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10 August 2010 @ 02:52 pm
WE DID IT!  

Already finished yesterday, actually, after about nine hours of non-stop writing. We conquered the time difference, the format, everything! Can't believe it all started with one random idea to RP Raikov as Alice in Wonderland. ANYWAY. The crazy author team is proud to present...

Title: Ivan in Wonderland
Authors: adrikyn & oudeteron *waves*, illustration by adrikyn
Pairings: Raikov/Volgin, Ocelot/Raikov
Rating: Mild R
Summary: Ivan falls down the elusive rabbit hole, but his experience of the unpredictable Wonderland turns out to be more faithful to his daily life than he'd have expected. Only a tad bit more colourful.
Warnings: Crack, crack, random references to Hiimdaisy's comics, crack. Also jizz.
Disclaimer: We own nothing you recognize. Our only reward shall be the juicy nightmares of our readers.


Ivan in Wonderland
Ivan in Wonderland


Raikov was usually a pretty observant man, being a soldier and an artist. He'd decided to take a stroll around the quarters of Groznyj Grad today, thumbs looped on the belt around his waist. It was a sunny day, a nice day, the perfect kind of day to pick on maggots and balding scientists~! He'd even spotted his first target; smirking silently he stalked over, just within arm's reach, fingers about to grasp his comrade's collar—when the ground fell out from underneath him.

Tumbling down into oblivion he wasn't even sure when he'd become clothed in a blue, aproned dress, or when his boots and pants turned into black heels and stockings. Either way Raikov's dress was a parachute down a mismatched shaft of misplaced objects. He landed delicately on the ground not five minutes later, befuddled.

He looked around the strange landscape, then fingered the hem of his dress. What was the meaning of all this, he was not some Victorian girl! And how was he going to explain his lack of uniform when he made it back to the fortress?

Before he could finish that trail of thought, however, he noticed a figure in the distance. It gradually came closer, until Raikov was able to distinguish it as Granin—or rather, Granin wearing a ridiculous hat. And drinking whiskey out of china teacups.

"HO BOY!" the grotesque scientist, or probably not a scientist here, called out to Raikov. "May I—" he hiccuped, "interest you in a TEA PARTY on this glorious day?"

"No," Raikov gave a mean look, his upper lip curling. He pushed past Granin and looked for a door, a way out. Not much, just a bottle of pills that said "EAT ME" on the label. When the drunkard came too close Ivan nearly let out a hiss, "Get away from me, you slob," before vaulting himself across the table, easily sliding on the smooth fabric of his dress to the other side.

"Tell me how to get out of here or I'll have you killed." Most likely an empty threat. Ivan turned the bottle over in his hands—I wonder what these are for?

“Killed..?" Granin shot back lazily. "You're absurd, boy. We are not killed here—only mad."

Raikov's gaze darted around, from the bottle of pills to the table and back, feverish. He had not expected such a calm response; after all, wasn't Granin his subordinate? He was so having the drunk fart eat it when they got back to Groznyj Grad.

"Look," he tried to reason with the man instead, "I really need to get out of here. I'm already—oh, fine, I'm running late for a sundae night with the Colonel. You don't want to know what he'll do if I don't show up, so please..."

Granin smiled, a drunken grin if any. "Why don't you eat those and find out?" A laugh, short and hoarse, and Raikov picked up a fork throwing it at the old man's head. It stuck in his skull like a pick in an afro and Ivan was caught between smiling in delight and a look of sheer horror as the man hardly seemed to notice the blow.

Well, at least he stopped talking, was one positive thought. Those pills again; he read the label over and over as if something other than large, ugly, generic blue comic sans would appear. Nothing.

"Well, those who never take chances never advance in life! Or some bullshit like that. It says 'EAT ME' so I'm sure it's fine," he downed three and waited.

Nothing happened for a while, which was already enough to make him feel unsettled. But it wasn't long before that feeling turned into something else entirely, and Raikov gasped at the realization what it was. This...tingling...in his crotch...no friggin' way that was what the pills did...

Granin seemed disturbingly amused. "Well how about it now," he slurred, "pretty boy?"

"N-no way," Raikov was starting to stutter a little, staring in horror at the front of his skirt. No amount of ridiculous frills would obscure the fact that he was excited, to put it in polite terms appropriate for the era. And no, that era was not the sixties.

Raikov stood up suddenly, pulling down the front of his dress in a vain attempt to hide his shame. Oh no, oh nonono—he'd taken THREE of those things. One glance at Granin had him fleeing across the room, oddly bowlegged. That man was out for booty he didn't plan on giving up.

A door. Ivan grabbed the handle and flung it open. There was nothing on the other side but a milky white ocean, which he tumbled into headfirst. Somewhere off in the distance Ivan could have sworn he heard Granin shout, "Thar he blows!" His booming laughter echoed in the pale Russian's ears as he let the waves carry him.

Off, off, floating down the ocean's tide. Ivan found himself on the shore of a dark forest, dress riding up all the way to his back. He was out cold.

When he came to his senses once again, he saw a strange cloud on the horizon that he knew he should be alarmed about, but somehow no heat-wave or fallout was reaching him. He found himself hoping fervently that Volgin had none of his favourite weapons at his disposal just yet, that all the talk he'd been hearing about an incoming American agent and her "gifts" for the Colonel would turn out to be mere fabrication.

A rustle interrupted his worries, causing Raikov to leap to his feet. He swooned immediately afterwards, though, vision clouding with static. Screwing his eyes shut as if that would help to block the sensation out, he prepared to hit the sodden ground—but the dreaded impact never came. Instead, he found that he was being held up by somebody. The good news was that as far as Raikov could tell without taking a proper look, this lean stranger was not Granin.

A soft, rumbling purr echoed just under Raikov's chin, a face pressed softly against his neck. "Hello, Ivan~"

"How do you know—"

"I know everything," something soft brushed against Ivan's lips and he dared to open his eyes.
It was Ocelot. Ocelot in a cat suit, tight in all the right places and an off shade of purple. Striped, but that was hardly the most unusual bit about him; no, that award most definitely went to the ears perched atop his head, and the tail curving out from his spine. The man was taking his codename to literal proportions.

"Ocelot, what the hell are you doing?"

"Ocelot? Hah! No, that's Major Cheshire to you, little, dearest Vanya," his tone became mocking and Ivan settled him with a nasty look. "Lost little pet, what are you doing out here~? You don't belong here..." sing-songy now, "we're all straight here~ like circles."

Ivan all but burst into laughter, "PFFFT! Yeah right, hahahaHAHA! You're about as straight as Volgin on a date with me!"

A deadpan stare, and Ocelot arched an eyebrow, "You miss the contradiction, little Ivan."

"Do I now?" Raikov huffed. "Well, maybe it would be easier for me to pick up on fine details IF I HADN'T JUST BEEN WASHED OUT OF A SEA OF CUM."

Ocelot ignored the complaint with an enlightened monarch's magnanimity. Cat-like behaviour, indeed, thought Raikov irritably. He was so annoyed that he didn't even notice where Ocelot's hand had sneaked off to until it was too late.

"And what do we have here, little Vanya? I had no idea that swim of yours got you so excited."

"That was NOT—" his retort was cut short when Ocelot carelessly ruffled the frills still managing to cover Raikov's crotch. Ivan hissed.

Ocelot purred.

"Have no fear," the purple major cooed, "I have a pretty good idea what's got you into this state. Perhaps I can help you relieve it?"

Intrigued by the offer though he might have been, Raikov was too busy being appalled and huffy to accept it. He yanked his dress away and re-concealed himself while a flush crept to his cheeks. "I don't want your stupid help. You smell like cat poop. Go back to your litter box, Pussycat."

Ocelot let out an indignant snort, turning his nose; his tail flicked at the offensive comment. "WELL then, maybe I won't help you. Haha~" A pointy grin of razor sharp teeth spread across his face, impossibly wide and impossibly bright. "You'll just have to tough it out like a big boy, now won't you, Vanya?" Slowly his body became more and more translucent.

Ivan went bug-eyed, staring through Major Pussycat's dispersing figure. "What—hey—wait! You can't leave me here like this, you stupid cat!" He grabbed Ocelot's hand, pulling him forward. "Show me how to get out of here!!"

"Theee~ caaaa~sstllee~," he sung, ending with a purr and finally an ominous chuckle as all that was left was the grin hovering in air.

"Oh no you don't," Raikov all but growled. "I don't care how invisible you are, you are helping me out of this mess even if I have to drag you."

A gust of air brushed Raikov's cheek. "Stop it, idiot! You're ruining my exit!"

"What exit?" Raikov laughed. "You wanna make an exit, don't leave your stupid grin floating in mid-air. I'm sorry if you expected a Victorian schoolgirl, but I'm not playing naive just to indulge your silly fantasies."

Ocelot yanked at Ivan's hand, hard. "FANTASIES! You think this is a fantasy? Fine, then, have it your way." And with that, the invisible Ocelot wriggled his hand free.

Raikov whirled around, but there was no more grin in sight. He could almost hear the crickets chirp. "Well, that's just great. I'm sure I'll find that castle in no time."

Ivan's fists balled at his sides like a spoiled schoolgirl's as he stomped off in a no-name direction. The forest seemed to tower over him, eerie shadows at every angle. Try as he might, he found himself becoming more and more nervous as the light of the shore lessened behind him.

"Woohoo...okay...castle, haha...um..." he couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him now. "Lookin' for the castle~," he sang, nerves now vocal. There was a crunch of leaves to his left and he spun round, reaching for a gun he didn't have. "O-okay Ocelot, if that's you—you better...stop it..." all was silent.

"Oh, no, that's my microfilm!"
"No, it's mine! I worked on this disguise for ages to infiltrate the castle, so it's MINE!"
"Mine!"
"Mine!"

Two women were fighting just through the trees; being as sneaky as possible Ivan crept over, keeping low to the ground so he could listen.

"Mine!"
"Mine!"

They tugged and they pulled, like children over the last calorie mate. One wore a distracting (Ivan supposed, if you were into that kind of thing) jumpsuit with the top unzipped, while the other had a modest women's army uniform, hair pulled back into a ponytail and glasses set neatly on her face. The exposed one gave a great tug, sending a small square of film into the air—landing squarely on Raikov's head.

Both women turned to the Russian, advancing at the same pace and bumping their hips together.

"You!"
"Oh you, you have the legacy!"
"Give it back or we'll take it back!"

Ivan looked frantically to either side of him, "What, hey—I—Tatyana, is that you?" He didn't get an answer, unless being violently tugged over by the ear counted as an answer. "Ow, you stupid bitch, let me—AH!" The other shoved a tube of lipstick in his eye and he squinted, bleary-eyed through the pain.

"Where did you put it?"
"That was mine!"
"No, it was mine!"

Again they bickered as Ivan squirmed in an attempt to escape, but the blonde's grip was wrought-iron.
"It's very important, you see, so if you have it you better give it back."

"What are you talking about?" Ivan stammered, backing away from the two of them, hoping he wasn't going to trip over a root. "Just look at me—does it look like I have this...Legacy thing on me? Where would I even hide it?"

Tatyana fixed him with an serious stare from beyond her spectacles. "You wouldn't believe how many hiding places the human body offers. And we might just have to explore them all, should you insist on being so uncooperative."

Raikov paled. That asshole Ocelot, if only he hadn't vanished none of this would have happened. Why, yes, it was a tad bit comforting to deflect the blame to someone else.

Worse yet, Eva seemed to agree with her doppelgänger for once. "Well then, dear Alice, let me..."

"W-what the hell is this Legacy anyway?" Raikov blurted out as they both approached, desperate to stall for time. Maybe if he got them talking, they'd get distracted enough for him to run away.

"Oh, you don't know?"
"He doesn't know!" the bespectacled one gasped, grabbing her lookalike by the arm. Their hips bumped together again as they stepped forward, synchronized.
"It's such a sad story."
"So sad."

Eva procured a suitcase containing a radio and clicked the dial on, letting the sound of static fill the air. Ivan froze, the imagery immersing him as though he had water in his lungs.

"Sad times, Mr. Raikov. The Kingdom of Red and the Kingdom of Black were at each others throats like the Walrus to the oyster."
"Mmm..."
"Shh! This isn't the time, Eva!"

Ivan squinted as the illusion faltered for a moment, but thick mist still covered his eyes.

"The Kingdom of Black, the Spades and the Clovers, formed a pact—money, for war. Unlimited in its expenses, enough to fund and project, and desire: if you could imagine it then it could be done."
"They were the Freecell, and corruption turning them inside out, they turned on each other like the walrus on the carpenter. Manipulation was key."
"King Boris Volgin grubbed the legacy for himself while the other Freecell withered away like plants left out in the sun--"
"Or oysters--"
"Shh!"

Ivan blinked again, shaking his head.

"This film...the one you're hiding—"
"I'm not—" he sputtered.
"Shh!"
"This film is the key to all that money. And we need it."

Tatyana smiled sweetly, her glasses glinting as the fog seemed to disperse and the radio static dulled down. Eva stepped forward and pulled a glove over her hand, snapping the latex.

"So bend over."

Ivan stammered incredulously, but Eva had already grabbed and bent him over the nearest fallen tree-trunk. "No, don't!" he cried, but his assailants just cackled. Oh, and gave his exposed behind a slap for good measure.

"Here we go," Tatyana muttered.

Out of nowhere, though, the already eerie forest was engulfed in another kind of mist. This development was so strange that it caused even Raikov's ruthless captors to pause and glance about. Not that Ivan could see that, considering his face was buried in rotting tree bark.

"Sad..." a voice whispered, low at first but gradually filling the very air with its presence, "so sad... A host of sorrows..."

"Who the hell?" Eva and Tatyana exclaimed in rare unison.

"Like you, I too am filled with sorrow...
This world is one of sadness...
Money breeds greed...
Greed brings sorrow..."

"What is this, some emo song lyric?" Tatyana snapped, shaking her head. "We have no time for this nonsense. Quick, Eva, hold him down!"

But just then, a blood-curdling scream that made even Raikov jump up resounded through the vicinity. Eva was staring at something in the mist, pointing with a shaky hand, eyes wide. Following the path she indicated, Ivan saw a man's figure floating silently not three meters from where they were standing.

He was stricken with a terror of his own, but the figure simply pointed to the east, unmoving, a sad smile on his lips. Ivan, figuring he had nothing else to go on, took Tatyana's momentary distraction to his advantage; he pushed himself over the tree trunk, landing face-first in the mud on the other side. His legs kicked helplessly in the air for a moment, pantaloons shamelessly flashed to the world before he managed to right himself. Sputtering in disgust as he caught his breath, wiping bits of gunk off his face, a glint of something inorganic caught his eye—a small film? The Legacy. He snatched it, and without a second thought raced through the forest, east.

Ivan ran until his legs threatened to give out, finally stopping to take a breath, chest heaving while he hunched over, hands on his knees. "Whew...that was a close one. Heh," he pulled the small film out, wiping off some of the drying mud. "But now that I've got THIS I'll be rich! Oh, Zhenya will be so happy... Maybe we can go on a romantic outing together, or buy a house filled with cupcakes!" He twirled, holding the precious film to his heart. Now that he was on the right track, it was only a matter of time before he reached the castle and his dear Yevgeny.

That was when that ominous chuckle brushed passed his ear, quickly followed by the materialization of a purple Cheshire. "I see you're on the right track now, little Vanya. Took you long enough...and to think, you needed outside help like that," he scoffed, "I would have liked to see what Tatyana and Eva would have done to you had they not found the Legacy in your hole." A devious smirk followed by an arm slinking its way over Ivan's shoulders, which only managed to earn a grimace from the boy himself.

"If you like them so much, why don't you let them shove their fists up your ass, Pussycat."

Ocelot threw his head back in mocking laughter, reaching a hand down to flip Ivan's dress up. "Still having this problem? Maybe there's a reason you're in these woods, huh?"

Ivan punched his fellow Major in the gut, clearing the way for his escape. The castle was so close he could practically smell it...or maybe that was something else.

"Say, Ocelot, what's supposed to be in this castle anyway?" Raikov asked when he felt somewhat secure in Ocelot's lack of interest in making further advances, allowing him to walk side-by-side again. It wasn't like he didn't want to know, after all - just that these constant distractions were doing nothing to keep his mind on the goal. Not to mention they were quite traumatizing. I mean, seriously, saved from a fist in my ass by a floating man...

"Well, you'd better meet the Queen," Ocelot replied, "play a little croquet, stay for the celebration, and then you may ask nicely for permission to leave. Nothing barbaric."

Ivan snorted. He took his orders from the Colonel, not some pompous aristocrat who ruled from beside a jizz lake. Irritated, he took his anger out on his companion. "That must mean a lot, coming from you. How long will all this take?"

"I don't know. The Queen has time when the Queen has time."

"Really."

"What, afraid you might grow old and wrinkled, little Vanya?" Ocelot laughed, patting him on the shoulder inconsiderately. "That would make for quite the extreme way to solve your stiff lil' problem."

Raikov gave a long-suffering sigh, unwilling to bother with this conversation any longer. Sooner or later they'd reach this castle, and then whatever ruler resided there would meet a force to be reckoned with.

The journey was taking longer than expected, and Ivan was getting hungry. His stomach let out a low rumble of complaint, urging him to eat. He grumbled in return, speaking the stomach's language.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he stopped to lean against a tree. There was no way around it; Ivan needed to eat. His stamina was low. It was too bad he couldn't eat Ocelot, the stupid, irritating bastard.
Well, enough waiting was enough! Ivan searched around, getting his hands on a sturdy stick; it was time to hunt. He crept into the forest, keeping an eye out for any prey. It wasn't long before he found it, either.

Out in a surprisingly open, dead-looking field there was a swarm of what seemed to be, well...hamsters. Ivan stepped closer, trying his best to be silent as he approached the mass of those wiggling furry creatures. Much to his dismay a twig snapped under his foot, and they all stopped short, turning to look at him.

"Ah..."

Not good.

Not good....NOT GOOD. They charged at him in an angry wave of fluffy terror, and Ivan swung his stick frantically in the air, knocking them back only for them to explode into rations upon impact. The carnage was great, but in the end Ivan stood victorious, a week's worth of rations beneath his feet.

Of course, it was more like a meal's worth to Ivan.

As he sat there feasting, he didn't pay the slightest mind to Ocelot, who seemed determined to prevent Ivan from enjoying his well-earned dinner, or lunch, or whatever this place would classify it as. What was that oversized plush toy thinking—that Ivan would let him steal his food?

Once he'd devoured most of the rations, he at last turned to Ocelot, whose expression was, for some reason, mortified. "What?" Raikov demanded. "You didn't think I was going to share, did you?"

Ocelot shuffled his feet and swished his tail wildly, the epitome of cracking nerves. "Ivan..." he said in a kind of imploring tone Raikov would never have suspected he could produce, "those hamsters were POISONOUS."

Ivan's expression went from smug to terrified in an instant. "Wha...what? Why—why didn't you say something?!" He stood up, limbs shaking all over. God knows how much he'd eaten, he'd die for sure!

"I'll die for sure!" he shouted, grabbing the kitty-cat by the collar desperately.

Ocelot just shook his head, a rather mournful look on his face. He'd been sort of fond of the boy, after all; he was fun to pick on.

"D-don't just stand there being silent now! What's the antidote?!"

"You'll just have to wait it out and see, little Vanya," he mumbled, turning on his stealth camouflage, but instead of a grin there was only a pitying frown.

Ivan's hands slipped from their each other, and he looked down at the ground. It was only a matter of time. The world was already swirling beneath his feet, white, oh, so white! No, he mustn't go towards the light, but it was so bright, calling to him and—"AUUUGHHPPHH?!"

Suddenly the forest was flooded with a viscous white liquid—"Cum again?!"—and Ivan was swept off his feet and dragged upstream.

He awoke again, feet in the air and the front of his dress over half his face. Exposed, on a shore, with an older woman in a dress of spades and clovers leering down at him.

"What the... where am I?" Ivan mumbled groggily.

The woman beside him, as he was coming to realize with increasing panic, could be none other than the Queen herself. Much as she wasn't Raikov's type, he could tell at the first glance that she deserved more credit than he had given her before. Aside from the ostentatious gown, she even looked quite civil: her hair was held back by a plain bandana with no crown in sight. Raikov couldn't help staring up at her.

Except he was being rather creepy, gawking mutely like that. Eventually, he managed a greeting. "Hello, your—uh, Majesty?" He tried to get up, but just kept slipping. Why was everything so friggin' slimy?

The Queen gave him a once-over, assessing the damage. "You have cum in your hair."

The Boss of Understatement, apparently. Brilliant.

"Yeah, I—uh...ate some poisonous hamsters and everything's sort of a blur after that, my head really hur—" The Queen held a hand up, silencing the babbling blond.

"Care for a game of Croquet?"

"Ah—...right, Ocelot was telling me about this..." he mumbled more to himself than to the Queen, thinking it over. "Will I be able to see the King after the, ah...celebration?"

"Perhaps." Such a simple answer left so much to be questioned. Just as Ivan was about to reply, a pair of long rabbit ears and a pocket watch floated over, quickly followed by the materialization of Ivan's favourite punching bag. Ocelot.

"My, my, little Ivan. Aren't you late. I suppose a run in with gut-wrenchingly poisonous rodents will do that to a queer. Better hurry...the King won't be here all day. First thing in the morning he'll leave and never return!"

The Queen ripped the fake ears and pocket watch off of Ocelot's thin frame, snapping them both in half.

"Go to your room, you're punished."

"But—but Mom, I—"

"Go."

Ocelot pouted, sulking off into transparency as he shuffled away, tail dragging along the clean-cut lawn.

"Hah—hahahaa!" Ivan rolled over, shooting an amused grin at the Queen. Said grin was quick to vanish at her stern look. "Right, croquet. Let's...uh...go."

*


Once Raikov was all cleaned up and fitted with a nice, fancy Spade dress, it was time to play. He was in utter disbelief at first, being handed a flamingo with the head of a balding, monocled Russian who would whine in terror whenever you merely looked at him, but that disbelief was soon replaced with sheer, unadulterated joy at the idea of whacking his head against more of those damned poisonous hamsters. Ivan couldn't wait.

The game, as it turned out, was pure agony. Not only was Ivan forbidden to win, he was also forbidden to derive any pleasure whatsoever out of this. All right, he wasn't, but that did nothing to relieve his boredom.

He hit one of his balls with a half-assed stroke for what felt like the millionth time, but somehow the hit ended up tipping the score in his favour! He had no idea how he'd achieved this, although the intensely disapproving frown on the Queen's face informed him that he would do well to resolve that mystery, and soon.

When he was scrambling away from the field some time later, it was obvious that his attempts had failed.

He vaulted over several inconveniently placed fences, and scorned his way through an entire white Rose bush (getting himself covered in that same sticky goop again) before coming to a terrifying dead end. He was cornered. The Queen, three very disgruntled henchmen, and one terrified flamingo-man stared him down. "L-listen, I, I wasn't even trying, I swear—I didn't mean to win!!"

"Silence! Off with his head!"

"No—no, I like my head, it's too pretty to be guillotined off!" Raikov turned around, clawing at the wall frantically as the group closed in on him.

Then, suddenly, there was a thunderous boom, and a nearby rose bush burst into flames. Oh, and the King strolled over, giving the Queen a peculiar look. "What are you doing to our guest?"

"Our guest?!" thundered the Queen, "I don't remember him being your guest. I was the one who took him in and washed his cum-covered face and gave him fresh clothes, so if I want him executed then it's my own damn call!"

Ivan trembled in terrified anticipation, but eyeing the newcomer for prolonged instances had at least managed to refill his psyche gauge a little. The King was a handsome man, even if a little on the bulky side—okay, maybe "a little" was an understatement. Either way, Ivan found him most appealing.

"So this is what those who you rescue have in store," he shot back venomously. "Jeez, I know we're only 'married' to pacify the public and you'd rather ride off on that horse of yours and never come back, but are you that determined to ruin the reputation of our kingdom?"

"Don't even try it, darling," said the Queen, "you just hope you can get into his garments before the day is out. Do you know what, you can have him. As long as you take him FAR away from me!" With that, she turned on her heel in a flash of royal fury and strode off.

Ivan watched as the Queen left, her henchmen scurrying off in her wake. He looked back up at the handsome stranger, eyes sparkling, the cum dripping down his face. "You saved me..."

"Of course I did," the King smiled, cupping Ivan's small chin in his hand. "Oh... what's this?" he reached over, grabbing Ivan's crotch.

"Ah! Oh, I...took some pills that said Eat m—" Ivan fell silent, staring, feeling that hand on his crotch. It was like butterflies in his stomach. Realization came over him: he'd always been bad at recognizing faces, even ones as unique as Volgin's was. But give him a break, those clothes had really thrown him off!

"Uh..."

"Hm...?

"YEVGENY!" He nearly jumped into the other man's arms, wrapping his legs around him and nuzzling his chest. "I missed you so much—I, I..." Ivan burst into tears, rambling on about the trials he'd gone through to get here. About the hamsters, about Ocelot, about Granin and the sea of cum and the scary Tatyanas in the forest. All the while Volgin smiled approvingly, carrying Ivan off to the castle gates.

"So, Ivan," the King said once they'd made it inside the splendid castle, "since you've endured such torment today, you decide how this should go down. Is there anything—"

"Go down," said Ivan impishly, "indeed."

Volgin understood immediately and wasted no time. He dropped to his knees on the marble floor, his cloak spreading out like some sort of aura, and before Ivan knew it his skirt was hitched up. He was really starting to lose it now. How long had it been since he'd taken those bloody pills—how many agonizing hours? This just should not have been possible. When Volgin's lips parted to take him inside, he barely managed to retain enough control not to come on the spot.

His hands itched to stroke Volgin's hair, but that familiar gesture was as good as impossible with that overblown crown perched on the man's head. But Ivan wanted his comfort. After this insane day, he deserved it. And so he reached for the offending headpiece, lifted it with his shaking hands, and tossed it onto some discarded cushion he noticed from the corner of his eye like he would an uninteresting magazine. Yes, this was better. Resting his hands at last on Volgin's head, Ivan cried out in pleasure.

For his part, the King didn't even notice he had been dethroned.

And then Ivan felt himself falling—a trap door?! Everything turned to tunnel vision, his dress winding around him like a sheet. Twisting and turning he fought with it, trying to climb back to the surface, trying to call out his dearest Yevgeny's name, but it was useless. Darkness.

Ivan sat up on the floor by his bed, out of breath and panting. His sheets were wet, tangled around him, the last bits of his dream still buzzing through his mind. It took a moment for his mind to sober up and for the situation to really sink in.

Why hello again, Groznyj Grad. Ivan made a face at the ruined bedding.

"What...what kind of wet dream was THAT?!"

 
 
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Alice in Slaughterhouse: do epic shitmijeli on August 10th, 2010 04:40 pm (UTC)
Fuck, I wish I knew this fandom ;)

Either way - AWESOME JOB !!11one
See you later, instigator: Gigaville - coffeeoudeteron on August 10th, 2010 11:36 pm (UTC)
You will sooner or later, mwahaha.

AND THANKS! ♥
✩ Lex: → that's classified informationsparkism on August 10th, 2010 11:05 pm (UTC)
ahahaha that was epic. especially the last line. oh goodness, poor Raikov. xD and that drawing is adorable!
See you later, instigator: Ocelot - Winky Heartoudeteron on August 10th, 2010 11:37 pm (UTC)
Glad you enjoyed! My partner in crime will be pleased to hear you pointed out his contributions in particular. :D
✩ Lex: → mccreeperfacesparkism on August 10th, 2010 11:48 pm (UTC)
I think it's really hard not to enjoy anything involving Raikov in a dress.
See you later, instigator: Johnny Weir - heat upoudeteron on August 11th, 2010 04:48 pm (UTC)
GOOD POINT.