Russia sleep with Canada as a way of getting at America during the Cold War. Either by doing it someplace he knows America will see, or making sure America marks him leaving a meeting to Canada's room.
Canada knows he's being used but goes along with it anyway to quell his loneliness for a brief few hours.
Bonuses: - These continue throughout the CW and Russia ends up feeling genuine affection for Canada
---
In a perfect world, Canada's lover would be a gentle, kind soul who made love to Canada on satin sheets amidst rose petals. He had experienced that sort of relationship once during a brief fling with France, and had acquired a taste for it. But France was never available anymore, and Canada was not the sort to break up relationships, or whatever it was the other nation had. Hell, everyone seemed to be paired up, in these decades after the second World War.
Including Canada. Even if it wasn't perfect. Because even if there were no satin sheets or rose petals, no kindness or gentleness or love, at least he got to feel the touch of another nation for a short time.
It had started a few months ago. Canada had run into Russia. And Russia-sanity already cracked from so many years of turmoil, made only worse during the Cold War-had assumed he was America and tried to attack him. Canada couldn't even remember how he had convinced him otherwise in his terror, but he had managed. And Russia had been struck by another idea. He could hit America where it hurt-his family, his closest ally...
---
“America would be emotionally crushed if we slept together,” Russia mused. “We would have to do it often enough to arouse suspicion. And I could leave marks on you... What do you say? Surely you must want to see your obnoxious brother taken down a peg or two.”
Canada stared at the other nation in horror. Aid Russia? Purposely try and hurt his brother? The idea was absurd. And to be used in such a manner! Canada highly doubted Russia would be a gentle lover in that particular scenario. Did he want to be hurt to hurt somebody he cared about? The fact that he was even musing about it and not saying no right away made him think maybe some of America's and Russia's insanity was rubbing off on him.
“Yes,” Canada said. His mind cringed away in horror as his lips formed that one fatal syllable. But... how long had it been since he had slept with anybody? He was lucky to even be noticed. And really, even if that was the intent, it was America's own fault if he was that upset over whom his adult, independent nation brother slept with.
So they got a hotel room that very night. It wasn't even necessary-America was nowhere nearby to catch them in the act or notice marks on Canada the next day-but Russia wanted it to seem realistic. If America did some digging after he found out, Russia wanted him to discover that the affair did indeed start well before then.
The last time Canada had had sex was immediately after the war ended, with Netherlands. So grateful for the wartime aid, he had spent ages just worshiping Canada's body. By the time they even got to the sex, Canada was already floating on a cloud of ecstasy. The time before that was France, who was the world's greatest lover for a reason, doing things to Canada he never would have dreamed possible.
Never before had Canada been clinically stripped of clothing and tossed onto a bed. He picked himself up, unconsciously trying to cover his nakedness, and watched as Russia disrobed. To his surprise, the large nation was already hard! Most likely from thinking about America's reaction. Canada himself wasn't even halfway there, even as he looked at the large cock that would soon be taking him. Actually, that thought seemed to soften him further.
A Perfect World 1b/?
anonymous
February 6 2011, 20:36:22 UTC
There was no foreplay. There was only lube because Canada insisted, fingering himself while Russia waited. He hadn't even stretched himself to his own comfort level before Russia pushed him over, onto his hands and knees. Canada gripped the headboard, bracing himself. Big hands grabbed his hips, and Russia's cock pressed into him. Canada bit back a pained cry, hands clenching tighter. He waited for Russia to pause and let his body adjust to the intrusion, but it never happened. He grit his teeth, body rocking back and forth as Russia thrust into him. Thrusts which grew faster and harder, bringing tears to Canada's eyes. And then, it was over. Sticky warmth filled Canada as Russia came with a grunt, then pulled out. He could feel the semen dripping out of him and down his legs.
Russia pulled his clothes back on and left. Canada hadn't even orgasmed, and was midly surprised to discover that he was hard. But he wasn't in the mood to get himself off, so Canada ignored it and fell asleep on the semen-stained sheets.
In the morning, Russia returned. Canada wasn't sure why it would benefit their plan for him to fuck Canada and leave, then return to do it again. He sat up in the bed, and the pain from the previous night was intense. Canada didn't even want to walk; the thought of sex again was dreadful.
But he said yes anyway, and they did it again. Canada was shoved onto his back for that round, legs spread like a whore. It hurt so bad he was sobbing all throughout, but Russia didn't seem to mind. Maybe he was pretending it was America.
Canada didn't come that time, either. It was three more liaisons before Canada started getting himself off after Russia left, and two more after that that he came during sex. Russia didn't acknowledge the change.
---
Canada shook off the memories. They had been fucking for months now, whenever they could, making sure they were seen slinking off together should America conduct an investigation. And he knew that America was in the area, so maybe now he would finally discover what was going on. Maybe Russia would mark Canada, as he had considered doing before. That would mean his lips on Canada's body, something that had yet to happen. The thought sent a little thrill through Canada, toward his groin.
And maybe America's presence would upset Russia. Maybe he would take his anger out on Canada, pretending it was his hated rival. Canada did not want to be hurt, but it would be nice to see some emotion in his partner. Even if it was hatred directed at someone else.
Sure enough, when the hotel door slammed open, Russia was in a foul mood. His unsteady gate suggested too much to drink.
The hungry way he eyed Canada, waiting naked on the bed for him, was as thrilling as it was frightening.
No, it wasn't a perfect world. But it was the best world Canada could find, so he was going to hang onto it.
A Perfect World 2a/?
anonymous
February 14 2011, 03:44:19 UTC
Russia stalked closer, expression growing angry, though Canada knew it was at his appearance and nothing personal. Russia and America must have gotten into a fight. The large nation wordlessly tugged his coat open as he approached, and Canada spread his legs in silent consent.
God. What had happened to him? To be satisfied with being used so-used to hurt his brother. Used in place of his brother for Russia to take out his aggression. Was this a life for someone who wanted love?
He should say no tonight. Russia couldn't be angry about that. Then they could pick up where they left off once the anger and drink had faded.
But... part of Canada still wanted this. He wanted more than what they had, more than emotionless quick fucks. At least for tonight, Canada could get something from Russia, emotion and touches. So he remained still, legs open while his knees trembled with the desire to snap shut.
Russia did not undress further, presumably only intending to free his cock when he needed it. He paused for a moment, looking down at Canada, taking the scene in. And Canada knew what was going on, of course. Russia was picturing his brother again. Picturing America as the one sprawled on the bed in such a humiliating pose. A tiny voice sprang up in the back of Canada's head suggesting the love Russia would shower upon him were he to actually deliver America to his enemy in such a fashion. Canada squashed it, burning with shame that he could even briefly entertain such a thought.
Mistaking Canada's shamed blush as a result of his position, Russia chuckled. He reached down, fisting a hand in Canada's hair and drawing him up. Canada winced, but made no protest. And then... then Russia leaned closer, and pressed his mouth to the smaller nation's throat. A loud gasp escaped from Canada, his eyes flying open wide. He had thought that Russia might do this, with America nearby, but it was still a shock. They never touched more than necessary. They never did anything but fuck, no foreplay or anything. His mouth was hot and wet against Canada's skin, sucking, biting. When he finished with that spot, he moved to another, making sure to thoroughly mark his territory.
Once satisfied, Russia flung Canada back onto the bed. Canada lay back, spreading his legs again, hips tilted up. He figured, the more humiliating his position, the more Russia would get off on it, the more emotion he would show. Canada even tried to adopt an expression more suitable for his brother than himself, in an attempt to help the illusion along, anger him further. Any passion was better than none.
Russia gave him a look that was almost questioning, maybe a tiny bit confused. After all, he knew who it really was on the bed.
Canada gave him an encouraging nod. Oh god, Do what you want. Pretend I'm him. Or imagine his reaction, whatever. “Please, I need more.”
A smirk tugs at Russia's lips, and he lowered himself roughly atop the shivering, nude nation. The sudden weight pressed on top of him drove the wind from his lungs, the fabric of Russia's clothes rough against sensitive skin. Russia lowered his head to Canada's chest, and Canada wondered dumbly if he was going to-oh god...
Canada's mind exploded as Russia's hot, wet mouth closed over one of his nipples. Pleasure jolted through him, even from such a simple act. It was akin to the feeling he'd get when a lover took his cock into their mouth, in a normal relationship. Canada arched back with a loud gasp, rubbing against him in spite of the painful friction. Then Russia bit, and a cry of pain escaped from Canada's throat. Russia moved on to the other nipple, toying with it between his teeth before biting down, eliciting another pained yell.
A Perfect World 2b/?
anonymous
February 14 2011, 03:45:48 UTC
Russia straightened out, pressing down, grinding against Canada. He whined as rough fabric and buttons rubbed harshly against his cock. Despite the pain, Canada wrapped his legs around Russia and met his thrusts, arching up into him.
“Down,” Russia said, as if commanding a dog. Canada unwrapped his limbs from the larger nation and lay flat, watching with heated eyes as Russia unfastened his pants and freed himself. He coated his cock in lubricant from a convenient tube nearby, then pressed Canada's legs back, not bothering to stretch him. Canada didn't care. He was mildly surprised there was even lube. Canada arched back with another wild yell when he was impaled, when Russia fully embedded himself with one fluid motion, stretching him wide abruptly. And as usual, Canada was given no time to relax or adjust before he was being thrust into. It was as if Russia was on a mission to actually shove Canada through the bed with every hard thrust, and they only grew rougher every time Russia plunged back into him. Canada wrapped his legs back around Russia, body rocking violently with each thrust.
The only sounds were their breathing, Canada's whimpers of pain and pleasure, and Russia's occasional grunts that could have been sounds of pleasure. The sound of flesh on flesh as the larger nation pounded into him. The intense desire for Russia to lean over and kiss him faded over time, as their bodies rocked together desperately with raw animal lust. Canada growled and cried out every time his prostate was hit, as his cock was rubbed raw against Russia's rapidly moving body. Then, even after the desire for it had faded with his lust, Canada realized he was being kissed. Russia had captured his lips, thrust his tongue deep into his mouth. And when Russia bit down on Canada's tongue, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, Canada came hard. He gave a keening cry, blood dribbling down his chin, body tense. Russia did not let up, continuing to thrust at a brutal pace even as Canada trembled in the throes of orgasm.
When it passed, when the last tingle faded and the last drop of semen had dribbled out, Canada just wanted to stop and flop over and catch his breath. He whined when Russia did not relent, still ramming into him, still hitting the sensitive spot inside him, body still rubbing against his sensitive skin. “No more...”
Russia smirked. As if he was going to stop when he was probably so close. But to Canada's surprise, he did. He pulled out, cock still hard and throbbing desperately. He shifted away. Canada blinked up at him in surprise, not realizing what was going on until Russia came, cock twitching in the large hand that had given it the last few strokes it needed. Semen streamed onto Canada's face, onto his glasses, into his mouth. Russia continued to stroke until every drop had fallen onto Canada's face, then stood, bed shifting as his weight left it.
Canada removed his soiled glasses to watch as Russia adjusted himself, fastened his pants. Apparently unconcerned about Canada's seed all over him, he turned and left the room without a word. Canada was left alone to clean up and struggle not to cry over how low he had sunk.
It wasn't long later that Canada left as well. And that was when he found him. Shirt loose and unbuttoned so as not to chafe his damaged nipples, limping from the assault inside him, neck covered in bite marks, Canada ran into America.
Re: A Perfect World 2b/?
anonymous
February 14 2011, 04:12:51 UTC
This is so painful to read, and so captivating at the same time.
It absolutely breaks my heart to read, essentially, Canada being brutally raped and I feel almost sorry for him because he is consenting, only for the sake of human contact, but... The way you write is downright amazing. The way Canada sees it almost makes it two men fucking, rather than it being violent and painful rape. It hurts and it's beautiful.
A Perfect World 3a/?
anonymous
March 2 2011, 22:28:58 UTC
“Man.” A smirk tugged at America's lips. “Some cowboy rode it hard tonight! That's my Frenchy brother.”
Canada just couldn't bring himself to smile and agree, even if that would make everything a thousand times easier (and piss Russia off, which may or may not be a good idea). He just stared at the obnoxiously patterned carpet in weary shame. Even avoiding eye contact, he could still see America's expression fall. As worry replaced amusement, Canada felt the first stab of guilt.
“Ah geez, I'm sorry. I just thought that... But what happened? Did... wait...” America's fingers tilted Canada's chin up. “This wouldn't have anything to do with Russia, would it?”
Canada swallowed, eyes widening.
“He hurried past not long ago,” America said, his own eyes narrowing.
There it was. The whole reason they had started their affair months ago. Canada just wanted to sink into the floor and die at the horrified, heartbroken expression on his twin's face. “I...”
“Oh god.” America abruptly enveloped Canada in a tight hug, irritating the damage Russia had done to his body and intensifying the knife of guilt in his chest. Don't cry, Canada thought as he hung limply in his brother's arms. If you cry, America, I might just kill myself.
“I'll kill him,” America said hoarsely as he pulled away. Sure enough, his eyes shone with unshed tears, and the knife twisted a little more. His intensity was startling; sometimes Canada forgot that Russia wasn't the only one changed in recent years, wasn't the only one whose sanity had started to crack. America was still the same dork who laughingly announced ridiculous suggestions to everyone's annoyance at peacetime or war meetings, but with Russia involved, as well as his family... “I'll kill him... I'm going to nuke him back to the st-no, there won't be enough left for there to be a stone age. I don't care if he retaliates, I'll-”
“Stop!” Canada backed away, shaking his head. “This was consensual!” He didn't want Russia or America to be genuinely hurt! He didn't want actual war to come from this.
America slowly blinked, staring at Canada in bafflement. “What?”
“You assumed he raped me, right? He didn't, it was consensual.”
“You...”
“We've been sleeping together for months.” Canada bit his lip. Well, there it was. He squirmed as the color drained from America's face. He really, truly did not want to hurt his brother (that annoying voice in the back of his head reminded him of his lust-spawned desire to deliver America to his enemy in exchange for a little affection). But that was the point, wasn't it? That was the goal. Maybe not Canada's personal goal, but it was part of the package deal.
“No,” America said, shaking his head for emphasis. “You wouldn't. He coerced you, right?”
“He didn't,” Canada said. “He asked and I said yes.”
“Magic?”
“You don't believe in magic.”
“You really...” America swallowed. “You really wanted to?”
Canada nodded. “Nobody else would. I haven't had a lover in years.”
“But... how could you?” The horror had been replaced by betrayal. Canada wished the twisting knife in his heart would finish him off already. “With him!”
“I told you. Nobody else would,” Canada mumbled. “I'm not siding with him, if that's what you're worried about. We're just fucking.”
“How could you!”
Canada's gaze returned to the carpet. “It's just sex,” he said again.
“With him!” Canada could see his brother's body tense. “With... Are you that ignorant?”
Ignorant? Canada frowned, meeting America's eyes again. “No. I can fuck who I want.”
“A communist!”
“Does everything have to be politics?” Even as Canada lied through his teeth, even as his heart was torn by the terror his brother was feeling for him, Canada couldn't help but start to feel a little annoyed. “He's a warm body with a nice ass and a nice cock who welcomes me to his bed.”
“We're nations! Of course everything has to be politics! What were you thinking?”
The annoyance grew. “That I'm a grown nation and can do what I want.”
America shook his head again, and Canada tried to ignore the fact that he looked more worried than angry. “You can't. Not with him.”
A Perfect World 3b/?
anonymous
March 2 2011, 22:30:18 UTC
“I can so,” Canada said, pretending he didn't sound like a rebellious child.
“Canada, please...”
Canada slumped, resolve cracking. What was there for him to be angry about? This was the point. America was supposed to become upset.
“I forbid you.”
“What?” Canada blinked. He couldn't have heard that right.
“You heard me. You can't sleep with Russia anymore.” America was trying desperately to make it sound more like a command than a plea.
Canada could only stare at him. “You... forbid?” He shook his head. The pain of the knife fell away.
“I... Canada, just-”
“You can't tell me what to do!”
“I can when it comes to something like this!”
“I'm not your fucking colony!” Ignoring the pains in his body, Canada fled past America, his emotions a jumble of shame and rage. His feet led him in the direction of Russia's hotel room without even consulting with his brain. The fact that he knew America would follow him just added to the determination when he hesitated at the door.
They had each other's keys. Canada let himself in.
Russia was sitting on the bed, bare-chested, wearing only his pants and boots. He gave Canada a startled look as the door slammed shut. “Yes?”
“America.” Canada took a deep breath. “I ran into America. He knows about us.”
“Ah.” His lips curled into a smile. “Was he suitably horrified?”
“I'll say. He threatened to nuke you into nothing regardless of the consequences, until I assured him it wasn't rape.” Canada's eyes slid shut. “Then he told me to stop sleeping with you. Commanded me.”
“Did he, now? What did you say?”
“That he can't tell me what to do.” Canada settled onto his knees in front of Russia, reaching out to unbutton his pants. Russia shifted, smile widening as he watched the young nation furiously open his pants and pull his cock out. It was already growing hard again, and Canada leaned in to give it a lick from root to tip, feeling it stiffen and grow in his hands. What were you thinking? America's voice said in his head. I forbid you. It made his face burn. And it didn't help at all that America was right about Russia's reasons for sleeping with Canada, was right to be concerned. Was right about everything. Canada was the true villain in the scenario, what right did he have to be pissed?
But he didn't stop. Canada sucked Russia's cockhead into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Above him, Russia groaned, and Canada couldn't help but feel pleased. This was much different than just being fucked by the other nation. He was pleasuring him, like a lover would. He took Russia in deeper, into his throat. Then drew back again, suckling gently as he went.
“None of that,” Russia grunted, gripping Canada by the hair. “Hard.”
Oh well. Canada swallowed Russia down again, sucking hard. Why, his brain asked, was it okay when Russia told him what to do, but not his poor worried brother? Canada squashed the thought, focusing on bobbing his head along Russia cock, working him with intense suckling that made his jaw and throat sore.
It didn't particularly surprise him when he heard the door open; he didn't even wonder how his brother had opened the locked door. Canada didn't stop, even as he felt America's presence, felt his eyes on him as he knelt there, Russia's cock in his mouth. Russia, for his part, gave a thrust of his hips, startling Canada and making him want to gag.
There was only silence behind him, until finally, America's presence was gone and the door slammed shut.
“That was good...” Russia murmured. “So good.” He continued on in his own language, fingers tightening in Canada's hair, holding his head immobile. Russia started thrusting with abandon, just as harshly as he normally did. Canada's eyes widened as his mouth and throat were abused by the strong thrusts of the large cock, as it threatened to choke him. He whimpered in pain and gagged, but did not wish for Russia to stop. Russia was happy with him. Russia was taking him roughly now because he wanted him.
As semen slipped down Canada's bruised throat, tears spilled from his eyes, and he told himself that of course they were from happiness.
Re: A Perfect World 3b/?
anonymous
March 3 2011, 00:39:46 UTC
Holy shit anon, this is amazing!! It's so hot! The emotions in it, too, just... dgkhjfjf.
I wish I could give you a better review to express just how much I love this, but I'm tired and using this to relax from school. orz Just know that this is awesome and amazing and I stalk like this like there's no tomorrow.
Re: A Perfect World 3b/?
anonymous
March 3 2011, 11:04:10 UTC
I'm so happy to see an update. Yet this anon is finding out that she seems to enjoy poor abused Canada way more than she first thought. I'm feeling so anti-patriotic right now but I don't care!
Still, oh dear, I also feel sad for America he probably feels betrayed quite a lot right now. Or surrounded by communism or something. Hopefully he won't do anything drastic to retaliate.
Because I am a horrible person to poor Mattie.
Russia sleep with Canada as a way of getting at America during the Cold War. Either by doing it someplace he knows America will see, or making sure America marks him leaving a meeting to Canada's room.
Canada knows he's being used but goes along with it anyway to quell his loneliness for a brief few hours.
Bonuses:
- These continue throughout the CW and Russia ends up feeling genuine affection for Canada
---
In a perfect world, Canada's lover would be a gentle, kind soul who made love to Canada on satin sheets amidst rose petals. He had experienced that sort of relationship once during a brief fling with France, and had acquired a taste for it. But France was never available anymore, and Canada was not the sort to break up relationships, or whatever it was the other nation had. Hell, everyone seemed to be paired up, in these decades after the second World War.
Including Canada. Even if it wasn't perfect. Because even if there were no satin sheets or rose petals, no kindness or gentleness or love, at least he got to feel the touch of another nation for a short time.
It had started a few months ago. Canada had run into Russia. And Russia-sanity already cracked from so many years of turmoil, made only worse during the Cold War-had assumed he was America and tried to attack him. Canada couldn't even remember how he had convinced him otherwise in his terror, but he had managed. And Russia had been struck by another idea. He could hit America where it hurt-his family, his closest ally...
---
“America would be emotionally crushed if we slept together,” Russia mused. “We would have to do it often enough to arouse suspicion. And I could leave marks on you... What do you say? Surely you must want to see your obnoxious brother taken down a peg or two.”
Canada stared at the other nation in horror. Aid Russia? Purposely try and hurt his brother? The idea was absurd. And to be used in such a manner! Canada highly doubted Russia would be a gentle lover in that particular scenario. Did he want to be hurt to hurt somebody he cared about? The fact that he was even musing about it and not saying no right away made him think maybe some of America's and Russia's insanity was rubbing off on him.
“Yes,” Canada said. His mind cringed away in horror as his lips formed that one fatal syllable. But... how long had it been since he had slept with anybody? He was lucky to even be noticed. And really, even if that was the intent, it was America's own fault if he was that upset over whom his adult, independent nation brother slept with.
So they got a hotel room that very night. It wasn't even necessary-America was nowhere nearby to catch them in the act or notice marks on Canada the next day-but Russia wanted it to seem realistic. If America did some digging after he found out, Russia wanted him to discover that the affair did indeed start well before then.
The last time Canada had had sex was immediately after the war ended, with Netherlands. So grateful for the wartime aid, he had spent ages just worshiping Canada's body. By the time they even got to the sex, Canada was already floating on a cloud of ecstasy. The time before that was France, who was the world's greatest lover for a reason, doing things to Canada he never would have dreamed possible.
Never before had Canada been clinically stripped of clothing and tossed onto a bed. He picked himself up, unconsciously trying to cover his nakedness, and watched as Russia disrobed. To his surprise, the large nation was already hard! Most likely from thinking about America's reaction. Canada himself wasn't even halfway there, even as he looked at the large cock that would soon be taking him. Actually, that thought seemed to soften him further.
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Russia pulled his clothes back on and left. Canada hadn't even orgasmed, and was midly surprised to discover that he was hard. But he wasn't in the mood to get himself off, so Canada ignored it and fell asleep on the semen-stained sheets.
In the morning, Russia returned. Canada wasn't sure why it would benefit their plan for him to fuck Canada and leave, then return to do it again. He sat up in the bed, and the pain from the previous night was intense. Canada didn't even want to walk; the thought of sex again was dreadful.
But he said yes anyway, and they did it again. Canada was shoved onto his back for that round, legs spread like a whore. It hurt so bad he was sobbing all throughout, but Russia didn't seem to mind. Maybe he was pretending it was America.
Canada didn't come that time, either. It was three more liaisons before Canada started getting himself off after Russia left, and two more after that that he came during sex. Russia didn't acknowledge the change.
---
Canada shook off the memories. They had been fucking for months now, whenever they could, making sure they were seen slinking off together should America conduct an investigation. And he knew that America was in the area, so maybe now he would finally discover what was going on. Maybe Russia would mark Canada, as he had considered doing before. That would mean his lips on Canada's body, something that had yet to happen. The thought sent a little thrill through Canada, toward his groin.
And maybe America's presence would upset Russia. Maybe he would take his anger out on Canada, pretending it was his hated rival. Canada did not want to be hurt, but it would be nice to see some emotion in his partner. Even if it was hatred directed at someone else.
Sure enough, when the hotel door slammed open, Russia was in a foul mood. His unsteady gate suggested too much to drink.
The hungry way he eyed Canada, waiting naked on the bed for him, was as thrilling as it was frightening.
No, it wasn't a perfect world. But it was the best world Canada could find, so he was going to hang onto it.
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I'm liking it a lot so far!
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God. What had happened to him? To be satisfied with being used so-used to hurt his brother. Used in place of his brother for Russia to take out his aggression. Was this a life for someone who wanted love?
He should say no tonight. Russia couldn't be angry about that. Then they could pick up where they left off once the anger and drink had faded.
But... part of Canada still wanted this. He wanted more than what they had, more than emotionless quick fucks. At least for tonight, Canada could get something from Russia, emotion and touches. So he remained still, legs open while his knees trembled with the desire to snap shut.
Russia did not undress further, presumably only intending to free his cock when he needed it. He paused for a moment, looking down at Canada, taking the scene in. And Canada knew what was going on, of course. Russia was picturing his brother again. Picturing America as the one sprawled on the bed in such a humiliating pose. A tiny voice sprang up in the back of Canada's head suggesting the love Russia would shower upon him were he to actually deliver America to his enemy in such a fashion. Canada squashed it, burning with shame that he could even briefly entertain such a thought.
Mistaking Canada's shamed blush as a result of his position, Russia chuckled. He reached down, fisting a hand in Canada's hair and drawing him up. Canada winced, but made no protest. And then... then Russia leaned closer, and pressed his mouth to the smaller nation's throat. A loud gasp escaped from Canada, his eyes flying open wide. He had thought that Russia might do this, with America nearby, but it was still a shock. They never touched more than necessary. They never did anything but fuck, no foreplay or anything. His mouth was hot and wet against Canada's skin, sucking, biting. When he finished with that spot, he moved to another, making sure to thoroughly mark his territory.
Once satisfied, Russia flung Canada back onto the bed. Canada lay back, spreading his legs again, hips tilted up. He figured, the more humiliating his position, the more Russia would get off on it, the more emotion he would show. Canada even tried to adopt an expression more suitable for his brother than himself, in an attempt to help the illusion along, anger him further. Any passion was better than none.
Russia gave him a look that was almost questioning, maybe a tiny bit confused. After all, he knew who it really was on the bed.
Canada gave him an encouraging nod. Oh god, Do what you want. Pretend I'm him. Or imagine his reaction, whatever. “Please, I need more.”
A smirk tugs at Russia's lips, and he lowered himself roughly atop the shivering, nude nation. The sudden weight pressed on top of him drove the wind from his lungs, the fabric of Russia's clothes rough against sensitive skin. Russia lowered his head to Canada's chest, and Canada wondered dumbly if he was going to-oh god...
Canada's mind exploded as Russia's hot, wet mouth closed over one of his nipples. Pleasure jolted through him, even from such a simple act. It was akin to the feeling he'd get when a lover took his cock into their mouth, in a normal relationship. Canada arched back with a loud gasp, rubbing against him in spite of the painful friction. Then Russia bit, and a cry of pain escaped from Canada's throat. Russia moved on to the other nipple, toying with it between his teeth before biting down, eliciting another pained yell.
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“Down,” Russia said, as if commanding a dog. Canada unwrapped his limbs from the larger nation and lay flat, watching with heated eyes as Russia unfastened his pants and freed himself. He coated his cock in lubricant from a convenient tube nearby, then pressed Canada's legs back, not bothering to stretch him. Canada didn't care. He was mildly surprised there was even lube. Canada arched back with another wild yell when he was impaled, when Russia fully embedded himself with one fluid motion, stretching him wide abruptly. And as usual, Canada was given no time to relax or adjust before he was being thrust into. It was as if Russia was on a mission to actually shove Canada through the bed with every hard thrust, and they only grew rougher every time Russia plunged back into him. Canada wrapped his legs back around Russia, body rocking violently with each thrust.
The only sounds were their breathing, Canada's whimpers of pain and pleasure, and Russia's occasional grunts that could have been sounds of pleasure. The sound of flesh on flesh as the larger nation pounded into him. The intense desire for Russia to lean over and kiss him faded over time, as their bodies rocked together desperately with raw animal lust. Canada growled and cried out every time his prostate was hit, as his cock was rubbed raw against Russia's rapidly moving body. Then, even after the desire for it had faded with his lust, Canada realized he was being kissed. Russia had captured his lips, thrust his tongue deep into his mouth. And when Russia bit down on Canada's tongue, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, Canada came hard. He gave a keening cry, blood dribbling down his chin, body tense. Russia did not let up, continuing to thrust at a brutal pace even as Canada trembled in the throes of orgasm.
When it passed, when the last tingle faded and the last drop of semen had dribbled out, Canada just wanted to stop and flop over and catch his breath. He whined when Russia did not relent, still ramming into him, still hitting the sensitive spot inside him, body still rubbing against his sensitive skin. “No more...”
Russia smirked. As if he was going to stop when he was probably so close. But to Canada's surprise, he did. He pulled out, cock still hard and throbbing desperately. He shifted away. Canada blinked up at him in surprise, not realizing what was going on until Russia came, cock twitching in the large hand that had given it the last few strokes it needed. Semen streamed onto Canada's face, onto his glasses, into his mouth. Russia continued to stroke until every drop had fallen onto Canada's face, then stood, bed shifting as his weight left it.
Canada removed his soiled glasses to watch as Russia adjusted himself, fastened his pants. Apparently unconcerned about Canada's seed all over him, he turned and left the room without a word. Canada was left alone to clean up and struggle not to cry over how low he had sunk.
It wasn't long later that Canada left as well. And that was when he found him. Shirt loose and unbuttoned so as not to chafe his damaged nipples, limping from the assault inside him, neck covered in bite marks, Canada ran into America.
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It absolutely breaks my heart to read, essentially, Canada being brutally raped and I feel almost sorry for him because he is consenting, only for the sake of human contact, but... The way you write is downright amazing. The way Canada sees it almost makes it two men fucking, rather than it being violent and painful rape. It hurts and it's beautiful.
(+1 reader)
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The end particuarly! What a cliffhanger author-anon!
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Canada just couldn't bring himself to smile and agree, even if that would make everything a thousand times easier (and piss Russia off, which may or may not be a good idea). He just stared at the obnoxiously patterned carpet in weary shame. Even avoiding eye contact, he could still see America's expression fall. As worry replaced amusement, Canada felt the first stab of guilt.
“Ah geez, I'm sorry. I just thought that... But what happened? Did... wait...” America's fingers tilted Canada's chin up. “This wouldn't have anything to do with Russia, would it?”
Canada swallowed, eyes widening.
“He hurried past not long ago,” America said, his own eyes narrowing.
There it was. The whole reason they had started their affair months ago. Canada just wanted to sink into the floor and die at the horrified, heartbroken expression on his twin's face. “I...”
“Oh god.” America abruptly enveloped Canada in a tight hug, irritating the damage Russia had done to his body and intensifying the knife of guilt in his chest. Don't cry, Canada thought as he hung limply in his brother's arms. If you cry, America, I might just kill myself.
“I'll kill him,” America said hoarsely as he pulled away. Sure enough, his eyes shone with unshed tears, and the knife twisted a little more. His intensity was startling; sometimes Canada forgot that Russia wasn't the only one changed in recent years, wasn't the only one whose sanity had started to crack. America was still the same dork who laughingly announced ridiculous suggestions to everyone's annoyance at peacetime or war meetings, but with Russia involved, as well as his family... “I'll kill him... I'm going to nuke him back to the st-no, there won't be enough left for there to be a stone age. I don't care if he retaliates, I'll-”
“Stop!” Canada backed away, shaking his head. “This was consensual!” He didn't want Russia or America to be genuinely hurt! He didn't want actual war to come from this.
America slowly blinked, staring at Canada in bafflement. “What?”
“You assumed he raped me, right? He didn't, it was consensual.”
“You...”
“We've been sleeping together for months.” Canada bit his lip. Well, there it was. He squirmed as the color drained from America's face. He really, truly did not want to hurt his brother (that annoying voice in the back of his head reminded him of his lust-spawned desire to deliver America to his enemy in exchange for a little affection). But that was the point, wasn't it? That was the goal. Maybe not Canada's personal goal, but it was part of the package deal.
“No,” America said, shaking his head for emphasis. “You wouldn't. He coerced you, right?”
“He didn't,” Canada said. “He asked and I said yes.”
“Magic?”
“You don't believe in magic.”
“You really...” America swallowed. “You really wanted to?”
Canada nodded. “Nobody else would. I haven't had a lover in years.”
“But... how could you?” The horror had been replaced by betrayal. Canada wished the twisting knife in his heart would finish him off already. “With him!”
“I told you. Nobody else would,” Canada mumbled. “I'm not siding with him, if that's what you're worried about. We're just fucking.”
“How could you!”
Canada's gaze returned to the carpet. “It's just sex,” he said again.
“With him!” Canada could see his brother's body tense. “With... Are you that ignorant?”
Ignorant? Canada frowned, meeting America's eyes again. “No. I can fuck who I want.”
“A communist!”
“Does everything have to be politics?” Even as Canada lied through his teeth, even as his heart was torn by the terror his brother was feeling for him, Canada couldn't help but start to feel a little annoyed. “He's a warm body with a nice ass and a nice cock who welcomes me to his bed.”
“We're nations! Of course everything has to be politics! What were you thinking?”
The annoyance grew. “That I'm a grown nation and can do what I want.”
America shook his head again, and Canada tried to ignore the fact that he looked more worried than angry. “You can't. Not with him.”
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“Canada, please...”
Canada slumped, resolve cracking. What was there for him to be angry about? This was the point. America was supposed to become upset.
“I forbid you.”
“What?” Canada blinked. He couldn't have heard that right.
“You heard me. You can't sleep with Russia anymore.” America was trying desperately to make it sound more like a command than a plea.
Canada could only stare at him. “You... forbid?” He shook his head. The pain of the knife fell away.
“I... Canada, just-”
“You can't tell me what to do!”
“I can when it comes to something like this!”
“I'm not your fucking colony!” Ignoring the pains in his body, Canada fled past America, his emotions a jumble of shame and rage. His feet led him in the direction of Russia's hotel room without even consulting with his brain. The fact that he knew America would follow him just added to the determination when he hesitated at the door.
They had each other's keys. Canada let himself in.
Russia was sitting on the bed, bare-chested, wearing only his pants and boots. He gave Canada a startled look as the door slammed shut. “Yes?”
“America.” Canada took a deep breath. “I ran into America. He knows about us.”
“Ah.” His lips curled into a smile. “Was he suitably horrified?”
“I'll say. He threatened to nuke you into nothing regardless of the consequences, until I assured him it wasn't rape.” Canada's eyes slid shut. “Then he told me to stop sleeping with you. Commanded me.”
“Did he, now? What did you say?”
“That he can't tell me what to do.” Canada settled onto his knees in front of Russia, reaching out to unbutton his pants. Russia shifted, smile widening as he watched the young nation furiously open his pants and pull his cock out. It was already growing hard again, and Canada leaned in to give it a lick from root to tip, feeling it stiffen and grow in his hands. What were you thinking? America's voice said in his head. I forbid you. It made his face burn. And it didn't help at all that America was right about Russia's reasons for sleeping with Canada, was right to be concerned. Was right about everything. Canada was the true villain in the scenario, what right did he have to be pissed?
But he didn't stop. Canada sucked Russia's cockhead into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Above him, Russia groaned, and Canada couldn't help but feel pleased. This was much different than just being fucked by the other nation. He was pleasuring him, like a lover would. He took Russia in deeper, into his throat. Then drew back again, suckling gently as he went.
“None of that,” Russia grunted, gripping Canada by the hair. “Hard.”
Oh well. Canada swallowed Russia down again, sucking hard. Why, his brain asked, was it okay when Russia told him what to do, but not his poor worried brother? Canada squashed the thought, focusing on bobbing his head along Russia cock, working him with intense suckling that made his jaw and throat sore.
It didn't particularly surprise him when he heard the door open; he didn't even wonder how his brother had opened the locked door. Canada didn't stop, even as he felt America's presence, felt his eyes on him as he knelt there, Russia's cock in his mouth. Russia, for his part, gave a thrust of his hips, startling Canada and making him want to gag.
There was only silence behind him, until finally, America's presence was gone and the door slammed shut.
“That was good...” Russia murmured. “So good.” He continued on in his own language, fingers tightening in Canada's hair, holding his head immobile. Russia started thrusting with abandon, just as harshly as he normally did. Canada's eyes widened as his mouth and throat were abused by the strong thrusts of the large cock, as it threatened to choke him. He whimpered in pain and gagged, but did not wish for Russia to stop. Russia was happy with him. Russia was taking him roughly now because he wanted him.
As semen slipped down Canada's bruised throat, tears spilled from his eyes, and he told himself that of course they were from happiness.
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I wish I could give you a better review to express just how much I love this, but I'm tired and using this to relax from school. orz Just know that this is awesome and amazing and I stalk like this like there's no tomorrow.
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Still, oh dear, I also feel sad for America he probably feels betrayed quite a lot right now. Or surrounded by communism or something. Hopefully he won't do anything drastic to retaliate.
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