Re: [Russia/Canada] Meaningful [2/4]
anonymous
April 27 2010, 04:36:33 UTC
They had all the time in the world.
Canada let his hand descend over Russia’s side until he reached his belt, taking it off with ease, moving on to his pants. Russia hummed, and the sound, combined with of their sloppy kissing set the space behind his eyelids on fire. Russia’s hum turned to a full moan when Canada slipped his hands into his underwear, massaging him careful, but firmly.
Russia responded by clawing onto Canada’s back, one trembling hand sneaking between them to undo the Canadian’s belt as well with some effort, as the hand in his pants kept distracting him.
When they were finally naked enough to feel cold-induced shivers run over their backs, Russia pulled the comforter over them, nudging Canada towards the pillows to make him comfortable. Canada sighed softly, spreading his legs wider to accept Russia’s body between them.
Blindly, Russia’s hand reached to the nightstand, his lips and eyes never leaving Canada’s, and came back with a half-used tube of lube. Before he could even think about unscrewing the cap, and before Canada could even ponder the ideas going through his mind, he closed his legs over Russia’s hips and used it as leverage to roll them over.
Russia landed on his back with a wheeze that sounded like a laugh, and looked up at him with an amused look in his eyes. Canada stared back, smiling dumbly and excitedly, a sudden rush of adrenaline surging through his veins. He leaned down, hovered over Russia, and caught his lower lip between his teeth, pulling without biting. One of Russia’s hands found its way to his hair, the other to his crotch. Canada gasped and moaned and laughed and kissed, and had he been a man he would’ve been the happiest of them all.
He took the lubricant from Russia’s hands and poured some in his palm; thick, cold gel turning warm in an instant. And as he rubbed it onto their erections he had to toss his head back, leave his mouth hanging soundless for a moment or two, and rock their bodies together, because, fuck, it felt good.
Russia rose a little, propped up on one elbow, and Canada could see the deep, red flush over his cheeks even in the dark, and the thin, almost imperceptible layer of sweat covering his torso. With much self-persuasion, Canada unfocused from rubbing their slick erections together to take off his undershirt, so he could lean down, press his unclothed chest to Russia’s, feel his erect nipples against his skin. Russia shivered with the contact and arched forward, fingers gripping Canada’s thigh instinctively. His elbow almost buckled, Canada almost lost his balance, but the world was multicolored and bright, and the comforter felt too hot over their bodies.
Re: [Russia/Canada] Meaningful [2/4]
anonymous
April 27 2010, 04:37:10 UTC
Recovering slightly, Russia shifted back, bracing himself against the pillows and them against the headboard, pulling Canada fully onto his lap. He pushed Canada’s sweaty fringe away from his eyes and smiled. Multicolored and bright and warm; the world was his, tonight. Canada held Russia in his arms and kissed him, and he could feel all eleven, no, nine different time zones, pulsing under his fingertips.
Russia pulled back, licking his lips, savoring. His eyes shone, and there was no tension on his shoulders. Recent terrorist attacks and financial problems being slowly obliterated from his mind. Canada closed his eyes and kissed him again. This Russia was his; this moment and this night. Next time it would be different, there would be other problems in their minds and other bruises on their bodies. Canada kissed him harder, pushing him until Russia’s head touched the headboard. Russia caressed his cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs, hips rocking slowly.
Canada followed the motion, disentangling his lips from Russia’s so he could breathe better, harder. Russia fumbled for the lube around them, squeezing some in his palm when he found it.
Next thing Canada felt was pleasantly cool, slick finger prodding his rear. His mouth closed around Russia’s jaw; teeth and lips and damp breath, his face contorting in a wince. Carefully, Russia dipped inside. Canada gasped.
Once accustomed, it was easier to relax and let himself be prodded. He trusted Russia, maybe not with his government secrets, and definitely not with the Arctic’s sovereignty, but enough to let him see the scar on his left shoulder where a bullet lacerated his skin, inches from the bone, during the Second World War. Enough to let him touch the hypersensitive spot over his seventh rib, where America had bayoneted him during the War of 1812, after he had taken a couple of his teeth off.
Hands on his hips guided him up and forward, and gently he lowered himself inch by inch onto Russia’s erection, feeling his pulse throb through his entire being. Russia threw his head back against the headboard, and Canada could see the muscles on his throat contracting.
His thin lips were bright red, and Canada felt like kissing him again, but didn’t. He wanted to watch; to see his Adam’s apple bob with difficulty, his fingers to twitch over the skin of his hips. He moved, just a little, and Russia whispered his name.
Canada smiled, and gave in. He moved again, and Russia’s next whisper echoed inside his mouth.
They didn’t take long to pick a rhythm - slow enough to tease; fast enough to be mind-blowing. Russia closed a hand over Canada’s erection and worked on a similar pattern, only making sure to be extra attentive with the head; rubbing and pinching and making Canada’s eyes roll in its sockets.
Re: [Russia/Canada] Meaningful [4/4]
anonymous
April 27 2010, 04:40:18 UTC
At one particular thrust Canada moaned loud enough for the whole building to hear. He put a hand over his mouth in alarm and looked apologetically to Russia, feeling some of the blood pooled around his groin shoot straight to his face. Russia merely laughed, and brought Canada’s hand to his lips. He tried to find the same angle again, but this time Canada was too self-conscious.
Russia used the hand in his grasp to pull Canada back into his arms, burying his nose on the curve of his neck. Canada could feel his lazy grin against his skin, and it must’ve been something contagious, because in second he felt it on his lips too.
Hot and tight and smooth. The world could end and he wouldn’t even notice. Russia closed his other arm around him, and Canada sighed heavily; happily.
They didn’t orgasm at the same time, or exchanged love vows. Russia came with a muffled grunt that sounded like a cry, and Canada shivered hard with the extra moisture inside him. Russia pressed his forehead against his collarbone and just breathed for a moment, before his trembling finger closed again around Canada’s member and brought him over as well. Sloppier and messier than they were used to, much like their first time had been, many years ago.
They stood there, collecting their breaths and thoughts, until the room started to became too cold to bear.
Russia nudged Canada’s cheek with his nose, “I missed you.”
Canada, in turn, embraced him, collecting his big form in his arms. This meant something; all of this. The kisses, the touches, the words. They meant more to him than anything else.
To be missed, and held, and loved. It meant the world to him.
“I love you,” he said. And that meant something too.
I absolutely adore Russanada, and this fic just brought that home again.
The pace and the description was just excellent. You could tell they moved together like practised lovers do. The hints of something more, of things unsaid, made me wish there were more than just four parts.
Re: [Russia/Canada] Meaningful [4/4]
anonymous
July 24 2010, 23:21:11 UTC
This is such a great fill for this pairing. I think it hits exactly the right tone, to where it's sweet and loving, without being trite or saccharine. I love how everything is so understated, conveying a definite feeling and atmosphere without being too obvious about it.
Just, all around, hot, sweet, and charming. Thanks, anon!
Canada let his hand descend over Russia’s side until he reached his belt, taking it off with ease, moving on to his pants. Russia hummed, and the sound, combined with of their sloppy kissing set the space behind his eyelids on fire. Russia’s hum turned to a full moan when Canada slipped his hands into his underwear, massaging him careful, but firmly.
Russia responded by clawing onto Canada’s back, one trembling hand sneaking between them to undo the Canadian’s belt as well with some effort, as the hand in his pants kept distracting him.
When they were finally naked enough to feel cold-induced shivers run over their backs, Russia pulled the comforter over them, nudging Canada towards the pillows to make him comfortable. Canada sighed softly, spreading his legs wider to accept Russia’s body between them.
Blindly, Russia’s hand reached to the nightstand, his lips and eyes never leaving Canada’s, and came back with a half-used tube of lube. Before he could even think about unscrewing the cap, and before Canada could even ponder the ideas going through his mind, he closed his legs over Russia’s hips and used it as leverage to roll them over.
Russia landed on his back with a wheeze that sounded like a laugh, and looked up at him with an amused look in his eyes. Canada stared back, smiling dumbly and excitedly, a sudden rush of adrenaline surging through his veins. He leaned down, hovered over Russia, and caught his lower lip between his teeth, pulling without biting.
One of Russia’s hands found its way to his hair, the other to his crotch. Canada gasped and moaned and laughed and kissed, and had he been a man he would’ve been the happiest of them all.
He took the lubricant from Russia’s hands and poured some in his palm; thick, cold gel turning warm in an instant. And as he rubbed it onto their erections he had to toss his head back, leave his mouth hanging soundless for a moment or two, and rock their bodies together, because, fuck, it felt good.
Russia rose a little, propped up on one elbow, and Canada could see the deep, red flush over his cheeks even in the dark, and the thin, almost imperceptible layer of sweat covering his torso. With much self-persuasion, Canada unfocused from rubbing their slick erections together to take off his undershirt, so he could lean down, press his unclothed chest to Russia’s, feel his erect nipples against his skin. Russia shivered with the contact and arched forward, fingers gripping Canada’s thigh instinctively. His elbow almost buckled, Canada almost lost his balance, but the world was multicolored and bright, and the comforter felt too hot over their bodies.
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Russia pulled back, licking his lips, savoring. His eyes shone, and there was no tension on his shoulders. Recent terrorist attacks and financial problems being slowly obliterated from his mind. Canada closed his eyes and kissed him again. This Russia was his; this moment and this night. Next time it would be different, there would be other problems in their minds and other bruises on their bodies. Canada kissed him harder, pushing him until Russia’s head touched the headboard. Russia caressed his cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs, hips rocking slowly.
Canada followed the motion, disentangling his lips from Russia’s so he could breathe better, harder. Russia fumbled for the lube around them, squeezing some in his palm when he found it.
Next thing Canada felt was pleasantly cool, slick finger prodding his rear. His mouth closed around Russia’s jaw; teeth and lips and damp breath, his face contorting in a wince. Carefully, Russia dipped inside. Canada gasped.
Once accustomed, it was easier to relax and let himself be prodded. He trusted Russia, maybe not with his government secrets, and definitely not with the Arctic’s sovereignty, but enough to let him see the scar on his left shoulder where a bullet lacerated his skin, inches from the bone, during the Second World War. Enough to let him touch the hypersensitive spot over his seventh rib, where America had bayoneted him during the War of 1812, after he had taken a couple of his teeth off.
Hands on his hips guided him up and forward, and gently he lowered himself inch by inch onto Russia’s erection, feeling his pulse throb through his entire being. Russia threw his head back against the headboard, and Canada could see the muscles on his throat contracting.
His thin lips were bright red, and Canada felt like kissing him again, but didn’t. He wanted to watch; to see his Adam’s apple bob with difficulty, his fingers to twitch over the skin of his hips. He moved, just a little, and Russia whispered his name.
Canada smiled, and gave in. He moved again, and Russia’s next whisper echoed inside his mouth.
They didn’t take long to pick a rhythm - slow enough to tease; fast enough to be mind-blowing. Russia closed a hand over Canada’s erection and worked on a similar pattern, only making sure to be extra attentive with the head; rubbing and pinching and making Canada’s eyes roll in its sockets.
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Russia used the hand in his grasp to pull Canada back into his arms, burying his nose on the curve of his neck. Canada could feel his lazy grin against his skin, and it must’ve been something contagious, because in second he felt it on his lips too.
Hot and tight and smooth. The world could end and he wouldn’t even notice. Russia closed his other arm around him, and Canada sighed heavily; happily.
They didn’t orgasm at the same time, or exchanged love vows. Russia came with a muffled grunt that sounded like a cry, and Canada shivered hard with the extra moisture inside him. Russia pressed his forehead against his collarbone and just breathed for a moment, before his trembling finger closed again around Canada’s member and brought him over as well. Sloppier and messier than they were used to, much like their first time had been, many years ago.
They stood there, collecting their breaths and thoughts, until the room started to became too cold to bear.
Russia nudged Canada’s cheek with his nose, “I missed you.”
Canada, in turn, embraced him, collecting his big form in his arms. This meant something; all of this. The kisses, the touches, the words. They meant more to him than anything else.
To be missed, and held, and loved. It meant the world to him.
“I love you,” he said. And that meant something too.
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The other day President Medvedev took two time zones from Russia (http://www(.)reuters(.)com(/)article(/)idUSTRE62R0DS20100328)
Oh, and, yeah, I did forget to change the number on part 3. Sorry!
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This fic was so sweet and so sexy at the same time.
Much love~ <3
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This was "hot" anon. Thank you!
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The pace and the description was just excellent. You could tell they moved together like practised lovers do. The hints of something more, of things unsaid, made me wish there were more than just four parts.
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Just, all around, hot, sweet, and charming. Thanks, anon!
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