A/N: So I wrote this one shot for a few reasons. My multi-chapter story still hasn't provided the pure smut aspect of this relationship yet, and won't for awhile. Second, I was reading up and watching youtube videos on Dark!America. It caught my interest a bit. I wanted to try to write Dark!America. I am not sure if it came out exactly correct. I feel like I more portrayed Alfred's crack of sanity moment, but I feel that's partially what Dark!America is...slightly insane. I also am pretty positive that in my multichapter fic, Russia will be on top. I wanted to write something different, since we don't see that much of it. So this is Amerus. Warning: Yaoi (my first full written scene), smut, historical references, bondage, and force. If you find any of this offensive, please do not read.

This is set during the Red Scare.

Italic mean it's spoken in Russian.

1950

Ivan sat in his temporary office for the World Summit. He quite disliked these World Summits. He was glad they merely lasted for a week. If he had to see the capitalist pig ingest one more of those disgusting burgers he might lose his composure and start this nuclear war. His gloved hand fisted in discomfort. He tried to be polite to the idiot, but every action gnawed under his skin. He had never met such a selfish inconsiderate person in his life. Ivan forced himself to smile to calm his anger. He pulled out his vodka from the desk and unscrewed the lid. America would run himself into the ground with his wrong ways. In that extent, Ivan did not even have to lift up a thumb. Though, he would have no problem helping poor North Korea from the oppressing boy. The Soviet Union, after all, loved to offer the helping hand to those who believed in the pure ideals of communism. He brought the bottle to his lips and took a large swig. The familiar burn felt nice along his throat. Vodka was his constant in this ever-changing world. He took another swig.

There was a knock at the door.

Ivan eyed it cautiously. His paranoia had increased in the recent years. He never knew what the boy could be truly planning, but it was probably only China. Oh friendly, China. China understood him. "Come in," he said to the door, as he placed the bottle on top of the table.

The door slammed opened, hitting hard against the wall to reveal an angry blond in a full white uniform. The anger, though, was not the same type of anger the boy usually gave. It wasn't screaming or shouting. No, it was a deathly calm that Ivan was certain he had only seen. Ivan pushed himself up from his chair, placing his dark blue uniform hat back on top of his head. "Ah, Hello America," he said politely.

The American walked in slowly. His eyes glanced around the room out of caution, but always landing on Russia. The badges that lathered the American's uniform were almost two bright and contradicting with the pure white fabric. It was disgusting how Americans felt the need to brag about everything. "Do you think I am stupid?" the capitalist pig asked with an edge to his voice.

Ivan smiled kindly. An interesting question, did he think America was stupid? He walked around his desk towards the American. Ivan radiated his own personal anger. He thought America was a lot of things, but within the last ten years America had proven to him time and time again that he was far more intelligent then he let other's perceived. "Stupid, you say? Nyet. I feel the words selfish, naïve, careless, and ignorant, are much better descriptors," he informed. He stopped walking. America and Russia stood only a foot apart. Ivan folded his hands behind his back causally. He enjoyed being taller then America. He did see the world at a higher level, but something felt different as he looked down at America. He almost felt taller then he usually did. Odd.

America glared at him through those clear glasses, but then he smirked. The motion caused Ivan's smile to falter for only a second. He hated that smirk. It meant the boy thought he was in the power position. America stepped closer with his hand pointing at him in an accusatory fashion. "Did you really believe I would not find you're little spy ring? Using my own people against me, that's disgusting," he said coldly.

Ivan couldn't help his smile from broadening. "How are the Rosenbergs?" he asked. America could not get mad at him for asking a friendly question. He watched America's hand turn into a fist. It appeared like he might punch. Go ahead, America. If you make the first move then I have all right to return. He would have enjoyed this feeling more if the weight of his uniform hadn't felt so heavy on his shoulders. He felt like he might fall back, but he held himself up tall.

America brought his fist down to his side. "They will be sitting on death row soon," America informed without even a blink of an eye, "One less communist traitor will make this world brighter."

The boy was sick, but weren't they all? Ivan had lost his sanity long ago. His new boss was slowly breaking the rest of it. The boy in front of him seemed to be going through the first stage. "How unfortunate," Ivan began, his eyes closing as they felt too heavy to open, "At least we finished it in time for them to see." Ivan knew he didn't have to describe what 'it' was. They both understood that the Soviet Union had exploded their first nuclear weapon last year.

America let out a growl, or at least it sounded something similar to a grow. The boy then sighed. "You couldn't have just let it be. I wasn't planning on attacking you. I wasn't planning on ever using that weapon again. You just had to be a power hungry monster," America said in an exhausted voice. Ivan couldn't see him though. His eyes were closed as he swayed back and forth. What was happening? He was loosing control of his body. He couldn't even argue with the boy. The boy was wrong after all. He was lying. Ivan only made the weapon to protect himself.

"What did you do?" the words softly left Ivan's lips. What ever was happening to him had to be the American's fault. It always was the American's fault.

He knew America was smirking, even though he couldn't see him. There was a certain sound America made when he smirked. "I poured heavy sedatives into your vodka. Do you really believe you're the only one who knows how to spy?" America let out a laugh before Ivan felt a palm push against his chest.

Ivan couldn't hold himself up any longer. With the strong push, he easily fell to the ground. The pain of the ground was completely numbed as all consciousness left him.

Ivan felt like a rock was in his head and some small man was banging against the inside of his skull. He let out an annoyed groan, as he attempted to move his hand to his forehead. His hand didn't move. He forced it again and felt something constricting it. What? His mind slowly pieced together what could possibly be occurring. Then memories of how he came to state hit him like a wall. His heavy eyelids snapped opened to see white.

"Oh good you woke up sooner then I thought," he heard the familiar voice that made Ivan grind his teeth together. He whipped his head to the voice to see the brat in causal jeans and a white tee shirt. He settled for a calm glare before deciding to take a longer look at his surroundings.

"You underestimate me, so I find that not surprising," he stated causally as he looked over the white brick room. He knew this was one of America's secret facilities. His intelligence had informed him of the basic appearance of them. They had only managed to located three, but he assumed America had more. There was a metal door, obviously locked. It appeared two heavy to kick down, but Ivan was strong. He then glanced at himself. He was still in his uniform, sitting in a metal chair. Chains. He was chained to the chair. He smirked. America was being quite cautious, wasn't he?

"Underestimate you?" America repeated with a scoff, "I poured the whole bottle into your vodka. But you're a big guy, should have done three."

Ivan tested his chains by moving his arm. It barely caused the chain to shake. What was this? It appeared his strength had been somewhat depleted. He tried the chairs at his legs. He couldn't break through those either.

"Dude, you're not going anywhere. My military created this unique little drug that seems to only effect nations," America said causally as he walked towards him.

Ivan let out a sigh before looking up at the blond. "Amerika, what is the point of this? You do realize this could be considered an action of war?" he explained. As much as he despised the American, he did not wish to actively go to war against him. Amerika still outnumbered him in weapons. He wouldn't for long, but he did now. Before Ivan could actually attack he had to be certain he could win.

"This is being fair," America snapped as he folded his arms a crossed his chest, "This isn't about your country versus mine…though mine is better. This is about you and me. I am only putting us back on equal terms."

Ivan looked at America with a deadpan expression. His violet eyes glanced over his feature with indifference. America made little sense most of the time. Fair for what? And what did the boy plan to do? Beat him? This was the first time in a long time that Ivan couldn't even hold his smile. His lips stayed in a firm line as he spoke. "There is no such thing as fair," he muttered, disgusted by the term, "But please do inform me on how you plan on settling your insecurities."

A second after the words left his mouth he felt the barrel of a pistol on his forehead. His eyes locked with America's blue ones. They were cold and heartless, such a different emotion from what the boy usually showed. How easily war could change people. "You are going to shoot me, Amerika?" he asked, his smile returning to his lips. Even if the bullet went through his head, Ivan wouldn't die. It would be painful, but he wouldn't die. "Pull the trigger then, so I can get back to my business," he finished.

The boy stayed quiet for a time. His lips in a straight thoughtful line as the barrel stayed firmly pressed on Ivan's forehead. The barrel then left his head. Ivan almost let out a giggle, but held back the urge. The boy was a coward after all. He could never pull the trigger. He had all the power. He had the world given to him on a silver spoon, but he could never use it like a man. Ivan was different. Ivan had to work for it, but he had no problem making those difficult decisions. Capitalist are lazy creatures. He then felt his head yanked back by America's free hand. He winced by reflex as America leaned over his form on the chair. "If I shot you the fun would be over. We can't have that now, can we," America said in a calm statement, "Especially since I want you to feel how it felt when you took something good and turned it against me." America pulled harder on his hair. Ivan almost felt like it was going to be ripped out. "You're doing it to me now. You turn my people against me. I feel it. It feels like a black hole consuming my very core. So many communist within my land. McCarthy wants to go through everyone one by one, but I know that's not the problem. Even if we did, you would only corrupt more. There will always be that darkness."

Ivan glared at the American as he heard the reasoning. It was foolish of America to blame him. Whether he was around or not, all people would realize the benefits of communism and leave his disgusting dream. It was only a matter of time. Marx had proved that. "Darkness is a misleading statement. Maybe you are finally growing a brain," he answered with the same coldness in his tone. He knew he wasn't in the position for snide comments, but Ivan would not be turned into a weak person because America had tied him to a chair.

America smirked, which actually caused a low feeling of nervousness to settle in his stomach. America leaned closer until he could feel America's breath against his ear. "You can decide for yourself," he whispered.

Ivan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the statement, but America's hand had already left his hair and he had moved behind him. Ivan found his head falling as he stared at the door across from him. "Amerika, you're personal issues are odd and interesting, but I don't particularly care. You are being foolish. Now let me leave before I decide to retaliate," Ivan informed the boy. He was getting sick of this. He didn't particularly enjoy being bonded nor taunted by a brat.

He heard laughter from behind him. It caused Ivan's hand to fist in annoyance. The boy truly had lost his mind. "Retaliate? Don't make me laugh. I have realized something. You're afraid of me just as much as I'm afraid of you. It's like what you tell kids about spiders. But you know what makes us different? I always face my fears cause that's what heroes do," he said and before Ivan could remark he felt something hard slam into the back of his chair forcing it over.

With the chains he couldn't even catch himself as his face went straight to the floor. The pig had kicked him over! His check landed roughly with the white tile floor as well as his knees. "Damn capitalist pig!" he growled out as the pain went through his body. He had lost all of his calmness. He was absolutely furious. He would kill America. He would use his few nuclear weapons and wipe the man out. He would not know what happened until he got the ten second warning. The killer thoughts calmed his mind, and he retook his anger under control.

"Did that hurt?" America asked in a condescending tone.

Ivan couldn't see the boy who stood behind him. He merely glared at the floor as he once again attempted to break through the chains. "Amerika, I will repeat so your thick head can understand. You are very foolish," he stated calmly even though his anger was at an all time high.

"No," America answered, "I just understand what is fair and right." He heard the footsteps and then stopped right behind him.

Ivan scoffed. Truly foolish. Ivan learned a long time ago that there was no such thing as right and wrong. He knew life was grey, just like the clouds that rolled over his country. His thoughts stopped when he felt something in between his thighs. He forced his head to look back. His check slid against the tile to see America gripping the bottom of his metal chair. Was he planning to flip him over again? Not very creative America. America's foot pressed onto the chair leg. Alfred heard a crunch a metal far to close to his own foot. He then heard more then saw America rip the bottom of the metal chair off from the two legs attached to Ivan's legs. He couldn't even enjoy the limited amount of freedom he had gained with the action because he was too in awe of America's raw strength. He had heard England go on and on about the boy lifting a buffalo when he was a toddler. He never believed until this instant. The metal must have felt like paper to him.

America tossed the metal off in the corner. Ivan decided he needed to focus. His arms were still attached to the armrest, which was attached to the back of the chair and the chairs two legs. He could possible use the freedom of the unattached metal back to move, but he still would not have freedom of his limbs. Damn, America. He managed to destroy the chair, but still keep him in his place. In the back of his mind something was gnawing at him. A little voice saying that this wasn't right, there is something wrong here. He ignored it. He shifted his hips and felt himself almost lose balance. He pulled himself back into this awkward kneeling position he was in. His face pressed to the ground and his butt high in the air.

A finger slipped into the waistband of his slacks under his jacket.

Ivan blinked. "What are you doing, Amerika?" he asked, his voice revealing just the tinge bit of nervousness. No, the boy would never do that. He preached right and wrong…he couldn't actually believe that such an action was right. The small voice started shouting at him, remind him of the past. No, be quiet, Ivan thought roughly. He would not experience that weakness ever again. America was not about to do that.

His pants and underwear were pulled down to his knees. "Thought I already told ya. I'm makin' us even," America informed as if talking about the whether. "You've been inside me and raped my people of all the good in their hearts. It's fair."

Ivan's eyes opened the size of saucers and his face showed true horror for the first time in centuries. He struggled immediately against his bonds. None broke. He was trapped. He tried to roll over to the side, but America grabbed onto the back of the chair holding his body in his current position. "Amerika, I don't know what has happened to you, but you have gone insane," he said in a slight panic.

A finger grazed along his skin and dipped between his cheeks. "Yes, possibly, but who is the cause of that?" the boy asked before pushing his first finger far inside of him. The movement caused Ivan to bite his lip to hold back the pained noise he wanted to make. He was doing this dry. This could not be happening again. No. No. No.

"All I have done is protect myself," Ivan choked out as America's finger wiggled inside of him, pulling his tight muscle one way and another. It hurt just as much as he remembered.

"From me?" America laughed, "I wouldn't have hurt ya, ya know." He paused then let out another short laugh, "Well…I guess you just created a self full-filling prophecy. You wanted me a bad guy, you got me as a bad guy." America shoved another finger into him, causing Ivan's gloved hands to fist and his body to clench.

"I hate you," he mumbled out in Russian, trying to control the edge of tears. His mind kept flashing back to his childhood, to the large man who entered him without warning. He was supposed to be powerful. He was supposed to be able to stop this from ever happening to him again.

"I hate you too," America responded perfectly with his slight accent. He knew Russian. "I won't lie though. I have always found you quite attractive. We're so similar yet so different. You always felt like my equal. Hell sometimes I have to push myself to catch up with you." He put in a third finger, which finally caused Ivan to let out a yelp. "You really should stop clenching cause I can either force it in or stretch ya out."

"Just stop," Ivan mumbled slightly defeated as he felt the fingers push in and out of him in a slow rhythmic flow. He was certain that some bleeding had started to happen because they were moving in easier. "You don't have to become like me," he said in a last hopes effort. America had his sanity. America had his dreams. America was pure. These were the strange reasons that Ivan had always been attractive to the boy. Not anymore though. All he saw was pure darkness. America had cracked somewhere during World War and now. He had saw the signs of it right before he took down Japan, but he never thought America would become like this.

"It's far too late for that," America said pushing his finger's deeper hitting something deep inside of him. Ivan felt a moan escape his mouth as pleasure flooded through his body. His soft length came to life at that one touch. He heard America's smirk, "If I am going to be crazy I am glad to know that I will be with you on the other side." He hit the spot again causing Ivan's hands to flinch as the pleasure took over him.

"Fuck," he muttered. Ivan didn't know what he was feeling. It felt good. It felt invasive. No, just stop. Please. The fingers moved faster and continued to hit that spot. He tried to move any of his body, but he was trapped against the metal. He felt like he was about to reach this limit. The fingers pulled out and he was left with a strange emptiness.

A tear slipped down his cheek. It felt like emotional torture. He never wanted this to happen again, yet he was enjoying it. "Make it hurt. Please make it hurt," he said far to weakly. When had he become so weak? When had he been unable to stand up for himself?

"No," America said, as he took off his shirt. Ivan only saw the white fall on the ground. The crumbling jeans followed it. He didn't look up. He wouldn't. "Pain makes me evil. I am not evil. I am doing what is fair. Look at me." America voice pleaded. Ivan only kept his eyes shut. America would pay for this. He would pay. He didn't care if the boy had lost his mind. He did not do this to Russia...to the Soviet Union!

"Look at me," America repeated firmly in English. He still kept his eyes close. He would not listen to the capitalist pig. A hand gripped in his hair and painfully lifted it up, causing his neck to hit awkwardly with the metal chair's rim. His eyes were forced open in the process and they locked with America's. The blue that used to be so bright all those years ago, to the dark it was a few hours ago, held a different color. It looked almost grayish as sadness dipped around them. He was sad. He would not feel pity for him. He made this decision. "This is what is right. You were inside me so I will be inside you," he said with a serious straight face. The cross and military tags around his neck contradicted everything in this moment. This was not morally correct or honorable. How did America not see this? But wasn't everything with America a contradiction of himself? America then gave him a small smile. It wasn't his full grin or a smirk. It seemed genuine, and it made Ivan more nervous then he already was. "Watch me as I enter," America stated, his grip in his hair loosening.

Ivan wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to be anywhere, but here. He wanted sunflowers. Ivan couldn't close his eyes. They stayed locked on America's large length. With his weird positioning and the chair, he couldn't see it fully. He watched as America moved his length towards his entrance. He watched as it pushed between his cheeks. He felt it sit there and the warmth radiating off of it. He once thought that warmth was the sign of the sun. No, America was not the sun. Then, without warning, America slammed his full length inside of him. Ivan pulled against the hand in his hair painfully as he was overcome with pain in his lower region. He had not been stretched in such a way for centuries. It felt too large, and he desperately wanted to push it out. America had let out a deep moan, his hands leaving Ivan's hair. He stayed inside of Ivan for an unbearable amount for time. Ivan felt his muscle flex against the presence.

"You're so tight," America mumbled out in a half whisper. Ivan couldn't respond anymore. He had given up. He no longer had control of this situation. He only knew he would have control of the future.

America began to move. He slowly pulled out so only the tip of his length was at the entrance before burying himself deep again inside of him. Ivan bit his lips as the pain continued. The pace started off slow as the boy entered him at different angles trying to find that ahh

Ivan moaned as America hit that spot. He felt his erection stand firmly as America increased his speed against that point. Ivan's wrists rubbed against the chains as he tried to control the shaking pleasure in his body. The boy only gripped his hips, rubbing soft circles with his thumb on Ivan's smooth skin. He continued to rock back and forth into the larger nation. Ivan couldn't control his hips. They were under America's grip. America moved him to match each one of his thrusts. Each time, it felt like America got deeper and deeper inside of him. The image was disgusting, yet it felt so good. Ivan had not felt this type of pleasure before. Oh…ugh…he felt so close. His back arched against the chair allowing him to push his ass further up against America. The America used that as a hint to increase his speed and pushed deeper against his spot.

Uh..wo..uu…he couldn't event he word the pleasure as it came out in stifled moans. He was so…ah….he lost his seed all over the contents of the floor, which included his beautiful military jacket that was pressed against the tiles. America felt Ivan clenched around him and with one more deep thrust, Ivan felt his inside feel with America.

America stayed inside Ivan for an uncomfortable time. The only sound was their heavy breathing. Eventually America pulled out, and Ivan winced as he felt a liquid substance drip down his leg. He heard America shifting into clothing. "I will make sure you have a reason to fear me, after this," Ivan said softly to the tile. His eyes never left the white floor.

"You can't do anything, Soviet," America said. Ivan felt something grip his pants and yank them back up above him butt. For some reason the simple act being clothed, settled his rising panic. His anger, however, was on full swing. "You can't go to war with me unless you want the majority of your people to die," he informed.

"If the world is on my side then I will win. After they hear what you've become, they will all join me," Ivan stated in a sinister voice of his native tongue.

America laughed, "Do you really think they will believe you? As far as I am concern, South Korea went a bit overboard and drugged your vodka. I talked some since into him and managed to bring you back in once piece. Which story do you think the world will take?" America pulled on his shirt.

Ivan glared at the tile. America was right. They wouldn't believe him. They all thought Ivan was insane. They never considered America. Ivan would have to rely on himself. He would defeat America himself. He would become stronger and make more weapons. He would surpass America. He did not need the world. He just needed to beat America.

He heard footsteps to the door. The boy was leaving. "You are not a hero," he said in English as the boy's back. America's hand stopped at the doorknob. He continued to stare at it like Ivan's words had frozen him.

"I don't think this type of world can have heroes," America said softly. He then pressed in the code and opened the door. He wouldn't have thought anything more of it, if America hadn't of glanced back for only a moment to reveal the tearstain that had ran down his cheek.