It was not particularly difficult. The other nations never did seem to notice him, when he did not wish them to anyway.
So it was really no surprise when he wandered into a spare meeting room to find the northern nations of North America practicing geography together.
"Ah… Fuck Mattie. Fuck me harder, take me over the falls and fill my great lakes."
"T-that doesn't even make sense Alfred." Canada grunted in his soft-spoken voice. It was intriguing that even during intercourse the quiet nation barely spoke above a whisper. Russia had assumed that he would probably be louder in bed, his quietness ending at the foot of the bed and a brash nymphomaniac replacing his soft demeanor.
Russia also assumed he would be more inclined to take than receive the treatment he was giving America. But by the looks of it the two were quite familiar with this arrangement. He had to wonder how often America bent over desks with his pants and undergarments pooling around his heals, his bomber jacket clinging to the sofa to keep itself from the floor (undoubtedly tossed there in a furious hurry), and his shirt bunched up to his shoulders showing the slow forming sheen building there. How often did Canada find his tie pulled lose, and his shirt tail tugged from the hold of his pants, whose zipper was low-hanging and his member exposed. Well… not exposed since it fit into America quite well. Ivan supposed that could be counted as unexposed. Except for the few second intervals when it would slip out, showing its firmness. Its blatant hardness with veins pulsing and rosy complexion begging for satisfaction, as it slid in smoothly between Alfred's round ass.
Ivan tilted his head and watched their hips thrust against each other, one forward and one back, the sign of practice, because that makes perfection, da?
Canada's arms wrapped around America's waist, pressing them back to chest; and Ivan suspected that they fit into each other's every dip and mount, muscle into muscle and chest into back. Canada's hand slipped around America's penis and jerked him with a fast pace that hinted at each of their closeness, and America, strong independent America, moaned like the teenaged boy that he was, pressing back against his brother nation and tilting his head up to the sky. His eyes closed as he spilled over himself and the desk that had supported the two's tussle.
Canada did not stop however. He continued their rhythm pounding into America's surely filled Great Lake, and America just took it. Looking up to the ceiling and moaning sweet words of pleasure in his euphoric bliss, America's eyes dazedly watched the ceiling, until they slid over to him.
Russia observed the tenseness of America's posture as his eyes widened with recognition and his mouth dropped open like a retarded baby. He did not have time to scream or holler like he obviously intended, because Canada was pushing him over, bending him back over the desk, and he complied almost thoughtlessly. Perhaps he was ignoring Russia? Because his eyes slipped shut and he groaned similar to how the women in Russia's porn collection often did. Canada still pounding into him, though with much less musical accord, until finally he whimpered a word and his motion slowed to a sluggish lull, still jumping forward occasionally.
Ivan waited a moment to see the results, and finding nothing to be changing soon, excused himself to the door.
What a very interesting discovery.