He must've fallen asleep, because the next thing Russia knew, a ray of sunlight was shining directly into his eyes. He grunted and sat up, smacking his lips and grimacing at the taste in his mouth. He was rinsing his mouth with honey water when America knocked at his door.
"Hey, Ivan! If you're up, pack a spare set of clothes, all right? We're going swimming today!"
Russia spat out the honey water. "Swimming?" He glanced at his bedside and cringed at the dirty shirt that he'd discarded on the floor. He grabbed it and stuffed it into his bag, hiding it from sight. "I'm almost ready."
He shrugged into some well-worn clothes, wound his scarf around his neck, and shouldered a smaller bag holding a change of clothing. He stepped out to find America already waiting for him, with a bag of his own in his left hand and a riding whip in his right. Russia took one look at America holding that whip and conjured up mental images which made the ones from last night seem innocent. He was mentally berating himself for them even as he followed America downstairs to where the horses were waiting.
"The place we're going is a little far," America said as he swung into the saddle. Russia likewise mounted the other horse. "But it's worth it, I promise. It's awesome." There was that word he'd learned from Prussia; Russia smiled a little at that. He followed America as they rode down a long winding little path, then off the path down treacherous rocks covered in slippery moss. Russia worried a little about their mounts, but the horses must've ridden this way before, for they did not founder.
At last they came out to a sandy little outcropping beside a stream. The water poured down over boulders, long since worn smooth by millenia of rushing water, into a pool. America swung down and tied his horse to a tree. He knelt to untie his shoes, then sat and dangled his feet into the clear, flowing water. Russia looked up from tying his own horse to see America stripping off his shirt, leaving him clad only in his breeches. Quickly, Russia looked away.
"Come on in, Russia," America called to him as he waded into the water. "It's not cold."
Russia bravely tore his eyes away from America's bare back and wet breeches. "In - in a moment," he said. He hesitated; should he remove his scarf? America would surely be horrified to see his scars. But he didn't want to get his precious scarf soaking wet. He considered his options as he pulled off his boots. Always it came back to the scars - the scars that rendered his outside as monstrous as his inside.
As though reading his mind, America lifted himself out of the pool, walking towards Russia as water poured from his trousers and body. He had a beautiful body, Russia thought hazily, watching him approach. Well-porportioned, just a little plumpness around his hips.
"Here, lemme help," America said, and Russia was almost too distracted by his closeness to stop him from unwinding the scarf from around Russia's neck.
"I...I..." Russia stammered. Finally, he looked at his feet and said, "If I remove my scarf, you will see my scars, Fredka." He peeked up at his friend nervously.
"Scars?" America tilted his head to one side. "What scars?"
"I am a very old nation," Russia reminded him gently. "My past has been brutal. I carry the scars. I do not want you to be... disgusted."
"How could I ever be disgusted by you?" America cried. "How could you ever think that? You're my friend, Russia, more than just a friend, I respect you and I - I could never turn away from you just because of some marks on your skin."
Russia wouldn't have believed such words from anyone else, save for his sisters, for Ukraine truly didn't care, and Belarus would love him just as passionately if he had no face. But still he clenched his eyes shut as he removed his scarf, afraid to see revulsion or pity on America's face. From him, Russia couldn't bear it.
His scarf dangled loosely from one hand. America didn't say anything. Hesitantly, Russia cracked an eye open to see America gazing at his face, calm and friendly, still smiling. America doesn't care, he thought, and his heart pounded wildly. America doesn't think they make me monstrous.
America held out a hand, and after a moment, Russia accepted it. He let his friend lead him toward the stream. "I'm glad I could see you without your scarf," America told him. "You - you look good without it, Russia."
Russia blushed but murmured, "Thank you." He followed America up the hill, to where the water flowed over the worn boulders. America climbed across the slick rocks, nimble as a cat, and then slid down, whooping and yelling as he splashed into the pool below. He surfaced moments later, laughing.
Russia hung his scarf from a tree branch, and then tried to climb across the rocks himself. He was not practiced like America, and almost immediately the current swept him away, and his face went underwater. For a moment he was frightened by the lack of air and the feeling of being swept along, but then he slid into the pool and found he could stand. He surfaced, shaking himself like a bear, roaring as he shook water from his wet hair. He stood chest-deep in the crystal clear, cool water.
America splashed over to him, cheering, "Hey, see, it's not scary! You did great!" The water caressed the bones that swept elegantly down to his sternum, pooling in the little hollow of his throat.
Russia swallowed. "Great, da."
America swam closer, bending his knees so that the water supported most of his weight. He was now close enough that his hand accidently brushed Russia's arm underwater. "I still can't believe," America said, "that you would think I would be disgusted by you." He planted his feet and stood up again, now much too close. "Russia, I think you're the best."
"The best...?" Russia wondered aloud, but his words were cut off when America suddenly leaned forward and brushed his lips to Russia's.
Shock ripped through his brain. Russia flinched away, and instantly America's face crumpled. Still overcome by that kiss, Russia fought to explain himself. "Wait, America, wait," he called out as America turned and began to swim away, clearly thinking that Russia had rejected him.
America went to pull himself out of the pool. Russia sloshed behind him, reaching out for him. "Don't go, please." This close, he could see America's ears burning red from embarassment. He couldn't allow America to leave like this, thinking that Russia was angry or disgusted, possibly even thinking that Russia hated him.
"I'm sorry, I'm an idiot," America mumbled miserably. Russia locked his hands onto his shoulders and pulled him back into the pool.
"No, no," Russia said, struggling to keep from babbling incoherently. Damnit, why did his English always fail him at the worst possible time. "I was only surprised, the kiss was not unwanted, I-" and he pulled America around so that they faced each other in the water and pressed America flush to him and kissed him back with everything he had.
They stood like that for several long moments, Russia's lips moving against America's, his bulk pressing America to the slick rock side of the pool. America wrapped his arms over Russia's shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. Russia released his grip on America's shoulders and let his hands wander up to touch America's neck, resting at last right below his jaw. Their bodies molded together from the top down, and a thrill ran through Russia's body as he felt the strong press of America's hips. They rolled their hips together, both seeking friction and release.
When they broke the kiss, America let his head flop back onto the edge of the pool, sucking in deep gasps as though Russia had left him breathless. Russia marveled at the water droplets caught in America's eyelashes, his flushed cheeks, the wide smile that seemed to say that America had finally gotten what he most wanted. Russia wasn't sure he had ever made anyone smile like that before.
America propped himself up on his elbows and gave Russia a look that was surprisingly self-conscious. "Russia, ah, I've never..." he trailed off, his cheeks burning.
Russia pressed his lips to the spot between America's eyebrows, then moved lower and kissed the dimple above America's upper lip. "Never?" Russia whispered, hot against his mouth.
A barely perceptible shiver rippled across America's body. Russia ran his hands up and down America's shoulders and sides, trying to calm him. America being a virgin changed the game entirely. Russia still shuddered to think of the loss of his own innocence; he would never wish such a thing on his friend. He deserved gentleness, care, deserved to be taught the pleasure his own body could bring him. No one had ever trusted Russia with something so precious.
"America," he said, gently rubbing their foreheads together. "I am honored, but I do not think I am who you need."
America clasped him tighter to him, as though fearing Russia might turn and leave at any moment. "Don't say that!" They were pressed so close together, cheek-to-cheek, that Russia could feel America's chest rise and fall as he inhaled. "There's no one else. No one," he told Russia seriously.
No one else here, to lay him down and take his virginity? Or no one else in his heart and mind? Russia was too afraid of the answer to ask America what he meant. Instead, he reached down, grasping America's bottom with his hands even as their mouths met again. Their teeth clacked a little this time, but America moaned into the kiss as Russia caressed his bottom. Russia licked his way down his neck, pausing to tongue at the hollow of America's throat, before sliding down and claiming one of his nipples. He caught it ever so tenderly between his teeth, just enough pressure to make America gasp, keep him on that razor's edge between pleasure and pain.
Just the thought had no one had ever explored America like this before, that no hands save for America's own had ever touched him, made Russia so hard that he wanted to scream.
Russia's hands had a mind of their own, inching from America's buttocks to his thighs, and Russia barely caught himself before they got out of control. He pulled back, and America whined in protest. "Not here," Russia panted. "I'm not going to take you in the woods." He clambered out of the water, trying to ignore his obvious arousal for now.
America climbed out after him. "So a bed then?" he asked. Bold, for a virgin. Russia chuckled a little to himself.
"It will be better, I promise you. Less pain." Russia turned his face away and dug inside his bag for his spare clothes. He dressed quickly, stealing only a glance or two at America as he, too, stripped down and changed.