Good Boy, Bitch

Himayura Hidekaz owns Hetalia.
Warning- May contain some racial slurs or "speaking the lord(s) name in vain." I don't mean to offend ANYONE! Thank you.
I'm~ just fucking with history here~! Again~~!
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Spain lost track of the days he was trapped on this ship by England. He's been getting more and more obedient by the day, learning that the more obedient he is, the more privileges he gets. Rather it's the amount of food he gets, or something simple like laying on England's lap, with one of the said captian's hands in his hair, the other tightly holding on to the end of the leash.

He also learned that if he does fight back, he will recieve pain. He's been raped everyday, rather he was good or not, but on bad days it would hurt. With nothing but a dagger for "preparation," getting him to bleed, and getting his anus cut and widen enough to fit anyone's length. That happened on the second day, and his ass still hurts from it.

Then on the third day, England decided to carve his name into Spain's back. It wasn't too deep of a carving. Just deep enough to last for atleast a few more days.
Or... Would it be a few more days? Or perhaps another week? He can't remember. After the third day, he lost track of them.

'Oh well...' He thought to himself. At the moment, he just wanted to stay like this- laying down on England's lap, watching the sunset. He wasn't quite broken, just tired. He didn't even know where they were going.

"Isn't the sunset beautiful, Antonio?"

"Si..." He replied tiredly.

"Do you know that it's been a week since you were first brought here?"

'A week, huh?' "I did not."

"Captian!" The man at the helm yelled. "French ships are approaching!"

"Shit!" England stood up and started dragging Spain into a prison cell below deck. He forced the Spanaird inside and slipped the chain through the bars to the outside. He wrapped the chain around one of the bars before locking links together with a lock, and then he finally locked the cell door altogether before hiding the keys under a bunch of sacks of sand that were in a corner.

Spain was left alone, confused but not really caring. He soon heard screaming in different languages, metal clashing against metal, and so on. He eventually fell asleep on the wooden floor, exhausted from the past week.
~~~
When Spain woke up, the first thing he noticed was the fact that his hands were free from ropes. The second being that he was also completely bare, minus the thin, white blanket that slid off of him when he sat up. The third, the chain and leash were gone.

He was still in a cell, though it had someone guarding it, who looked at him before leaving. The cell looked a bit different, as well. The light was dimmer, and he could tell that the cell itself was smaller.

"Allo, mon cher~!" Cried a voice that was very different from England's. Spain quickly wrapped himself up with the blanket that was given to him. "I heard you woke up, so I came to see... You look confused."

"I am confused..."

France smiled at the other man. "To make a long story short, we found you, cut the collar and ropes off, and brought you to our ship."

"...Why?"

"Pour quoi? Parc que* you were l'Angelterre's prisoner, that's why."

"Angelterre..." Inglaterra? England? ...Are you... France?"

'Shit! I slipped up...' "Are you supposed to be a "personification" of a nation?" He asked seemingly sarcastically.

"Are you supposed to be one?"

Blue eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"I'm Spain."

The Frenchman grin widen from ear-to-ear. "How did you guess that I'm France?"

"England's crew screamed "the French boats are coming," and you referred to him as "Angelterre."

"Ah..." France unbuttoned his jacket. "Well, we'll be heading to France soon. Spain's just south of it, non?"

"I-I think so."

"Bon. You'll beable to return home safely then." France unlocked the cell door. "Let me see that blanket, s'il vous plait."

Spain's eyes widen. "No!" He screamed. He curled up in the small, thin "blanket" to get a better grip at it.

France frowned at this. "I think you'll prefer my jacket over that sheet, don't you? That blanket is so thin, I bet my men will beable to see practically all of you- again."

Spain eventually complied by dropping the blanket, and France kept his promise by giving Spain his jacket to cover-up with. He was led out on the deck, and into another room with much more color. The door was locked behind them. France grabbed the other's chin.

"Espagne! You have such beautiful eyes!" France leaned in close to kiss Spain's chapped lips, which made alarms go off in his head.

"No!" Spain pushed the Frenchman away. "Por favor, no! Otra vez no ... Por favor..."*

"Not again?" France looked at the cowering Spaniard. "Ah..." France crouched downt to Spain's level. "Let me see..." He put his hands on Spain's shoulder, who moved away from them right away.

"¡No!"

"I just wanna see!" France forcefully took the jacket off of him while being careful not to tear it. "Mon Dieu..."* He looked at all of the damage that was done by England, from his carving reading "Arthur Kirkland" on his back, down to his... "I'm sorry you had to endure what you did. I won't force anything upon you."

Spain didn't believe those words. He figured that, sooner or later, France would get needy and rape him in his sleep. "Why not? Didn't you capture me for this?"

"I "captured" you because of your cute face, and because you were Angelterre's prisoner, but I already told you that. Here." France set the jacket back on Spain's shoulders. "I bet you're hungry, after everything."

Spain stood up to button the long, fancy coat, relief to find that it goes down to his knees. "Just a little." He whipered. That was an understatement. He was starving, only having one "meal" a day in England's ship."

"Well then, let's go eat!"
~~~
"Eat all you want!" Spain looked at France, puzzled. "I mean it. Don't be shy. Eat to your heart's content!"

So he did. He ate enough to satisfy three grown men. After the late dinner, he was able to sleep on a bed after what seemed to be so long.

"Bon nuit, Espagne."* But Spain didn't hear him he fell asleep fast as soon at his body hit the soft bed. France chuckled and wrapped his arms around his new Spanish prize.
~~~
Spain was with France's crew for two months now. They were able to get him clothes from a nation they were trading goods with. They fed him well, and never once did France touch him sexually. He wanted to repay the favor.

"France..." He said, once they were alone in the room again.

"Oui, mon cher?"

Spain walked up to him and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "Is... Is it possible... For it to feel good, to both partners?"

"Ouais! Of course... But, why are you asking me?"

"I... I just wanna say... "Thanks," somehow..."

"You're company is repayment enough..."

"But you've been treating me so well, and I haven't done anything for you... B-Besides... You wanted this, right?"

"Not if you don't want it... Do you want it?" France smirked at his sarcastic remark.

Spain's answer was another, harder kiss on the lips. "If you can make me feel good..."

"Of course I can! I'm the country of amour,* after all! But... If you don't feel comfortable, then tell me. I don't want to force you to do anything."

"Shut up already! I want to, okay?" Spain's tongue slipped in France's mouth, fighting with his tongue. France's hands slid down to Spain's ass, squeezing it.

Beautiful.

This man- his lover, was so beautiful. His long, wavy blonde hair, those blue eyes... The way he knows just where to go to make the Spanish man arch his back in pleasure.

What a cute face.

The face the Spaniard makes whenever the Frenchman hits all the right spots was too cute not to mark it as his- consensually, of course.

The noise.

The room fills with the noise of two men moaning in pleasure. The Spaniard wonders how it can feel so good. The Frenchman tells him that it's "the magic of love."

Two words slips from the Spaniard's mouth.

"Te amo."* He wasn't sure if he meant it, though, but right now, he'll love anyone who can make him feel so good.

The blonde smiles.

"J'amour vous, aussi."*

Another month passes, and the Spaniard was finally able to return home. Home was nice, though he spent most of his free time with the Frenchman.

His savoir.

His lover.
APHAPHAPH
Translations*
(French)
"Pour quoi? Parce que" - "Why? Because"
"Mon Dieu" - "My God"
"Bon nuit, Espagne" - "Good night, Spain"
"Amour" - "Love"
"J'amour vous, aussi" - Literally "I love you, also"
(Spanish)
"Por favor, no! Otra vez no ... Por favor" - "Please, no! Not again... Please"
"Te amo" - "I love you"