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Force	By : WhisperWeeper Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2433 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Hetalia and the characters are not mine, they belong to Himaruya, and I make no profit from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Force
- 1
“YOU GODDAMN COMMUNIST!!”

Russia ducked just in time to avoid the heavy book flying at him, the blonde sitting next to him flinching. Hearing the object slam forcefully into the wall behind him, the white-haired man slowly turned his gaze across the conference table. Slicing through the tense atmosphere, angry blue eyes bore themselves into his mauve ones. The room went silent.

“Da, comrade America?” Russia spoke lowly, threateningly, a dark aura radiating off him.

“You bastard, get away from my brother!” America hissed, his eyes flashing violently. Russia’s eyes widened just the tiniest bit before his glare deepened.

He felt the smaller man in question twitch reflexively next to him, a small gasp escaping him. “A-Alfred!” Canada squeaked quietly. “What are you—!”

“Stay out of this, Mattie,” the blonde growled. He never took his eyes of the Russian. “Can’t you see he’s trying to corrupt you?”

How stupid is he? Russia grimaced—more out of annoyance than anything else. He sighed, waving his hand dismissively as he turned back to the Canadian. “We’re just discussing each other’s foreign policy, тупица.”

“Don’t lie to me, commie!” America slammed his hands down on the table, causing a good sized crack to appear in the wood. Several of the other countries jumped and were beginning to become uncomfortable. Usually the American was never this hostile unless it was wartime—usually he was laughing and cracking jokes, stuffing his face with hamburgers and coming up with outrageous ideas.

“Alfred,” Canada said timidly, his white bear squirming with uneasiness in his arms. “We r-really were just talking about each other’s policies. P-Plus . . . h-he’s not a communist anymore, b-brother.”

Another slam, making the crack root its way up into the center of the table with his unnatural strength. England immediately stood, resting a hand on his shoulder and whispering into the blonde’s ear as he tried to get him to calm down. America just shook him off—nearly sending him to the floor—and grabbed the Englishman’s book. “Don’t you dare take his side, Mattie.”

“I’m n-not—!”

“LIAR!! You’re defending him!” The American’s words bit into the air, cutting into the Canadian. The small blonde flinched again as the book came soaring at him.

CRASH!

BAM!

CRAAAAACK!

It all happened in a blur. Russia stood up so fast that his chair was sent falling to the ground as he yanked the Canadian behind him. He swatted the book away, sending it sailing somewhere towards China to his right, hearing the man yelp as he jumped out of the way. A heavy snow boot rose up and kicked the conference table, sending it scraping across the tile at the American. The furious blonde smashed his fist down on the wood just as it reached him, completing the crack to the other side and making it collapse on the ground in front of him in two pieces.

First of all, there was just stunned silence. None of the countries seemed to know what to do next considering most just made a narrow escape at being crushed. Next came all the flustered protests and outcries shot at the fighting pair.

“Alfred, what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“V-Vanya, please calm down . . .”

“You dumb brutes, aru!”

“You stupid American, look what you did to ze poor table. Mon dieu!”

“R-Russia looks s-scary a-a-again . . .”

“Latvia! Don’t say that!”

“ALL RIGHT EVERYBODY CALM DOWN!!!” Germany shouted, his voice echoing throughout the room. The countries quieted down somewhat, murmuring to themselves.

Russia finally broke his staring match with America and leaned down to pick up his fallen chair, unconsciously still gripping the Canadian’s arm. “I think this meeting’s over, da?” Setting the chair right, he slowly let go of the small blonde and met his gaze. “We’ll discuss things later,” he muttered, waiting for the boy to nod. Sending one last glance to the American, he strode out of the meeting.

Hearing conversations starting up again behind him, Russia was half tempted to run back there and bludgeon the American with his pipe as he began to shout at his brother. Not only was America aggravating him, but he was also acting incredibly weird. He hadn’t even done anything to anger the American and the blonde thinks he has the right to snap at him. Ha! Russia sped down the hallway to his room before he actually did turn around.

Slamming his door shut, he kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his coat. The room felt too warm and, as his fury rose, he debated whether or not to punch the wall or break the desk. But then he’d have to pay for damages. Fuck. Instead, he just stepped over and fell back onto the bed.

Why did he care what happened to Canada anyway? They had no relationship other than work associates. Hell, half the time he never saw the Canadian! He’d be there one minute and then all of a sudden disappear.

That kid would make an excellent spy, Russia thought fleetingly.

But still, maybe it was because anything the American did just pissed him off. Especially when he got angry at other countries over pointless things—like yelling at China that he didn’t bring enough snacks, or at England for fixing his tie for him, or at France for groping him. Ok, that one doesn’t count. But damn, America was like a thorn in his side.

He’s probably still yelling at his brother for talking to the Russian, even if it was just business matters. An image popped in his mind of Canada shaking in front of the American, clutching that polar bear that he always has with him, too intimidated and quiet to speak up. Russia pictured himself reaching out to comfort the Canadian, his fingertips brushing along the boy’s trembling pink lips, feeling his soft cheek in his palm . . .

The fuck are these thoughts?!

Russia growled, sitting up on the edge of his bed. “I need some vodka,” he decided aloud, standing up and stretching. He just wanted to drown himself out to the world and go to sleep. All these complicated thoughts about America—and the new ones concerning Canada—were giving him a headache.

Walking over to where his coat lay draped on the back of the room office chair, he rifled through the pockets and pulled out his flask. Frowning, he shook it, only sensing that there was about a quarter of it left. Just a sip. That won’t be enough to get him drunk. He downed it anyway, enjoying the liquid as it burned its way down his throat, warming his stomach.

Violet eyes were just beginning to scan the room in search of a mini bar when a soft knock sounded at his door. Confusion spread through him as he walked over to it cautiously. Who would be coming to see him? If it was one of his sisters he didn’t feel like dealing with them right now—especially considering he’d upset Ukraine pretty badly at the meeting. He’d even made her cry. He sighed again. She was still afraid of him. Completely opposite of Belarus. Oh god, if it was Belarus . . .

Peeking through the peephole just to be safe, his brows furrowed in suspicion as he didn’t spot anyone. Opening the door carefully, he glanced back and forth down the hallway to see who might have knocked. No one. Damn hearing . . .

Just as he was shutting the door, something shiny caught his eye and he looked down at the ground to spot a dark glass bottle. Picking it up slowly, he noticed that there was a small card tied around the neck with a red ribbon. He walked back into his room, kicking the door shut behind him as he read the neatly scrawled letters:

Dear Russia,

Sorry for the way my brother was acting earlier,

I don’t know what was up with him.

Thank you very much for defending me.

Sincerely, Matthew~

He even put the little squiggle. How cute.

Russia allowed himself a small smile as he opened the bottle curiously. Knowing that the Canadian used to be under France’s care, he expected it to be some sort of wine. But as the cap popped off and a familiar sharp scent floated up to him, he half thought that Canada was a godsend as he took a large gulp.

Vodka. Not the usual brand he drank, but well enough.

It usually took a lot more than a bottle to get someone like Russia drunk, let alone knocked out. But as that final drop of alcohol slid onto his tongue, the last thing he remembered was the floor coming up to greet him.

…xXx…

It seemed as if he was floating in the cool nothingness of darkness, endless waves of shadow lapping across his skin. Russia’s head was foggy and he felt numb, unable to figure out what was going on. As he tried to remember what he was doing before he’d blacked out, he heard a voice calling softly.

Wake up . . .

He felt the slight brush of something feather-like across his cheek and he jumped. Or, well, he think he did. He couldn’t tell because his mind was still muddled. Then suddenly, a single point of light appeared in the darkness. He layed still in the dark, gazing upward at the point of light as it began to grow. Good. Now he was finally starting to return to consciousness.

First things first when waking up from a black out. One, your senses come back to you tenfold. Your hearing detects the tiniest things—everything seems too loud—and you can taste whatever you ate last in the back of your throat. Two, your body hums back to life and anything you touch feels rough, irritating your skin. And finally, once you open your eyes, the light bites into your retina and blinds you momentarily.

Russia blinked furiously, trying to clear his blurry vision. The throbbing in his head caused by the light and sound induced migraine wasn’t really helping either. His light breathing seemed to echo around him, ringing in his ears. From what he could tell, he was currently leaning up against something like a wall in a dark room that was only lit from a light outside the window. A weight felt as if it was pushing down on his chest, making it hard for him to take in some much needed air. As the last of his sight cleared, he spotted something and glanced down at himself to see what it was.

And, oh god, he wasn’t expecting a person.

A naked one at that.

Jumping in surprise yet again, Russia winced as a slight pain cut into his wrists and he looked up to see thick shackles clasped around them. He tried giving a sharp tug but his arms stayed aloft and connected to the wall. In defeat for now, he looked back down at the man laying on him. A head of tussled blonde hair rested on his chest with a smooth, pale-skinned back arching down into the Russian’s lap. As he adjusted himself so he was sitting more upright, jostling the person on him a bit, the blonde’s head rose slowly.

Canada.

He could tell that much, even though there was some sort of metal contraption wrapped around his eyes. Confusion running through the Russian even more now, he tried to speak but found that there was a similar steel device hooked over his mouth. Grunting in frustration, he tried breaking the chains again. What the hell? He thought, giving a sharp tug. It shouldn’t be this difficult to break these damn chains!

“Good, you’re awake,” Canada murmured, causing Russia to pause. His quiet voice sounded louder than usual, probably due to the fact that the Russian was amidst a hangover of sorts.

The small blonde sat up on his lap and he couldn’t help himself as his purple eyes gazed him up and down. The boy was . . . exquisite. His pale skin gave off a soft glow from the moonlight leaking through the drapes behind him, lighting up all of his gentle curves. He was built nice, not overly muscular but not completely weak looking either. His smooth chest graced down over a toned stomach into his naval. As his eyes continued down, a warm buzz began to flow through his veins and his vital regions got hard. Dammit.

“I have no choice about this,” the Canadian said, his cheeks sporting a healthy blush. He scooted backwards a bit and started to unbutton the larger man’s slacks. What on earth is he doing? The Russian’s eyes widened considerably as Canada slid them off down his legs, tossing them off to the side. The blonde moved back up and gripped the top of the Russian flagged boxers, pulling it down and revealing the man’s now painful erection. “Please forgive me.” The hell! He wouldn’t—

Russia failed at containing the moan that escaped him as the Canadian slid onto him. He . . . He’s so tight. A beautiful gasp escaped the blonde and he tensed up, impossibly getting tighter around the Russian. The larger man fought to keep himself from speeding up the process, somehow resisting the urge to just thrust up into the poor Canadian. Usually he would just take anyone without a second thought, loving the sounds of their desperate screams and cries. So since when did he become this considerate?! But . . . it was obvious that the boy was in pain—the fact that he was clawing at the Russian’s pale blue shirt and the sight of blood trickling down as Canada finally took him all in made violet eyes widen.

He’s a goddamn virgin, he realized quickly.

“J-Just give m-me a mi-minute,” the Canadian panted, hunching over and resting his forehead on the man’s chest.

Anger began to flood him, beating out some of his other emotions and most of his hangover. Russia’s hand balled into fists and he desperately pulled on the thick shackles, careful not to move his hips too much. Who the fuck would do this to him?! he thought, a growl starting up in his throat. The metal around his wrists were starting to warp, strained by the massive pressure pulling on them. I swear, when I find out who’s done this to him, I’m going to murder them!

“W-What are you do-doing?” Canada asked. His voice sounded faint as he lifted his head back up, wincing as he straightened. Russia barely heard him as he struggled to break free. His eyes were beginning to cloud with red, his rage increasing as the seconds ticked by. Terrible thoughts of what he was going to do to the mysterious perpetrator swam in his mind, fueling him on. The metal couldn’t hold out forever. Almost there—

SNAP!

As soon as his wrists were free from the cuffs, he gripped the damned thing around his mouth. He quickly found a switch and unsnapped it, throwing it angrily to the side. Russia wrapped an arm around the frozen Canadian and flipped their positions, trying to lay the boy as gently as he could on his back. It didn’t do much though.

“Aaah—AH!” Canada screamed, his back arching and his fists nearly ripping the silk it clung to. Russia unhooked the steel blindfold from the boy, tossing it aside, revealing his eyes that were currently squeezed shut from the pain.

“Open your eyes, Matvey,” he ordered softly, remembering the Canadian’s name just in time. He was desperately trying to keep his anger—and lust—under control, keeping his arm loose around the blonde’s waist.

Canada froze beneath him, his hands releasing the fabric of Russia’s shirt instantly. Pained eyes opened slowly, the tears that have now appeared making the light blue orbs glossy. His expression ranged from shock, to fear, to anguish and he barely managed to whisper, “R-Russia?” before he broke down in a sob. His hands came up to cover his face but the Russian just took them both into his free hand, letting the Canadian grasp it as hard as he wanted.

“Who did this to you?” Russia demanded lightly.

“I-I don’t kn-know . . .”

He grimaced. “Are you sure? It wasn’t your ass of a brother, was it?”

“N-No, I di-didn’t s-see who-who it wa-was. I-I-I . . . I-I’m s-s-so so-sorry, R-Rus-Russia-a, I-I . . .” Canada choked out, his stuttering worse now more than ever. His crying caused him to wince as he still had the Russian inside of him. The larger man considered pulling out but figured that it would just hurt the Canadian even more now in his hysteric state—not taking into account the fact that he was still buzzing with lust.

He felt his anger being melted away by the tears streaming down the Canadian’s blushing face. Russia couldn’t stop himself as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the boy’s lips. “Shhh, Matvey, shhh . . .” he tried his best to comfort, not really good at this sort of thing. This whole situation just seemed to be spiraling out of control, becoming more and more confusing. Why did he seem to care so much anyway?

But as soon as he felt the small blonde’s arms snake around his neck and trembling lips meeting his again, it suddenly came to him why. This Canadian, this boy, had somehow latched onto his heart, threatening to pull it right out of his chest. He didn’t know when it had happened, but he just knew it had. He felt a bit of his old self coming back, messing with his thought process.

He wanted to make Canada his. To have him fully become one with him—more than he already was.

Properly this time.

Russia waited patiently until the Canadian’s sobs had calmed, leaving him a pile of sniffles beneath him. “Matvey? May I ask something of you?”

“Yes?” Canada muttered softly, pulling back a little to stare up at him with wet eyes.

Russia moved him into a sitting position to stand up while he talked, hoping to distract him. “Since this is clearly your first time,” he paused, taking a mental picture of the cute blush that flamed out on Canada’s cheeks as he said that. “I want to make it up to you. You were forced into this, so it should be your choice.” Odd—he’d never given anyone a choice before.

Canada hiccupped, resting his head on a pale shoulder. He wrapped his arms tighter around the Russian, his legs following suit as the larger man stood carefully. Neither of them could keep their moans hidden as the movement triggered an arousing response between them. The Canadian cleared his throat, quite embarrassed. “W-What would be m-my choice?”

“Whether or not I make love to you,” Russia stated simply, heading for the nearby bed.

“W-W-Wait a minute! What?!” He couldn’t help but smile as the Canadian sputtered in surprise. He set the blonde gently down onto the soft sheets, finally pulling out of the smaller man. They both shivered from the loss, Canada squirming uncomfortably as he was beneath the Russian yet again. Blue orbs drifted unsure, glancing around the room nervously—anywhere but at the man above him. “W-What exactly are you a-asking me?”

“Precisely that,” Russia murmured, moving to sit and gaze down at the moonlit man before him. He began to unwrap his scarf, folding it neatly and setting it on the bedside table to keep it safe. He started to unbutton his shirt, also. “It’ll hurt at first, Matvey, but it will get better. Such a kind person like you deserves to not go through life scarred like this. I will make it as best as I can.” Ok, if he was being completely honest with himself, he just really wanted to fuck the Canadian as hard as he could. The boy looked too seductive to refuse. And it had been quite awhile since he’d taken anyone, made them one with him—not since the Baltics left his home. “So,” he continued after discarding his last bit of clothing and switching his thoughts. “What is your answer, Matvey? Da, or . . .” He leaned down and kissed the blonde’s shoulder. “Da?”

Canada finally looked at him after that, blue orbs locking themselves with amethyst ones. Russia couldn’t hold out much longer, his erection was starting to become painful. Not to mention the boy had his own to worry about. The blonde must have noticed the longing in his violet eyes, his hunger for the Canadian, because he nodded shakily and leaned up to place a shy kiss on his nose. “O-Oui.”

Despite the Russian’s sigh of relief, he asked, “Are you sure? It will hurt,” he repeated.

Another nod, and this time a smile, too, graced his angelic face. “Better you now than anyone else later,” Canada whispered. Russia’s eyes widened slightly at the statement. His small fingers brushed along the Russian’s lips. “J-Just be gentle?”

Russia nodded quickly and at last gave in to his desire, sinking down and claiming those tantalizing pink lips as his own. A small whimper escaped the Canadian but he soon wrapped his arms back around the man’s neck, pulling him closer. The Russian’s hands split up—one trailing down the boy’s stomach and the other weaving itself into lovely golden hair. He tugged a certain curl and the blonde’s mouth opened in a large moan, muffled by the other’s lips. Russia took the opportunity and dipped his tongue into the hot, wet cavern, greedily exploring his mouth.

His other hand caused the Canadian to break the kiss, gasping as he began to stroke the blonde up and down. “O-Ohhh . . .” Canada shuddered, thrusting up into the Russian’s hand reflexively. Russia took hold of his lips once again as the blonde started to rock his hips to the movement. As precum leaked out over his fingers, he removed his hand away. Canada groaned in disappointment, trailing after Russia’s lips as he broke the kiss.

“Nyet.” Russia pressed three fingers on his lips to stop him as he kissed his way down the small, soft chest and down his stomach. Hovering over the boy’s erection, he glanced up to meet his blue gaze. Pressing on Canada’s lips with his fingers, he commanded, “Suck.”

A trembling hand came up and grabbed hold of the Russian’s wrist. Canada nibbled on the tips of his fingers for a moment before slowly taking them in his mouth. After a few minutes of watching the erotic sight of the Canadian sucking and wetting his fingers, Russia pulled them back—either deeming them good enough or just impatient to continue, he couldn’t tell which. Pushing slightly on the other’s chest in a signal for him to lay back, he continued.

Positioning a finger at the boy’s entrance, he lowered his mouth around the Canadian’s erection and pushed the digit in. Canada couldn’t help but cry out; the double stimulation nearly sending him over the edge right then and there. His hands flew down and tangled themselves into Russia’s white hair as he tried to get a hold of himself. After a moment of moving the first finger around gently, he pressed the second finger in, testing to see how the Canadian reacted. Another gasp escaped the blonde and he tensed up, his slight fingers tightening on Russia’s hair. The Russian slowed in his endeavors, trying not to hurt the Canadian even more than he already was, and instead focused on pleasing the boy as he began to move the fingers in and out. The blonde relaxed after a few moments and started rocking his hips, more moans and gasps sounding from him. Russia took that as an ok and gradually added another finger.

The Russian’s tongue swirling around him, the man’s free hand coming up to play with his nipples, and the multiple fingers now moving inside of him were finally all too much for the Canadian. He came hard in the other’s mouth with a scream of, “RUSSIA!”

The white-haired man eagerly swallowed up all that he had coaxed out of him as the blonde collapsed back onto the bed. Keeping his fingers pumping inside of the Canadian, Russia sat up to give his exhausted partner a quick kiss. He loved the fact that even though Canada looked ready to fall asleep and was breathing heavily, his hips still moved to his fingers. “Ready?” he whispered against the boy’s lips, retracting his fingers.

“Y-Yes,” Canada panted, his arms moving back to their place around the Russian’s shoulders. “Please h-hurry . . .”

“Da, with pleasure.” Making sure to position himself just right, Russia gave one last kiss before he pushed himself into the Canadian once again.

As both moaned with pleasure, Russia didn’t fail to notice how Canada dealt with the intrusion much better than the last time. His arms tightened and his legs hooked around the man’s waist, bringing him in even deeper. He feels so good . . .

He didn’t have to wait long before he heard the quiet, “Move . . .” He complied almost instantly, pulling back out until only the tip was left in before slamming back inside. Canada gasped each time as Russia repeated the action, getting faster and faster. “R-Russiaaaaa . . .” the Canadian whispered, his breath hitching.

“Ivan,” the larger country rasped, leaning down and claiming those pink lips as his yet again. He was the only one to have the satisfaction of doing this to the boy and he wanted to hear him say his name. He broke his kiss with the blonde, staring sincerely into those oceanic eyes. “My name is Ivan.”

A beautiful smile graced Canada’s lips and he pulled the Russian in closer. “I-Ivan,” he panted as the man thrust into him again.

“You’re mine,” Russia growled, possessively biting down on the blonde’s neck, plunging in deeper and faster. The kid was his. And no one else would have him. No one.

“I thought v-virgins were supposed to b-be the clingy o-ones—AAAH!” The man hit a certain pot within him, causing the Canadian to cry out and see stars as they impossibly went faster. The Russian growled again—sound like a feral animal—and bit him harder, thrusting harder, licking that tender spot on his neck where blood now dripped. So much for gentle. Another thrust and he screamed. “Ah! Ah—ok, o-ok, I-I’m yours. Oh god I’m yours.”

Soon the bed was rocking beneath them as he pounded into the blonde as hard as he could, finding that sweet spot that caused him to scream over and over again. Canada’s nails bit into his skin and his legs tightened around his waist as the boy was finally driven over the edge and plunged into ecstasy.

“IVAN!!”

Russia came not a second later, filling the Canadian to the brim with a loud groan. He supported himself on his elbows so as not to crush the boy beneath him. The heated air was filled with heavy panting and kisses as they both calmed down. A few moments passed and they just stayed as they were—holding each other close.

Canada somehow tightened his grip around the Russian, pulling him deep again. He looked up with hot, seductive blue eyes, a beautiful blush still splashing his cheeks. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, his breath ghosting over the man’s face.

“Again?”

Russia smiled a true smile then, muttering, “Da.” He began to move.

…xXx…

Russia awoke slowly to the sounds of birds chirping and light breathing. The glare of the sunlight from behind the drapes annoyed him, turning the insides of his eyelids red. He growled in frustration and rolled over, hoping to get some more sleep. A small sigh caught his tired mind’s attention and, despite his inner protests, he flicked his eyes open.

Canada was sound asleep next to him. The sunlight coming through the window behind the Russian cascaded down, lighting up the boy’s adorable face and giving his golden hair a saintly glow. It seemed as if a light blush was permanently painted across his nose, giving him an innocent look about him.

Though, he’s not so innocent now, Russia thought, his lips twitching up in a smile. Reaching out, he ran his fingers through silky blonde locks, cupping the Canadian’s cheek. He felt something stir in his chest, a slight tugging on the edges of his heart. In the past, if he ever felt something like this, he would just rip out the organ and leave it alone for a few days. Now, he let himself indulge in the odd feeling as he gazed upon his prize.

Canada was his. Matvey is his. No one would take this precious jewel away from him.

BAM BAM BAM!!! “Mattie! You awake? Open up!”

Russia couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him at the intrusion on his peace. His hand slipped out of Canada’s hair just as the boy opened his sleepy eyes. The Russian managed to conceal his frown, his eyes softening as he murmured, “Good morning, подсолнух.”

“Morning.”Canada closed his eyes again, scooting closer to nuzzle up under the white-haired man’s chin. “Mmm . . . Who’s at the door so early?”

“Mattie! Come on, I know you’re in there!”

The Canadian groaned, moving to try and get out of bed but the Russian held him tight. He nipped at an earlobe gently, causing the blonde to shiver. “Want me to get rid of him?” he breathed, practically begging for permission to go out there and beat the crap out of the dumb American. How dare he show up!

Canada paused for a moment, debating whether or not this would cause a problem. It probably would. He didn’t feel like moving, though, his muscles were sore and his back had massive kink in it. He finally gave in after a minute, sighing. “Please.”

“Da, I’ll be right back.” Russia flashed a grin and rolled out of bed. He snatched his black pants off of the ground and began to put them on as America pounded on the door again.

“Maaaaaattiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!!” the country whined, sounding like a little child. “I’m sorry about yesterday, I really am! Come on, Mattie! You don’t hate me now, do you?”

“Nyet, he doesn’t hate you,” Russia said cheerfully, swinging the door open just as America was about to knock again. “But I do.”

The American’s face was priceless. His mouth gaped open and his eyes practically flew out of their sockets as the Russian leaned against the doorframe in front of him. The hand that was still raised to knock turned into an accusing finger, his voice rising several octaves. “What the hell are you doing here, commie?!”

The white-haired man just smiled, enjoying the younger nation’s discomfort and shock. He was just about to make a smart remark about how the American really didn’t want to know when he spotted a figure coming up the hallway towards them. His heart jumped.

“Oh, is this Canada’s room?”

America surprisingly paused in his rage and turned around to see Ukraine beside him. His cerulean eyes met hers and he instantly went into a fit, waving his hand maniacally at the Russian. “Yo, chick! Do you know anything about your bastard brother being in my brother’s room?!”

Ukraine looked confused for a moment before she looked up at her brother. Her eyes widened and her boobs bounced slightly as she lifted a hand to cover her mouth in surprise, sporting a bright blush. “Oh my . . .” she whispered.

Russia glanced down at himself. His pants were on but he hadn’t bothered to zip them up so a bit of his naval was showing, not to mention that his chest and stomach were spotted with bruise-like hickeys and red marks, especially on his neck. Probably the thing that caught his eyes the most, though, was all the sticky cum on him. He’d forgot to wipe it off. Oh well.

However, when America followed her gaze and actually looked at him for the first time that morning, he was pretty sure that the entire world could feel the earthquake racking through his skull. Russia was never one to back down from a fight, but when the American’s eyes turned a toxic red the white-haired man took that instant to slam the door just as the blonde crashed into it.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!!!”

Russia felt kind of bad for leaving Ukraine out there as he slid the deadbolt through and leaned against the door to give it some extra strength. He silently thanked the hotel for having metal doors. Nothing says ‘safe’ like reinforced steel.

Not that it mattered to the American.

The Russian was pretty sure that the entire hotel full of countries could hear the enraged blonde’s shouting. “You son of a bitch! Open this damn door!!” *slam* “I swear on my heroism and my brother’s lost virginity that I am going to nuke you into oblivion. OBLIVIAN!!” *slam* “Not even goddamn ash will be left of you!!”

Russia looked up from his position at the sound of a yelp, glancing over to see that Canada had fallen onto the floor. “What’s going on?” the blonde squeaked, embarrassed. He quickly grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around himself, somehow still self-conscious about being naked around the Russian even though they’d spent all night entirely nude. Standing carefully, the Canadian winced at the pain, his legs wobbling.

“Oh, you know. Your brother didn’t feel like leaving quite yet.” Taking a minute to make sure the door wasn’t going to fly off its hinges—America seemed to have endless energy in order to keep trying to break in, yelling insults all the while—Russia swiftly walked over toward his little jewel and scooped him into his arms.

Canada made a cute little noise of surprise, wincing a little bit again. Russia scowled, his eyes narrowing at the blonde in his arms. He ignored America’s slamming and screaming for the moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, w-what do you mean?” the Canadian asked quietly. His heart was beating so fast at the expression on Russia’s face, causing him to flinch at the man’s icy tone as he said:

“I hurt you, didn’t I?”

Canada’s eyes widened in response as he watched purple orbs cloud with anger and self-loathing.

“What? N-No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“W-Well, it wasn’t just y-you, you know,” Canada muttered, cringing as America strained the door again. His hands let go of the sheet, letting it drape over him, and he reached up to cup the Russian’s face. He tried to be convincing, looking sincerely into the man’s milky lavender eyes. “It’s more my fault than anything else. You gave me a choice and I chose yes. So please, don’t beat yourself up over it.”

The Canadian leaned up and kissed him shyly, pulling away a cute shade of pink. Russia sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed with the boy still in his arms. “You know,” he mused, staring intently at his blonde. “If you had been anyone else on top of me when I woke up last night, I would’ve just fucked you senseless without a second thought.”

“Well, t-technically you did,” Canada murmured, chuckling quietly as he became even redder. He looked down as he busied himself with wiping off the ‘mess’ on the white-haired man’s stomach with the sheet. His voice was really soft and could barely be heard over the loud American—who was very nearly ready just to bust through the non-metal wall. “I must have lost my senses if I’m no longer afraid of you.”

“You were afraid of me?” Russia allowed himself a smile, a few kol’s slipping out of him jokingly.

Canada fiddled nervously with the sheet, not meeting his gaze. “A-A little bit. I m-mean, you’re Russia s-so . . .”

“Mmm. Fair enough.”

BAM! “Dammit, COMMIE!”

“Russia, you wanker, I swear if you don’t open this bloody door I will castrate you!”

“Mon Matthieu! Are you alright in there, mon cheri?”

“Great. It looks like the rest of your family’s showed up,” Russia grumbled, petting the mortified Canadian’s hair.

“Broooootheeerrrrrr. Open this door, dear brother. That way I can kill whoever is keeping you away from me. BROTHER!”

An involuntary shiver ran through the Russian and his grip tightened on the blonde.

Canada laughed a little. “Looks like your family is here, too.” He nibbled on his lip nervously as he contemplated getting up. After a moment of hearing the countries outside the door continuing to throw a fit, the blonde sighed and wiggled his way out of the Russian’s arms, much to the man’s disappointment. Since it was his room, he went over to one of the dressers—trying not to wince—and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a white T-shirt with a red leaf on it.

“Mattie! Answer me, bro! MATTIE!!”

“Yeah, yeah, Al! I’m coming!” Canada shouted back—or, well, as loud as he could, anyway, what with his quiet voice and the strain from screaming the night before. The attempt made Russia smirk as he watched the blonde hastily try to get his clothes on.

He stood up and helped him get the shirt down over him, catching the boy’s attention as he wrapped his arms around him. His hand glided up beneath the fabric, making the Canadian pause, shivering. “You know,” the man said, kissing the boy’s neck. “You look much better with this off.”

“Y-Yeah, I know.” A bright pink took hold of the kid’s cheeks once more and he smiled, having to shake the Russian off again. The white-haired man frowned, violet eyes flashing as he spun the Canadian around to face him before crushing his lips against the blonde’s. A small squeak escaped the smaller country at the forcefulness and he couldn’t breathe.

“Mine.” Russia stared at the panting boy for a moment, still holding him close.

“Yours,” Canada said breathlessly. The answer was automatic, drilled into his mind—and body—from the night before. It was strange, being like this with someone he had barely known and feared 24hrs ago, but he didn’t dare go against the Russian—nor did he really want to. He liked feeling needed considering most of the time no one even saw him. The blonde smiled again, this time leaning up and kissing the taller man with his own mine. He pulled back to stare into those soft mauve eyes, pushing away from the man slowly this time. “I should probably go calm down my brother now before we have to pay damages to the hotel.”

Russia nodded and let go of him completely, turning to gather and put on his own clothes.

Canada turned and made his way over to the door, the pain in his back subsiding thankfully. He took a steadying breath, preparing himself, before he swung open the door. “Al, I—”

“Mattie!!” He found himself being tackled by his brother, all of the air being squeezed out of him.

Ok, scratch that. Back pain was way worse now.

America pulled back, his blue eyes wide with worry. “Oh thank god! That bastard didn’t hurt you did he?” His hands ran over him, inspecting for wounds.

Canada saw the man in question stiffen out of the corner of his eye, sliding on his thick tan coat. His vision was blocked before he could turn to him by an eager France as he was glomped again.

“Oh, mon petite Matthieu!!” the Frenchman cooed, pulling back to stare at him with wet eyes. He cradled his son’s face in his hands lovingly, his emotions getting the better of him. “You’re all grown up now, mon cheri,” he said, choking back sobs as he attacked him with another hug. “I’m so proud!”

“Proud!” England huffed. He stepped into view, his hands on his hips, emeralds blazing. “This is hardly the time to be proud, you git!” His eyes softened somewhat as they locked with the Canadian’s as he peeled the Frenchman off of him. Canada flinched, expecting a scolding. All he felt was a hand patting his head lightly and a heavy sigh. “Are you alright, son?”

He stared in shock at the Englishman. France moved to look at him expectantly with the man, wiping happy tears from his eyes. “I-I’m fine, papa,” he murmured, talking to both of them. He was touched they cared this much but . . . “It’s not like he’s a horse or anything—” He quickly realized what he was saying, his face reddening against his will. “Um, I-I mean . . . uh . . .”

France started giggling and England nearly face-palmed in embarrassment. America however, became as stiff as a board. Canada froze as he watched his brother turn his head slowly over to where the Russian was currently trying to pry Belarus off of him. Canada tensed, a bad feeling tingling up his spine as the American gritted his teeth, a low growl sounding from his throat.

“You . . .”

Icy blues met melting violets.

“GODDAMN YOU SON OF A OF BITCH!!!”

…xXx…

Kumajiro’s ear flicked as he padded across the expensive carpet. A man trailed a ways behind him as they followed weird loud noises down to where a group of people were standing out in the hallway shouting at each other. Both of them stopped short, a few doors down from the fray. The white bear did a human equivalent of a sigh and sat down, turning to look up at the man standing beside him. “What now?”

The man gave a curt nod, seeming satisfied with the brawling going on between two of the larger men. Swearing and punches aside, some of the smaller men tried to get in between the two. The man tore his gaze away from the others, turning to the bear with smiling brown eyes. “Well, how about you stay with me for a little while longer—at least until things cool down here.”

“Who are you again?” Kumajiro asked, letting the man pick him up. Cologne wafted up into his sensitive nose, making it twitch at the exotic smell.

The man gave a small chuckle and began to walk in the opposite direction of the mob. “How about we get something to eat?”

Kumajiro rested his chin on the man’s shoulder, blowing a piece of dark hair off his nose. He ignored the fact that the man didn’t answer his question at the mention of food. His stomach growled in response. “Ok.” The man grinned and nodded again. He was in high spirits and he stole one last glance to the two fighting superpowers behind them before stalking off.

“Revenge is sweet, aru.”
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