Alright warnings- rp style. Co written, unedited, things of a sexual nature. Oh Pirate England.

These characters are not owned by me or my co-writer! WE DO NOT OWN HETALIA.

Mkay, that's done. Enjoy.

England was pissed, to say the least. This was the tiring to continue rescuing Spain from death. And it was annoying that thanks to Anthony he kept loosing the curtains in his quarters. England grabbed the curtain quickly ripping it. He used the fabric to staunch the bleeding. It was hard for their kind to die easily, despite his captive's eagerness for the embrace of death. "You really wish to surrender your precious little pet to me?" Arthur hissed watching as the makeshift bandages became soaked. He continued to wrap though making sure to elevate to slow the bleeding.

It was strange to now try to inspire the man he wanted to break to live. Arthur wanted him to beg him, to fear him, to wish for death. Yet, the idiot had decided to actually… he shook his head. Well he wouldn't let Spain die. Now once he was awake enough he would wish he hadn't failed in his attempt. This was not what England had wanted to do, and he would make sure to punish his captive accordingly, but there was no way he was going to let death take Anthony away.

Spain hummed nonsensically. At least he was better than the Ottoman Empire... Though that was no great relief... He felt his arms get lifted and blinked, turning his head slightly to glance at what was being used. A grin spread across his face. He couldn't help the faint giggle that bubbled up, but the energy was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

He felt tired, and despite the warmth of the cabin, he began to shiver with cold. It seemed that Time was one thing the Spaniard was quickly running out of. He looked at Inglaterra and winked. A soft, cheerful smile on his lips. It was not one of his violent ones. It was friendly, one he gave the other two when they performed a prank or got someone to commit to a dare. It drifted away as he fell towards sleep. Exhaustion settling over him like a mantle of the finest furs.

Arthur sighed wanting to strangle Anthony at this moment, or just let him die. Honestly nursing one's enemy back to health was killing him. He could no longer see the blood through the bandages but England was sure it was only a matter of time before it soaked though. There was nothing else he could do though, stop the bleeding, get food in him… he looked back at Spain's face to realize he was asleep. Suddenly panicked England leaned down to make sure he felt breathing, well if the bastard died he'd just bloody drop him over board and say he killed himself. He'd take the gold and deal with the problems later.

Feeling faint breathing, Arthur relaxed slightly. He still had to keep the limbs elevated and try not to damage them more. Not until they had enough time to heal over enough at least. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and finished taking care of his now unconscious captive always thinking that he had finally passed on. England found the clay shard left from the plate, after this stunt (if Spain actually lived), the idiot was spending the rest of this trip chained with his hands away from each other, to the wall, having someone feed him every day. Just like the invalid he was.

Antonio woke. Unfortunately it was not a pleasant awakening. His whole body hurt, especially his wrists, and he was so thirsty his throat BURNED for moisture. And he felt starved. Though for what, he didn't know... He felt something heavy draped over him and weighing down his bandaged arms. From the faint light of the moonbeams striking them, he could see blackness against the white. Blood. His lifeblood. He turned his head slowly and tensed. On his arms was another. And from the weight on his stomach, he guessed the location of the other arm... He blanched as he realized that the weird feeling on his legs were those of the other person tangled with his. But who? This was an intimate position... One lovers would take.

He swallowed and turned his head. hoping and dreading to discover the face he would see.

Arthur had never meant to end up in such an intimate position with his prisoner. To know that he had pulled another to him like this in his sleep would for sure make the usually confident pirate blank. As it were though he was holding Spain to himself, his breathe playing lightly against Spain's shoulder blade. The slight movement had England attempting to shift closer; to say he was tired was an understatement. Piracy did not conduct its self.

"Stop moving you bloody git," he mumbled in his sleep. He would be mortified to know the event currently unfolding. But at least it answered the question if Anthony was going to pull through. Sadly it also would give Arthur another reason, as if he needed one, to hurt the captive for… well everything. He didn't like to worry, he didn't like to take care of stupid nations who attempt to kill themselves, and certainly he did not like to curl up to them.

Antonio immediately stilled with a faint whimper. He knew that voice... It had been all he had heard for a long time now... He gulped, swallowing what little spit remained in his dry mouth, and hoped that he had been allowed to wear something as he slept. However, as the Pirated pulled him closer, he soon realized that the two of them were as bare as a newborn babe. The only difference being the fact he had the thick bandages around his wrists.

They kept the blood in his malnourished body and acted like cuffs by being tied together in the end. He sighed. As weak as he was, he could do nothing. He doubted that he would even have the strength to stand. Probably the only thing he would be useful for would be the ransom and... THAT... He shivered and another whimper ghosted past his lips. He didn't want that again. He didn't want to be held so intimately by this person... By this Diablo... But... He couldn't escape... And this actually felt rather nice... Eventually he relaxed, falling back into the realm of somnus...

Arthur groaned blinking his eyes open. He promptly shut them again too tired to move, he had only fallen into bed a short while ago… and there was warmth… wait. This warmth was moving… Arthur's eyes shot open, why was he holding Anthony? He groaned again but this time for a different reason, did Spain have to wiggle like that? "You're up," he growled though he did not mean to, it was Spain's fault for moving! He was now fully awake- in every sense of the word.

He nipped at Anthony's shoulder careful not to draw more blood from his prisoner. Anything he did right now would have to involve keeping blood inside the body. Arthur shifted his hips; well he supposed one gentle round wouldn't kill him. Hell, skipping this round after Spain's treatment would kill Arthur.

Spain was in a nice dream... He and everyone were kids again and everyone was happy and having fun. And he and Little South were playing and having fun. They were wrestling like he had seen in Roma Antiqua's house and he was winning. Lovi had such a cute expression on his face~

Then Lovi spoke, his voice wasn't his own... "You're up" Antonio blinked and laughed airily, still dreaming of his homeland. But it was shattered by a sharp pain that drew him back. Pain slammed down on him and he hissed in reaction. His wrists hurt and his body still demanded sustenance and drink. And he could still feel his jailor wrapped around hi- Oh Dios mio... He whimpered as he recognized the hardness pressing against him from behind... ~Anything but that...~

Arthur darkly chuckled, "Don't give me that, I believe you rather enjoyed it last time," he whispered shifting his arm that was over his captive lower. "You hate me that much for not letting you go down with your ship?" he asked his hand caressing, petting, light and fleeting. Arthur placed a kiss at the spot his just bit, "Or is it that you want to forever make the seas mine?"

He shifted against Anthony again enjoying the whimpering, the fear shaking though his body. The anger from before, the same anger he had been keeping pent up, eased a little bit as he drew amusement at Spain's state. Arthur moved back to roll his captive onto his back, he smirked moving above him. Quickly his mouth latched to the other's, wanting to taste the fear the other had for what was going to come. He would never get enough of this.

Antonio remained mute at the questions. He didn't want to answer them, and besides... the touches, caresses, were distracting... He squirmed slightly in discomfort. He was sore and tired and thirsty. And he really did not want this... But he was a prisoner. He had no choice really... The choice was all in the hands of that English bastard...

He tensed and stilled as the other moved against him, wanting to scramble away... But with his hands bound together, he was practically helpless. He almost sighed in relief as the other moved away. And was glad he didn't when He was suddenly rolled onto his back and found the man hovering over him like a cruel parody of a guardian angel. The faint light of the moon cast a halo in the blonde hair, turning it a silvery gold in the process. however, the expression underneath was anything but saintly. He gasped and cried out into the Pirata's mouth as his lips were captured in another kiss and he kicked out desperately. Unfortunately, even if he did manage to land a hit... it would be practically useless. He was underfed, weak from his attempt, and still drowsy from sleep.

Arthur pulled back from the kiss dragging his teeth over Anthony's lower lip. "You shouldn't fight it so much, I might not be as kind as last time," he threatened, moving his hands to pin down the legs threatening to hurt him. His head lowered to nuzzle his captive's neck, the pirate continued talking as if he had been answered, "Though your right, I shouldn't be that nice. You after all, seem to want more pain. Cutting yourself like that," his kiss was gentle as he tsked at Spain's failed attempt. His fingers worked into the muscle of the legs he held, his hands threatening to curl into fists. "You can't even kill yourself correctly you know that?" he whispered before lifting his head again for another harsh kiss.

His face twitched and he bit his lower lip desperately, hoping the silence would be answer enough. He didn't want to want this, but his body was betraying him with the reaction. Stop him! think of something... Get free! But how can I..? When I am so weak... He itched to hurl a retort at Arthur, squirming in the grasp that held him down. Of course he was still alive. It was the pirate's fault the Spaniard had not died. But Antonio would not accuse him. Instead he glared with as much anger he could muster. Which... Wasn't as much as he used to... Instead it looked more like...He was pleading. He felt those strong digits working on the muscles and relaxed, despite his better judgement. He sighed remorsefully into the forced kiss, letting the other do what he wanted.

Arthur situated himself between Anthony's legs and raised one hand. "Would you care to provide? Or would you rather just have me take you?" he chuckled knowing the other's mouth was dry, Spain would be lucky to provide any sort of lubrication for himself. Arthur knew he'd punish his captive in the morning. After all it wouldn't be right to be so awarding like this to a man who just tried to kill himself, no he was considering this the 'congrats your still alive' gift.

His body went limp, no fight in it at all. He felt pain in the back of his eyes and blinked, recognizing it as tears trying to form. There wasn't even enough moisture to cry... One small mercy he supposed. Now that he had hit such a nadir, he didn't even have enough moisture in his body to properly cry... But there were other ways he realized. His breath hitched as he bit back a sob. His brows furrowed and he bit his lip harder, threatening to break the skin in his attempt to keep quiet. There was no way he would let Inglaterra see him cry...

"No need to thank me," Arthur said placing a hand on the Spaniards cheek. It was amusing how he was practically begging for more. The pirate doubted Anthony knew he was. He wouldn't point it out though, well not right now. He ran his thumb over his prisoner's lips, "You didn't answer my question Spain," he stated a slight edge placed in his voice as he moved to remove the bitten lip, "You going to open your mouth like a good whore or force me to make you bleed again?" he asked. England's free hand traveled down the naked and bound body below him. The body was so thin from malnutrition.

It would probably take awhile before he had Spain looking well enough to be handed over without anyone causing a fuss.

Thank you? I would rather eat ground glass than thank you... Antonio thought mutinously. But other than the smouldering fire in his gaze... he was as placid as still water. A muscle jumped in his cheek as Arturo pressed against his much abused lips with the digit. He whimpered as it brushed over a cut, whether a leftover from his attempts or a result of his bite didn't matter... It still left a dark mark on the thumb. I am no whore... But, even as he completed the thought, his jaw muscles relaxed letting the other pull his mouth open with that slight pressure. He felt the other hand move down his body, exploring his now gaunt frame. He felt sick with self-loathing, but he acted like he didn't notice the touches. The only sign would be the faint prickle of skin that followed in the wake of such warm hands and in the rising of the fine hairs on the back of his neck- a sure sign of his anxiety...

Arthur slipped two fingers into Anthony's mouth. "You might want to try to suck now," he suggested shifting his hips forward. The pirate smirked, "Though you do enjoy bleeding so much, I'm not sure if it's fair of me to deny you your one pleasure." Though, Arthur had to remind himself that the point was to avoid making the Spaniard bleed more. It was a miracle that the other nation was really still alive. Then again… it took so much more to kill them. He kissed along the jaw presented to him, amused by the faint bruises that remained. It took so much more. One hand explored his captive's mouth the fingers brushing over Anthony's teeth, the other worked lower back to the sensitive skin around his captive's vital regions. He was being far gentler than he should have been. But welcoming one back from death's door warranted special treatment, even for a short while.

His tongue brushed against the fingers, but it was just as dry as they and bloodloss had ensured his mouth was as dry as cotton. His eyes were narrow- and his pupils dilated from darkness- making the emerald in his eyes seem to disappear completely into monochrome black and white. Other than the faint movement of his chest, eyes, and mouth, one would think he was dead. But he knew that the captain knew better. That he was just laying like this to show just how much power the other held over him. He sighed around the fingers still in his mouth, letting the anger melt away. It took to much effort to feel any emotion anyways... Stimulous however... That was a different story. His breath hitched in surprise -though he knew he should have expected that- as he felt the fingers touch the skin in such a private, and incredibly sensitive area. A soft whimper of fear was garbled by the intrusions in his mouth, but it was there all the same. Even if Arthur was being Gentle...

It was still not wanted...

Arthur withdrew his fingers raising a brow, "So you want it dry," he mused knowing why his prisoner failed to provide any sort of comfort for himself. As if Anthony had properly coated the fingers the pirate moved them down the other's body. His other hand shifted to lift the prisoner slightly so he could find his intended target. "You're not resisting," he teased whispering against Anthony's ear. Quickly, because where was the fun if he made everything pleasant for his captive, Arthur inserted two fingers into the hole once he found it. He smirked at the resistance he felt. The pirate couldn't help but chuckle as the body below him tried to force his fingers out as he moved them stretching the tight hole for something much bigger.

"N-no..." He croaked weakly, a protest that would probably go unheeded... He felt the other move, lifting his bottom half to get better access at his hole. And he trembled, awaiting and dreading the pain that would soon follow. He felt the fingers as they traveled down his body, dry skin against dry skin. If he could he would be sweating with fear. You're not resisting... Of course he wasn't... How could he? A choked cry of pain escaped as they were forced into his body. He heaved with dry sobs, pushing against England weakly, trying to get away. His muscles clenched the fingers within, an attempt to halt their progress and force them out. Useless of course, but he had to try. It hurt, but -despite the burning friction- there was no tearing and bleeding. It changed as the other brushed against something inside him, and he cried out... this time in surprised pleasure. His hands went from pushing away to clinging desperately... fighting against the feeling.

Arthur repeated the movement smirking. Spain clung to him begging for more, just like before. The pirate knew he was leaving a mark on the man below him. Whenever another lay down with this man now thoughts of him would come to mind. And that was the best scar he could leave. Slowly he curled his fingers against that spot that brought Anthony closer to him. He laughed at the reactions it brought before adding a third finger. There were no more teasing words from him, no more aloud mocking. Of course it didn't mean his taunting didn't continue, or that the smirk on his face disappeared.

No Spain knew where he belonged now, that England could have complete control over him. Arthur nipped at his captive's neck, he should leave another mark; the others had faded considerably. As roughly as he pushed the fingers in the pirate pulled them back out before spitting on his own palm, something to make sure he didn't tear open his captive again.

His fingers tightened on Inglaterra's shoulders' as el bastardo continued the assault on his body, digging into the soft flesh urgently. He would never tell him. Never let him find out what he had done. Never let him find out that Spain had been a virgin. He bit his tongue in an attempt to silence himself as the third was added, his face twisting with pain pleasure and despair. He felt a solitary tear manage to form and trickle down the side of his face. His eyes slid shut, unwilling to look at the male hovering over his body. The one who used his body like ... like he was a whore. He jerked and whimpered as he was bitten, but didn't move.

There was no choice for Espania after all. He was just an unwilling slave to England's desire. He gasped as the fingers left him so suddenly. And he felt even worse as he heard the sound of Arturo spitting on his hand. He bit even harder on his tongue to muffle the sounds of fear that leaked from his throat.

"Don't mute yourself," Arthur whispered against the abused spot on his captive's neck. Slowly he guided himself in. He moaned feeling the other's walls clamp eagerly around him. This round he would take his time, savor the emotions that flicked across Anthony's face. The pirate looked down placing a hand on his captive's cheek once more. Once sheathed fully he waited, wanted to see what Spain would do. What would he add to the beautiful sight below the English nation? What could be added the once proud and arrogant Spain broken and whimpering?

A silent sob shook his frame as the Englishman slowly entered his body, but he didn't speak. His face was twisted with mental anguish and physical pleasure. He didn't want to do this. He closed his eyes tightly and bit his own tongue harder. A soft whimper went free, but that was the only kind of sound he allowed himself. He felt his skin crawl as Inglaterra touched his cheek, but other than a slight grimace that revealed the position of his tongue to anyone trying to memorize what his face looked like, he showed nothing of great import.

Arthur waited for once allowing Anthony get use to him before moving. His hand moved, his thumb again rubbing his captive's lips. "Don't mute yourself," he repeated knowing he still was physically stronger, he could force the mouth open if need be. By why resort to that when he could simply coax it? His captive's face was too beautiful at the moment to ruin by forcing him to cry out. It was the face of a broken man, a broken nation. And it was all by his hands. The pirate smirked resting his forehead against Anthony's, slowly moving letting the other know that he was owned fully, and even once the ransom was paid he'd still belong to England.

Antonio didn't look at him. Couldn't look at him. Couldn't let him see the destruction he wrought on the Spaniard's mind. A childish mantra in his head kept him from falling deeper... My eyes are closed, so the pain isn't real. There was no pain now though... he could almost believe that It was someone who loved him... Not England... Not the one who just wanted to prove himself as the better. "Congratulations..." He said softly in his native tongue, finally opening his eyes to look at Arthuro once again. Haloed by the harsh, unfeeling light of the moon. His own face was not cast into shadow, but immersed in the glow. "You have taken from me one of my greatest treasures and destroyed it beyond repair ." A smile without joy or even any form of emotion spread across his face as he closed his eyes again... "One can have sexual relations for the first time, once, is that not true?"

Arthur didn't stop his movements; outwardly he didn't show any reaction to the Spaniards statement. Well besides a smirk and lowering his head to nip Anthony's jaw line. Internally though, he was mulling over what the other had said. Beyond the congratulations the Spanish was muddled to him. Of course he had taken things from Spain, destroyed far more that that… but the pirate felt his prisoner was talking about something else. 'One can only have sexual relations for the first time once, is that not true?' "True"