Russia was so much older than Canada that the younger nation would never remember him from that time back when people were so primitive that their language and rituals were now lost upon the modern world. Ivan stared at the younger nation as Matthew stood shyly in the corner of the enormous hotel's ballroom, where the aftermath of the G8 meeting was taking place. Usually a night of drinking would ensue, but somehow England had convinced half the group, already partially drunk, to partake in some good old-fashioned dancing, deciding that the Varsouvienne was simple enough to teach. America had protested vehemently, deciding that he would do nothing of the sort, but several of the other nations agreed to learn the dance that Arthur would be teaching them.
"Alright so you stand like this, woman in front, hands up and held, shoulders touching with the man's right arm across the back of the woman's shoulders to hold her hand." England demonstrated this position on France, the nations that had deigned to partake mirroring the couple. "And, left, right, lunge, up, turn, step, left, right, lunge, up, woman turns to face the man's back, they return to previous position and continue."
The dance was simple enough and as Russia watched the couples forming he couldn't help but let his eyes dance over to Canada. He missed the closeness he had felt with the younger nation so many years ago, before he had been able to stake a claim on him they had been separated by the water and France had gotten his perverse hands on the child. Certainly the toddler with wide blue eyes and that single unruly curl had not grown into the shy young man before him. Certainly Matthew was not that child hiding in the fur of the polar bear cub he still carried around.
It took the older nation a few moments to be cognitively aware that he was making his way around the dance floor to Canada, who was wistfully looking out at the dance floor. The silver-haired nation stood behind the blonde for a few moments, leaning forward when Matthew didn't turn to face him. "Might Russia have dis dance?"
Matthew jumped in shock, turning to look up at the large nation with wide blue eyes staring out from behind thick glasses. The younger nation's lack of response was all that Russia needed to take the delicate hand of Canada and lead him out to the dance floor, letting his right arm wrap around the back of the thinner nation's shoulders to grasp his right hand, mimicking the position that England had shown before stepping into the dance, the taller nation guiding them across the dancefloor in the enormous circle that Arthur's initial motions had created.
"You know, Canada used to be one vith Mother Russia."
"I know." Matthew whispered, lightly shaking as he turned Russia, his height making it so that his partner barely had to duck to make sure that his arm didn't catch the back of Ivan's head. "We were connected by a land bridge."
"Yes." Ivan smirked as they had a brief moment of seeing one another's faces, the larger nation moving quickly so that Canada's back was to him once more. "Do you miss that?"
"The land bridge?" Matthew asked curiously as they repeated their motions, turning his head to look up at Ivan, ignoring the looks that his family was sending their way.
"Being remembered." Russia whispered against soft blonde hair the color of sunflowers.
Canada's hands clenched over the older man's gloved fingers, the pale digits turning white at the knuckles with the force of the grip. "You're just being cruel, aren't you? Making me feel like someone cares and simply rubbing it in my face that no one does."
"I care." Russia turned the younger man, their eyes meeting for a brief second, lustful violet gleaming darkly, greedily, as soft blue glared up at them. "I remember."
"You sit on me at G8 meetings frequently." Canada didn't break away as their whispered conversation continued. "I don't see that as caring, I see that as mockery."
"Ah, Canada, why do you think I know everyone doesn't know you exist?" Russia chuckled as he led the younger nation through the dance. "Because I go to more lengths to hide you."
Matthew turned suddenly, surprised, but Ivan turned him back, leading him through the dance. "What do you want from me?" Canada whispered softly, allowing himself to be led. He had fought so much to remain independent, through the good and the bad, his pride was so great that it rivaled America's. Yet he allowed himself to be led, to rely on another to control his movements. He could see Alfred and Arthur and Francis, all of them staring and whispering angrily, but not wanting to make a scene. What did they matter? They only cared when someone else did, sometimes not even then. They didn't care about him. He was a scapegoat for his brother, a nuisance to his father, an easy piece of ass to his papa.
"Become one with Mother Russia?" Ivan's lips were next to his ear, the older man's grip tightening for a moment before he turned the younger nation. "We don't need a landbridge anymore."
The blonde's eyes were downcast for a moment before he turned and shrugged off the older nation. "5809." The blonde whispered before walking off the dance floor, his red sweater pulled tightly around his thin shoulders as he left the ballroom. Ivan saw the looks of triumphs, simply sending a smirk back at the three before he began to wander the ballroom, as if searching for another dance partner, before he left an hour later.
The fifty-third floor was the top floor of the Ritz hotel and as Russia made his way towards the room Canada had told him the number of, he took a moment to admire the Toronto skyline. He could see CN Tower and lake Ontario itself from the view, smiling as he took in the glittering lights reflected off of the surface. Making his way to the room he found the door propped open by the deadbolt being slipped between the frame and door itself.
Matthew was sitting on the bed, a bottle of beer in his hand from the mini fridge as he stared at the television, playing some strange gameshow, Quibit from the banner being displayed on the screen. When the blonde looked up he flicked the television off with the remote, tossing the piece of plastic on the nightstand as he tilted his head to look at the older nation.
Russia let the door slam closed, his eyes taking in the younger nation's body as his hands worked at the fastenings of his own coat, discarding it over a chair as he made his way to the bed. Canada gave Ivan a wary look, taking another long drink. "What took you so long?" The blonde asked, unzipping his sweater and shrugging out of it, standing up and tossing the sweater aside to unzip his pants. "I was thinking you wouldn't come." A baleful glare. "Or had forgotten."
"Never." Russia murmured, undoing his own pants. Matthew let his eyes grace over the older man's bared torso, enjoying the thickness of his trunk, the way his body was solid and had the hard, bulging lines of muscles. It was true that Russia didn't have washboard abs or the straining muscles that America constantly boasted about, but he wasn't fat, not by a long shot. His aged silver hair was like starlight, his violet eyes covered by the soft hair that fell to his strong jaw.
Canada hummed and slid his own pants down, allowing his shirt to follow. His own body is thin, wiry and lightly muscled the body of a skater, his long limbs lifting to grab the beer, the blonde taking a long drink and draining his beer before turning to look at Russia. For a moment Ivan feels as if he's in a dream. The thin, pale skin illuminated by the Toronto skyline, blonde hair a halo about sharp features, drooping blue eyes dreamy and gentle as they looked at the older nation through those thick glasses.
"You're very beautiful." Ivan whispered, staring at the thin frame presented to him.
"You're quite handsome yourself." Canada whispered, offering a small smile at the older nation, the expression making him seem so young. Russia tugged his leather gloves off, dropping them to the floor as he approached.
"Altai." Russia whispered, moving around the edge of the bed. "So… You will become one with me?"
"Yes…" Canada whispered softly, looking away as Russia leaned down to kiss his neck, his large, long-fingered hand brushing away fine blonde strands before lacing in the delicate man's hair. "I'll… I'll talk to Harper in the morning."
"Da…" Ivan gently slid his hand over the younger nation's side, feeling the protruding ribs as he let his mouth glide over soft skin. Canada sighed as he removed his glasses, biting his lip as he let them drop to the table, hearing the clatter but not responding.
Matthew reached up with long, bony fingers, tenderly sliding them over the larger nation's neck and shoulders as he kissed his jaw, nipping at the worn skin there harshly before dragging his nails down Russia's back. The older nation groaned at the rough treatment, purring happily when he shoved Canada to the bed and moved to perch himself between thin thighs, feeling muscles clench as those legs wrapped around him.
Their underwear was quickly discarded and Ivan began to roughly bite at Matthew's throat and shoulder, leaving a litter of purpling marks as he slid his hands down to his prize. The blonde gasped softly, leaving a red ring of teethmarks around Russia's jugular, his nails dragging over the taunt muscles of Ivan's back as the older nation began to grind against him. The blonde moaned, smirking as he arched, revealing the tight bend of his spine as his erection rubbed against Russia's stomach. The silver-haired man grinned, nipping and reaching down to press long, thick fingers into Canada's tight entrance.
There wasn't much foreplay other than that, the preparation was only slightly longer and soon Matthew was on his side, Ivan thrusting into him as he held those long skater's legs closed and to the side, allowing Canada to stroke himself in time with the rough penetrations. The blonde moaned as a particular spot was hit within him, sighing as he pressed his face to the bedspread, feeling Ivan beginning to kiss and nip his throat again. His grip on himself tightened in surprise when the Russian pressed their lips together in a firm kiss, the shock of the action causing his body to seize and a gasp to escape his throat. The clench of muscles and the mess pooling on the bedspread made Ivan groan and his own stomach tighten as he thrust into Canada a few more times, rubbing the raw nerves of the blonde's passage before he came, collapsing as he spilled into the younger man.
The silver-haired nation panted softly against Canada's neck, the blonde moaning as he wrapped one arm around Russia's torso, pinning their bodies together by the feeble strength of the exhausted young nation's thin limb.
Ivan smiled gently as he kissed Matthew once more, allowing the touch to linger slightly longer before pulling back to whisper, "Now… You're one with Russia."