"We're searching for them Switzerland, but right now, even their governments haven't said anything about their absence and we don't have enough evidence other than a scrap of paper you found. Just keep searching for now and if no one shows in two weeks, we'll have another meeting. Don't forget that even though she is your sister, she is a country first and can't share everything with you. Besides, she's tougher than you think."
And with that, Germany left a fuming Swiss in the conference room.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters.
Chapter 4
The emergency meeting had ended yesterday, but since all nations believed that he and America were barely civil towards each other, they had to leave separately before joining up later to continue planning. America had left immediately after, loudly discussing a rescue mission with the arguing Brit and Frenchman, as well as his Canadian twin.
Russia wanted to walk away with his former ally China so that he wasn't alone, but China fled towards Japan and his other siblings the moment he caught a glimpse of the tall blond. This meant the Russian ended up waiting until the room emptied (which with him in the room didn't take long) and now fully irritated, left towards the headquarters they had spent nine months building within his country since, apparently, America had secret headquarters built months before he had gathered enough to courage to ask Russia to join him.
Going through the halls towards the planning room, Russia pondered his situation. For many centuries, he had always been alone. Watching the flow of humanity, being an observer as his people changed and evolved, and though he changed with them, that feeling of loneliness always persisted. Even among other nations he was too strong, too powerful, too big. Too scary. No one wanted to be around the Russian and the loneliness grew to the point that if no one wanted to willingly be around him, he would force them. They would become one with him and then the loneliness would finally go away.
But it didn't, not really.
With Lenin and Stalin leading the USSR, he had felt an overwhelming joy at sitting at his family table with other nations, hearing the sounds of others in his big house. As the days passed however, he began to realize that he was still lonely. All of his guests hated and feared him; none would stay near him if they could help it, and whenever he entered a room it always became filled with a fearful silence.
By the time his war with the arrogant blond had reached its climax and all of his guests (prisoners, his mind would whisper to him) had long fled, Russia was just so tired. All he wanted was a companion; someone of equal strength who he could protect and be protected by. Someone who could look him in the eye without fear, who could fill that gaping hole widening in his chest.
But there wasn't a nation alive that wasn't scared of him, except for that stupid American. In fact, the blond idiot was the only one able to match him blow for blow without a shadow of fear. From what he remembered about the American before Lenin had ordered to stay away from the capitalist country, he and the American had been good friends while the younger nation was learning to stand on his own. America would be perfect despite his capitalist piggish ways. He was also rather attractive with his wheat blond hair and that endearing cowlick, dazzling sapphire blues hidden by a pair of smart glasses perched upon a pert button nose. He had an ever present Hollywood smile with perfect white teeth and plump pink lips, with a sunny personality to match his warm borders. And despite the many comments people would make about American obesity rates, Russia knew firsthand from all their fights that America was lean and muscular under those blue jeans and bulky bomber jacket. Other than the fact that they were currently enemies, he would be the perfect companion and it was just a matter of convincing the American as well.
They started fighting harder, their arguments thundered across conference rooms, fistfights started at the twitch of a hand, fingers never straying far from their guns. The world may have called it a Cold War, but Russia knew that this was a war of dominance; of two superpowers trying to impose their way upon each other. And at the end, even though he lost the battle, Russia knew he won the war when a shadow of curiosity darkened the victorious nation's gaze. He just had to play the waiting game until America gave in.
"Vanya, Vanya, yoohoo? Earth to Ivan?" a voice interrupted his reminiscing.
Russia blinked before focusing on his partner. Apparently he had been lost in thought long enough to get to the planning room without noticing.
"My apologies, Fredka. I was just deep in thought, we were going to continue planning, da?"
His sunflower frowned at him, worry present in his eyes before he nodded and moved towards the strategy table.
"We currently have prisoners 0001 through 0004. 0001 and 0003, formerly Liechtenstein and Northern Italy, with me while 0002 and 0004, formerly Prussia and South Italy, are with you. Based on their reactions, the first collection has made a massive effect on the nations, and as predicted, Switzerland will no longer claim neutrality. In fact, he may even act with recklessness and lead the others to a frantic frenzy as more nations begin disappearing. Unfortunately, his capture will have to be soon as he seems to be the easily paranoid type with decent defense."
"And the handkerchief of our flag? What was the point of warning them like that?" questioned Russia as he stood behind the shorter nation and wrapped his long arms snugly around America with his head resting against the blond's shoulders.
Russia reveled in the fact that the American only snuggled closer before answering. "It's the advertisement of the new regime, even if they don't know it yet, they should begin to learn its face. Right now, most of them believe it to be coincidence or at least an elaborate hoax, they don't want to believe in the possibility of a terrorist group, especially one that knows about our existence. Their ignorance and refusal to acknowledge a possible threat will be their downfall that will be rectified, but for now it will move things in our favor. The morons should've learnt from all their wars; no matter, this is why we're here to help them, right, Vanya?"
"Da. To create a world void of corruption, the breeding of ignorance and greed; the struggles of power, war, hunger, and the destruction of the world. We will raise an empire of one nation made of many lands under one flag. We will finally reach world peace by becoming the world." stated Russia passionately as he eagerly gripped America closer to him in his excitement.
"Together, side by side, we will usher in a new era of tranquility and hope, equals as we rule together."
America sighed in contentment and sunk further into Russia's arms as both gazed at the world map before they snapped back into planning mode, doing final touch ups on their first phase of capturing the nations.
"'Kay, these are the next four on our list…" America trailed off as he stuck four pins into the world map laid before him. The two nations continued discussing their ideas late into the night, taking breaks only to refuel or relieve themselves. Around 3 a.m., they shut everything down and headed through the sprawling mansion to their shared master bed for a brief respite.
America relaxed on the bed in nothing but a large shirt and his navy blue boxers that slowly tented and became tighter as he heatedly gazed at an oblivious Russian stripping for bed. When Russia had finished stripping to his boxers and placing his and America's clothes in the hamper (he'd carelessly left them on the floor) and carefully hung his scarf, he was somewhat surprised to find America casually stroking himself, precome beading at his tip.
"F-Fredka?!" choked Russia with wide amethyst eyes.
"Vanya, come here and join me." moaned America as he began lazily thrusting into his hand, darkened azure eyes captivating the Russian until he found himself walking dazedly to the bed and then carefully tackled and pinned to the bed beneath his American. Any movement he made to switch positions was met with equal force by America and as the blond began grinding his erection against the silverette, he was slightly shocked by the fact that he was becoming aroused at the feeling of his partner matching him in physical strength.
"Do you like that, Vanya? That I can easily pin you down and have my way with you without breaking a sweat?" muttered Alfred breathlessly as he held Ivan down with one hand while the other hand skimmed down their bodies to trace teasingly across their boxers. Slowly tugging the cloth down just enough to release their trapped erections, Alfred began stroking them as he ground their cocks together. Russia grunted as he half-heartedly tugged at the hand still holding him, now more focused on the body grinding down and the hand that was clumsily stroking him. Heated amethyst and azure eyes met before their lips messily drew together. Tongues clashed in a battlefield for dominance, heavy groans escaping as Alfred's hand continued stroking both of their cocks together, helped by the slick precome oozing from both their tips.
Alfred was the first to break away from their kiss, gasping for breath as he was drawn to the older nation's neck; peppering it with open mouthed kisses and tracing the collarbone with his tongue. Hearing the surprised gasps and moans only encouraged the blond further, delighted that he could reduce the older, usually controlled nation to mere sounds. He wanted to make more of those beautiful sounds leave the other's mouth, but Alfred didn't think he had the self-control to stop grinding against that lovely cock below him and explore the pale expanse of skin below him without coming on the spot; he was still trying to increase his stamina to last longer. As Ivan gave a harsh thrust upwards that momentarily threw Alfred out of his thoughts, he latched onto Ivan's nipple as an idea to hopefully get Ivan to come before him appeared. Sneakily removing his hand from pinning his Russian, Alfred focused on rolling his hips in a more sensuous manner as well as adding a twist at the top to his handjob in order to distract Russia while he sucked on two of his fingers, making sure they were thoroughly wet with spit. Alfred smirked as he leaned forward and tugged Ivan's boxers further down, just enough to be able to reach his prize.
Lost in the overwhelming sensation of his sunflower grinding above him with an unfamiliar, but pleasant dominance, he didn't notice the disappearance of the hand holding him down until he felt a spit slicked finger prodding gently between the cleft of his ass, rubbing against his untouched bud. With a shout, Ivan arched into Alfred, eyes wide in shock and mouth open in a silent scream. A few strokes later, America came with a loud gasp and shudder, the tantalizing picture of his Russian in the throes of orgasm.
Panting lightly and yanking his hand from between their sweaty bodies, Alfred placed light kisses all over Ivan as they both rested in post-coital bliss.
"Was it good?"
"Da, that was very good, my sunflower. No one's ever...touched that area before. Any of my past partners have been too submissive and afraid of me to do anything but lay below me. It was always consensual, but they made it feel like I was raping them." whispered Ivan as he tugged his American closer until they were eye to eye.
"Then screw those bastards, clearly they don't understand how great of a lover you are!" declared Alfred angrily, though he gently held Ivan's head between his hands; possessively carding his fingers through the platinum locks.
"Besides," he continued, "you're mine now. They don't get to touch."
Ivan's chest rumbled with soft chuckles as he cuddled his sunflower closer.
"Yours? Then does that make you mine?" hummed Ivan curiously. The American was his whether or not he said it, he'd just like to hear it out loud.
"Yep. You belong to me and I belong to you. Equal partners in everything; you know you wouldn't have it any other way." teased Alfred as he scooted down the Russian's body until his ear rested over the scarred skin where the Russian's heart beat was the strongest.
Gazing at his beautiful sunflower, Ivan felt his face flush. No one had ever wanted him just because they liked him (excluding his little sister Belarus with her desire to marry him), and no one had ever managed to become his equal. Only his Fredka had ever challenged him, made him want to dominate (not break, never break) the young nation and be dominated in return. It felt amazing and was one of the reasons he knew that the plans their partnership started from would make both succeed.
AN: Sorry for another M- scene, not every chapter is going to be like this, I just wanted to try my hand at it before continuing with the plot. Thanks for all the amazing reviews and continued in my stories.
