler with Toris. He would smile more, touch his hair, even lean down to murmur something into his ear which would make the Lithuanian's face turn red.

Gilbert hated it. His onetime biggest rival had been reduced to…this. But Gilbert wasn't an idiot. He'd seen them. Walked into the bathroom without knocking—and well hey, it was unlocked! Toris happened to have his back to the door, and just before he'd turned around and covered himself—Gilbert had seen them. Of course, amidst the Lithuanian screaming and throwing a towel rack at him, he didn't get to ask. He didn't have to. It was later in the day that he'd seen it. Maybe he'd always done it, but he was just now noticing. Ivan liked to come up behind the Baltic, take one finger, and run it along an invisible line on Toris' back. And Toris would arch and shudder, giving the sweetest little gasp from those pink lips. It wasn't one of fear, or even shock. It made Gilbert feel sick.

On a bad day, Toris would smile. He'd smile so cheerfully that his cheeks had to be sore from it. He didn't cuss or sulk like Gilbert did, he fucking smiled. Gilbert found it once, the make-up. He'd handed it back to Toris without a remark, and the Lithuanian had clutched it to his chest—and smiled. Even though the bruise on his neck was still healing, showing through—and Gilbert didn't want to know if it was a good one or a bad one. He really didn't.

Lost in thought, Gilbert didn't see the obstacle in his way. The tip of his boot caught it, and he gave a curse as he fall face-first onto the forest floor. Several shouts went up at once, and even though he called out that he was alright, Ivan had started heading for him. Gilbert glanced back at what he'd tripped on, spotting the log. Oh—but there was something under it. Red eyes widened as his blood ran cold, like ice-water thrown onto his fire. "I'm alright!" He shouted, standing up and brushing off. "Fucking log, I tripped!" He called to Ivan, who stopped walking. He was still a ways away, but Gilbert swore he could see that glare from where he was. Once Ivan turned his back, Gilbert took another glance back, praying that he was wrong.

The small, black end of a pipe. Oh, God. Why? Why me? It was a vent. A bunker was close. Heart hammering in his chest, he forgot all about the pain of his split lip and cheek. He looked around the area, trying to spot anything and everything that was out of place. There were quite a few logs about the area—smart, he added to himself. Slowly, he started to walk. Leaves crunched under his feet, and he felt as if his footsteps were so loud that the Russian would hear them, even though he couldn't even see Ivan anymore. Crunch, swish-crunch, thunk. "Oh Jesus." He winced. Be empty. Please be empty. Gilbert knelt down, feeling out the hatch. There was a little rope on one side, and he pulled it. The hole which greeted him was like a dark mouth into Hell.

Swallowing, he grabbed his flashlight. Clicking it on, the entrance was bathed in a stream of light. The wooden ladder was fresh, scraped with a little mud. Taking a deep breath, he turned to step down into it. Pulling the hatch closed on top of him, he descended twelve steps, leaving the ground about five feet over his head. He heard a sound to the right just as he turned his flashlight in that direction. A heavy body blitzed him, and the flashlight fell to the dirt floor as he cried out, both bodies hitting the wall behind him. "Damn it!" He cursed. He'd been careless. However the body tensed, pulling back.

"Gilbert?" A familiar voice asked. Oh, fuck. Gilbert opened his eyes, wishing he was wrong. The flashlight had landed flat on the floor, its bent side up, lighting them from underneath.

"Toris." He stated at the Lithuanian standing in front of him, rifle held tightly. There was the sound of footsteps behind the brunette, and Toris turned to hold up his hand.

"Ne, ne! Nešaudykite—don't shoot!" He told the men. Turning back, his expression changed. It became panicked. Gilbert hadn't seen such an expression in a long, long time. "I…Ivan?"

"Up there somewhere. He's searching this area like crazy! I tripped over a log and saw the vent." Gilbert sighed. "The game is over, Toris." The Prussian reached up to rub the back of his head where it had been hit. Toris glared, gripping the rifle tightly.

"This isn't a game!" He protested. Gilbert sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

"To Ivan it is. I've spent the last four days with him in this God forsaken forest you know! I should hand your ass to him on a fucking platter!" Gilbert shouted, and Toris held up his hand.

"No no, please! Don't shout. Please, Gilbert."

"You brought this on yourself, Toris. The fuck were you thinking! All of these men here are going to die because of you!" He waved his hand out behind the Lithuanian. Toris bit his lower lip, and oh don't do that please. Gilbert winced, turning to the side and kicking the wall.

"You know what I was thinking, Gilbert. I needed to help them. My people, my… children." Green eyes glanced back behind him at the shadows that Gilbert couldn't even make out. Toris looked back, swallowing. "…Stay with me, Gilbert." He said suddenly. Gilbert glared; red eyes narrow in the dim light.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking? You he'd let off with a fucking spanking, I'd get the gulags for five fucking years—after he shoved his pipe right up my ass!" Fingers pressed over his lips this time, and Toris' body was suddenly closer. Gilbert reacted on instinct, one arm slipping around that slightly more slender waist. He jerked the Lithuanian in close, lips hovering. "Make it worth my while." Toris held his hand out behind him, patting downwards for his men to remain calm. Green eyes were narrow with resolve.

"If that's what it takes." He said without a waver in his voice. Gilbert kissed him. Hard. Truthfully, it hurt the Prussian more than Toris. His lip was killing him, but Toris' tongue was meeting his own, sharing that taste of blood. He nipped Toris' full lower lip, pulling back for breath. That felt better than I thought it would. He thought to himself. Toris licked his own lips swiftly.

"So, will you—" They paused at the quiet thump from above, breaking apart from their impromptu embrace. The hatch opened—more like flew off of its weak hinges, and Toris gave a shout of surprise. Gilbert winced, damning God for about the hundredth time since he'd stepped foot into this forest. He didn't even look up, but Toris did. He watched the color drain from his rival's face, watched the rifle drop to the ground.

"Game over." Gilbert whispered.

Those violet eyes staring down were a miasma, penetrating the very air with such a thick aura of anger that Toris felt the blood leaving his face. He barely heard his gun hit the ground. Gilbert whispered something, but he didn't hear the words. All that he could hear was the sound of his own heart hammering in his ears, his blood rushing in his veins. There was nothing he could do—nowhere he could run. He tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat made that impossible. It felt like an hour, but it was in reality only a few second before Ivan's voice came down to him.

"I found you, my little fox." That smile was thin as a razor, and twice as sharp. Ivan extended a hand. "Why don't you come up here for a while? You look like you could use some sun." His voice was so light, cheery. Toris was trembling. He wasn't afraid. No, not of Ivan. The voices behind him were chattering, and he was terrified. Six, there were six of them. Six lives, six children. "Toris." Ivan implored. Slowly, Toris grabbed the first rung of the ladder.


"Ne, Lietuva!"

Toris winced, glancing over to the dark hall. He shook his head a little, looking back up to climb the ladder. The second he was within reach, Ivan's hand fisted into the back of his hair. He cried out as he was encouraged to climb faster, pulled to his knees once he was out. The air was colder out here than underground, and he shivered. His green uniform was faded and dirty, and he had no coat for this chilly fall weather. He was pushed back down so that his head was near the opening of the structure. "Tell them to come up, or I'm going to start a fire right here in the entrance." Toris' eyes widened.

"C…Come up! No weapons!" He called down in Lithuanian. He was pulled back then, shoved aside as if he'd outlived his use. Gilbert came up first, stepping quickly over to the Russian soldiers. He didn't look at Toris, who was sitting on his knees next to Ivan, about ten steps from the entrance and looking shell shocked. The Russian stood with arms crossed, watching the men come up one by one. Toris counted them all; he knew each of their names, ages, where they had grown up… He'd lost so many children already…

"Take them out, twenty yards." Ivan spoke in Russian, waving his hand. "Execute them." Toris' eyes went wide, and he was on his feet in an instant.

"No!" He cried, running towards his men. Ivan was faster, reaching out to grab Toris by the wrist. His leg shot out, sweeping Toris' out from under him. Toris hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Ivan's heavy body came down on top of him, his fingers tangling into that long hair as his knee pressed to the small of his back, the Russian's other hand on Toris' shoulder, holding him down. "Aaah… Ivan, please… Please, don't kill them! Don't let them desecrate them…!"

"Why should I do you any favors, my naughty little fox?" Ivan asked with a smile. The men had already tied the hands of the prisoners, and had begun to lead them off.

"I-Ivan, please! I'm begging you Ivan, not my children—no more of them!" Toris' cheek was scraped from the twigs and leaves, but still he struggled to get up.

"They kill my children."

"Ivan," Toris gasped, nearly a sob. "Please…" A ways a way, Gilbert watched the scene unfold with a neutral expression. Ivan tensed, not even breathing for a moment. Finally, he looked up.

"Stop!" He called to his men. "Fifty yards—until you're out of sight! Do not kill them." He ordered firmly. Toris ceased to struggle, giving a dry sob of relief. Ivan's eyes shifted to Gilbert. "Go with them." He told the Prussian. Gilbert tensed, glancing down to Toris, and then back up to Ivan. Ivan only smiled. "I want to be alone with Toris." With a heavy sigh, Gilbert did as told. He wasn't even out of sight before Ivan took his knee off of Toris' back. His hips replaced them, and he let go of Toris' hair and shoulder. Toris groaned in relief, as Ivan placed his hands on either side of the brunette's arms. One knee slid in between Toris', and the Lithuanian gave a small whine.

"I-Ivan…" Breath fell over his ear, swaying the mussed hair there.

"You've made me lonely, Toris. I was so lonely without you…" He nuzzled Toris' scraped cheek, getting a small wince in return. "I didn't touch them. I knew you wouldn't like it if I did. So…" His hips came down, pressing firmly against Toris' backside. Toris gasped to feel the hardness press into him, and that was not Ivan's gun. "Ne, you owe me right? But Toris… I do not think the gulags will be kinder than a quick death…"

"Th-that's… their choice." Toris tried to shift under that heavy weight, but Ivan didn't budge. He only hissed when it caused friction to the bulge in his pants. Toris gave a small gasp when teeth found his earlobe, biting gently. Ivan's breath was heavier now, hotter. "…" He closed his eyes. "…Do it." He said firmly. Ivan gave a small chuckle, sitting back.

"Then lift your hips for me, moya malenkaya dorogaya suka." Ivan said cheerily as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a tube. Toris winced at that choice of words, not nice and not cruel. This was less than he'd expected, but it didn't make Toris any happier. He'd run away not just from his superior nation… but his lover. Naturally, Ivan wanted to reinstate his claim, and he wasn't willing to wait. Toris lifted his hips for Ivan to reach under him, biting his lower lip as he felt his belt and pants undone. He gave a shuddering breath as cool air met his skin, pants pulled down to his knees, and then under them. He didn't look back as he heard Ivan's belt unbuckling, the cap of the tube hitting the leaves.

It hurt.

Ivan didn't hold back. Toris' fingers crushed leaves, dug into the dirt until his nails were full of it. His gasping breath rustled the leaves nearest his face as every thrust jolted his smaller body. Ivan's heavy breath was on the back of his neck, hot and humid. Toris was sweating, even in this cold weather. Pants about his ankles, his knees were soon sore from the dirt and twigs. "Ah… a-ahh…!" He groaned. Sometimes it was in pain, sometimes not. Ivan's dutiful hand under him kept it from being nothing but pain.

But it was there. Every sharp stab of pain forced a gasp, and every good stroke got a high whine or moan. This was punishment.

It was a kindness. A bit of rough sex from your jilted lover was nothing compared to the favor Ivan had done him for not killing his people. And nothing, not even guilt, could stop him from gasping his lover's name. "Ivan…!"

"Eto moy… Eto moy…!" Ivan would reply.

"Aaah…!" Toris gave a cry when he was bitten through his shirt, on his shoulder. He grit his teeth and bared with it, simply riding it out. It could be worse. It could be so much worse.

Gilbert sat with his back against a tree, his nails digging in to his own palms. He hadn't gone far before he'd stopped, slipping behind a tree big enough to give him cover. He closed his eyes and listened to Toris' pained gasps and groans, and Ivan's audible, heavy breaths. Mindless of the bump on the back of his head and the split and swollen lip, he pressed back into the tree, and bit that very lip.

So, the game was over. Things were going to back to normal in the Braginsky household. He wished he couldn't hear any pleasure in Toris' voice now and then—wished it could all be pain. Gilbert wished that Toris hadn't been forgiven—that Ivan might break things off. He wished so much that was selfish and unkind. But it wasn't out of spite.

It was out of jealousy.



*The Forest Brothers were famous for hiding out in underground bunkers, thus making it extremely hard to find them in the forests they knew so well.

**It was said that the partisans trained dogs to back differently when they saw Red Soldiers.

***Desecration of bodies was common when the Red Army killed them. They would drag them through town as a warning.

****Moya malenkaya dorogaya suka. I... I'm sorry but I won't translate that. But it's not very nice. If you're veerry curious google will tell you. x: