When the night grows cold, Canada feels that his bed is just too big for him alone. He wishes that America will fill the huge gap and the empty void in his heart too, although he knows that it is impossible.
Sometimes he leaves his room and goes over to America's, peering through the crack in the door. He watches his brother, asleep, staring at the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Sometimes, he returns to his room and tries to sleep. Sometimes, he hugs Kumajirou and pretends that he's America. Most of the time, he stays at the doorway, watching until the sun rises.
When he returns to his room, he remembers that one night, that one forbidden night when he crept into America's room.
America's eyes were closed, the look on his face was serene and peaceful, his glasses placed by his bed side. Canada's fingers ghosted over his jaw, fingertips trailing down his neck, then lower, across his chest, then to the waistband of his pajamas.
Taking a deep breath, Canada removed his brother's pajama bottoms. His eyes widened slightly as he touched his brother's length, stroking and soon, it was hard against his soft palm. America let out a soft moan as Canada leaned forward, taking a tentative lick and a breathy sigh escaped his brother's lips as Canada continued flicking his tongue over the appendage, teasing the leaking slit.
America's hips bucked forward, thrusting into Canada's mouth. Canada's eyes widened as he nearly gagged, but he took his brother's length in anyway, sucking, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin. America moaned again, this time, it sounded almost intelligible, but for a moment, it sounded as if it was a word to Canada. No, not a word, it was probably a name... Canada's lips left America as he cupped a hand across his brother's mouth - he didn't want to know who it was that America was pretending to be with - muffling his cries as he straddled America, fingers encircling his brother's length when his hips jerked forwards, reminding Canada of his own arousal.
Biting his lips, Canada lowered himself on to his brother's lap, desperately grinding his hips against his erection. The friction felt so good, it was infinitely better than the pleasure his hand could give him and he rocked his hips forward, rubbing faster as America writhed underneath him, making incoherent sounds against his brother's hand, clutching at the bedsheets.
"America," the word was torn from Canada's lips as he went over the edge, bringing America with him, panting heavily.
When Canada's breathing returned to normal, he panicked, thinking of the sticky mess in between his legs. America moaned, shifting in his sleep and not knowing what to do, Canada got off the bed and licked America's seed off his thighs and length, almost forgetting to dress his brother before slipping out of his room, feeling guilty and strangely satisfied at the same time.
In the morning, Canada scrubbed furiously at his pajamas, trying to remove the stains. America had looked at him and smiled, asking if he had yet another accident. Canada's cheeks flushed crimson as he avoided his brother's gaze.
Some part of Canada wishes America knew the truth about that night. The rest of him feels better knowing that he doesn't, because he knows that America doesn't give a damn about him, while he cares too much.
When the night grows cold, America tosses and turns in his bed, feeling as if the bed is too big for him alone. He wishes that Canada will fill the huge gap and the empty void in his heart as he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. But when his heart throbs and tears threaten to fall, he replays that night in his mind.
Sometimes he jerks off to it. Sometimes he tries to think of something else to take his mind off it. Sometimes he cries. Most of the time, he looks at the door and wishes that Canada will come through it once more.
a/n: cross posted on the kink meme. am suddenly filled with love for this pairing. anyway, merry christmas and reviews will be lovely as presents!