Poker face 2/4
anonymous
November 23 2009, 00:20:34 UTC
This was a challenge, there was no other way of looking at it. Russia was testing his nerve, his bravery. Russia didn’t think he’d do this, that’s why Russia had offered himself as the prize. A surrender, even temporary, because he was sure that America would surrender first.
If he lay the gun down Russia would look at him with that inscrutable smile and behind it he would be smirking. He would know that he had issued a challenge that America couldn’t take, and that would not do.
And, after all, how was holding the gun to his head any different from what they did every day?
He lifted the gun and pressed the barrel against the side of his temple. It was cold and hard, digging in there. He would have pulled it further back, but he was afraid that it he didn’t support it then his hand would shake.
A six barrel revolver. A 5/6 chance he’d win this...only a 1/6 chance he’d lose. The odds were on his side, at least.
But, still, he couldn’t quite make his finger move to the trigger. He knew this probably couldn’t kill him, he was America, but he’d never heard of a nation taking a bullet to the head before so he just couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want to die. That’s what this entire damn war was about, wasn’t it, not giving Russia the chance to kill him.
Then Russia’s lip quirked a little, as if to say he knew what America was thinking, knew he was trying to back out of it, and he would never let America forget it.
America moved his finger to the trigger. He drew a deep breath, though he was sure it wouldn’t help. If only he could think more rationally, there had to be a way to get out of this and not loose face, but his heart was pounding in his chest, he could almost feel the adrenaline rushing through his system.
“Of course, if you don’t want to...” Russia said, his voice filled with false kindness.
America pulled the trigger.
There was a click as the cylinder rotated, but no shot. It had been empty. He didn’t need to be the one to find if a nation could survive being shot in the head. He lowered the gun, his breath coming in short gasps, utterly unable to control the shaking in his arm now. Russia’s face remained unchanged, a perfect blank.
America stood up, suddenly needing to move, he sent his chair skidding across the room behind him and stalked a few paces away, then turned and came back. He looked at the gun, and for a second he had the impulse to order Russia to fire it, he had said anything, but somehow he knew that Russia would have no problem picking up a gun and firing it at his own head.
“Come here,” he barked, leaning against the table and gesturing at the floor in front of him. Russia stood, that same smile still on his face, and came around the table, stopping in front of America. America took a deep breath, he had to think about this. He wasn’t going to get an opportunity like this again, he had to break Russia’s poker face, he had to.
Poker face 3/4
anonymous
November 23 2009, 00:21:48 UTC
“Strip,” he said, in what he hoped was a calm voice. Russia moved to comply, shedding first his ever present coat, then his shirt and trousers in a quick and efficient manner. Predictably, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. America shrugged of his own jacket. He looked around the room, assessing. The room was an office, they had been meeting, after all. Other then the desk and two chairs it contained a filling cabinet with a pot plant on top and a small table with a kettle, some cups and a radio. He headed there now, pulling out his pocket knife and cutting the electrical flax from the wire, then returned to Russia and wrapped it tightly around his wrists, clinching in so he couldn’t break free. It was, he found, still the best way to ensure your orders would be followed.
“Did you just want to tie me up, America?” Russia asked in that soft voice of his. “This is hardly worth a gun shot...”
The adrenaline surged to the surface again, undoing all the careful self-control he’d built over the last few minutes, and America reached up, grabbing a handful of Russia’s hair, and pulled him violently to the ground. Russia hissed a little but his expression remained unchanged.
America moved to lean against the table again, so Russia was looking up at him. He was annoyed to see that Russia had started to grow hard, especially since he hadn’t, the memory of the cold metal against his head still too fresh in his memory.
He picked the gun up again, running his finger along the barrel. Yes...yes...this would do. Slowly he turned the gun and aimed it at Russia. The other country didn’t even blink, just looked up at him calmly over the barrel of the gun.
America felt his control slip again and he reached out, grabbing Russia’s lower lip this time. He would wipe the damn smile of the other country’s face, even if he had to do it by force. He yanked down hard to Russia opened his mouth then he jammed the barrel of the gun into Russia’s mouth. Russia’s eyes widened just a fraction and America felt his cock begin to stir, he hadn’t been expecting that.
America pushed the gun as far as it would go into Russia’s mouth, making the other man gag, all the while keeping it turned to Russia could see his finger playing with the trigger, then he slowly pulled the gun out, running it over Russia’s now parted lips, then pressing it hard to the corner of his mouth. Slowly he slid the gun down along Russia’s face, then down the side of his neck, then finally up again, lodging the barrel in his throat and using the gun to push Russia’s face up.
He was smiling again.
“You know, I already took one of the chambers, that means if I fired this now there’s a one in five chance you’d die,” America said, trying to pull in his impulse to do just that. Russia blinked, another response, and America reached down with his free hand to grab a handful of Russia’s hair again, pulling it. “I could fire five shots, right here and now. I always wanted to know just what it would take to kill one of us, and if Russia was incapacitated it would solve a lot of my problems.
“I don’t think you will,” Russia said, calmly. America felt a surge of anger run through him, down to his trigger finger and before he could think he’d pulled the trigger again. The silence hung in the room for a second, Russia’s eyes were really wide now, neither of them had really expected that. America hadn’t thought he had it in him to really try to shoot someone he knew, apparently he was wrong.
“Suck it,” he said, lifting the gun to Russia’s mouth again, “Suck it like it’s my cock.”
Poker face 4/5 (damn you post length limit!)
anonymous
November 23 2009, 00:23:20 UTC
Russia paused for a second, causing a rush of pleasure through America’s body, then parted his lips again, talking the barrel of the gun into his mouth. America watched, playing with the trigger in full sight as Russia ran his tongue over the gun, bobbing his head at America’s direction. He looked, slightly off balance, slightly startled, and America wasn’t surprised when he looked down to find that the other nation was hard.
A shot of anger ran through him, this wasn’t right. Russia wasn’t meant to enjoy this, not really. This was meant to be revenge. He pulled the gun back and used his grip on Russia’s hair to pull the other nation to his feet again, throwing him over the desk.
Then he lowered the gun, running the barrel gently over Russia’s buttocks. He did it softly, barely depressing the skin, oddly like the touch of a lover if it hadn’t been cold steel, then he slid the barrel down and used it to part Russia’s ass cheeks. Russia gasped, a honest gasp, and America smiled as his cock began to grow painful against the confines of his trousers. He reached down and unfastened them with one hand so he could continue trailing the gun over Russia’s buttocks, dipping occasionally to run down between his cheeks, pressing against what they found there.
Once his cock was free he stroked it gently, but stopped. He wasn’t going to last long like this, and he needed to finish it.
He reached over with his free hand and parted Russia, giving him a good view of the other man’s entrance. Slowly, he slid the barrel of the gun down, pressing it there. Russia let out a little moan, brining his hips up slightly to meet it, and America felt his vision narrow to the gun and the way Russia’s hips moved against it, as if he meant to take the gun in to himself.
America couldn’t think any more, he grabbed Russia’s hips and rolled him on to his back so he could watch the other man. Russia...his face. It wasn’t so calm any more. His eyes were open, shockingly so, his lips red where he had been biting them, there was a wonderful flush over his cheeks and down his neck.
A stray rational thought crossed America’s mind and he cast his eyes about for lube, it wasn’t right to just take a man with no preparation, even though Russia seemed more than ready to accept him. The thought was quickly swept away though as Russia whispered please, a deep breathy whisper so unlike the tone America was used to his using, and pushed him ass against America’s penis.
America thrust forward, all sense lost to the sensation of Russia around him, to the look to shocked abandon on Russia’s fact, to the overwhelming knowledge that he had finally done something surprising enough to shatter the other countries calm.
He came with a scream, barely aware of Russia joining him.
Poker face 5/5 (the end)
anonymous
November 23 2009, 00:24:04 UTC
When he could think again he moved back and pulled out of Russia, who was looking oddly pleased with himself. It occurred to America as he moved that it was easier to slide out of Russia then it should have been, the bastard had come prepared. Once America stepped back, Russia pushed himself up from his awkward position, lying at an angle with his bound wrists twisted to the side, and looked at America, an odd contentment on his face.
“If I’d known that all it took to make you act like that was to convince you to risk shooting yourself, I would have done it years ago,” Russia said, the soft controlled tone back, even though his face was still showing more emotion than usual. America snorted, pulling his pants back up and turning to look at Russia, sat on the edge of the table looking wonderfully fucked.
“If I’d know you’d get off on this crap I’d have given it to you sooner.”
“Only sometimes, I’m afraid,” Russia said, the fake smile finally slipping back into place. “I can be quite a masochist, but when the mood takes me I can be very much the sadist too.”
“We’ll see,” America shot back, turning to go leave. He looked back for a second, then opened the door. He managed to see, just for a second, the look of shock on Russia’s face as he realised America really was about to go and leave him there, his hands bound, naked and his own cum all over his chest.
Walking away America grinned to himself. The threat Russia posed was still hanging there, this wouldn’t resolve the nuclear issue, but for today, he had cracked that fake smile, and what more could you ask of one day’s work?
Re: Poker face 5/5 (the end)
anonymous
November 23 2009, 02:14:34 UTC
HOLY... and I don't even ship America/Russia, but this is too hot. The struggle for power is just unbearable. And somehow there is sex and it still feels like UST lol
If he lay the gun down Russia would look at him with that inscrutable smile and behind it he would be smirking. He would know that he had issued a challenge that America couldn’t take, and that would not do.
And, after all, how was holding the gun to his head any different from what they did every day?
He lifted the gun and pressed the barrel against the side of his temple. It was cold and hard, digging in there. He would have pulled it further back, but he was afraid that it he didn’t support it then his hand would shake.
A six barrel revolver. A 5/6 chance he’d win this...only a 1/6 chance he’d lose. The odds were on his side, at least.
But, still, he couldn’t quite make his finger move to the trigger. He knew this probably couldn’t kill him, he was America, but he’d never heard of a nation taking a bullet to the head before so he just couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want to die. That’s what this entire damn war was about, wasn’t it, not giving Russia the chance to kill him.
Then Russia’s lip quirked a little, as if to say he knew what America was thinking, knew he was trying to back out of it, and he would never let America forget it.
America moved his finger to the trigger. He drew a deep breath, though he was sure it wouldn’t help. If only he could think more rationally, there had to be a way to get out of this and not loose face, but his heart was pounding in his chest, he could almost feel the adrenaline rushing through his system.
“Of course, if you don’t want to...” Russia said, his voice filled with false kindness.
America pulled the trigger.
There was a click as the cylinder rotated, but no shot. It had been empty. He didn’t need to be the one to find if a nation could survive being shot in the head. He lowered the gun, his breath coming in short gasps, utterly unable to control the shaking in his arm now. Russia’s face remained unchanged, a perfect blank.
America stood up, suddenly needing to move, he sent his chair skidding across the room behind him and stalked a few paces away, then turned and came back. He looked at the gun, and for a second he had the impulse to order Russia to fire it, he had said anything, but somehow he knew that Russia would have no problem picking up a gun and firing it at his own head.
“Come here,” he barked, leaning against the table and gesturing at the floor in front of him. Russia stood, that same smile still on his face, and came around the table, stopping in front of America. America took a deep breath, he had to think about this. He wasn’t going to get an opportunity like this again, he had to break Russia’s poker face, he had to.
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“Did you just want to tie me up, America?” Russia asked in that soft voice of his. “This is hardly worth a gun shot...”
The adrenaline surged to the surface again, undoing all the careful self-control he’d built over the last few minutes, and America reached up, grabbing a handful of Russia’s hair, and pulled him violently to the ground. Russia hissed a little but his expression remained unchanged.
America moved to lean against the table again, so Russia was looking up at him. He was annoyed to see that Russia had started to grow hard, especially since he hadn’t, the memory of the cold metal against his head still too fresh in his memory.
He picked the gun up again, running his finger along the barrel. Yes...yes...this would do. Slowly he turned the gun and aimed it at Russia. The other country didn’t even blink, just looked up at him calmly over the barrel of the gun.
America felt his control slip again and he reached out, grabbing Russia’s lower lip this time. He would wipe the damn smile of the other country’s face, even if he had to do it by force. He yanked down hard to Russia opened his mouth then he jammed the barrel of the gun into Russia’s mouth. Russia’s eyes widened just a fraction and America felt his cock begin to stir, he hadn’t been expecting that.
America pushed the gun as far as it would go into Russia’s mouth, making the other man gag, all the while keeping it turned to Russia could see his finger playing with the trigger, then he slowly pulled the gun out, running it over Russia’s now parted lips, then pressing it hard to the corner of his mouth. Slowly he slid the gun down along Russia’s face, then down the side of his neck, then finally up again, lodging the barrel in his throat and using the gun to push Russia’s face up.
He was smiling again.
“You know, I already took one of the chambers, that means if I fired this now there’s a one in five chance you’d die,” America said, trying to pull in his impulse to do just that. Russia blinked, another response, and America reached down with his free hand to grab a handful of Russia’s hair again, pulling it. “I could fire five shots, right here and now. I always wanted to know just what it would take to kill one of us, and if Russia was incapacitated it would solve a lot of my problems.
“I don’t think you will,” Russia said, calmly. America felt a surge of anger run through him, down to his trigger finger and before he could think he’d pulled the trigger again. The silence hung in the room for a second, Russia’s eyes were really wide now, neither of them had really expected that. America hadn’t thought he had it in him to really try to shoot someone he knew, apparently he was wrong.
“Suck it,” he said, lifting the gun to Russia’s mouth again, “Suck it like it’s my cock.”
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A shot of anger ran through him, this wasn’t right. Russia wasn’t meant to enjoy this, not really. This was meant to be revenge. He pulled the gun back and used his grip on Russia’s hair to pull the other nation to his feet again, throwing him over the desk.
Then he lowered the gun, running the barrel gently over Russia’s buttocks. He did it softly, barely depressing the skin, oddly like the touch of a lover if it hadn’t been cold steel, then he slid the barrel down and used it to part Russia’s ass cheeks. Russia gasped, a honest gasp, and America smiled as his cock began to grow painful against the confines of his trousers. He reached down and unfastened them with one hand so he could continue trailing the gun over Russia’s buttocks, dipping occasionally to run down between his cheeks, pressing against what they found there.
Once his cock was free he stroked it gently, but stopped. He wasn’t going to last long like this, and he needed to finish it.
He reached over with his free hand and parted Russia, giving him a good view of the other man’s entrance. Slowly, he slid the barrel of the gun down, pressing it there. Russia let out a little moan, brining his hips up slightly to meet it, and America felt his vision narrow to the gun and the way Russia’s hips moved against it, as if he meant to take the gun in to himself.
America couldn’t think any more, he grabbed Russia’s hips and rolled him on to his back so he could watch the other man. Russia...his face. It wasn’t so calm any more. His eyes were open, shockingly so, his lips red where he had been biting them, there was a wonderful flush over his cheeks and down his neck.
A stray rational thought crossed America’s mind and he cast his eyes about for lube, it wasn’t right to just take a man with no preparation, even though Russia seemed more than ready to accept him. The thought was quickly swept away though as Russia whispered please, a deep breathy whisper so unlike the tone America was used to his using, and pushed him ass against America’s penis.
America thrust forward, all sense lost to the sensation of Russia around him, to the look to shocked abandon on Russia’s fact, to the overwhelming knowledge that he had finally done something surprising enough to shatter the other countries calm.
He came with a scream, barely aware of Russia joining him.
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“If I’d known that all it took to make you act like that was to convince you to risk shooting yourself, I would have done it years ago,” Russia said, the soft controlled tone back, even though his face was still showing more emotion than usual. America snorted, pulling his pants back up and turning to look at Russia, sat on the edge of the table looking wonderfully fucked.
“If I’d know you’d get off on this crap I’d have given it to you sooner.”
“Only sometimes, I’m afraid,” Russia said, the fake smile finally slipping back into place. “I can be quite a masochist, but when the mood takes me I can be very much the sadist too.”
“We’ll see,” America shot back, turning to go leave. He looked back for a second, then opened the door. He managed to see, just for a second, the look of shock on Russia’s face as he realised America really was about to go and leave him there, his hands bound, naked and his own cum all over his chest.
Walking away America grinned to himself. The threat Russia posed was still hanging there, this wouldn’t resolve the nuclear issue, but for today, he had cracked that fake smile, and what more could you ask of one day’s work?
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ReCaptcha: 99.45 Molotov (is like a magic 8 ball!)
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A-and guns are my greatest kink and this was very well written and I love you, let's get married, marriedmarriedmarried~
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This was epic, my friend. This was...gah, this wonderfully dark, sexy, dangerous tone was exactly what I was looking for.
"And, after all, how was holding the gun to his head any different from what they did every day?"
FFFF. I'm not sure why, but I loved that. Andand the gun kink. Ohoho, the gun kink. Thanks for making my night~
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