повиновение [2/?]
anonymous
November 23 2009, 16:53:57 UTC
“Ngghn…” America blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. After a couple of times trying and failing to raise his hand up to rub at his eyes, he decided that something was very wrong.
Alfred willed his mind to fully wake up and focus on the condition of his body without giving any signs that he had gained consciousness. He silently prayed that his earlier attempts on releasing his arms went unnoticed by his captor. It seems that save for his hands, he wasn’t tied anywhere else.
When he heard no other sound aside from his (forced) slow breathing, he carefully opened one eye. With his current position, he could only see the crème door, the small bedside table with a maple leaf-decorated lamp and oh-isn’t this Matt ’s room? He unconsciously let himself relax.
Pffft-the bastard, it’s probably just one of his childish pranks. It’s been a long while since he last succeeded in doing it, though. Alfred smiled and reminded himself to think of another way to return the fa-
“Boo~!”
Chill immediately ran up his spine when silver-blond hair emerged from the top-followed by amethyst eyes and huge nose and that childlike smile…
Russia.
Alfred instinctively tried to get away from the other man as soon as possible, but after hitting a dead end (in the form of Russia’s thighs,) he decided to roll in the opposite direction in a desperate attempt to headbutt the taller nation. Unfortunately, it resulted only in him hitting his head on the bedside table and ultimately landing on the cold floor.
“ARGHH! WHAT DO YOU WANT??!” He hated how his voice sounds so hoarse and confused.
Russia innocently tilted his head. “America should be more careful next time. You almost crashed yourself against my head just now-how dangerous.”
The younger nation glared. How the heck is he in Matt’s--- oh, oh- he distantly remembered his brother saying that he decided to date the Russian a couple of months back. America inwardly cringed; Matthew has a very awful taste in choosing a partner.
“What do you want? Where’s Matt?!” America tried again, willing his voice to sound as dignified and menacing as possible.
The Russian just gave him an amused smile from where he sat on the bed. Then he calmly turned his head a little to the side and called “Милая моя? Come here, your brother seems very eager to see you.”
There was a nervous shuffling sounds, and Canada appeared beside Russia, looking at anywhere but him.
Not sensing his twin’s discomfort, the American relaxed and started to complain “Matt, what the hell? Release me, man-your joke’s going a bit too far here. Putting a sleeping drug on my coffee- even you ‘gotta admit that was pretty low.”
When several awkward seconds passed and Canada refused to answer or even look at him, America tensed again.
“H-hey buddy, c’mon-- untie me?”
“I can’t.” Canada was chewing his lip, a habit he had acquired since they were children whenever the nation felt guilty.
Russia still smiled that annoying smile of his and America froze. No way. No fucking way-what the hell. His brother, his own brother ganging up on him with this commie bastard!
He thrashed about when the Russian got up from the bed to pick him up from the floor, and felt victorious when one of his wild kicks hit the taller nation on the jaw. Heh, serves him right.
That feeling didn’t last long, however, as Russia jabbed him hard on the stomach and he felt the world spin and damnit it hurts.
America took a relatively little time to recover, but that pause in resistance was enough for Russia to grip both of his ankles and shove him hard on the bed.
Alfred willed his mind to fully wake up and focus on the condition of his body without giving any signs that he had gained consciousness. He silently prayed that his earlier attempts on releasing his arms went unnoticed by his captor. It seems that save for his hands, he wasn’t tied anywhere else.
When he heard no other sound aside from his (forced) slow breathing, he carefully opened one eye. With his current position, he could only see the crème door, the small bedside table with a maple leaf-decorated lamp and oh-isn’t this Matt ’s room? He unconsciously let himself relax.
Pffft-the bastard, it’s probably just one of his childish pranks. It’s been a long while since he last succeeded in doing it, though. Alfred smiled and reminded himself to think of another way to return the fa-
“Boo~!”
Chill immediately ran up his spine when silver-blond hair emerged from the top-followed by amethyst eyes and huge nose and that childlike smile…
Russia.
Alfred instinctively tried to get away from the other man as soon as possible, but after hitting a dead end (in the form of Russia’s thighs,) he decided to roll in the opposite direction in a desperate attempt to headbutt the taller nation. Unfortunately, it resulted only in him hitting his head on the bedside table and ultimately landing on the cold floor.
“ARGHH! WHAT DO YOU WANT??!” He hated how his voice sounds so hoarse and confused.
Russia innocently tilted his head. “America should be more careful next time. You almost crashed yourself against my head just now-how dangerous.”
The younger nation glared. How the heck is he in Matt’s--- oh, oh- he distantly remembered his brother saying that he decided to date the Russian a couple of months back. America inwardly cringed; Matthew has a very awful taste in choosing a partner.
“What do you want? Where’s Matt?!” America tried again, willing his voice to sound as dignified and menacing as possible.
The Russian just gave him an amused smile from where he sat on the bed. Then he calmly turned his head a little to the side and called “Милая моя? Come here, your brother seems very eager to see you.”
There was a nervous shuffling sounds, and Canada appeared beside Russia, looking at anywhere but him.
Not sensing his twin’s discomfort, the American relaxed and started to complain “Matt, what the hell? Release me, man-your joke’s going a bit too far here. Putting a sleeping drug on my coffee- even you ‘gotta admit that was pretty low.”
When several awkward seconds passed and Canada refused to answer or even look at him, America tensed again.
“H-hey buddy, c’mon-- untie me?”
“I can’t.” Canada was chewing his lip, a habit he had acquired since they were children whenever the nation felt guilty.
Russia still smiled that annoying smile of his and America froze. No way. No fucking way-what the hell. His brother, his own brother ganging up on him with this commie bastard!
He thrashed about when the Russian got up from the bed to pick him up from the floor, and felt victorious when one of his wild kicks hit the taller nation on the jaw. Heh, serves him right.
That feeling didn’t last long, however, as Russia jabbed him hard on the stomach and he felt the world spin and damnit it hurts.
America took a relatively little time to recover, but that pause in resistance was enough for Russia to grip both of his ankles and shove him hard on the bed.
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