They're sitting on Canada's desk, so quiet they could hear a pin drop. Ukraine's trousers are on the ground and Canada's are at his ankles. He sits between her legs, his back pressed to her chest and one of her arms wrapped tight around his skinny abdomen, just barely pinning down his arms. They must not kiss or bite or mark each other's skin, no matter how much temptation there is, because their brothers will see the marks and they will know.
But that does not mean they cannot please each other and themselves. Canada fights for the chance to make contact with Ukraine at the UN and occasionally in neutral areas of Europe, and since she is supposed to be her own nation he can get private meetings with her every so often. When she appears in whatever office they are meeting in she tells them how much time they have together, how long until her brother starts knocking on the door and demanding that they let him in. It is rarely long enough to do more than talk, but this time they have long enough to indulge in intimacy.
Ukraine has her free hand pressed between their bodies, touching herself in what limited ways she can in their position. Her eyes are closed, and as she touches herself she can almost imagine that it is Canada's fingers stroking her clit. She already knows how to pleasure Canada without touching him, and she uses her knowledge without mercy or restraint. Canada, she moans, softly and weakly. Her mouth is almost against his ear, tickled by his long hair. He groans in return, helpless in her tight hold.
She knows without looking that his eyes are tightly closed, his mouth open and his eyebrows drawn. The power of a name is something Ukraine has known since she was an infant, the hazy memory of her mother telling her to protect her name with her life. To know that she has the power of Canada's name makes her ache with desire, and the fact that she can give him pleasure with this power drives her mad with want even as she sobs for how lonely he must be. Canada, she whines, her voice high and needy.
She slips her fingers inside her body, her thumb still stroking her clitoris as she grinds forward. He is trembling against her, every muscle straining to touch himself, to touch her, to do anything but be held immobile and at the tender mercies of Ukraine.
Let me— let me— he gasps, and Ukraine's breath whispers against the back of his ear. He twitches and twists his head, exposes the whole of his neck to her. She is better restrained that him, and she will not kiss or bite or even lick his throat. But her moist breath warms his neck and he can imagine lips there as she jerks her hips forward into his rear. Canada! she whimpers, and his cock twitches as he twists with pleasure.
Ukraine… he groans, choking on everything else he could say. He strains against her hold briefly before relaxing entirely into her body, the buttons of her blouse pressing into his spine as her wrist grinds into his lower back. He tries to push against her hand and help her reach her orgasm, but the angle is wrong and his body is helpless in her hold. He uses words instead.
That's right, love, go on, tell me how you feel— and he tries feebly to thrust into the air as her breath catches in her throat and her wrist pushes harder into his back. He arches his back in imitation of their old lovemaking and his head falls against her shoulder so he can press his cheekbone into her jaw. Her flushed face is hot and there is a sheen of sweat underneath her ear.
It's good, Canada, oh I love it and you and Canada, she whispers, her mouth still forming words as she gasps weakly. And then she shakes and turns her head just a little, and he can feel the slightest puff of breath against his lips, and she comes around her fingers. And he knows, he always knows when she comes because that's when she says, Oh Canada, Canada, Canada, and the rapture in her voice brings him to orgasm. He tries to repeat her, say, love love love as he comes, but his voice is strangled by pleasure and the sound of her pleased with him echoing in his ears.
Notes: Written as a fill for the Hetalia Kink Meme, filling the prompt for someone getting Canada off just by saying his name positively enough. This is sad and sexy for the name-caller, and me being typical I had to write Ukraine.