Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters. I'm also not making money off of this (And really, who'd actually pay to read this? O_o) so please don't sue.

Warning: Gratuitous use of human names, Unrepentant smut, verbal abuse, light bondage, rimming/felching

Fahrenheit 451 Centigrade J

By Cyrelia J

"Okurete imasu." The door clicks softly behind the tall blonde as he enters the room. The overhead fluorescent lights have been turned off and the only light comes from a tall shoji lamp in the corner of the main room. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust but he sees the seated japanese man immediately. Those dark eyes don't regard him however, instead remaining focused on the book in front of him on the table. Alfred approaches with a flush to his face that may or may not be borne entirely from embarrassment. He's learned to recognize the phrase by now.

"Heh, yeah about that, I-" He trails off absently shifting from one foot to another before taking a few more steps. Right. He's late. No time for pleasantries then.

As the slight figure raises elegantly from the zaisu, the american drops his eyes to the floor, focusing on the woven rushes of the tatami mat. Kiku's feet, covered in tabi like his own make no sound as he circles him. He feels those small, soft- too soft- hands brush over the yukata he wears and he shivers in spite of himself. He feels the feather light caresses over his broad shoulders and feels his heart rate pick up when a slender digit fondles the back of the collar, the soft hairs of his nape standing up at the ghosting touch. He sees two small stockinged feet appear in front of him and it reminds him just how small the other man is. He can feel the silent rebuke when those questing hands stop in front of the hastily and sloppily knotted obi.

"C'mon you gotta help me with this thing! I was supposed to be out of here five minutes ago!"

"Gee what a shame," came the completely unrepentant answer and Alfred had dared a desperate glance to Kumajiro lying on the open air patio outside watching the fireflies..

"Can the fucking bear tie one of these?" he all but screamed and Matthew had only snickered softly before kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth and then heading into the bathroom to shower.

His feet make another guilty shift.

"Ah so- a-ano... gomen-"

"Nihon-sama," comes the patient instruction and in spite of himself, Alfred feels a flush and he answers with a soft correction of "Nihon-sama." As hard as it was to learn he speaks the words with an assimilated ease. Kiku tugs on the loose knot and watches the garment part to reveal more of Alfred's smooth skin. He keeps his eyes trained on the ground and those small, still feet even though his peripheral vision can see the dark head of the nation who he dwarfs by so many inches.

"Belted at the front again like a common whore," he comments, his voice soft as always and the american can't help but flicker his gaze on the almost comical protrusion at the front of the green silk in front of him as he speaks in that slightly accented english.

Japan is large where it counts the most and the blonde nation feels the heat in his face already flowing down to his groin.

"I wonder what the staff must have thought when they saw him walking down the hallway like that." Kiku never addresses him directly. Those small, almost dainty fingers slip the smooth fabric from his shoulders and his body tenses for just a fraction. His muscles tighten and spasm under the scrutiny and with that faint tremor through his body he shifts again to keep his balance, legs parted ever so slightly more than they had been. There's an insidious trickle of thick white fluid down the inside of his left thigh and he whines softly at the tickling sensation.

Kiku moves again and it's as if he can hear the stare and feel that inscrutable gaze on his bare backside.

"Ah, so that is why he was late," he remarks again to himself and Alfred shivers and bites his lip when he feels a finger trace the slick line of semen back to it's source. There's a near silence except for the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears and a barely perceptible thhp as the asian man lets the sticky digit slip from between his lips thoughtfully. "It was Canada then." Japan always knows exactly who it is. His face continues to burn as Kiku speaks, his voice always just above a hush and always so detached. "Is he that desperate for cock that he'll let his own brother have him." Alfred's hands clench and unclench at the running monologue and right as he opens his mouth to speak he feels that finger again this time circle his still wet hole. A whimper claws its way out of his throat as Kiku teases the sensitive opening.

In a rush of breath he pants out something half unintelligible and Kiku eases just the tip of his finger inside Alfred's used passage, pressing him open just enough that more of Canada's cum dribbles down his soft inner thighs. The blonde nation blinks, his focus on the floor blurring. He takes a deep breath but finds that he just can't seem to get his breathing under control.

"It's... it's so big Nihon-sama I couldn't help myself," he "confesses" in a rush, his eyes closing. The darkness disrupts his equilibrium and the room feels like it's spinning when suddenly those too small, too strong hands are on his ass, spreading him wide open.

Through the pounding in his ears he feels rather than sees the lithe asian kneel behind him and he cries out when Kiku laps catlike at the thick gooey mess staining his pale, muscular thighs.

"But never bigger than mine, little cum dumpster," Kiku says with something nearing heat as he moves from the left to the right thigh and Alfred nods fervently, the darkness spinning more wildly out of control and he just has to open his eyes again or he'll drown in the sensation.

"Never. No one is as big as Nihon-sama," he swears, speaking slightly like one of the animated characters in those stupid movies Japan always watches, referring to the other in the 3rd person. America has always been good at pulling other cultures into little pieces of himself like a chameleon against a background of stars and stripes and he feels the heated exhalations from the nation behind him coming faster as he works.

He smiles, where Kiku can't see and brings a finger to his mouth, biting softly when that tongue teases between his spread ass cheeks. Although Kiku cannot see the gesture it's all part of the package and when America puts on a show he never gives less than a hundred percent.

"When the meeting was over... when we went back to our room I... I couldn't stop thinking of Nihon-sama tonight..." His voice is pitched just barely an octave higher and is so slight only one who was listening for it would hear it. He feels those small fingers dig harder into his skin and knows he's been heard. His mouth is dry all of a sudden and he slides that finger between his lips, teasing his tongue and his palette, stimulating his salivary glands. He moans as the other nation continues to tease the rest of the hot white fluid out of him.

"I wanted Nihon-sama so badly I couldn't wait so I... I begged him. I begged aniki to fuck me. I begged him to stick it in...I...I..." it soon turns to "ah...ah..." as Kiku slips his tongue inside Alfred's hole, hypersensitive and yet still so tight even after his brother mercilessly rode him. His hands run over his throat, his head tips back, and he can feel his biceps tense against his chest, the heat pooling painfully in his groin and yet somehow diffused throughout the rest of his body like drug. His legs tremble and he fixes his gaze on the darkened ceiling lights. The words from his own mouth reshape the reality of his brother's eye roll and begrudging indulgence to lusty desire. They metamorphose the American's petulant whining and sophomoric taunts into something more palatable for consumption.

"Please..." he begs, knowing that he's scratching his own skin with raised pink lines. The heat from his body causes a faint beading of moisture on his glasses and the breeze from the mountains outside caresses his hot skin like a lover.

He nearly falls to his knees when he's released and he staggers. As he catches his balance, he feels the hands on his shoulders and in a fluid boneless motion he's forced to the floor with a sharp gasp. Kiku's short, sharp nails dig into his scalp as those slender fingers thread through his damp blonde locks. Alfred doesn't resist as his head is pulled back, his spine arcing like a bow and he finds himself looking up into coal black eyes.

"I like him pliant like this," the japanese man murmurs and leans down terribly slowly. Alfred wets his lips in anticipation even though he knows Japan will never kiss him and he whimpers as their lips stay still but a mere breath away. "Perhaps the gaijin whore will crawl to the bed now," is instead susserrates in a tease to his mouth and the kneeling nation shivers and nods his assent.

He catches himself on on palms as he's unceremoniously released and that damn futon seems like a thousand miles away. Kiku remains behind him, watching and the blonde moves slowly, the fibers of the tatami mat scraping his knees as he crawls. He knows the other's eyes are on his body, his broad muscular shoulders graceful, the corded sinew rippling as he slinks like quicksilver. His fingers curl against the woven mat and his erect cock hangs heavy between his legs. He gasps when he feels another warm trickle and wonders just how much fucking come Matthew has as he nears the unrolled futon. He catches sight of the long thin rope, and all at once the blood pounding in his ears increases. He continues his crawl, exposed, excited, and as he reaches the mattress, he slides onto it and turns around. America lays back on his forearms and looks up, his long legs splayed with a deliberate artfulness and he allows himself a better look at the other nation.

He half expects a camera but instead sees nothing but Japan's hands held up, framing America in his view like a still picture.

"I bet I know what the whore wants... no, no he is not a whore. A whore would want money. Yes, a cock hungry ketsuman like him is nothing but a slut." The lack of expression on Kiku's face used to bother him but he's learned to look beyond the superficial. The way his hands shake when he encapsulates him in that timeless frame, the way his slender chest rises and falls beneath the forest green yukata tells him how much the other nation desires him.

"But it feels so good, Nihon-sama, I can't help myself," he answers, his blue eyes dark with lust as his gaze falls to the ridiculous bulge beneath that outfit. "Onegai~" He shows off another word he's taught himself swearing that half the dialogue of Japan's animated porn is that one word.

Kiku's hands drop and he seems to be considering the request for a moment with genuine weight as if this were more than merely a game and Alfred acts as if he already has his answer. He sits up and turns around kneeling with his wrists crossed behind his back. He can see the moon reflected in his glasses behind him and he wonders for a moment that the lenses really are so thick. He remembers the tale Kiku told him about the rabbit in the moon and as the other moves silently across the floor he forms his own tale. Kiku takes the red length of woven hemp rope and wordlessly begins to loop Alfred's wrists with just enough pressure to delightfully constrict but not injure; America can't touch him this way.

He sighs at the constraint, not too tight, but tight enough and he knows that Japan can work the rope perfectly without the need for knots. Alfred speaks as Kiku works because he can't bear the silence.

"Matt was tired after the meeting so he laid down still wearing his suit." That much is true. He tips his head as if Kiku were kissing neck, and he closes his eyes with a soft flutter letting the darkness swallow up reality. "I couldn't wait..." I didn't even know he was there until I jumped on the bed and heard him swear at me. "So I unzipped his pants when he was asleep. He was soft, but I've sucked so much cock he wasn't soft for long. He's big- not big like Nihon-sama- but big enough in a pinch."

"So help me Al, if you forgot we're sharing a room."

"Is Arthur here?" he asked with an impatient shift of his eyes. He looked at the clock and didn't wait for an answer before shaking his twin's shoulder. "Alright the hell with him. I need a favor bro~.

Japan's hands are gentle and soft as he coils the rope back onto itself and loops around Alfred's front. The long sleeves of the yukata brush the blonde's chest and Kiku continues to work carefully but not intimately. The rope caresses him like a proper lover where Japan does not. He sighs and squirms just so squeezing his legs together tighter feel the head of his swollen cock weep. "He didn't wake up while I sucked him off, and I loved feeling his thick knob filling my mouth-"

"Yes, a good little cockslut," Kiku supplies as he urges Alfred to turn around and lie back against the pillow. The buckwheat makes a faint crackle and he finds a comfortable position where the brunt of his weight isn't on the bound limbs.

He crosses his legs at the ankles and brings his legs to his chest giving a nod. He smiles as he watches Japan bind his ankles to the rest of the rope and he takes another moment to rework reality. The part of Florida that's Disney always helps him beautify his encounters.

"What the hell, Al?"

"C'mon, bro, everyone else is busy and-"

"I am not helping your stunted boyfriend get his rocks off!" He blinks away the distance in his eyes as he continues, watching the light glint off of Kiku's shiny black hair like a crown of stars.

"But I really wanted his cock so bad so I crawled back up and straddled him. And I took it and just let the tip slide in and out and I could feel it getting wetter cause mine does the same thing," his voice is breathy and as if to illustrate his point, the slick clear fluid trickles from his slit.

"For the last time, he's not my boyfriend! ...Just the tip?"

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, the debacle resulting from America's ill fated scheme the other night fresh in his mind. "And you know damn well it's never "just the tip"."

"But it was too much to tease and he was starting to wake up so I sat back and let him sink all the way in and God it felt so good I thought I was gonna go crazy. And then he woke up and his hands were on my hips and he asked if I was gonna fucking move-"

"And I bet the slut fucked himself on that cock shamelessly," Kiku comments as he finishes securing the elaborate binding leaving America totally exposed.

"Fuck yeah," he answers without thinking and whimpers when he feels a hard squeeze to his cock. "Y-yes Nihon-sama."

"Little slut should beg me. He should beg for my cock," Kiku hisses and Alfred moans and whines, feeling his cock throb and leak even more.

"P-please... onegai Nihon-sama... give me your cock. Fuck me, fill me, make me feel it in my fucking throat. Please, god I'll die if you don't give it to me, I swear." And sometimes he really believes that's true and it's only now that he sees Kiku smile and part the folds of the yukata as if he's unwrapping the best present ever.

As the obscene eleven inches in revealed, Alfred finds himself panting and squirming wondering if he'll be allowed to kiss it. Sometimes it tastes like silicone and sometimes it tastes like strawberry milkshake but it always softens just enough inside his hot mouth and slides down his throat so easily he could suck it all day. The ropes dig in as if begging him to be still. Kiku puts a hand on Alfred's right knee and then teases his opening with the massive head. The blonde bites his lip and feels his cock throb when Japan whispers softly,

"Such a dirty slut, begging me to take him with his brother's seed still leaking out of his passage." But America knows he loves it. Kiku teases him further, pushing in halfway- Alfred's gotten good at knowing just how much is in- and pulling out again, the shallow thrusts maddening. He tries so hard to bear down just a little more, any little millimeter extra, the movement of his abdominal muscles making his cock twitch and leak even more.

"His greedy little hole wants my cock just as badly as he does," Kiku pants and finally lets that monster slide in so easily, and Alfred only wishes they were in front of a mirror so he could watch that small tight pucker distended by the thick shaft. His hands beneath him clench helplessly at the bedding when Kiku's other hand finds his left knee and practically bends him in half as he seats himself fully with a soft moan.

His muscles spasm and he can feel himself clench tightly around the invader and God he feels so full it's almost too much. The hardness inside of him curves with his inner walls and as he trembles around the invader he can feel his every nerve brushed and teased and especially right there where it makes his cock ache so good. If it wasn't for the damn taste he'd never even know it wasn't Japan's own flesh that claims him. Alfred asked him once if they could have sex with his real cock; he never asked again. This is far better he thinks to himself as Kiku pulls nearly all the way out and slams in brutally. Perhaps he wasn't born with it but he wields it like a master and Alfred cries out as short nails dig into the skin over his knees and the other nation fucks him hard.

"Slut, slut, beg me, little gaijin slut... Kiku chants and Alfred struggles to remember to breathe, his body covered with a sheen of sweat as he feels the tireless cock pounding into him.

"Fuck yes, please more cock more cock... Nihon-sama.. loveyourcock love it love it..." Canada is big but Japan is bigger. Japan is always bigger and harder and America keens a whine in his throat as Kiku rocks into him like a fucking machine, tossing his head back and forth hearing the hard slap against his ass and the string of filth pouring forth from the nation who never uses contractions in his english.

"Yesss... take it all slut, scream like a bitch, my bitch, filthy little cock slut..." And Alfred screams for him on command, the tears leaking from his eyes as the physical sensations become too much to bear. All at once he's hyper aware of every rough thrust, of the fibers rubbing his chest and wrist, the little beads of buckwheat against his back, his slick cock slapping against his tense stomach, precome pooling on his quivering abdomen and the bruising fingers on his knees. They're joined by only three points of contact but any more would be absolutely unbearable and he knows that one would be swallowed up by the other.

"Harder... god harder... more..." It's so hard to think but he forces the learned language to the forefront of his mind, a cry of "matta... matta... onegai..." and fuck if he doesn't sound like one of those weird little pretty boys in Japan's DVDs but it's exactly what the other nation needs to hear and he feels a few final desperate shoves and then hot seed filling him. "Nihon-sama..." he practically sobs, the other's pace only slowing for that brief moment, because even if Kiku's dick is soft, the hollow construct surrounding it isn't and he sees something flicker in those black eyes as he feels the cum being fucked out of him -one day he'll have the nerve to ask just how that thing works- and hears the squelch and sees the other's eyes totally on their joining and that singular focus arouses him almost as much as the act itself.

"Come," Japan commands, his voice the same hush, the same near indifferent whisper as it's been the entire time and America feels that unbearable heat erupt all at once through his every nerve. His body is taught and he can feel the muscles in his legs contract in their bindings, his toes curling, his back arching while his hips push up and he feels as if he's going to break while the warm pulses of fluid splash his stomach, his chest, and fuck if he doesn't come so hard that he can taste it on his own lips. His nipples peak, the feel of the ropes brushing them too much, Japan's cock is too much and he's sure his screams can be heard throughout the entire hotel as those millions of electrical pulses surge through him all at the same time before converging in one maddening dying frenzy.

He doesn't realize that Kiku has moved until he sees him kneeling back, neatly put away, his hands framing him again: picture perfect.