Raivis could never quite understand why Ivan called him beautiful, and it exhausted his mind to even try.

The mirrors in the large mansion offered no help; they only displayed for him a pale, shuddering, underweight Latvian with wispy hair and watery eyes. It displayed for him what he knew was what he was; the very essence of true cowardice and vulnerability.

His own eyes weren't of any assistance either, for as he stood in the shower and examined his body, he found nothing but disappointing things to ridicule. He had bruises from the most ridiculous things, like on his shoulders from brushing into the walls or on his ankles for standing too long, and scars in odd places-like just above his genitals-from things, he was ashamed say, he couldn't recall in the slightest.

Raivis knew he was next to nothing, a tiny country without the ideals nor the firepower to influence anyone else, and he knew the Russian knew it as well.

So where could Ivan possibly find the urge to call him beautiful?

~ * ~

Ivan could never quite understand why Raivis believed himself to be ugly.

His little Latvian subordinate had skin with the texture of porcelain, the warmth of fire, and the color of a delicious cream, dotted with places of a rosy pink hue here and there. His body seemed to have been sculpted by a master artist, like the ones who used to decorate Veneziano's home. He was perfectly cut in every since and had no natural imperfections. He was symmetrical and angelic; his body was perfect.

However, it was Raivis' eyes that captivated Ivan the most. Their shining clarity and shimmering texture were unmatched by any country he'd ever met, and their coloring reminded him of a recently-shined amethyst stone. He felt that Raivis' eyes were priceless, things to be treasured beyond anything else.

But in a way, Ivan could see why Raivis was so unaware of his own beauty. In short, Raivis could not see himself through Ivan's eyes.

Raivis could not see himself fully nude, eagle-spread beneath Ivan's body. He couldn't see himself trembling with heat, nor could he see his own half-lidded eyes and violently mussed hair. He couldn't see his skin saturated in sweat and other bodily fluids, slick in the dim light and tantalizingly tasty-looking.

Raivis couldn't see his own face lost in the thrill of orgasm.

~ * ~

'So, perhaps that is why…' Ivan thought to himself as he pounded in and out of his young lover, imprinting the shape of his body into the mattress once more, '…why he cannot bear to call himself beautiful.'