{Warmth}

{By: BrokenComatose}

A/N: Hey, everyone! It's me, again. I bet you're getting tired of seeing me...heh. Yeah, another PruLiet story~.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, don't own Hetalia.

Pairing: Prussia/Liet. Non-con RusLiet.

Rating: A very Hard T.

Summary: Sometimes a little warmth is all one needs.

Dedicated to: My lovely beta that edited this for me.

Warmth.

That was the first thing the still half-asleep Lithuanian's mind registered when he opened his eyes slightly. He shifted, trying to figure out exactly where it was coming from. Maybe, it was from the few extra blankets he had piled on to the bed last night.

Or, it was probably coming from the arm that was wrapped around his waist; an arm that belonged to an albino Prussian man that had moved in with him a few months ago.

Toris yawned quietly and turned on to his other side, pressing his face gently into the crook of Gil's neck, inhaling quietly. He would never admit it-not even to himself-but there was something about the odd mixture of Prussia's cologne and that soft scent of bread that always seemed to be there that comforted him.

He blushed a little when Gilbert tighten the arm he had around his waist even though he knew the albino couldn't see it. He shifted again, a little nervous this time.

Calm down, Toris. This is Prussia. Not...him.

A few days ago, the smaller nation would have shied away from any contact with anyone. It hurt Prussia, he could tell, but he just couldn't.

A few days ago, Lithuania had his first run in with Russia since he and Gilbert had gotten together.

"Ah...Lithuania~."

The brunette man froze, one hand on the door and one hand in a pocket of the hoodie he had taken from Prussia earlier that morning. He tried not to shake as he felt a cold hand on his shoulder; one that soon turned him, pressing his back to the wall slightly.

"H-Hello...M-Mr. Russia..."

Lithuania winced internally at the quiver in his voice, hoping it went unnoticed.

"Hello, Toris~. You are doing well, da?" Russia smiled down at the man he currently had pressed to the wall, slowly turning and situating his hands so they had him caged between them.

Lithuania nodded, shaking a little. This earned him a smile, but also a hand clenched tightly in his hair.

"This hoodie looks very familiar...but it is not your's, correct?"

The hand in his hair tightened and tugged once, tilting his head up and back slightly.

"N-Nie...n-no, it's not..."

The Russian man leaned a llittle closer, once more tightening his hand. "You will tell me who it belongs to, da?"

Toris winced slightly and tried to stop the shaking of his body. "I-It's...Prussia's..."

A press harder into the wall by a cold hand made Liet cry out quietly due to the pressure.

"Prussia?" A low growl escaped Ivan's throat. Leaning closer so his lips almost touch the smaller man's, he demanded, "And why are you wearing his clothing?"

His throat closed up as he began to shake a little more, but managed to choke out a response. "I-I just...g-grabbed it this morning..."

There was no verbal response. The only response was a tightening of a hand, a large body pressing against his tightly and a harsh mouth on his.

Liet's initial response was to struggle, but a hand pressing to a stomach stopped that almost immidiately. A sharp bite at his bottom lip made him gasp quietly in pain, which allowed Russia the entrance he had wanted.

The brunnette knew by now if he just went limp, Ivan would eventually give up and leave.

He was surprised when then hand pressing to his stomach moved and slid under his shirt, making him shudder on instinct. This was new, and it was starting to scare him a little more than usual.

A tongue also soon pressed against his, trying to make him respond. When he didn't, Russia growled again lowly and pulled away. Without missing a beat, he jerked the side of Toris's uniform and the red hoodie to the side, biting down on the Lithuanian's shoulder hard.

As Toris cried out and arched into him slightly, the blonde man continued to bite, leaving a mark he was certain would stay for days. Once he was done, he pulled away, smiling at the shaking Lithuanian.

"...you will always belong to Russia, da?"

A small pat to his cheek that he was certain was a slap more than a pat, and Ivan was gone.

"...why the hell are you shaking so hard in the morning?"

The familiar German accent, laced with sleep, jolted Liet from the memory.

"...j-just...remembering things is all..."

A mix of jumbled English and German, followed by a sigh had Toris's head under the other's chin and the Prussian's hand lightly tracing a hand over his back.

"That bastard will never get a hold of you again, dammit..."

With those words, and the steady warmth, not cold, warmth from the arm and hand on him lured Liet back to sleep.