Hetalia Sideblog

"Oh."

"And fit."

Alfred felt himself blush. "Well, I do work out."

"I can tell. You're clearly filled with vanity."

The blush shifted from infatuated pink to infuriated red. Alfred's retorts stuck in his throat.

"So will you allow me this honor? I need to map out the logistics for my next book."

"You mean the smut you write." Maybe Alfred just wanted to offend him back, but Ivan nodded, seemingly unfazed. Alfred's shoulders slumped, voice more dazed than enthusiastic. "Sure, man. Why not?"

"Perfect."

"When?"

"Now would be ideal."

Before Alfred could consider any danger, he found himself being ushered into the erotica author's modest home. It smelled of cinnamon, of baked goods, of safety. Home.

Not of barely planned bondage.

And yet when Ivan took him into the living room, aside from cozy sofas and arm chairs with plush pillow decor, Alfred could see several lengths of rope, chains, and other sexual paraphernalia he hardly knew how to identify.

Alfred gulped. "You knew I'd say yes?" Or did he normally decorate like this?

"You seem curious. I thought it smart to be prepared for the best case."

"My saying yes is best case?"

"Oh, absolutely." Ivan picked up some of the rope. "I need to perfect this scene and your help will be of the utmost importance. I do not want to write subpar—smut? You called it smut, yes?"

"I mean, I'm sure it's really good smut."

"You're sure? You have never read?"

Alfred didn't know how to answer that. When he'd first met Ivan, and found out his career, of course he'd gone onto Amazon to see what sort of work he published. And of course he'd bought out his entire catalogue.

And of course he'd masturbated furiously to it over the length of the weekend it took him to consume the 7 books currently out on the market.

"I mean, I've skimmed," He finally said.

Ivan smiled. It was too knowing a smile. Alfred shifted from foot to foot, then started to shrug off his bomber jacket.

"Do I need to, like, take off my clothes, or-"

"However is most comfortable for you."

None of this was comfortable for Alfred. He stared at Ivan, and Ivan's expression softened.

"You can keep your clothes on," He said, a bit more clearly. "I'll simply work around them."

"Oh. Okay." Why did he feel almost disappointed by that?

Ivan started with his arms, directing them behind his back and looping them together. He seemed unsatisfied, readjusting a few times, before he finally started to bind them fully. Alfred felt his shoulders roll into a more accommodating position, as Ivan looped length after length of rope.

"Who taught you how to tie like this?" Alfred asked. "Do they have Boy Scouts in Russia?"

Ivan laughed softly. "I had a mentor, when I was in my early 20s."

"How old are you?"

"Not in my early 20s."

"Yeah, I gathered that. But how old-" He gasped as the rope dug in, completing his helpless position.

Ivan dropped down to his knees, beginning to use another length of rope to start binding up his legs. "Does it matter?"

"I guess not. I'm just making small talk."

"Maybe I should test gags on you too. It's not like you're in any position to stop me."

Maybe that should have been menacing. Alfred simply rolled his eyes. "When I was in my early 20s, I was taking chemistry classes and learning how to flirt with seniors. Not learning bondage."

"And how old are you?" Ivan mocked. "Your mid 20s now?"

"I…yeah, I guess. I'm 24—hey, wait, why did I answer? You didn't answer me."

"You have a very submissive nature." Ivan's tone sounded jovial, but Alfred burned red all the same.

"I do not!"

"I am the professional here, I think I would know."

"And I've been myself for twenty four years, I think I would know best actually."

Ivan finished binding Alfred's ankles firmly together. "You're going to honestly lie to me in my own home?"

"I'll do whatever I want, pal. Except, apparently, walk away. So who was this mentor of yours? Houdini?"

Ivan picked Alfred up, throwing him over his shoulder. The feeling was almost magical, until he deposited him onto his stomach upon the couch. Alfred grunted a little, turning his face to try to look at Ivan, but Ivan was already starting to hog tie him, binding his bound ankles and wrists together. "This would be easier without the clothes," He said. Sweat had started to collect on Ivan's forehead, but Alfred didn't know if this was from excitement or from heavy lifting.

It was embarrassing either way, or perhaps Alfred's own mixed emotions would only allow him to acknowledge the embarrassment aspect. Other lengths of rope began to go around his midsection. Alfred suspected these were to help support his weight, to keep him from hurting himself once he suspended from the hooks currently stabbed into Ivan's ceiling.

"Well, you should have had your boyfriend help you."

"I have no boyfriend."

"No literary guys showing interest?"

"I'm more interested in boys who know chemistry and like to flirt with seniors."

The flirtation wasn't lost on Alfred. He bit his lip for just a moment, turning his face towards the pillow on the couch, before he said breathlessly, "Well-"

But Ivan was already lifting him again. This time, he started hiking the ends of the ropes to the ceiling. "I should have utilized some of the chains as well," He grunted from the weight of Alfred. But somehow, someway he managed to suspend him all the same, Alfred's weight danging from the ceiling hooks and the ropes spread about his body.

He stared at the ground, body swaying just slightly back and forth. Alfred's heart pounded, as Ivan moved away, grabbing a notebook off his coffee table. He watched as Ivan began scribbling some notes into it, looking up at him occasionally, before returning to his writing.

"Did…did I help?" Alfred managed to ask.

"Oh yes," Ivan said, looking down at his own writing and adding a few more lines. "Your body has marvelous heft to it. It will translate well to my prose."

"Oh. Good to, uh, good to hear it." Alfred wriggled against the rope, not so much to free himself, but just test if he was able to. He didn't think he could, at least not without thoroughly destroying the other's ceiling in the process. He sighed, letting himself hang limp for a moment. "Now what?"

"Now I'm going to grab myself a drink. You are fine waiting here, yes?"

Alfred stared as Ivan started to walk away. "I guess I don't really have a—hey, wait, you're not really just going to leave me here, right? Ivan? Ivan??"

Ivan had already left the room, but at the calls of his name, he did peek back in. "Yes?"

"I mean, this seems like a waste to just-"

"What did you have in mind?"

"I mean, surely you need more research than—I mean, your books usually go a lot harder than-"

"Ah. So you have read."

"I skimmed," Alfred repeated.

"You're a fan," Ivan teased.

"I'm—look. I mean, I'm here, you're here, we have the ropes already, why not…you know…"

Ivan's smile was unreadable. "I may be able to utilize you for further research," He finally relented. And then started to walk away. "After my drink."

"How long are you going to leave me up here?"

"As long as it takes."