Why?

Seriously, why?

Why, he knows so well he'll end up here.

He risked everything he has fought for the recent month when de decided to wait for the ship. Over time he had learned how to do that without his crew noticing. And like usual the man came, looted his ship and took him as a prisoner.

Spain leaned his head against the wall. He was wounded, his clothes drowned with blood, with his hands tied up behind his back. How long have he been here now? When was the man going to stop sending one of his men instead of come himself?

When steps was heard he turned his head towards the door. Guilt. He felt guilt, to come here intentionally, and once he was home again he would be seen as a hero that had escaped the notorious mans ship.

The door was closed behind the man, who stood in the light from the oil lamp he was holding. Spain's heart skipped a beat. The illusion was perfect. The man was wearing black boots, grey pants, a thick brown belt where he had tied down both his sword and gun, a white shirt that was unbutton so one could see his chest. Over that he had a red coat with simple details in black and gold. On his head he hat his hat that cast a shadow over the green eyes.

If he wanted, Spain could stop stare at him. But that's just it, if he wanted to. What he wanted was to feel that blond hair between his fingers, to feel the skin under the clothes.

"I have become accustomed to see you here, Antonio" the man said and put the lamp on a barrel.

"Arthur" was all Spain could form his mouth to say.

Mentally he prepared himself for the pain.

That's why.

Everything for a little time as a prisoner on England's ship. All Spain could feel was his desire for the pirate in front on him, England smirked as he come closer.

Oh, how he hated that man.

England carefully took the strips that once where Spain's shirt. Each time his fingers touch his bare skin made him shudder. England inspected the wounds on Spain's torso and then he let a finger wander over Spain's chest, nipple to nipple, down over his stomach and over each wound.

"You are so beautiful."

Spain tuned his head away from England. What he really said was "Your mine, all mine", and Spain hated the truth in that. Suddenly he was pressed against the wall behind him, staring in to those green eyes again.

"Isn´t that right, Antonio?"

Spain responded by leaned forward, pressing his lips against England's. He could feel England smirk and hands that sneaked behind his back. The rope that held Spain's wrists fell off and his hands started to roam over England's chest, back and hair, causing the hat to fell off. He opened his mouth and was invaded by England's tongue.

Hate. No, love. Yes, hate. Maybe?

Spain got the coat off England, but he let the shirt stay on. His torso was full of scares, and he kissed them all. He could feel England's mouth on his neck, kissing, sucking, biting. He let his tong slip from the neck to his collar bone. His hands unbuttoned his pants and began to play with his already hard member. Spain whined and buried his face in England's neck. He could feel him laugh.

Doesn't matter, he thought as he felt England's scent. Forest, ocean, gunpowder, rum and possibly tea. He lifted up his head and looked at England.

"What?" the voice was hard, annoyed.

"You smell slightly of trees, like a forest." Spain said, quite surprised. England smirked.

"So good."

He stopped play with Spain's member, but he kept his hand there and kissed him again. Exploring Spain's mouth.

"How would you like it?" he asked as he broke the kiss. Spain looked at him. These moments weren't gentle, never where.

"Does it matter?"

England smirked and put three fingers in his mouth. Spain started to stroke England's clothed member.

England watched him amused for a while, before he pulled Spain's pants down to his knees. Spain breathed heavily, preparing himself for the pain as England pushed in one finger, and a second one shortly after that. He started scissoring for a minute or so and added the third finger.

Spain watched him all the time. His hair fell over his eyes, making them look darker. He looked so focused on what he was doing. He took the fingers out and unbuttoned his own pants, pulling them down to his thighs. Mumbled something, he shook his head as he positioned himself, so that the hair for a moment or two left his eyes and in the light from the oil lamp next to them they looked brighter.

England thrusted into Spain, making him gasp. England smirked at him, he always did that, before pulling out and thrust back in again, not caring about the noises of pain and displeasure Spain was making. They would soon disappear anyway. He found a steady rhythm, hitting Spain's prostate over and over again. All the time he watched down on Spain with that smirk on his lips.

Pain mixed up with pleasure passed through his body. He loved it, and the man who was doing this to him was beautiful, so beautiful. He was still pressed against the wall, and he wrapped his arms around him. The noises he now was making was completely out of pleasure

"Arthur..."

England's hand made circles on Spain's chest, causing him to shiver, and he let the hand wander down over his stomach, grabbing his member. Spain let out a low moan as England started to stroke his member as to his thrust. England watched him twisting, gasping and groan, before he leaned over and kissed him.

"Antonio, come for me" he whispered and with a long moan Spain realized himself in England's hand and all over their stomachs. England continued to thrust a few times before he came inside Spain.

That's why. It was worth everything for these moments, to feel England's skin, hear his voice. To see the happiness in his eyes when Spain came. He was a pirate, his enemy. He was a strange man, but what does that matter?

Afterwards he fell into England's arms, just like he leaned on Spain for support. And they stayed like that until he felt England reach out for the rope and once again tied up Spain's hands behind his back. He pulled up and buttoned both his and Spain's pants. Spain breathed heavy as he watched England wipe off the seed on him and Spain with one of the strips that once where a shirt. He gave Spain a final smirk as he took his coat and hat on, and button his shirt.

Spain smiled for himself as England turned around and left him there. Together with the oil lamp.

Spain sat up. He was in bed in a hotel room. It was early, very early, and somehow he knew most people wasn't up yet. It was in another time, and a world meeting was going to be hold. Nothing unusual about that.

It had been a dream of times gone by, the people in it had changed so much one wouldn't recognize them. And it had left him awake, warm, sweaty and aroused. He decided to ignore it, he would not fall for that again, so he got out of bed and took on some clothes. And went down for breakfast. The corridors where empty and the first few people he saw was already in the cafeteria. He ordered and got his food, before he looked for someone he knew. He didn't want to eat alone after all.

England was one of them.

Spain felt his heart race when he saw him. Stupid dream, those moments ended so long ago. He stood there and stared, before he walked over to him. He put his food down and sat in the chair opposite him. England looked up from the newspaper he was reading while eating his own breakfast and drinking his tea.

"Ah, Antonio. You are up early" he said and smiled.

"Si, my dream ended" he said cheerfully, but England didn't miss the hardness in his eyes.

The rest of the breakfast they talked about everything and nothing at all. People dropped in now and then, bit no one seemed to give them much attention. One of the subjects they were talking about was a book England had in his room that Spain wanted to borrow.

England's room is the same as Spain's. Antonio stood in the middle of the room while England was looking for the book in his suitcase.

"Oi! Antonio, what was your dream about?" he heard England ask.

" ¿Que?" that was something he absolutely not was going to tell him of all people. Him and France.

"Your dream, that ended." England smirked. It wasn't mean, not like it used to, but it took Spain back in time. Maybe he should tell him.

"I dreamt of you, as a pirate. I was a prisoner on your ship and you went to visit me. The dream ended when you left."

He was surprised he didn't blush. He had practically admit a sex dream to someone who was in it. To someone else what he said didn't mean so much, and nobody would bother to ask what happened during the visit (well France would), but England knew what happened during those visits, he was there. He looked rather chocked at first. But then he smirked again, like the pirate he once were.

"Did you now?"

They where going to be late. Spain kept telling himself that. Very late.

But it didn't matter. Everything that matter was England's kisses. Wandering from his jaw, down to his neck where he left a red mark that was going to be hard to hide. Spain lay on his back on the bed with England on top of him. Their jackets was on the floor, England had loosened his tie and Spain was unbuttoned his shirt. As soon as the shirt was off he touched every inch of the exposed skin. England kissed him while playing with his hair. He gasped as Spain placed wet kisses along his neck, down over his chest. In some way he managed to switch places so he was on top. He kissed every scare on England's torso, he played with his nipple, licked and sucked and left red marks here and there. England watched him the hole time, rewording him with gasp, shivers and moans. Spain sat up and took off his shirt, that had been unbuttoned from the start, and the t-shirt he had under. England's hands moved up and down over Spain's stomach and he sat up he too just to reach around his back. He kissed Spain's collar bone and let his tongue slip down to his left nipple, causing Spain to gasp. He switch nipple, sucked on it before letting go and pulled Spain down to a kiss. He licked Spain's lips for entrance and when he got it, he explored his mouth.

Spain was on the bed again, England on top of him working of getting of both pants and underwear's. He played with the member, let one finger stroke back and forth, before he let it slip into his mouth. Spain gasp. Of anything, he was not prepared for that.

England sucked and licked it, letting more and more down his throat. His hands was on Spain's hip, forcing him to stay down. But then one hand went down to play with his ball sack. Spain moaned and grabbed England's hair as he felt the pleasure built in his stomach.

England let go of his member with a small 'pop'. Spain made a sound of disappointment and England kissed him again.

It was so different. If it had been someone else he would have sounded more, laughed more, demanded more. But not with England. It was more about to feel every inch of him, keeping his mouth busy kissing and tasting him. England could do whatever he wanted, and Spain only begged when he was told to. It didn't matter.

England reach out for the lube that lay on the bed next to him. How did it get there?

He took some on his fingers and thrust them into Spain. He let get used to have them their before he started scissoring. Spain breathed heavy when the fingers was removed, and he could feel England move and he catch his eyes before he thrusted into Spain. He wasn't as gentle as he was before, quickly finding a steady rhythm. Spain moaned and watched him the hole time, remembering why it was worth it. Those moments on the ship with this man. He had missed them. England bend over him for a kiss, which Spain deepened and only broke to let out a long moan when England hit his prostate. England smirked, and made sure to hit there again. His hand found Spain's member, captured between their stomach and he stroke it in time to his thrusts.

As Spain was getting closer to the edge, he force his eyes open. England was as always watching him, and as he came in England's hand, over their stomachs, he could see the happiness in England's eyes. It was a strange happiness, not at all like the was he had seen in England's eyes outside sex.

England came short after, filling him up. He pulled out and rolled over so he laid next to him.

It was worth it. It was worth it. It was worth it.

He could feel England cuddle closer, wrapping one arm around him, with his head on his chest.

Spain smiled and started playing with England's hair.

The meeting was so boring. It took forever and it was hard not to look in England's way all the time. And when it finally ended he could see England talk to France. Of course he didn't know what they talked about, but he'd known France long enough to guess. Spain looked at them. He had said no to go out with France and Prussia after the meeting, and he started to regret it. If he was with France, he at least could be sure on that England wasn't.

Everything was going to get back to normal, he knew that. But he had hoped that during the days the meeting was going to be hold, England would be his, only his.

Suddenly England meet his gaze. He smirked and said something to France. And the two of them started walk towards Spain.

"Ah, my dear Spain, are you sure your not going out with us?" France asked.

"Si, I'm sure" he said, trying not to look at England the entire time. He was still smirking.

France looked at him, then burst out in a wide smile.

"Ah, whit is that on your neck?" Spain's eye widened.

"I'm leaving you now" England said. France nodded at him.

"Oh and I still have that book in my room."

Spain looked at him, then nodded cheerfully.

"Si, I'll get it later then."

England smirked and left, leaving him in the mercy of France.

At the same time, Prussia showed up.

"Spaaaaaain, what is this the awesome me hear about you not going out with us tonight? So totally unawesome!"