One sleeping bag, two horny men, you do the math.

Warning: Lemon, frotting, RusAme (in that order, most definitely), a little fluff, a flip out scene, threats, yatta yatta, you probably aren't even reading this by now for the lemon, I know.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though.

How Sweet Dreams Are Made

Alfred's eyes fluttered open… again. Ever since he had 'fallen asleep' an hour ago, he kept waking up. The cause of his restlessness was obvious: He was sleeping beside a rival that had harbored (or was still harboring) a deep urge to kill him a few decades back.

He was about to turn over, when he realized that the Russian had moved since his last doze; Ivan's cold chest was now pressed firmly against Alfred's clothed back. It was all Alfred could do not to give a startled yell or move and risk waking the Russian. But his sudden tension seemed to alert Ivan, and he instantly felt the strong arms snake around his torso and tighten, pulling him close to the other's chest. Alfred tried to get away, but the arms would not yield, and he was forced to lie there, hoping that he would somehow make it through the night without being throttled. Lord knew he had given Ivan plenty of reasons to do so.

Then his heart sped up. He felt the hands move again, slither lower. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Alfred bit his lip as he felt the fingers brush his waistline, venture lower and begin picking at the button of his jeans.

This isn't happening…

The button was inched out.

This isn't happening.

The zipper was pulled down.

This isn't happening.

Cold fingers brushed against his skin, tugged at the elastic of his shorts.

This isn't happening!

Alfred was beginning to regret his decision to choose Ivan over Francis, if he hadn't been already. If he had chosen Francis instead, he reasoned, he would have been groped, yes, but not by his sworn enemy, a former communist nation. And another note: everyone wouldn't be as surprised to find out what had conspired in the night if he had gone with Francis.

Alfred held his breath, too afraid to move. Maybe if he didn't respond the Russian would get bored and leave him alone? But he was far from the truth. Ivan's fingers now crawled downward through his pubes, pausing just above his dick that was responding slightly.

And then Ivan's lips were brushing his ear, his breath making Alfred shiver. "I know that you are awake, Alfred."

His purr made Alfred's cock twitch to life, and the American thought, Traitor!

Alfred didn't respond, even though he knew the other man could feel the rapidity of his breathing and the hammering of his heart.

"Alfred~" Ivan whispered. "I know that you can hear me."

Again, Alfred said nothing.

He felt Ivan frown slightly and the hand in Alfred's jeans slipped down to the base of his hardening cock. Alfred took a sharp intake of breath and was sure Ivan heard. Ivan smirked against his ear, grasping with his cold fingers Alfred's arousal and giving it a slow, deep-fisted pump. Immediately, Alfred's cock was standing at full mast, already dripping, anticipating. After so long without jerking off Alfred couldn't control it. Ivan chuckled, the sound going straight to his dick. Alfred tried not to buck his hips into that cold, skilled hand, a hand that knew every way to turn the American on. Ivan gave him a few more pumps before stopping and rubbing his thumb in rough circles at the base of the head, pressing, teasing. Alfred bit his lip. Dammit…

When he still didn't respond, Ivan heaved a seductive sigh, his breath assaulting Alfred's ear and released his cock. "Oh, well… this would hardly be enjoyable if you were not awake." And his lips left his ear, his hand slipped halfway out of his pants before Alfred made his decision. He couldn't just lay there with a hard-on and expect to relieve himself when Ivan was so close to him. Plus, it was totally un-herolike to jerk off in the presence of a villain, so…

Alfred's hand suddenly darted to Ivan's which was still halfway inside his pants, fingers tugging at his pubes tantalizingly close to the base of his cock. He held the wrist for a moment or so and then pushed the hand slowly back into his pants. "Don't stop,"

The words were hardly audible, and Alfred wondered for a moment if Ivan had heard him, but the Russian wasted no time in taking up his cock again, his strokes more vigorous than before.

Alfred knew he would regret it, but he let his voice run free, though low in volume as to not wake the others. It wasn't like the Russian had never heard it before; the only difference now was that it was so heroically sexy…

Ivan pulled and squeezed at his length with skilled hands, continuing to chuckle into his ear, sending shudders cascading down Alfred's back. "Hmhm, you are shameful, Alfred. Are you such a slut that you accept the coaxing hands of one who not long ago was your most hated enemy? And in such times, under such conditions as intended rape? Have you no thought of your daughter who sleeps just across the clearing? What if she wakes and finds that we are in the act? Humility, Alfred. You need some desperately, it seems." And he squeezed the American's shaft.

Alfred gasped, but didn't say anything, horrified at the possibility of his daughter waking to find Ivan jerking him off, his cum splattered all over himself and the sleeping bag…

"No response," Ivan growled into his neck. "As always. So paranoid."

Ivan's hand continued to move up his shaft more quickly, almost urgently. Alfred let out a soft moan and pushed back against him, realizing why the Russian was so anxious.

Even through Alfred's jeans, he could feel Ivan's prominent hard-on. So, Alfred wasn't looking so shameful after all, eh? He wanted to voice this, but Ivan seemed to sense his intention and bit his neck harshly, causing Alfred's words to be swallowed by a startled yelp.

Alfred couldn't hold in his moans as Ivan licked the wound, sucking greedily. The American bucked into his hand, his face flooding with warmth. It suddenly seemed that his clothes were too hot and constricting and Alfred longed to take them off, but he thought about how suspicious it would look if everyone else woke up and saw that he had discarded his clothes when sleeping by a supposed enemy.

Ivan's chuckle made Alfred buck into his hand again. "You are feeling… strained, da? So, what will it be, Alfred? Take off your clothing and experience the best orgasm you have had in months, or keep them on and play it safe? Decide quickly, Alfred, you can feel my impatience." He ground his swollen length into Alfred's jean-clad ass as proof.

Alfred gave a helpless groan and didn't know whether to buck up into the hand still stroking him vigorously or grind back against the large cock offered to him.

Then Alfred made his decision. He hastily kicked off his jeans and allowed Ivan to pull down his boxers, the Russian chuckling darkly at his sudden reckless abandon. He could pull his clothes back on afterward. No big deal. Now Alfred pressed his bare ass back against Ivan's arousal, the only thing separating him from the pulsing heat being the thin fabric of Ivan's underwear.

"Mmm," Alfred moaned. "I forgot how big you are."

Ivan half-chuckled half-growled into Alfred's neck, the American's chin tipped upward so that he could gain access to a vaster expanse of skin. "Hmm, I would have thought after feeling it before, one would not be so apt to forget." He bit down again.

Alfred arched into him and moaned. "A-ah… easy. I-I don't want too many. It'll be hard to hide the one you gave me earlier as it is."

Ivan growled and grabbed his hip, forcing him back into the curve of his pelvis, grinding his cock into him, cold fingers digging into Alfred's naked flesh. "I will do what I want to you now that I have you. You know how I like to mark what is mine."

"Yeah, well you did that last time—ah!" Alfred yelped when Ivan bit down once more. "Hey, watch it, dude! Not so close to my jugular. It's freaky."

Ivan bit down again, and Alfred arched his back. "Hm, you like it, da? Besides, I like a sense of danger. It's exciting."

"No," Alfred replied. "It's freaky." He ground against the Russian in spite of himself. "Mmm, oh fuck, yes…"

Ivan growled as he thrust his hips forward, meeting Alfred halfway and grinding his aching cock into the cleft of Alfred's delicious ass. "You want me to fuck you, da? I can feel that you want me…" His hand continued to pump Alfred's leaking cock, increasing his speed. Alfred purred and pushed hard back against him.

"Fuck yes…" Alfred was about to ask Ivan to pull down his shorts, but stopped, casting a wary glance at Marge. "N-no, wait." He turned to face the Russian, pressed chest-to-sweaty-chest. He was almost scared to look up, to meet those violet eyes he knew were burning with lust which would possibly awaken his recklessness or cause him humiliation. "I-I can't. But, fuck, do I want to." He reached down and pulled the waistband of Ivan's shorts away, releasing his massive cock, the sound of it slapping erectly against the Russian's hard stomach making Alfred whimper with want. He ghosted his fingertips up the taut shaft, moaning as the veins pulsed beneath the tight skin.

"We'll just have to do this to get off." Alfred said, giving the Russian's cock a few eager strokes. He could feel Ivan's eyes on him, no doubt enjoying the show he was giving. He gave Ivan a few more pumps before he tugged at his own dick. Then an idea hit him.

Alfred slid forward until they were practically hip-to-hip and grabbed his and Ivan's cocks in one hand, sliding it up and down their shafts. He heard Ivan purr and his hands trailed over Alfred's side and found his ass, squeezing his cheeks and making Alfred moan and buck into him.

"I could do it this way," Ivan whispered, prodding at his pulsing hole with one icy finger. "if you want."

"No," Alfred said breathlessly. "I'd be too-too sore… they'd know I was…" But his last words were lost as the Russian pressed him flush against his cold chest—a welcome reprieve from the heat of lust.

"Very well," Ivan said, his hands moving under Alfred's shirt and to his chest, fingers tweaking his pert nipples, making the American gasp. "Then you have to do the work."

Alfred felt like making a retort, but he could feel his orgasm coming on. He sped up his strokes, loving the feel of Ivan's hard-on against his own, how he could feel the pulsing veins, feel every aroused twitch…

"So close…" Alfred tipped his head back, allowing Ivan to plunder his neck with his lips, tongue, and teeth. "Oh, fuck, I-Ivan…"

"Mmm, come for me, шлюха." Ivan groaned, thrusting up into the hand that was still pumping him, sucking at a soft spot in the crook between Alfred's collarbone and neck.

Alfred bit his lip to keep from crying out as he came hard and hot into his own hand, hips bucking uncontrollably against Ivan's own hard length, hand still stroking. The orgasm was never ending; he felt as if he'd had his first sip of water for months. Ecstasy was rolling through him in waves, and he was sure this was the best orgasm he'd had since before the Uprising. He was so absorbed in his pleasure, that he barely noticed Ivan grunting, his heavy breaths against his bitten neck, as he came in hot, wet spurts onto Alfred's hand.

Afterward, they lay there for a moment, reveling in the much-needed afterglow. Alfred didn't even notice his hand was still moving softly over their throbbing lengths, until Ivan stalled his hand and took it into his, cradling it against his chest which was still heaving. Alfred finally turned his head up to look at Ivan, his violet eyes half-lidded and dark.

Alfred wanted so much to sleep, but he knew he had to clean up. "I-I have to… this mess…" He took back his hand from Ivan and began to move his discarded clothes around, but Ivan quickly pinned his arms to his side.

"It is almost sunrise." he whispered, the huskiness gone from his voice. He nodded to the east where surely the sun was making its way into the sky, casting a grayish hue to the horizon.

Alfred looked back up at Ivan. "But… but, I have to…"

"Shh, малютка." he said. "You must sleep." And he kissed Alfred's forehead and hugged him to his chest, rubbing circles in his tired back. "Sleep, little one."

Alfred was too tired to protest or even think what weird behavior this was for Ivan. Even though Alfred had barely slept that night, he found now, strangely, that sleep beckoned to him and he tumbled into darkness and dreams, undisturbed with Ivan's arms around him.

"Huh, that's weird."

A voice that stuffy can only belong to one person… Alfred opened his eyes a crack and saw Arthur standing not far from him, examining an empty sleeping bag.

"Where could frogface have gone? It's too early in the morning for any of us to be awake. Then again, we could just pack up and go and perhaps he'll never find us again." Arthur gave a triumphant laugh. "Hahahaha, that would do wonders for the lot of us! Ahahaha!"

Alfred wanted to investigate too (he was nosy like that), but he suddenly remembered he was naked from the waist down. He quickly pulled on his pants, trying not to wriggle too much and alert Ivan who was dozing like a bear beside him. Alfred hoped Arthur hadn't noticed that Ivan had been sleeping with his arms around him.

"What's the matter, bro?" Alfred was doing up the button of his pants as he stood.

Arthur turned to him, quickly composing himself. "Oh, Alfred, I didn't know you were awake. Did you hear my news?" His face broke out into a wide smile. "Frogface is gone! Hurry, wake the others and we'll be out of here in no time! He'll never know we left without him! Hahaha!" He had a slightly manic gleam in his eyes, excitement pulsing through him.

"Take it easy, man. It's too early to move stuff. And no one's even woken up yet." Alfred cast looks around at each sleeping bag. "Are you sure Francis didn't just climb into someone else's—OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCKINGHELL?!"

Arthur jumped and everyone in the clearing was woken, shouting out their annoyances. But Alfred was too busy to notice. He was currently staring down at his daughter's empty sleeping bag in horror.

"Oh no," Arthur said, coming up behind him. "Alfred, I'm sure she must be somewhere nearby… look, she's taken her rifle with her, she should be safe—"

But Alfred didn't respond as he began searching the forest around the clearing, calling out, "Marjorie? Montana? Baby, where are you? Please, tell me if you're there!"

"Calm down, Al." Matthew was saying, but Alfred ignored him, continuing to search.

A few more seconds passed before a figure stumbled into the clearing. "You called, ami?" Francis gave a charming smile, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Immediately, Alfred stormed toward him.

"Al…" Matthew's warning intensified as Alfred grabbed Francis by the front of his shirt and backed him toward a tree. "Al! Stop!"

But Alfred didn't stop. He pinned Francis to the trunk and held him there, one arm on his shoulder, the other arm bent, pressed into the Frenchman's throat. "Where is she?"

Francis's eyes were wide. "W-what do you mean?"

Alfred pulled him away and slammed him back against the trunk again. "Don't lie to me. Don't lie to me!"

"Alfred!" Arthur called out. "Calm down!"

"Not until he tells me where she is!"

"Where who is, ami?" Francis asked meekly.

"You know who it is!" Alfred said, still angry. "Don't play dumb! I know you've been screwing around with my daughter!"

Francis's eyes widened. "No, no, ami! Never! What would make you think—?"

"A whole fucking number of things!" Alfred growled, now nose-to-nose with the Frenchman. Then he lowered his voice to a dangerous pitch, "Don't. Lie. To. Me. I don't much like the sneaking around you've been doing. And you did it last night in the cabin too. I saw it!"

Francis's eyes widened even more. "B-but, I was only checking to see if the radio was still working…"

Alfred slammed him into the tree again. "Didn't I already tell you not to lie to me?"

"Al!"

"Shut up, Mattie. I'm busy."

"I-I do not understand!" Francis said. "I didn't do anything to Marge. I never touched her!"

Alfred's voice dropped, but not so much that the rest of the camp couldn't hear it. "If you so much as touched her—"

"Dad?"

Marge was pushing her way into the camp. Alfred quickly released Francis, shoving him away. He rushed over to his daughter, wrapping his arms around her and casting the dirtiest look he could muster toward Francis, who stood, bewildered, off to the side.

"Oh, baby, where were you? Why did you go out so early without telling anyone?"

"I told Francis where I was going."

Alfred glared at Francis once again.

Marge looked nonplussed. "Was there something… you two were doing before I got here?"

Alfred quickly turned back to her. "What? No, no! Hey…" He now surveyed her for the first time. "Did you cut your hair?"

Marge snorted, pushing her short bangs behind her ears, her brown hair now styled in a short ponytail. "Obviously, Dad. I went down to the river so that I could see myself. It's not far from here. I just figured it was getting too long. It would get in the way. Hell, it almost caught fire yesterday."

"And did you see… Francis at all?"

Marge raised a suspicious eyebrow. "No… but I saw him before I left. He said that he was going to gather some berries he saw while running through the forest yesterday. He said he just thought he'd pick some for breakfast… um, Dad?" Alfred was now staring at Francis, his anger lightened a bit, but his gaze was still venomous. "What happened? Was there trouble or something?"

"No," Alfred replied. "No, just tell me next time when you'll be going somewhere, okay?"

"Right, sorry."

"And make sure you go with someone else." Alfred flashed a look at Francis that obviously meant 'don't you dare try to volunteer.' "We can't be sure if this forest is safe."

Marge scoffed. "Dad, I can handle myself perfectly fine. See," She swung her deer rifle around to her front, the gun hanging in a sling. "Besides, you shouldn't be worried about me. I've lived for almost all my life in the wild. It's you who you should be worrying about."

Alfred ignored her last comment. "Yeah, just make sure you go with someone, all right? I want your back covered."

Marge sighed with annoyance and turned to walk back to her sleeping bag. "Whatever."

"Well," Alfred turned to everyone else. "What are you all staring at?"

Arthur flashed him a malicious look while Matthew sighed and shook his head. "So melodramatic, Al…"

"Ivan?" Marge had finished packing her sleeping bag and was now staring questioningly at the Russian.

Ivan cast her a glance from his place bent over his sleeping bag. Alfred was sitting a little ways away, trying to ignore the lecherous looks he was getting from Ivan when he came across a splattering of cum hidden from everyone else's oblivious eyes. "Da?"

"Did you see any smoke while you were on watch?"

Ivan stiffened, and Alfred smiled smugly. He had shirked his guard duty to have sex with him. Ha! "Nyet. I did not see any."

"Good," Marge nodded and sat cross-legged on the ground and began loading her rifle. "Who did you wake up for watch next?"

Ivan paused before saying, "Alfred. I figured it would only be fair since I was letting him share my sleeping bag." And he gave Alfred another lecherous smirk.

"Dad? Did you see anything?"

"No, nothing at all, sweetheart."

"There's a town nearby." she went on, cocking her rifle and putting it back in its sling over her shoulder. "We're running low on supplies. And we haven't eaten much. That survival food is barely edible anyway. Feli's weak and Gilbert and Lovino are injured. We'll need some medicine too."

"Humph," Ludwig walked over to his older brother. "I forgot." He rolled up Gilbert's shirt (much to the Prussian's displeasure) and huffed. "Verdammt. You must have strained your back while pulling Lovino out of that cabin."

Gilbert glanced back over his shoulder. "It can't be that bad. I feel awesome, kesese!" He winced as Ludwig ran a finger softly down one scar. "Dammit. I think I can still feel some glass in there. Fucking splinters…"

"I have a pair of tweezers." Matthew said, about to dig them out of the first aid kit.

"No," Yao said. "I've seen this kind of wound before." He said it with a sadness that indicated he was referring to his lost loved ones. "We have to wait until we get some disinfectant before we risk trying to get the glass shards out. If we don't he might be at risk for infection."

"Well, I fucking don't want that." Gilbert said, darting away from Ludwig and hastily pulling his shirt down. "Is it bad?"

"You reopened some of your scabs." Ludwig reported. "Your bandages are soaked with dried blood."

Gilbert winced again. "So that's why it feels so unawesome back there…"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "When are we leaving?"

"Now," said Marge. "The earlier we get there, the best chances we have of not running into anyone who might have the same idea."

"Ve~But I'm hungry." Feliciano's stomach rumbled.

"I know you are, Feli." Arthur replied. "But we can't afford to linger around here. Francis, you said you gathered some berries?"

Francis nodded. "And some pine nuts as well." He took out a small bag.

… which Ludwig quickly snatched up. "These look… okay." he said after studying them a little.

Francis snatched the bag back with offense and offered it to Feliciano. "Here. Eat these."

"Ve…" Feliciano looked worried. "But, aren't you hungry too?"

"Oui, but you are sick." Francis replied. "You need this more than we do."

Lovino sidled up next to him. "You're going to share those, right?"

Feliciano smiled at him. "Of course, Lovi~!"

"We have to eat on the run." Kiku said. "Everyone make sure you have your weapons at the ready." His hand went to rest on the hilt of his katana.

Sadiq nodded. "I'll bring up the back of the group. I say the weaker ones stay in the middle."

"Right, that sounds good." Marge looked around and motioned for the Italians to come first. "Come here, you two. And you too, Gilbert."

The Italies came without protest. It appeared like they were afraid if they didn't get there fast enough, someone else would take their places.

But Gilbert put his hands on his hips. "What? Nein! The awesome me must be near the front. Ja, I will not settle for less."

"Then I'll have to make sure you stay in the middle, da?" Ivan said, smiling creepily.

Gilbert immediately when stark white. "N-nein, I'll go in the middle."

"Wise choice, Gilbert." Ivan smirked.

"I'll lead the group, then!" Alfred said before catching Marge's eye. "Uh, well… I do have to know where I'm going…"

"In that case, I'll lead."

In the end, Marge, Alfred, Arthur, Kiku, and Ludwig were in the front, while Yao, Sadiq, Matthew, and Ivan took up the rear.

Translations:

шлюха-slut

малютка-little one

A Word From the Writer: Whoa there. America got his testosterone going berserk for a little while there (most likely from he and Ivan's little stint in the dark, cough cough). But, really, France, no matter how creepy he is, is not a rapist. A pervert, yes. A romantic, most definitely. But a rapist, never. You will see just how much he loathes it later on in the story.

Next chapter, ho!