Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.


The cold steel buckle digs painfully against Lukas' exposed back as the Dane crushes him to his chest, panting heavily from the exertion, his breath hot and loud as it brushes down the smaller nation's sensitive neck. Sharp teeth sink in the pale flesh without a moment's hesitation, finding unerringly the Dane's favorite spot, right there where a collar would meet bruised skin only to leave it exposed for the entire world to witness. Lukas chokes down a moan of pain - he would never give the other man the satisfaction - and allows the rough hand to push him back on his arms and knees, to give the Danish nation a better angle for those final thrusts that bring him to completion. The Dane pulls himself out with a groan, leaving behind a trace of semen trickling repulsively along the smaller man's thigh and Lukas slumps on the bed, his arms giving up under him. He knows he should feel grateful that once again he managed to come first, his lover having become more and more indifferent to his needs, but all he can muster is a bout of simmering anger as the Dane pulls up his breeches and walks to the door without a second look back.

"Where are you going?" Lukas snaps, his voice even more spiteful than he intended, but the Danish nation seems unperturbed.

"Council meeting," he answers carelessly without turning his head and steps out, leaving Lukas to seethe because once more he was the only one stripped naked, and because the Dane no longer lingers by his side once satisfied, leaving him alone to pick himself up dirty and sore from the bed or the floor or whatever surface struck the louder nation's fancy and, even more infuriating, because another meeting is under way in which the Norwegian was not deemed worthy enough to take part.


Lukas prowls down the cold stone corridor, ready to move back at the slightest sign of the uncanny feeling warning him that the two other nations are close by. Both of them have learned by now about the endless loop of trampled pride and suppressed feelings that his limp and angrily bruised neck entail and he has no patience left for their pity. Even sweet, innocent Tino knows, the one who Berwald has yet to fuck even though he's so obviously besotted, because the former Viking has become oh so gentle about everything concerning the Finnish boy and keeps waiting for an assent that Tino does not yet know how to give. Mortals he cannot evade, nor their scornful stares, but as a nation he is untouchable and he has long before ceased to care. Whore, disgrace, abomination, he has already heard it all, time and again, and the only feeling that can hurt him now is a certain Dane's indifference.

The Danish nation's presence hits him like a boiling wave and Lukas tries to pass silently by the council room, fighting the urge to stop and listen in, when the door is thrown open and the Dane strides out, pinning the other man against the wall and kissing him with a tenderness that Lukas believed to be long lost.

"I love you, Lukas," he whispers and saunters back inside, leaving the Norwegian wide-eyed and trembling, for the smile on the Dane's face was the same as long time before, when a look from Matthias would make him feel worshiped rather than lusted for, and the Dane was the secret joy and center of his life.

Damn that idiot Dane and the cage of hope he keeps raising around him. Damn him to Hell.

Lukas slams his fist against the wall but the wall is stone and does not yield, and only a few drops of blood trickle gently down the Norwegian's fingers.