WARNINGS: masochistic!Liet, brief mention of past abuse

Original request:

"America/Lithuania (established relationship), scratching

Lithuania's favorite way to have sex is face to face and leaning over America so America can wrap his arms around Lithuania. Why? Because in the heat of the moment, America claws Lithuania's back. Whether he leaves welts or draws blood, his marks rake over the scars Russia left, and Lithuania likes that. A lot. He likes knowing that it's happening as it's happening and he likes looking at the marks in a mirror after (sometimes enough to get off all over again).

I don't care if Lithuania penetrates or rides or if they do something non-penetrative, but NO CASUAL MISOGYNY, PLEASE. And I don't really like Nantucket-play because it always looks silly in my head, but you can include it if you prefer. Except for the scratching, I'd like if their sex was sweet (but not too sappy).

Bonus:
a) America doesn't know the history behind the scars. Lithuania doesn't feel comfortable talking about them, so he just shrugs off questions and reminds America that he's very old and has seen a lot of violence.
b) Aside of sex, Lithuania likes when America scratches his back for him, even if it's not hard enough to leave marks.
c) Fluff."

Heat.

It was heat and sweat and deep, heavy gasps for air as Toris buried his face into Alfred's neck, hoisted the American's leg up over his hip, and started thrusting harder into the body beneath him. He thrilled in Alfred's response; the hitch in his breath and the arch of his spine as his voice rose in pitch and volume with each passing second.

Toris loved this, loved when Alfred really let loose, dropped his responsibilities to the world and just flailed among the bed sheets and enjoyed himself, enjoyed Toris above him, in him. It had been too long since they were last like this, their duties keeping them an ocean away, but finally, finally, Alfred had found the time off to come to Vilnius and stay a while.

Toris would have liked to say that they had met each other calmly, civilly, maybe with a subtle kiss that wouldn't draw that much attention, but he should have known by now that Alfred never greeted anyone he liked without a bear hug. And once he was in those strong arms, once he'd had the chance to press his nose to Alfred's cheek and get his lungs filled with that distinctive, masculine scent, once he'd had the chance to realize just how badly he'd missed it, that was the end of any plans of civility.

He'd practically dragged Alfred out of the airport, and it was only his fear of public humiliation that kept him from shoving the American into the back seat of his car and taking him right then and there. It hadn't helped that Alfred kept toying with the buttons on his shirt on the drive home, undoing the first few and running the tips of his fingers across Toris's collar bone, and by the time they'd reached Toris's house in the suburbs, well, it was impressive that they'd managed to reach the bedroom, to say the least.

A particularly hard thrust aimed at a certain angle made Alfred cry out and grip Toris by the shoulders, drawing him forward and inward, meeting in a passionate mesh of teeth, tongue, lips and breath. It was too sloppy to really be called a kiss, but it was lovely and warm even though its wet and messy, Toris thought, and he could feel Alfred pleading "More, more, harder, c'mon, ah-! yeah, right there! Oh, love you, Toris, love you-!"against his mouth.

And Toris was hardly silent himself, certainly quieter than Alfred, but he still vocalized, pressed his lips back against Alfred's neck and imprinted words, "Yes, yes, lovely, beautiful, love you too-" into his hot skin. He slipped into Lithuanian more than once, but he figured Alfred got the idea from the way he keened and gripped Toris's shoulders tighter, leaving red half-circles where his fingernails dug in. Toris groaned deep in his throat, the stinging sensation shooting across his back and down to his cock.

He's getting close, Toris thought, even as he felt warm pressure begin to build low in his own gut. He knew he was nearing his peak as well and dragged a hand down Alfred's twitching stomach, grasping his cock and jerking his fist upward, determined to bring them both off together.

"Agh-fuck!" Alfred groaned, head falling back. "Fuck, Toris, ahh, aahh-!"

Alfred tightened and curled when he came, his legs crossing over Toris's lower back, thighs squeezing his hips, his arms pressing them even closer than before. His hands shifted, gripping Toris's shoulder blades, and even his fingers tighten, dragging down across pale, scarred skin as he bucked and cried out through his orgasm.

Toris grunted as he lost all rhythm, pounding away into Alfred's tightening body with abandon as his own climax hit him hard, right when Alfred dug his fingers in and clawed across his back. All he could do was gasp and shake as he felt like he was being wrung out, squeezed until there's nothing left in him until he finally collapsed under his own weight. He lay where he fell on Alfred's slowly heaving chest, unmoving except for the subtle trembling in his arms and legs.

"Wow," Alfred mumbled after a while. "Damn. We gotta do that more often."

Toris giggled, not really conscious enough to do much else. He could feel Alfred stroking his hair absentmindedly and let himself drift for a while, listening to the heartbeat bellow him slow back down to a steady rhythm.

"Mind if I use your shower?" Alfred asked after some time.

"Go ahead," Toris responded a little sleepily, rolling off of Alfred to let him up.

Alfred mumbled his thanks and stood up, shuffling towards the bathroom, leaving Toris alone on the bed.

With the sound of water running, Toris lay back on the bed with a contented smile, then winced a bit as his back stung. Not that that depleted his smile at all, though. Alfred could be scratcher sometimes, and a rather vicious one at that, but Toris would be lying if he said he didn't like it on some level. It was a part of seeing Alfred let loose, so wrapped up in pleasure that he forgot to be as caring and gentle as he usually was with Toris, just let go and let his nails leave deep lacerations across his skin-

"Shower's free if you want it," Alfred announced with a yawn, jarring Toris from his thoughts. He realized he had been subconsciously grinding his shoulders against the bed sheets, further irritating the marks on his back. Alfred apparently hadn't noticed though, rounding the bed to collapse face down on his side.

"I think I will take a shower," Toris decided out loud, reaching over to ruffle Alfred's hair affectionately.

"Don't be offended if I'm asleep when you get back," came the mumbled reply. "I just got fucked into oblivion on top of a nine hour flight."

"I won't be," Toris responded with a laugh, leaning over for a moment to kiss the shell of Alfred's exposed ear, then getting up himself and heading towards the bathroom.

Before getting into the shower though, he paused in front of the sink and, craning his neck slightly, turned to see the damage done to his back in the mirror.

Long lines stretched down the length of his back, from the top of his shoulder blades down to about his waist. There was no blood drawn (Toris may have been a little disappointed about that), but the marks had already puffed up into sore welts, a bright, angry shade of red against his pale skin.

Maybe that was why he liked them so much, he thought to himself, reaching over a shoulder to gently prod one of the marks. It wasn't just getting to see Alfred's wilder side, it was about the way they appeared on his skin, too.

For a long time, Toris hated seeing his own back. He was always careful around mirrors, and kept a top on even in the most intimate of scenarios. A nation's history showed on their body; every battle, every massacre, every conquering left a wound. Some healed better than others. Toris had never healed easily.

It didn't help that most of his remaining scars were inflicted not only on his land, but directly to his body as well (the bite of a whip, the sting of a glass bottle shattering against his shoulders and the burn of vodka seeping into the wounds, all memories still vivid in Toris's mind).

But this little habit of Alfred's, this subconscious reaction when nearing orgasm to grab onto the nearest thing and just claw at it desperately, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise for Toris. The first time he'd paid them any attention, it was just to check the damage, but once he'd actually seen the marks, staring back at him from the mirror in the bathroom in Alfred's New York apartment, they'd captivated him.

The glaring red lines drew his eyes directly to them, steering him away from any of the pale old scars that criss-crossed his back. It wasn't anything more than a distraction, really, but a very effective one at that, caused in the throes of pleasure and not by a conqueror suppressing him with violent force.

That, Toris thought to himself as he stepped in the shower, was probably what he really enjoyed about the scratches. They were inflicted on him by someone he loved, someone who loved him, in a moment when that someone was so lost in pleasure that he couldn't control himself, and Toris had put him into that pleasure. They were love marks, he liked to think, which masked the scars left behind by pain and suffering.

With the stream of hot water pounding against his sore back, Toris realized arousal was stirring in him once again. He considered leaving the shower to try and encourage another round out of Alfred, but if he wasn't already asleep he must be very close to it, and in all good conscience, Toris couldn't bring himself to rouse the younger man after his long day.

Instead, he planted one hand against the bathroom wall to steady himself and, with the dull ache in his back a constant reminder of the marks left there, slid the other hand down his body to quickly get himself off. The water pummeled his back, making the inflamed skin sting. He bit his lip, thinking back to Alfred, to his wide-eyed expression when he hit his peak and clawed at Toris's back like an animal. He holds that memory in his mind, breathing quickly through his nose as he started bucking into his hand.

He came quickly with a muffled moan, most of his stamina already used up from before, and stood there for a moment, leaning his head against the wall and watching his seed swirl down the drain.

After giving himself the time to recuperate, Toris switched the shower off and toweled himself dry. Fighting back a yawn, he stumbled back into the bedroom and slid under the covers next to Alfred. He wormed his way into the sleeping American's arms, which tightened even while he was unconscious, and settled down for the night. He dropped a quick kiss on Alfred's lips, smiling at the way the corners of his mouth twitched up at that.

With his back still throbbing and his heart all but soaring, Toris slept peacefully that night.