Distraction

Original Prompt: would love to read some delicious CubaxCanada smut. With Canada being a cute blushing mess and Cuba...being Cuba. Bonus points if it's Canada's first time

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Canada was at Cuba’s house again. Cuba was watching him daintily sip at a mojito as they sat outside a street café, the sound of a guitar and drums filling the air from the performers set up at the corner of the street. The late evening air was warm, but a slight breeze ruffled their clothes and hair, drying the sweat that had accumulated while the sun was still high and hot in the sky.

Canada’s cheeks were a bit pink as he sat down the now-empty glass, the ice and mint leaves shifting around a bit with a clink. “Hey, Cuba,” he murmured, looking up at the dark-skinned nation, “What’s this music called, eh? It’s nice.”

Cuba grinned; his teeth were very white against his deeply tanned skin. “S’called son cubano,” he explained. “It’s the basis of a lot of music, but it’s one of the few that’s really unique to here.” Standing, he offered a hand to Canada, who took it a bit shyly. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”

“Didn’t you say something about wanting to go out tonight, Cuba?” Canada asked curiously, though he didn’t protest to being pulled to his feet. Cuba tossed a few crumpled bills from his pocket onto the table, which would be more than enough to cover their ice cream and drinks; but he was looking out over the streets toward the ocean, not paying attention to what Canada had said. “Eh, Cuba.” Tugging on the other nation’s arm, Canada’s lips curled into a frown.

“Hm?” Cuba looked down at Canada, chuckling a bit at the adorable pout that had crossed his face. “Sorry, Canadá. Come on.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Cuba led Canada to the gate that opened out onto the street, walking at a slow ambling pace that was characteristic of most tropical climate nations. Canada had to keep his own speed in check, not wanting to get ahead of the other nation. His palm was starting to sweat a bit from Cuba’s hand wrapped around his own, but he didn’t want to let go. The late twilight prompted the lighting of the street lights, illuminating their way back to the Hotel Armadores de Santander. More and more people were hitting the streets as they walked, the Havana night life getting into full swing.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, Canada’s flush had grown, the rum from his drink settling into his veins. “Eh, Cuba…” he started, glancing over at the taller nation.

Cuba looked down at Canada curiously. “Yes, querido?”

"What were you looking at earlier, eh?" Canada asked, squeezing his hand. "You looked kind of worried."

Shaking his head, Cuba reached out and ruffled Canada's hair a bit."It's nothing... what's wrong?" he retorted, seeing Canada flinch as his hand came into contact with the smaller nation's hair.

"Nn--Oh, no, it's..." Flush deepening, Canada chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his body under control. He knew what happened when people touched the curl of hair that stubbornly stuck out from his head, but those feelings had never hit him so strongly. It was like electricity arcing down his spine. "Let's just go inside..."

Frowning, Cuba awkwardly scratched at his dreadlocks before nodding and following Canada inside. The nation's voice had sounded almost pained... "You sure you're okay, querido?"

Canada nodded quickly, not wanting Cuba to worry. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, heading toward the stairs and retrieving his room key from his pocket. His room was on the second floor, offering a balcony with a view of the bay and the street below.

It wasn't until they got into the room, and Canada moved to draw the curtains over his balcony door, that he realized what Cuba had been looking at: dark storm clouds, heavy with rain, were steadily heading toward the town. Canada was fairly certain a hurricane hadn't been in the forecast for his trip, but having experienced quite a few in his lifetime, he knew how devastating they could be.

Feeling Cuba step up behind him, he turned to look at the other nation. "Are there any big storm systems on the way?" he asked, his voice holding a hint of nervousness.

Cuba shook his head, reaching up to rest a hand on the northern nation's shoulder. "Don't worry. S'just a regular ol' thunderstorm."

Nodding, Canada couldn't help but gulp slightly, taking a deep breath. He turned around again to draw the curtains, hoping that the storm would pass quickly--he couldn't sleep during them, and frankly, he was a bit afraid of them.

"Mind if I smoke?" Cuba asked, pulling a cigar out of his pocket questioningly. At a shake of Canada's head, he also pulled out a book of matches, striking one and lighting his cigar with a sharp draw of breath. As he smoked, he watched the smaller country walk over to turn on the television, though he didn't seem terribly interested in what was on--leaving it on the news channel, which was in Spanish.

It wasn't until the first crash of thunder made Canada flinch that Cuba realized what, exactly, was going on. Snubbing out his cigar in a conveniently placed ash tray , he walked over to the bed to join Canada in sitting, leaning back comfortably on his elbows. "Afraid of the thunder, querido?"

"N-no!" Canada insisted, a bit too quickly to sound sincere. "Just... just because I'm alone a lot during storms, a-and just because I'm not a 'hero' like my brother, that doesn't mean I'm afraid! I'm not afraid of a stupid thunderst--"

Rolling his eyes, Cuba did the only thing he could think of to shut Canada up: he leaned over and kissed the other nation square on the mouth, sliding one hand into his gold-red locks. His glasses were digging into Cuba's nose a bit, but he didn't mind, too distracted by the lingering hint of rum, lime and mint from the mojito Canada had drank earlier.

When he thought he'd quieted down Canada enough, Cuba pulled away, leaving behind a lightly panting nation with dazed eyes. "Cuba..." Canada breathed, blinking a few times before focusing his view on the other nation.

"Si, Canadá?" Cuba asked, a smirk on his face at Canada's reaction. Sometimes, the smaller country was just too cute to resist.

"Will you... stay with me tonight?" Canada's voice was surprisingly strong, considering the question he'd just asked. "Not-not because I'm scared or anything, just..."

Cuba's smirk turned into a full-fledged smile at that. "Want some company?" When Canada gave a tiny nod, he couldn't help himself any longer; he had to kiss the other nation again.

This time, Canada let out a small mewl, shifting closer to rest his hands on Cuba's broad chest. The other nation's skin was warm under his thin shirt. Canada was so caught up in the kiss that he barely realized Cuba's fingers were deftly unbuttoning his own shirt, exposing soft, creamy skin that seemed to beg to be touched. Breaking the kiss, Cuba's lips slowly made their way along Canada's jaw and neck, eventually latching onto the nation's collarbone and biting down sharply.

Canada moaned softly at the feeling of Cuba's kisses, and the scratch of his stubble against sensitive skin; but Canada cried out sharply when he felt teeth bite down on his skin. "Cuba! W-what are you..."

"Taste so good, querido," Cuba murmured against the northern nation's skin. "Like jarabe de arce..."

"M-maple syrup?" Canada's eyes widened upon hearing this declaration. "Really?" Considering no one had ever done this to him before, and Canada didn't have a habit of licking himself, he'd never known how he tasted.

"Si..." Cuba's voice sounded throaty as he continued to move downward. Another clap of thunder made Canada squeak, but his fear was quickly forgotten when Cuba's mouth closed around a nipple.

Within minutes, the storm was completely forgotten, practically drowned out by Canada's heavy breathing. Cuba was stripping and ravishing his body methodically, pausing any time Canada moaned or cried out to thoroughly cover that area with kisses, licks and love bites. By the time Cuba's mouth had reached Canada's groin, the northern country was spotted like a bobcat.

Looking down at Cuba with hazy eyes, Canada asked breathlessly, "What... what are you going to do now, Cuba?"

"...Wanna find out if you taste as sweet down here," Cuba grunted, his tongue lapping at a bead of moisture that had built up on the tip of Canada's stiff cock. It wasn't as sweet as the rest of him, but it still held that syrupy, maple goodness that seemed Canada seemed to exude naturally. He smirked a bit when he heard Canada cry out, looking up to see the nation's flushed face and sweat-damp hair. "Feel good?"

"Mmhmm--Ahhh!" Canada's body arched as Cuba's mouth suddenly engulfed his cock and started to suck harshly. "Cuba... please..."

"Please what?"

Canada flushed more at the smug tone in Cuba's voice, turning his face away from the island nation and mumbling, "Please... I want more..."

Nodding, Cuba pressed a lingering kiss to Canada's lips before sliding off the bed, searching through the luggage in the corner until he found what he was looking for: a small bottle of thick, creamy lotion. Bringing it back to the bed, he slicked his fingers before gently spreading Canada's legs with his clean hand. "S'gonna hurt some," he cautioned Canada.

"I don't care, Cuba..." The room was almost pitch-black, but the small amount of light that streamed through a crack in the curtains illuminated Canada's pale skin and reflected in his blue-violet eyes. The tips of his hair were plastered in curls around his face, all except for that one stubborn curl that seemed to defy gravity. While his lotion-slicked fingers gently worked at Canada's entrance, his other hand reached up to touch the curl.

"Aaahhhhh!" Canada cried out, both from the pain of a thick finger breaching his sphincter and the pleasure from Cuba's hand on his hair. "Cuba! Ple-eeeease, too much..." His cock was twitching and dripping precum profusely, leaving a small wet spot on his stomach.

Realizing what that hair did to Canada, Cuba grinned almost sadistically, filing the information away for later. He removed his hand, instead reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. It took him a moment, but he was able to extricate a small foil package from it while he added a second finger to Canada's ass. "Almost ready, amor?"

"Yes, please! I'm so hot, Cuba, please, I need you!" Canada's moans were breathless and he squirmed around, trying to get more sensation from Cuba's fingers. It was still uncomfortable, but his cock was so hard it hurt and he couldn't stand the waiting any longer.

With a nod, Cuba removed his two fingers, stripping off his clothing quickly and rolling the condom onto his cock. "S'gonna hurt... your first time," Cuba murmured. "But it'll feel good soon, promise."

Looking up at Cuba in surprise when he spoke, Canada chewed on his lower lip in apprehension. "How did you know?"

"That you're a virgin?" Cuba clarified. "You're so tight down there, I figured it was that or just that it'd been a really long time."

Canada nodded slightly; while some of the things Cuba had done to him were familiar (part of him had belonged to France at one point, after all) he'd never gone this far with anyone before. He was glad his first time would be with Cuba, though, someone he really trusted--

His thoughts were cut off as Cuba started to press against his entrance. The nation's cock was definitely bigger than the two fingers before, and Canada had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from crying out as the thick length finally made its way inside. He felt Cuba's chapped lips on his cheeks, and with a start realized tears were squeezing from the corners of his tightly shut eyes. "S'gonna be okay," the southern country mumbled in a rough voice. He was almost trembling, trying so hard to stay still so that Canada could adjust. "So tight, dios mio..."

After a couple of minutes, the pain level had lowered a bit, leaving Canada feeling more uncomfortably full than split open. He gingerly shifted his hips, wincing a little, but there was a little niggling feeling inside that seemed to hint to this experience getting much better very soon. "Cuba... you can move now," he whispered, spreading his legs a little wider.

Cuba seemed to hesitate, but he really couldn't hold back any longer. He started to thrust slowly, a deep rumbling moan escaping his throat at the tight heat of Canada's body. "So good," he groaned, reaching down to grasp Canada's hips. "Wrap your legs around me, amor."

Gasping and keening softly as Canada's ass was filled over and over again, he lifted his trembling legs and did as he was told, hooking his feet together to keep them in place. Along with Cuba's hands on his hips, this gave the southern nation a new angle to thrust, making the sensation change from uncomfortable to enjoyable. "Ah, Cuba... it feels kinda weird..."

Hearing that, Cuba started to thrust harder, moving one hand from Canada's hip to his erection. He started to stroke Canada in time with his thrusts, leaning down and pressing kisses to the other nation's chest and shoulders. "Fuck... feels so fuckin' good, Canada..."

Canada opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, a sharp cry of pleasure came out instead. "Aahhh! Cuba!" His head lolled from side to side as Cuba's thrusts continued to hit that spot, his back arching more and his whole body alive with sensation. "So close, Cuba!"

"Not gonna last long either," Cuba grunted, his cock being squeezed pleasurably by the spasms that hit Canada's body when his prostate was stimulated. "C'mon, Canadá, come for me..."

Cuba's words were all Canada needed to hit his peak; with a loud cry of the other nation's name and unintelligible French, he came all over Cuba's hand and his own stomach. His climax sparked Cuba's as well, though the other nation simply groaned into Canada's neck as he emptied himself into the condom. "Canadá..."

All was still in the room, the silence broken only by heavy pants and small moans as aftershocks of pleasure coursed through the two nations. Cuba slowly pulled out of Canada, struggling to his feet and walking over to the bathroom. He came back a minute later, sans condom but with a warm, wet washcloth in his hand. "Clean yerself up, querido," he murmured with a small smile, dropping the washcloth on Canada's chest.

Grunting a little, Canada opened his eyes, his glasses skewed but somehow still in place. "Hey... Cuba? I don't hear the storm any more."

Cuba couldn't help but smirk at that, moving over to open the curtains and peer outside. "Looks like the storm's passed," he informed the northern nation. He crawled back into the double bed, giving Canada a chaste kiss while he cleaned himself up. "At least I was a good distraction, huh?"