Chapter 15: Winston

Joseph was poised beside the bars of the little cell, attempting to formulate a secure course of action. The electricity flowing through the veins that decorated his chiseled yet colossal muscles burned with a sick thrill at the prospect of escape. The embarrassment at his capture could not fully eclipse the continued self assurance of the man of steel. He knew that, in the end, his love for Adolf Hitler would prevail; and all else would be reduced to dust. How could it be any other way? Despite how worrying his predicament may be, he was Joseph goddamn Stalin with a capital S and he always got what he wanted in the end...

Speaking of want...in the darkness he knew so well, he found himself forming a mental list of all the things he wanted to do to Adolf if, no when, he got out of here. He rationalised this to himself, deciding it would help the escape if he kept up his...morale. But the truth was he was a worm erotically gasping for relief beneath August soil, apathic to the pernicious glare of the sun, so long as it could feel the lustful embrace of the moist rain on its slippery membrane.

Suddenly, the cell lock clicked open. It was Churchill armed with a bottle of Smirnoff.

'Joseph. It's time we had a word, old friend.'

Stalin sprung to his feet (by the way he was barefoot (courtesy of a (British) soldier) and his sexy and masculine toes confidently stretched out to accommodate his weight with ease.) Joseph caught the Brit stealing a glance at his handsome trotters, failing to suppress the urge to lick his lips, which were stained with a suspicious white substance.

'Mister Churchill,' smiled Stalin courteously, 'Why not take a seat in this most humble abode? Perhaps on the floor or, if you're so obliged,  I may consider offering you my spot on the windowsill?'

'No, thank you.'

Stalin raised his plentiful brows. 'I insist...'

Churchill obliged, perching on the cold, stone floor. 'Would a drink please you, Joseph? I had my men procure the finest vodka, since you Russians take such a liking to it.'

Joseph eyed the bottle with suspicion. The Brits had notoriously bad taste in liquor (and other things). Why had he even allied with this guy in the first place? Adolf was so much cooler...

Churchill laughed at the Russian's expression. 'I'll have some first...that way you can see for yourself whether or not I've had it poisoned...'

He took a little sip, grimacing slightly at the taste. 'UGHGHGHGHGH! BLIMEY, THAT'S STRONG!'

At this, Joseph's interest was initiated. 'In that case, I'll have just a little.'

Churchill attempted to pass the bottle, although he was already drunk and so almost threw it at Joseph's well-defined face; the Russian had to grab hold of his trembling hand, saving the precious liquid from a tragic demise.

With a sexy growl, Joseph downed the entire bottle with one sensuous gulp. 'Wow, your vodka really is terrible. I would get better booze from letting a monkey mix some random chemicals together...'

Churchill chortled. 'WHERE ON EARTH YOU WOULD GET A MONKEY FROM, JOSEPH? YOU'RE HYSTERICAL.' 

Stalin rolled his striking eyes. 'Are you going to tell me where you're keeping Adolf, Churchill?'

Churchill gurgled loudly. 'Ah yessssss, the German. It's VERIFIED my beautiful BEAUTIFUL Russian...for all intents and purposes yes, he has ESCAPED. Yes, ESCAPED, my friend before you arrived EVEN! Gone without even a trace. And you see, my epic plan that I came up ALL ON MY own,' he began to convulse in a slightly odd manner, 'And I am not to tell you this, young man, as I will get all I want from you by pretending to have him locked up!! Haw haw haw. ISN'T THAT GENIUS???? Waaaaiiit what are you-'

But Joseph was already past Winston, running elegantly down the hall as the stunned (British) guards stared, lost for words at this most wonderful sight. They were so flabbergasted they didn't even think to reach for their rivals. He grinned to himself at how easy escaping had turned out to be. Almost too easy...

'Stop him! Stop him!' yelled a flushed Churchill, sobering up as he clumsily ran after the Russian, but to no avail.

'Come back!' he screeched, 'Come back, I have more vodka!'

Joseph was at the foot of the stairs now. He paused for a second, considering this. 'Adolf is my favourite vodka...'

'Joseph, there are plenty of sexually frustrated twinks who haven't started a world war and killed millions!' yelled Churchill, desperately clinging on to the rails as he caught his breath, 'And any one of them would be yours in a heartbeat...'

'But I want this one...' 

And with that, Stalin, like the Germans before him, disappeared into the London night, leaving Churchill alone in the tower. He sighed as he decided to take a short break from his strange role in this fanfiction to make himself a cuppa.