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The Love of Ivan	By : miladygrimm Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Iron Man Views: 3144 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man 2, X-men (comics) Omega Red, Marvel, or Paramount Pictures, nor do I own any of the characters from the comics or the movies, this is a work of fiction and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
((A larger chapter than normal, I hope you all appreciate it. LadyAura, Gothicpug thank you for your ongoing support, XD WeepingAngelOfDeath here is the update, please enjoy, and Ghostly Crippled Girl I tried to double check my work for ya this time *winks* I promise more Tony and Pepper soon.))
Russia is an old country whose origins are steeped in Slavic and Byzantine nobility. These hearty and proud people built beautiful cities with caring hands, carefully dressing the Russia they love so deeply. She is the largest country in the world and home to over 142 million people who call her Mother. The term of endearment is an apt description for the land itself feels alive. Russia is a proud and beautiful woman. She is a strong beautiful Mother who breathes a deep passion into her people demanding them to live life to it’s fullest.
But if Russia really was a woman, strong and true, then Moscow was her heart. It was night when the plane circled around to land. The buildings were all lit up making the city a sea of stars twinkling against the cold ground. Sylvia felt her heart clench in her chest. It was alien and beautiful all at once.
Ivan collected their luggage while Sylvia said goodbye to the little woman who posed as Momma Grusov. It was late, nearly 11 o’clock in Moscow. And the Sheremetyevo International Airport still bustled with activity. The first thing that Ivan did was exchange their American money, Then they took a train through Belorussky Railway Terminal not too far from the terminal in which they landed. Everything felt so very compact to Sylvia, a perfect taking of space.
The train was packed with people despite the late hour. There were no spare seats. Ivan and Sylvia were forced to stand up hanging on to little triangles. Ivan stood with his front pressed to her back, one arm around her belly protectively. She appreciated it. His warmth and nearness did a great deal to relieve her anxiety and gave her a moment to study the people around them. They fascinated her.
She had expected to see loads of dark haired men with full mustaches and thin beautiful super model women wearing fur lined hats. There were a couple of both…minus the hats…but for all intents and purposes they were as varied as any group of people on a New York bus.
She laid her head back against Ivan’s broad chest looking on as two men got up so that an older woman might sit down. The old woman laughed and said something that Sylvia could not translate but she got the jist of it. The woman was pleased that such fine men would move for her, showing such good manners.
A group of well dressed teenagers practiced their English and talked about the live show they just saw at the theater. Teenagers? Going to the theater? How extraordinary. A woman in a worn but cared for suit was in one seat, reading a thick book, glasses low down on her thin nose.
A couple of guys in thick jackets seemed to be arguing good naturally. A group of women were laughing and giggling eying Ivan and some of the other men.
The one thing that did strike Sylvia as different was that everyone was well dressed. Aside from her and Ivan no one was wearing jeans. Sylvia was feeling a bit under-dressed.
When their stop came Ivan pushed her hip and lead her out onto the streets. It was late in October and Sylvia’s light jacket did little against the cold. There was no snow upon the ground but it was cold enough to make Sylvia tuck her hands in her jean pockets. Ivan would not let her carry the luggage, he said that it was heavy and it would be considered rude in Russia where women had found a place to be both independent and old fashioned all at once.
Sylvia noted now that there were a great deal more people walking along the old streets rather than driving. And another surprise, half of the signs were in English.
“For tourists.” Ivan explained as he lead her deeper into Moscow. He reasoned that Moscow was separated into two parts; living areas and working areas. Not unlike the US and residential vs. commercial. The residential areas of Russia tended towards large brick apartment like buildings.
There were smaller shops here in the residential area, mostly 24 hour ‘producti’ stores, a grocery store, and an odd little shop that looked more like a professional lemonade stand. Only this stand was made of brick, with glass window fronts, and no lemonade. Instead the wares of these stores were incredibly varied and taped right there in the window. Each of them manned by one person.
There was just too much to see. Ivan lead her down one street, and paused outside one of the large brick buildings. Rather than enter the front of the apartment Ivan went around the side to what looked like a maintenance door, and lead her down a series of steps towards a basement apartment.
“This home.” He said pausing outside an unmarked door. The only one down here. He slid a key into a lock and pushed open the door to reveal their new abode.
It was similar to a flat. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all one big perfect square with nothing to divide one section from another. But the entire thing was one big mess. There was a couch, partially visible beneath a pile of dirty blankets and once worn clothes. Every available flat surface was taken up with books and rolls of tech readouts. The kitchen counter seemed to have been overrun with tools and bits of tech. Most of which she did not understand.
The dinning table was small. Her mother would have called it bachelor sized. Piled on top of it were empty vodka bottles and tech manuals.
“It’s not much,” Ivan said apologetically.
Sylvia watched him set their things down, his eyes not meeting hers. She reached forward and touched his chin, her thumb upon that patch of hair that decorated his face. “You’re here….and that makes it perfect.”
Ivan smiled and stood up to kiss her forehead. He moved past her and began to tidy things off the couch in that nervous quick way men do when they’ve invited a woman over and failed to straighten things up. She let him, it would keep him busy while she looked through things. She made her way to the kitchen first. Sylvia enjoyed cooking and if this was to be her home she wanted to know what she had to work with.
The cabinets were plain. They were a sort of unwashed khaki brown, and a few of them were not in good working order. She began to go through each cupboard…taking stock of what could be used and what might be thrown out.
She opened the last pantry door and squeaked “Oh!” She exclaimed, “Hello? Umm…Ivan?”
Ivan looked up, his hands full of a stack of books. Sylvia stepped out of the way to reveal a white bird who had taken up residence in the food pantry. “We have a guest.”
Ivan’s eyes went wide like he didn’t believe what he was seeing. His face split into a wide grin revealing all of his golden teeth. He gave a sudden rather musical whistle and said something in Russian.
The bird cocked it’s head to one side and fluttered forward landing neatly on Ivan’s shoulder. The bird side stepped closer to Ivan’s face and immediately began to preen him just behind the ear. Ivan began to laugh joyously…a rolling happy sound.
“Friend of yours?” Sylvia asked.
“This…is my burd,” he sad jovially.
~
Tony Stark was looking at Justin Hammer through a piece of thick glass. Hammer was looking a bit worse for ware. Having not been allowed a razor the mans already angular face was covered in a rugged sort of beard that managed to make him look less professional and more barbaric. His once clean, clipped, and styled hair was falling around his his chin disheveled and fell around him making him appear both more attractive and more feral. Tony of course looked picture perfect everything trimmed and beautiful.
“Did you drop the soap Justin?” Tony asked sitting back in his slightly more comfortable chair, the state pen was high tech enough that they didn’t have those dumb phones. Instead there was a button on either side that turned on an off a speaker.
Hammer gave his trademark laugh, a laugh that had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with barely contained nervousness and insanity. It was a little closer to insanity now than Stark remembered. “Ha-ha…very funny Anthony,” Hammer said a light flashing through his eyes. “You heard about the little fight in the motel?”
“I’m curious, how is it you managed to find and attack Ivan Vanko…when your all tied up here?”
“Never underestimate the Hammer, Anthony.”
Tony Stark just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. “What do you want, Justin?”
“Where is the glorious Miss Potts?” Justin asked licking his lips. “I really like those cute tight skirts she wears.”
Tony didn’t answer. Justin didn’t need to know where Pepper was and for some reason Stark didn’t want him to know. “I could help but notice you not answering me. I know you like to play games, but this ones timed so…tick tock Justin.”
“You and I want the same thing.”
“A dirty martini and a slew of cute blonds wearing bikinis?”
Justin laughed outright this time, “Well doesn’t look like I’m going to get either of THOSE things now am I, Anthony? No…no we both want Ivan. Ivan is off gallivanting with some pudgy nurse bitch.” Justin growled slamming his fist on the table.
“Jealous, Justin?” Tony smirked, “I didn’t know Ivan was your type.”
“I want him here…in this place, This is where he deserves to be. I didn’t do anything.”
“Well, aiding and abetting is a serious crime. Because of you Ivan was able to build his Hammeroids and set them loose upon the population. Which means you are almost as much to blame as he is.”
“I’m facing the death penalty,” Justin said his eye too bright.
“You should have faced the death penalty for that dance you did on national television. For helping Ivan you should stay locked up and be Big Ben’s hide the salami partner.” Tiny said standing up, “Tell ben I said hello. Let me know when the wedding is.”
“Tony…I know where Ivan is…”
~
Ivan was sleeping. Sylvia was watching. She enjoyed watching him at rest. He looked handsome with his face relaxed in sleep. A lock of hair had spilled over his eyes, hardly a killer of men. She reached forward slowly and tucked the hair behind his ear. His lips twitched in a slow smile.
They had been living in Moscow for almost a month. Sylvia had managed to clean up the apartment, discovering that the linen closet to one side of the bathroom lead not to terrycloth but to a lab.
Ivan had explained that it was his lab, where he did his work, and it was here Ivan spent a good part of most of his days. What he was building, she didn’t know. She couldn't really summon up enough interest to really ask again.
She had, however, asked once. He had even tried to explain. But language barriers and her less than active interest had left her with a headache.
Besides, it might be better if she didn't know. What she did know is that every now and again he’d leave with a stack of his technical readouts or some piece of metal…something or other…and when he returned there would be money. Sylvia was sure it wasn’t legal she was also sure she didn’t give a flying rats ass.
She spent her first few days cleaning up the place and learning about Russia. The language was far FAR beyond her. She walked around their little downtown area, getting used to the sounds of things. Familiarizing herself with it.
She took in a show on a daily basis, there were usually a few to choose from. It helped immerse herself in her new home. If there wasn't anything she could watch, or wanted to watch, she would go to a local cafe and read a book while watching the other patrons.
She had learned several things about Russians. They were honest, they were proud, and most of them knew at least a little English. It had made many things easier…shopping especially.
It was the nights she cared about more. When Ivan was done working he would come out of his lab and they would share diner. She had been learning that Russian groceries had more of the raw ingredients than American stores. Very few boxed diners, very few premade items. You were expected to make it all yourself. At first she had balked at the idea of being without boxed mac & cheese or hamburger helper.
Sylvia enjoyed the feeling of it. She found one of her favorite meals was Chicken Kiev. A type of chicken where the meat was first stuffed with heavily seasoned butter, then breaded and then fried. It was decadent.
“You doing okay?” Ivan asked one evening.
They were both sitting on the bed in what made up their bedroom. She was curled up comfortably to one side, a blanket over her legs and a novel in her hands. He had one of his various tech manuals open and balanced on a knee while his hands fidgeted with some small bit of wiring.
“Mmm, I am.”
“You happy?” Ivan asked more seriously. Sliding his glasses down his nose to look at her.
She tucked a bookmark into her novel and set it aside. “Of course I am Ivan.” She said sliding closer to him. “There are certain things I miss, sure.”
“Like?”
“Well…I miss Fred for one.”
He frowned suddenly, pulling away, “Oh?”
She gave him an odd look and then she shook her head, deciding to play with him. “Oh indeed. He was quite sweet. Pretty young you know? Sleekly built. Big bright green eyes.”
Ivan was looking positively upset now. “Were close?”
“Oh very, he lived with me for a year…I’d come home from work and he’d be in my bed. All curled up and looking precious. I’d get him some food…and we’d go back to bed together.”
Ivan got out of the bed, snapping his book shut. “You wish see him again?”
“Very much…I mean, I had Mrs. Harold watching him…you know…make sure he got fed…and didn’t get too lonely. He had a terrible habit of destroying the carpet if he didn’t get enough attention.”
“Carpet?” Ivan asked, positively confused.
“Well of course. Fred was a cat you see. An orange tabby.”
He frowned deeply at her. “You tease.”
“Mmm only a little. I find it amusing that you think I have someone waiting for me back home when I ran off to Russia for you. What kind of woman do you take me for?” She asked rolling over and setting her book on the little nightstand.
He set his own book aside and began to undress. The best part of any night. Despite having seen it many times Sylvia still wasn’t sure if he did it on purpose or not but Ivan undressed slowly.
He slid his shirt off and tossed it into the laundry basket she’d set up. He tugged the male tank top up even slower revealing his long golden skinned back to her in inches. More tattoos were here…leading her eyes upwards to the splay of shoulders. She saw the chain of his iron cross necklace and heard the cloth drop. Then she watched his pants slide down, if there had been underwear she didn’t see them, his legs were beautiful muscled, the way Greek statues were muscled. Long elegant lines, he moved away from the bed and she get the pleasure of watching the light shimmer across his flesh. God the man was beautiful.
She let her eyes go upwards and saw that he was watching her watch him. She smirked, “Now who is playing games?”
He licked his lips, “No game.” He gripped one of her slender ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed. “Want.”
He slid her across the simple woven covers till her legs hung off the bed. He reached for the zipper of her pants and began to slide them down her body revealing that sweet pale skin.
“Ivan…” she whispered. He left her shirt in place and began to kiss his way from her ankle upwards. He opened his mouth and kissed he calf, nibbling gently. She giggled and tried to squirm but he held her in place. He kissed the side of her knee tickling his tongue over the sensitive skin. Then his mouth was on her thigh….and then he was nuzzling against her simple white cotton panties.
“Ivan!” She gasped out pushing against his shoulders. It had no effect. She had learned by now that when Ivan wanted something, he got it.
His fingers hooked in the crotch of the cotton and he pulled them aside revealing that sweet little slit. She tried to spread her legs open for him but he shook his head, “Nyet.”
“Oh boy,” she whispered right before she felt his tongue slide between the plump lips of her womanhood. She lost the ability to speak. She was nothing but sensation. His wet tongue slid along her over and over again as if she were some sort of ice cream. His eyes flicked up to enjoy her squirm. Her eyes were closed and she was stretched out before him, breathing hard. He watched her breasts bounce with her mouth and when he felt her relax he slid two digits into her slit.
“Ah!” She crooned out her hands fisting the blankets beneath her as he slid his fingers in and out of that wet hole. He spread her open this time, letting him get better access to her clitoris.
“Sweet,” he chuckled as his mouth closed over that sensitive bud. His tongue circled slowly over it while his fingers pushed in….his hands were not gentle. His fingers pounded into her roughly, demanding her pleasure.
“Ivan…I…I can’t stop….please I’ll..” She gasped expecting him to stop. He always stopped before she came. But he seemed unwilling to stop now. She watched him lick harder…his tongue flicking wildly…and then she screamed out…wordless. She was nothing but warmth and feeling. She had no body she was pleasure incarnate….it rolled through her, filling her like a cup overflowing.
He pulled back slowly, licking her flavor from his mouth, “Better than cat?” he asked.
She giggled and rolled over. “Ohhh yes…yes much better.”
- 9
- 10
- 11
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The Love of Ivan