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If U Seek Alfred	By : CyreliaJ Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 3629 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own Hetalia or any of its characters. I’m also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Note: A thanks to everyone reading. All things considered this section while smut filled is pretty tame haha. Yeah a much longer wait than I said int he last part but I really have no excuses. C&C is always welcome!
Part 5
   Canada’s head turned so fast that he almost thought he’d given himself whiplash. Prussia cackled, almost falling out of his chair, and wasn’t it fitting that of the few people who could actually see him just had to be him. Canada heard him gasp out something in German between guffaws that he decided he was better off not knowing and decided it wasn’t worth the time to shoot him a dirty look that wouldn’t be paid any mind. He might not have been expecting that but it was a far from unpleasant surprise...
“You’re such a wretched little bugger.” Canada heard England above him and turned his head hiding the half smile behind a fall of blonde hair because that really wouldn’t fit his “punishment” right now. “You really don’t think I’m letting you off that easily, do you?” And this would normally be the point where America would make some stupid comment about “getting off” yet Canada noted his brother remained silent and god possibly even introspective. Sure, Matthew, and Francis decided not to come today because he was reading the stock exchange.
   The pads of Canada’s fingers pressed tightly to the hard surface of the table and he shook his head, trying not to allow his attention to wander with all the outward and even inward stimulus, whimpering as the folded over belt smacked his ass again in seeming chastisement to his distraction.
“Please, daddy…” He begged. “I won’t do it again…” Unless you promise to do that again… England slapped the back of his right thigh with the well worn leather quickly, effectively, and he nearly bit his lip biting back the gasp. Canada heard those loafers walking so crisply on the floor as England circled around beside him, trailing the soft belt over his ass and up his spine so lightly that he felt his skin prickle in response. Canada shivered: half in instinctual reaction, half in excitement as England took another indulgent drag from the pipe, blew the smoke in his face, and leaned in with a husky purr just for him.
   “Of course you won’t do it again, Matthew. Daddy is going to beat a little obedience into you the way your ineffectual ‘papa’ was too weak to do.” Pipe between his teeth he snapped the belt taut again, only his eyes lingering just long enough to gauge any reaction. Canada licked his lips, eagerly focusing on the belt but not without a barely noticeable flicker of his attention down to his crotch as if he might catch a naughty glimpse of- Did you really thing I was gonna walk about with my bloody knob hanging out? England almost shook his head- almost laughed- but kept his face impassive as Canada mouthed an almost disappointed “green”.
   “The frog,” England continued not quite hiding the amusement in his tone, “might have been too spineless to properly teach you. But you’ll learn, boy, that I’m not.” Canada nodded, squirming against the table and it only prompted England to take his time. He slowly palmed the bulge in front of his trousers where Canada could see, slowly, hardly doing himself any favors as fucking hard as he was. “Did I say you could look at me?” he asked the question with a dangerous air, his voice nearly a hiss in counterpoint to his earlier calm. England felt the eyes on him and he wanted to say screw the whole thing. Bugger America. Bugger the lot of them. But most of all, Matthew... bugger that willing little arse of yours that you keep shaking me. I can see just how much you’re bloody gagging for it.
   Canada took a shuddering breath and quickly turned his head away with a hasty apology. This was nearly as much performance as indulgence and it might not make a bit of difference to anyone but the two of them but Canada wasn’t about to let himself down. He wasn’t eloquent in writing, in speech, and somehow he thought even if he was handing America a diary of his inner most thought was more likely to elicit a yawn and a “too long didn’t read” rather than any sort of understanding. I want you to see me, Al. I need you to see me. All of me- everything you never knew about, maybe didn’t want to know about but... I need to know if you want me... me as a man, me as a hell of a lot more than the boring vanilla ice cream you seem to think I am. And if I lose you then I guess I just... Canada stared hard at the table and somehow he could feel America with him even so without seeing him. At least I’ll lose you as myself.
   America’s eyes had gone wide and stayed in a state of shock throughout the entire display and almost in that crazy twin bond he found himself wondering where in the fuck that had been hiding the last few years. I don’t know how the hell you his that from me, Mattie but you sure have a lot of nerve. I tell you I wanna get a little freaky and buy a pair of handcuffs and you act like I wanted to reenact “Two Girls One Cup”. I tell you I want more than just the same old hand job, blow job, fucking on the bed and you don’t even fucking answer me. What’s wrong with me that you couldn’t just be like ‘Hey Al, why don’t you paddle my ass and call me names in a British accent’? Which isn’t to say that he’d actually asked Canada but it wasn’t like his brother volunteered a whole helluva lot either. How in the hell was he supposed to know any of this crap with Canada just… just… And where did you learn half that shit anyway and what rhino did Eyebrows steal that fucking thing from?!
   Okay so he couldn’t really focus too well right now on A, B, or C. A at the present was nothing but Canada’s hot pink ass reminding him that even a five minute “boring old quickie” would be fan fucking tastic right about now. And B was the fact that he couldn’t seem to stop staring at England no matter how hard he tried. It so wasn’t helping that Russia was close enough that America could feel Siberia wafting off the asshole like someone was running the AC and that only made him aware of the rest of the Peanut gallery just waiting to have a go at his brother. His brother. God, Mattie would it have killed you to just… not do this here? Fuck if you needed that asshole Arthur fine sure I can deal with Arthur. He could deal with the guy who used to wash his mouth out with soap for cussing, who took the door off his room ‘cause he thought America was jacking off too much, and who was actually flattered when Spades developed out of Whist. ...And if anyone should’ve had the door taken off their room it was you, Eyebrows, not me.
   Those accented threats sounded so damn familiar when America heard them but England sure as hell never said that sort of stuff to him. He didn’t want to think too hard on it but something about that sharp tongue and that voice made him remember those near daily tongue lashings with a heat that was never there before. Thanks a lot, Mattie you’re gonna give me some weirdo complex too... Had he just been too young when he was England’s colony to get into all that? No, he’d grown a lot faster than Canada had so why- Okay, Al, back the hell up. Who cares if Eyebrows ever wanted to get into your pants or not? Especially with that thing it’d probably split you open like a fucking… Okay I am done with this line of thought! It was already hard enough before but now it just ached and throbbed in a way that almost made him believe those stories Prussia told him over two centuries ago about blue balls making it fall off. Fall off and make him lose his mind ‘cause when he watched England stroking it, when he heard the promise in England’s voice he just couldn’t help the jealousy. You asshole, Arthur! Why the hell don’t you want me I’m so much better than he is!
   “You’re going to count for me, boy,” England said at last cutting through both Canada and America’s straying thoughts. America would have time later for introspection and he wanted Canada to stay with him here. He made sure he kept Canada’s eyes on him as he walked around and the other didn’t disappoint. England rewarded him by letting the belt trail and tease again a light tickle over Canada’s back once more, enjoying the way muscles tensed and shifted. Let’s see you do that for Ivan, Matthew. Are you going to lay there just a wantonly, waiting for him to fuck your arse raw? The belt trailed over Canada’s right buttock and those back muscles were quivering hard now beneath soft skin and in moments like these it drove home that Canada was more America’s twin that one might think. His eyes fixed on that seductive dip of Canada’s lower back and not for the first time in his life he relished the control he had over that strength. Canada nodded after swallowing hard and replied with a lovely “y-yes daddy,” and England lashed over the back of Canada’s left thigh closing his eyes for a moment to savor the soft half squeak.
   “One,” Canada counted and this time England hit the center of that lovely arse with a practiced flick of his wrist listening for the “two” before hitting him again. He didn’t miss the subtle way Canada was rutting against the edge of the table, his fists clenched tight and as he hit him again he wondered how he’d take him today. England loved to hold Canada’s wrists, loved to watch him squirm and watch his face as he screamed. He loved it just as much as he loved digging his fingers into Canada’s hips, fucking him hard enough that the slap of their skin hitting reverberated throughout the room, and he loved feeling Canada’s nails on his back clawing at him, begging him to go harder until he swore he was buried up to his fucking throat inside of him. And as he lashed again and Canada counted four and he could feel his prick so full it was about to fucking burst. England decided definitely that he was taking him right like this -“five” in a half sob- because the way his ass was being smacked a lovely bright pink he knew Canada would feel the heat, feel the sting of every thrust as he fucked him and never forget for a moment that whatever was between he and America, their own bond wasn’t going to be swept aside that bloody easily.
   Canada pushed back, forward, God anything to get relief! If he didn’t think that his sadistic lover would stop entirely and give him a punish he’d actually hate, he’d have reached down and taken his cock and gotten himself off all over the table, the floor, wherever, just so he could come. “Seven.” He whimpered as England beat the skin on his ass into a hot hyper sensitivity before licking the belt over the backs of his thighs again. Canada could feel his ass clench, feel himself tighten in response and he counted “eight” and “nine” praying to God that England would stop at ten and when he felt that next lash once again dead center of his ass, he shoved his hips against the table just so he wouldn’t come. England just had to hit that one spot right curve of his ass that seemed to be directly wired to his cock and he gasped out a pathetic and stammered ten, the tears pinpricking the corners of his eyes just a little bit in relief when he felt England stop, heard the belt set down, heard the pipe set down and oh god if he was setting that down then he was going to- Oh god is he really finally going to just-
   Canada yowled.
   Germany was startled enough to jump in his seat, swearing as his knees banged the underside of the table and even Austria had dropped the book he was holding at the sound just as Russia wondered out loud for America’s benefit if he could make Canada scream even more than that. Russia’d hand was still over the makeshift gag to keep it from getting spat out as America’s eyes went wide. America had once told the neighbors after a particularly wild night in the house on Cambridge Ave that the noises they’d heard were the cats in the back alley much to Canada’s mortification. And when that feeling hit just right, whether it was England, America, Cuba, who the fuck ever was rough enough, big enough to do it, by God Canada yowled. His fists had clenched, unclenched, scrabbled at the table because England didn’t just slam his cock home balls fucking deep, he’d grabbed Canada’s hips and pulled his backwards, impaling him on it like a ragdoll. The cry wrenched up from Canada’s throat was a raw, violent cry of primal lust, and as England leaned forward, whispered so wickedly “You’re mine you defiant little wanker and don’t you ever forget it,” he could tell by the strong fingers gripping his hips hard that he’d pushed England just as far as he’d wanted to.
   The rattle of the chains in the background was just enough to make him think of America and wonder angry with himself why the hell he couldn’t just relax, ease into it, let his brother fuck him the same way without the nerves, without the anxiety and the painful tension when it felt so heavenly when it was England. Canada often wondered why the hell he had to be so screwed up and he just knew he’d get this thrown back into his face later when he asked him to go slow because length and width were two different animals and-
“OhGodDaddyohgodohgodohgod.” Canada had no idea what barely coherent nonsense he’d rattled off when England moved his hands and spread him wide open. He didn’t give a damn that everyone could probably see that obscenely thick cock forcing his hole seemingly as far as it could be stretched- forcing those extra few millimeters- hurting so bad and so good, and thank God England seemed to have managed to lube his cock somewhere in all that because experienced or not it never would’ve slid in so perfectly otherwise.
   Canada had told Germany earlier that when England got going he was usually only good for ten minutes but he didn’t think it would even last that long at the rate that hard length was fucking him and he didn’t really care either. Yes...yes... God if you do this every time I say Francis’ name I’ll get over it and tattoo it on my forehead instead of the flag. He moved his hands, arms boneless like lead weights as he shifted them underneath for support and held on as best as he could because England was like a fucking machine right now as he pummeled into him, the smack of them coming together hard echoing just like he’d hoped and it felt like he was being hit by the belt again with England’s pubic bone hitting his sore ass. He could hear England swearing softly above him a litany of “fuckfuckfuck” and he could feel every vein, every slight wrinkle of skin at the tight fit, feeling so hot, flushed all over, breathless, thinking that the breath was being fucked right out of him.
   Canada’s cries were becoming far more needy, incoherent, desperate and he was so close but England’s movements only seemed to slow the more Canada needed it and shaking, he turned his head, looking over his shoulder begging.
“Please, daddy... please I need to...” He trailed off, the scene deep enough now that it was hard to use such vulgarity where England was concerned and that was when England loved most to hear the filth he’d forced past his lips. England liked to put a finger to his mouth at those times or slap him and tell him to mind his tongue and threaten him with a spanking. Oh but that was hardly a threat when Canada craved that hand on his ass coming down with those hard unforgiving smacks that were “for his own good.” Sometimes he let himself oversleep on purpose, come to the meetings half awake and oh so sorry and look over the thin frames of Quebec at his beloved father figure so deviant and wanting and he could remember the time he’d been hauled into the bathroom right then and there and he thought he’d come just from England spanking him bent over the sink.
   England had slowed to an excruciating pace and as he moved, hands kneading Canada’s ass, spreading him, massaging that pliant flesh, it was double torture on himself as well. Canada was always so hot, so tight, and with that packet of whatever it was he’d gotten from the vending machine in the bathroom -don’t ask- he was so fucking wet it was mindblowing. The hell with Germany’s twenty fucking minutes- they’d passed that some time ago anyway- he was going to enjoy this. Turning slightly he could see America’s face reflected faintly in the tinted glass of the window and he could swear there was a distinct flush. It was a look he’d seen directed at plenty of other willing nations and there was an unmistakable tent that he could see him half bent over trying to hide. Oh, so you like seeing it after all, do you Alfred? Do you like watching me take your brother and make him scream? I thought you were more possessive than that Alfred... It was excruciating as he slowed- not stilled but let his hips move in a slow torturous lazy circle and as Canada gave a frustrated needy huff and looked torn between obedience and trying to force the issue, England smiled.
   Canada had asked him on the telephone when they were making the arrangements if doing this in front of a crowd would be an issue. He’d pretended to consider, finding it somewhat amusing that Canada still had his illusions about England’s sense of decorum; of course it was equally likely an extension of Canada’s own nerves which England suspected he’d toked away beforehand. You think we always had a nice hotel room handy? Oh no my boy, back in those days, we’d bugger in an alleyway, some darkened corner… or right on the main deck of to teach Spain a lesson… which had made him recall how Prussia and France had double teamed Austria in Silesia in more ways than one- should’ve stuck around for that one. And then there was that time in Marseilles when he and France had a “gentleman’s” wager about who could wring the most noise out of their partner in that whorehouse that night. None of that gentleman rot from either of us and I still kicked your arse, frog. The victory had made the syphilis he’d contracted more than worth it too; as a nation suffering through it once ensured no repeat and he thought of that experience rather as a pleasurable inoculation. Never gave a toss about any of that did you, Matthew? Neither did America for that matter and speaking of...
   Yes… yes perhaps he’d like a much better view at America too. Let him see the look on his brother’s face, let him see every damn thing and let him want. Let him see the “old man” wringing all the screams and begging from Canada that he couldn’t. And let you think about everything else that rebellion cost you. England considered it, knowing the others were there as well but in the position that Canada was in, gauging his reactions and his state he thought he could handle it. Hell that’s why they were here. England had allowed him to relax, had drawn him into a different scenario entirely to ease him into this, but Russia would hardly be so concerned with letting him block out the rest of the room. Besides, England thought rather wickedly, he was also going to have to prepare Canada to take that monster next.
   With a rather breathless exhalation, England pulled out, taking his time, head slightly bowed as he felt Canada’s body seemed to want to pull him back in and cor he had to resist the instinct to thrust back inside, fuck him til he screamed himself raw, and the come leaked out and down his thighs. England gave him a soft pat to the right shoulder in a subtle indication that they were no longer in the scene. Half slumping down on the table, Canada took a deep breath turned to look at him curiously over his shoulder.
“Why did you?-“
“I don’t think we’re giving our little audience a very good view, Matthew,” England replied with a quick slap to his ass. “Now up with you, c’mon don’t dawdle.” Canada obeyed quickly, blinking a few times, seeming to come back to the present before remembering exactly where he was and who was watching. Or not watching in some instances but it didn’t seem to make much difference to him.
   “Arthur I-“ Looking at them all, Canada felt his nerves start to catch up with him. It was one thing when he was solely focused on England, when he forgot they were in the room because America was gagged and everyone else had kept it to a dull roar of conversation. But now that he could see them all in front of him he didn’t think he could continue. It made him nervous even while it pissed him off cause Germany and Austria were still busy arguing over something ridiculous while Russia taunted America and dammit would it kill any of them to just… just look at him?! I can’t do this… He pushed off the table with shaky limbs and as much as he had wanted England, as much as he wanted to show America… Oh god Al… He looked at America like a deer caught in the headlights not even wanting to think of his brother laughing at him because even completely naked over a table he couldn’t get so much as a… oh… America was looking… oh god was America ever looking.
   Seriously Al? This is getting to you that much? Are you blind? They’re not even… Or was America even thinking that? His face was a mix of fury and lust and a whole bunch of other things Canada was in no mindset to even try and tackle… He took one deep breath and then another still leaning over the table dropping his gaze and Jesus why was it so hard to breathe? America screamed at the lot of them and Canada was too busy staring at the table top to even notice because whatever shreds of resolve he had left was just about-
“Matthew!” He stood up ramrod straight, the conditioning of a hundred years snapping him back into place and he turned to England nervously worrying his lower lip between his teeth again. Eyes flickering anxiously back and forth he spit out pitifully,
“I don’t think I can finish this Arthur…” he ducked his head, clutching at England’s sweater vest as if he were a child again and even as he stood over the older nation he still looked terribly vulnerable as he added a much softer, “Daddy…” Canada was embarrassed at how exposed he was, ashamed of everything he’d let them see and god they all saw how deviant and debauched he was and how the hell was he ever going to look any of them in the face again or himself because even if they did see they were just ignoring him like they always did except maybe Austria who looked up as if he’d been paying complete attention the entire time, concerned, assessing, and he looked at Canada pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.
   “Perhaps this was... not entirely thought out. Matthew if you-”
“You fucking assholes!” America had kicked at Russia and finally spit the makeshift gag out when the other had stepped back. Mad at he was at his brother, seeing Canada clinging to England had raised the protectiveness his brother brought out in him and as mad as he wanted to be dammit he was a helluva lot more pissed at England and Austria. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” He fixed an angry glare at Austria pulling the chains again. “Dude if I wasn’t tied up I’d kick your fucking ass right now! I should’ve known you fucking perverts talked him into this! Mattie may not always tell me when he’s pissed-” He looked at Canada face screwed with annoyance, “And I know that was you that keyed my car- But there’s no way in hell he’d wake up and say, ‘oh hey, let’s tie up America and make him watch fucking gangbang theater’ and by the way, the donuts in the lobby are stale, Eyebrows.”
“Alfred so help me-”
   “Anyway!” America continued loudly and Canada was only just now turning his head to look at him curiously as he went on stepping behind England so the rest of them couldn’t see his junk. “C’mon Mattie. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” He was speaking earnestly, and looking and seeing that yes, America loved him, that no one was looking at him like there was something wrong with him Canada started to relax. “I love you Mattie. You don’t need to do crazy shit like this, I mean we can talk, right?” Canada looked over England’s shoulder at his brother and nodded, feeling ridiculous, wondering why on earth he though he ever even needed to go this far when-
“So then you’ve changed your mind?” It was Austria who asked the question and Germany moved as if to shush him when he was silenced by a frosty glare.
“What?” America stared at him and resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Austria asked again.
”I said you’ve changed your mind then? About Matthew? So you don’t think that he’d be better off as a woman?” Prussia groaned and sat back staring at the ceiling tipping the chair up as he did so.
“Christ you’re such a fucking cockblocker, specs, we can’t just stop now we- Goddammit!” The chair “mysteriously” tipped all he way backwards, sending him crashing to the ground and Austria murmured a faint “whoops” as his eyes flickered from his fallen lover to America. “Answer the question Alfred.” America looked at him incredulously and then back to Canada.
   “Are you kidding me?” And for just that moment, Canada looked relieved that this was it, was glad that it was all going to work and that they could talk this out and okay he definitely... they definitely needed to communicate more and- “Of course not! Dude, just look at him he’s a fucking mess. Jesus christ you’ve made him fucking cry from all this-” Or maybe not. I can’t believe you... “I mean my brother’s about to have a damn nervous breakdown from Artie fucking him-” No, definitely not. This was not even close to what he was trying to… You dick! I can’t believe that’s all you can see! “And I’ve seen him dancing on fucking tables in a bar when he’s a chick-” That was one time and I was drunk and you have no idea, you have no idea what’s been going through my head... “-practically fucking other dudes in front of me, getting all mad and hot and God, Mattie I can’t always be around to protect you-” Protect me?! You fucking ass that’s it!
   Canada was done. He didn’t care who was or wasn’t looking so help him America and everyone else were going to see him and notice him and remember him come hell or high water. He wasn’t going to stay invisible, dammit! He was going to put on a show and make every last one of them remember who he was. He not might be the exciting and reckless asshole that his brother was but he was strong and desirable and the hell with every last one of those hosers! Russia might sit on him, Germany might ignore him. But today this was all about Canada whether they believed it or not and America had just thrown down the damn gauntlet.
“...hate to say it, bro but at least you can handle yourself when you’re a chick -like Ivan, really you were gonna fuck Ivan?” Why the hell was America still talking? “Yeah, he’d so fuck your shit up. I mean you can’t even do this much without running crying to Artie...” Crying to Arthur? I love Arthur, Al! And I love you too but enough is-
   “Enough!” Okay they were looking at him now like he’d just grown another head but he was livid. Canada didn’t even realize he’d stomped out from behind England and so what if he did? He was so mad he couldn’t even get another word out except a stammer of “you... you...” he took a few deep breaths, looking at America who was looking back like he had no idea what the hell he even did wrong. “You...” Dammit he couldn’t even put it all into words right now. He was seeing red. He was madder than the time he’d made his brother cry because even then he was able to at least put it into words... okay a lot of words but still. “You... That’s it!” He threw his hands up expressively and then slammed them onto the table bending over. “Do it, Arthur.” His eyes were on America the entire time not even seeing how Russia next to him giggled, only seeing those blue eyes go wide behind Texas as the other attempted to stammer out a flabbergasted “You can’t do that we were having a moment!” and fuck it, it was so back on!
   Canada didn’t often get mad. Irritated? Sure. Annoyed? Sometimes it seemed to be a perpetual state. But mad? No, mad seemed to be something that only America and England were masters of igniting within him. …and France- Couldn’t forget that damn thing with Quebec after all. Those three could just get under his skin the way the rest of the world never did and he tried, oh did he ever try to tamp it down and bottle it up but inevitably well… eventually it came out and when he was mad, that was it. England didn’t even ask him if he was sure about this and Canada’s face was enough to keep America from doing anything more than shuttup and silently glare. So I can’t handle Ivan, huh? Oh don’t worry about me, Al, worry about yourself ‘cause you’re gonna choke on those words, dammit. You think I don’t like Arthur fucking me? Just watch.
   England felt a stab of pity for America but rationalized as he stared at what was being offered, that it was really his own fault. Oh, sure enough he likely meant well, the tactless git always “meant well” but maybe this would teach him to think before speaking. Yes, England really was making such a noble gesture in all of this and no there wasn’t a damn thing about America watching him that was turning him on… He glanced down at the rapidly returning hardness that made a liar out of him. Well no one asked you now, did they?… And he watched America, and stroked his cock, the slick lubricant still coating it warmly and this time he watched. Perhaps it was a touch sadistic, but there was just something about the way that America watched the both of them silently, something beyond the anger and the hurt that England could read on his face.
   England didn’t have the sexual intimacy with America that he shared with Canada but he spent enough time with him growing up, as friends, and on the battlefield to be able to read him pretty damn well. And as he looked now, as he met America’s eyes, beautiful blue Atlantic and Pacific both, he didn’t doubt what it was he was seeing. He knew desire, in spite of what that rude little tosser liked to fire off at him about being a boring old man –and oh wasn’t the bottle of blue pills on his birthday that one year such a funny joke- England had more than his fair share of men and women look that at him that same way: that same way America had been eying Canada as well. It was bloody exciting and made him consider things that he hadn’t let himself consider in quite some time.
   It was that intoxicating look that made England slow down and refrain from just slamming it right on home again. It was that look that stilled his hand at the small of Canada’s back, palm resting possessively, and made him rethink just how he was going to do this. Oh no... you’re not getting it that easy, Alfred. I’m not just letting you stand there and stew. Let’s remind Matthew what he’s forgotten he needs and while we’re at it let’s show the bloody US of A just what he’s missing out on. And oh he didn’t miss Canada’s mumbled knock against his stamina earlier, not at all. Think twenty minutes is enough y’bleeding kraut? You haven’t seen the true spirit of the British Empire. Eyes shaded dangerously, England’s hands moved back to Canada’s waiting willing arse and squeezed. He knew the other was angry, knew that most of this actions right now were fueled by a desire to prove something to America- and so were his in a way- but he was also going to fucking enjoy this because this wasn’t about immigration or business. This was personal.
   He heard the gasp, and saw the shift of Canada’s head, the muscles of his shoulders twisting and tightening as England kneaded and squeezed and fucking worshipped those soft round cheeks. He watched the tension in Canada’s body peter out, and shift from a taut anxiousness to an anticipatory strain, the triceps of his arms hard, biceps flexing and he took that time to appreciate the strength in the younger nation’s body that submitted to him so beautifully. He pressed against Canada, letting his hard cock slide up and down his crack, teasing him, and traced the curve of his spine as he stood leaning on the table, touched all of those damn brilliant muscles, heard the gasp and pant as he inadvertently tickled the other’s side and he rutted against him breathing heavily, shooting America a small knowing smile as he moved, simulating the act, watching America in a lovely mimic of his twin, bite his lower lip and look down and away unable to hold England’s look.
   “Arthur,” Canada whispered to him pushing back somewhat insistently even as he enjoyed the strong hands pushing, squeezing- god the squeezing- so he could feel every finger digging into him once again and why wouldn’t England just give in and- Canada swallowed back a small squeak of a noise, another catch of breath because the head of England’s cock had slid down, slick and warm and he could feel that teasing brush against the back of his sac and he felt his balls tighten, felt that ripple of tension that half tickle half incredible pressure and it made his head turn sharply, made his neck pop and he pushed up on the balls of his feet a little higher seeking a little more contact and he might possibly have babbled some incoherent nothing when England just gave a few little smacks and Canada remembered the day England bent him over the back of the sofa and said he wanted to try a little something different and rutted to completion in between his thighs.
   If England had been dead set on torturing him he sure had some extra sensory means of reading his mind right now ‘cause Canada could feel that teasing slide, feel England manipulating his hips, not so much fucking him as using his own body like a fleshlight. England pulled him back, letting that hard, slick cock glide by sweat and lube and Canada’s throat was constricting as he was trying so hard not to just scream at him to stop teasing already. His right hand on the table tapped, thumping like a drum as his tried to keep his head from thrashing wildly, as England’s hard slick shaft rubbed the skin of his inner thighs til the slightest touch was magnified a thousand times over back and forth and back until he was fighting to keep his eyes open and focused.
   And Canada could hear the heavy breathing, the panting as England grabbed him, held him tight, close, rotated his hips in just a way that made Canada hot all over and made that faint thump of his hand turn to a hard pounding to match the wild beating of his heart and if he would just- Oh god oh god yes yes yes… Finally! England released him just enough, slowly, way too slowly with those hands moving from hips to ass giving a good hard squeeze as they spread him wide open again.
   England’s thumb circled that faintly pink hole, moist and slick from where the lube had rubbed off on the skin and he listened to the hitch in Canada’s breath even as his eyes fell to America who seemed unable to look away this time. He’d watched him while he bent over Canada’s twisting body and he watched him now as America absently licked his lips in that nervous anticipation like he was waiting for a lolly from England’s pocket. Don’t look away, Alfred. I’ve got you now, don’t I? And England couldn’t help but smile just for him then ignoring the rest of the room as if it was just the three of them and there was a quiet in just that moment as America remained fixated and still.
   Canada too was strangely silent and as England just barely slid his thumb inside and teased and made him instinctively clench and writhe he could feel the heat rising in his face.
“Arthur…” he panted out again pushing back, trying to draw him in further and it took everything he had to keep that insistent desire from turning to flat out childish begging. It always seemed when he coupled with a nation who shared so many of his people that was more than just a physical joining. It was glorious homecoming and a blur of himself and boundaries and everything that could swallow them up into an amazing anthropological collective and god what it would be like to have both England and America at the same time he couldn’t even fathom.
   But right now it was enough that America was watching even if no one else was and Canada could felt he heat from that stare. He could feel the heat of England’s body and to the sometimes arctic nation it was a heat that could damn well devour him. Canada found himself whispering softly, unaware if England could hear him or not that full title, beyond their personal human names and he softly pleaded with the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to take him hard and make him remember just what it was like to be a colony under the banner of one of the greatest empires ever known to man. And England made some incredible noise at that which may have been half growl, half cuss, half- oh god that was thirds now and fractions and what the hell was he saying England was pushingitinfurther! massaging and pressing against the tight walls of muscle that closed around it and Canada’s eyes fell half shut as he rocked back ecstatically, breathing heavier, feeling the blood starting surge, yesyesyes and feeling his cock grow heavier and god as embarrassed as he’d been a moment ago to have America’s eyes on him right now when he looked at his brother he just couldn’t-
   “OhgodAl!” Canada didn’t quite know why it was America’s name he called just then. He gasped as England twisted his thumb and plunged in deeper, the broad hand resting against his ass, short trimmed nails digging into his skin as England just flicked and pulsed and circled, massaging, stroking, working that tight muscle open- and Canada didn’t know how much he could stand. Rougher, harder, and as England pulled it out, he heard the suckle and pop and there it was again as dug his left hand into Canada’s hip, making him remain bent over the table as his hips pushed, as he watched America flushed and wanting, wanting him, wanting them both wanting anything that would just fill him again so- “A… A…” which could’ve been the start of either of their names in that moment and he felt the second rush of blood, his cock feeling as if it was going to burst crushed against the table as England worked him so close to- OhgodIcan’tIcan’t…
   Canada was gonna come. He was gonna come and he didn’t think he could stop unless he somehow stopped looking at America and if England gave him just a moment to- “Pleasepleaseplease...” The head of his cock taking the place of his thumb and just the head, god just the stupid barest tip. And Canada finally wrenched his eyes away from America and found himself glimpsing for just a moment the stupidly placed plastic clock on the wall above America’s head which made him think of England’s cock of all things. England had liked to refer to it as Big Ben although last Canada remembered England was quite a bit older than the massive clock tower so he had no idea if that was just a nickname or what. He really had more pressing matters to consider right now anyway and had no idea where that errant thought had wandered in from and speaking of pressing go, yes presssing!
   America’s eyes were even wider hearing his own name spill from Canada’s lips, hearing what might have been a call for him again and maybe if those damn chains weren’t so strong he’d break them like some incredible American god and open Canada’s mouth and just shove that hard cock right to the root down his throat. When he heard his own name from Canada’s mouth, when he saw the two of them watching him as if he were a part of what they were doing instead of just an observer, he couldn’t deny the heat between his legs and so help him god if one of those fucking perverts said one word about it he’d-
“Aaaal,” Canada moaned again and America bit harder trying his damndest not to twist, not to shift and giveaway just how much Canada calling his name was fucking turning him on.
   Oh but Canada hadn’t forgotten who it was behind him not at all. Especially when he once again felt himself being spread open, vulnerable as he watched America whose own face was flushed, still worrying that lip as if he didn’t quite know what to say. Damn, the way England was holding him open made him feel so vulnerable, so exposed, but he wasn’t going to look down, he wasn’t going to turn away as if he was ashamed because dammit he wasn’t! Canada could feel his legs trembling as England entered him, still pushing in, so slow, dragging every bit of it out and as fucking slippery as everything was he knew that the wonderful thickness would’ve pushed in so easily but no, he took his time, millimeter by millimeter stretching him, filling him, and Canada knew it was for America’s benefit and between the two of them, he moaned out both their names in succession, “god...Al...Arthur.. Alarthala...” as if he were being taken by them both names melding into one mass of incoherent muck. And just as England’s cock finally seemed buried to the damn root, just as he felt England stop fully seated, he pulled out again and instead of spreading his ass wide, he pushed those cheeks together tightly and as he pushed in again Canada could hear the soft “bloodyfucking’ell” whispered behind him.
   Canada wondered for one wild moment what it would actually be like to have them both and then he remembered Prussia and Germany and God how the hell was his ass going to take them both if Austria’s stories were anything to go by, but somehow right now, with the atmosphere so damn charged like it hadn’t been before he felt nothing but excited at the idea. And as England fucked him just a little faster godarthurmovepleaseharderharder he leaned down more on the table, chest resting against the cold surface feeling his nipples pebble from the stimulation and he rubbed against it, turning his head, craning his neck just so America could see how much he was getting off -enjoying it, dammit!- and he moaned and sighed as England fucked him. Canada’s forearms rested on the table and his right hand held his left wrist and squeezed in time with England’s thrusts in that odd comforting gesture and as he massaged his pulse he closed his eyes and far from the wild screams of earlier he gasped and sighed because fuck yes England was fucking him with those long deep strokes and he’d angled his hips and holding Canada’s ass so tightly it felt bigger than it ever had before.
   It was almost too much. He was so full and that in and out plunging seemed to reach up farther than he ever thought possible and it was making his entire lower half clench and tighten and god he could swear he felt every vein on England’s cock rubbing the tight ring of his anus. It was heard to even see. There was that film over his vision like he was just waking up and maybe he was, his fingers were white where the tips dug into the table, the one hand slamming down hard every so often, not so much scrabbling for purchase but seeking for just some other way to vent the heat that he couldn’t satisfy with his cock pressed against the unforgiving table.
“Oh god… s’too…” Too much. Too intense. Good, too everything and the more England moved the more his stomach clenched and he almost felt like he needed to- “please… I c-can’t…” And yet rather than stop, rather than pull back, he welcomed whatever England pushed his body to do.
   England was relentless, mentally counting off the time, mentally giving Germany the fucking finger because twenty minutes might have been enough for him and Prussia- and oh he’d heard the rumors about him back in the old days- but he sure as hell could go a lot longer than that when he put his mind to it! Ah, but Canada definitely wanted to come. England could tell right off when he’d raised himself back off the table and was pushing back against him in earnest, forcing him in deeper, harder, and begging him rather delightfully. And oh how sweet it was to hear him in that soft submissive voice when he couldn’t take it any more. Mmm, but Germany was correct in his assessment that they didn’t have the room forever so it was with a somewhat put upon sigh that England leaned over, nipped at Canada’s shoulder and murmured against it, “How badly do you want to come, Matthew?”
   The question was just one of a million things in the jumbled vortex of thoughts hitting him all at once. Canada loved feeling the weight of England on his back, loved the warmth of a hard body covering him- whatever digs America might make about him getting old and soft- and he shivered when he felt those teeth on his shoulder- god he loved the way England possessed him. He wasn’t sure if it was just the damn heat, the unbearable hotness in his body, the way his cock felt so swollen and heavy but god oh god there was something in him in this moment with America watching him slack jawed that made Canada feel so desired, so wanton that the flush of his face was far from embarrassed.
   He’d never felt so desired before as a guy. Even when Prussia used to fondle him under the table during meetings he’d always just chalked that up to some weird little sex game he and Austria were playing- especially considering that Austria always seemed to change the subject whenever he brought it up. So maybe it was easier to be sexual as a woman when he felt like people actually noticed him and wanted him not America but that sure didn’t mean that he didn’t love sex as a guy, that he wasn’t far more comfortable in his own skin. And realizing that America wanted him that badly even where everyone else might not even notice him was intoxicating a hell. America was the one whose attention he’d wanted all along. America was the one he couldn’t bear to be without even when he was with England and it was America who he was giving the damn show for now.
   And okay so maybe when England wasn’t pounding the ever loving shit out of him he’d see the world through different colored glasses and feel mortified at his behavior and thankful no one else was paying him the slightest mind. There was some sort of argument amongst the three Germans and Russia seemed to be staring through him rather than at him but right now he felt desired and hot and damn good. And when he heard England ask him just how badly he wanted to come he answered back still looking at them all, not bowing his head or hiding, “Anything Arthur, I’ll do anything,” And that sentence was aimed deliberately at America, letting his brother know that hell no this was far from over, and that he was gonna see just how dirty his “innocent” little brother was.
   It was an odd feeling- one that he’d never really experienced before as his normal male self- to feel so confident in his own desirability. He certainly couldn’t say it was unpleasant to feel that rush of heat, that pounding in his ears as the adrenaline pumped through him. Granted some of that was probably the blood filling his cock and the hard length splitting him open and oh god that felt fucking fantastic, but he heard England ask him in that low accented voice, “Then will you allow me to prepare you properly for Ivan?” Canada knew exactly what England meant with that loaded question. He looked out once again locking eyes with his brother, licking his lips, feeling his entire body shivering as he realized that America would finally see yet another hidden part of him. But Canada just smiled and said excitedly, “Oh yes… yes please.”
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If U Seek Alfred