Pairing: RoChu
Rating: R-18
Summary: "You're not porcelain, you're not delicate," Ivan panted in his ears, "You're mine."

---

He was feminine in both his looks and demeanor. Quiet and unassuming with his delicate face, people often assumed he was a woman.

Hush, you're wrong. Yao's a man!

Despite the truth spilling out like ink on canvas, it was hard to see the Chinese as anything but female. They were blinded by his long, silk hair framing the ever soft, ethereal face. It didn't help that he was small, his body supple and smooth to the touch. He lacked the curves of a woman, yes, but he was such a slender man it made no difference. His footsteps were dainty, small and soundless, but his hips swayed with his every step. Man or not, he elicited an image of an ideal lover.

In the sunlight, he glowed with youthful health. When the sun set and the moon rose, in the moonlight his skin turned translucent like snow. Like a dream, like the wings of a butterfly, touch him and it seemed like he would break.

A doll made of glass, he needed gentle care, a feather light hand. Careful, careful, they whispered. He's fragile, brittle, and frail. A little pressure, a little crack on that unmarred skin and he would shatter into tiny broken pieces.

A scream echoed loudly in the starless night sky. Arching his swan like neck, Yao screamed again as Ivan shoved another finger into his entrance.

Watching the petite man toss and turn beneath him with no escape, Ivan couldn't help but grin sadistically. With no preparation or care, he began spreading the tight muscle wrapped around his fingers like velvet.  He pulled out, painfully slow- heard Yao's cry- and thrust his fingers back in with a laugh.

Yao sobbed, his hips involuntarily pushing back against Ivan's invasion. The pressuring was building, fire licked up his legs. Ivan crooked his fingers, hitting a sensitive spot inside him. His back arched off the bed, a hoarse scream coming from his abused throat. His vision tunneled until all he saw was darkness.

Seconds which felt like eternity, he was lost in limbo. His mind floated among the clouds and he felt weightless. Slowly, euphoria began to dissipate and he was returning to his body, but before he had the chance to come back, to find himself, he was dimly aware of Ivan's cock teasing his entrance.

It was all the warning he received, when he felt Ivan's shoving inside him with one swift thrust. The sensation of Ivan filling him, breaking him, was all he needed to ground him to reality. A choked groan escaped him as Ivan pulled out before thrusting back in so hard the bed creaked with protest.

Ivan loomed over him, changing their position, changing the angle of penetration. Yao's body tensed; straining, straining, the pressure unerringly building again as Ivan's cock scraped against his prostate over and over, again and again.

"You're not porcelain, you're not delicate," Ivan panted in his ear, his husky voice laced with immeasurable desire. He thrust into him again with full force, until Yao felt he was going to break in two. "You're mine."

Incapable of answering with words, Yao bit down hard on the Russian's neck, dragging his nails down the taut muscles of his back. He took and took, devouring the pain Ivan was giving him and turning it into mindless, body numbing pleasure.

Ivan knew him too well.

He always did like it a little rough.