Not the same!
Summary: America masturbates while thinking of Russia. Then just when he's about to come, England walks in on him. Sex ensues, and America is thinking of Russia the whole time.
Pairings: UKUS, implied AmeRus/RusAme and FrUk/UkFr.
Rated M for explicit sex and masturbation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or its characters.
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Alfred has a secret. A secret he would like to pretend it doesn't exist and carry on with his live but he can't. He can't do it because he tasted heaven. He can't because the little time he had with the Russian country was enough to make him addicted. He can't because he is still infatuated, still attracted and still in love with the Russia personification. The representation of the United States of America loves his major enemy and that's shameful, sinful, just wrong.
His boss would be scared to death, the other countries would differ from edges, England would be hurt and Russia would think he is lying. If he wasn't so aware of this he would say it, he would try again and forget the betrayal and hateful years that stepped between them but he is well aware and that hurts.
After the hateful cold war he came on terms that the feeling he had once for said nation had come to life, -yes he hated the Russian on the edge of the cold war but said Russian was a different person during that time of their lives. He was colder and cruel, not the same shy and cute Russia he once knew, not the same man who would receive a sunflower and blush furiously while hiding a huge smile on his scarf. America missed that man; he craved him and longed for him more than he will ever admit even on his own head.
Of course he changed, they all changed with the wars, but Russia is back, he is not that cold and cruel again. He is childishly adorable, shyly cute, smug and competitive with a hint of mystery around him. How america misses him.
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They were all in America, a meeting that had a pool party, his own courtesy of course. They needed fun to keep them from having a break down. Greece seamed to enjoy most than everyone because crisis hit him hard but the others accepted it gladly.
England came to him with flushed cheeks and asked if they could sleep on the same room. America simply nodded and wondered where the French pervert is when he needs him.
Then he saw Russia.
Russia with his scarf in place but he was wearing boxers and a tight shirt, as Belarus clang to his arm for dear life. Why was she here? No one knows she must have followed him.That made America smile.
England said something but he simply stared with longing at the pale flesh, broad shoulders and slight pudgy and cuddly belly. His hot tights flexed when he moved as a wide smile grew on the pearl lips. America knows how much he enjoys seeing everyone so nice and friendly. He wished he was near him and not on the other side making his boxers become a bit uncomfortable.
Russia waved to him and he waved back, noticing on the corner of his eye a glaring Belarus. He knows everything changed, he knows they won't be together but he also knows that man is the one who should be on his side at night and not England. He sighed and turned to England with a small fake grin. He won't notice, no one does, and he's a natural actor but is aware that Russia can read him like an open book.
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America ate with England, Canada and France ignoring the usual spat of words between the European nations while glancing to the table where Russia ate and talked softly with his sister.
When America finished eating he walked back earlier to his room, the room he shares with his boyfriend, as the rest kept eating and talking about the party.
Why did he accept dating the British man? Because he just can't see him suffering for him. The man tried so hard and was so sad when he rejected him that he ended accepting just to see him happy. He even tried to see him as boyfriend, he truly did, but he can't. At least he doesn't forces sex… They do it only once in a while.
He stepped into the room and closed the door.
How he wanted to do this since he saw Russia on the pool party, how he needs it!
He took off his clothes, it's a hot day and he won't need them, and then lay on the soft cushions.
He started thinking about how soft the pale skin of the Russian is, how his purple eyes look darker when lustful, how his muscles flex when he bends and his member was already half hard. He wished the Russian had stepped into the pool just to see his body wet with little drops of water running through his skin.
He started caressing his own chest imagining Russia's broad chest instead of his; Russia's nipples getting perky and Russia soft tiny hairs on his hand. He imagined how he would kiss that chest and bit the perky nipples, he imagined the soft moans that Russia would give while he went lower, and lower, grabbing that round and firm ass. Russia would be rock hard and needy and Alfred would blow cold air on the big shaft making Russia whimper in need.
His hand grabbed his erection firmly and started stroking, up, down, pump again and circle head, feels member twitching thinking how Russia would blush and rush him. Pumps harder.
He would work slowly on his big member; he would lap and open-mouthed kiss the side where a pulsing hot vein was swollen and then suck only the tip while listening the breathless groan Russia would give, because he knows Russia doesn't moans when needy, he grunts and whines deep on his throat.
He would swallow him and move his mouth up and down the shaft helping with his hands where he doesn't makes it and Russia would grab his hair and pull him from a bruising kiss that would make them switch positions. Russia is impatient, so is America.
The hand on his rock hard member starts pumping faster and desperately, the other hand helps and grabs his balls making him moan and buck onto that hands that should be Russia's hands.
Russia would start licking and biting his neck and collar, wet his nipples and play with them with his hands as his mouth moves to his inner tights and bites them wetly.
He would lick his erection only once to make him a panting mess and America would trash and whimper. A knowing smirk on Russia's face grows and his shaft starts being lapped with a skilled tongue as bangs fall on the Russian eyes.
America can feel the heat growing on his lower belly; it grows and keeps growing, the Russian sensual mental image not leaving his mind.
Russia would ask for the lube and only then suck the tip of his member while coating his fingers. He would work the fingers and swallow his shaft at the same time; America would want more and more as the proper place was hit again and again by those big fingers.
America can feel himself close as he rushed the thoughts of the Russian on his head, his hands are jerking with desperation and perspiration rolling on his forehead and body. The room filled with soft noises and pants as he keeps stroking his member but he only listens to his frenetic heartbeat and the accented voice on his head.
When the Russian enters inside him he can feel them as one, he makes him feel complete and full. The Russian starts moving and he can feel him aiming for that spot.
America is so close, so close; only a bit more!
-Creaks-
The door open and he looks up to the blushing face of his wide-eyed boyfriend.
He manages to push a pillow to his rock hard cock and flush even more.
''I, I…'' he starts but England cuts him with a cough on the hand and a door clicking shut.
''If you wanted to do that you could ask me…. '' he flushes even more and America feels guilty as he watches England walk to his side on the bed.
''I would gladly help you.'' England flushes and sits on their bed making a dread feeling pass through America for a second.
'''Yeah, I was kinda horny, teen hormones … you get that.'' he mumbled laughing with a slight jitters edge but England doesn't notice that. His own mind only taking the panting flushed blond on their bed.
England bites his lip and smirks to him ''Do you want help?''
America feels guilt growing on his chest but he is still hard under the pillow and takes a breath before murmuring ''I would like that…''
England kisses him softly, too soft, even when he nibbles on his lip he thinks he his not as soft as Russia can be. He prefers it hard though but he won't tell it to England, he would never be as rough and hard as Russia can be either.
England crawls to the bed and bites his neck, America takes the pillow on their middle and feels England lowering himself and grinding his slowly hardening member against him, not hard enough, not big enough.
America moans softly and feels the man above him taking his coat, tie and shirt. Summer clothes-, he prefers Russia's summer clothes, the soft scarf always there. He likes to play with the scarf and enjoy how Russia blushes when he does that.
America feels England biting and touching his chest with his lean calloused hands, and can smell his hair; it smells like rain and tea. How he wished it smelled like pine, snow and vodka musk with a hint of sunflowers somehow hiding the chamomile natural scent.
England's hands are not enough, they do not get everywhere, and they do not touch him like Russia's big hands would. These hands make him feel too big, too fat; he doesn't want to think about it when they grab his erect cock.
England is stroking him as he takes his pants and shorts; they make it quick, only a few times slow. He prefers the slow times with Russia where the Russian caressed and worshipped his body as a treasure or even the quickest ones in the janitor's closet where they would be passionate, grind and rut like animals on heat. England is too proper for that. He prefers to think that he never heard how England does those things with France in a more passionate way. He should feel jealous be he can't. He never felt jealous of England but he is jealous when he talks to or about Russia though.
England leans and takes his member on his mouth, wet sounds coming from him and America tries not to buck because it feels good. Yes, down there it does feel good, but it's not the same, it doesn't crawl into his head like a disease as Russia would, he doesn't makes him feel the intensity Russia made him feel with a single touch and that saddens America.
England can take him all, Russia can't but he can't move his tongue like Russia can, he can't make him lose control as Russia can.
America bites his lip as his eyes stung a bit and he stays still as he feels a lubed finger on his rear caressing and teasing his puckered entrance. England finally moves the finger in and he sighs looking down for the first time since they began that act. He sees England, his father figure, his big brother, the man he aspired to be one day until he decided he could be better. How he wishes it was Russia there.
He feels heavy on his mind and a bit pleasure on his lower regions and shifts his line of vision to the ceiling. He prefers watch the ceiling and imagine Russia than look down and see how he is lying to England.
America could switch positions, England asks for it sometimes but he won't, he prefers it like this. America knows he losses control of his strength during the act and when they do it he truly watches his strength but England ends always hurt… an aching ass, a twisted arm or leg etc., he knows Russia can take him gladly and even ask for more.
Two fingers are in and a third enters, it stings a bit and his muscles try to push him off. He wants to laugh, Russia needs to putt four fingers to stretch him and his body doesn't reject him as much.
''Feeling good huh?'' England teases and he nods, he must have chuckled.
A sudden wave of pleasure hits him making his cock twitch and he gasps, England keeps hitting that place and he feels England take his fingers out of him. He whimpers a bit at the lost, he knows if it was with Russia he would wine and rush him though.
England kisses him again, his tongue prods and he opens his mouth responding to the kiss. Never sweet, competitive or passionate as with Russia. America realises that this wrong in so many ways but suddenly he feels England rubbing his erection on his rear and he opens his legs pushing his hips up to help, trying not to think about that.
England enters in one motion. He his lubed and slippery, America doesn't know when that happened too. England waits and all America can think is how Russia would enter slowly making him feel every inch. With England it feels uncomfortable and stings a bit, with Russia is slightly painful until he relaxes. He prefers that initial pain, it feels more real.
England is little above him, he holds America but almost can't, Russia would hold him as if he was a ragged doll. Russia would make love to him in many positions because he can hold both as America can also hold both. England can't hold both and that makes him feel heavier, fatter, uglier, disgusting and bitter.
England starts moving and prodding until he hits his prostate in every motion, America gasps as his member starts growing hard again and digs his nails into his back but removes when he looks into England's face and sees pain. Russia would be glad for that nails, he would take him harder and make him feel his weight above him. He misses his weight, how it makes him feel little and protected.
''America, Am I hurting you?'' England goes slowly and looks at him with concerned green eyes.
''Nope, why?'' Is he crying? No, he's not… why did he stop? It was feeling nice, jut not enough, not enough to make it fantastic and incredible as it was with Russia. Never the same intensity or even close to the pleasure Russia made him feel once.
''You eyes looked wet and you made a pained face… If I hurt you tell me, don't be prideful!'' England frowns and he wants to laugh so he chuckles a bit and kisses his cheek.
''Keep going, but harder.''
He wants to laugh because he scowls him even on bed; he wants to laugh because Russia would never continue if he showed a pained face, he wants to laugh because he wants to cry. It's wrong, oh so wrong… and it hurts.
England rushed his pace until he stirs and comes inside him, he doesn't feel that, it doesn't reach his mind or body.
It feels distant, the tensing body and hands gripping tighter on his dick tell him that England is finished but he doesn't find the will to care much. England cares though and keeps jerking him but he can't come, not yet, not enough… With Russia he is the first one to come and even achieves the second orgasm in one round.
England looks up to him and he smiles a bit shakily, England pulls himself out of him and he helps England pumping him.
He comes minutes later with their both bare hands on his erect dick, England lips on his throat and his mind on Russia's ass in those tight pants he wore at the meeting before the party.
They collapse side by side and England finally asks ''What's wrong?''
America wants to tell him, he does, but if he did he would admit he just fucked with his own brother, that he is in love with his enemy and that his chest hurts so much that not even the fucking crisis can make it hurt more as it does with the others.
When he feels arms around him he notices he started to cry and sits hugging his legs.
He could say it now… He wants… but…
He prefers to go for the easiest way, never about him but about the others. It's easier and less painful.
''I know you cheated on me with France…'' England looked mortified but guilt was on his face too, America finds that he is glad that it was true and finally has a reason to end it all.
''It was a mistake; the bloody frog took advantage when I was drunk… I...'' England tries but can't say more. Even America can see the exposed lie.
''I'm sorry America, I really am... please… it was just once…''
''Do you love him?'' America looks at England who looks too thoughtful for his own good.
''I only want you… please America…'' 'Ah, you're tired of trying with him... I wished I could try again with Russia, You selfish bastard' America thinks bitterly.
''I want to break up.'' America says suddenly and England froze panicking.
''I swear I'm over him, please don't do this!''
''I don't love you England…''
'You're not enough, not the same! You're not big, funny, stargazer, sunflower lover, vodka lover, hot, Russian… you're not him… you'll never be him…this was a mistake and we both know it.' he wants to say but he closes his eyes and places his head on his legs. He can't bear the hurt on England's face. He can't bear to know he is the reason it's there. A Hero doesn't hurt people; America only wants to help, not hurt.
England shifts and looks devastated mouth gaping for a few seconds. ''I thought… but… I love you…''
''Not as you love France am I right?'' 'Please, let me be right this once.' he begs and England looks at him in surprise, he must never think about that possibility, it's probably true then… America feels his guilt diminishing somehow at that.
''America, don't say that… it's different…''
''You can't love both England, you don't love me…'' 'As I don't love you'
''America… I do….''
''I don't… I'm sorry…''
England looks about to cry and he goes to the bathroom, he doesn't want to go back. He is finally free to long for Russia.
He is free to stop feel that craving guilt suffocating him.
When he returns to the bed, there's a note saying England will be staying in another room.
Next morning Canada tells him England slept in France's room. He finds that he is surprisingly glad for it. France is his comfort as much his enemy and everyone knows it. He wonders why he haven't realised it before. He was probably too busy feeling guilty.
No more lies, no more half-truths, no more guilt.
Russia slept alone, always alone. Always outsider as America is. Now he can feel free to look at him, to want him, lust and long for him. He wished he could be loved by him but he won't force time or luck.
His own eyes take a hard edge of tiredness and he decides he needs a time away from everyone. He knows he will be still thinking about Russia though and that makes him smile as he hasn't for a long time.
.X
Russia looked at America, he looks so sad with England. Why his with him? He doesn't know and he shouldn't care but his heart aches when he sees them with their little special relationship. It aches more when America has his blue beautiful eyes filled with sadness. He should be free, no one can catch America. He is a free soul that deserves to be treasured and independent from all the restrains of the world. England should know that. He knows that and he prefers to see him free and happy than stuck somewhere where he would be limited.
When he sees him free from restrains and with his life filled blue eyes shinning again as the sky on a summer's day he smiles truthfully, as only the blond can make him smile. America is back.
Ah, America, land of the free. You truly deserve to be free and untamed, it makes you beautiful.
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After Notes: I filled this on the kink meme and am de-anoning because I want to change a few things and correct a few mistakes… The tittle changed 'cause now I had time to think properly about it *facepalms*
My other 'old' fills will keep anon though. Yes its been a while, months, since I fill something or post on the kink meme but I wanted to re-write this so badly that it couldn't leave my mind. (I'm that obsessive.)*
[*it's the second time I do this... I'm sorry but this was a quick one and I want to make it at least proper (its a personal fill for me too so...). I was not satisfied at all with the post I made there. -I'll try not to de-anon my fills again.-
If you want to see the really big and majestic changes I made It's here: hetalia-kink . livejournal . ?thread=6518999#t6518999 ; just remove the spaces. I only want to say that this really needed... So bear with me... It was my own fill so I guess its okay to do this... :/]
I apologise any mistake.
Thank you for reading.