Dominant Nation

Well, this chapter goes out to a very kind translator anon on /y/ who…well, I hope you know who you are, because you rule. Thanks for doing the lettering as well.


7

“So, stretch out on the bed on your stomach, all right?” Canada instructed as he got up and guided Russia to his feet, smiling fondly when the older nation gave him a rather confused look. “It’s not sex, relax,” he said with a playful laugh, turning and walking to the trunk at the foot of the bed and flipping the latch as Ivan climbed onto the mattress and stretched out.

“I’m…not quite sure what’s going on,” Ivan confessed awkwardly, stretching out on his front as Canada had told him.

“I’m rewarding you,” Matthew replied, pulling out a bottle and closing the lid of the trunk.

“Er, yes…but…what did I do?” Ivan queried, glancing back over his shoulder at the blonde rather uncertainly.

“Mm, just went above and beyond the call of duty, I guess. You didn’t have to lick our cum off the mirror, or off the floor, but you did, and it was really sexy,” Canada explained as he climbed onto the bed, the rich scent of sandalwood drifting through the air when he popped the cap on the bottle and poured some of the golden oil onto his hands. “It was extremely pleasing. And when you do things that please me, it makes me want to do something to please you right back.”

“Oh…” Russia murmured. He supposed that made sense…in a way… “Are all ‘Dominants’ like that?” he inquired, glancing over his shoulder again, only to jump when Canada’s slick hands smoothed over his upper back.

“I’d like to think that most are, but probably not,” Matthew said with a sad smile, rubbing the oil into Russia’s pale skin. “Sometimes people get into the D/S scene for the wrong reasons, and selfishness can run rampant.” Canada winced sympathetically when he encountered a knotted muscle in the Russian’s left shoulder, and began to focus his attentions on it, kneading and rubbing gently but firmly. “I’ll be honest, selfish Doms offend me. All relationships are about give and take…and if somebody’s giving you the gift of their submission, that’s…well…it’s one of the most precious gifts of all, isn’t it?”

Ivan was quiet for a long time, his violet eyes heavy-lidded as he gradually relaxed into the young nation’s skilled hands. Odd…Yao considered himself the master of massage, but never once had the dark-haired nation been able to make him melt under his fingertips the way Canada was. What did that mean…? “It…is not a gift many people can give to other people, no…”

“Which is why I treasure it,” Canada said softly in response as he poured more of the massage oil into his hands and rubbed his palms together before smoothing them over Ivan’s back again. Pausing, he leaned forward and kissed the back of Russia’s head, speaking against his ear. “Thank you, Ivan. For the gift of your trust. And yourself.”

Shivering a little, Russia blushed deeply at the words, feeling an odd flutter in his chest. “Ehm…ah, you’re welcome,” he mumbled, averting his gaze awkwardly.

Smiling fondly at the larger nation’s apparent shyness, Canada nuzzled the back of his head before returning to his massaging, taking great delight in a slow, thorough exploration of the muscles and contours of Ivan’s back. Whenever he encountered a knotted muscle he would slow his attentions, focusing on the area until he had coaxed the tension out before pouring more oil onto his hands and moving on.

Part of him wondered if any other nation had been awarded such a privilege; for, to be able to see Ivan like this, naked and off his guard, was exactly that. Glancing up at the back of Russia’s head, he wondered for a moment if he’d dozed off, jumping in surprise when Braginski spoke.

“It makes sense to me, now…that I can trust you like this,” Russia slurred drowsily, his amethyst eyes slitting open just slightly as he tried to look at Canada over his shoulder. “I can submit to you because…you are honest. You are kind and polite…and you are respectful…you have never been the type to exploit the vulnerability of other nations.”

Matthew blinked, feeling the colour rising on his cheeks at the genuine words…such immensely high praise when they were coming from Russia. “I…th…thank you, Ivan,” he said honestly, feeling an immeasurable warmth in his heart.

“Mm,” Russia grunted, nodding in acknowledgment and smiling a little when the young nation leaned over him and nuzzled the back of his head. Reaching back, he ruffled Canada’s hair, sighing in pleasure as the blonde’s talented hands moved down again and started to knead at his lower back. He lost himself in the attentions, eyes drifting closed as he sighed in pleasure, one brow quirking slightly when he noticed Canada humming something. “That’s a pretty song.”

Pausing in his rubbing, Canada blinked, then blushed a little, a fetching smile curving his lips. “Oh…yeah, it’s…maple, it’s an old song, but one of my favourites.”

“Da?” Ivan opened one violet eye, smiling faintly when he saw the blush on Matthew’s cheeks, unable to suppress his curiousity now. “What’s it about?”

Canada blushed a little more at that, spreading some more oil over his hands and starting to rub one of Ivan’s hips. “Um…ah, it’s about me, actually,” he confessed, peeking up at Russia through a curtain of blonde tresses. “Usually it’s sung at campfires or used to keep time when someone’s paddling a canoe…”

“Heh…somehow that does not surprise me,” the older nation chuckled gruffly, although he winced a little when the young nation’s questing fingers found a painful knot. “Gh…sing the words for me?”

“Oh…um, sure…” Matthew cleared his throat, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, the bruises from the night before almost entirely faded. His voice was quiet at first, but grew steadier as he sang.

“My paddle's keen and bright, flashing with silver
Follow the wild goose flight, dip dip and swing.
Dip, dip, and swing her back, flashing with silver
Swift as the wild goose flies, dip dip and swing.

Land of the Silver Birch, home of the beaver
Where still the mighty moose wanders at will!
Blue lake and rocky shore, I will return once more
Boom diddy ah dah, boom diddy ah dah, boom diddy ah dah boo-oo-oom...

High on a rocky ledge, I'll build my wigwam,
Close to the water's edge, silent and still
Blue lake and rocky shore, I will return once more,
Boom diddy ah dah, boom diddy ah dah, boom diddy ah dah boo-oo-oom...

My heart grows sick for thee, here in the lowlands,
I will return to thee, hills of the North!
Blue lake and rocky shore, I will return once more,
Boom diddy ah dah, boom diddy ah dah, boom diddy ah dah boo-oo-oom...”

Canada trailed off, still blushing as he kept up his massage, moving back up to smooth his fingers over Ivan’s sides, rubbing the muscles of his ribcage.

“It is…” Russia mumbled, blinking his eyes open and lifting his head for a moment to peer back at the young nation, “that’s very much a song about you, da…it’s very beautiful. You are a beautiful nation, though…so it makes sense that there would be pretty songs about you.”

Matthew blinked in surprise, pausing in the middle of opening the bottle of massage oil again. “I…you…you mean that…?”

Russia chuckled, letting his cheek come to rest against the mattress again, closing his eyes and smirking. “You also have the worst inferiority complex of any nation I’ve ever met. Yes, I meant what I said; I would not have said it otherwise.”

Canada fidgeted for a moment, smiling and clearing his throat shyly. “Ah…thank you. I’m…thank you.” Leaning forward, he kissed Ivan gently on the cheek, the smell of the sandalwood massage oil enveloping him as he did so. Glancing at the clock radio, he sat up again, coating his hands in oil one last time and starting to knead at the muscles between Russia’s ribs. “Mm, I’ll have to wash my hands and go start lunch in a few minutes, I think…” He paused when his fingertips brushed against a scatter of unusual scar tissue, wincing sympathetically. “Chernobyl?”

Russia tensed, eyes slitting open as he looked at the Canadian warily. “How would you know that?”

Matthew blinked at him. “I…know what a uranium burn looks and feels like, Ivan,” he said honestly, lifting his left arm to expose the inside of his bicep, where a small spot marred his skin. “See that? That’s Chalk River.” He made a face as he poked at it, then rubbed at a spot on his thigh where there was no mark. “And I can feel the oil sands, in spite of how well they’re managed…the tailings pond near the Athabasca River…the pain from that thing flares up all the time.”

The wariness having faded, Ivan cringed apologetically. “Ah…sorry, I wasn’t meaning to…the way I reacted, is just…bad memories. Sometimes I wonder if that accident is one of the reasons Bela is so messed up. It’s why she wears long skirts all the time, is to hide the burns from Chernobyl…”

Canada glanced up at the older nation, biting his lower lip for a moment before leaning forward and slipping his arms under Ivan’s chest, nuzzling the back of his ear and hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry, Ivan…it…it’s hard to watch your siblings suffer from things like that.”

Russia nodded faintly, trying to think of a change of subject. “Thank you…for the massage. You’re very good at it.”

“Mm, you’re welcome. I’m glad it felt good.” Sliding his arms out from under Ivan’s body again, Canada slipped off the bed and went into the washroom, washing his hands and then coming back into the room, tugging a pair of jeans on. “I’m going to go make something to eat,” he said, picking up the red bathrobe he’d given Ivan to wear and draping it over him like a blanket. “You just relax for a bit and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ivan mumbled, half asleep already.

Canada smiled at that, ruffling Ivan’s hair and kissing him on the temple, grabbing his hoodie and tugging it on as he went to the kitchen.

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Note: Internets to anyone else who learned the song Canada sings, whether in school, boy scouts, girl scouts, or whatever, LOL. (you can hear it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUgHzMPflek )