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Whisper of Stars	By : tamasama Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 6255 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of the characters. I make no money from the writing or distrobution of this story. This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to the lives of any person, living or dead, is purely conincedental.

Chapter List
- 5
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CHAPTER SIX
When he awoke, all America could smell was the thick, heady scent of vodka mixed with the odor of the outdoors on a cool winter night. Slowly shaking his head back and forth, he tried to stretch and noticed that he was being held down, his face nestled into soft cloth. Tilting his head up he saw Russia’s sleeping face, peaceful and lightly smiling. All at once the memories from the day before came flooding back: the water over his face washing into his throat, down his nose, blinding and cold. The sudden entry of Russia, who was holding him down under that horrible icy water, his large and crushing body just as chilly. The thought “so this is how I’m gonna die?” had flitted about his mind as the panic faded and his vision began to retreat down a long and dark tunnel, noise sounding like it played from broken speakers, the pain in his back from the edge of the tub dig, dig, digging into him and the pain of the member pounding into his now-limp body was like the distant memory of a fever-dream.
Slowly sliding his weak and shaking hand down the sleeping Russian’s body, he felt his fingers brush over the smooth cotton of the baggy shirt (which Russia had decided to put on again some time in the night) that concealed the firm and strong body beneath until he found the different texture of the now loosely tied sash. Inching down bit by bit, slowly as to not wake the man, he found the waist of the unbuttoned pants. Just a little more, just a tiny bit more… America smiled lightly when he finally found the pocket he knew always held that heavy brass key that seemed to work on every door. When he lightly dipped his fingers into the pouch, he jumped when Russia’s hand clamped harshly over his wrist.
“Dobroe utro*, Alfred.” Although his voice was soft and inviting, the hand gripping his wrist only squeezed tighter and twisted, electing a little whine of pain from him. “I am needing you to do something for me.”
“Wh-what?” The USA gasped, trying feebly to yank his arm free from the crushing grip.
“I am going to call your boss, Alfred. You are going to tell him that you intend to stay with me for a while, and to send me money and supplies, da?” Slowly pulling the American’s arm up toward his mouth while keeping it at a painful angle, he dipped his head slightly to let a light kiss brush over the knuckles while tightening the grip of the arm that was still lying under the quivering man and pulling him close.
“Go fuck yourself, Ivan.” America said, which was followed by a groan of pain from behind gritted teeth then his wrist was twisted further, “My boss’ll get su-suspicious real soon an’ then you’re gonna be… Gonna be… Fuck!” He wailed when, with one hard jerk and pull, Russia dislocated his wrist.
Hearing the tell-tale pop, Russia felt blood rush to his member. Dropping the abused hand like it was now a broken toy, he pulled the hurting man even closer and locked eyes with him. As he spoke, he lightly ground his erection into America’s leg. “We can do this easy, or we can do this hard, da?”
Clutching his arm close to his chest as the arm holding him became ever tighter, America blinked tears away and tried to glare defiantly. Regardless of what he had done and had been done to him within the past few days he would never do that, his American pride depended upon keeping his resolve and taking whatever Russia had to throw at him. “I wont!”
Smiling pleasantly, Russia closed the gap between them, planting a firm kiss onto America’s lips. Rolling on top of the man, he bared his teeth and bit down onto the plump lower lip softly at first, but slowly increased the pressure until the American was writhing about beneath him, struggling to move away as Russia’s teeth broke through the skin and sank into the tender flesh. Releasing him to lap up the blood, he ran his fingers through the blond hair which so thoroughly needed a good cleaning. “You will. Now open your mouth, da?”
“I’ll bite you.” America muttered, turning his face to the side, a trail of red leaking across his lower cheek and jaw and onto the clean bedding.
“If you bite, I will slide a knife down your mochyeispuskatel'nyi kanal**, and I am sure that I would enjoy doing it. Open. Your. Mouth.” Each word resonated deep from his throat in a low baritone, his accent becoming more pronounced. Being the “melting pot” of peoples, of course America could understand some Russian so he fully understood the threat. When the trembling, red stained lips tentatively parted, Russia swooped down upon them and dipped his clammy tongue into the warm recess of the nation’s mouth.
Probing the warm man’s mouth, Russia lightly slid his fingers down his right arm, stopping to swirl his digits around the small bumps of injection sites. Continuing down he reached the pained wrist and lightly placed his palm over it. Teasing America’s unmoving tongue with his own, he let out a soft grunt of persuasion, willing him to join. When he did not move at all, Russia placed slightly more weight on the hand over the dislocated wrist, smiling at the whine of pain that flowed from America’s mouth to his own like the sweetest honey.
This time his coax was met as America scrunched his eyes shut and returned the kiss hesitantly. Russia let up on the sore arm and slid one hand over the other man’s soft side, relishing in the warmth that radiated from the smooth flesh and permeated his own cold body. Bringing his index finger to softly trace around the small pink nipple which was now temporarily pierced, he pulled back from the kiss and savored the view of the blushing, shaking man beneath him. His lower lip was swollen now, a beautiful plump red to contrast his white skin and purple-green remnants of healing bruises. Sighing and tilting his head to the side, Russia looked him over with a disapproving expression. Something was missing…
“Da!” He exclaimed, digging in his pocket to pull out America’s glasses and push them onto the man’s face with a nod of approval. “Very much better.” Easing back on top of him, Russia began leaving light, fleeting kisses over his jaw and down to his neck, stopping to lick and suck the sensitive flesh there.
Confused by the sudden change of attitude, America fought a losing war with his own body, moaning softly as the large man covered him in the gentle ministrations. Now that the hand over his damaged wrist had lightened up it was beginning to grow numb, allowing his mind to focus more on the soft licks and caresses Russia was giving him. Moaning when his injured nipple was pulled into the cool wetness of Russia’s mouth, his leg twitched slightly when he felt a hand begin running up the innermost part of his thigh.
Gasping first with fear, then in pleasure when Russia’s nimble fingers slid delicately over his testicles, America looked down at the man and asked, “Why are you being like this all of a sudden?”
As Russia’s head trailed further and further down the smooth skin of America’s now too-thin belly, he flicked his radiant purple eyes to meet the man’s now dull blue ones. “It is very cold today, I want to you warm me. Also, I do not want my own prized property to hate me, konechno***.”
America shivered at the muffled voice and the cold breath that slipped from Russia’s mouth like the breeze of a Siberian winter. Finally down by the blonde man’s now erect penis, Russia sat up a ways to give America a better view. Dipping down, he flicked his unnaturally cold tongue over the engorged tip a few times before running his flattened tongue all the way from the base to the tip. Swirling his tongue about the head, he slowly bent to swallow the man’s engorged member deep into his mouth, never stopping his tongue’s circular dance. Once he had taken the entire average-for-Americans-but-small-in-his-eyes appendage into his mouth, he ran his tongue up and down over the bottom half, followed by a vigorous tongue-roll as he bobbed his head up and down, quickly gaining speed.
Gasping at the strange feel of the coldest yet altogether best blowjob he had ever experienced the American lay back and ran his fingers through Russia’s silver-blond hair. The heat of his own body was warming the cold mouth, which just made everything feel so much better. It was like the older man’s tongue was everywhere all at one, rolling and licking inside the wet mouth while a strong and steady hum vibrated Russia’s throat, and by default America’s sensitive head. Skilled hands stroked his testicles and worked their way down towards his ass, the pads of his fingers skillfully rolling the balls between them as the other rubbed firmly over his perineum.
Taking his mouth from America’s dick for a moment, Russia sucked his left pinky and ring finger into his own mouth, thoroughly wetting them before he went about pushing them into the young man’s tight, quivering hole. Keeping the thumb of his left hand firmly on the American’s taint with varying degrees of pressure, he continued his oral work.
His orgasm immanent, America lifted his hips up, trying to claim more of the slick coolness and allow the fingers deeper entrance into him, forgetting the pain of his bloodied lip and dislocated wrist entirely as two strong burst of his semen shot out and into Russia’s welcoming throat as the waves of pleasure washed over him.
Swallowing the hot seed, Russia sat up, grimacing and poking out his tongue in distaste as the thick fluid slid down his throat and down to warm his belly. It was not the taste that offended him as much of the pleased look on the younger man’s flushed face; nothing crushed his libido more than a willing and satisfied partner. Getting up and leaving the panting man on the bed, Russia unlocked the door and poked his head out. After some muffled conversation, he accepted a small brown satchel. Sitting down on the bed again, the Russian began digging through the bag, eyeing the contents with interest before setting it aside and pulling America up by his shoulders and looking directly into his eyes.
“You want shot?” The question was answered by an enthusiastic shake of the head. “You must let me inside first.”
His expression quickly changing, America’s eyes shifted right and left and his cheeks reddened. “Why are you doing this to me, man? Couldn’t it just be easier to try an’ invade my house or something? I knew you didn’t like me but what did I do to make you hate me this much?” His voice braking as he began to sob, America used his left hand to yank the sheets up and over himself.
Silent for a moment, Russia scooted over and leaned next to the trembling man. “I do not hate, da?” His voice was soft and reassuring when his right hand snaked its way around the smaller body. “I always…” Scrunching his eyebrows in thought, he spun the idea over and over in his head until he came up with the right words, “I always have envy and caring for you, Alfred. You can be so free and stupid like I cannot afford. I can’t have your carefree life, so I take you instead, da?”
“I apologize for being mean, I just like you so I tease.” He finished with a gentle blush and smile, poking down on the man’s dislocated wrist until he yelped in pain.
“Punching me in face was teasing? Nearly drowning me to death was teasing?!” America cried, snatching his swollen wrist away and clutching it close to his chest.
“Well I was very angry with jealousy so I hit. In bathroom, if I was not teasing, why did I help you breath again? If I hate, I kill.” Russia slowly explained, confused at how his captive did not seem to understand.
Struck silent by Russia’s skewed logic, America could only stare at him in disbelief. He was treating all of that abuse he had inflicted as some kind of school-yard crush display? Going as far as to rape him was akin to tugging a girl you like’s ponytail between classes for the large man, and the realization seeped into America’s bones like ice. He was clearly in deeper trouble that he had previously thought. If everything he had been through was only “teasing”, what could he expect if he got onto Russia’s bad side?
To his horror, the large man was snuggling closer to him. “You are nosy and obstinate, you do not like listen so I wanted to make you listen to me.” Nuzzling his prominent nose into the smaller man’s chest, he took in a deep breath, smiling at the scent. Looking up at the frightened man’s face through beige hair, his voice dropped to a low baritone.
“Only me, da?”
Gulping audibly, America leaned there with Russia cuddling his chest, unsure of what to say or do. After a few moments of being snuggled, he let out a relieved breath when the large man finally sat up.
“If you want shot, you still need to let me inside. I promise I will not injure this time.” Perceiving the lack of a reply for an agreement his face lit up. Shoving America back with one hand, he wet his index and middle finger in his mouth, easing softly over him and slowly slipping them into the hot recess. While he gentle probed about, the Russian began sliding feather-soft kisses and licks over America’s ear and cheek until he reached the quivering lips.
“After shot will come food, you are hungry, da?” He murmured softly into America’s lips, slipping another finger inside.
Lightly nodding his head, America scrunched his eyes at the uncomfortable but at least, for once, only slightly aching feeling of himself being stretched. His breathes had become shallow as the idea of heroin in his system and food to finally fill his grumbling belly filled his mind. If he fought he knew that there was absolutely no guarantee of coming out alive, but if he just dealt with it he would live another day. He would be able to work out a plan of escape for another day. His decision clear, America spread his legs further to accept more of Russia’s slowly thrusting fingers.
Pulling out from the seemingly willing man, Russia leaned over to pull a small bottle of lube from the brown satchel and squirt a liberal amount onto his fingers, coating them with the slick fluid. Inserting all four of his fingers he continued to stretch the man to a point that would make the actual act easier. Knowing himself completely flaccid by the tender act, he started to bring back some old war memories that he had committed to remembering: During the Russo-Turkish war of 1812, when he and a handful of men had managed to catch the Ottomans by surprise. The splatters of blood as the Russians crushed the sleeping army, Russia himself slamming his heavy boot down onto Ahmet Pasha’s chest and pinning him to the ground. He fondly remembered the choking whine as the barrel of his Mosin rifle pushed against the back of the man’s throat. He slid the butt into place against his shoulder, slipped his finger over the trigger and squeezed, relishing in the deafening bang and the satisfying splatter of blood, skull, and brains that flew out in every direction.
Pulling his fingers from America’s now open hole, he slid his pants down and off. Sliding the lubricant over his erection, he took the man’s uninjured hand in his own, lacing their fingers together as he began to slowly slip into the tight heat that his small captive had to offer. America only let out a pained puff of air as he was slowly filled with the Russian’s thick cock, gripping the hand that held his tightly as he tried to relax his muscles. As he slid himself gently in up to the hilt, Russia let out a shuttering sigh as the burning heat around his dick reminded him of yet another all-too erotic memory.
This time, in 1940 he had occupied Poland‘s house. Ordered by Laverentiy Beria and accepted by Stalin, he and his secret police were told to execute all of the members of the Polish Officer Corps. He remembered the evening wind rustling through the trees, the whimpering sobs of the men who were lined up before him, the uneasy murmurs that slipped past the lips of some of his own officers. He relished in the constant line of bullets that left his gun that slammed themselves mercilessly into the heads of the captive men, their blood splashing up like crimson fireworks. From evening until dawn he shot those men, far longer than any other soldier had cared to continue. So many were killed, their blood on his hands which shook from the adrenalin and were numb from the incessant kick of the German-made 7.65mm Walter PPK.
His thrusts sped, both of his hands traveling down to grip the man’s hips tightly and lift him up to the perfect angle to slide over that sweet spot again and again. Gasping loudly each time the large member slammed into his prostate, America sat up on his elbows and watched himself be filled, his dick hardening as little pleasured puffs escaped his lips.
When Russia was not focused on bringing as much pain to his partner as possible, he was a surprisingly fantastic lover. Dropping back down onto his back from a joltingly strong thrust, America moaned loudly and shamelessly when his slid one of his own hand over his rock hard erection and began stroking. The feeling of being fucked by the cold man was unbelievable and already his balls began to pull closer to his body in imminent orgasm. When Russia slammed into him hard enough to cause the sturdy bed a hard lurch and shove him an inch or two up onto the headboard, he felt the coolness of the man’s seed spill out into him. Arching his back, his fluids sprayed out and onto his own chest in an accumulation of pleasures as he gave out a loud cry of delightful decadence.
Sliding out of the American, Russia leaned and rummaged through the satchel, producing the regular syringe and injecting the heroin into the satisfied man’s arm. After he put that away he took out a bandage which he gently used to wrap the swollen wrist, followed by a small wrapped meal of vareniki, which he set onto the end table. He then pulled his pants back on and took his leave, locking the door behind him.

*Good morning.

**Urethra

***Of course.
A/N: I got my chapters all mixed up! This one was supposed to be chapter five, and the last chapter was supposed to be this one. It all worked out in the end, but maybe I should stop getting so plastered when I go to write? I get too embarrassed re-reading my own sex scenes for revisions without it though, so I suppose it works the way I want it to, dohohohoho. I’m sorry this took so long to come out, I was re-reading some of the web comic to make myself keep them at least a little in character, and I had to do some research to get my history proper.
Once again, thank you to all who are enjoying this story! Although I prefer constructive criticism, I do like feedback, so even if all you have to say is “Boo! You suck (for whatever reason)”, I would like to know. I want to keep the quality at an ever-increasing rate but its hard to do when no one tells you how they feel!
Thanks to Natalia again for reviewing, and giving me something constructive to work with! I had motives in the back of my mind somewhere but they kind of fell to the back-burner at some point. Thanks for reminding me!
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Whisper of Stars