AN: Just know before you read: after Netherlands gets out of the cell, it's going to be his POV until he gets back in the cell. That's how it's going to be for all the next chapters too. Kudos to my camp friend for giving me the verses.
Chapter 2: No Closer
The next time when the cell door opens, which had to be less than ten minutes later, England stood there. All of us glared at him, hatred clear on our faces.
I believe my hatred is strongest.
"You," he motions to Netherlands. "I hate to take you away from these precious bastards here, but it is time for you to be punished for what you did." He raises an eyebrow at the splint. The sight makes me want to burst out laughing, but I restrain it. The price I would have to pay is not worth it.
"Who did this to him?" His voice rings out, accusatory.
"It was Daniels," a guard says, speaking from behind. He spins to stare at the armored men.
"When we bring this one upstairs, bring Daniels too. No one is allowed to hurt them other than me."
Netherlands breathes in softly. Despite the chains, I reach over to him and grasp his hands. For such a big man, it's a surprise to see fear in his eyes.
"We'll be waiting for you," I say.
He grimaces at me as two guards haul him from the cell. "I hope so," he says. The metal door slams shut, and England stares at us from the small slit in it.
"You are a disgrace," he snarls. "And I will cleanse you from this earth. You have been imprisoned for your crimes against the crown. You will be punished."
"That's what this bullshit is about?" America says, furious. "We insulted your stupid fucking queen and you lock us up and torture us for that?"
The green eyes stare back at him for a second, and then the door slams open again and hits the wall with an earth-quaking bang. England crosses the cell and grabs America by the collar, pulling him to his level. America stares back fearlessly.
"How dare you plague this country with your blasphemy against the crown!" he yells. "Your session was just two days ago, but why don't you join our new recruit, show him how things work around here?"
He then turns and drags America from the room.
"Fool," Germany mutters.
Just before the door closes once again and we are trapped in the darkness, I hear the country whisper: "Pray for me."
"Just as well," Austria says. "England is not likely to be forgiving like last time. America took it a step too far this time, I believe."
"For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is loyal to Him," I mutter. Austria looks at me in surprise.
"He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.
"May God be with you, America."
Netherlands' POV
I march up the stairs, and look over in surprise as America joins me.
"What-" I start.
"Don't talk," he mutters. I become silent, staring at him. "Listen. They're going to hurt you. A lot. If I had to give you any advice, don't tell him anything. It'll hurt a whole lot more if you say nothing than something, but there is no way we can break to this bastard." His eyes are shining now, and he glares at me with determination.
I nod. "What does he do?"
He smiled grimly. "You'll see."
"Stop talking," a guard behind me barks. "You too." He grabs my hair and pulls my hair, forcing my head back. With my head back and my legs chained, it's almost impossible to keep walking, but the guns barrel in my back forces me to. He smiles down at me.
"Hey, Richard," he says to the other guard, who's making America march. "England only talked about hurting them, right?"
"Yep," the other guard says. "What're you thinking?"
"How long until we have to be in the room?"
From the corner of my eye, I can see the guard glance at a nearby clock in the hall we're being dragged down. "Fifteen minutes."
He laughs. "Well, then," he says, turning me to face him. "Let's have a little fun, Blondie."
"Don't touch me," I hiss.
"Too late for that," he says, and forces my mouth to his.
My eyes widen in shock. I struggle, but the cuffs don't do much. On the other side of the hallway, the guard grabs America's hair like my guard did to mine. He holds him, making his head turn my way. America squeezes his eyes shut, and I feel grateful. He could watch if he wanted, but he chooses not to.
The guard suddenly rips his mouth away from mine and shoves me down on my knees, the chains on my ankles rattling. Slipping a hand down to his crotch, he unzips his pants.
"No fucking way," I snarl. He smirks. Across the hall, the other guard barks harshly, "Watch, god damnit, you American bastard." He grabs America's eyelids and pulls, making the country grunt and twist in his captor's arms.
"Suck," my guard commands, and I struggle. It's all in vain, though, as he pushes my mouth down towards his waiting cock. I scream in the back of my throat as my lips close around his head.
He groans and leans his head back, backing up against the wall. Grabbing the back of my head, he shoves me down until I can feel him almost touching my gag reflex. He moves me up and down, and I can't believe the sudden tears that are prickling at the corners of my eyes.
It's not long after this that he comes, flooding my mouth and forcing me to swallow. I have to, or risk choking. He sighs, zipping his pants again. I sit back, staring up at the guard. He chuckles.
"Bring him here," he says, motioning to America. I hear a scuffle, but in the next second America is on his knees beside me. He refuses to look at me.
"Kiss," the guard commands, and my head and America's snap up in shock. "You heard me. Now."
I look at America. This time, he does return my gaze, and there's panic in his eyes. A hand on the back of my head is a familiar sensation, and in the next second my lips are crushed against America's. A small whimper comes from the blond country. I merely let my lips rest on his, not moving. I will not cause any more pain to my fellow prisoner.
"You can taste me on him, cant you?" The guard taunts. "You probably like tasting it, slut. I bet you've sucked off everyone in that cell."
He pulls us apart, and a few tears trickle from America's eyes. "We better get going. C'mon, bastards." He yanks us to our feet and we shuffle off again. I feel violated, repulsed by the foul taste in my mouth. Cum is still splattered on my throat, and grows uncomfortably drier with every second.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. I can find no other words.
If this is only the beginning…I start to feel I'm in a bigger mess than I thought I was.
I hope you prayed for us, Spain…