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A gentle pant left Alfred as he felt his internal temperature rise, his body giving an involuntary jerk as he sat infront of his ac. Shit. He’d been feverish ever since summer hit, and it only seemed to be getting worse as the season drew on.
Matthew had been having a hell of a time breathing with all the fires, Francis had reached the highest temperature he’d ever experienced and consequently spent most of his time in the water, and even Arthur had been a miserable bastard about the heat. Alfred couldn’t blame him, though. It was fucking hot. Even if the damn Brit was only experiencing the heat he endured during spring.
A gentle knock came from his door before a soft voice followed from the other side.
“Alfred, how are you holding up, da?”
Russia.
It was rare for Ivan to see him unprompted, but even rarer for the Slav to visit during the summer. Alfred pushed himself upright, feeling the sweat that had gathered along his hairline roll down his neck.
“I’m dying, dude!”
He swung the door open and immediately felt like someone had turned an air conditioner directly onto his face.
Alfred nearly sagged.
“Oh my god.”
Ivan stood on the other side, bundled up as though it were the middle of winter, his scarf still tucked neatly around his neck despite the heat outside.
“You look terrible, solnyshko.” Ivan purred.
“Wow, thanks for the compliment.” Alfred chucked to himself.
“You are sweating through your shirt.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”
Ivan’s smile was small, but there was something undeniably fond about it. He reached out and pressed the back of his hand against Alfred’s forehead.
Alfred shivered.
“Jesus Christ, you’re cold.”
“I am always cold, da.”
“Yeah, well, right now you’re basically a walking refrigerator.”
“Mm. Then perhaps you should keep me around.”
Alfred stared at him. If he could get any redder, he would have. But the heat took care of that for him. Ivan’s smile grew, the knowing bastard.
“What? I am telling the truth, businka”
“No, it was—” Alfred stopped, rubbing his face. “Just get in here, please, I’m dying.”
So of. course Ivan stepped inside.
The difference was immediate, if that was possible.
Alfred’s breathing slowly began to settle as he followed him, hovering close enough that he could feel the chill radiating from Ivan’s body. It was strange. Ivan shouldn’t have felt like this. No person should have been this cold. Well, no one should be this hot either.
With a limp movement, Alfred inched closer. Fuck.
Ivan glanced down.
“Alfred?”
“Fuck, you’re so cold..”
“Yes, I’m aware, Amerika.”
Alfred couldn’t resist anymore. The overheated American pressed himself against Ivan’s side, practically melting into the ice block of a man.
“Holy s.. shit,”
Ivan’s arm came around his shoulders.
The sudden cold made Alfred jerk, a shudder running through him before he instinctively curled closer.
“Too cold, da?”
“No- no, not at all, just unfamiliar.” Alfred’s voice came muffled against his shoulder. “This is amazing, dude..”
Ivan began to talk, but he seemed to fade into the background. His heartbeat began to slow, feeling semi normal again, fingers loosely lipping the front of Ivan’s coat.
After a moment, Ivan gently rubbed his back.
“Poor little American,” he murmured. “So warm.”
Alfred’s eyes opened, but stayed half lidded as he comprehended the tallers words “..shuddup brah, I’m not little.”
“You are little right now.” Ivan looked unbearably pleased with himself. “I could tuck you right into my coat pocket like a kitten.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yes.”
“And I hate you.”
“Of course.” He could see how Alfred tucked further. How he hadn’t seen him this quiet before. So much at someone else’s mercy.
Ivan was quiet for a moment. Something felt strange. Alfred was always warm, but with the heatwave his body was almost burning against him. It was foreign, uncomfortable at first, but the longer Alfred stayed pressed against him, the more Ivan began to feel warmth spreading through his own body.
It was strange. Foreign. He knew snow, he knew ice and liquor and war, not warmth from another man.
Ivan was supposed to be cold.
Yet here he was, feeling his own temperature slowly rise from having Alfred so close.
“You’re making me warm, Alfred.”
Alfred lifted his head, broken out of his daze. “..wait, seriously?”
“Da. I don’t think I like it.”
“You’re full of shit.”
Ivan smiled, his hand gently moving up Alfred’s back. “Perhaps I am.”
Alfred rolled his eyes, but didn’t move away. If anything, he seemed to settle further against him, his forehead resting against Ivan’s shoulder.
“Well, I’m not moving.”
“I assumed.” Ivan couldn’t help the small smile that formed. Alfred was still unbearably hot, but somehow Ivan found himself enjoying it. There was something comforting about feeling the warmth of another person against him, especially when it was Alfred.
Alfred suddenly looked up at him.
“What?” Ivan said, eyes soft as he took in Alfred’s frame.
“Nothing.” He replied, seemingly unable to come up with a comeback, or an excuse.
“You’re looking at me weird.”
“Am I not allowed to look at you?”
“Not like that.”
Ivan tilted his head, his expression becoming almost amused. “Like what?”
Alfred opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“…I don’t know.”
Ivan didn’t tease him. He simply leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against Alfred’s lips. And as if something lit inside Alfred, he returned it with a burning intensity. (no pun intended.)
He’s never seen Ivan loose his composure. He’s been stoic, or at least avoidant during his adult years. But Alfred heard him whine, actually whine at the sudden hot intrusion in his mouth.
And before Ivan could say anything, he was on his back, scarf pulled off as hot kisses littered his neck.
“Fuck, Ivan, never been with someone this hot before?” Alfred chuckled, beginning to unbutton Ivan’s shinel, revealing his undershirt.
Ivan shook his head as he weakly felt his erection rise. “N- no, ah- haven’t been with..”
Alfred finished for him, that shit eating grim still plastered on his face. “With anyone? You a virgin, Braginski?”
Ivan felt his heart pound. He couldn’t muster up the courage to correct him. It was true. When you intimidate everyone you’re around, you’re not desired by many.
Alfred caught onto the larger man’s non-response. “Don’t worry man, let me teach you!”
As if it was the most casual thing in the world, Alfred began stripping Ivan. His black tee was removed, exposing his sculpted broad pecs and the tummy that poked over his waistband.
Then, Alfred motioned for Ivan to do the same for him. His hands shook as he breathed out a warm breath, hands lifting up the loose tank top that barely covered anything. Then his pants.
Before you knew it, they were both naked. Ivan was flipped on his back, Alfred on top of him, biting and kissing at his lukewarm skin. It was magical how they were the same temperature now.
“Y, you, hff, want this, dude? You want me inside you?” Alfred panted out, cock bobbing against Ivan.
He could only simply nod, back arched as felt his thighs shake, ass in the air in a way he hadn’t experienced before. Ivan felt a cold squirt of lube around his hole, and a finger that worked its way in. His knees buckled, hole immediately clenching around the Americans finger.
“Hey, hey, shh, sorry, I should’ve warned you, you’re okay big guy.” Alfred cooed, immediately rubbing his shoulder with his free hand. “I just need to loosen you up, okay? So nothing tears.”
“D- da, okay,” Russia muttered out, a little weaker than anticipated. And he buckled again, feeling his finger begin to slide in and out. Then a second. Once a third one was easily able to slide in and out, Alfred slid himself in.
Ivan’s breath hitched in his throat as the fingers withdrew, leaving a sudden, aching emptiness behind. But the void didn’t last long. Alfred shifted his weight, his thighs settling firmly between Ivan’s, and the blunt head of his length pressed against Ivan’s entrance.
The initial stretch made Ivan gasp, his large hands immediately flying up to grip Alfred’s broad shoulders, his nails digging into the damp skin.
“Alfred, da, wait—” Ivan whimpered, his head tossing back against the mattress.
“I’ve got you, big guy, just breathe,” Alfred panted, though his own voice was tight with restraint. He didn’t push in all at once.
He held himself steady, slowly letting his weight sink down, burying himself inch by agonizing inch into Ivan’s tight, welcoming heat.
Ivan’s eyes flew open, blown out and glassy with tears as his body adjusted to the sheer fullness of the American inside him. He felt stretched to his absolute limit, a deep, heavy ache blooming in his lower abdomen. But as Alfred finally bottomed out, a profound, shuddering sigh left Ivan’s lips. The friction of their bodies meeting generated a localized explosion of heat, melting away the last remnants of Ivan’s perpetual winter.
“You good?” Alfred whispered, his blue eyes intense, searching Ivan’s face for any sign of real pain. His cocky grin was gone, replaced by a raw, genuine focus. “Ivan. Look at me.”
Ivan looked up, his chest heaving. “Da… gospodin… please.”
That broke whatever restraint Alfred had left.
Alfred began to move, pulling back slowly before driving back in with a firm, deliberate thrust. Ivan let out a loud, uncharacteristic cry, his hips stuttering upward instinctively to meet the blow. The sound only fueled Alfred. He locked his hands with Ivan’s, pinning them to the bed as he established a rhythmic, bruising pace.
The sound of their skin slapping together, wet and heavy with sweat, filled the quiet room. Every time Alfred pushed deep, he clipped a sensitive spot inside Ivan that made the larger man’s toes curl and his back arch completely off the sheets.
“Ah! Alfred—Alfred, wait, it is too much, I am—!” Ivan stammered, completely overwhelmed by the friction, his accent thickening into a breathless slur.
“It’s not too much, you’re doing perfect,” Alfred growled, his teeth grazing over Ivan’s jawline, leaving hot trails of saliva. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, shallower, and harder, targeting that sweet spot relentlessly. “F-fuck, Ivan, you feel so good. You’re so tight.”
Ivan was completely undone. The stoic, terrifying northern giant was gone; in his place was a man weeping softly into Alfred’s shoulder, his thighs shaking uncontrollably as he was thoroughly mastered.
The coldness he had carried for centuries had completely dissolved, replaced by a burning, molten pleasure that centered right where they were joined.
He could feel his own slick length leaking against his belly, completely ignored, while Alfred’s body dictated the entire universe.
“I’m gonna—Ivan, I’m close,” Alfred choked out, his muscles locking up, his pace becoming frantic and uncoordinated as he neared the edge. He buried his face in Ivan’s neck, inhaling the faint scent of winter and wool that still clung to him.
“Together,” Ivan pleaded, his fingers breaking free of Alfred’s grip to wrap around the American’s lower back, pulling him down as hard as he could, wanting to absorb every bit of the heat. “Please, Alfred, inside me, fill me up—”
With a final, deep drive, Alfred groaned loudly, his body stiffening as he came inside Ivan, a hot wave of release flooding the Russian’s tight walls. The sheer intensity of the internal heat triggered Ivan’s own climax.
Without even touching himself, Ivan cried out, his hips jerking violently as he spent across his own chest and Alfred’s stomach, his hole clamping down hard around Alfred’s twitching length in a series of intense, pulsing spasms.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the air conditioner across the room and their own ragged, synchronized breathing.
With a soft groan, Alfred collapsed forward, burying his face directly into the crook of Ivan’s neck. He was completely spent, his limbs heavy and limp as he draped his upper body over the Russian's broad chest like a golden retriever that had run too many laps in the sun.
He didn’t care that they were both sticky, overheated, and covered in a messy mix of sweat and spent release. He just wanted to stay exactly where he was.
Ivan let out a breathles, muffled huff as Alfred’s deadweight settled over him, but he didn't push him off. Instead, his long fingers slowly worked their way up to Alfred’s head, gently carding through the damp, messy blonde strands.
The heat radiating between them should have been suffocating, especially to a nation born of permafrost and biting blizzards.
But as Ivan stared up at the ceiling, feeling the steady, solid thump of Alfred’s heartbeat pressing directly against his own, he realized something foreign. The burning sensation wasn't suffocating at all. For the first time in centuries, the warmth actually felt nice.
Alfred stirred slightly, a weak, smug little grin pulling at the corner of his lips as he felt Ivan’s hand in his hair.
He rolled his head to the side, his voice a gravelly, breathless whisper. "Hey... Ivan?"
"Da, Alfred?"
"You're totally a liar." Alfred chuckled, his chest vibrating against Ivan's. "You said you didn't think you liked the heat. But you were making some pretty loud noises for a guy who wasn't enjoying himself."
Ivan’s hand froze in Alfred's hair for a fraction of a second. A deep, prominent flush rushed to his cheeks, painting the bridge of his nose a vivid pink.
He tried to pull his usual stoic mask back into place, but his voice gave him away, carrying a distinctly embarrassed edge.
"I was merely... adapting to the climate," Ivan murmured defensively, turning his head away to hide his face. "If you continue to tease me, Amerika, I will open the window and throw you straight out into the heatwave."
"Oh, come on, you wouldn't do that to your favorite hero," Alfred teased, though he didn't have the energy to lift his head, instead tightening his arms around Ivan's waist and hugging him closer. "Besides, you'd miss me too much. Look at you, you're basically using me as a blanket."
Ivan huffed, looking back down at the blonde head resting so trustingly against his collarbone. He could easily push him away. He was bigger, stronger, and entirely capable of reclaiming his space. Yet, his fingers slowly resumed their gentle path through Alfred's hair, smoothing down the stubborn cowlick that refused to stay flat.
"Perhaps," Ivan whispered softly into the quiet room, his small smile returning, genuine and entirely fond. "But only because you’re in the middle of a heatwave, solnyshko."
Alfred let out a contented hum, closing his eyes as the cool air from the unit across the room finally began to circulate over their tangled bodies. The summer outside was still blazing, but right here on the bed, the temperature between them was perfect.