Tried and True [3/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 06:26:34 UTC
For someone who was supposed to be such an accomplished spy, Russia was doing a pretty piss-poor job of appearing inconspicuous as he and England made their way out to his car. It was the giggling. Nothing says, 'I'm doing something I'm not supposed to' like giggling. If he hadn't been so huge, Russia could have passed for a kid playing hooky from school. You would think the man had never cut a conference for a shag before.
Well, to be fair, Russia had said that the shagging was only a possibility. He apparently had a few other things in mind beyond normal sex, and England was willing to indulge him. Never let it be said that England was too old and stuck in his ways to experiment, even if he was having a little difficulty wrapping his mind around the present 'experiment.'
The massive nation seemed to be in almost obnoxiously high spirits; he opened the passenger car door for England with a playful little bow, and was humming to himself (something that sounded suspiciously like the Tetris theme) as he climbed into the driver's side, started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
“Quite chipper today, aren't you?” England said after several loops of the hummed rendition of Tetris.
“Of course,” Russia said happily. “It is so difficult to find anyone to play with, you know. How lucky I am!”
“You shouldn't be too surprised about that,” England said quietly, glancing out the window when the utter weirdness of what was going on made his stomach flip-flop a few times. “I can't imagine there are too many people who are...ah, comfortable with...this....sort of thing.”
“I don't just mean that,” Russia said, a little sadly. “No one even wants to come over to have tea or play chess with me these days.”
Oh bugger. Just when England was starting to feel uncomfortable and wondering if he could still back out, Russia had to turn on that kicked puppy look. If he had resembled a boy playing hooky before, now he seemed like the child who is always left out on the playground. England felt his resistance crumble in an instant, and reached up to pat the taller man's head.
“Well, there's no need for you to worry about that now,” he said, in his most reassuring big brother voice. “I can never turn down a cup of tea, and I'm not too terrible at chess either, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh, but you aren't coming over just for tea and chess!” Russia reminded him with a huge grin. The kicked puppy now had a smile like a shark. “Of course I will offer you tea, and we can play chess while we wait for your bladder to fill back up again...speaking of which, how is it?”
England took a few seconds to recover from the mental whiplash before considering the question. He could feel a slight twinge already, and unless the rains in London were letting up far earlier than the weatherman had predicted on the news that morning, the twinge would turn into an aching need in no time at all.
“Noticeable, but not bad now,” he said honestly.
“I see. We still have a way to go before we get to my house. Will you be able to wait that long?”
“Depends on how long that is.”
“About half an hour now, I believe.”
England chewed at the inside of his lip, thinking back to how fast he had been filling up all day. “It might be a bit close there. Drive fast, will you?”
The car accelerated in reply. England leaned his head against the window and watched trees and farmland whiz by outside. The silence turned oppressively awkward in a hurry, and maybe even the socially challenged Russia had picked up on that, because he switched on the radio after a while. The car was filled with the sound of a man's voice.
“Listen!” Russia said, pointing to the radio. “He's talking about you.”
“I don't know Russian,” England replied, frowning at the speakers. “Mind translating for me?”
Tried and True [4/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 06:32:37 UTC
“Ah, of course not! They are just talking about the flood in London right now. It is making international news! It must be quite...intense, da?”
Intense was a nice word for it. Just mentioning it caused a urgent little wave to wash over England, and he quickly crossed his legs to ward it off.
“This June has been the rainiest one London has had in over a century, they're saying,” Russia cheerfully continued. “There is water standing in the streets all over.”
England squeezed his legs together a little tighter. Yes, he could feel it, all the way back home...
“And all the poor people are having to splash their way through it on their way to work. Underground places are having a lot of trouble, what with all that water filling everything up-”
England swallowed hard.
“No fatalities, that's lucky, but it's such a nuisance, they said, with all that water, water, water everywhere. The whole city is just dripping wet, completely soaked through-”
“You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?” England snapped, shifting his weight back and forth in the seat. Russia raised his eyebrows innocently, but England just rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, trying not to think too much about his soaking wet city. He had felt reasonably sure that he could get to Russia's house without an emergency stop, but after that bit of narration he was suddenly much less certain.
A few minutes later, he wasn't certain at all.
“I hate to say this, but I need you to stop for a minute,” England said tensely, struggling to not hold himself like a child in front of Russia.
“But we are almost home!” Russia protested. “Another ten minutes or so. Can't you wait that long?”
England felt his ears flare red. “N-no, I really can't. Could you pull over for a minute?”
“I have a better idea.” Russia reached over to the backseat of the car, keeping one hand on the wheel as he felt around for something. He swerved dangerous for a few seconds, and England was terribly glad there were no other cars around for miles, before he pulled out a small water bottle. “Here, you may use this.”
England gave the object a doubtful look. It was small, much too small. He couldn't even empty his bladder a third of the way with that thing. “I don't suppose you've got anything larger lying around?” he asked hopefully. “An empty vodka bottle, maybe?”
Russia looked as though England had just suggested that he eat a kitten. “I would never use a vodka bottle for that!” he declared passionately. “I have standards! You may use the water bottle, or you can hold it until we get home.”
England grumbled under his breath, but there was little choice now. At least the water bottle could let off some of the pressure, right? He took a deep breath, willed himself to not blush, unscrewed the top of the bottle and unzipped his fly. The car suddenly began to swerve dangerously again; Russia had taken his eyes off the road entirely and was just staring at England.
“What are you doing, you...you idiot!” England sputtered, clamping his legs together as the fear of driving straight off the road and into a tree made his bladder spasm. “Watch the road or pull over!”
Tried and True [5/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 06:37:21 UTC
Russia promptly pulled over, put the car in park and turned all his eager attention to England. Trying to ignore his audience, England pulled his cock out and rest the tip against the opening of the bottle. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and tried to relax. The pattering sound of water hitting plastic told him it was working. He curled his toes, trying to keep from letting go completely, but he couldn't stop the stream from increasing in force slightly after a moment. There was just too much pressure, too much. Oh, he wanted to relax and let go! He was getting almost no relief at all from the weak trickle he was letting out.
“You better stop soon,” Russia warned. “The bottle is nearly full.”
England bit down on his tongue and tried to cut off the flow. For a few frightening seconds, he couldn't stop. It just kept coming, and he was afraid he was going to spill right out of the bottle and soak the floor of Russia's car...but fortunately he dribbled to a stop before things could end in disaster. With trembling hands he rescrewed the top and zipped himself back up again. He was about to ask if he could empty the bottle outside and refill it once more, but Russia had already restarted the car and pulled back on to the road. England tried not the groan. That hadn't helped at all. If anything, it had made him even more desperate. The tiny bit he had been allowed to piss only teased his overfull bladder, and made the very tip of his cock throb urgently.
“It's very clear, isn't it?” Russia commented, picking the full water bottle up from the drink holder England had left it in and peering at it curiously. England was about to scold him for not watching the road again, but since he could see Russia trying to keep one eye on the road, he let it slide.
“Of course it's clear. I'm full of rainwater right now, aren't I?”
“Hm. And it's so warm too!”
“And why the hell does that surprise you?” England snapped, half in discomfort and half in embarrassment that Russia was staring at a bottle of his piss like it was some fascinating science experiment. “Yours is warm too.” At least he was relatively sure about that. You always heard weird stories about Russia, and if you believed half of them, the nation had ice cubes floating through his veins and pissed glacier runoff. The thought made England shiver.
“I suppose so,” Russia hummed thoughtfully. “But this is a very nice temperature. You must be nice and warm inside.”
Bloody Russia. Bloody creepy-cute Russia.
“Drive faster,” England grumbled, recrossing his legs.
Russia was thankfully obedient, and soon Russia's oversized, slightly rundown house came into view. England's bladder quivered eagerly, and he gave his cock a quick, discrete squeeze before hopping out after Russia pulled up the driveway. England got to the door first, and had to wait, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly, as Russia took his sweet time walking over.
“Oh dear.”
England felt his stomach drop at those words. He glanced back at Russia, who was patting his pockets worriedly.
“What's wrong now?” England moaned. He was in no mood for any more delays, and honestly, his bladder couldn't stand much more either.
Russia just gave him a sheepish look. “I am afraid I've lost my house key.”
Re: Tried and True [5/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 08:30:46 UTC
Oh anon, I'm kind of glad you had some build-up here; giggling, giddy, creepy-cute Russia is freaking awesome. This is how I wish more people would write him, normally, although I'm aware he must have a darker, smarter, more serious side, too. But this is the kind of thing I expect him to show others most of the time. And yeah, he is socially challenged, indeed. <3
And god, all the little quirks you wrote in: the Tetris theme song and the sad puppy-dog look (Russia manages to gain even France's sympathy in canon with this kind of cute sadness!) that actually gets him a Mommy!England head-pat are glorious. As is Russia's "helpful" translation of the news! XD But this is just about the best thing I've ever read:
Russia looked as though England had just suggested that he eat a kitten. “I would never use a vodka bottle for that!” he declared passionately. “I have standards! You may use the water bottle, or you can hold it until we get home.” Also, it makes me think of Russia making awkward jokes about eating kittens, then sad-facing when others take it seriously. LOL
So damn awesome, anon. <3 I expected to enjoy this fill, but not this much. XDDD
And England pretty much says it all: Bloody Russia. Bloody creepy-cute Russia.
... I'm not entirely sure if Russia lost his keys on purpose, or if he just left them behind in the excitement of finding someone to "play" with. In all meanings of the word!
ReCAPTCHA is not as sentient as usual: "karaoke and" Somehow, I don't think karaoke is going to play a big part of this fill. ORZ
Re: Tried and True [5/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 13:54:52 UTC
Authornon, I SQUEALED when I saw that this had updated, no lie.
Your characterizations are spot-on - Russia's got the childlike innocence that manages to be incredibly creepy, and England's long-suffering attitude is perfect. (I'm certain that Russia is doing ALL OF THIS on purpose, though. 8D)
Re: Tried and True [5/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 14:02:17 UTC
Ohgosh, first commenter couldn't've said it any better. =D I have absolutely no concrit, this fill is wonderful! Love Russia in this, he's just perfect. ;3; Creepy yet child-in-an-adult-body-ish way. Ffff, and I lol'd at the Tetris theme.
Also, the bit where Russia was talking about how wet England is was actually kinda hot, unf.
Re: Tried and True [5/?]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 22:41:03 UTC
So SO PERFECT, your England and Russia are bloody perfect in every single thing. Russia's creepy and cute atittude, his mood swings, the rumours going aroudn about him...and wow, sexy, Russia's little torture of England. I giggled like...well, like Russia, when he started to narrate about the London floodsXD
Russia looked as though England had just suggested that he eat a kitten. “I would never use a vodka bottle for that!” he declared passionately. “I have standards! You may use the water bottle, or you can hold it until we get home.”
Re: Tried and True [5/?]
anonymous
June 30 2010, 15:37:30 UTC
Oh, authornon, you know your fill is gold when you've captured the attention of an anon who doesn't even have an interest in this kink! Although I may do after reading more... But I love this pairing and I love the way you're handling it. Creepy-cute!Russia is my favourite kind of creepy-cute, and England's awkward willingness is perfect <3
I'll eagerly be waiting for more, anon!
Captcha says: the rebuke. Oh, shut up, Captcha, I was prepared for corruption when I entered the kink meme and I regret nothing!
Re: Tried and True [5/?]
anonymous
July 11 2010, 01:39:06 UTC
I don't think I've ever felt so happy about reading a fic... Seriously, it's bleeding perfect! When it's done- which I hope isn't too soon, o gosh- I'd love to draw some fanart for it. (Very) anxiously awaiting an update! <3
Tried and True [6/?]
anonymous
July 13 2010, 08:12:03 UTC
(Thank you for the support, anons! I'm so happy to hear you guys like it!)
It wouldn't be completely accurate to say that England blanched. That word didn't really do justice to the way every drop of blood drained out of his face.
“You must be joking.”
“Nyet, I am sorry,” Russia answered, still patting his pockets as if he expected the keys to suddenly appear.
It was at that very moment that England's bladder decided that it was quite fed up with being teased, thank you very much, and spasmed so suddenly and violently that England couldn't stop a tiny, warm dribble from leaking out and soaking into his underwear. His hands flew to his cock immediately, squeezing tightly to stop any further leaks, but he could tell he was fighting a losing battle.
“I might need to call a locksmith,” Russia mused to himself, seemingly unaware of England's predicament. “It may take half an hour or so.”
“Well I don't have half a bloody hour!” England snapped. He couldn't let go of himself now, not without flooding his pants. His face had gone red and turned a little redder every time the wet patch on his underwear rubbed against his cock.
“Oh! That is a problem, is it not? What shall we do with you?” It almost sounded like an innocent, honest question, but Russia's playful little grin gave it away.
If the situation had been different at all, England would have made a beeline for the nearest tree, bugger everyone else. But he was playing Russia's game now, by his own accord. He could stop playing and find a tree if he wanted, but...he didn't quite want to stop, no matter how uncomfortable he currently was. And there was a strange, needy thrum of pleasure building up behind the pain...
“Think you can find me somewhere to, er...go?” he asked awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. There, the ball was in Russia's court. Why did that thought make his cock twitch slightly?
“Hmm...” Russia hummed loudly, making a great show of pacing back and forth as he considered the question. England was almost convinced that Russia was just going to stand there, pretending to ponder until England pissed himself, but he finally said, “Ah ha! I have thought of something. Follow me, please.”
England followed at a slow, hunched pace as Russia trotted around the side of the house. He was suddenly terribly glad that Russia had no neighbors; his posture was exactly that of a child right on the brink of an accident. Russia had stopped near a neglected flower garden. There were a few scraggly sprouts, but mostly it was bare dirt.
“Please move your hands?” he asked, smiling sweetly.
“I-I'm not sure that I can,” England admitted, gulping when another wave of urgency passed over him.
“We will do this quickly, da?” Russia reassured him, giving him a little pat on the shoulder. “Just move your hands, and allow me to take care of the rest.”
England took a slow, deep breath, tensed every muscle he could and let his hands drop to his sides. The need spiked up to an almost unbearable level without his hands to hold himself, but Russia was already at work, unzipping England's fly and reaching in past his underwear to pull out his cock.
“Ah, we waited a little too long, da?” he giggled, and England flushed, knowing his must have noticed the wet spot. Finally he was freed from his trousers and Russia easily took him in hand, inching back until that he was standing behind England and reaching around to aim him. “There,” he whispered into England's ear. “Now you may-”
England's bladder was past the point of waiting for permission. Another huge rush of desperation gripped him, and this time it won, pushing past all his efforts to hold back. A huge spurt of piss gushed out of him, and another, and another until the pulsing waves had melded into a single powerful stream. It was good Russia was standing behind him; he might have fallen if he didn't have something to lean back against. The relief made his knees feel like jelly, and he didn't bother holding back a moan of pleasure at the feeling. His bladder was still painfully full, but he could feel the pressure slowly easing. He could hear a hiss and a wet splattering against soil and...and there was a strange feeling of Russia's hands moving over his cock.
Tried and True [7/?]
anonymous
July 13 2010, 08:14:38 UTC
He blinked his eyes open (when had he closed them?) and saw that Russia was indeed aiming him this way and that. The calluses on his hands rubbed against the sensitive skin (made even more sensitive by his overfull bladder) as he constantly changed the direction England was pissing in. It felt...well, it felt fantastic. Even if it was confusing.
“W-what are you doing?” he gasped. His voice sounded embarrassingly breathless to his ears, but he couldn't bring himself to care much.
“Writing your name!” Russia chirped. “Only I just finished writing Arthur and Kirkland. Should I start Ivan Braginski now?”
England looked down. Russia had gone ahead and started spelling out his human name in Cyrillic into the dirt, И-в-а-н...There wasn't enough room to really write out strings of letters, and they didn't show up clearly as they would have if he had been pissing on snow, so Russia just shaped the letters one of top of the other, a stack of letters that just melted into a large puddle that was taking it's time soaking into the hard earth.
England just closed his eyes again and enjoyed the little thrills that ran up his spin as those rough, callused hands innocently teased at his cock. What a child Russia was. England would have considered childishness a flaw yesterday, but at that very moment it seemed like the highest virtue.
“I finished my name,” Russia said with a touch of pride. “Are you still not empty?”
“Not quite.” England nearly slipped and called him 'lad.' “There's still a good bit left.”
“Ah, then I should draw something else...what else? Oh, I know!”
The hands were moving again, and England peeked down at Russia's work. The giant had started drawing hearts in the dirt. England almost groaned. Names were one thing, but this was getting a little embarrassing. Russia seemed entirely unbothered, and continued drawing his happy little hearts until England finally dribbled to a stop.
“All done?” Russia asked.
“All done,” England confirmed. Well, now what? Russia's hands were still around his cock...
“I should shake you off now, da?” Russia said, and gave England's tool a firm shake. And then another. Three times, four times, five, six, seven, eight-
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” England growled, feeling himself beginning to harden.
“I want to make sure you are dry!” Russia insisted. “It would not do to make your underwear wet, da? At least not any more than it already is-”
“Fine, fine!” England snapped, cutting him off in embarrassment. “But I can tell you now, I'm plenty dry!”
“Oh? I suppose that you are.”
England swallowed. The attention had made him quite stiff, but now Russia seemed to be trying to tuck him back into his trousers.
“Wait, stop.”
“Stop? Why?”
“Don't give me that!” England looked over his shoulder to glare at Russia. “You've created this problem, now you damn well better fix it!”
Russia paused so long that England was almost starting to think that Russia really didn't get it until he squeezed England's erection slightly and said, “Ah, you mean this problem?”
“Yes, that problem.” It was a challenge to sound authoritative in this situation, but if anyone could pull it off, it was England. “Hop to it.”
Russia complied with gusto, stroking and rubbing and dragging those splendidly rough calluses on his palms and fingers up and down the tender flesh until it was nearly painful (but not painful enough for England to want it to stop. Oh bloody God and Queen and Empire, he hoped it never stopped.) He knew he was vocalizing his pleasure with more abandon than he would usually allow, but the earlier release had left his senses electrified and his inhibitions lowered; he honestly didn't care for once if anyone heard. The hard patch of skin below Russia's thumb suddenly ran right along the vein beneath England's cock, and with a great shudder he came, hard and shaking, into Russia's hand. Dizzy, he leaned back against the bulk behind him to catch his breath. Through the fog he felt Russia cleaning his shaft and balls with a handkerchief before finally tucking him away, careful to not catch anything in the zipper as he pulled up England's fly.
Tried and True [8/?]
anonymous
July 13 2010, 08:17:04 UTC
“Did you like that?” The question might have been condescending in a different tone, but Russia's voice was honestly nervous, needing and hoping for approval.
“I did,” England assured him. “More than I expected, to be honest.” He finally managed to regain his balance and shifted his weight into a more steady position, taking deep, satisfying breaths of fresh air. After a few moments he turned to Russia, only to be faced with the larger man's back. His shoulders were jerking, and for a confusing split second England thought he was crying before a much more logical answer presented itself. “Er, Russia,” he began awkwardly. “Do you, ah...need a hand there?”
“N-nyet,” came the breathy reply. “I- ah...I am a-almost done...very....mmmm....very close n-now...ah!” England saw his back stiffen and shudder and finally relax in relief, shoulders lifting and falling as he panted heavily in his post-orgasm.
“You ought to have let me take care of that for you,” England protested, oddly disappointed for a reason he couldn't quite name.
“Nyet,” Russia breathed. “Nyet, you are my guest. I will take good care of you, da? You should not worry about my needs.”
England frowned (and privately resolved to overstep his boundaries as a guest at some point in the near future,) but another part of him swelled up with pride. Russia had jerked himself off (and came rather fast too) because watching England had turned him on so much. After listening to ages of countries teasing him for his eyebrows and scowl and the embarrassing love handles that had grown on his hips ever since they started building those bloody McDonalds in London...it was nice to see that someone still found him attractive. And probably more than just merely attractive, since Russia had barely finished with England before he couldn't resist touching himself any longer...England could feel himself starting to grin like the Cheshire Cat at that thought, and quickly schooled his expression into something more neutral.
“Ah, England!” Russia suddenly cried, jerking England out of his thoughts. “How lucky! Look what I found!”
England looked back and found Russia, still a little pink faced, waving his house key in the air.
“And where exactly was that all this time?” England asked sharply.
“In my other pocket,” Russia explained, as if that was any kind of answer. “I forgot to look in that pocket. How fortunate that my key is not lost!”
'Bullocks to that,' England thought. Russia had either pretended to lose his key or he was completely daft. The former was infinitely more likely, by evidence of the naughty grin on the giant's face. Strangely, England found he didn't mind nearly as much as he would have earlier.
“Lucky indeed,” he laughed. “Now why don't you take me inside and fix me a cup of tea while you think of a new game for us to play?”
Russia's face lit up like a child at Christmas. “You still want to play? Most people leave after one game.”
“Well I certainly didn't come all the way out here for one half-baked game, now did I?” England said with a smile. “I admit, I'm curious now to see what else is up your sleeve. And the flood won't be letting up any time soon. May as well see if you can make me enjoy it.”
Re: Tried and True [8/?]
anonymous
July 13 2010, 10:58:01 UTC
Oh god, this isn't even my kink, but I'm weirdly in love with creepy-cute!Ivan's honest excitement and expressions. And Arthur's feeling of "fuck everything else, I'm still sexy" is awesome, too. McLovehandles f;dasjf Will finshing commenting when small children aren't searching for me. :'D
Re: Tried and True [8/?]
anonymous
July 13 2010, 13:28:54 UTC
Mmmm, authornon, I'm so glad you updated! I did not think it was my kink but it's so well-done that I think you may be wooing me over.
Usually Russia creeps me out in the bad way but I really like him here; he's got the creepy-edged innocent thing going on but not in a rapetrucky kind of way.
Well, to be fair, Russia had said that the shagging was only a possibility. He apparently had a few other things in mind beyond normal sex, and England was willing to indulge him. Never let it be said that England was too old and stuck in his ways to experiment, even if he was having a little difficulty wrapping his mind around the present 'experiment.'
The massive nation seemed to be in almost obnoxiously high spirits; he opened the passenger car door for England with a playful little bow, and was humming to himself (something that sounded suspiciously like the Tetris theme) as he climbed into the driver's side, started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
“Quite chipper today, aren't you?” England said after several loops of the hummed rendition of Tetris.
“Of course,” Russia said happily. “It is so difficult to find anyone to play with, you know. How lucky I am!”
“You shouldn't be too surprised about that,” England said quietly, glancing out the window when the utter weirdness of what was going on made his stomach flip-flop a few times. “I can't imagine there are too many people who are...ah, comfortable with...this....sort of thing.”
“I don't just mean that,” Russia said, a little sadly. “No one even wants to come over to have tea or play chess with me these days.”
Oh bugger. Just when England was starting to feel uncomfortable and wondering if he could still back out, Russia had to turn on that kicked puppy look. If he had resembled a boy playing hooky before, now he seemed like the child who is always left out on the playground. England felt his resistance crumble in an instant, and reached up to pat the taller man's head.
“Well, there's no need for you to worry about that now,” he said, in his most reassuring big brother voice. “I can never turn down a cup of tea, and I'm not too terrible at chess either, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh, but you aren't coming over just for tea and chess!” Russia reminded him with a huge grin. The kicked puppy now had a smile like a shark. “Of course I will offer you tea, and we can play chess while we wait for your bladder to fill back up again...speaking of which, how is it?”
England took a few seconds to recover from the mental whiplash before considering the question. He could feel a slight twinge already, and unless the rains in London were letting up far earlier than the weatherman had predicted on the news that morning, the twinge would turn into an aching need in no time at all.
“Noticeable, but not bad now,” he said honestly.
“I see. We still have a way to go before we get to my house. Will you be able to wait that long?”
“Depends on how long that is.”
“About half an hour now, I believe.”
England chewed at the inside of his lip, thinking back to how fast he had been filling up all day. “It might be a bit close there. Drive fast, will you?”
The car accelerated in reply. England leaned his head against the window and watched trees and farmland whiz by outside. The silence turned oppressively awkward in a hurry, and maybe even the socially challenged Russia had picked up on that, because he switched on the radio after a while. The car was filled with the sound of a man's voice.
“Listen!” Russia said, pointing to the radio. “He's talking about you.”
“I don't know Russian,” England replied, frowning at the speakers. “Mind translating for me?”
Reply
Intense was a nice word for it. Just mentioning it caused a urgent little wave to wash over England, and he quickly crossed his legs to ward it off.
“This June has been the rainiest one London has had in over a century, they're saying,” Russia cheerfully continued. “There is water standing in the streets all over.”
England squeezed his legs together a little tighter. Yes, he could feel it, all the way back home...
“And all the poor people are having to splash their way through it on their way to work. Underground places are having a lot of trouble, what with all that water filling everything up-”
England swallowed hard.
“No fatalities, that's lucky, but it's such a nuisance, they said, with all that water, water, water everywhere. The whole city is just dripping wet, completely soaked through-”
“You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?” England snapped, shifting his weight back and forth in the seat. Russia raised his eyebrows innocently, but England just rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, trying not to think too much about his soaking wet city. He had felt reasonably sure that he could get to Russia's house without an emergency stop, but after that bit of narration he was suddenly much less certain.
A few minutes later, he wasn't certain at all.
“I hate to say this, but I need you to stop for a minute,” England said tensely, struggling to not hold himself like a child in front of Russia.
“But we are almost home!” Russia protested. “Another ten minutes or so. Can't you wait that long?”
England felt his ears flare red. “N-no, I really can't. Could you pull over for a minute?”
“I have a better idea.” Russia reached over to the backseat of the car, keeping one hand on the wheel as he felt around for something. He swerved dangerous for a few seconds, and England was terribly glad there were no other cars around for miles, before he pulled out a small water bottle. “Here, you may use this.”
England gave the object a doubtful look. It was small, much too small. He couldn't even empty his bladder a third of the way with that thing. “I don't suppose you've got anything larger lying around?” he asked hopefully. “An empty vodka bottle, maybe?”
Russia looked as though England had just suggested that he eat a kitten. “I would never use a vodka bottle for that!” he declared passionately. “I have standards! You may use the water bottle, or you can hold it until we get home.”
England grumbled under his breath, but there was little choice now. At least the water bottle could let off some of the pressure, right? He took a deep breath, willed himself to not blush, unscrewed the top of the bottle and unzipped his fly. The car suddenly began to swerve dangerously again; Russia had taken his eyes off the road entirely and was just staring at England.
“What are you doing, you...you idiot!” England sputtered, clamping his legs together as the fear of driving straight off the road and into a tree made his bladder spasm. “Watch the road or pull over!”
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“You better stop soon,” Russia warned. “The bottle is nearly full.”
England bit down on his tongue and tried to cut off the flow. For a few frightening seconds, he couldn't stop. It just kept coming, and he was afraid he was going to spill right out of the bottle and soak the floor of Russia's car...but fortunately he dribbled to a stop before things could end in disaster. With trembling hands he rescrewed the top and zipped himself back up again. He was about to ask if he could empty the bottle outside and refill it once more, but Russia had already restarted the car and pulled back on to the road. England tried not the groan. That hadn't helped at all. If anything, it had made him even more desperate. The tiny bit he had been allowed to piss only teased his overfull bladder, and made the very tip of his cock throb urgently.
“It's very clear, isn't it?” Russia commented, picking the full water bottle up from the drink holder England had left it in and peering at it curiously. England was about to scold him for not watching the road again, but since he could see Russia trying to keep one eye on the road, he let it slide.
“Of course it's clear. I'm full of rainwater right now, aren't I?”
“Hm. And it's so warm too!”
“And why the hell does that surprise you?” England snapped, half in discomfort and half in embarrassment that Russia was staring at a bottle of his piss like it was some fascinating science experiment. “Yours is warm too.” At least he was relatively sure about that. You always heard weird stories about Russia, and if you believed half of them, the nation had ice cubes floating through his veins and pissed glacier runoff. The thought made England shiver.
“I suppose so,” Russia hummed thoughtfully. “But this is a very nice temperature. You must be nice and warm inside.”
Bloody Russia. Bloody creepy-cute Russia.
“Drive faster,” England grumbled, recrossing his legs.
Russia was thankfully obedient, and soon Russia's oversized, slightly rundown house came into view. England's bladder quivered eagerly, and he gave his cock a quick, discrete squeeze before hopping out after Russia pulled up the driveway. England got to the door first, and had to wait, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly, as Russia took his sweet time walking over.
“Oh dear.”
England felt his stomach drop at those words. He glanced back at Russia, who was patting his pockets worriedly.
“What's wrong now?” England moaned. He was in no mood for any more delays, and honestly, his bladder couldn't stand much more either.
Russia just gave him a sheepish look. “I am afraid I've lost my house key.”
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And god, all the little quirks you wrote in: the Tetris theme song and the sad puppy-dog look (Russia manages to gain even France's sympathy in canon with this kind of cute sadness!) that actually gets him a Mommy!England head-pat are glorious. As is Russia's "helpful" translation of the news! XD But this is just about the best thing I've ever read:
“I don't suppose you've got anything larger lying around?” he asked hopefully. “An empty vodka bottle, maybe?”
Russia looked as though England had just suggested that he eat a kitten. “I would never use a vodka bottle for that!” he declared passionately. “I have standards! You may use the water bottle, or you can hold it until we get home.” Also, it makes me think of Russia making awkward jokes about eating kittens, then sad-facing when others take it seriously. LOL
So damn awesome, anon. <3 I expected to enjoy this fill, but not this much. XDDD
And England pretty much says it all: Bloody Russia. Bloody creepy-cute Russia.
... I'm not entirely sure if Russia lost his keys on purpose, or if he just left them behind in the excitement of finding someone to "play" with. In all meanings of the word!
ReCAPTCHA is not as sentient as usual: "karaoke and" Somehow, I don't think karaoke is going to play a big part of this fill. ORZ
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Your characterizations are spot-on - Russia's got the childlike innocence that manages to be incredibly creepy, and England's long-suffering attitude is perfect. (I'm certain that Russia is doing ALL OF THIS on purpose, though. 8D)
Eagerly awaiting more!
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Also, the bit where Russia was talking about how wet England is was actually kinda hot, unf.
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Russia looked as though England had just suggested that he eat a kitten. “I would never use a vodka bottle for that!” he declared passionately. “I have standards! You may use the water bottle, or you can hold it until we get home.”
LOL, oh, Russia
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I'll eagerly be waiting for more, anon!
Captcha says: the rebuke. Oh, shut up, Captcha, I was prepared for corruption when I entered the kink meme and I regret nothing!
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It wouldn't be completely accurate to say that England blanched. That word didn't really do justice to the way every drop of blood drained out of his face.
“You must be joking.”
“Nyet, I am sorry,” Russia answered, still patting his pockets as if he expected the keys to suddenly appear.
It was at that very moment that England's bladder decided that it was quite fed up with being teased, thank you very much, and spasmed so suddenly and violently that England couldn't stop a tiny, warm dribble from leaking out and soaking into his underwear. His hands flew to his cock immediately, squeezing tightly to stop any further leaks, but he could tell he was fighting a losing battle.
“I might need to call a locksmith,” Russia mused to himself, seemingly unaware of England's predicament. “It may take half an hour or so.”
“Well I don't have half a bloody hour!” England snapped. He couldn't let go of himself now, not without flooding his pants. His face had gone red and turned a little redder every time the wet patch on his underwear rubbed against his cock.
“Oh! That is a problem, is it not? What shall we do with you?” It almost sounded like an innocent, honest question, but Russia's playful little grin gave it away.
If the situation had been different at all, England would have made a beeline for the nearest tree, bugger everyone else. But he was playing Russia's game now, by his own accord. He could stop playing and find a tree if he wanted, but...he didn't quite want to stop, no matter how uncomfortable he currently was. And there was a strange, needy thrum of pleasure building up behind the pain...
“Think you can find me somewhere to, er...go?” he asked awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. There, the ball was in Russia's court. Why did that thought make his cock twitch slightly?
“Hmm...” Russia hummed loudly, making a great show of pacing back and forth as he considered the question. England was almost convinced that Russia was just going to stand there, pretending to ponder until England pissed himself, but he finally said, “Ah ha! I have thought of something. Follow me, please.”
England followed at a slow, hunched pace as Russia trotted around the side of the house. He was suddenly terribly glad that Russia had no neighbors; his posture was exactly that of a child right on the brink of an accident. Russia had stopped near a neglected flower garden. There were a few scraggly sprouts, but mostly it was bare dirt.
“Please move your hands?” he asked, smiling sweetly.
“I-I'm not sure that I can,” England admitted, gulping when another wave of urgency passed over him.
“We will do this quickly, da?” Russia reassured him, giving him a little pat on the shoulder. “Just move your hands, and allow me to take care of the rest.”
England took a slow, deep breath, tensed every muscle he could and let his hands drop to his sides. The need spiked up to an almost unbearable level without his hands to hold himself, but Russia was already at work, unzipping England's fly and reaching in past his underwear to pull out his cock.
“Ah, we waited a little too long, da?” he giggled, and England flushed, knowing his must have noticed the wet spot. Finally he was freed from his trousers and Russia easily took him in hand, inching back until that he was standing behind England and reaching around to aim him. “There,” he whispered into England's ear. “Now you may-”
England's bladder was past the point of waiting for permission. Another huge rush of desperation gripped him, and this time it won, pushing past all his efforts to hold back. A huge spurt of piss gushed out of him, and another, and another until the pulsing waves had melded into a single powerful stream. It was good Russia was standing behind him; he might have fallen if he didn't have something to lean back against. The relief made his knees feel like jelly, and he didn't bother holding back a moan of pleasure at the feeling. His bladder was still painfully full, but he could feel the pressure slowly easing. He could hear a hiss and a wet splattering against soil and...and there was a strange feeling of Russia's hands moving over his cock.
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“W-what are you doing?” he gasped. His voice sounded embarrassingly breathless to his ears, but he couldn't bring himself to care much.
“Writing your name!” Russia chirped. “Only I just finished writing Arthur and Kirkland. Should I start Ivan Braginski now?”
England looked down. Russia had gone ahead and started spelling out his human name in Cyrillic into the dirt, И-в-а-н...There wasn't enough room to really write out strings of letters, and they didn't show up clearly as they would have if he had been pissing on snow, so Russia just shaped the letters one of top of the other, a stack of letters that just melted into a large puddle that was taking it's time soaking into the hard earth.
England just closed his eyes again and enjoyed the little thrills that ran up his spin as those rough, callused hands innocently teased at his cock. What a child Russia was. England would have considered childishness a flaw yesterday, but at that very moment it seemed like the highest virtue.
“I finished my name,” Russia said with a touch of pride. “Are you still not empty?”
“Not quite.” England nearly slipped and called him 'lad.' “There's still a good bit left.”
“Ah, then I should draw something else...what else? Oh, I know!”
The hands were moving again, and England peeked down at Russia's work. The giant had started drawing hearts in the dirt. England almost groaned. Names were one thing, but this was getting a little embarrassing. Russia seemed entirely unbothered, and continued drawing his happy little hearts until England finally dribbled to a stop.
“All done?” Russia asked.
“All done,” England confirmed. Well, now what? Russia's hands were still around his cock...
“I should shake you off now, da?” Russia said, and gave England's tool a firm shake. And then another. Three times, four times, five, six, seven, eight-
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” England growled, feeling himself beginning to harden.
“I want to make sure you are dry!” Russia insisted. “It would not do to make your underwear wet, da? At least not any more than it already is-”
“Fine, fine!” England snapped, cutting him off in embarrassment. “But I can tell you now, I'm plenty dry!”
“Oh? I suppose that you are.”
England swallowed. The attention had made him quite stiff, but now Russia seemed to be trying to tuck him back into his trousers.
“Wait, stop.”
“Stop? Why?”
“Don't give me that!” England looked over his shoulder to glare at Russia. “You've created this problem, now you damn well better fix it!”
Russia paused so long that England was almost starting to think that Russia really didn't get it until he squeezed England's erection slightly and said, “Ah, you mean this problem?”
“Yes, that problem.” It was a challenge to sound authoritative in this situation, but if anyone could pull it off, it was England. “Hop to it.”
Russia complied with gusto, stroking and rubbing and dragging those splendidly rough calluses on his palms and fingers up and down the tender flesh until it was nearly painful (but not painful enough for England to want it to stop. Oh bloody God and Queen and Empire, he hoped it never stopped.) He knew he was vocalizing his pleasure with more abandon than he would usually allow, but the earlier release had left his senses electrified and his inhibitions lowered; he honestly didn't care for once if anyone heard. The hard patch of skin below Russia's thumb suddenly ran right along the vein beneath England's cock, and with a great shudder he came, hard and shaking, into Russia's hand. Dizzy, he leaned back against the bulk behind him to catch his breath. Through the fog he felt Russia cleaning his shaft and balls with a handkerchief before finally tucking him away, careful to not catch anything in the zipper as he pulled up England's fly.
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“I did,” England assured him. “More than I expected, to be honest.” He finally managed to regain his balance and shifted his weight into a more steady position, taking deep, satisfying breaths of fresh air. After a few moments he turned to Russia, only to be faced with the larger man's back. His shoulders were jerking, and for a confusing split second England thought he was crying before a much more logical answer presented itself. “Er, Russia,” he began awkwardly. “Do you, ah...need a hand there?”
“N-nyet,” came the breathy reply. “I- ah...I am a-almost done...very....mmmm....very close n-now...ah!” England saw his back stiffen and shudder and finally relax in relief, shoulders lifting and falling as he panted heavily in his post-orgasm.
“You ought to have let me take care of that for you,” England protested, oddly disappointed for a reason he couldn't quite name.
“Nyet,” Russia breathed. “Nyet, you are my guest. I will take good care of you, da? You should not worry about my needs.”
England frowned (and privately resolved to overstep his boundaries as a guest at some point in the near future,) but another part of him swelled up with pride. Russia had jerked himself off (and came rather fast too) because watching England had turned him on so much. After listening to ages of countries teasing him for his eyebrows and scowl and the embarrassing love handles that had grown on his hips ever since they started building those bloody McDonalds in London...it was nice to see that someone still found him attractive. And probably more than just merely attractive, since Russia had barely finished with England before he couldn't resist touching himself any longer...England could feel himself starting to grin like the Cheshire Cat at that thought, and quickly schooled his expression into something more neutral.
“Ah, England!” Russia suddenly cried, jerking England out of his thoughts. “How lucky! Look what I found!”
England looked back and found Russia, still a little pink faced, waving his house key in the air.
“And where exactly was that all this time?” England asked sharply.
“In my other pocket,” Russia explained, as if that was any kind of answer. “I forgot to look in that pocket. How fortunate that my key is not lost!”
'Bullocks to that,' England thought. Russia had either pretended to lose his key or he was completely daft. The former was infinitely more likely, by evidence of the naughty grin on the giant's face. Strangely, England found he didn't mind nearly as much as he would have earlier.
“Lucky indeed,” he laughed. “Now why don't you take me inside and fix me a cup of tea while you think of a new game for us to play?”
Russia's face lit up like a child at Christmas. “You still want to play? Most people leave after one game.”
“Well I certainly didn't come all the way out here for one half-baked game, now did I?” England said with a smile. “I admit, I'm curious now to see what else is up your sleeve. And the flood won't be letting up any time soon. May as well see if you can make me enjoy it.”
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Usually Russia creeps me out in the bad way but I really like him here; he's got the creepy-edged innocent thing going on but not in a rapetrucky kind of way.
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