"Wow, you have not grown an inch!" her boss's cowlick bounced as he continues to compare his height with hers. "Aw, are you even five feet?" he chuckles and ruffles her hair as usual. The hotel employees gasp and back up in fear for although they do not know much of their darling country, Sirena, they knew very well not to pick on her height. The island's economy ran on the tourism industry, so those working in hotels, restaurants, are constantly reminded to be on their best behavior whether serving a local or tourist, and sometimes, but rarely, a country. Alfred is well-known due to Sirena being an American territory, and frequently visits whether it be business or to bother her. Yet, he continues to be inept on learning not to make fun of her.

She swiftly swings her leg, using the tip of her boot to hit him right on the knee. She continues to smile, but everyone can see through her grinning facade as she watches Alfred fall to his injured knee and cringe. "Nice to see you too, America, would you like to stay in your usual room?" she wanted to keep her cool with her back straight, head up high, and chest out to be the best example. Of course, if it was Alfred, then she can make an exception.

"Y-You need help with your bags, sir?" the bellhop remembers his job and approaches Alfred, unsure whether to help him up or not.

"Y-Yeah."

She stares down at him with a smirk, and then is surprised another car followed him. The driver steps out and opens the passenger door revealing England. He holds the same expression as hers when he sees Alfred still holding his knee, giving a look of approval, "How do you do, dear Sirena? I see America has greeted you already." She accepts his shy kiss on the cheek, "How have you been, dear?"

"Oh, it's still the same old same old here," since she assisted America during World War II, she has become formally acquainted with the countries in the Allied Forces. Today is the first time a G8 meeting is being held on her island. She has planned their stay a month ahead, visiting the restaurants, hotels, malls, and sending emails to managers constantly reminding them to be on their best behavior. She feels giddy as the back door opens from Arthur's car, "Good morn-"

Francis sends Arthur flying as he pushes him aside, "Ah, bonjour!" Even though she is the focus of his attention, he gives a wink to the ladies his radar spotted in the hotel before smacking a kiss on both cheeks. His arm he tucked behind his back brings out a bouquet of roses, "Ah, I bought these fresh from France."

She naturally blushes and takes the roses, "M-Merci beaucoup."

Francis opens his arms to give her an intimate hug, but Arthur picked himself up and headlocks him. His gentleman side has disappeared once France appeared, "You damn bloke, I give you a ride and pay for those flowers, and this is what you do?"

Sirena gestures the bellhop to take their bags as well, "What about the other five?" she asks Alfred who healed up.

A small voice perks up, "I-I'm here too." She jumps back in surprise to the fellow who looked strikingly like Alfred, "Ah, good morning."

"Oh, I'm sorry Matthew!" her head lists all the excuses she can say, but only bits and pieces come out as a stutter.

"No, it's okay, I-" his voice vanishes when Francis and Arthur's car drives off and two taxis arrive.

She shifts the bouquet on her left arm to leave her right hand free as she sees Ludwig step out first. Then Feliciano, who could not contain himself from bouncing over to her. He totally ignores her outstretched hand and that she held flowers and squished her against his chest. She can't help it, she couldn't control where her head is going to land in a hug, as long as it isn't their armpit. Silently, in her mind, she cries and Feli pulls her out of the hug to get a look, "Ciao, bella! What a beautiful land you are! We only got a sight of the beaches in the drive here, but everything looks so beautiful!"

"Thank you," she sees the tall German man motion himself to her. Compared to everyone, she is painstakingly obviously small. She tries her best to ignore the jabs her heart is taking when Ludwig has to bend forward a little to shake her hand.

"Thank you for having us," he holds a stern face and gave a really strong grip in the handshake that Sirena couldn't help but wince. "S-Sorry!" the seriousness left his face as concern and embarrassment swept over.

"I-It's fine," Kiku patiently waits for Ludwig to step aside and you two exchange a bow. You and Japan have been on friendly terms since he is also a daily visitor, plus most of the tourists who came to Sirena usually reside in Japan. She spoke to him in Japanese since he seemed more comfortable with his language. Before he can respond to her greeting, Alfred lets out a sudden laugh. They turn and see why.

Ivan, the most intimidating in height and personality, steps out of the taxi, sweating profusely. In his arm hung his coat and scarf, and he had a few buttons of his shirt loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He's panting and shooting daggers at Alfred who Sirena kept nudging with her elbow, failing to keep him from giggling. However, when he locks his amethyst eyes with her blue-green eyes his lips curve into a loving smile and straightens himself. Out of all the accents, she found his to send her shudders as he says in a husky low tone, "Hello, Sirena."

She can feel herself smiling like a fool as the arrow from Cupid strikes her heart and sends a blush across her cheeks, "H-Hi!"

The moment is ruined when Alfred steps in, "Wow, you can be his arm rest!" He places his arm instead on top of her head and without any hesitance, she grabs his palm and puts pressure on a specific part, sending him back on his knees. "Fuck! Okay!"

"Shall we show you all to your rooms?" she spoke casually, still holding Alfred's palm.

...

"Excuse me, Ms. Sirena," one of the young girls who worked at the front desk called for her attention as the countries are shown to their rooms.

"Hm?" she finds herself gazing at Ivan's back since his skin showed a little due to the sweat.

"Do you have a crush and Mr. Russia?" she whispered, loudly. Sirena quickly faces the worker when she saw Ivan's head swerve, "Oh!" The worker covers her mouth as Sirena tries her best to not jump behind the desk.

The other women behind the desk had their eyebrows raised and cocked their head towards her for an answer. "Ahem, no, I'm-uh-"

"Then Mr. America?"

"HA!" her exclamation echoed through the lobby, "Now, that's a laugh."

"Oh, but you two have that look!" comments another worker.

"What look?"

"You know, the look," she makes a motion with her hands.

Sirena scoffs, scoops her long dark brown hair on one side to fiddle with it, "There's no look."

"Oh, how did you two meet?!" jumps in another worker. Really, she knows she should be pressing them to go back to work, but there are no guests to assist. No wonder they are so curious to take a nip of her.

"Well, during World War II, I attended to most of the troops' wounds, and his were the worst." She can remember her luscious beaches littered with rubble, and having to drag soldiers out of gunfire and back to base. She particularly remembers Russia since he was the heaviest she ever had to pull on her own. He was transported by water to her island from America. It was their first meeting, and it wasn't as romantic as she's seen in the movies. His torso wrapped up in bloodied bandages, with a huge bruise on his cheek and a gash on top his head. And, her face smudged with dirt, blood and sweat. She placed all her attention on him in the tiny hospital they had. She reminisces his grunts of pain when she had to disinfect his wounds on his chest. The worst was when he required stitches on the gash.

"Quit fucking moving," Sirena demanded after cleaning the blood from his head. "This gash is pretty deep, it really needs stitches," she watches him writhe and cuss at the pain he felt everywhere. He wasn't the only one moaning and groaning in the room, but he is the only one cursing in Russian.

"I don't need them," his voice is coarse and he gives her a cold look.

It doesn't intimidate her at all. He calmly watches her and feels the makeshift pillow slide out from beneath his neck. She gently lifts his head over her crossed legs and he stares up at her. The tiny needle shines between her cracked lips with thread hanging off it as she pulls her hair back up and high. She takes the needle in her right hand as her left brushes his hair back to reveal the wound. Seeing that he flinched, her instinct was to run her fingers through his hair. The strands with dried blood separate as his breathing slows down. "How is Russia?" she asks with a soothing voice as her free hand cups his left cheek. "Before the war."

He finds himself blushing as their faces are only two inches apart, even though it's necessary for her. "It's-" he feels the needle and presses his cheek into her hand. She gives him time, "It's cold-ah-snowing."

"I have yet to see snow," she rubs her thumb up and down as she continues to pierce his skin. She retains her focus although she realizes how intimate this exchange is getting, feeling a blush creep. This is the first time they are meeting, she wonders if he even knows that she is a territory, she knew well who he was thanks to America, but he had yet to disclose who she really was.

Russia can feel the jealous scowls of the other injured soldiers, and can hear them mutter of how they didn't receive that type of comfort from her. Once she took a second to look up, they all shushed and quickly changed their focus on something else. He had her all to him, and brought himself to observer her face. Her eyebrows furrowed, a few scratches on her cheek and a mix of grime and blood dried on her forehead. The intensity in her eyes, and her small chatters to herself made him feel at ease and the pain lessen. She pauses, seeing him struggle to raise his left arm.

"I'm not do-" she stops herself as his gloved hand goes on top of hers. It stiffly brushes against her hand, catching her off guard. In a short moment, he snaps the memory of her expression. Eyes wide, mouth quivering, and a pink tint invading her face. He shuts his eyes, obtaining the image.

"Ms. Sirena? You were saying?" the word "war" brought everyone's attention to her and they anticipated the story, but she stops reminiscing and slips away hearing them complain to themselves that they have to go back to work.

...

Sirena decides to check the ballroom the meeting is to be held in. Luckily, there is still a three hour gap before it is supposed to start. Her black heels clicked on the shimmering white tiles as she approaches the circular table set with eight cushioned red chairs. She passes it, approving the simple look and struts to the window where it displays the hotel pool and beach. Looking closer she can see a shirtless America run outside along with Italy and a few others. America spots her and waves his arm up and down inviting her to join. She sends him a smile and a thumbs up.

The next time they found each other was during the Cold War, but this time they faced each other as enemies. America used Sirena to harbor nuclear missile submarines, long-range bombers, and many other facilities for electronic intelligence gathering. It was 1990, the war was coming to an end, but unexpectedly Russian troops arrived on her island. It took everyone by surprise as they attempted to overtake a facility storing nuclear weapons that was surrounded by a jungle. Using nature as their cover she led a troop to pause their plans and she took aim for the general. Guns fired, soldiers yell in confusion or pain, and using that Sirena navigates her way through the mixture of men towards their leader. He saw her coming a mile away, and when he turned the flash of his violet eyes caught her off guard. Although she was the one holding the pistol all he had to do was flick it out of her hand and grab her throat.

To him, she looked like a tiny teenage boy trying to play hero in a soldier's uniform.

She claws at his wrists, trying to take glimpses of his face, but her helmet hung over her eyes. She kicked her feet, but they were two feet off the ground and only swung around helplessly. She can hear Russian commands and her troop dropping to their knees, and then he lets her drop to the ground as someone else pins her from behind. Sirena does her best to sputter the dirt that forced itself in her mouth as she hears the sound of heavy boots and a cock of a gun. It's the first time in a long while, she felt fear run through her spine making her let out a whimper as the grip on her arms grow tighter.

A loyal soldier cries out, "Don't hurt her!"

The others join in, "Please, not her!"

"Take the stuff, and go!"

"Leave our dear Sirena!"

Tears overflowed from her eyes and her heart races as Ivan and his men seem to mutter in confusion. Her emotions overtook her as she felt her body uncontrollably shake and the lump in her throat burst. Sobs escaped her and she buries her forehead in the ground, trying to get a hold of herself. However, the individual who held her forces her to sit up on her knees. As she did, her helmet falls, revealing her tear stained face, tussled short hair, and eyes filled with fright looking up at an old ally who had aimed at her head. He had a blood-curdling fixed look which soon dispensed into despair, and he drops the gun. "You."

He crouched and reached to touch her face, but she flinches and her body jerks back. "Mm," she can't speak. She finds herself frozen in his presence. "N-No."

With a wave of his hand and a booming authoritative voice he calls his men off them. Hers rush to her side, standing around her with their guns pointed at Ivan, and his do the same. She wanted to give them an order, but couldn't stop her shaking and held herself tightly. "You're the girl, from..." she couldn't bring herself to look in his eyes like the way they did the first time. "Are you..." he pauses. "Who are you?"

"She's-" one soldier spoke up, but she strikes an arm in the air to cut him off.

"I-I'm," she helps herself up. "I'm-" her eyes are shut closed, but she gathers all the grit she had left and snaps at Ivan. "I am Sirena! American territory!"

His lavender orbs grow wide and he stumbles backwards a little, touching the place she has stitched. "I'm sorry."

Moments of silence pass until she brings herself to say, "Take whatever damn supplies you want, but don't make the body count grow. On both sides."

Instead, he completely called his troop off.

Since then, until today, they have not contacted to each other. Although he can send her quivering in terror, Sirena had found herself infatuated with the terrifying Russia. Secretly, anticipating his presence.

She steps back, but thumps against someone. "HYA!" she twists around and peer up at Ivan. "Oh, ahem. Hey!"

He stood in blue swim shorts that went up to his knees and a tight white polyester shirt that covered his neck. "H-Hello. I just wanted to say-"

She watches him stumble, but gazes at the forehead she stitched up decades ago. Without warning, she tiptoes, and sweeps his hair aside. The stitches are gone, but there still is a tiny pink line making her crack a smile, "S-Sorry!" she pulls her hand back, but he catches her wrist. It is the same hand that had snatched her throat years back, she couldn't help but gaze at it. His hand felt rough, this is the first time he has touched her without his glove on.

Ivan loosens his grip and gently lays her palm on his, "I never got to apologize. I was so afraid of harming you. I don't want that at all." Sirena lets him lean down to kiss her hands, "You, gave me such comforting warmth. I gave up hope seeing you again, I didn't know who you were." He lifts her hands against her forehead, "I didn't mean to make you cry, dear Sirena. Please forgive me."

She has forgiven him long ago. If Arthur and Alfred can tolerate each other since their separation she found no reason to hold grudges against Ivan. He sincerely cared for her, all her waiting and rejecting other men's courts seemed to be worth it. She tiptoes, and runs her hand through his hair once more, revealing a pink line that is nearly invisible. He leans his cheek in her hand and closes his eyes. His silver hair glimmered in the sunlight reminding her of snow, giving her an old topic. "How's Russia?"

He returns the grin.

...

"Sirena! What the heck? Toss off the shirt!" yells Alfred when he spots her and steps out of the salt water with his right hand hiding a water gun. He hides a giggle seeing that she is wearing a really large shirt that could makeshift as a short dress.

She glowers at him, "I'm not planning on getting wet."

"Oh?" she squeals as the cold water stored from the water gun sprays her face and shirt. She can hear him laughing and running back to the water, "Alfred Jones!" Sirena then notices Kiku burying and shaping Feliciano like a mermaid in the sand as Ludwig helped, Francis checking out the ladies, and Arthur having his coffee ruined by Alfred aiming and splashing water all over him. Matthew sat by himself, but he doesn't seem bothered being bathed by the sun.

A long-legged tourist wearing a two piece walks by with her equally good-looking friend. Sirena goggled their legs enviously until Ivan appears by her side, "Oh, I thought you weren't going to swim?" He invited her to join the group, and to talk, and she accepted as long as he didn't mind her not swimming.

"Well, America ruined that for me," she twists her shirt around not wanting to submit to taking it off. Alfred continues wreaking havoc and starts shooting at Matthew. However, it is hot, hotter than most days. She shades her eyes and stares out into the ocean, "If you're hot why don't you jump in?"

She can already see drops of sweat from his forehead, "I don't kno-" Serina ducks as Alfred pops out of the bushes in front of her and blasts Ivan.

"Shit," he scurries off as she walks down the stone steps to Feli. "You're missing boobs," she begins forming a mountainous breasts over his chest. "What?" she sees Ludwig trying to hide his smile and Kiku shyly taking pictures.

Feli gapes at the size she is going for, "Ah! I can't see past the mountains now!"

...

"Since when did those two get close?" mutters Alfred to himself as he sees Ivan and Sirena sitting under shade and talking.

"Oh? Do I hear a hint of jealousy?" teases Arthur.

"HA!" Alfred lets out a sarcastic laugh and completely soaks Arthur.

...[Totes magotes is gonna get rated R]

The next five years passed with Sirena and Ivan keeping in close touch. However, she is surprised by the amount of self control Ivan had, unless he didn't want to do anything intimate. On dates they held hands and did whatever adorable couples would do. Kiss each other everywhere on the face, and occasionally make out when she let him stay at her house. However, he never stepped over the line, and she was too shy to push him over. This time...

It's their fifth Valentine's Day together, but her first to step into his house. She shivered in the limousine Ivan has sent to pick her up from the airport. She can see the chauffeur look at her with concerned eyes through the rear view mirror. She only wore two layers of clothing on top consisting of a thin long sleeved black shirt and a long red coat Alfred bought for her as a Christmas gift. It did not work as well, and she regretted not wearing another sweater inside.

"What?" the driver opens her door, revealing the enormous stone mansion. Stepping up the stairs she sees light leaking out of a few windows and a balcony above the front door. Her driver opens the door leading into a large empty corridor with gold tiles and chandelier hanging up top. Two-way stairs circle up to the second floor and a vase of sunflowers wait on the top. She turns to her driver, "When did Russia say he will be home again?"

He checks his watch, "Let's see, it's about 8:04 now...In about an hour ma'am, shall I help you with your bags?" He holds up the one luggage case Sirena brought with her.

"No, it's fine, thank you." He jingles the key that he used for the front door in her hands and takes his leave. As the door closed, she realizes that she is alone in this enormous house. "Maybe I should ask where my ro-" the limo's engines fade into the night. "Hm."

Wandering the first floor she finds the kitchen, although it is empty many dishes, pots and pans lay unattended in the sink. It bothered her. So she washed, dried, and stacked them in a neat pile.

She realizes how dusty the stair rails are. After searching through the kitchen she found a rag and wiped them down.

Climbing up to the second floor she touches the sunflower petals, seeing how fresh and soft they still looked, and skipped through long corridors. Unintentionally, she finds what seems to be Ivan's room. The fireplace is unlit, and the room is shrouded in black, only emitted by the light coming from the open door. The balcony doors are shut and covered by an insulated drapes, concealing not only the cold, but light. Sirena searches for the light switch and stares at the empty room. The bed sheets are crumpled and wrinkled, but his bed still maintained it's beauty. The pattern, the white curtains that hung up on it's rooftop. If this were the master bedroom, she opens another door and finds the master bathroom. The color of the walls reminded her of coffee as the large bath tub, sinks and toilet stuck out due to their shiny white exterior. Outside she hears a car pull up, has an hour passed already?

Quickly, she shuts the lights off, and the bathroom door and dashes downstairs to where her luggage sat alone on the first floor. Casually and excitedly, she sits on the first step waiting for the door to open. Impatiently, she trots to the entrance when she hears his chauffeur and him exchange words and the sound of keys prying the stubborn lock.

The door creaks open, revealing her prince in a thick coat and a long scarf, holding two paper bags in one arm and a suitcase in the other hand. He has a look of surprise as she immediately grabs his suitcase and the bags, place it on the ground, and leaps onto him. She clung her arms around his neck, tiptoeing, and he wraps his arms around her waist. She peeks over his shoulder seeing the chauffeur trying his best to hide a goofy smile. Ivan walks inside, still having Sirena hanging, and the door closes.

"Welcome home, lyubov moya," she feels him tense at the word. On the drive over, she has been practicing with the chauffeur on how to say certain words in Russian. He lets her down, but cups her face and pulls her in for a long kiss. Their lips locked naturally, and she greedily deepens the kiss, but he breaks it.

"Dobryy vecher, lapochka," he responds. She cocks her head, "Good evening, sweetie pie."

...

Her sexual frustration grew as she waited him to get out of the shower. She already took hers, and sat on the bed with her towel wrapped around. The water running is all she can hear along with the crackling of the fireplace. "That's it." She throws the towel down, and then places it back on when the cold air nipped her skin. She shamefully digs through her luggage to find the lingerie she bought specifically for this day. Her eyes gleam mischievously as she struggles to put it on.

Ivan comes out with a sigh as he wipes his hair with one towel and another draped around his waist. "Sirena?" he sees a lump under his bed. "What are you doing?" he sits at the corner.

"Uh! Uhm! N-Nothing! Nothing much! Just that it's really cold! Yeah!" underneath she regretted placing such an outfit on her. She couldn't believe herself, wimping out, feeling like a pervert. Why has he not made any sort of move on her? Is it only her that wants such things in a relationship? Does he have someone- No. She tears at the thought, but squeaks when her cover is removed.

What a sight it was for him. Sirena does her best to conceal herself, but there is no way to hide the transparent burgundy dress with white lace trimmed on the bottom and top of her breasts. A spaghetti strap hangs on her arm and his scarf is draped around her neck. She had white lace underwear on, but curled her legs to hide them. She is more concerned of using her arms to hide her bare breasts. His silence made her tense as her heart felt like exploding. Out of all moments in history, this will probably be one of the bravest things she considered doing.

The bed creaks as Ivan crawls on top of her. Sirena shuts her eyes, feeling his warm breath on her neck and a few drops of water from his hair. She gasps, feeling her hands being pulled away, "N-" she turns her head, seeing her wrists pinned down.

In his perspective, it is a beautiful view. Her face red and bashful, her breasts moving from her shaky breathing, and to have his scarf around her. He knew as soon as he lets go of her arms, she will tuck herself away, so with one hand he holds both of her wrists and with the other, he pulls the scarf over her eyes.

Ivan traces his finger from between her breasts, down her stomach, and over her crotch. She had her legs tightly shut, but that didn't stop him.

She can feel his fingers forcing themselves between her thighs and rubbing against her unplucked flower. She can feel her shame deepen when he says, "You're wet, already?" he slyly slips the underwear off.

"Ny-" a finger prods inside her, and she shook feeling another being inserted. Her back naturally arched and her legs slowly accepted his touch, opening. She bit on the scarf as the pace increased and she can hear sloppy noises made by her fluids, but he stops. A gasp escapes her when she feels her hips lifted and something foreign rubbing against her entrance. She feels the cloth lifted, and her eyes adjust to his bothered face. "Wh-What?"

"Am I allowed..." he kisses her forehead, "I'm scared of breaking you, you're so small. I held myself back, I have to warn you." He gives rough kisses on her neck letting the moans she held back push through her throat, "I'm not going to stop, once I penetrate you." She can feel the intense warmth of his cheek, "Tell me."

Sirena feels the tip pushing inside and squeezes her legs on his waist, and holds his arms. "I want to be broken, by y-" the rod is shoved deep inside. She can feel a stinging sensation and cries out. He presses his chest against hers and advances to her lips. She holds his neck as his hands travel to her hips, and begins moving his. She hasn't even seen his length, but it is buried deep inside of her, and she felt her walls grasping on. It's obvious he can feel it too as his tiny moans made her clamp around his waist tighter. Doing so, enticed Ivan as he sits up straight and adjusts himself. Her short legs are held up by his arms, giving her full view of their connection.

Looking up she can see his built torso, thick arms and sweaty face. He stared down at her as well, breathing hard, trying to slow himself down. As soon as their eyes met, he roughly pushes forward. She no longer had control over the pace, it seemed too fast for her at first as the sounds of skin echoed through the room along with her voice of pleasure. "Moan louder, lapochka," he begs.

"N-No," is all she can mutter out and constrains her voice, but if he continued to whisper sweet nothings in his low husky voice, she might as well lose.

"All right," he flips her, and presses her back down so that it arched and shoves himself inside again. It is definitely a different feeling as it hit her core. His voice purrs, "Oh? Do you like this?"

"Mm," she buries her head in the scarf and balls her hands. He moves slowly, agonizing her to the point where she cusses, "Fuck it," and slams against him.

"Ah!" Sirena felt him shiver. "Neposlushnyy," he chimes, "How naughty of you."

"Hmph," the remark she made switches to moans once more as he dominates her body. Large, strong hands touching her shoulders, caressing her back, her breasts and lastly her buttocks. With her cooperative moving, the pleasure grew in both of them. She knew it is near the end for her, and convulses when he suddenly removes himself and lets out the thick warm fluid drip on her back. Both of them pant heavily, sweating, but she cries silently in her mind how she has to take a bath again.

...

For some reason her legs caved in when she hopped off the bed, so Ivan carried Sirena to the bathtub. Awkwardly, she sits between his legs in the hot water, leaning on his torso unable to believe they have just did the do.

Or that she basically seduced him.

And that she did naughty things.

And.

She bubbles in the water until he smacks a kiss on her head, "I love you."

Sirena turns, facing her lover who held a tender expression. She brushes his hair again, and he shuts his eyes feeling her caress him. She places her hands lovingly on his cheeks and places a gentle kiss on his moist lips, "I love you too."