Why did he have to answer the door? Why did it have to be him? Why was he here?
These thoughts filled the Briton's head, his eyes wavering around the room before locking onto a pair of soft purple eyes. England watched the man silently, wanting him to speak up. That childish smile... it was a lie. England, as well as every other nation knew that Russia wasn't as innocent as he looked. England straightened himself before speaking. Clearly Ivan wasn't going to speak first. "What do you want Ivan? What business do you have here?" He asked, looking up at the Russian impatiently. Ivan let out a small giggle before responding.
"Dear comrade... the question is; what don't I want?" He stated happily, clearly having ulterior motives
"Belarus... Now come on Ivan... spit it out already." England replied sharply, losing patience rapidly.
"Da... that is true comrade..." Ivan said, not liking the mention of his deranged sister at all. England folded his arms in wait. "It's just that... Your drinking is becoming a problem and you get drunk too easily. Perhaps I could teach you the Russian way of drinking? On which, you do not get drunk no matter how much you drink?" He finally answered, sparking the Briton's interest. Hearing England agree to the idea he grinned. "Great. We will start tomorrow." He informed before turning at leaving.
All day England had been waiting for Russia. He decided his house would be safer and a lot warmer for a fact. He wasn't a fan of vodka but Russia insisted on it. Hearing his door open he turned to be greeted with the smiling Russian. "Finally you're here Ivan. Now, let's get started." he said anxiously. Ivan explained how he drank, getting some understanding nods by England in response. "Well... Let's try this then shall we?" England said enthusiastically.
His vision was clouded; he was being forced onto a bed. He didn't know what was happening... He didn't know he could become so drunk. He didn't know Russia planned this all along. Just then his shirt was torn from his body, cold air hitting his chest. England let out a small gasp feeling the other bite down on his collar bone. His hands gripped the other's hair, tugging slightly. Why did it have to feel so good? Was it because he was drunk? All he could see was the shadowed figure of the Russian; the smell of vodka lingering in the air.
The Russian continued to toy with the Briton. And every whip of the tongue across England's chest, every bite and nibble earned him more praise, hearing soft pleading moans; begging him to continue. Of course, the Russian complied, bringing his lips back to England's while he undid the other's pants. His hand slipped down and began to you with the other's member. Once it had become hard he pulled off the Briton's boxers; the cold crisp air hitting England's member, causing him to gasp and shiver slightly. Russia slid himself down, leaving a trail of kisses, stopping at the hardened member. He left traces and designs with his tongue, making his way to the tip. Swirling his tongue around it he grinned hearing England let out a louder moan. After the Russian was done with his teasing he flipped the other over and propped him up so he was leaning over on his knees. He brought a hand over, stroking the Briton's member. He didn't bother preparing the other, he just drove himself into the Briton; grunting at the tightness surrounding him.
England gasped feeling the Russian forcing himself into him. His eyes watered at the pain but yet the pleasure he was receiving was overpowering. With every rough thrust he moaned louder and louder, the other hitting the bunch of nerves just right. The other was so deep inside him he was in a constant euphoria. England didn't even notice the hand leave his member and reach out for something before it was too late. He gasped once again feeling cold metal pressing against his throat. Was he going to die? No, Ivan couldn't be doing this. Then the pressure went slightly deeper. He felt it cut into his skin, seeing a red blur dripping onto the bed. But then the knife was removed. He inwardly sighed until a sharp pain hit his back. The other was carving something. His eyes watered as he continued to moan, overwhelmed by the thrusting pleasure. England shivered hearing a soft voice whispering in Russian in his ear as the knife dragged around his back, carving a design. "Ты прекрасно выглядишь Артур~" The Russian whispered, sending shivers down his spine as his member shot out it's seeds, his body becoming weak as the other finished up and came inside of him. Feeling the other pull out he collapsed on the bed, panting heavily.
England woke up later, his back still stinging. He slipped off the bed, putting some pants on as he went to the mirror. Turning around he froze. There on his back was a perfect star, and inside of it was a hammer and sickle. The other must have done this to mark territory. He didn't like the pain of the fact he was being owned like a possession but his mind was clouded with thoughts of the Russian. He walked down the stairs, going to make some tea. When he got there he froze, looking at the counter. There was a new bottle of vodka sitting down and beside it was a sunflower with a note tied to it.
Dear Comrade Arthur, I hope we can drink again soon sometime. But this time you will be coming to my house. You are mine now and I will stop at nothing to keep it that way. Become one with me again sometime. –Love Ivan~
England read the note. Any sense of disagreement was non-existent. He would have to visit Russia soon. After all; He wouldn't have a choice whether he liked it or not. No matter how different they were they still fit together.
Just like Vodka and Scones…