DOTR: Last chapter, everyone. Thanks so much for liking it. Never thought this oneshot would continue but thanks to the love it became what it has. Auf Wiedersehen!

The number of how many times Alfred tried to kill himself was lost from the constant rise of the attempt. Now, however, the American pursued the means to end their marriage another way.

Ivan's frown was the same for this one as it had been the others. This parchment wasn't spared from his upset when he tore it in two, just like the others.

Alfred's reaction to the torn papers was the same. He simply sat there, quietly watching his husband crumble the parchment—and if he was in a particularly foul mood he'd burn them. Alfred closed his eyes and leaned his lips against his hands while his elbows rested on the top of their dining table—he'd barely touched his food and saw it more important to hand the Russian the documents first.

"I'll just get another one," Alfred spoke up, his tone horribly flat and unflattering.

Ivan slammed his fist down onto the table and glared at his American husband who sat across from him—gone were the days when they used to sit side-by-side. "I refuse to sign any damn thing you give me. I will not authorize a divorce!"

"It's what I want."

Ivan sighed. Alfred's been saying that same thing ever since the incident with the American's mistress. It annoyed Ivan to no end and frustrated him beyond words. So they drifted apart. While before Ivan couldn't wait to return home and be with his husband now he opted to stay out late, head off on more trips, and remain in separate rooms than Alfred.

The cold shoulder was what hurt Ivan. Even when he tried to touch Alfred the American would flinch away, or worse, just lay there like a dead fish. He did that multiple times when Ivan tried to make love to him. No matter what he did Alfred somehow resisted reacting to anything and in so Ivan could not get hard.

They'd been married for nine years now and for the past five Alfred's been less than desirable to Ivan. But it wasn't like the Russian could go out and pick some damn skank off the streets just to relieve himself. He was a very picky man and rightly so because it meant he could only get hard for certain people, now it was all Alfred. He was the only one who could get a rise out of him, but lately . . . even he's killed his sexual appetite.

So Ivan was beyond frustrated and with Alfred giving him divorce papers every day he's just about had it. He didn't know what he could do. He didn't want to let Alfred go. He was his husband and he knew if he lawfully let him go the American would likely be taken by someone else—a man like Alfred wasn't single for long.

Ivan Braginsky was always known for being a smart man, but as for dealing with domestic issues . . . when they fell out of his control he just went crazy. So he'd leave to try to deal with the problem on his own.

He's thought of various ways to try to fix his marital problems but nothing helped. Alfred didn't want more expensive gifts. Alfred didn't want to be taken to high class societal events. Alfred didn't want Ivan to touch him.

This was Ivan's last idea and attempt to try to appease his husband.

"I do not like it when you smoke that poison around me," Ivan admitted, his frown evident of his dislike for the vapors filling the room he and an old friend sat in.

The Asian opened his eyes, annoyed that the pleasure from the recent inhale was interrupted by the rude Russian's comment. He pulled the pipe away from his lips and waved it toward the man. "This is my home, I can do whatever I please, Braginsky."

Ivan sighed, attempting to hide the cough from the profuse fumes encasing him. This man, Yao Wang, was an old family friend. He was a good distance older than the Russian, but young enough for their parents to have known each other. If there was anyone Ivan could consider as much as a friend then it would be this man. They'd yet to point guns at the other.

"Why are you here anyway, Braginsky?" Yao questioned, his amber eyes scanning the larger male. He blew out another puff of smoke. "The co-oversee isn't for months. It isn't like we are such good friends that we may visit the other whenever we may."

Ivan chuckled at the thought. What a ridiculous notion.

"I am willing to change that status," Ivan spoke up, his eyes meeting the Asian's. God, did Ivan hate Asians.

A thin black brow rose over Yao's eye. He looked interested, but more so curious. With one last inhale he blew out the fumes and then placed his pipe away, inhaling the exhales of his nostrils.

"How so, Ivan?" Yao leaned back on the couch he was seated on. He was relaxed and smiling. The smokes always left him in a better mood than usual.

"We have known each other for a long time, da?" Ivan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His smiles were fake and his companion knew this. Ivan Braginsky smiled for no one—at least not anymore. "Our fathers treated each other with respect. Not a single incident happened in our strings. We did not get into your business and you did not get into ours." It wasn't until Ivan took over as head that he formed some sort of agreement between his ring and Yao's. It wasn't strong or meant to bind, but it was closer than it had been with their fathers.

There was a pause. The two heads simply sat staring at the other, both offering smiles of respect and inwardly pressing down the urge to fight for dominance. Ivan had his states he ruled and Yao had his own, though they were fewer than the number Ivan had risen since coming to power, Yao was content with owning larger more populated states.

Finally, Ivan spoke again. "I am willing to negotiate terms for a settled peace between our people."

Yao rose his brow again. He nodded slowly. "You mean to form a bond between our syndicates?"

Ivan rolled his shoulders. "The more we speak the deeper the pact can be. Firstly I will assure a promise to never cause harm to your people if you follow suit."

Yao chuckled. "You think we to just sign papers and call it a truce? It does not work like that, Braginsky."

Ivan resisted the urge to frown. "Da, I am not ignorant. This is why I would ask you give me your sister to do with as I please."

Yao chuckled and outstretched his arms. "You can have as many as you want, free of any debt."

Yao's father was notorious for his plethora of mistresses. His most dubious one no doubt was Sakura, a Japanese Geisha who had born him a son who threatened Yao for right of head upon the man's death. Wang was legitimate and so won most's loyalty. He still has to deal with his half-brother, and Ivan has run into him on more than one occasion—he didn't like him either—especially not after he set his eyes on Ivan's American husband.

Kiku Honda was a dangerous yakuza lord that Ivan and Yao agreed should have been smothered upon birth. However, he had been the only other boy besides Yao to have been sired by Mr. Wang and so his life was spared if only for gender favorability. The number of half-sisters Yao had was probably innumerable.

"I request your sister, Chun-Yan," Ivan stated. Immediately he watched a frown distort Yao's previous jesting features. Of course it would, the Chinese girl was Yao's only full-blooded sibling, born quite a large amount of years after him as well. Yao wasn't too keen on her seeing anyone—many a fawning boyfriend had found themselves dead just by touching her wrong. She was a mature woman now, single and likely to stay that way thanks to her overbearing brother—such a shame.

"You request her now when before you rejected her?" Yao questioned. Ah, yes, bring up that weak attempt at an alliance their fathers had suggested. Chun-Yan would no doubt have made a decent wife but Ivan did not care for her—what was the point of having a spouse if one cared nothing for them? So, since Ivan refused to wed her the whole idea was forgotten and never brought up. Ivan should have figured Yao and his family would see it as some sort of dishonor.

"Da." This time, Ivan kept a cool head, which meant he was in control of the conversation. "I will have none of the others. Only Chun-Yan will allow my proposition to work."

Yao still didn't look to happy and more than ready to decline the offer. But Ivan wasn't afraid. He held more territory and was still gaining assets. He would settle for no less than Yao's sister. It was why he came to see him after all.

"She's just turned twenty-five as of . . . last Monday, da? Right now I believe she is having her favorite caramel Frappuccino latte at the Starbucks on the corner of Third. She's with two of her female friends. That's nice, at least you allow her some company besides yourself." Ivan couldn't help but let loose his smirk at the way Yao shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He could see those slanted eyes of his glance toward his guards standing at the doorway with Ivan's, but he didn't call them over to show Ivan he wasn't afraid of all the knowledge he knew on his sister . . . but Yao was afraid, it was written all over his face.

"You have no right to take her if I do not give her," Yao came to remind, to try to show power. "Besides, you are already married."

Ivan would have none of that. "Da, but you should not question my intentions. Rest assured that if I wished to take her as a measly mistress she'd be treated fairly."

Yao's brows furrowed. "How can you expect me to honor anything when you would disrespect my sister like such?"

Ivan smiled that infamous grin of his. "I expect you to honor much. Let us talk deeper into this subject and come to terms soon before Miss Wang returns home." Ivan looked down at his watch to add to effect. "And it looks like she'll be home around 5 as usual." When Ivan smiled back at Yao his grin grew wider at the descending frown on that cocky Asian's face. Just because this wasn't Ivan's territory didn't mean he didn't have eyes there.

The talks went well, at least Ivan thought so. He didn't particularly care for Yao's string and would gladly get into a war with him should issues arise, but for the respect of the Chinese man's sister Ivan would keep his promise to never aim a gun or allow his men to throw a punch. They were granted access to new territory as Yao was to Ivan's, though the Russian doubted Yao would visit his holding too often.

Even if Ivan did walk away with more agreements in his favor there was one that displeased him.

"Chun-Yan will remain here, with me," Yao insisted despite the subtle threats that could easily break previous agreements with violence. "If you wish to see her and be with her then you'll have to travel here." Yao managed one last controlling grin despite his losing situation. "You have the finances, I'm certain it won't be too hard to stop by every once in a while."

Ivan wasn't pleased with leaving the Wang sister there. Though he and Yao agreed on a mutual partnership that did not mean he trusted him. While Yao has never done it before Ivan did not doubt he could attempt to hurt his sister—especially now that she was Braginsky territory.

While it would have been such a laugh to see her come home and have Yao reveal these things to her, Ivan had to return home. He left as soon as he wrapped up loose ends. For the first time in years an excitement built up inside him and it boiled over when he returned home. He actually wanted to see Alfred for once, but all the feeling of positivity was shot down as usual.

"Why do you even bother coming back?"

It was late, much too late for anyone to be up at this hour save for the night guards, yet there Alfred was . . . seated at the bar with a glass full of bourbon in his hand. Ivan could tell he'd been drinking it all night, he could see it in his lidded eyes and slight slurred motions. The American could be one mean drunk.

Ivan frowned at the unpleasing sight of his husband. He once remembered Alfred greeting him with open arms and warm kisses—but Ivan had been told it had all been a charade. What he wouldn't do just to get that fantasy back, even if it was just a fantasy.

"It is late. Go to bed," Ivan commanded. He could use a drink himself, but would not come close to the bar in the entertainment room if Alfred resided near it.

Alfred flinched. He hated being told what to do. He frowned and slammed his glass onto the counter of the bar, slipping out of the stool and standing on his feet. He surprisingly held himself high for one so drowned in booze.

"Have I not made my stance clear?" Alfred's tone was unpleasant. Ivan wrinkled his nose just at the listen of it. "Have I not caused enough mayhem and annoyance to you? What will it take to keep you away?"

Ivan looked at Alfred. They met gazes. "Go to bed, Alfred," Ivan commanded once more. He'd learned how to control his temper much better when dealing with the American like this.

"I don't fucking listen to you," Alfred spat, turning back around and seating himself at the empty bar. "Stay here for all I care. But don't expect me to acknowledge your damn presence."

Ivan expected to find the blond passed out on the bar in the morning. To his surprise the bar was vacant. Ivan had made sure Alfred was still in the perimeters of the house—he hadn't been allowed to leave without a chaperone of some sort after the scandal, and his funds were cut and foundations shut down, if he wanted to buy anything he'd have to go through Ivan and that didn't happen often.

The American was in his room. Ivan made sure he was still breathing by going up to him and touching him. He was still warm, still attractive, and still very much alive. After they grew apart, instead of keeping their marital room they just moved into two other rooms distant of the other. Ivan longed to return to that room with his spouse in his arms, but he wondered if that would just remain a dream of his now.

Ivan sighed, he need some vodka. He wanted to stay longer in his main home with his husband, but Alfred made sure to strain his time spent there. Divorce papers, constant disrespect and disregard for the head of the home. Alfred knew Ivan hated it and he knew it would chase the Russian off.

It did. Ivan packed his things and stayed away for a while. He'd travel to California to visit Yao and his pretty little sister. It was such a shame he was more relaxed there. The Chinese girl pleased him immensely and he graced her with various gifts she was actually thankful for.

Yao was still not too fond of the settlement, especially when Ivan would insist that he and Chun-Yan have their affairs in private. Yao could be sneaky and have a way of watching, but Ivan was just as smart as he and often outwitted him. He did not harm the man's sister and in turn he obliged by their agreement that she remain with Yao upon his departure.

Ivan really wanted to stay with her and the relief she helped provide, but he had to return to see his husband. The spiteful words thrown at him by Alfred were common, but they still hurt, especially when they came from the American. Ivan loved Alfred, and to see him so upset with him—like one who didn't even love him—it infuriated Ivan.

Ivan tried to stay out of Alfred's petty fights. He knew he wanted him riled up. He wanted him screaming at him and raising hands to him. Alfred wanted Ivan to lash out in any way.

So many times Ivan had come close, so very close. One such night he had let Alfred annoy him when he shouldn't have. He exchanged horrible words back, words that Alfred just soaked up and shot back just as evil.

Ivan could take no more. He left. He meant to wait, to let his anger dissipate, but he returned in a haste and it had surprised the American, though Alfred was quick to narrow his eyes and bare his teeth to bite.

"Forgot your fucking wallet or something?" Alfred teased when he noticed the Russian in the hallway upstairs just as he headed up to bed. "Or maybe you've finally come to your senses and decided to sign the damn papers."

Ivan growled. His face was the epitome of frustration. "You will be quiet!" Ivan demanded. This was why he stayed out longer, to let his temper cool, a few days just wasn't enough. "You will not demand anything of me. I am the head of this household, not you! I will NOT sign those papers."

"Why not?" Alfred jutted his chin out. He did this in hopes Ivan would hit him, but he never did, no matter what Alfred did the Russian would not strike his husband. "It'll save you the stress of dealing with me. You once wanted me happy and now when I tell you the only way I can be happy is through a divorce you deny me? Yeah, some big man good on his word!"

"It will not make me happy," Ivan bit back.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "It's always about you, isn't it? 'Oh! He's good looking enough, say, men, grab him and bring him home for dinner so I can fuck his life up!' Never ONCE did you care what I thought about anything. Now I don't care what you say or do, I'm telling you flat out that I'm MISERABLE here. Nothing you can say or do or even give will make me happy. I want out. I don't want to be here."

"You're not allowed to leave," Ivan so demanded.

Alfred sighed, crossing his arms. "You're nothing but a damn control freak. I hate people like you." He turned to leave to his room, but Ivan spoke up.

"You don't understand you will not be safe even if I comply with your senselessness."

Alfred turned around. His frown was just God-awful. "Do you think I care about protection? Hell, before the divorce papers I wanted to put my lights out, land myself six feet under. Threatening me with death will not work, Vanya."

Ivan ground his teeth. His arms remained at his sides, hands clenched into tight fists. "You don't understand." The American never did. "There are things worse than death one can go through." Especially for someone as beautiful as Alfred.

"You mean like living here."

Ivan's fists clenched tighter. Everything else said was strictly through grit teeth. "I have given you a life of luxury. Never once have I mistreated you! Whatever you want I give!"

"Except my freedom," Alfred reminded. Of course he would, as if the papers weren't mentioned enough.

"You cannot be free!" Ivan insisted. "Not with your life so entrenched in my world now."

"Well, whose fault is that, huh?" Alfred was shaking just as much as Ivan—both looked like they wanted nothing more than to connect fists with faces. "You could have prevented this. You want me safe? Then why did you drag me into this, huh?"

"Because I loved you!" Ivan shouted. He still did. He still loved Alfred. "I wouldn't allow anyone else to have you."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. He nodded his head slowly. "You see? You're nothing but a selfish bastard." Ivan could hear the younger's tone lowering. The pitch almost sounded like a whine as Alfred turned around again, rushing toward his bedroom door. "You never once considered how I felt! I never loved you! NEVER!"

It hurt to hear that. Ivan was used to the names, the vile curses, and the weight of Alfred's wedding ring hitting him from an angry toss by the American. Alfred never wore the band anymore. So many things he did that just broke Ivan's heart and the man hated it because he had wanted to marry Alfred because he felt he'd never do such a thing.

His heart was tender, much too tender to handle all of this. So, if his last resort did not work then Ivan really didn't know what he'd do. He simply couldn't live with Alfred like that . . . just couldn't.

Ivan's attention caught at the sight of Alfred suddenly darting out of his room. His eyes were wide, mouth agape and hand still on the doorknob. He looked at Ivan, his lips moving to say something, but his head only whipped around back into his room.

Ivan was cautious. He didn't know how Alfred would react to this, and from his reactions now he still wasn't sure on how it would transform later. So, he stood there, waiting for Alfred to speak.

"What . . . w-what have you done?!" Alfred kept looking into his room and then back at Ivan. "Ivan . . . what . . .?"

Even if the result would be negative, Ivan pulled out a soft smile for his spouse. Coming closer he approached Alfred. He was surprise he hadn't darted away or demand he stay a few feet from him, but Alfred said nothing to Ivan coming to stand next to him, to let his shoulder touch his and to let his hand rise and press gently against his back, guiding the younger back into the room he had claimed as his own and back toward the bed.

"Do you like?" Ivan paid close attention to Alfred and all of his mannerisms and expressions. It almost seemed like before, when they had dated, every present bought for the American was looked for acceptance, just like this last gift.

Alfred's mouth opened. Ivan could tell he was trying to speak, but just as he began shaking his head the American turned to him, worried blue eyes looking up at him through lenses. "God, you're not into kidnapping now, are you?!"

Ivan reached forward and pressed his finger to his spouse's lips. Shaking his head he said, "Nyet." Ivan then pulled away and came closer to the bed himself. He kept his eyes on Alfred and tried to show him not to be afraid, but the American looked pale, looked more than worried on about the gift lain on his bed.

Ivan sighed. He didn't like to touch, partly because he didn't quite know how to handle Alfred's new gift. But he wanted it closer to the American and so he reached into the carrier and picked up the child.

He was a little thing, but at least he didn't make too much of a fuss while Ivan plucked him out of his cushioned carrier he was brought in with and held him in his hands almost awkwardly. The Russian turned and came closer to Alfred who backed up only by one step.

"You like children, da? Take him," Ivan insisted, holding out the little baby.

Alfred was still frozen for a time. He didn't act too quickly, but he was reaching out to take the child into his arms when he noticed Ivan's lack of knowledge in handling them.

"No," Alfred muttered when he reached out and scooped up the child. He cradled him in his arms and held him close to his chest. "That's not how you hold them," he scolded the Russian. His eyes were glued to the child, his tone dying and words left him. "Like this . . . this is how you should hold him."

Ivan grinned. It looked like Alfred very much liked his gift. "He's ours, Alfred."

That golden head whipped to Ivan so quickly the Russian swore he'd break his neck. Alfred stared at Ivan owlishly. "You . . . you adopted?"

Ivan pressed close. His eyes darted down to view the babe. He wanted to wait until the child was a few years older, but after dealing with Alfred like this he just couldn't wait any longer.

"Nyet," the Russian said. "He is biological."

Again, Alfred looked at Ivan like he'd grown a second head. Those blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. When Alfred began bouncing the fussing child he turned himself from Ivan, not wanting to look at him.

"Finally found yourself someone to put up with you?" Alfred was referring to a mistress, Ivan knew this.

With the American turned from him, Ivan reached out and rested his hands on those sharp shoulders. He knew that Alfred wouldn't pull away, not with the child in his arms. So he pressed close again, leaning over Alfred and watching his facial expressions toward the babe in his arms. They seemed . . . soft.

"You are my only love, Alfred," Ivan swore. "I did this for you." Ivan didn't like children, but he knew Alfred did and he had hoped that having one would help calm him . . . looks like he was right so far.

He heard Alfred clear his throat before feeling him turn, pulling away from him and then holding out the child with a half-smile. "Then why don't you take care of him since he's yours?"

Ivan blinked. He didn't understand what Alfred was doing before he sighed and gently pressed the child back into Alfred's bosom. "He is yours too."

The looks Alfred was giving to Ivan were as if he didn't know who he was. Alfred was that confused.

Ivan simply smiled and offered to explain. "It is not hard to convince doctors to provide a child bonded through two males." Nor was it hard to collect Alfred's DNA while Ivan provided the sperm. "The woman who carried him was kept healthy and in fit shape. He was born this past January 3rd. I wanted to wait a little while until he was old enough," More like was potty trained, could walk, and speak, "before revealing him to you."

Alfred did the math in his head. It was March 30th right now so this little guy in his arms was only three months old. Looking at him he looked healthy and quite large. Was he really . . . had Ivan really . . . ?

Alfred looked up at Ivan. His lips parted to ask something but the gentle press of the Russian's mouth halted all advancing words. When Ivan pulled his lips away he smiled.

"You will stay, da?" Ivan glanced once to the baby in Alfred's arms before meeting those confused and conflicted blue eyes. "You are a parent now, Alfred. Children need both parents to raise them. So, you will stay."

Ivan felt it was time to let it all settle. He backed away and exited the American's room. He spared one last glance before closing the door gently.

Alfred simply couldn't take his eyes off the child. The little one wasn't moving anymore. His face wasn't scrunching up and the American could hear no more noise coming out of his sealed mouth. He was sleeping, he was curled close to Alfred's chest and he was sleeping.

The sudden intake of it all had the American's knees weak. He slipped down onto the side of his bed, out of breath and at a loss for words. He had not expected to wake up that day and deal with the daily rituals of his wretched restrained married life only to find a child to call his own at the end of the day.

Was the baby really . . . had Ivan really . . . done all of this?

Just how long had Ivan planned all of this? Alfred knew the Russian didn't care for children, in fact he remembered constant frowns when the little ones ran around their legs wherever they happened to run into them. Alfred was more than surprised; shocked, befuddled, flabbergasted.

It was a ploy, it had to be. He and Ivan had been fighting tooth and nail more than ever. Whenever the Russian returned Alfred made sure to give him hell. He tried to chase him away, to make him so angry with him he'd either kill him and get rid of him. How come nothing ever seemed to work out the way Alfred wanted?

A child? Ivan decided "creating" a child for the both of them would—what, calm him down? Alfred scoffed at the idea. The very thought of Ivan bringing home a baby to put more shackles on him made his blood pump and his heart race with rising anger, and yet . . . when his eyes turned down and he looked at the sleeping lump in his arms his temper cooled and a tenderness boiled over.

Soon Alfred was digging through the baby's carrier to find the necessities he needed. He found some blankets, a diaper bag next to it filled with bottles, wipes, powder, and diapers but that was all. Alfred sighed. He looked around his room for anything to make a makeshift cradle, he didn't want the little guy to strain his neck in the carrier, but Alfred's room wasn't designed for a baby—nothing in the house was.

So, Alfred made sure to complain to his husband come morning breakfast. He tried to ignore the way Ivan's eyes watched him when he entered the dining room, especially when the Russian grinned at the the way Alfred's arms seemed to not want to let go of their newest addition.

"You bring an infant home and don't even have a properly prepared room set out for him," Alfred criticized when he took his seat and hoisted the wide-eyed curious child against his shoulder, bouncing him slightly in his arms.

"Da, we can arrange his room together," Ivan suggested. The sight of Alfred's obvious attachment to the child made the Russian's chest swell with pride—whether it was because his last ditch plan had worked, or that his husband coddling their child was endearing. "I will call for the furnish today. They should get here by noon."

"I want him in my wing," Alfred insisted. He had shifted the three-month into the bend of his arms again, his blue eyes scanning his features—looking for his own in the child. No, it was still too early to see who he took after more.

Ivan could care less where the child was stationed. He didn't plan on insisting with its needs, he had caretakers for that. Alfred was not expected to tend to the babe either, but if the American so wanted to . . . well, that would certainly keep his mind from wandering to new ways in which to end his own life.

"Da, if that is what you want." Ivan was extremely compliant with Alfred's demands this time, so long as they only coincided with the child's.

So Ivan called in an order to a furniture store. Anything having to do with a baby—crib, changing table, walker, playpen, etcetera—was demanded. Around noon the delivery came and was built by the men moving the furniture around.

It didn't take long before the room right across the hall from Alfred's designated sleeping place became something fit for a new child. The transformation happened so quickly that Ivan could see the surprise on his husband's face. Alfred had yet to put the child down in the crib constructed for him. He simply walked around the room, taking in each sudden change.

Holding the infant with one arm Alfred used his free arm to reach out and test the durability of the newly constructed furnish in the room. After he seemed satisfied he turned toward a cushioned rocking chair—for the weary caretaker that would no doubt need a relaxing break in the seat every once and a while. Alfred sat down, his eyes still looking at every newly changed detail of the room. It was a baby's room definitely, Alfred's baby's room.

"There is no need to cling," Ivan finally spoke up after noticing that it seemed as if his American husband didn't plan on setting the child down any time soon. "Toris is well equipped to take care of him if you so wish." Alfred liked Toris, and so Ivan designated him as a plausible caretaker for the newest addition to their family.

To Ivan's surprise he caught that slight frown twitch in the corner of the blonde's lips. Strange reaction for bringing the Lithuanian up. Now Ivan watched Alfred glue his eyes back to the slumbering child. The little one began moving in his arms. He looked ready to waken.

With a few chirping squeaks the babe opened his eyes and looked up at Alfred. Pleasantly the child remained quiet. His mouth opened and tongue poked out a few times while staring up into the face of his parent. The smile that came from the stare-down made Ivan's heart flutter, Alfred's soft smiles aimed at the child were filled with present love, that much Ivan could see.

"His name is Alexei Franklin Braginsky," Ivan said, disrupting the silence to offer the name he had picked out for the babe. Wide blue eyes looked up at him. Alfred's mouth lay open as if to say something, but no sound passed his throat. Ivan simply smiled. "Do you like?" Aren't the doll's eyes round and pretty? Aren't the curly hair on the doll soft? Do you like what the doll is wearing? It was how Ivan saw the child even if he couldn't realize it like his husband had. Just a pretty new porcelain plaything to appease an unsatisfied husband. But, by the looks of it, the doll might be the husband's most favorite present.

That night Alfred didn't sleep in his bed, nor the child in his cradle. In the morning the two were found slumbering together on that rocking chair in the nursery. The babe had taken to Alfred just as much as the American had taken to him.

It was pleasant to see a well thought-out plan come together so easily. Ivan had been worried, unsure if Alfred would even care for the infant. He did, so much so that he quite frankly wasn't too fond of having Ivan anywhere near the child.

"I got 'im, I got 'im!" came Alfred's voice as he dashed out of the kitchen with a warm wet rag. Once he made it to the child's side where the babe was seated in a high chair, the American bent down and began cleaning the little one's fingers and mouth of the smeared food. He had been crying, and Ivan had decided to try to quiet him by shoving a spoonful of baby food into his mouth—Alexei didn't take too kindly to that. "Go away so he doesn't wipe food all over your sleeves," Alfred recommended in an insisting tone. He knew how upset Ivan could get over simple stains.

"He was crying and I thought he was hungry," Ivan said, pulling his arm away and setting the small jar of baby food down on the kitchen table. "I guess I was wrong."

Alfred sighed. He turned and picked up the jar and looked at it. With a groan he turned to Ivan and shook his head. "He doesn't like this one. Can't get him to eat it." Alfred sighed again, throwing his hands in the air before unbuckling the baby from the high chair and pulling him into his arms. "Dammit, it's everywhere. Let's get you a bath, big guy."

Ivan observed quietly. He knew Alfred didn't care for his presence or handling with the child at that, but this was Ivan's home and that was Ivan's child, he could do what he damn well pleased. So, there he stood, leaning against the arch of the doorway while Alfred bathed the child to clean off the mess he had made of himself that afternoon. Alexei was getting better at sitting up with each passing month, but Alfred still always had a hand on his back to balance him.

The child enjoyed baths. Ivan would grow annoyed with the way the babe flailed his arms and struck at the water only for it to soak the front of Alfred's shirt, but he was not the one on his hands and knees washing away the spit-up baby food from the child. Alfred kept to himself, knowing Ivan was watching, was standing just behind him. The Russian often wondered what he spoke about when he was absent—he sometimes caught the sound of the American speaking to the child while passing by the nursery's closed doors.

But Ivan told himself he was content. He stayed away. He gave Alfred his space. He let him raise the child.

Coming home wasn't such a burden anymore. The sight of Alfred sprawled out on the ground playing with their son was a much better welcome-home than those from the previous years. Alfred still wouldn't smile at him or grant him welcoming kisses, but at least those hate filled eyes were busy watching their son take his first steps and speak his first words.

The atmosphere in their home had changed dramatically. The pungent press before was no longer dampening moods and urging migraines. Laughter echoed down the halls instead of teeth-tearing screams. The sight of Alfred carrying Alexei on his shoulders was now so common that the remembrance of his favorite spot at the bar was forgotten—thought of as a dark dream.

Ivan rubbed his cheeks. They hurt. He couldn't remember smiling so much, at least not before Alfred's affair. Truly Ivan was only happy when Alfred was.

For the first time in five years Ivan didn't want to leave his main home. But he had territory to oversee and partners to negotiate with. While away he kept close tabs on his husband and child. Surprisingly Alfred was more than compliant. He made no trouble for the guards or the servants, if anything Ivan was only informed that the American took to eating in the nursery, residing so much there that it was like his second room.

Ivan was flattered that, when the time came, Alfred wanted to celebrate Alexei's first birthday extravagantly, it was endearing but Ivan had the final say and he made it so that it was only among the household. Ivan didn't understand the idea of "birthday parties" yes, and the idea of overbearing guests with other brats could have played a factor in his negative thoughts for such an event, but in reality Ivan did not want anyone—friend or foe—to know about Alexei. The Russian didn't like children and just about gave all rights to his upbringing to Alfred, but unbeknownst there was a concern for the baby's safety and if keeping him isolated would ensure a better health and longevity then Ivan would so see it that this happen until he deems it safer for his heir to venture out into the world.

Alfred didn't spout out any complaints to Ivan's surprise. The Russian could see that his husband immediately understood his motives behind rejecting the idea of an open birthday party. Alfred's agreeable attitude was pleasant and Ivan enjoyed the peace at his home.

Screams and tears and teething was not Ivan's forte. Even if Alfred's persona had calmed that did not mean it applied to a young child. Alexei could get so out of hand Ivan had to steal himself away from home. He hated the noise and simply removed himself to a quieter place.

Alexei was created for Alfred—to calm and to come to love. Ivan wasn't certain if he could outright say he "loved" his son. He was of his own flesh and blood, yes, but Ivan had never wanted children. The thought of the boy only came as a last straw, only came because Ivan remembered after hard thought that Alfred liked children. Adoption had been out of the question, more so had the idea of letting Alfred return to funding children organizations. Ivan cared for Alfred and so he gave from himself to create Alexei, and what a perfect present he had been.

Alfred loved that boy to death. Ivan knew that the American probably understood why the child existed in the first place, but he moved away from the usual spite toward Ivan and his ways to coo and fawn over the baby. Ivan wasn't sure if Alfred would ever forget the reason for Alexei's existence, but he could see his care for such internal matters quickly pushed off to the side when he held the boy, when he got on his knees and played with him, when he smiled and made funny noises just to get Alexei to open his mouth while Alfred twirled the spoon around like an airplane.

Alfred loved kids; so Alexei was perfect for him.

Still Ivan remained quiet. He only spoke when Alfred struck up a conversation—if he did. Now he sat contently out in their backyard watching Alfred pushing Alexei on the constructed swings. The babe was two and a half years old now. Time flew.

High pitched squeals and giggles always made Ivan cringe and frown, but Alexei's sounds were different. Ivan smiled the entire time his little boy cried out in glee when his daddy pushed him so high. Unintelligible garble really, but it made Alfred laugh along with him. It was a strange effect on Ivan, something he would figure the reasons for later.

Ivan watched as little Alexei's arms let go of the edges of the seat he was safely saddled in and reached out, his blue eyes looking toward where the Russian sat on a bench just at the edge of the playground.

"Papa!" The squeal sounded almost understandable. Ivan wasn't sure if he should think any more on it, but when Alexei moved his mouth and said it again the Russian realized he was being addressed. "Papa!" Ivan blinked in surprise. He had heard from status updates that Alexei's been spouting words—English words of course—but Ivan had figured it would take a while until the little boy could properly form an understandable sentence.

"Papa?" Alfred had questioned before turning his attention to what his little boy had set his eyes on. He looked at Ivan, the smile on his lips faded somewhat that disheartened Ivan's spirit, but when he turned his eyes back toward Alexei, Alfred nodded. "Yeah, that's papa. Say, 'papa'?"

Alexei threw his arms up and squealed again. "Papa!" He kept his eyes on Ivan and strangely the Russian felt compelled to come up and pat him on the head in congratulations on saying a word properly. Of course the mob boss didn't act on such thoughts and remained seated, observing from afar. He was afraid, yes, afraid to enter into Alfred's happy world and change it back into what it used to be—after all, Alfred had continuously blamed Ivan for disrupting his life and so a distance is what Ivan figured the American needed . . . though, it wasn't what Ivan needed.

Alfred laughed. The sound of it turned Ivan's lips upward. "I think he want's ya, Ivan."

Again, Ivan blinked in surprise. Alfred was looking at him, the smile from his laughter still painting his facial features, the soft tenderness in his eyes that he shows to their son still sparkled in those light blue eyes. It was as if he was purposely looking at Ivan like that and the Russian felt his heart skip a beat. When he addressed him all attention was his to keep and Ivan sat up straight.

Ivan didn't say a word to Alfred's deduction. He simply glanced from his husband toward his squirming child who looked too excited to contain himself. Slowly, Ivan stood. He wasn't sure what was wanted of him but he approached his family.

"Stand here," Alfred bade, pushing Ivan to settle behind the boy's swing. "Push him. I think it's what he wants."

Both parents shared a look at the light-haired boy. He squealed and giggled, rocking the saddle he sat in to urge any parent to push him for his adrenaline rush. Ivan did as wished and pushed the boy. It was easy at first, barely nudging the child forward, but with Alfred's instruction and the toddler's squealing chirps as encouragement Ivan got into a rhythm and pushed his son.

It was a nice moment for Ivan. Not so much because he was bonding with his child, but more so that Alfred was no longer looking at him with hate. True the American's eyes were more directed toward the form of their child, but with that the spite took too long to form in his irises and so for a moment he'd look at Ivan the same way he looked at Alexei—with love.

Ivan understood that he could not go back to the way he and Alfred used to be. Even with a child in their lives they could not turn back the hands of time in their relationship. Ivan wanted Alfred, he was strained from not being able to hold his lithe warm form in his arms, but above all he wanted his husband happy.

Alfred once called Ivan selfish. No, Ivan was sacrificing his uttermost satisfaction to take some small form of happiness in seeing Alfred lighter, to hear him laugh, and see those eyes of his sparkle with youth. It was a tiny measure of happiness for Ivan, but he believed he could live on it.

Standing back and watching was the only luxury Ivan could have, but he forced himself to remain content and to not act on the longing of his heart. Alexei took up all of Alfred's time, but the two of them together brought about a lighter mood in their home which Ivan and his household were glad for.

Though Ivan still insisted on Alfred remaining at their home—whichever they resided at in the year—he did give him the freedom of his presence. The office or parting for business is how Ivan kept himself away from his husband. Alexei kept Alfred busy and so the American didn't seem to even notice his husband's absence.

This reason was why Ivan was profusely surprised when Alfred contacted him one day while he was states away for business. The American was upset and near tears when he informed him of Alexei's rising fever.

Ivan wondered if he had boarded the redeye because he did not like it when his husband was upset, or that he was genuinely concerned for his son's health. He was Alfred's responsibility after all; it was up to the American to care for the little babe, not Ivan. Yet Alfred spoke his concern to his husband because Ivan was the father and because he was scared for the first time since receiving the child.

Alfred had already called in a private doctor, but when he could offer no help Ivan called another. This one provided little help himself and only suggested monitoring the young child to make sure his concerning fever didn't rise any more than it should—it was already at dangerous levels. Alfred wanted to take him to the hospital, but Ivan refused. If things got out of hand Ivan would just send in more doctors, Alexei wasn't ready to be shown off just yet.

"You're a strong boy, Alex," Alfred muttered against the boy's sweaty temple. Alfred kissed him and ran his fingers through his soaking hair—the poor baby was burning up and there was nothing the American could do about it. "You get better, you hear?"

It was weeks after Alexei's third birthday and Alfred was ready to break down. This was one of the reasons why Ivan disliked children—they always made their parents weak. Of course he denied the stabbing coldness seeping out of his heart at the sight of the poor boy.

More so Ivan was moved by how close Alfred pressed to the boy. The American laid himself down next to him on the bed they had moved him too after he'd gotten too big for the cradle. Alfred wrapped his arms around him and held him close to his chest, pressing his lips and nose against the crown of his head.

Alexei's pale cheeks and forehead was red with fever. He wasn't eating or drinking and Alfred was scared to death . . . unknowingly so was Ivan.

"Daddy's here." Ivan turned his eyes from the poor form of his child toward Alfred's saddened and distressed features. "Daddy will be here when you wake up."

Alfred tightened his embrace. A whining moan caught in Alexei's throat. Ivan could see Alfred wanted to cry, but he held back his tears.

In the middle of the night Alexei's fever broke and he breathed better in his slumber. Alfred had been so happy he said a thankful prayer to God above. In fact, he had been in this kneeling position against the bed when Ivan came in and found him passed out. He chuckled at the sight. He knew Alfred had drained himself both emotionally and physically so it was understandable why he was exhausted.

Still, Ivan pressed close. Reaching down he ran his fingers through fine golden strands. Still as soft as ever. Ivan smiled down at his husband before running his fingers down to massage Alfred's scalp. Ivan was proud of him; Alfred's proved himself a devoted parent.

If only Alfred could show such devotion as a husband.

Ivan pushed away frowning thoughts when he started at the feel of a strong grip grasp his wrist. Alfred had reached up and taken hold of Ivan's massaging hand. The American pulled it away from his head and inhaled a waking breath.

"Mm, what time is it?" Alfred droned out. He rubbed his eyes for a moment before realizing he'd lost his glasses. The moment he turned his head around to look for them he noticed Ivan as well as understood that he was the one whose wrist he caught touching him.

Ivan could clearly see all of the stress and weariness in the younger. He smiled endearingly, leaning down and gently pulling his wrist out of Alfred's grip. His freed hand then turned to press knuckles against Alfred's forehead, wiping bangs out of his heavy eyes.

"Come, Alexei needs his rest, and it will do you nor him any good if you get sick as well." Ivan didn't bother telling Alfred the time, it was too late to even keep track. But Alfred did not protest when Ivan lead him out of the room with one last concerning glance back at Alexei's sleeping form.

Ivan wanted Alfred to rest and so offered him a room farther away from Alexei's so just to get away from the fevered atmosphere—Ivan would not stand for both his spouse and child ill. He felt his room to be ideal, after all he could just lay away in another spare bedroom, but even Ivan had surprised himself when his body took steps on its own and soon found itself within their old room—the one where he and Alfred had once shared as spouses that slept in the same bed.

Ivan felt somewhat embarrassed over this sudden surprise in destination. He even offered Alfred an apologetic smile. When he turned to open the door and leave he noticed Alfred's strange behavior out of the corner of his eye. Those shoulders were slumped giving way to the American's weary form, but Alfred was wide awake now, his eyes shined in the darkness of the room, staring at the space he used to occupy in the first few years of their marriage.

Again Ivan took on the role of observer, well, that is until the room entranced the Russian like it had his American husband. Amethyst eyes took in objects, and places where memories were made and love was shared—supposedly. Ivan smiled softly at the memories, his gaze falling back to Alfred's unmoving form. He wondered what he was thinking, and how he felt about this old room of theirs.

Ivan wanted to live in this room again, with Alfred in his arms. But he wanted Alfred to freely fall into his embrace. He wanted Alfred to just love him back.

An ache arose inside Ivan's chest of unknown origin to him. He rubbed at his chest before he felt a gravitational pull press him closer to Alfred. Now, he was standing right behind him. Neither moved.

When Alfred's scent caught in Ivan's nostrils he closed his eyes to take him in. In that moment he leant his head down, first to only inhale the American's warm pleasant summer smell. The kiss to the side of the neck might have been accidental hadn't another one followed after that.

The kisses were pressed firmly and lingered longer than necessary, but Ivan could not stop. One of his hands came up to Alfred's shoulder while the other reached up to caress that tanned neck as his mouth tasted of his husband again. Alfred still did not move and so Ivan pressed closer, his chest rubbing against Alfred's back, taking in the warmth of him.

Ivan had wanted Alfred to lean his head to the side and offer more of his neck to him, but it was only his own hands reaching up and bending the American's neck that way. Still . . . Alfred did not protest. Both sets of eyes fluttered closed and the soft pants passing Alfred's lips eventually caught in Ivan's ears.

Ivan's eyes opened at the near quiet sound. Pupils dilated to give him better sight in the darkness of the unused room. Pulling his mouth away, Ivan leaned back to twist Alfred around. Wide blue eyes stared up into his own, those soft lips were still parted. Alfred made no motion to pull away, nor press closer.

Ivan leaned closer to test the waters. His forehead brushed against Alfred's, so close that he could feel the American's eyelashes flutter against his cheek. Breathing hot air on those parted lips made Alfred react in a pleasing way. There was a small shutter felt and those parted lips trembled, opening ever so subtly more.

Ivan held his breath for a moment, leaning his head down further and again kissing Alfred's neck. The vertebrae moved to the side so easily that Ivan moved downward faster, wanting to kiss that jutting collarbone. His fingers assisted his plight, unbuttoning buttons of the dark shirt Alfred was adorned in. Those hands should have halted when Ivan's lips attached to suck against the bone and skin but they continued to split the American's shirt in half and then reach up, pulling the flaps apart and down shoulders to bare a torso.

Even Ivan's lips had not resisted what was offered. Down they traveled, kissing warm skin and protruding muscle. When a bare arm wrapped around his head Ivan looked up to see Alfred barren of any shirt, the article of clothing having fluttered down to their feet already. Their eyes met and Ivan saw no resistance so he did not hold himself back.

The Russian leaned up quickly, pressing mouths together for the first time in so long. Ivan moaned and grasped both sides of Alfred's face when he felt the feel of pressing lips in return. He kissed him hard, hard enough to press open his mouth and shove his tongue inside. It was proper to go slow right now but Ivan had been denied his spouse for so long; he was deprived.

For a small moment Ivan thought he might be dreaming—it wouldn't be the first. But when he felt Alfred's unsure hands reach up to grasp his coat Ivan knew it was real. Ivan pulled his lips away for breath and to suck against Alfred's neck again. He wanted to mark him, to kiss every inch of his skin all over again.

Ivan hated the feel of his clothing preventing him from really feeling his husband's bare skin, but he held off on disrobing himself to touch Alfred again. He let his hands wander down his back, fingers tracing every trembling muscle before sliding to his front, brushing nipple and naval. When Ivan kissed Alfred again he groaned when the younger moaned into his mouth at the feel of the Russian's thumbs rubbing against his nipples to raise them pert.

Tense, Alfred was very tense. Ivan made to massage his strain away, but the moment his hands moved lower the younger's joints would lock up again and Ivan would have to start all over. The Russian didn't want this to end—didn't want Alfred to suddenly pull away and leave him—so he took it slow and both took pleasure from this.

Alfred made no move to leave nor did he make a move to interact. No, he remained still, letting Ivan have his way with him but also quietly guiding those hands by pressing closer to them to urge them to places that needed to be touched. When Ivan hooked his fingers into Alfred's belt those bright blue eyes looked up at him. Their gazes held only until Ivan beheld those gem-like eyes darken into sapphires and glance down to watch him unclasp the buckle.

Ivan tried to calm himself. He didn't want to be hasty, not in this delicate moment. But the belt buckle was unclasp before Ivan had even remembered moving his hands to it. Along with that came the zipper of Alfred's pants. Ivan paused after that, keeping his hands on the younger's hips and pulling him closer.

Ivan wanted to continue, to strip his husband, but the fear of him leaving shot up in that moment and so he just held him in his arms, he held him against himself so securely that Alfred wouldn't be able to pull away even if he tried. Ivan was afraid to feel it, to feel his husband tug him away, to push at him and to take the warmth of his body and leave him cold like so many nights.

Ivan held Alfred for a long time. The American didn't move, he didn't utter a word, and when Ivan realized this he pulled back a little and looked at him. Gazes met and a silent conversation was shared.

Ivan's hands did not wait for his mind. They moved, thumbs hooking into edges and sliding fabric down. Now they skimmed over boxer concealed hips, some fingers even gliding up the leg of the boxer to feel Alfred's warm thigh.

Ivan took in the way Alfred sucked in a breath at the feel of his hands touching him. He wanted to see Alfred shivering, his eyes clenched shut in pleasure and lips parted to cry out his name. Ivan wanted this so very much right now.

Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the room or the memories that were attached to it, but two estranged spouses were pressing close to the other, sharing kisses once thought cold and caresses once thought forbidden. Ivan stepped on the pants bunched around Alfred's ankles to get him out of them while he pressed forward, making the American stumble backwards. Ivan wrapped his arms around him to keep him from falling back onto the floor and as soon as Alfred was balanced he looked back up, eyes meeting Ivan's.

Those unsure hands of his finally moved. Ivan could feel them rise up and down his clothed back before they rested against his shoulder blades for support. Alfred didn't make any other moves than that. Ivan did not mind, just as long as he wasn't resisting him.

Leaning down Ivan kissed his husband once more. This kiss let his lips travel, down Alfred's chin and then to litter the honey blonde's neck with marks. Ivan could hear the sighs leaving Alfred's mouth and it aroused him even more.

Slowly Ivan pushed until Alfred's legs bumped against their bed. Ivan released the younger and let him fall. The American's arms flung out behind him to keep him seated as upright as possible but after the initial bounce from the mattress Ivan's eyes took him in. He wasn't sure if Alfred purposely did it but he had landed on the bed with his legs spread wider than common and those darkening blue eyes enticed Ivan closer.

Ivan would not let Alfred escape from him. He reached out, his hands gripping the American's knees to spread them further while he settled in-between his thighs and came down to nip at his neck and shoulders. The sighs became more frequent and when Ivan felt Alfred buck his hips against him he sighed out in relief. Ivan pulled away and looked at Alfred, he wished he could understand him better, wished he could read his mind—they'd grown too far apart. But, none of that mattered at the moment because Ivan was seeking release and he was seeking his husband.

Reaching up he began unwinding his scarf and then he took off his jacket—he'd yet to change from his attire he had been wearing when he had gotten off the plane. Untucking his dress shirt and then unbuckling and unzipping his pants was all he could take before his body had to press close to Alfred once more, inhaling his scent and taking his skin into his mouth. Ivan could feel how hard he was, painfully so. He needed to become one with his husband right now.

A short whining moan slipped past Alfred's teeth when Ivan rolled his hips into him. The moment their groins connected Alfred's eyes fluttered closed and his head turned. Ivan tilted his own head back, a smile on his lips and a pleased sigh escaping his mouth. He continued grinding into Alfred, reaching down just to rub his spread thighs.

Alfred's lips sealed when a moan rumbled up his throat. Ivan's right hand released his thigh and reached upward to rub against Alfred's clothed groin. He was hardening.

Ivan pulled his hands away and simply ground into his husband. While doing so he reached up and tugged off his dress shirt, forgetting to unbutton—so a few buttons popped, big deal, Ivan had more important matters at hand. Once the shirt was off and over his head Ivan caught sight of Alfred's opened eyes. He was staring at Ivan's ink-engraved skin, no doubt stirring up old memories.

Ivan remained quiet and still under Alfred's observing gaze, especially when he felt those warm hands of the American's move. Firstly they traveled down his back then slipped down over his ribcage. Ivan only spied them when they came sliding down his arms, tanned fingers tracing over inked images installed into the Russian's pale skin years ago.

Resisting the urge to shiver if only to show some control, Ivan contently watched Alfred trace his tattoos. He was glad he was touching him in return—though, not as intimately, at least he was still touching him. When those hands seemed to still, resting against Ivan's flexors, the Russian moved. He leaned closer, pressing his American husband's form deeper into the sheets. His own hands rubbed up and down Alfred's arms before his fingers wrapped around wrists and drug them up to rest near that golden head.

No matter how many years they had been married, no matter how much older Alfred got, no matter if the strains in their relationship had entitled estrangement, the American was still the beauty Ivan had first beheld back at that little Italian restaurant. Beautiful. Alfred will always be so breathtakingly beautiful to Ivan.

In that moment Ivan had to lean down and kiss him again. It was soft and tender and full of all of the love Ivan could ever hope to have for him. When he pulled away from those warm lips Ivan was saddened to see those blue eyes dart away, Alfred had even turned his head in simple submission.

Ignoring the refrained attention, Ivan continued. He leaned down and kissed Alfred's neck, trailing kisses down his torso before taking a nipple into his mouth. Ivan could feel Alfred's body arch under him, he could even feel those hands of the American's, clenching into fists. Ivan took his time to suck on the bud before moving onto the other, when his wet mouth pressed around the other dusty nipple Alfred's hips bucked into him. He moaned around the soft patch of skin from the reaction and immediately his hands let go of Alfred's wrists to slide down to the younger's hips, keeping them firmly pressed against the bed.

Now that Alfred's hands were free they moved. Instead of gripping at the sheets underneath them Ivan felt them touch him, the tips of warm fingers tingled the back of his neck before pressing down firmer where palms splayed against the nape of his neck, just a little away from tangling digits into his hair. Again, Ivan said nothing about the lack of interactive touch. He simply continued getting to know his husband's body all over again.

It had been about seven years since Ivan had done anything intimate with his husband. Their last escapade had been so unarousing that Ivan took his hands away and left Alfred alone like he wanted to. The pent up sexual frustration was overburdening, but now the possibility for the hope of release was arising in the air around. This, however, did not waver any control in the Russian, he kept his pace steady and sure—exploring first and pleasuring secondly.

Alfred aged well. Not a single passing year tarnished his body. The excitement of growing old with him by his side had returned after the remembrance of strained relations passed out of Ivan's mind.

In Alfred's anger with Ivan he took to the gym more than previous. The American's frame was thicker, laden with more defined muscle that Ivan had longed to run his hands and tongue over. The toned shapes seemed to enjoy Ivan's attention with how the muscles trembled and twitched under his ministrations.

The moans behind Alfred's teeth were becoming too loud to conceal through sealed lips. He seemed to particularly enjoy the feel of Ivan's large hands rubbing inside his thighs, just far enough away from a straining erect member. The buck of hips alerted his Russian husband to his predicament and when rubbing hands finally touched the tender organ Alfred whined out a sigh, blinking away tears with tightly closed eyelids.

Ivan continued to rub him until those muffled moans escaped. Just one, Ivan wanted to hear just one opened mouthed moan. He did, and when that pitch tickled his eardrums the Russian shivered, reaching his hand inside the boxers to pull out Alfred's throbbing cock. Ivan smiled in delight at its state, more so at the precum leaking out at the tip.

Perhaps Alfred was just as sexually frustrated as Ivan.

Ivan's thumb expertly rubbed the slit, smearing the juices all over the head. The circular motion swayed Alfred's hips in the same movement, and another open-mouthed moan slipped out of the American's lips. Like before, the sound was silently rewarded. Ivan squeezed the member in his hand and gave it a firm pump. A moan rumbled in his throat at the sight of Alfred's hips leaving the bed.

So, Ivan's other hand dipped down between Alfred's thighs as well, cupping his clothed testicles and squeezing before fondling both rounds. Alfred began thrusting into Ivan's hand more, encouraging the Russian to keep squeezing him. More was Ivan encouraged by the voluntary spread of Alfred's legs than anything else. Slowly he watched them part, the knees weighing down the rest of the legs to spread so invitingly.

Ivan had to lean back on his legs to view Alfred properly. His eyes darkened more with want . . . the want to see him fully naked and bare.

When Ivan tugged down Alfred's boxers it wasn't polite or gentle. He yanked the last article of clothing off of his husband quite forcibly. Alfred didn't make any mention of the rougher handle, but his legs did bend, knees arching up to slightly close his thighs than previously spread. Again, Ivan was less than gentle. He took his hands and spread those thighs apart to look at the American's most intimate places. After all, it had been years since he's seen him so uncovered and those amethyst eyes were hungry for flesh.

Ivan leaned down, his nose brushing against the inside of Alfred's spread thigh. He inhaled his scent and frowned. He remembered a time when the American was so infused with his own scent one couldn't tell the difference in fragrance. Ivan wanted that again; he wanted Alfred draped head to toe in his scent, he wanted him longing for his touch, he wanted to taste him again.

Open mouthed kisses were placed against the warm tender flesh presented before Ivan. He could feel the muscles quivering against his lips as they traced their way deeper. When his warm breath skimmed over the tender flesh of Alfred's groin the phallus twitched. Ivan heard Alfred gulp in another moan and he lost it.

Taking a hold of the cock firmly in his hand Ivan shoved half of it into his mouth. Immediately Alfred's hips bucked into him and the sound that came out of the American almost made Ivan cum.

"Oooh!" Alfred had already laid his head on its side, but when Ivan took him into his mouth he tossed it back and forth, his lips parted in the shape of an "O" and eyes rolling behind closed eyelids.

The hands tangling their fingers into Ivan's hair did not pull or push. They simply remained, holding onto Ivan while he worked the younger in his mouth. The Russian deemed the movement rewardable and so took in more of Alfred's cock. The pleasured sounds shivered throughout Ivan's entire being. The arousal took hold of him and he began to grind his hips into the mattress, he ached with need so much.

Ivan was mostly certain that he could take Alfred right then. That the American would not protest should he stretch him and penetrate him in moments. But Ivan refrained. He wanted to get to know Alfred's body all over again, and he wanted the taste of him to linger in his mouth for weeks to come—just in case this would be the last time Alfred would give himself to him.

So Ivan swallowed Alfred whole, sucking with a mission to get him to cum. He particularly wrapped his lips around the base of the younger's cock, pulling at the skin with sheer pressure when he bobbed his head up, and when he came down he would, in by inch, suck him in again in an agonizingly slow pace. Those arousing sounds escaping from Alfred grew that way, and Ivan allowed enough weight off of the American's hips to encourage them to roll in movement with his lips.

One buck when Alfred's hips left the bed Ivan maneuvered his hands underneath him, now gripping him firmly on the ass, pushing him more into his mouth. The American's legs spread wider and almost all his grinding movements stopped with Ivan taking lead and sucking vigorously.

Ivan hummed when he felt the organ in his mouth swell. The fingers laced in his hair began to pull, as if to force Ivan away, but he ignored their weak tugs and continued until Alfred came undone in his mouth. He swallowed every ounce of his spent husband and continued bobbing his head until the shaft was flaccid in his mouth.

Loosening his jaw, Ivan let the limp penis fall out of his mouth. The image below him enticed a seductive growl to rumble in his throat. There was Alfred, all spread and laid out before him, his arms now beside his head as the strength in them failed to hold onto to his hair. He had his eyes open, looking up at him while trying to catch his breath as quietly as possible. But that open mouth seduced Ivan too much, he had to lean in and capture those lips.

The moans echoing into Ivan's mouth from Alfred might have been from protest to let him breathe but Ivan ignored it all. He pressed closer, deepened the kiss all the while his hands pulled the rest of his clothing off of himself. He sighed through his nostrils when he finally laid above his husband just as bare as he. It felt good to grind his arousal against Alfred's pelvis, encouraging him to harden.

The moment Ivan felt Alfred erecting again he pulled his lips away. He could hear a loud gasp of air choke itself into Alfred's lungs, but his attention was turned away from his red-faced sunflower. Instead he took hold of his own arousal and guided it against Alfred's, rubbing until his hand wrapped around both cocks.

"Oh!" Alfred arched his chest into Ivan which made the older hum in approval and rub their torsos closer. While one hand of Ivan's worked on their cocks the other rubbed against Alfred's thigh, encouraging it to raise and press close against his hip.

The ministrations seemed to go on like this at a leisurely pace, enough to tease and harden the American. Ivan often wondered how he hadn't reached his own orgasm, but he remembered his internal promise to himself: he would not cum unless he was inside his husband, and now just wasn't the time. But, it was time to continue with the preparation for what was to come.

Ivan was surprised the bottle of lubricant was still in the small lampstand where his side of the bed used to be. He knew the thing was old due to its lack of use but that didn't mean it didn't work as it should. Ivan's fingers slipped inside Alfred's passage just fine thanks to the substance. He moaned when his fingers meant resistance, warm and tight.

Ivan shivered at the feel and pressed his two fingers in deeper until his knuckles rubbed against that outer ring of muscle. His own cock twitched just at the thoughts of embedding itself inside those tightened walls. But Ivan refrained from doing such a thing too soon. No, he didn't want Alfred suddenly pulling away.

He could see the discomfort in the American and so Ivan's fingers rubbing Alfred's thigh turned toward his cock and squeezed. When Alfred bucked Ivan began rubbing his fingers, moving them to casually open him up. He knew he found that enjoyable prostrate when the blond began pressing down on those fingers, clenching his anal muscles to keep them pressing at a certain angle.

While Ivan would love to tease his husband and finger fuck him until he came fifty times his own throbbing cock was called to his attention and if he wasn't settled inside the tight heat of his husband soon then he'd have a serious issue. So he began to scissor his fingers, pulling apart tight muscle that had grown taut over years of unuse. Ivan moaned when Alfred's hips began moving again and in that motion Ivan added another finger. He pressed in deep and rubbed just the way he knew his husband would enjoy. And he did.

Amethyst eyes were transfixed by the way Alfred's abdominal muscles quivered by those fingers working inside the younger. Whenever Ivan pressed in deeper, pressed against that bundle of nerves, Ivan would see Alfred's abdominal muscles harden, rippling in time as his internal muscles were pulled apart.

The Russian bucked his hips closer when he pushed in a fourth finger, grinding his hips in time with the motions of his hand. He went at this for a few minutes before he could take no more. His free hand held Alfred off—he could already feel him close—while his other hand pulled its digits away and blindly sought out the bottle of oil. He spilt the contents in his attempt to handle it with one hand, but he had enough slickness on his hand to due.

When Ivan lathered his cock he moaned. He tried not to pump himself too much because he worried in overstimulated himself. He could already feel his own girth in his hand, thick and throbbing and hot. Even the light touches Ivan had to press against himself for lubrication made him twitch.

One last time Ivan pressed his fingers inside Alfred's stretched opening just to press more lubrication inside. After that task was done Ivan reluctantly let go of Alfred's penis and held onto his thigh, pressing it against the mattress to give him better access. His other hand guided his cock to his husband's entrance, holding onto the shaft while he pressed inside.

Ivan could feel the muscles inside tighten when he pressed in just further then where his fingers could reach. He was considerate; he would pause when he felt tension and move when it eased enough to continue. He never took his eyes off of Alfred, watching closely for any signs of discomfort. There were plenty splayed across his face but Alfred bit his lip and took everything silently.

With one final thrust Ivan was seated wholly inside his husband, and with the completion of the bond Alfred came. His head fell back against the sheets underneath him, his teeth bared and eyes closed tightly while his second orgasm rocked over him. Ivan moaned at feeling the younger underneath him grind his hips into him to ride out the erupting pleasure the best he could. The roll helped Ivan's cock slip further than before so Ivan remained perfectly still while Alfred came down from his high.

The limpness is not what Ivan wanted however. He would have to work up the American again. So he moved, it was slow at first, purposely rubbing against those nerves inside Alfred to send tingles up and down his spine.

After a few stimulating thrusts Ivan leaned closer. He pressed his weight down on Alfred, chest and pelvises rubbing so close. Ivan's arms reached out and wrapped around Alfred, holding him close and pulling him more into his chest. Ivan snapped his hips forward quicker and buried himself deeper to make Alfred arch and he did so beautifully.

A moan came out of Alfred's mouth, the ones that followed were brought on by Ivan's lips as he tilted his head and pressed open-mouthed kisses against his hickey-covered neck. Ivan sought to mark every inch of him. His teeth breaking into skin didn't even seem to deter the American from rolling his hips into his own. Ivan could feel Alfred's cock, already standing erect and hot rubbing against his stomach.

When Ivan pulled his mouth away from a well discolored neck he rose his head and looked down at Alfred. Those blue eyes struggled to stay open as Ivan thrust into him to give him pleasure that came from inside and made his younger body catch aflame. Kiss swollen lips hung open to act out silent moans, and the way his jaw perked up and down let Ivan know just how much pleasure Alfred was experiencing. Yes, it had been years since they've made love . . . they both needed this.

Pressing his hands on both sides of Alfred's face Ivan held him still, wanting him to look at him. Those blue eyes shined with tears, a few leaked out just as Alfred closed his eyes and took in the pleasure overwhelming his body. Ivan stayed close, his forehead pressing against Alfred's while he hardened his thrusts.

He could hear moans rumbling in Alfred's throat the deeper he pressed. Ivan wanted to hear them, or at least taste them. He leaned his head down and rubbed his lips against Alfred's. They did not kiss, simply inhaled the other's breaths for a moment or two.

When the hot breaths became too much Ivan pressed down into a kiss, prying those lips open and pressing his tongue inside. He could feel Alfred opening his jaw more to accommodate him into his mouth. The feel of Alfred's own hot tongue felt nice, even more so when that tongue rubbed against his own.

Nothing had changed; Alfred could still make Ivan's heart swoon, could still make his mind think of only him, could still make his body shiver in want to hold him, could still make him so pleasurably hard. No one else, Ivan had met no other individual that could make him feel like this, could make him fall to pieces, this is why he had to have the American. He would not stand for anyone else taking him. Couldn't stand it at all.

Despite the fingers now wrapped into his hair, Alfred managed to pull his head back to gasp in needed breaths of air. He only managed to take in a few before Ivan's lips were on his again, kissing away all of the breath he had managed to take in. When he pulled away a second time he let out high pitched moans. Ivan was quickening his thrusts, spreading Alfred more and the younger grunted with each descent inside.

"Ah, ah, AH!" Alfred simply could not open his eyes anymore, but when his jaw loosened and his mouth opened—oh the heavenly sounds.

Ivan shivered, his mind in a buzz so fogged that his eyes rolled and he met his end. He rocked back and forth in his orgasm, milking every last drop of himself and pressing it deep inside Alfred—Ivan wanted him feeling him for days after this. When the waves of immense pleasure finally settled Ivan had time to feel the way Alfred's walls clenched around him in his final moment. Being filled by Ivan's cum was enough to push Alfred over the edge and so the younger bucked his hips and came all over their chests, a warm sticky mess.

Ivan remained still while Alfred rutted against him to ride out his orgasm and did the Russian enjoy it. With Alfred rubbing against him and pushing his ass down on Ivan's still embedded cock it certainly stimulated another rise out of Ivan and he moaned when he experimentally moved his hips in the way of a thrust.

Alfred let out a groan at the action and opened his eyes. He looked up at Ivan, blinking away the tears brought on by a fully satisfied finish. When Ivan met his gaze he thrust inside once more to make sure his husband understood that he was throbbing again and in need of satisfaction. Alfred's lips parted in such a way that a moan tumbled out of Ivan's throat and his eyes darkened. He thrust in a third time, pressing deeper and reaching down to grip Alfred's thigh against his hip. He wanted another round and he was making sure Alfred understood completely that he had no choice in the matter.

The American could have pulled away, or at least could have tried. He wouldn't have escaped, no, Ivan started up again, rubbing just the right way to stimulate his husband. The deeper he pressed the more cum squeezed out around his cock making Alfred groan at the feel of it dripping down his thighs and ass. Ivan loved it, it made for easier lubricant and the scent that arose with it smelled of him.

The sound of the bed creaking tickled Ivan's ears almost as much as Alfred's moans. He watched as Alfred reached out and gripped the sheets of the bed for support as the Russian plowed into him again. His pace was quicker this time, his thrusts harder, and now Alfred could hold his voice no longer. His head tossed to the side and out came groans and moans of the pleasure only Ivan could give to him.

The cum sloshing inside of Alfred coated Ivan's dick white. The Russian enjoyed its warmth, even more so when he pressed the substance deeper with his penetration. He could tell it made Alfred's stomach flip. Alfred would always press a hand down onto his stomach when he felt the spilt seed inside of him stretch him almost more so than Ivan's cock.

But those eyes. Those dark blue eyes staring up at Ivan while he took a hold of the American's knees and held them against his ribs made the Russian harden, forced his pace to quicken, and tauntingly brought him to a crumbling mess. Oh, what Alfred could do to him no matter if he thought it or not.

When Alfred's head got too close to the headboard Ivan would pay mind and pull his body back down the bed, closer to him. He had slammed into him so hard that the American's body thrust upward, the entire frame shuttering and twisting just as he cried out in bliss. When Ivan came again he found himself still so hard.

It had been years, so long, too long without Alfred to warm his bed, to warm him, and he wanted him, all of him that night. The American made no motion to move when Ivan reached forward and grabbed his hair tightly, pulling his neck back and leaning down to bite deep. When he cried out in pain the Russian hardened and so did his thrusts.

Their old room was filled with gasps, groans, moans, the creaking of the bed, skin slapping against sweat-soaked skin, and sloppy kisses planting on lips and other various body parts. Both Ivan and Alfred's bodies shined with sweat making any grip harder and harder the more they continued. And Ivan continued well into the night seeking to appease his throbbing cock that was hungry for tight release.

The count of how many times their bodies connected was lost to the heat and haze of their lovemaking. The last time before holding any secure grip on the other was deemed impossible Alfred had been rolled onto his stomach with his legs spread and Ivan pressing his chest against his back. His whimpers could be heard even under Ivan's loud grunts and groans while he held onto Alfred's hips and pulled them back onto his pelvis since Alfred's exhaustion had caught him and made his body slack.

No more, Alfred couldn't harden anymore and had no other choice but to wait for Ivan to spend himself. It was becoming extremely uncomfortable for the American though. His ass burned as well as his insides from the insistent stretch. The cum spilt inside him inflated him, but Ivan was intent on filling him until he burst.

Alfred let out another whine when Ivan finally came undone again. It wasn't as much as before and he barely felt a change at all. His voice was ragged as was Ivan's. Neither could speak, just simply breathe.

Finally Ivan pulled out. Alfred grunted out a choke when he felt the Russian leave him. His head fell onto the mattress and bunched up sheets underneath him when the built up cum began to ooze out of him. He felt gapping, he felt exhausted, but he felt good.

He simply laid there, laid there with Ivan's weight pressed on top of him. He took in better breaths of air when the Russian leaned up on shaking arms and moved back. With eyes closed Alfred just wanted to drift off into slumber, but he couldn't. He was still too wide awake, as was his body.

"Mmm," Alfred groaned, his lids squeezing tight when he felt Ivan's fingers rub against his thoroughly used asshole. He tensed up, but the puckered hole remained gapping, stretched to its limit. He managed to open his eyes and tilt his head just enough to look down at Ivan and watch as he observed him. He could see his weariness as well, but those violet eyes would not look away, not when Ivan's fingers continued to rub against him.

Alfred lightly flinched when Ivan pressed the tips of two fingers inside, just enough to rub around the inner part of the protruding ring of muscle. Ivan didn't press his fingers in deeper, he simply skimmed them around Alfred's red irritated opening. Alfred had to moan in discomfort just to get him to stop.

When Ivan looked at him the moment he moaned the Russian was surprised the younger was leaning up on his elbows and looking back down at him. Neither said anything, Alfred simply informed Ivan through silent looks that he had had enough and that he was tired and sore. Ivan seemed to understand. He leaned over Alfred again, his hips ground down against Alfred's ass a few times before the larger man lowered himself and laid on top of the American again.

With guiding fingers now on Alfred's chin the American was finding his head turning more and his lips pressed against another mouth. The kiss was soft but deep and when Ivan's lips left Alfred let out a content sigh. His eyes ended up closing when Ivan began kissing his neck and then his shoulders, and then down his spine.

Ivan took his time when kissing down Alfred's back. The American thought him to just trail down the couture of his spine when he felt Ivan's lips sway from their journey and lean over to bite and suck his ribs. Alfred shivered at that and looked back over his shoulder to watch his husband.

Ivan was a very good lover. Alfred knew the man was a complete bastard a majority of the time, but when they were alone, tangled in the sheets, he was someone else entirely.

Alfred moaned and then inwardly groaned at the feel of himself harden against the mattress. He was spent, his last orgasm was forever ago. He doubted he had anything left anymore and yet there he was, hardening just by watching the affection Ivan was displaying to his body.

So, to stop his upcoming erection Alfred slammed his face into the covers and willed away the sights he'd just witnessed. But right away his head shot up, eyes wide, and mouth agape to let out a loud moan.

"AH!" Alfred gasped for air when he felt his penis harden to full mast—dammit! When he turned to look over his shoulder he found his Russian lover between his legs, his hands gripping his ass cheeks to part so that that devilish tongue could snake its way inside of him.

The American hadn't been expecting a rim job. He was more than sore down there and yet Ivan's wet hot tongue felt amazing. He could even feel his anal muscles pulsing, slowly clenching on that wet appendage lapping at his insides, at the cum still leaking out.

Alfred could take no more of the sight and so turned away, waiting for Ivan to be finished with him—if he even was finished. But the sounds aroused the American, especially when he heard Ivan begin slurping at all of the substance leaking out of him.

"Oooh!" Alfred moaned, his head leaning back down against the mattress. His hips began to roll into Ivan's mouth. He jumped when he felt Ivan pull his tongue away and then began to nip at the stretched ring of muscle. When the tongue entered again Alfred found himself rolling his hips again, pressing down more.

He couldn't take it anymore. His hand slipped between himself and grabbed a hold of his dick, pumping the organ to try to manage any orgasm out of it. He winced when Ivan pressed in two fingers next to his tongue, the pain was dull enough to get Alfred off and he came what he suspected was the last of himself onto the sheets. Wasn't a half-bad orgasm.

He sighed when he felt Ivan pull away. He turned his head to look at the Russian only to reveal how weary and weak he was. Alfred knew Ivan could see it in his eyes that he was completely exhausted and to his delight the Russian understood.

Alfred watched Ivan the entire time. When the older sat up on the side of the bed he noticed his tight grip on the edge. Alfred smirked to himself . . . Ivan was sore too.

Of course Ivan could move better than Alfred who opted to remain where he was, unmoving for fear of seriously hurting himself. He could already feel the throb start up in his ass and travel all the way up his spine only for the pain to shoot back down to his aching thighs where the joints groaned in protest to any movement, especially after being spread for so long. Alfred didn't know why he consented to this long awaited pent up sexual tension relief. He wanted to regret it, but even he found himself sickly smiling at the feel of the way his body ached from being so pleasurably used—even the feel of Ivan's cum leaking out of his filled insides wasn't as unpleasant anymore, he was still uncomfortable, yes, but he was slowly not minding it now.

Alfred had seized up however when strong arms wrapped around him. When he whipped his head around he realized Ivan was just trying to pick him up. The American really didn't want to be moved, but he nodded his consent and hooked his arm around Ivan's neck to be carried off to the bathroom.

Ivan had never done this for him before. After sex it was vice grip and then sleep—or at least that's the way it used to be. Alfred had expected that, not the shower Ivan had started for him.

The warm water felt nice on his aching joints and limbs. Alfred closed his eyes just to take it all in almost entirely forgetting Ivan had joined him in the shower until he felt his hands on him. Alfred turned his head to look at him, giving him a wary look to mind where his hands touched.

Ivan did, just lathering his hands with soap and wiping his husband's body down. It was very nice of Ivan to do this and Alfred hoped the Russian didn't expect the same treatment in return. Leaning his back against a sturdy form like Ivan's helped relax the younger even more. With Ivan's hands automatically cleansing him and the shower's warm waters hitting his neck and chest and downwards it was all just . . . heaven.

Alfred did shift uncomfortably when he felt Ivan rub between his legs, especially when those inked fingers of his traced around his wide asshole again. Alfred knew he was still leaking spilt juices and he knew the quicker way to get them out properly was to dig in and wipe out. Ivan was offering, just not verbally.

With a groan Alfred turned his head to lay against Ivan's broad shoulder. He nodded his approval and Ivan responded with a small kiss to the top of his head just as soon as his fingers entered him. Alfred winced after the first initial penetration but managed to handle the throb.

Ivan moved his fingers inside him quickly to brush out the major clumps of semen. The brush against Alfred's prostrate was probably accidental . . . as well as the second brush . . . and the third . . . and the fourth. And, like the bastard he was, Ivan was just going to remove those rubbing fingers as if he didn't know what they had done. Not on Alfred's watch.

The American thoroughly surprised his Russian husband when he caught his wrist just as soon as he made to pull his cleansing fingers out. Alfred didn't hold him still either, no, he pushed those fingers back inside of him and searched for that spot they had so innocently brushed against earlier. When he found it Alfred moaned and then began using Ivan's hand as a means to get off.

In and out he pressed those two fingers. His ass was already gapping as is and so Alfred whined for more fingers though he wouldn't verbally demand it at all. Ivan seemed taken aback by the action and unsure of what to think of it. He didn't move much and simply let Alfred have his way with his hand and fingers.

It wasn't until the Russian spied over Alfred's shoulder that he noticed the American's dick coming to life at the stimulation he was putting upon himself. The muffled moans from the younger filled the shower and bathroom and Ivan might have let the boy alone hadn't the sight of him using his hand and fingers for his own pleasure aroused him back to life.

Ivan pressed close to Alfred again. He pulled his fingers out of his stretched entrance and wrist away from Alfred's holding grasp. Alfred's wet hair whipped around when he turned his neck to glare up at Ivan behind him. More so was the American frustrated that Ivan now had a hold of his own hand, refusing to let go despite Alfred's struggles.

Ivan simply leaned his neck over Alfred's shoulder, his face offering the American a sweet rub before his eyes glanced down to take in Alfred's state of arousal. His own gaze enticed the younger to look down and when Alfred did his lips parted at the sight of Ivan's own arousal poking between his legs and rubbing against his scrotum. This made Alfred weak at the knees and the heat from the water did not help his body temperature one bit.

Ivan was delighted to see Alfred's other hand slam against the glass of the shower door to hold his form up and steady. The panting gasps hardened the Russian more and enticed him to rub against the underside of Alfred's cock all the more. When Ivan dipped his free hand down he traced them against the blonde's spine and then between his firm ass cheeks down toward his contracting entrance.

He used the tips of his fingers to circle the stretched muscle before dipping inside slightly. The shudder that shook Alfred's body shook out a moan from his mouth that sounded divine in their echoing bathroom. Ivan fell in love with the sound and decided to hear more by pressing three fingers inside as deep as they could go, and, while Ivan opted to remain at knuckles out, he knew he could press in much farther than that. The Russian shivered at feeling how wide he had stretched what was his.

Everything that was and is Alfred F. Braginsky was property of Ivan Braginsky, just as much as he was property of Alfred. Ivan smirked at the sounds his husband made for him. And, by the looks of it . . . Alfred was wanting what was his.

Well, Ivan would gladly give it to him.

Alfred sighed sadly when those fingers left him only for Ivan's hand to hook under his left knee and raise it to hold in his arm. The American looked up at Ivan when suddenly he felt something press into him. He let out a groan, his head falling back the more of the girth that slid into him. When Alfred looked down he shuddered at watching Ivan's cock slip into him, pressing in until all that was left visible was the ball sack.

Alfred opened his mouth to either moan or scream. The pain and pleasure just clashed so much inside him that he couldn't utter a word. He could only lean his head back against Ivan's shoulder and feel everything. Ivan was slower with him this time, both too sore for their own good yet both seemed equally enthused about this round of shower sex.

The throb from his stretched ass was forgotten when Ivan's thick cock rubbed against the place Alfred wanted it to. He moaned every time Ivan thrust back in. Even more was he fascinated in leaning his head down and watching the shaft disappear inside him only to pull out with leftover cum smeared all over it, soon pushing back inside again.

Alfred felt his only remaining leg on the floor tremble and he nearly slipped when Ivan kicked his ankle to spread him further. When Ivan let go of his wrist Alfred pressed his hand against the tiles of the shower wall, successfully holding himself up as Ivan's freed hand gripped his hip to push him down onto him and give him a better fucking.

They were both groaning. Both knew the other was sore from their previous heist, but they continued to grind, to rub and to bodily beg for more.

Alfred wanted Ivan to touch him so bad. He needed it, but he wouldn't say it and despite his best hints Ivan was lost in concentrating on holding him spread and sinking deeper into his hole. Alfred simply couldn't touch himself, he'd risk losing his secured balance from his grip on the wall and shower door. So he whined to himself and pressed back more, hoping that Ivan's cock alone would get him to finish.

Even when Ivan picked up pace Alfred knew it wouldn't be enough. He needed to be touched so badly. The warm water of his throbbing hot cock was killing him. He needed pressure, he needed a squeeze, he—

"Ivan!" Alfred gasped. The sound of his name echoed throughout the room and he felt the Russian pause a little in his thrusts when he heard his name come out of him for the first time that night. Alfred didn't care anymore, simply didn't. "I-Ivan, touch me! Touch me, please!" Alfred threw his head back with a moan when Ivan slapped his hips against him quite hard and, mmmmm, did it strike dead on against Alfred's prostrate.

No sooner had Alfred begged for this had his wish been granted. His blue eyes looked down to take in the sight of Ivan's large hand wrapping around him, squeezing him at the base before pulling at his skin with pressuring pumps. Now Alfred began bucking his hips into that hand while also grinding back onto the cock he was impaled on.

He was hurting, Alfred knew that much, but damn was he sailing on cloud nine. He was so close to his peek that he could feel himself visibly smiling in anticipation for it. He hadn't known when the hand balancing against the shower door left, but he hadn't fallen over because that hand wrapped its fingers into Ivan's hair behind him and pulled and pulled until he could turn his head and kiss those panting lips.

This kiss was the first Alfred had ever initiated leaving Ivan gapping and wide-eyed. Thank God the shock wore off soon because Ivan pressing back against him and shoving his tongue into his mouth was what finally brought Alfred over the edge. To his surprise he splattered his semen all over the front of the shower—he hadn't known he had that much left in him.

And when his orgasm rocked through him his muscles clenched and gave a reason for Ivan's cock to follow Alfred's in suit. Alfred jumped at the feel of Ivan orgasm inside him, especially at the feel of the amount. Alfred moaned when he felt the cum drip out past Ivan's cock and hummed when he and his husband came down from euphoria together just remaining still and panting in the other's mouth.

When Ivan's hand reached up and caressed the side of Alfred's face the American really didn't know if he was tired or actually willingly rubbing his cheek into the Russian's palm. He decided not to put too much thought into it because the kiss following was sweet and so very full of love.

They ended up falling asleep wet and naked after their failed shower. Alfred nor Ivan had ever slept so soundly since their disastrous turning point in their marital relationship years ago.

Alfred hadn't been too sure on how long he had slept but he woke up feeling groggy and still too tired to remain awake for long. He would have just laid his head down and closed his eyes again for some much needed recuperation hadn't an important thought pushed itself into the forefront of his mind.

"ALEX!" Alfred gasped. After suddenly remembering his child he shot up in bed. Immediately he regretted his rashness and fell back down. Talk about sore!

Didn't matter though. Fuck the pain! This was his child he was talking about. He needed to know if he was okay and . . . oh God what if he had gotten worse while he was sleeping or . . . no, no, he just needed to check on him.

Alfred sat up again, gritting his teeth at the excruciating pain—he didn't remember feeling this sore in years. It wasn't just his ass that was sore, but his arms, fingers, legs, damn even his jaw hurt just to move. He looked toward the bedroom door and suddenly it seemed so far away. He knew he couldn't make it over there and so he whined and fell back onto the bed. He was ready to call out to a servant when the door opened.

Alfred's head shot up. His eyes widened at the sight of Ivan entering, more so at who he was carrying in his arms. It was Alexei. The little boy was still in his pajamas, his face buried into Ivan's shoulder.

"Look who's up, Alexei," Ivan whispered to the child in his arms. His smile seemed endearing and Alfred wondered if Ivan held any sort of feeling for the little guy. By the way he was holding him and that softer look in his gaze Alfred would have to say, "yes."

Alfred's heart melted when he watched the boy turn his face to him. He looked tired but he looked better and finally Alfred could sigh out in relief.

"Daddy," Alexei muttered while Ivan walked closer to Alfred who quickly pulled the covers back over his lower regions for the decency of his child.

"Hey, big guy, you're all better." Alfred reached out and ran his fingers through the boy's hair. Alexei had just a lighter shade of his own hair as well as the same color of his eyes—everywhere else screamed Ivan. "Who's my little fighter, huh?"

Alfred's heart melted at the sight of his little boy smiling. It was a sure sign he was getting better.

"He's still a little hot, but the doctor said he'll recover fully within a day," Ivan mentioned while leaning down to meet Alfred at eyelevel. "We just need to get him fed and watered and bathed. I was going to start with the last. Care to join us?"

A warm bath in their large whirlpool hot tub was just what Alfred needed for his stiff joints. He would have loved to play battleship with Alexei in the water but he was just too sore and so he sat nearby just simply watching. The soft smile ever present on his face despite the surprise in seeing Ivan play with his son. Alfred's never before felt like they had been a family—a mock rendition perhaps, but not a real one. Right now though, it sure felt like it.

Ivan had the boy seated on his lap, both holding toy floating ships and acting as if they were attacking the other. Alexei squealed a few times and splashed his arms around but other than that Alfred could tell he was still a little under the weather. He couldn't wait for the day when his baby was back to a hundred percent.

Alfred jumped forward, his heart racing at the sight of Ivan picking the boy up in his arms and crying out his ship had sunk and rightfully so should the captain go down too. He dunked the child under the bubbling waters and gave Alfred quite a quick scare before Ivan pulled him back out of the waters shortly after with the boy giggling in his arms and splashing more water at his papa. Alfred's nerves settled afterwards and he leaned back, keeping a close eye on the jesting two.

What was Alfred thinking in the first place? Ivan, getting rid of Alexei? Killing his own son? No, not after all the trouble he went through to get him. Plus, Alexei was heir to all of Ivan's fortune and gang-laced empire. He was important to the Braginsky name.

Alfred's frown deepened. Just when he thought his child was safe he had to remember that the boy's father was a mob boss and that when he passed . . . well . . . it all went to Alexei next. The mere thought of his boy turning out like Ivan frightened Alfred. He didn't want that for him. Not at all.

"Papa, no, no!" Alexei squealed when Ivan tried dunking him into the waters again.

"But you are not dead. As captain you must go down with your ship," Ivan explained and attempted to dunk the boy. Alexei simply resisted and flailed through his laughter. "If you kiss me you can come back to life. Come on, give your papa a kiss."

Alexei was quick to be saved from the waters and gave Ivan a sweet kiss on the lips. It was a sweet scene and Alfred smiled at that.

When Alexei pulled away he pouted his lips almost the same way Alfred did. "Am I alive now, papa?" he asked innocently.

Ivan smiled at him before his eyes glanced over toward Alfred. He smiled and then turned back to his son and said, "Not until you give daddy a kiss as well."

Alexei nodded his head and held onto Ivan who leaned over and held the boy out to his other parent. Alfred chuckled and pursed his lips, letting his little man plant a kiss on his mouth before Ivan pulled him away.

"There now, you are back among the living," Ivan declared.

"Yaaay!" And off Alexei went, pushing himself out of Ivan's lap and swimming over toward his other floating toys.

Ivan smiled at the boy, watching him for a moment or two before turning his gaze back toward his husband. Alfred tried to keep his attention on his son but when Ivan slid himself closer and rubbing his hands upon him it was a little hard. So, Alfred sighed and looked up at Ivan who looked slightly concerned for his state in the present.

"How are you feeling? Still sore?" Ivan asked.

Alfred only hummed his response, pressing back into the soothing motion of the bubbles against his spine. His gaze left that of Alexei's playing manner for a while to glance at his husband. "You don't look the least affected."

Ivan chuckled and Alfred could feel his hand slipping against the small of his back, rubbing gently. He was now sitting right next to him with his arms practically wrapped around him. When Ivan leaned down his breath tickled Alfred's ear. "I am plenty sore, dorogoy. An ever pleasant reminder of the one I love."

Alfred groaned out a moan when Ivan leaned his head further and place a kiss against his hickey-laden neck. He sighed when Ivan pulled away and leaned his cheek against the top of his head, now both parents watching their child splash around to prove his recovery.

So many thoughts were going off in Alfred's mind right then. Firstly had to be that of his relationship with Ivan. He wondered if they were going to go back to how they were—before his affair. He wasn't quite sure what he thought about that but all too soon the thoughts of his child came to mind just as the little boy let out a cough and gave up on his toys if only to swim over to his daddy and sit himself on his lap to rest peacefully.

Alfred was going to run his fingers through his hair like he usually did if Ivan hadn't beaten him to it. It was strange, because he knew Ivan hated kids—perhaps Alexei was a different case entirely. So, Alfred just wrapped his arm around his boy's waist and held him close against his chest.

"It won't be long before he starts school, da?" Alfred heard Ivan think out loud. The American nodded in agreement, now his thoughts going to how Alexei was going to be schooled. Sometimes Alfred wondered if Ivan could read his mind, he sure spoke about things he was on the same wave-length as. "I want him homeschooled first. I will send for tutors and when he is big enough he will be presented." Alfred was certain Ivan was speaking about Alexei being shown off to his "friends" like he had been shown off years ago when he and Ivan were dating. "He'll be sent to a good boarding school in Moscow. It is where I learned many good things." Alfred swallowed, he didn't like the idea of sending his child away for so long with no one to protect him but supposedly loyal lackeys. "When he graduates he will go to a prestigious college and make the Braginsky name proud. I know he will."

If Alexei hadn't existed then Alfred had contemplated on just running—to see how far he got. Now that the boy was very much a part of his life he felt it his duty to stay, to try to train into him some good so the bad blood of the Braginskys didn't come out. Alfred was afraid of that the most—afraid of his little baby turning into a murderer like his papa and predecessors.

Fifteen more years was a good number to stay, only until Alexei became an adult and could make reasonable decisions for himself.

Alfred felt Ivan shift beside him, he pinched his chin and turned him to him. When Alfred looked into those violet eyes the man smiled. When he leaned down and kissed him all previous thoughts and plans devised in Alfred's mind were wiped clean.

He might stay longer than fifteen years.

When Alfred felt Ivan move again he noticed him touching his hand, raising it and splaying his fingers before he slid something onto his finger. Alfred pulled away and opened his eyes to look and see that Ivan had slipped on his old wedding band—he remembered throwing this worthless thing at Ivan during a large heated argument early on in the stages of their crumbling relationship some five plus years ago. He watched Ivan take his hand and bring it to his mouth, kissing the golden studded band before smiling and pressing his hand against his cheek affectionately.

Ivan then leaned over again, taking Alfred's lips with his own and kissing him deep with little Alexei resting against the American's chest.

Yeah. Alfred was probably going to be staying with Ivan for a long time.