Hi. This is late. My apologies. It's 2 AM.

Pairing: Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred
Fandom: Hetalia
Disclaimer: I disclaim:(
Warnings: Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. Really. And some sexy time in this chapter.

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Mix - 09

Иван Бьагинский Are you working on your portfolio for your dream of becoming a porn star, Alfred?

Alfred made a face at the comment on his profile picture. It wasn't like it was an extremely provocative picture - if anything, it was pretty normal for Alfred to have it as his profile picture.

Stupid Russian.

Scrolling up, Alfred stared at the aforementioned "porn star" picture. He was standing in front of his bathroom's mirror, angling his cell phone in his hand, clad only in his American flag boxers.

The American didn't understand how it was even remotely something pornographic.

Seriously, look at those awesome boxers. And he couldn't help but think how attractive he looked in them, with his tight abdominal muscles and hip bones and strong shoulders.

Damn, was he ever so attractive.

Alfred nodded at his decidedly incredibly attractive portrait, pleased with himself.

Alfred Jones shut up

"Fuck," Alfred immediately regretted clicking the comment button. "That was so stupid."

Иван Бьагинский likes your photo.

"Okay," Alfred swallowed. "Message time." Alfred hesitated momentarily at he dragged the arrow on the screen towards the small message icon on the left corner of the window. He coughed, fidgeting around in his chair.

After a few silent minutes, the American sighed. "This is stupid," he announced to himself. "I'm Alfred fucking Jones and I don't get nervous. I'm acting like some kind of school girl with a crush." He paused. "I don't get crushes. I don't get attached." The teenager grinned. "Fuck yeah!"

With newfound enthusiasm, the American spun around in his chair and faced his laptop, tapping the touch pad more times than necessary.

Иван Бьагинский Hello, Alfred! I have not seen you in two weeks. I am sure you have missed me, Да?

Alfred Jones hi ivan… not really no. i'm not a chick. why would I miss you. wtf. in your dreams, man.

Иван Бьагинский Ah, you wound me, little American. I have surely missed our.. Encounters. What is "wtf"?

Alfred Jones you sound like a goof. and wtf is what the fuck.

Иван Бьагинский A goof, Alfred?

Alfred Jones a pedophile =l what do you want

Иван Бьагинский Ah! Such bitter words you type. What is your number? That is the actual reason I have contacted you.

Alfred grumbled, his face bright red. He didn't mean to be so snappy; it happens when he feels embarrassed. He looked away from the laptop's screen and over to his bed, where a small plush alien sat, Navi using him as a pillow for his little head. The cat's eyes were half-lidded, relaxed. "I wish I was a cat," Alfred mumbled, envious of the life his cat lead.

Worriless, easy, quiet.

Alfred looked back at his laptop and let out a huff.

Alfred Jones do NOT ever call me for phone sex…

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In the darkness of Alfred's room, Biffy Clyro began to fill the silence abruptly. The young American groaned in protest, shifting farther away from the shouting cell phone that laid under his pillow.

The tune stopped momentarily before starting up again.

"Fuck," Alfred gave up on ignoring the ringing of his cell phone, grabbing the sleek gadget and tapping the screen, answering the call from a random number. "What." was his greeting when he finally had the phone up to his ear.

"Ah, privyet, Alfred," the voice sounded slightly taken aback.

"Ivan?" Alfred rolled over to his stomach and lifted his upper half slightly, leaning on his forearms. "It's three A.M."

"I could not sleep," was the simple reply.

"So," Alfred held back a yawn. "you decided to call your fuck buddy?"

"Such vulgar words out of such a young mouth!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'd take that as a yes."

There was a giggle on the other end. "Da. I was wondering.."

"Oh god," Alfred moaned, interrupting the older male.

"If you would be so kind as to-"

"Phone sex?" Alfred's voice was clearly appalled. "How the fuck did I know, I just-"

"Would you kindly?" Alfred could almost see the Russian pouting, eyebrows furrowed sadly, eyes slightly wider than normal. The Russian had the sort of face that would pull that off quite well, Alfred decided as he pictured the older man.

Fuck.

Alfred sighed and whined lowly and ignored the small, miniscule pang he felt.

"Sure, big guy, lets have at it." There was a low chuckle that sounded right after those words were spoken; the sort of chuckle that exposed the Russian's usual childish tone as a façade - a clever, unneeded cover that clouded opinions and tricked minds of all kinds.

"What are you wearing, my little American?"

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Alfred listened to the low groans and shuddering breathes coming from his cell phone, his head swimming and spinning and lost. He was lost in Ivan's sounds; the groans and the moans and breathing. Every so often Ivan's breathing would hitch and Alfred's member would twitch. The older man would mumble words in his native tongue; words, sentences, names. Alfred paid so much attention to everything that came out of the Russian's mouth and it drove him so close to the edge.

"Ah," Alfred's breath hitched when the Russian let out a small whine and a sudden low purr from the back of his throat. "oh," he groaned lowly, his hand rubbing his member slightly faster. "o-oh, oh.. Ff- o-oh," Alfred's breathing sped up and he leaned back, he legs spreading out wider, his hand stroking faster.

"Mm, dorogoy, say my name," Ivan's voice was a low purr that sent shivers through the American's body; God that voice.

"I-Ivan, Ivan, oh- o-oh," breathlessly spent, heat pooled in Alfred's groin and the younger male grunted and whined lowly as he uncoiled and soiled his boxers. "God." Alfred could barely catch his breathe as he listened to the older man lose himself as well.

Alfred felt boneless, tired, warm.

"Spasibo, Alfred," the Russian said breathlessly, breathing into the phone as he tried to catch his breathe.

Alfred's reply was a breathless hum, and the young American once again ignored the small pang in his chest as the Russian said his goodnight and hung up.

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Alfred stared blankly at the wall opposite of him as he leaned against the counter, a mug of coffee cradled in his shaking hands. The area under his eyes were coloured a dark purple; his usually bright eyes were dimmed to a shaded blue as he continued to blankly stare at the kitchen's wall with a blank face, his mind running wild.

The American sipped at the bitter drink and ignored the noises his brother made when he walked in and made himself a bowl of cereal.

He ignored the noises of he brother reaching around him to put his bowl in the sink.

He ignored the voice of his brother, asking if he was alright.

He ignored the shifting of fabric as the Canadian shrugged and made his way out the door, quickly reminding him of his shift at the store.

He ignored the way he felt himself crack under the weight of his stupid thoughts and his stupid heart and his stupid way of being so fucking stupid.

Sometimes, Alfred couldn't help but hate the way he silently begged for the affection he had been deprived of ever since he was a kid.

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Dorogoy (Cyrillic: дорогой): Darling.
Sasibo (Cyrillic: Спасибо): Thank you/thanks.

Sorry this is late. I haven't been in a very good mood. If anyone wants a one shot, or is willing to give me a prompt, I'll gladly take it. It'll distract me.
Thanks, have a nice night/day. I'm going to bed.

If you find any typos, please feel free to tell correct me. I don't.. just, yeah. Cool.

Oh yeah. 107, you guys are really awesome. I'd be friends with all of you forever. Seriously.