Post by Germany on Dec 15, 2010 3:16:30 GMT -5
AN: Short, action-filled post! Toris, I gave you something to play with while you're waiting for Ivan and I to finish this little fight, which will *definitely* be over by my next post ( Ivan and I already worked it out ).
“ Нет!”
Somehow Ivan had managed to get his knees under Ludwig’s stomach. The German was wholly unprepared for the sudden pain in his gut, and the weightless sensation that followed. He landed staggering on his feet a few paces away, doubling over and fighting to regain his balance under the immense hurt. One foot caught on something — he couldn’t see what — and down he went on his still-stinging ass.
This NOT what I wanted! Ludwig thought fiercely, forcing himself to draw in deep, rapid breaths to keep the blood circulating. You weren’t supposed to fight back THAT roughly! His chest still burned from smashing into Ivan’s earlier and now he had a throbbing stomach to add to his list of complaints, but he was the fierce and powerful Germany, damnit: it would take more than a little pain to take him out of the game.
But this game was not heading down the path he wanted to take. Ivan wasn’t cooperating, wasn’t playing by his rules. Either his sadistic violet-eyed boyfriend was starting to lose interest in him as a lover and keen to return to fighting, or he simply could not get it through his head that he was not the dominant partner in this relationship.
Smarting with pain that was only just beginning to lessen, he looked up into that handsome boyish face, saw the red mark where his handcuffs had hit. Ivan was breathing heavily, exhausted from his struggle. He looked so damned delicious right then, so sweaty, and masculine, and…god, Ludwig wanted to take him right there.
“ Нет, Ludya.”
“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!” Ludwig declared vehemently, springing to his feet military-style as Ivan turned and started for the handcuffs.
“On your knees, German prisoner. You obviously don’t understand your place yet.”
That voice. So soft. So sexy.
“Nein! More like you don’t understand yours,” Ludwig said defiantly, his voice heated with passion. Suppressing his pain, he flew at the larger nation again before he had time to react, all of his attention on the dangerous, biting whip. The instant he was within range his right hand shot out and grabbed the base of the whip, right where it met Ivan’s hand. His left closed around the Russian’s hand and pried viciously at his fingers, trying to loosen their hold. He gave the whip a couple of violent yanks in almost every direction, trying desperately to free it from Ivan’s grasp. “I’m no one’s prisoner, Vanya,” he said animatedly, his eyes a wild blue storm when they met Russia’s, his expression that of a hungry predator discontent to struggle with its prey, “I love you, but I am not taking that role. I don’t mind it a little rough, but you are going to have to submit to me at some point.” He continued to struggle with Ivan, trying to push him down to the ground, and in his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of Toris — sweet, injured little Toris — still laying in a pool of blood. He had no time to assess whether or not the brunette was still conscious, but he couldn’t resist calling out to him anyway. “Toris! You know I’m right. Help me convince Ivan that this is the way it has to be.”
Hopefully his servant could still be of some use, even in his present condition.
Things had certainly taken a turn for the worst, but Ludwig wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. If only he could pin his lover to the floor and hold him there — perhaps hogtie him with his own whip — then Russia would be forced to recognize his power over him. Perhaps then he would submit.
_____________________________________________
“ Нет!”
Somehow Ivan had managed to get his knees under Ludwig’s stomach. The German was wholly unprepared for the sudden pain in his gut, and the weightless sensation that followed. He landed staggering on his feet a few paces away, doubling over and fighting to regain his balance under the immense hurt. One foot caught on something — he couldn’t see what — and down he went on his still-stinging ass.
This NOT what I wanted! Ludwig thought fiercely, forcing himself to draw in deep, rapid breaths to keep the blood circulating. You weren’t supposed to fight back THAT roughly! His chest still burned from smashing into Ivan’s earlier and now he had a throbbing stomach to add to his list of complaints, but he was the fierce and powerful Germany, damnit: it would take more than a little pain to take him out of the game.
But this game was not heading down the path he wanted to take. Ivan wasn’t cooperating, wasn’t playing by his rules. Either his sadistic violet-eyed boyfriend was starting to lose interest in him as a lover and keen to return to fighting, or he simply could not get it through his head that he was not the dominant partner in this relationship.
Smarting with pain that was only just beginning to lessen, he looked up into that handsome boyish face, saw the red mark where his handcuffs had hit. Ivan was breathing heavily, exhausted from his struggle. He looked so damned delicious right then, so sweaty, and masculine, and…god, Ludwig wanted to take him right there.
“ Нет, Ludya.”
“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!” Ludwig declared vehemently, springing to his feet military-style as Ivan turned and started for the handcuffs.
“On your knees, German prisoner. You obviously don’t understand your place yet.”
That voice. So soft. So sexy.
“Nein! More like you don’t understand yours,” Ludwig said defiantly, his voice heated with passion. Suppressing his pain, he flew at the larger nation again before he had time to react, all of his attention on the dangerous, biting whip. The instant he was within range his right hand shot out and grabbed the base of the whip, right where it met Ivan’s hand. His left closed around the Russian’s hand and pried viciously at his fingers, trying to loosen their hold. He gave the whip a couple of violent yanks in almost every direction, trying desperately to free it from Ivan’s grasp. “I’m no one’s prisoner, Vanya,” he said animatedly, his eyes a wild blue storm when they met Russia’s, his expression that of a hungry predator discontent to struggle with its prey, “I love you, but I am not taking that role. I don’t mind it a little rough, but you are going to have to submit to me at some point.” He continued to struggle with Ivan, trying to push him down to the ground, and in his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of Toris — sweet, injured little Toris — still laying in a pool of blood. He had no time to assess whether or not the brunette was still conscious, but he couldn’t resist calling out to him anyway. “Toris! You know I’m right. Help me convince Ivan that this is the way it has to be.”
Hopefully his servant could still be of some use, even in his present condition.
Things had certainly taken a turn for the worst, but Ludwig wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. If only he could pin his lover to the floor and hold him there — perhaps hogtie him with his own whip — then Russia would be forced to recognize his power over him. Perhaps then he would submit.