Music blared from the speakers at the front of the room as nations mingled on the dance floor. Normally, Poland was right in the middle of it all, dancing like a dirty slut just for the hell of it. And he had been, until he'd wanted to dance with Lithuania only to discover that his boyfriend was still with his brothers. The former Baltic States were gathered at a small table, laughing and talking with their arms around each other; Latvia looked like he'd found heaven.

Selfishly, Poland wanted to steal Liet away for himself, but he resisted. Not only would it be rude, but it would upset Toris, and an upset Toris definitely wasn't a Toris that would be interested in having sex when they got home. So Poland settled for sitting off by himself as he drank glass after glass of whatever alcohol was being served. This meant he'd already ingested beer, vodka, rum and wine.

The blond's filters were quickly drowning in the dangerous concoction. This was a rather impressive feat, considering how much alcohol a nation had to consume in order to become intoxicated. Even though Poland was considered a lightweight by some of the others, it was still a huge amount of alcohol.

It was mostly dark in the party room, the lights having been turned off a while ago, but the flashing colored party lights made it relatively easy for Poland to watch what was happening around him. His gaze was locked on the Baltics as he sipped a glass of wine. Fuzzy thoughts about his lover passed in and out of his head until one—likely bad—idea managed to stick.

I'll make him jealous. Then he won't ignore me. He won't even be able to keep his hands off me.

This particular idea sounded deliciously clever to the tipsy nation. He quickly drained the rest of his wine then made his way onto the dance floor, his coordination somewhat deteriorated by the amount of alcohol he had consumed. As he danced, bumping and grinding playfully against other nations, he maneuvered himself into a position where he knew Lithuania could see him. Once set, he began dancing with abandon. His hips swayed and dipped to the bass of the song and he sent long, smoldering looks towards his distracted brunette boyfriend, though they appeared to go unnoticed.

Not long after he'd begun dancing, the blond felt hands on his hips and someone behind him. It wasn't Toris—the shy nation hadn't left his table—and the mystery nation was significantly taller than Feliks. It was definitely a male nation, and Poland felt a thrill of excitement when he noticed the other nation was aroused.

This knowledge only fed the blond's fearlessness. He put his hands over those on his hips and danced against his partner, grinding and rubbing. If that didn't make Lithuania jealous, then nothing would. After a few minutes, the song ended, and Poland turned as the next song began.

"R-Russia?!" he gasped, eyes widening. The large nation's hands were still on Poland's hips, preventing him from stepping back, and he was smiling innocently.

"Poland is a very good dancer." He used his grip on the shorter man to pull him closer—Poland squeaked as their hips pressed together—and whispered in his ear. "And his body is very desirable."

Jesus Christ, he has a boner! Like, ew!

Around them, the music continued and the other guests danced while the two nations stared at each other. Russia was still smiling, though Poland looked completely shocked and a little afraid. Now what was he going to do? If he wanted to escape the Russian, he'd have to stop dancing, but if he wanted to make Lithuania jealous, he needed to keep dancing. It wasn't the sort of situation the blond had ever wanted to find himself in.

Leaning closer, Ivan put his mouth by Poland's ear. "Keep dancing, little Poland." His hands began to force the blond's hips to move to the music, and he purred in the shorter nation's ear; he thought the friction between them was lovely.

"Nng…" Poland did his best to resist the soft moan as, despite his best efforts, his body reacted to the contact.

No! Body, knock it off! You totally don't like him!

Unfortunately, his body ignored his mental commands and continued to respond to the Russian's movements exactly the opposite way Poland wanted it to. It wasn't long before he himself was hard, and Ivan obviously knew it. The innocent smile on that child-like face turned into a smirk and he ground their hips together, eliciting another moan from the blond. Without meaning to, Poland wrapped his fingers around the fabric of the Russian's shirt, his hips moving of their own accord, and felt the grip on his waist tighten. It seemed Ivan was much easier to arouse than Poland was, which gave the blond an idea that was almost as clever as his plan to make Lithuania jealous.

With a smirk, he bucked his hips forward and earned a groan from the taller nation, whose violet eyes widened in surprise. Then he pulled as far away as Ivan would allow, still gripping his shirt, and began to dance. His movements were slow and sensual and the Russian's eyes followed every one of them, adding to Poland's glee.

The party continued and so did the blond nation—he knew some of the others were giving him strange looks, but he didn't care. Toying with Russia was more fun than he'd expected and Poland wasn't about to stop. He was finally starting to really enjoy the party and too bad for Lithuania that he wasn't the reason.

Suddenly, Ivan's large hands moved around the blond and grabbed his ass, squeezing as he was roughly pulled against the taller nation's body. Poland yelped in surprise, barely managing to turn his head to the side to avoid the rough kiss Ivan had been about to force on him. The Russian growled and bit the blond's ear instead.

"Poland should not tease so much. He will get himself into trouble."

"Nn…" Pushing against his chest, Poland put a small amount of distance between himself and the larger man then moved the other's hands away from his ass. "Like, get over it, Ivan. You can't have me."

Ivan grinned. "Your body says otherwise, да?" Without any warning, he placed his hand on Poland's vital regions and rubbed, easily feeling that the blond was hard.

"H-hey!" His face turning a dark shade of red, Poland smacked the larger nation's hand away. "You can't just, like, go around touching people like that! It's totally sexual harassment!"

"But Poland likes it, da?" There was that naïve smile again.

"No, Poland doesn't like it!" Glaring, the blond put his hands on his hips. "I love Toris! I'm not going to do anything with you, Russia!" He stomped away, huffing in anger and embarrassment, and dropped into his previously abandoned chair. Had that really just happened? Russia just groped him right in front of the other nations! Ugh, the feeling of the larger nation's hand on him made Poland shudder. He stood again, snatching the black clutch he kept for occasions such as the party off the table, and stalked off towards the bathroom. His body was ready to rid itself of the alcohol he'd filled it with, anyway.

Across the room, Toris watched him go. He'd seen every second of the Pol's little show, and knew very well it was a play to make him jealous. Watching his boyfriend being felt up by Russia was infuriating, but he also knew it would do him no good to give the blond what he wanted and interrupt. Besides, Russia had obviously tried to take more than Poland was willing to give and had ruined the shorter nation's game.

Now the blond was probably off pouting somewhere because Toris hadn't given him what he wanted. If he had, Poland would only have teased him for the rest of the party then made him work for his pleasure once they got home. Lithuania was too familiar with Poland's games to go along with it. Instead, he intended to make his impatient lover wait until they got home, then demonstrate his frustration.

"Punishment" sex was one of Liet and Pol's favorites, after all.

Alone in the single-stall bathroom, Poland checked his hair and makeup in the mirror and reapplied his lipgloss. All the dancing and drinking had given him a "hot mess" look, and he wondered if that might help him win over Lithuania. He giggled at the thought of making out with his boyfriend in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe, if he played his cards right, they could sneak off and play for a bit, just to give Liet a taste of what he would get later.

Finished, the blond nation packed away his travel makeup into the little black clutch and left the bathroom to return to the dance. He'd taken less than four steps down the hall when a gloved hand was pressed over his mouth and he was jerked backwards. Fighting to scream, Poland felt his wrists being grabbed and pinned behind his back by a second hand; the clutch was knocked from his grasp and fell to the floor.

Someone laughed in his ear.

"Kolkolkol…"

Fear made Poland's blood turn to ice and he froze, tensing, ready to fight if he had to.

Oh, my god…he's totally going to kill me for teasing him…

"You will become one with Russia, да?"

Feliks struggled to free his wrists as he attempted to shout a refusal, but he couldn't manage to form the words against the larger nation's hand. To his horror, the blond felt himself being partially lifted off his feet and was half dragged, half carried farther away from the party. He whimpered, terrified of what his captor might have planned.

With an innocent smile welded to his face, Russia shouldered open the door to what appeared to be a study of some kind. He glanced around then forced the nation in his grip to the desk, pushing him forward so that Poland stumbled.

"S-stop!" the blond panted, looking up at the Russian with anger and fear in his green eyes. All trace of his drunken giddiness from earlier in the evening had vanished. "Get the hell away from me, you murderer!"

A cold look came into Russia's eyes and he slapped the blond, the back of his hand colliding with Poland's cheek with enough force to make his head snap to the side. Pain made Feliks gasp and whimper, tears pricking at his eyes.

"Y-you won't get away with this, Russia!"

Not bothering to respond, Ivan roughly gripped Feliks' chin and kissed him, forcing him to open his mouth and invading the warm cavern with his tongue. The blond started to shove him away, but the Russian was quick to trap his wrists in an iron grip, preventing him from escaping. Not until Feliks was beginning to feel lightheaded did the taller nation release him, and he fell back against the desk.

Before he'd even managed to catch his breath, the Russian moved closer and turned Feliks towards the desk, easily pinning him down on it. Poland resisted, but his strength was no match to that of the larger nation. One of Ivan's hands pressed down between the Pol's shoulders as the other began to hike up the fabric of his dress.

Poland dug his nails into the desk, helpless and furious. "Why are you doing this?!"

"Because Poland asked for it,да?"

"What? I did not! Get off me!"

"Нет. Poland has been dancing with me all evening. Now I will have everything Poland's body promised me."

"Let me go, you bastard! You won't get away with this!"

Russia chuckled and roughly grabbed the Pol's ass, making him squeak and jump.

"Is Poland going to tell on me?"

"I totally will! Alfred'll kick your ass if you hurt me!"

"Then I will crush Poland. I will invade little Lithuania and reclaim him as my territory."

Feliks stiffened at the mention of his lover. "You leave Toris alone, you vodka-soaked lunatic!"

"I leave Toris alone if Feliks keeps his mouth shut, да?" The smile in his voice made Poland want to vomit.

Desperate, he tried to think of something to say to scare the Russian, but his mind refused to cooperate. It was too busy focusing on the hand that massaged his backside. As he fell silent, the hand traveled up and the fingers wrapped around the string of the Pol's lacey black thong. He'd worn it for Toris, but now Ivan was slowly pulling it down, watching the scrap of fabric slide over the Pol's rear.

"You will not be needing this."

The blond whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. "Please…don't…"

Ivan didn't respond. He left the thong at his prisoner's knees then reached between his legs to touch him, rubbing and tugging. The blond nation made a pained sound and shifted against the desk as if it would protect him. The fabric of Ivan's glove felt strange and abrasive and, despite his attempts at controlling his body, Poland felt himself growing hard all over again.

F-fuck, body, stop! You don't like this! This is rape! Stop reacting!

"Kolkolkol…Poland is a little slut, да?" the taller nation whispered in his ear, his hand moving faster.

Poland didn't respond. He was too busy trying to hold his body back from the release Ivan was forcing on him.

No! No, no, no! I won't! He can't make me! There is no way I'm going to—!

"Nng! Ah! F-f-fuck!" he screamed, body bucking and shuddering as he came into Ivan's gloved hand. The Russian chuckled and pulled his hand away, licking at the sticky white substance coating his glove.

"Heh…Poland tastes very sweet."

Panting, the green-eyed nation glared at the man holding him down. "L-let me…go…" he demanded weakly.

"Нет. It is my turn, да?" Still pinning the smaller man down, Ivan quickly opened the buckle on his belt and then the fastenings on his pants; his pants and boxers pooled around his ankles as he used the Pol's seed as a substitute for lubricant. He rubbed it over his erection and moaned softly at the slight friction, becoming eager. When he felt it was enough, he took hold of the smaller man's hips, kicked his ankles farther apart to spread his legs, and lined himself up.

Realizing what he was doing, Poland tried to push himself up off the desk. "Don't—!" The rest of his plea was lost in the strangled scream that suddenly tore from his throat. He arched, tears of pain gathering and rolling down his cheeks to drip onto the desk, ruining his makeup. His knees buckled, banging against the side of the desk, and the stretched fabric of his thong ripped. A shudder worked its way down his spine as he felt the Russian move back, almost pulling out, then whimpered as he slammed back in. Poland's carefully painted nails left marks in the desk as he struggled to withstand the pain being inflicted upon him; blood filled his mouth from having bitten his tongue to hold back another scream.

Behind him, his tormentor moved slowly, soft moans falling from his lips as he thrust in and out of the smaller nation.

"Nng…Poland is so tight…ah…"

Whimpering, Feliks laid his forehead on the desk and closed his eyes against the pain. His vital regions burned with every thrust of the larger nation, and the hand on his hip was leaving a bruise.

Just finish…get it over with…

Suddenly, Ivan pulled out of the smaller nation and Poland almost fell, his knees shaking violently; all of his strength went into his arms as he struggled to hold himself up. The tall man stepped back and gazed at his victim, a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. Then he moved close again and pushed the fabric of the blond's dress up farther to reveal the soft, smooth skin of his lower back.

Confusion managed to replace some of Poland's pain. "What are you…? Ahng!" His stomach arched against the desk as the Russian bit down on his back. Another bite soon followed, and another; at least half a dozen times, he felt Ivan's teeth dig into his flesh, drawing blood each time. Large hands were placed firmly on his hips to hold him in place as the Russian kneeled before roughly biting the blond's left thigh.

"P-please, stop!" Poland begged, crying again as the other man sucked at the bite mark he'd just created. "Please…L-Lithuania! Toris! H-help me!" His desperate calls for help made Russia laugh.

"Kolkolkol…no one can hear you, little Poland. You are mine, for as long as I want." The Russian stood and roughly thrust himself back into the blond's ravaged entrance, one hand on Poland's hip and the other tangled in his blond locks, nails viciously digging into his scalp. A long, painful moan forced its way out of Poland and he shuddered, his shoulders hunching up as his nails dug into the wood of the desk.

"Toris…please…"

This time, Ivan's thrusts were fast and hard as he pounded into the smaller man, his nails cutting into Poland's hip and leaving deep scratches. Irritation flashed across his face only a few minutes later when he realized that the blond was nearly unconscious and had stopped reacting to what was being done to him. The hand that was tangled in Poland's hair moved to the blond's back and Ivan dragged his nails from just below his shoulder blades to the base of his spine, making the shorter man cry out and struggle weakly.

A cold smile that didn't reach his eyes stretched across the Russian's face.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Poland's semi-conscious mind felt Ivan go deeper than before, the Russian shuddering as he released his seed inside the smaller man. Holding Feliks' hips steady, he pulled out then let go of him, letting him collapse on the floor with a whimper.

Helpless and hurting, Poland stared up at his tormentor with empty, emotionless eyes. Ivan's innocent smile returned as he cleaned himself with a handkerchief then fixed his clothes. He picked the broken thong up off the floor and slipped it into his pocket.

"It will be my trophy, да?" He chuckled at the slight scowl that was all Poland could manage. "Do not take too long, Poland. I am sure Lithuania will be looking for you."

Feliks didn't move as the larger nation left, though once he was alone he burst into tears. Sobs racked his slender frame as he lay crumpled by the desk. Eventually, the cries subsided and he took a moment to catch his breath and gather his strength. Pain exploded as he slowly climbed to his feet, using the desk for support. His knees wobbled; something warm dripped down his legs. Vaguely, he realized he was bleeding.

I can't let anyone see me like this…

But how was he going to get all the way to the bathroom without being spotted? Especially considering the limp he knew he was going to have and the fact that he was going to have to hold his dress up if he didn't want to stain it.

This is totally not good.

Biting his lip against the pain, Poland took a few unsteady steps and almost screamed. He was limping badly and tears pricked at his eyes.

"Bastard!" he shouted at the door, his voice hoarse from screaming. "Prick! Communist pig! Didn't even bother to prepare me, you asshole!"

There was no response, though he hadn't expected one and was actually glad. No doubt the Russian would have done even worse if he'd heard and come back.

Feliks took a deep breath to steel himself and walked as normally as he could out of the study and back to the bathroom. It hurt just as much as he'd imagined it would and it took everything he had to keep going. His clutch lay on the floor, exactly where he'd dropped it when Ivan grabbed him. Without thinking, he bent over to pick it up and almost screamed again as pain lanced through him. More tears ran down his face, but he picked up the clutch and took it into the bathroom with him. He definitely needed his emergency makeup.

After making sure the door was locked, the blond nation limped over to the sink and set down his clutch. First things first, he needed to take care of the blood. Using warm water, he dampened several paper towels and, as gently as he could, wiped the blood from his thighs. His hand trembled, but he persisted until he was sure he'd gotten it all. Then, with cold water, he created a make-shift ice pack out of clean towels and carefully pressed it to his sore entrance. The coldness made him flinch at first, but it soon began to feel like heaven even though it was odd to have a wad of paper towels clenched between his cheeks. If anyone ever found out about that, he'd die of pure embarrassment.

With a shaky sigh, Poland left the towels where they were and quickly washed his face. His frequent crying had ruined his makeup beyond repair, so he started over. It wasn't his best work—his hands were shaking rather violently—but it would suffice for what was left of the party. That taken care of, he fixed his hair as best he could then cleaned everything up. Lastly, he fixed his dress and did his best to smile at his reflection.

Ouch. I'm not even fooled by myself.

He knew Lithuania was going to notice something was wrong, but there was no help for it. He was as good as he was going to get.

"All right, Pol," he said to himself. "You are totally not going to let that dick see you cry. You can totally do this. Just act like it never happened." Taking a deep breath, he left the bathroom and returned to the party with his head held high.