Russia walked out of his office with the staggering gait of a man who had had too much to drink. The smell of vodka was unmistakable, permeating his clothes making his drunken state obvious. His face remained cold, but in the tone of his thick, slightly slurred voice there was a trace of unexpected warmth, a tone less sharp than usual.

Seeing you, his hardened expression seemed to soften a little. Immediately, and without saying a word, he advanced towards you, his large figure looming over yours with unwavering strength and determination. Without giving you a chance to react, he pulled you towards him, surrounding you in a firm and possessive embrace. His arms, large and muscular, were an immovable wall around you, and although you tried to break free, his hands, firm as steel, did not let you get away.

You felt the weight of his body and the heat of his breath on your skin as he brought his face closer to yours, his lips close to your ear. The serious and cold face he always showed seemed to crumble a little. His hoarse and muffled laugh vibrated in his chest, and you noticed how his voice softened just for a moment, almost like a whisper.

“You smell like chocolate…” he said, and there was a slight amused tone in his words, something he rarely showed. “Hehe…”

You shuddered as you felt his face sink into your hair, deeply inhaling the aroma. His mouth slid from your hair to your neck, and, without warning, his teeth grazed your skin, taking small bites.