Italy didn't know how he got there.
XOXO
Canada didn't know either.
XOXO
Russia kolkolkoled gleefully.
XOXO
Italy decided he was never going drinking with Canada again.
XOXO
-FLASHBACK-
They had ended up at the bar after Prussia had barged in on Germany and Italy's shared room very early that morning, grabbing Italy by the arm, dragging him outside and telling him that he wanted to spend time with his little brother.
Italy was very much aware that they were going to watch the German UEFA 2012 match on television and eat wurst.
Italy also knew that though he'd enjoy football, he would not enjoy wurst. So when Prussia also chucked his newest boy-toy Canada onto the sidewalk alongside Italy, he has more than happy to sucker Canada into heading to a bar to watch the game away from the brothers.
When they arrived, there was a lot more drinking involved than there was game watching.
So when Italy found Russia with his arm around him kolkolkoling in his ear, he wondered how exactly he could make it out of this one. The answer was clear.
He could not.
He promptly passed out on the seat next to Canada, because though the boy could hold his wine like a champ, German beer was another thing entirely.
XOXO
Canada admits that he's a little upset when Prussia kicks him out (HE DOESN'T LOVE ME! I KNOW HE DOESN'T LOVE ME!). So when a wonderful opportunity to drown his sorrows with a nation that can actually see him arises, he goes for it.
He didn't realize that Russia liked German beer. Let alone German bars, German Taverns, German towns, German counties, or even coming to Germany at all.
He wished he would leave.
Now.
Please?
Because Russia was holding Italy, and then Italy was passing out, and Canada had no idea how to handle the situation.
He knew he should have brought his damned hockey stick with him. He couldn't go anywhere without someone trying to molest him. That was why he had a strong boyfriend.
Who had kicked him out of his house.
And landed him here.
Damn you, Prussia.
He supposed Italy had the same kind of problem. Except it wasn't his boyfriend who had kicked him out.
Lucky bastard.
Canada knew for sure now that he had picked the wrong brother.
He decided that the drink he was sipping definitely had something funny in it, because Russia was raptly watching him nurse it. Canada downed the rest.
To hell with it.
He knew he was already drugged.
XOXO
Waking up in a room covered in sunflowers was reassuring. Sunflowers were pretty. Sunflowers were nice. Sunflowers were good.
But the fact that these sunflowers belonged to Russia wasn't so reassuring.
Especially once he realized what position he was in on what must have been Russia's bed. His hands were strapped with a smooth rope to the headboard, secure. He had seen those knots before, he was stuck. On the bright side, he was still clothed in a shirt and trousers. That was nice. He would very much have liked his shoes back though, so that he could GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!
Italy was in much the same state beside him, but was left shirtless. Canada didn't have a hard time believing that he had nothing on under his coat when they had left the house.
Italy was rather cute, he observed, not for the first time.
He mentally slapped himself, because wanting Italy was not a good idea at a time like this.
Italy stirred, mouth dropping open cutely.
Well, fuck.
Russia came into the room.
Well, BIGGER fuck.
He had a crop.
This will probably be the biggest fuck of them all.
He hoped that wasn't foreshadowing.
XOXO
Russia thought this was going to be a very good day for him.
XOXO
Kittens, kittens. Cute kitty... Come here! Ti amo Mr. Kitty!
XOXO
"What the fuck to I 'ave to do ta get out a here, eh?" Canada wished he had paid more attention to America. Maybe then he'd have been able to fight his way out, instead of trying to talk. Not that people generally heard him anyways.
"Oh, America, such language. You will be shutting up now, da?" He ran the crop down Canada's jaw.
"I'M CANADA!" Russia's arm flashed back then forward quickly. Canada's cheek fucking hurt.
And then there was a gag in his mouth.
And now it was too late.
XOXO
Italy came into consciousness and felt the restraints at his arms. Oh, but this was one of his favourite things to do with Germany. He pulled at the restraints, pushing his hips up and crying Germany softly. He gave a simpering look at the place Germany usually knelt for this, opening his eyes and using them to full effect.
His bedroom eyes were for Germany, and it was Russia that was standing there. Oh, but this was all kinds of wrong, because Russia was going to eat him, because that was the way Italy looked at pasta.
He cast his eyes around and located Canada beside him, a gag in his mouth. "Canada?" he asked, hoping for answers. Tears merely welled in his eyes.
Oh, but they were fucked.
Italy cried out, tears now in his eyes too. He twisted and pulled at his wrists like and chained animal and wailed.
XOXO
Russia was so turned on.
XOXO
Canada didn't want to find that attractive. Not that he did. Because he didn't.
It was so attractive.
XOXO
Italy was so screwed. And he had no idea how he even got to Russia's house, let alone his bedroom.
XOXO
-END FLASHBACK-
Russia moved around to grab the back of Italy's head, hand gripping his hair hard. He pulled Italy forward and leaned down, saying, "You'll be good, da?"
Italy lashed out with his knee and caught Russia under his ribs. He was eternally grateful to Germany for combat training, even if he hated it. He kicked out with his foot and hit Russia in the chest, screaming for help- for Germany, Japan, anyone- as Russia hit the floor. He twisted his wrists and pulled and struggled and thought he could nearly break free...
But Russia was grabbing his ankles and pinning them, and he must have grabbed something else while Italy struggled because suddenly there were restraints around his ankles, and Russia was pushing his legs apart.
He couldn't close them.
A bar held them wide.
He was fucked, and there was one thing he could do now, because he had held out as long as he could against Russia like Germany would have wanted him too.
He cried and pleaded for his release, he surrendered, he wished he could get to the white flag in his pocket. Mostly though, he cried.
XOXO
Russia had never seen anything more arousing.
XOXO
Canada didn't think he had either.
He was glad Russia's attention was on Italy.
And he was surprised that Italy had fought back.
XOXO
Russia ran gentle fingers up Italy's chest and ribs, mapping his soft, beautiful skin. "You hurt me, so I cannot let you go, da?"
Italy's eyes widened, he sobbed, "Please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, let me go, please, I surrender, please let me go, please!" Russia thought that Italy was incredibly good at begging. Germany was a lucky nation.
One hand travelled down to the top of Italy's trousers. He whispered into Italy's ear, "But you hurt me, so I can do whatever I want with you now, da?"
Italy cried harder.
Canada wished he had worn more comfortable trousers. Because this was getting him hard. And it was growing painful. And fucking Italy seemed like a really great idea. Really great.
Russia's hands unbutton Italy's trousers and drag them past his knees along with his pants. He turns to look at Canada, quietly asking, "You would like to have some fun too, da?" his guttural Russian accent strong, and- Canada admits- attractive. He nods, and Russia kisses him through the gag before removing it and kissing him again. He tastes like vodka.
Canada knew he wasn't at the bar for beer.
Russia flips him onto his knees, and then slides the restraints holding he and Italy to the headboard side by side. He pushes their bodies together, and directs Canada to climb between Italy's naked thighs, pants and trousers still below his knees and touching Canada lightly.
He is crying less, now.
Canada believes it's because he thinks that he'll be more gentle with him. He personally can't tell if he will be. Because with Italy spread out underneath him, he's losing his sense of whether this is right or wrong. He just knows that he wants sex. And that's all he is thinking about with Italy looking so... Fuckable.
A sharp dose of reality hits Canada when Russia's arms come around from behind him and unbutton the front of his trousers, bringing those and his pants to the tops of his knees. He's aroused. Italy isn't. He wants to fix that.
He kisses Italy on the cheek, and can feel Russia watching them. He wants to put on a bit of a show, suddenly.
XOXO
Italy turns his head to the side when Canada kisses his cheek. Canada continuously peppers Italy's face with kisses, and tears well in his eyes. He wants this to be over.
He wants it to be over, and so he stays still under Canada's ministrations and lets him do what he wants to him.
Just let it be over soon.
XOXO
Russia watches raptly when Canada sweeps in and takes Italy's mouth for the first time, as Italy gasps, mouth wide, and Canada takes full advantage. He knows that Canada has his tongue in Italy's mouth when Canada lets out a long, low moan.
Russia can't keep his hands to himself anymore, watching as Canada takes Italy's mouth.
He removes his great-coat, and the shirt underneath, scarf slung around his neck still. Russia presses against Canada's back, and runs his hands over Italy's torso again.
Italy's eyes grow wide.
Russia is leaking pre-come already.
Canada pushes back against Russia, placing wet kisses down Italy's body as he veers for his soft cock. He's kept from his goal by inches, due to the restraint on his wrists. Russia hears his growl of frustration, moving forward and pushing Italy higher up on the bed, elbows bent back by his head and shoulders pressed to his hands. Canada glares at him, and Russia is grows even more aroused from the display.
Acquiescing to Canada's silent demand, he pulls Italy down on the bed into a more comfortable position, his cock still within reach of Canada's mouth. Canada immediately takes Italy into his mouth, and Russia watches the display gleefully. Where the desire for this act came from, he knows not, but he's glad for it.
Italy's face grows pink, and Russia reaches up to tweak at a nipple. He is satisfied when Italy lets out a soft moan, and turns his attentions towards Canada. Turning to the bedside table, he grabs a bottle of vodka and pours it over Canada's ass, and then his own fingers. Canada jerks, and Russia knows he can feel the sting already.
It'll sting worse inside of him.
The thought in mind, he forces two fingers inside of Canada, one hand holding his hip to keep him in place. His fingers immediately begin scissoring, and he wishes he could see Canada's face, but the aforementioned is busy entertaining Italy, who looks both incredibly aroused and like he wishes he were somewhere else.
XOXO
Canada winces from the white-hot burn of the fingers inside of him. No one else's have ever been this painful, and he doesn't have to wonder any longer at the source of the pain when he smells it, clear as day. Vodka.
Of course.
It could have been peanut butter, or whipped cream, or custard, something that wouldn't hurt so damn bad. But this was Russia, so of course it had to fucking hurt. And who was Russia without his vodka?
He tried to distract himself by focusing on the pleasure he was giving Italy, putting all of his attention on the slip of Italy's cock inside of his mouth. He tongued the head of his cock, the slit, the underside. He made swirling motions all up and down it. Took him deep into the back of his throat. Italy looked like he was trying to resist arousal at all, nevermind coming, and Canada knew he might have his work cut out for him.
He immediately recognized the feeling of Russia's fingers leaving, and then a all three forcing their way remorselessly inside. The fingers jerked and pulled inside of him, and tears welled in his eyes from the pain of being stretched as well as from the hot pain of the vodka. The fingers left abruptly.
Over the sound of his own ministrations on Italy's member, he could hear a zipper being undone, clothes drawn off, and what he assumed to be vodka being poured. He felt some hit the back of his legs. There was a hiss, and then hands settled on his hips. Russia entered him hard and to the hilt.
He cried out with the pain of Russia's entrance, and the added pain of the vodka; newly applied once more. He nearly bites down on Italy's cock, but manages to stop just in time.
Italy is still doing everything he can to avoid arousal, and Canada wants to make him come, badly. If only for a distraction from the tearing of Russia pumping in and out of his ass. His efforts redouble, and he puts everything he has into making Italy come.
It wasn't like Russia was doing anything for either of them.
XOXO
Russia was smashing into Canada, taking as much pleasure as he could before he came. He reached around and grabbed Canada's cock, hand still holding traces of the vodka.
He pulled hard at him, intent on forcing the come out of him, if need be.
XOXO
Canada had no idea when it had happened, but somewhere along the line the burn from Russia inside of him and on his cock turned pleasurable. The sting was now welcome, arousing, and was a warm, extremely pleasant burn. It was like taking a shower that singed your skin pink, like itching at a rash until you skin was red and raw, like picking off a scab that had been itching until just a moment ago, when you had slowly peeled it off.
God, but was this good.
And Russia was huge.
XOXO
Italy did not want to be in Russia's bed. He did not want his cock in Canada's mouth, and he most certainly did not want to be aroused.
But he was. Because damnit, Canada was good at this.
Italy also did not want to come, but it was happening. He was coming to his peak.
He didn't want to get there.
Canada did something else with his tongue, and his legs jerked. Another moan escaped his mouth as pleasure shot through him.
He decided then that if he came, this would all be over sooner. Resigned, he submitted himself to Canada and his tongue.
XOXO
Canada resisted the urge woop and fistpump like his obnoxious brother when Italy finally began responding, but was cut off by one of his own moans anyways when Russia once again hit his prostate.
This was only one of many times he had, and it was most likely accidental. The way that Russia was pounding at him made it seem like he was only in this for his own pleasure. The hand stroking his cock solidified the idea, as Russia was pulling at him like he was only doing it for propriety's sake. Getting Canada to come was just a side factor in making himself come.
It was oddly arousing, being used like this.
It seemed Canada was learning a lot about his sexual preferences today.
XOXO
Italy was rolling his hips up and into Canada's mouth, arching and letting loose with little moans while Canada tried to accommodate him. With Russia slamming into him from behind he frequently struggled with keeping Italy inside of his mouth, as well as doing a good job of it. However, as time went on, it seemed that Italy increasingly needed less skill and more warm place to shove his cock, probably due to the fact that he was very close to coming undone.
Russia's pace increased, and Canada found his prostate on the end of a lot of abuse from the other nation. He was rocked forward by Russia's hips and dick slamming forward, only to be drawn back by the hand on his hip. All the while Russia was steadily pulling at his cock, giving it the bare minimum of attention and choosing instead to focus on fucking him to completion.
It was excellent.
XOXO
Russia rocked forward and found himself nearing the edge. He continuously slammed forwards into Canada's tight ass, and tried harder to make Canada come as he himself neared the edge. He gave Canada's cock better attention, rolling his fist and stroking harder at places that made him moan.
He angled his hips and purposefully sought out Canada's prostate. Russia heard Canada moan loudly and knew he had found the spot, throwing his whole body into forcing his dick against that place.
XOXO
Canada recognized Russia's increased attention and dedicated himself completely into sucking Italy off. It didn't matter that his jaw hurt, because Italy was nearly there, and so was he, and Russia too. Italy just needed a final push before they could all enjoy their orgasms...
XOXO
Italy rocked his hips up farther and faster, his orgasm growing nearer. He pulled his legs up and rested the bar restraining his ankles on Canada's upper back, just below his shoulders. He pulled his hips up and harder into Canada's mouth than ever using leverage from the bar's place on Canada's back, forcing himself deep inside Canada's throat and pulling Canada harder down onto him.
He came down Canada's throat moments later when Canada swallowed around him, throwing his head against the pillows and loudly screaming him release.
XOXO
Canada felt both Russia and Italy give one last, huge thrust, and swallowed around Italy, constricting his throat to milk that beautiful orgasm out of him and swallowing continuously to get him through his orgasm.
He simultaneously clenched around Russia's cock, pulling yet another orgasm from one of his current cohabitants.
XOXO
Russia slammed for the last time into Canada, intent on smashing his prostate and making him come across the bed sheets. Canada clenched around him, and Russia came deep inside of his ass. He felt Canada spasm from the blow to his prostate, and while Russia continued to pump lightly into him, he also stroked Canada's cock until he finally came, moments after Russia's own release.
XOXO
Italy lay back on the bedspread, satisfied and sated. Then, two very familiar things happened.
Someone kicked down a door near the front of the house. Italy wasn't all that surprised, he had gotten over the shock years ago. Living with South Italy will do that to you.
Next, he heard Germany shout his name. Be it in training, in bed, -or, well, anywhere really- this too was a familiar sound. He opened his mouth to lazily call back, before Russia's large, cum-covered hand sealed over his mouth.
"We had fun, da?" he said, looking hard at him before turning to also gaze hauntingly at Canada. They both nodded. "I will be leaving now," he finished, turning to a window while doing up his pants and then pushing his arms through his great-coat. Germany was throwing doors open inside of the house, moving closer to theirs. Russia opened the window and jumped out just before Germany burst through the door.
XOXO
"Italy! And... Canada, ja?" Canada nodded, craning his head to look behind Germany in the hopes of finding Prussia there, relieved to see him.
There was an empty door frame. Quietly, throat sore and voice raspy, he asked Germany, "Where's Prussia?"
Germany glanced at the ground before looking up, "He figured you were fine and thought that I was being paranoid when I decided to look for the two of you. I received word of Russia's presence in my country and thought that I should make certain you both were safe." Canada knew, however, that this was a lie. He had wanted to insure Italy's safety. But Prussia had no excuse.
Prussia was an asshole.
Prussia didn't give two shits about him, really.
So why were they even together?
Germany came over to the bed, cutting Italy's and then Canada's restraints with an army knife. He they went back to rub Italy's wrists and softly ask, "Did he hurt you?" Italy shook his head to indicate the negative, and Germany brought him close with a sigh of relief, kissing his forehead gently. He assisted Italy in putting his clothing back on, briefly searching for shoes and having no luck. Sighing, Germany lifted Italy off of the bed. It was slightly awkward, seeing as Italy's legs were still spread by the contraption Russia had put them in. However, the scene was still sweet and touching; a reunion of lovers.
If Prussia were worth anything as a boyfriend, he'd have been there too.
His decision was made.
He turned to Germany. "Tell Prussia that he and I are over. Permanently."
Germany sighed. "As his brother, I am obligated to ask that you stay with him, and to tell you that though he is immature at times, he does care about you." He sighed again. "However, Prussia destroyed my television today, so I'm perfectly fine with saying to you that you really are better off without him, Canada."
Surprised, Canada nodded in acknowledgement before moving out of the door and off to find Russia.
Italy watched him go, before turning to Germany with a smile.
Brightly, Italy spoke. "It's just because Russia has a bigger penis than Prussia."