Boris x Putin

Prologue

It started on a Saturday morning, the mellow glow of the golden sun peered through the silky, translucent curtains. The sweet melody of humming birds awoke Boris from his lonely king sized bed. Today was just another day to him. He had no idea what was coming.

At the same time, Putin stumbled out of his bed startled by the piercing sounds of violent collision and conflict. Putin never looked forward to the day when waking up and just like Boris today was no different to him either.

Boris gently combed his yellow - tinted, straw like hair and put on his favourite navy suit. His greyish, blue eyes narrow and hooded told a tale of a thousand heartbreaks. A lonely man branded by sorrow and torment (courtesy of his past lover). As the Prime Minister, he just had to deal with it as today was a busy day as he was due to meet the Leader of Russia ... Putin.

Putin on the other hand was in no rush, he gazed longingly out of his large window at the abyss of a once lively city. Drained of colour and freedom by his corrupt leadership. Yet, despite being such a cold - blooded human, a small fired burned deep in his charred soul. The flames a palette of crimson and burgundy, bouncing and floating as they wait for that someone .. that one .. the one that will make them ignite and burst into a pit of pure ecstasy. After a brief pause, Putin swiftly put on an ashy suit and made his way to his plane.