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Chapter Text

TROTSKY POV

Last night I dreamt that it was 1917 again. I was with him and we were at his home, lounging on his couch. We sunk into the soft colourful fabric as we spoke for hours on end.
The meeting was meant to be a small discussion between us two, but as most of these meetings ended up, we spoke of love rather than the revolution. We weren’t speaking of Kerensky and the Provisional Government, we were speaking of our lovers, he of his affair with Inessa Armad that ahs been going on for quite a while then. Despite having a… strange wife, Nadezhda.
Inessa. That’s all who he spoke of. Her voice, the languages she spoke, the ballads she would sing, and the comfort her silky smooth gave him. Her face, it’s seductive I admit, it’s sultry, it can have any man, especially my comrade, on his knees. Her hands that played countless pieces of Beethoven, his favorite.
She had had many affairs and a husband before him. That slut. She can have any man she wants, and she does, but why does she have to take comrade Lenin- my Vlad.

I couldn’t stand talk of her. His voice changed tones whenever she was even alluded to. She has him head-over-hells for her. She chose him to steal out of everyone else. She’s a bolshevik- just like the rest of us. I think she’s power hungry- thats bitch. She’s only with him to have relations to the top.
They had an active sex life. He told me every detail, but I wasn’t paying attention to how he described her perfectly shaped breasts, or her seductive words, or how utterly perfect and submissive she was to him. I was imagining him and I. Us two. Together. In bed.
I had imagined it before, us making love. Not having sex. Him and Inessa have sex, him and Nadezhda have sex, but him and I would make love. It’d be better than any woman could ever do to him.

These thoughts were impure. Disgusting, perverted, and utterly sinful. Men could not lie with men, women could not lie with women. It was against- everything! What I was thinking wasn’t right.
However we had never even spoken of the mere idea of being homosexual- so my young self still had hope.
That hope was alive- burning in my heart, rushing through my body running up and down from my mind to my… nevermind.
I looked into his eyes, now eyeing a photo that he kept in his coat of Inessa. Pointing out her small pretty mouth and her pale tanned skin. I gazed deep into his eyes and I not only saw my own reflection, but I saw hope.
I was possessed. That’s what I had told him after I had grabbed his rough, but soft and comforting skin of his plump face and pulled him into a kiss- a loving embrace.
Our lips touched for God knows how long, it felt like forever to me, or at least I wanted it to be forever. It was heaven. Absolute nirvana and perfection. But then i felt his rough hands on the wrinkly vest that was resting on my chest and pushed my body away with a swift movement- a movement that not only had me at a loss of breath, but also a loss of hope.

…
“I’m-“
“Don’t,” he silenced me, not even looking at me. Eyes at the floor, the photo of Inessa crumpled on the couch.
He lifted his head and gazed into my eyes, then took of my glasses, placing them onto the coffee table and placing his hand on mine.

“They’ll get in the way.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Chapter Text

It was now I who was pushing him away.

“Comrade- what?! Why-“
He silenced me. Putting his index finger on my lips, and his other hand he cupped my cheek, thumb carressing my facial hair.

“Save your voice- Leon.”

I took his finger off of my lips, still confused.

“Comrade-“

“Call me Vlad.”

We had never done first names. He always called everyone by either their surname or ‘comrade’. This made me feel like I was different- I was Leon. Not Trotsky or Comrade.

“…Vlad, what are you doing?! I thought… I thought you..”

I couldn’t seem to finish my sentence. The words refused to leave my lips. Perhaps that was because they were muffled by his soft lips attacking my own. Silencing me for a good amount of time.
He leaned forward towards me, I could taste the beer on his lips from the rounds we had been drinking beforehand. I vodka, and him beer; specifically Zhigulyovskoe- his favorite brand.

The kiss was deep, passionate, everything I had ever dreamed of and so much more. I felt a divine feeling I had only ever felt when I was about to go to sleep and thoughts of this exact moment were going through my mind.

When we pulled away slowly to catch our breath, he gazed into my eyes as I had done to him so many times before.

“You thought I like women?”

“Yes com- Vlad.”

He chuckled and looked at the fire burning in front of us in the fireplace, where on a chestnut shelf above it was a photo of his wife, Nadezhda, then he swapped his gaze to the photo of Inessa. That I now realise was on the floor now.

“Well, I do. That’s no lie.”

I was confused, at the time, I had no knowledge of a spectrum of sexuality. It was two options:

Sin:
Homosexuality, men lying with men and women lying with women.

Truth:
Heterosexuality, men with women.

My young mind knew not that you could love both men and women. ‘How could you be sinful and follow the truth at the same time?!’ I thought.

“What?”

“It’s strange, I know. But so are you. You’re a homosexual.”

I knew that, but still, hearing it from someone else’s lips made me tense up inside with anxiety and fear.

“I am both heterosexual and homosexual. I know not of a word for that, but it is I. That is who is am.”

“I… guess that makes sense.. but still, you have Nadezhda and Inessa! Why would you want me?! You could have anyone you want, and you do, but why would you want me?! We could never be together no matter what so what is the point?”

He stared at me, as if releasing a flock of butterflies into my stomach.

“You said it yourself: I can have anyone I want. And I want you, Leon.”

There it was again, Leon.

“But… why?”

He stared at me, as if gobsmacked by my inquiry.

“Why? What the devil do you mean?” His eyebrows raised.

“Look at yourself, LISTEN to yourself. You’re an intellectual-“

Nadezhda was an intellectual. One of the key women in the revolution. History will remember her as the strong Russian woman who helped her country fight tyranny. History will remember me as just another man who tried to take Lenin’s fame and credit.

“- A truly handsome man-“

Inessa was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She had the type of beauty that Lenin went after- eyes that saw the horrors of the lower class, and handled those struggles with grace rather than anger, a mouth that spread the good word of revolution and uprise, hair that was tied back; ready to be filthed with the blood of the bourgeoisie and all our fallen comrades, legs ready to walk the journey to justice, hands that help her comrades. And she was all that and more. She had all the best qualities in a revolutionary and still looked like she was blessed at birth.

“- and most importantly, you’re always by my side. Inessa and Nadezhda are not. Nadezhda is equally unfaithful to me as I am to her, and Inessa is more ran through than the trenches of WWI.”

I… had never heard him speak so ill-willed of them. It was always Nadezhda’s revolutionary efforts and Inessa’s adventurous personality in bed.

He was right.

Inessa was a whore, and Nadezhda is a average woman who thinks of herself as more than she really is. All bark no bite.

And I,

I was always there. I was writing to him in exile in Siberia. I wrote essays against the Tsar. I was with him to develop our cause together. I was his right hand man.

“You… you, Leon. Are mine. Not Inessa, not Nadezhda.”

He kissed me again, and this time I accepted it, interlocking my fingers with his. His free hand began to wonder, feeling my body over my layers of clothing which I was praying for him to rip off as soon as possible. Which I tried to convey to him by tugging on his shirt, or what I thought was his shirt. Which might’ve been his pants. His free hand took a break from caressing my body to trying to unbuckle my belt, but stopped abruptly when a thought came to his head.

“Not here- how impolite of me.”

“By what do you mean?”

“A gentleman like you deserves a proper experience on a comfortable bed. Come, Nadezhda’s bed in more comfortable than mine.”

The fact that we were going to make love on her bed. HER BED. It made me all giddy inside as I followed him, hands held by his own while he led me to her room.

TO BE CONTINUED

Chapter Text

We were in her bed.

At the time all I could think of was his johnson was thrusting in my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and causing me to gag on it. Causing Vlad to chuckle and tease me.

“Too much for you?”

I tried to talk, but he just grabbed my hair and forced himself in my mouth, causing me to choke even more.

“Ah ah ah! There will be no talking with your mouth full.”

I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care at the time. I didn’t care that I was getting fucked in a home that was not mine, on the bed of a woman that did nothing wrong to me, and by a man that I didn’t know the intentions of.

One thing Inessa failed to never talk about was the fact that Vlad was a sadist. A raging sadist.

My hair was pulled, ripped out, my glasses cracked, my clothes ripped off of me, buttons popping off and hitting the floor with a drop, my belt used against me. He took my belt off and gave me a kiss, then asked if I was okay with being tied up. I had never been tied up before, but there’s a first time for everything.

He took my wrists and bound them with my black leather belt. It was tight, but apparently that’s it’s whole purpose.

I watched as he stripped slowly in front of me, adding flame to my already firey erection. He was gorgeous. His defined abs that showed his hard work and athleticism, the strong arms with dark hair that he lacked on his head that decorated them and veins that were just awfully sexy and devine. I wanted him to not only to continue choking me with his johnson as he was before he stopped but also to choke me with his big veiny hands that gripped his clothes so beautifully as he tore them off of his hot, tan body.

“I see you’re enjoying this. Someone’s definitely happy to see me- I mean, who wouldn’t be? Haha.” He chuckled,

“He’s always happy to see you, as am I.”

“I can tell.”

I looked down at his pants, and his bulge was still raging from when I had gone insane on it a moment ago.

He discarded his clothes to the side, his shirt hitting the nightstand where a photo of him and Nadezhda stood. He looked at the photo and turned it down, not wanting to think about her in the moment.

Tonight was all about me, I thought.

“Let’s get to the fun stuff, now.”

He climbed on top of me, towering over me and making the soft bed creak from the sudden shift in weight. He caressed my entrence with his middle and index fingers, then smirked before beginning to pleasure me with them.

“Mph.. hah, hAH !” I whimpered, I had never had anything like this before. Usually my few masturbation sessions would only consist of me rubbing my johnson. I had no knowledge of… whatever was going on now.

“Cyka blyat… you’re tight, Leon.”

“I… hah, I- mph…. Have never ex-experienced this buh-before.”

I could barely babble out the words to respond, enducing a chuckle out of him.

“Aww.. have you never participated in this before? This your first time with a male?”

“Yes…”

“Have you ever done it with a woman?”

“No….”

He continued to pleasure me, but he stopped talking, as if in shock from my reply.

“I’m sorry-“

“That’s great.”

“Wah- ah… aaAAH!!”

Suddenly, without warning, his pace increased greatly and I felt a feeling inside me start to boil inside of me. I knew what it was, he had told me about the orgasms he had enduced for himself when with Inessa and Nadezhda and of their orgasms that he failed to realise were faked.

He continued ravishing my hole with his digits until I… arrived at my climax.

“My turn, turn around.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I don’t quite like looking into someone’s eyes while we are having sex. It kills the mood.”

Having sex. Not love-making. He had sex with Inessa and Nadezhda. I thought that I was different.

I brushed off the comment and obliged, turning around, my cheek gracing the feather-stuffed pillow below.

Vlad pushed my buttox up against his pelvis, then slowly but surely inserting his johnson into my regions.

────୨ৎ────

The experience, despite being my first, what I thought would be everything I dreamed of and more, ended up being extremely mediocre and… boring. It felt great, but I was never given a chance to climax and instead Vlad called me names that rather than arousing me - made me feel much worse, causing my erection to slop. But he didn’t care, his was still hard, so I was unimportant.

As soon as he climaxed he didnt even ask if I was alright, he simply kept me there while he caught his breath, then took himself out and started untying me and getting dressed.

“You’re great, comrade. Very enjoyable, I haven’t had a virgin in ages.”

‘Was that all I was to him? Just another virgin to mess with then throw aside?’ I thought to myself.

“Thank you.”

I picked up my clothes from the floor and started dressing, with my mood much lower than it was when I had first walked into this room- her room.

“Would you like something to eat before you leave? Nadezhda is not home but we do have bread or something else from last night.”

For the first time I wished to be as far away from him as possible. I wanted to be out of this house - her house. I wanted to gather my thoughts for there were far too many racing in my mind, all equally stressing me.

“Thank you greatly, but I feel I will eat once I arrive home. This was very pleasant.”

Lies. Both parts. I was not going to eat when I get home, I would go to a pub and drink until I forgot this entire night and this was not pleasant.

“Very well then, I will walk you out.”

I took a final glance at Nadezhda’s room. It was beautiful, compensating for her looks I suppose, it had beautiful maroon-chestnut stained floorboards that creaked whenever someone no bigger than her entruded. There was a small window, the frame was collecting dust and the lacey, white curtains that protected the room from the outside world added a sense of calm. As if you walked into a little girls’ room. There was wear and tear, indicating it had most likely been there for a long time, seen the stars above and the people below. The bed that Vlad- Lenin and I had just defiled was a small one, twin sized, I suppose. Two pillows, both white and stuffed with soft brown feathers that would poke out at times. And a quilt covering it, most likely made from her mother with different fabrics. I knew this room held many memories for her as it now did I.

We closed the door with a slow and loud creak and traveled down back to the kitchen and sitting room where the door to my freedom and escape led to.

“Well, thank you greatly for inviting me. I had a delightful time..”

I didn’t want to call him Vlad.

“Comr-“

“Vlad?” A feminine voice called from close by. I looked to my right, and low and behold stood dear Nadezhda standing in the kitchen, making dinner.

“You hadn’t informed me that Comrade Trotsky was coming.”

Chapter Text

There she was.

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten, dear.” He barely even acknowledged her. Her face decorated with a look of dismay and curiosity. Were we loud? He, definitely, but not I. Our clothes were wrinkled and my hair was messy, his belt was barely on and his fly was halfway unzipped.

It was so obvious.

This led me to question the couples strange sex life and unfaithfullness to one another, did Nadezhda think she was the only one being unfaithful, or was she only sleeping with another man as an act of revenge for Comrade Lenin’s relationship with Inessa? Did he get with Inessa to get back at Nadezhda? Had they agreed to… ‘be open’? The whole situation was terribly awkward and I wanted to get out as fast as possible.

“Comrade, would you wish to stay for supper?”

“My apologies, Krupakaya, but I have planned on eating at home tonight. I thank you both greatly for the offer!” There it was; my ticket out. I had thanked them both and could finally escape with this cramped wooden house.

My comrade led me out and we said our farewells before I had my back to the door and was walking down the melancholy streets of St. Petersburg.

NADEZHDA POV

Comrade Trotsky.

I had known there was something up with him, I could sense it. His whole presence, his aura just screamed it.

Before now I could never put a pin in whatever it could be, but now it was clearer than ever. After he had walked out the door our my home with Vladimir bidding goodbye to him, I started to notice every aspect of my husband. I had never particularly paid too much attention to his looks before, but now it’s all I could look at.

Standing slumped over, as if very tired, hands in his pockets of the pants that were falling down his hips, his belt was not secure. His fly, a button shy, his face, sweaty and his eyes very calm.
Usually, he carried much tension in his back, he said that he used it to keep his posture sharp, but now he looked much more relaxed and inattentive.

“Why was he here?” I asked,

“Why the devil do you care?”

“Because I am your wife. You are my responsibility and vice versa.”

He scoffed, “wife? You flatter yourself. You are a mistress if anything. A silly document binding us is a thing of a past!”

I wouldn’t lie that I wasn’t hurt.

“I am still your wife. Not any other woman- not Armund.”

I mentioned her a lot in fights, that woman. Her and I, we two had a rivalry of sorts. But now in this moment, I was feeling a rising climax in my heart- like I was going to just explode in front of everyone. Especially in front of Inessa.

“Don’t you dare bring her into this, she is an innocent woman!”

“Innocent?! You baffle me! She’s as much of a harlot as you are, a lady of the night if you will!”

His fists clenched, as if he was about to burst a vein.

Then he hit me.

Well- hit is very generous, it was a punch. Straight in my face between my two eyes. I was strong, but it seemed like my strength completely abandoned me in that moment and I froze on the ground after being knocked to the floor.

“You speak of this again, you know what will happen.”

He left, he fixed up his clothes, then grabbed his cap and jacket and made his way out.

This was my last straw, I had no choice and I turned off the stove and dressed myself to go out. I was going to visit the woman that I knew would understand me. We had never ‘liked’ one another, in fact we had a rivalry of sorts. I called her a bitch and she called me a doormat, however the one thing we did have in common was taking shit from the men in our lives- however this would be the last time that happened to her and I.

────୨ৎ────

I stood there at her door, waiting for a response to my five consecutive knocks.

“Who is it?” A feminine voice called out; muffled from behind the thick door. God, I hated her! But that damn voice, so silky smooth! As beautiful as a ballet and as pitch perfect as an opera. It conveyed a sense to everyone who heard her that she was in charge and seen.

“Armund, it’s me, Nadezhda.” There was a period of silence that felt like forever.

“What the devil do you want?!” I could hear her firey annoyance through the chestnut wood that separated us.

“I-… I need your help.”

“You will not get it, now get out!”

“Inessa, please! It’s about Vlad and it’s very serious.”

The silence happened again. I was expecting another scream from behind a door from her stubborn self, but to my disbelief, I found a powdered and dolled-up face gazing upon me from a crack through the door.

“What is it?”

‘She really is a slurt; only caring when it involves him.’ I thought.

“I feel it is better I tell you inside.”

She led me inside of her flat, it was quite small but very cozy. Nothing like my home.

“Now, whatever is it that troubles Vlad?”

We sat on her leather couch, she had not offered me anything to drink. Most likely because of the hatred she then had for me.

“You know Comrade Trotsky, correct?”

“Know him? Please, it’s hard not to when he’s attached to Vlad by the hip at all times!”

…

“I came home earlier today than usual to make a meal for Vlad and I to try and mend our… rather rough relationship at the moment, and I heard… noises from my bedroom. I was quite curious so I looked in through a small crack in the door and I saw Vlad and Comrade Trotsky on my bed-“

Her face silenced me. She knew exactly what I was going to say next.

“Him? Comrade Trotsky? Lovers?”

“From what I saw, very much yes.”

She looked at her hands, she was picking at her thumbs with her newly painted nails, a fresh layer of crimson brushed over the small beds.

“Why did you come here?” She asked sternly.

“I thought you deserve to know-“

“I don’t want to know, Nadezhda, why the devil would you think I’d want to hear of such disgusting sinful behavior!”

“Because you care about him!”

She scoffed at my comment.

“Care about him?! Please! That man loves me only for my body, nothing more! He is a sinful man of lust and I care not of what he does. He can be damned to Hell for all I care!”

She continued,

“And why do you think I would want to hear of especially homosexual behavior! Are you accusing me of such a disgusting and gross action?!”

She was quite defensive, it was very strange.

“Whatever do you mean?! Not at all! Inessa, I simply thought you should know- I had no idea that you did not care for him.”

“I do not. And neither do you I suppose.”

“No, not anymore.”

There was a brief silence that haunted the sitting room. It lingered, trying to run away but it stayed.

“You hate him, don’t you?” She asked, this time in a softer voice.

“Well hate is a strong word, Inessa-“

“That is why I am using it.”

She was assertive, it made me feel something, it wad beautiful. Utterly stunning, even.

“Well.. yes, I do.”

“I have a plan, dear.”

She placed her hand on mine.

Chapter Text

TROTSKY POV

Here I was again, lying on my bed staring into the blue.

I hadn’t grown up the most confident boy, I was a scrawny child, lanky teen, and awkward man. And just when I thought that I meant something to someone that wasn’t my mother, I found out just as quickly that I was nothing but a virgin to fuck.

I stared aside at the two now drained bottles of beer I had picked up prior to arriving at my home and falling onto my bed in a puddle of tears, flowing from my face and wetting my beard. They dripped onto my glasses and blinded me, and for once I was glad that I couldn’t see what was going on around me. I had been a very observant and hyper-aware man before, but now in this moment I wanted nothing to do with the world. I was nothing. Not Leon, not comrade Trotsky, not Lev, not anyone. I was a somber man laying on his stomach, sobbing into a pillow like a schoolgirl in a fairy tale.

I had let Lenin play me like a game of chess, manipulating the pieces at just the right times and winning game after game. I was no longer jealous of those two women, I was somewhat sorrowful for them. For Nadezhda, having to marry that God-awful man. She probably was like me and fell right into his disgusting trap before finding out his true character. And for the first time, Inessa. Inessa Armund. I felt sorry for the woman. Having to fuck a small-dicked man with a bad temper and breath that reeked of cigarettes and beer.

Only now, in my drunk and depressing state, was I feeling like… a human. I was now only feeling empathy and sympathy. Before I had merely followed Lenin and formed my opinions based on what he said and believed. I had never had an original thought in my life.

I got up from laying on my stomach and took off my day coat and cap, throwing them to the floor just as Lenin had hours earlier. I sat up, slouching, staring at the door to my room.

I had never been my own person, now that I was thinking about it I had no idea if I was a person. What makes a man a man? Why does man betray man? Is independence the true way of belonging or is the only way to live in a society like ours is to follow along like ducklings? Is individuality so often overlooked as selfishness that everyone will call you a lazy son of a cunt for staying home one day.

My eyes looked at the cracking wall, observing every imperfection that I could. I needed to. I needed to not be the only failure in the room- in the world. I saw the cracks in the drywall, the dripping from the ceiling, the inconsistencies on the paint job, and wrinkles of the sheets, the shatters and pieces missing from the mirror staring back at me, revealing the thing that I feared the most in the entire room.

Myself.

I hated that fucking mirror. Every time I looked at it it consistently reminded me of how much pitentual I lose every day on this earth. I still remember when I first purchased that mirror from a supermarket in Kyiv. The golden outline of it appealed to me- my very young mind. I hung it up in this very spot where it has stayed for years to come and go, and every day I wake up and see the reflection of the young man who purchased that new mirror, looking not for imperfections, but looking for new beginnings.

I couldn’t take it, I took the heaviest thing in sight that I could throw and pitched it dead center in the middle of the mirror. Causing it to shatter into a million small and deadly fragments, within every fragment I saw a memory of my young self being crushed into nothing but dust.

I got up from the edge of my bed and went up to the remains of the mirror and picked up a large and thick shard and clutching it deep in my hand.

I knew how I needed to let my feelings out.

Chapter Text

NADEZHDA POV

Her almond brown eyes stared into mine, as if trying to convey a message that I didn’t understand. Her eyes spoke a thousand words. They told her story and how she came to be, I, however could not understand those words. Or maybe I just didn’t want to understand them- understand her.

I heard the muffled sounds of church bells ringing through the walls of her apartment, I turned my head to gaze at the cathedral far in the distance. But for the first time in my life, I felt a feeling of something- someone spiritual with me.

An angel.

Her.

She took my face in her soft hands and allowed our lips to meet in a passionate embrace. The mix of staggered breaths and the church bells ringing was an overwhelming sensation that I never wanted to end. Both of her hands cupped my face and pulled my body closer, her now on top of me. Despite her being much smaller than I, I fully submitted to her subconsciously.

“Nadya.. you have no idea how long I’ve awaited your arrival.” She spoke in between breaths.

“Nessa..” I didn’t know how to respond. “You’re.. breathtaking.” I quite literally meant that. Her aggressive embraces to me were barely allowing me to breathe.

“Nessa, please.. I need to speak!”

She stopped kissing me and straddled me, not letting me move anything below my torso.

“Nessa, I did not come here to… do this.. I came for advice.”

“Nadya, dearest, why would you want my advice?”

“Because I don’t know what to do, and there’s barely anyone in my life who I feel like understand my situation, Nessa!”

“Nadya, you’re shedding tears. You, a strong woman, are shedding tears over a man. A pathetic man.”

“Now that I think about it, he is barely a man, that Vlad. He is a corrupted creature that is not worth our time!”

“Nessa, if I lose him I lose everything! I lose my status, my home, my everything!” My tears flowed down my face with every word.

“Shh. Nadya, I know a way for you to get rid of this… inconvenience without losing too much.”

I saw her glance to her kitchen, a freshly sharpened knife layed there, basically calling our names; ‘come, come!’ I swear I heard it yell.

“Nessa.. you cannot be serious! If we kill him- what if we get caught?!”

“Don’t worry, darlin’. We won’t.”

She got off of me and walked to her kitchen, picking up a long and sharp butcher knife.

“Now find our purses, we’ll solve our problems together. Like real women.”

TROTSKY POV (tw for self harm 😿)

I picked up the thick piece of glass from the ground and stared at myself through the reflection of it. It showed who I truly was; a pathetic faggot who had given himself to not only a man, but a man who didn’t even love him.

I rolled up the sleeve on my left arm, staring at the pale piece of flesh contently.

“I deserve this.”

I took the shard and placed it on my forearm, digging deep into my skin, then dragging it freely.

The pain was unbearable, tears began to pour from my eyes as I punished myself even more. Harder. More. Deeper. The blood of my punishment ran down my arm, staining my white dress shirt and my skin.

I had scarred myself. I layed there once again as I was before; staring into the blue. This time not only feeling pathetic, but also feeling pain, regret and guilt.

Damn you, Vladimir.

Chapter Text

TROTSKY POV

“Pathetic.” I told myself, “you’re fucking pathetic.”

I looked down at myself, trying to recognise myself. But I felt nothing. I saw the blood trickle down my fingertips and ruin my carpet, the fly that I had failed to zip up after my time with Comrade Lenin, and the tears that fell from my eyes, descending onto my hands and mixing with my own blood.

My hair was greasy, I needed to shower desperately. But I couldn’t get myself to do anything except stare down at my figure. I needed to move. I needed to do something.

bing bong

I heard the doorbell ring through the walls of my home, and it slapped me back to reality, almost. I rolled down my sleeves and threw on a sweater to cover my forearms, and wiped as many tears as I could off of my face as I could.

I walked through my flat, cold and dark. Then opened a crack in the door to examine who it was that was ringing my doorbell at this hour. I expected a solicitor, perhaps a child playing a prank, but no.

“Comrade Stalin?!”

My rival. I hated him! I still do, but there he was. Standing at my door, looking pathetic like a lost dog that was abandoned by its owner. The rain that had recently started pouring dretched him and his clothes. His white dress shirt turned a translucent color, letting his figure shine through the moon light.

“Good day, Comrade Trotsky.”

“What brings you here?” I refused to open the door all the way, that vile man deserved not to see my face.

“I just wish to talk, Comrade, nothing more. May I come in?”

“Talk about Comrade Lenin.”

Dear God, if this man was in love with him too I was going to kill myself on the spot.

“..Come in.”

I opened the door, letting him into my home. He took his drenched hat off and placed it on the rack, then invited himself onto my couch. I refused to join him there, standing above him.

“What is it that concerns Comrade Lenin?” I asked, crossing my arms acorss my chest.

He chuckled at my seriousness and sprawled his arms across my couch, but keeping his legs together like a little sissy.

“It is more of a you concern than anything, Comrade. Comrade Lenin just happens to be in the center of it.”

“What the devil do you mean?”

He scratched his mustache and chuckled again, “I saw you two.”

What.

“I saw you two on his wives bed. At first I thought I’d be having a show for myself, but you looked far too sad for me to get excited.”

“What do you plan to do with this information on Comrade Lenin and I’s sex life.”

He let his legs spread apart and revealed a bulge of sorts, but it was not one that I had came encounter with when I was with Comrade Lenin. It was a gun.

“I plan to end it.”

He shoved his hand into his trousers and pulled out a small revolver, silver, freshly polished. He pointed it in my face with a smirk on his.

“Comrade-“

“Cease your babbling. It will be quick.”

“Why are you doing this?!”

“Trotsky, I have always planned on your downfall at my hands. And only now do I have the perfect opportunity to do so.”

He stood up and walked up to me, causing me to walk backwards, eventually hitting the wall.

My heartbeat was strange. The beats were slow and far apart, yet I had the feeling in my stomach of anxiety and fear.

It wad funny, really. Moments ago I had been wishing on my own downfall and death, and now I stand in a situation that will lead to it, and I am scared. I’m shaking, I can feel tears forming in my eyes, pain tensing in my chest and stomach, my knees shaking, my head going numb.

Did I want to live? No. Did I want Stalin to kill me and die at his hand? Never. Was I expecting his throat to be slit with a butcher knife that appeared behind him as he attempted to pull the trigger to his revolver? Definitely not.

…

Behind him stood two figures. One slightly taller than the other. They had curves to them, so it couldn’t possibly be a man..

“Hello, Comrade.”

Inessa Armund.

“Hello.”

Nadezhda Krupskaya.

What were they doing here- what did Inessa just do with the butcher knife that she clutched in her right hand, now soaked in the crimson red blood of Josef Stalin?

“What is going on-“

My heartbeat started beating faster and faster, fearing that I was next. I would be dead at the hands of the two women I hated to most next to my own mother for giving birth to my vile being.

“Comrade Trotsky, we are not here for your life,”

A part of me was sad to hear that.

“Then what are you here for with a butcher knife?!” I spoke fast but shaky from anxiety.

She lowered the knife and handed it to Nadezhda who had been very stand-offish during this interaction.

“We two are here to talk about Vladimir.”

“You came here with a knife to talk about Comrade Lenin, really?”

“Let me talk gobshite!”

I stepped over Josef Stalin’s bleeding, dead body and we 3 sat on the couch. Nadezhda had her hand on Inessa’s thigh with the butcher knife resting on her dress, slightly staining the dark fabric.

“Comrade Trotsky, we know what you did.”

“Oh, you do?” I said mockingly.

“Yes. And we came to ask a simple question; did you enjoy it?”

What kind of stupid question is that?! Why the hell did they want to know?!

“Why do you wish to possess that information.”

Inessa sighed and looked into Nadezhda’s eyes, it was a look I had never seen them share before. Nadezhda rubbed Inessa’s thigh almost lovingly and then looked back at me.

“Because we have a feeling that you did not, Comrade. We have a feeling that you have feelings for Lenin that are not entirely positive.”

Inessa continued Nadezhda’s speech,

“..and you’re not the only one with those feelings. You are not alone with you’re feelings of disgust and hatred towards Lenin.”

I wanted to unite and confess that they 2 were right, but a stubborn and bitter part of my manliness told me not, so I stood my weak ground.

“I’ve said no such thing. I have no feelings on my comrade, he is simply my comrade. Nothing more, now leave my home before I call the fucking police on you murderesses.”

“You will do no such thing!” Nadezhda stood up and walked up to me quickly, fuelled with rage and annoyance from my stubborn additude.

“Leon Trotsky, you fucked my husband and did not enjoy one bit of it. I could see it on your face as you walked out of the house, don’t even try to deny because I see right through your facade.”

She continued,

“It was painful, wasn’t it?”

She stared at me, then when I looked at her with confusion she grabbed my arm.

“THIS. This, comrade. He made you do this, didn’t he?”

It wad painful. It stung like a thousand hells were attacking my being at once.

“… he did.” My response was short and quiet.

“That is why we’re here.”

“-For revenge,” Inessa finished.

Nadezhda picked up the knife that had been lying on the couch and pointed it towards my chest in a handing motion.

“Would you wish to join us or not?”

Chapter Text

Thoughts were rushing through my head like snow flurries in a blizzard, running through to wind swiftly but surely.

I was facing their direction, I saw their faces, yet I wasn’t looking at them. It was all a blur, a giant snow storm of thought, fear, anger, sadness, and a small sense of happiness that among all the other things running through the wind, was dancing slowing like a waltz to the melody of the wind.

I was happy, I had two women who I knew were on my side- for once! For once someone was here for me and would help me!
An enemy of mine was no longer with us, he was gone. No one to campaign against me other than his small minions that follow his every step- without their light, those moths cannot feed.

Inessa and Nadezhda’s caring gazes acted as a warm shelter for my mind that had been stuck in that awful, cold blizzard. Their eyes radiated love, passion, caution, but most importantly to me; loyalty and dedication to the downfall of Vladimir Illyich Lenin.

“Would you wish to join us or not?”

Like offering me the key to solving all my problems, Nadezhda offered her long and sharp knife up to me. Displaying it upon her hands, soaked in blood, like a father passing something on to his son.

“I would.”

I placed my no longer trembling hand on the knife as she smiled and glanced at Inessa, who walked towards me and gave me a warm and loving hug just like my mother had when I was a child.

“Thank you, comrade.” I thanked her,

“Trotsky, you, Nadya, and I are more than just comrades. We are individuals who are uniting from the tears and pain we experienced at the hands of Lenin. You are yourself, I myself, and Nadya herself. You are not his. Neither am I or Nadya. We are us, not his.”

Inessa’s hand rubbed my back, as I noticed Nadezhda cleaning up Stalin’s body.

“Would you want some help there, Nadezhda?”

“Please, call me Nadezhda, and worry not. I can handle this, just help me lift him onto the rug instead of the hard floor.”

“Of course, but won’t that make the carpet stain?”

“There will be no carpet to stain if we roll him up in it and throw it away.”

She was right, I could’ve never thought of that! To have a woman’s mind..

——

Inessa, Nadezhda, and I all cleaned up the dead body of Joseph Stalin, we cleaned the floors and our blood stained clothes and skin.

It was getting quite late, hours had passed since the two women first stopped by my flat. I craved sleep, I hadn’t slept in so long, and all the tears I had shed along with the fluctuations of my emotions made me exhausted beyong a second thought, and Inessa and Nadezhda led me to my bed, allowing me to sleep soudly into the night.

INESSA POV

Never would I have thought that I would be sitting on the couch of Leon Trotsky with the love of my life, Nadezhda Krupskaya, after killing Joseph Stalin and plotting to kill Vladimir Lenin.

I had never really cared for Trotsky, he was simply another character in my life. But now, he seems so much more- human. Everything was grey with the occasional hint of a dark scarlet or a dusty peach whenever I saw Nadya- but he was a different color. He was splattered droplets of deep navy blue on a white canvas. I had rarely ever seen someone like this, he was cold, sad, and clearly hurting. He was like a child that awakened maternal instincts inside my heart. It was a feeling that I rarely felt, especially around actual children- but here I sat in the house of a grown man thinking about him and wanting to wrap a blanket around him, place him in a comfy and warm bed with a stomach full of a hot home cooked meal and sing him a lullaby. What have I become…

Chapter Text

Since I’ve gotten many comments about historical accuracy- I thought that I might as well make a post to address it so that there are no more unnecessary misunderstandings.

I did not and do not intend for this fanfiction to be historically accurate in any way. I thought it was obvious while writing, but I was wrong. Despite adding tags like “crack treated seriously” and “not historically accurate”, I feel I must clear things up in a more formal way.

Characters such as Vladimir Lenin, Leon Trotsky, Inessa Armund, Nadezhda Krupskaya, and Joseph Stalin are not meant to be portrayed as their real life counterparts. I wrote this fic jokingly, not trying to actually offend anyone- especially the russian people and those whom are mentioned in my work.

This is not a serious work of literature!! It’s a fanfiction- or an alternate universe I made up in my head as a joke where everyone is gay. If you cannot understand that I don’t know why you’re on Ao3 in the first place.

I’m sorry if this sounds aggressive- it is not meant to be.

I love you all so much, thank you for reading so far! There are more chapters to come!

Chapter Text

NADEZHDA POV
The night passed slowly but surely. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable crushed on a small couch between itchy cushions and Inessa, but my mind calmed down and I slowly derealized and fell into a deep slumber from the melody of her soft snores and the cracks of the fire.

When we awoke the next day, we decided to cook a quick breakfast for the 3 of us. Once we were satiated and ready for the day of planning and execution, we stood by the door and went over the carefully crafted plan we had composed whilst cleaning up the body of Joseph Stalin.

“First we will have to find Lenin, once we do, Armund will go to him and isolate him; seducing him and potentially have sex with him if that is the direction things will go in. Once he is distracted we will have to knock him out from behind so that we can kill him without making too much noise. Once unconscious, we can strangle him to kill him.”

“But how shall we dispose of his body?”

I chucked at Trotsky’s comment; had he forgotten what the climax of our plan was?

“We will not. He shall lay there cold and be found eventually, all while we will be on our way to Paris on the train. Travelling with our status’s.”

I saw him break a sweat once more, but I knew he couldn’t back out. Not now.

“Okay- are we all ready?” I asked. Everyone, Inessa and Trotsky, nodded their heads and we walked out the door- going our separate ways in order to execute our plans.

——

INESSA POV

I knew my job; seduce Vladimir Lenin. I had the power over him, I could make him do whatever I wanted if I sucked up to him enough- I could with most men. It was what I had done my whole life. My looks were my weapon, my eyes powerful gunshots and my body a tank full of arms.

I knew where he was, at this hour he would still be at his home. The same cold house where all of this started- the house that Nadya left to be by my side.

——

I made it to his house in quick enough time that he was putting on his cap before heading out the door when he saw me there on his doorstep. My red lipstick like a trail of blood in the snow and my dark chestnut hair flying through the cold air of Russia. I was the light in these dark times for him- and even he knew how much power I had over him.

I was shivering, when he saw me standing there on his doorstep like a lost child he didn’t say a word- just grabbed me and led me inside his home where he then caressed my shoulders and began to question what I was doing. I brushed it off and lied- saying that I missed him and needed him now more than ever.

“Krupskaya came to my home and she-“

“There is no need for talk of her. I want to hear about you.”

I chuckled internally; men can be so stupid! I attempted to hide my smile when talking about Nadezhda as images of our night together flashed through my mind like cinema.

“Well, what happened to Nad- Krupskaya? Did she truly leave you behind?”

He sighed at my mention of her again and looked at the kitchen she had abandoned.

“Worry not of her- she chose to leave me and go to God knows where.”

I knew exactly what would distract him enough for Nadezhda and Trotsky to sneak behind him.

I kissed him.

It was passionate, or at least that’s what he thought. I put all my anger into it, disguising it as sexual passionate love as I heard the quiet footsteps of Leon Trotsky follow behind him with what I could only presume was a metal pipe.