The image I currently have in my mind: Ivan coming back from a particularly stressful day. As he opens the door to his bedroom, he sees that Gil is already on his bed already in cuffs, collar, and harness (he would be more tied up, but he did this on his own.) Then Gil gives Ivan that look that tells him that he is willingly at his mercy.
I really prefer Ivan as a calm, almost soft spoken kind of dom. No raised voices, just the calm assurance that he has all the power and everyone will bend to his will.
One of the appealing things about this ship is how they can be so different in public and private. In public they are a power couple, and Gil does everything in his power to support Ivan’s ambitions. In private, all the cuffs and chains come out and Ivan is strictly “Master.”
There was unrest and anger in the streets, and Prussia could not deny any of it. All the government’s assurances that this would be nothing more than passing strikes were ringing more and more hollow.
After the strikes and protests had begun to grow, Prussia felt a growing discomfort with himself. He had promised Russia that he would be loyal, and that he would never waver in his support of their cause. But, as he looked out of the window and saw the rabid unrest, he was torn.
His people didn’t want to maintain this regime. He couldn’t decide how he should act on it. There was an urge in the back of his mind, stronger than it had been in so many years, to encourage this.
His mind floated, unbidden, over the border. His brother would hear about the unrest soon, and surely he would encourage it. Maybe, that small but vocal part of his mind urged him, if this unrest could last long enough, then West Germany could act on it. Maybe, if circumstances were right, he would be able to see his little brother again.
He pushed that thought away. He had sworn himself to the Soviet Union, and a soldier should never abandon his posts. For the first time in years, he felt a deep longing to see West Germany again. But, to take a step out of line was a risk.
His mind turned to another piece of information that he had learned only a few days ago: Stalin had died. With the unyielding might of his leader gone, how much longer could the Soviet Union hope to hold onto power?
In a moment like this, Russia would need his support more than ever. But, the part of his heart that yearned for his brother told him otherwise. This was one of the few moments where he could possibly escape the imposed order of the allies.
He turned from the window and tried to center himself on what was important. His word had to mean something, and he should give the order to suppress the dissent. It could not hurt, he thought, to walk the streets and assess the scale of the protests. It would not be disloyalty, just curiosity.
He was still weighing his options as he removed his military coat and pulled on civilian clothing. It was a good enough way for him to walk through the crowd without drawing eyes. Prussia still wasn’t certain what his goal was as he walked out of his front door into the growing crowds.
In order to remain loyal to Russia, he would not join in. But he could not shake the feeling that he could return to some of the normalcy he had with his little brother. As he walked, it was possible for him to see how rampant the unrest was. There were mobs on every street corner, shouting about escaping the grasp of Stalinism.
Prussia felt an odd detachment. He hadn’t made this decision because he supported Stalin; he had made it for Russia. His feet, apparently without his consent, carried him towards the border and closer to the heart of the protests. Maybe they were deciding, without his conscious thought, that it would be better to find his way towards West Germany.
He looked around at the signs and the faces of angry people. There were slogans in the air. Prussia could not decide whether he had agreed with this, or felt like it should be repressed before word reached Moscow.
There was a stir in the crowd, and a sound of distress. Prussia felt a chill go down the back of his neck. He knew that whisper of concern that went through the crowd. He had repressed enough protests to know what that was.
One thought made him cold all over: He hadn’t ordered this. If he had not done it, then only one person had the authority to.
As the thought occurred to him and panic started to spread in the crowd, a single hand slipped over his mouth. At the same time, he felt a stinging in his neck, like a pin prick.
He knew who the gloved hand belonged to, and who had just injected him with a sedative. The voice that came in his ear only confirmed it, “Shh, don’t fight this. Be a good boy, Gilbert, and come quietly.”
Prussia felt cold weakness spreading from the injection, but he had no desire to fight. Russia’s arms felt good, like they were holding him where he was supposed to be and not letting him give in to his worse instincts.
He lost feeling in his limbs as his body gave out. But, Russia swept him up into his arms. As his eyes fluttered shut, he could swear that he could hear gun fire. Prussia lost consciousness with his head against Russia’s shoulder.
Prussia slowly woke. The first thing he was aware of was the feeling of metal against his wrists. He was seated and his hands were bound behind him. He knew it was the lightest treatment he could expect for what he had done. Betrayal was a particularly sensitive spot for Russia.
The last thing he wanted to do was open his eyes and see Russia looking at him. He knew what this was. It was punishment for disloyalty. He had meant no disloyalty, not consciously. He knew that meeting Russia’s eyes would mean admitting to his discipline wavering.
But, it could not be avoided and impatience would make Russia no kinder. He opened his eyes, and slowly taking in the scene in front of him. He could see Russia’s boots and he slowly raised his head. The movement alerted Russia to the fact that he was awake.
Russia’s voice came out low and dangerously quiet, “I had hoped we would never be in this position again.”
The look in his eyes was one of cool disappointment. If Prussia did not know him so well, he would have thought that Russia was completely unaffected. But, he could hear the undertone of pain in his voice. That sent a pang of guilt straight through his chest.
He had hurt the person he had pledged himself to.
Why couldn’t he have just given the order and done as he should?
He tried to bring these thoughts to his lips. He said, his voice shaking, “Vanya, I’m-“
Russia cut him off swiftly, “I do not want to hear you justify this.”
His eyes were sharp, and Prussia felt the urge to shrink under the glare. But, he straightened his back and said, more biting, “I’m not going to. I-“ His voice broke and he had to start again, “I am sorry, Vanya. I made a mistake.”
He half expected this to bring more anger from Russia. But, the other man paused and his eyes softened. Prussia sighed, relieved that he could see that Russia was at least open to believing him.
Russia said, still keeping his responses short, like he was restraining himself from saying more, “Explain then.”
Prussia wished he had a simple response, but he did not know his own reason for it. He said only what he could bring to mind, “I was going to end this. But, I was tempted.”
It sounded so hollow when he said it, but that had been the reason. Russia stepped closer to him and tilted his head up so that their eyes met. He said, in that voice that sent cold shivers down Prussia’s spine, “Are you going to tell me what tempted you? Or should I tell you?”
Prussia drew in a breath. He could feel Russia’s eyes going through him, seeing all of him. He couldn’t have hid anything, even if he wanted to. And what good would it do to lie? It felt like Russia would know if he did.
Russia continued without an answer, “You were thinking of Ludwig, weren’t you?” Prussia felt overcome with shame as he nodded. Russia tightened his hold on Prussia’s face, but not to the point of pain. It felt firm, like he was asserting his own control. With his strength this was restraint, and Prussia knew it.
He said, “What did you imagine would happen when you went back to him? Did you imagine he would be welcoming?”
Prussia bit his lower lip as he tried to hold back himself. Russia was right. That was what he expected from the boy he had raised. But, as he met Russia’s eyes, his resolve to hold back melted. Russia knew him, and knew what he expected already. He said simply, “Yes.”
The other shook his head slowly. He said, “You should not be so naive. Alfred has taught your little brother to hate communists. He would be arrested the moment you crossed the border.”
He stepped closer and tilted Prussia’s more sharply upward. But, his tone remained quietly dominant, “Make no mistake. You are a communist. You have spent these years at my side.”
He paused and then added, “Willingly. Eagerly.”
Prussia’s mind flooded with images of the past years, and how happily he had spent days with Russia and spent the nights in his bed. It had felt good being so obedient. Following orders like a soldier felt comfortable.
Russia was still continuing in that low self-assured voice, “Or would you deny that? Would you lie and say I forced you to be so loyal?”
The thought hurt, even in theory. Prussia could not relinquish his own honor or pride. If he could not be devoted to one man when he had sworn to be, then he was truly lost. He said, trying to process his own thoughts, “No. I couldn’t do that.”
Russia paused and looked into his eyes searchingly, and then let go of Prussia’s face. He seemed to have realized that their was no fight, no biting back. Prussia was not trying to fight him or defend his own mistake.
He stepped back, and Prussia found himself longing to have that touch again. Russia’s guiding hand felt like certainty, like he could take away all the doubts. Russia said, “I’ll give you a choice, Gilbert.”
He gestured to someone out of sight, and after a moment Prussia felt the cuffs fall off his wrist. He was aware that he was no longer bound, but he knew Russia well enough to know that this was not really freedom. This would be a test, and he was determined not to fail it. Russia needed to know that he was loyal, despite wavering for a moment.
Russia sat in a chair directly facing Prussia. He sat with a certain assertive confidence that was thrilling. He looked powerful without having to say anything. Prussia longed to slide off his chair and into his lover’s lap, but he knew better than that. Given the gravity of the moment, he could not act as he would have on their usual nights together.
Prussia took the bait only enough to ask, “What options are you offering me? You wouldn’t really let me go.”
Russia spoke, his voice still level, “You can leave if you want to see your brother that badly. I will not stop you. Or you can stay here with me and we can continue how we were.”
Prussia stood slowly. He wasn't certain if he believed the offer was real, but his decision was already made. His mind may drift to his brother, but he had his place. His feet carried him to the spot that felt most natural.
He sank to his knees right between Russia’s legs in front of the chair, then rested his head against Russia’s leg. This was a submissive position, and he intended it to be. The only way to prove that he was really regretful. He said, looking up at the satisfied smile on Russia’s face, “I choose you. I always will.”
It had be enough. The look in Russia’s eyes sent a jolt down his spine. It was so self-assured, so cool and dominant. All the doubt and pain Prussia had seen before was gone.
His hand lighted softly on Prussia’s face. The touch was loving, but certain. Russia said, “Good boy.” The words sent another shiver across Prussia’s skin. It felt like affirmation that this was where he should be.
He kept his eyes on Russia as he said, “You can do whatever you want to punish me. I broke my word. I deserve it.”
The gloved hand on his face trailed down the side of his face. Russia thumb ran over his lower lip. He spoke quietly, but firmly, “I was thinking about how best to punish you for you little insurrection.”
His hand continued down to Prussia’s neck, which was completely bare and vulnerable. Russia continued, “How best to remind you that your place is here at my feet?”
Chills raced across the albino’s skin. He was certain that goosebumps erupted across his bare skin. His eyes fluttered closed as he submitted to whatever Russia wanted to do with him. He said, his voice coming out low and husky, “I’m at your mercy, master.” The title slipped off his tongue so naturally, so well-practiced.
The hand on his throat tightened slightly, enough that it felt like ownership. Russia’s voice continued, “There are so many options.”
There was a moment of silence while Prussia drew is heavy breaths. He could imagine all the things Russia might do, and the anticipation made heat rise across his cheeks.
Russia said, his tone finally shifting, “But you understood on your own, my little rabbit. You know this is right. So, I don’t have to punish you.”
Prussia’s eyes opened. His mind was racing, because he craved the punishment, but this was also a profound sign of trust. Russia still trusted him despite this slip. But, he still wanted to protest that it was not enough.
He said, trying to express it without sounded insolent, “No, please, Vanya, I-“ Russia cut him off with a chuckle, “You want me to punish you? You’re such a masochist.” Prussia gathered his thoughts and said, “I want to prove myself to you.”
The smile on Russia’s face was amused, but he responded, “I do have something for you, and it would be a pity for it to go to waste. Close your eyes.”
The tone of his command was impossible to deny. Prussia closed his eyes immediately. He waited for bated breath for Russia to give him some punishment.
He heard a rustle as Russia removed something from from his pocket. Then he felt it around his neck. The close feeling of leather was comforting. Russia said, “I knew you would look beautiful in a collar. Look at me.”
Prussia obediently opened his eyes. He couldn’t see the collar around his neck, but it was enough to feel it, like a tangible symbol of Russia’s control over him.
The other hooked one finger into the ring on the front of the collar. He said, “Come here, rabbit.”
Prussia rose to his feet. Russia used his hold on the collar to pull the albino’s face towards his own. It wasn’t painful, only firm. Prussia took the last inch of initiative on his own. This was his chance to prove how much he loved his master.
As their lips made contact, he felt himself melting. The feeling of submission was intoxicating. He would gladly give everything for Russia in this moment. He felt one hand easing him to sit on Russia’s lap. His body obeyed the man’s lightest touches easily.
It was simple to arch his back as Russia undid his shirt and ran over his chest. He moaned against Russia’s lips, which were still firmly pressed against his own.
A particularly deft light touch across the waistband of his pants sent the kind of pure pleasure that made his mind go blank for a moment. There was nothing but Russia and his authoritative touches.
Russia pulled out of the kiss and said, “You can prove yourself to me by helping me deal with the mess here.” He planted a kiss on Prussia’s jawline. The albino threw his head back, allowing Russia even more access to the skin. He wanted orders; he wanted it to be that simple. More than anything, he wanted Russia to strip him down and devour him.
Russia continued talking between passionate kisses, “Then you will help me get the others back in line.” His free hand was now holding firmly onto Prussia’s hip.
Prussia met his lover’s eyes again and said, “Gladly.” He felt a smirk curl up the corners of his lips. This was precisely where he wanted to be: Wrapped up in Russia’s arms, sharing in his power. How could he have ever thought of straying?
Russia pulled gently on the collar, bringing their faces even closer together. He said, “One more thing: I want you in my bed every night.” He gave one more gentle tug on the collar and added, “And I want to be able to do anything I want with you.”
Prussia might feel more trepidation at the statement if he didn’t already know what that meant, and he would enjoy all of it. The pain, the pleasure, the constriction.
He said, brushing back a piece of Russia’s hair, “I agree, Vanya. I’ll do anything for you.”
A sweet smile broke through Russia’s usual dominant manner, and he said, “I’m very glad you chose me. I do not want to lose you.”
Prussia felt the earnest affection in the other’s voice, and found himself reaching to cradle Russia’s before he even thought about it. He could see that what was between them went so much deeper than dominance. He said, “I’m not leaving, Vanya. I love you.”
Part of me wants to write all sorts of dark, sensual, kinky things with these two, and the other part of me wants to write them as the power couple they deserve to be.
Part of me wants to write all sorts of dark, sensual, kinky things with these two, and the other part of me wants to write them as the power couple they deserve to be.
A/N: Here’s part three of three of my PruAus series. This one was written about a year ago, but I would say that it is the one that most closely relates to my current headcanons about Prussia’s relationship with his brother, Russia, and Fritz. The previous two stories are here and here.
The night was pleasant, but all the window coverings were pulled shut to hide the light. If the bombers could see the light, they would likely aim for it. There had been relatively little damage done to Berlin by bombings so far. But, even with heavy bombing of British airfields, there was reason for fear. This, being the center of operations was of the highest importance. There was no question that it must be protected.
