PRINCESS

by anivet

England is no longer the man he used to be. He's depressed, hateful, and cold. He begins to distance himself from the entire world, even to the point of hurting others so he himself will be spared of the trauma of love. America has taken up the job of bringing Arthur out of his spiraling depression, but how can he fix the man when he doesn't know how to be the hero he needs?

7. Chapter 6

((WARNING, THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES DETAILED RAPE. DO NOT READ THAT SECTION IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE ABOUT THAT KIND OF THING, THANK YOU!))

CHAPTER 7

The wind tore back and forth, whipping ash and soot into the air violently, clogging up Arthur's lungs. He choked, trying to cough up the black phlegm trapped in his throat, but all he managed to do was emit an awful hacking noise.

His green eyes drifted up from the rubble he was standing on and looked around. His home, his land, it was all gone. All destroyed in the wake of the bombs. And the worst part was that the Nazis weren't even finished yet. He could see more planes ahead in the black sky. How he could make out the shapes in the smoke and clouds he had no idea, but the familiar rumbling of their engines was enough to make his ears bleed.

No more, he pleaded in his mind. No more, please. "I can't take this any longer..." England attempted to climb the crumbled wall of rock and building parts, but that proved nigh on impossible considering that he was barely even able to breathe, let alone climb. Not to mention the rocks would give or slide away, resulting in him slipping and battering his worn body.

He knew the shelter was somewhere, but he couldn't see it; he couldn't see anything, he couldn't hear anything. He was all alone. All alone with nothing but the enemy planes soaring ahead.

Were his people dead? No... no, or else he wouldn't be here; his country would no longer exist. HE would no longer exist.

He moaned to himself in pain before choking some more. He couldn't talk any longer, as his throat burned and it was just a waste of air, no matter how polluted it may be.

Arthur eventually made it to the top of the hill of ruins and stared up at the sky. At the men - the humans - who were slaughtering his people, HIS INNOCENT PEOPLE! He was filled with a sudden rage, one he hadn't felt in such a long time. He didn't even care if he was going to waste air, he did it anyway. He yelled up at the sky:

"I'm not giving in to you! I won't give up! I won't! I WILL LIVE!"

He hacked some more and smiled bitterly at the taste of copper in his mouth as a bomb dropped above him.

APHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPH

"Arthur, Arthur!" Alfred whispered, shaking England's shoulder gently. "Get up, we're here." Arthur couldn't register anything at first but that dazzling smile. Those perfect white teeth and flush, pink lips surrounded by perfect tan skin. He must have been staring because Alfred smiled awkwardly and said, "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Oh god, I hope not," he caught himself whispering to himself.

"What?" Alfred seemed puzzled, and Arthur snapped out of his sleepy daze.

"Nothing, mind your own business."

"But your business IS my business," he whined.

Arthur groaned and climbed out of the musty cab, rolling his eyes and grumbling to himself about how he had no idea how Alfred of all people was in charge of him.

Matthew sent a smile his way, but it didn't have the same warmth as it used to. It felt oddly empty somehow, like a part of him was missing from the flash of teeth. Not that he didn't deserve the untrusting treatment he was getting- he HAD been a bit of an asshole to his boys earlier - but he just wanted the Canadian's REAL smile back. Even if it wasn't pointed toward him.

England glanced around for a second but he didn't know where they were.

"We're at the batting cages," Alfred supplied, excitement laced his voice. "I'm so pumped!" Matthew, who seemed pleased wasn't as... 'pumped' as his brother was, and just nodded and fiddled with the strings on his hoodie.

"I thought we were..."

"What?"

"Going to run with zombies?" It became a question because of how utterly ridiculous it sounded coming out of Arthur's mouth.

"Yeah, well, we WERE, but... well..."

"The zombies didn't show," Matthew sighed, filling in where Alfred trailed off.

"Yeah... they uh... they got sick, I guess," Alfred said frowning. "Actually, a lot of people here have been getting sick. I think it's because a lot of people got caught in the rain the other day. It's probably just a cold."

"Or a real zombie outbreak," Matthew teased. America stiffened, looking a bit panicked and scared.

"Oh, do be quiet," Arthur grumbled, "Bloody hell Alfred, if you begin to believe in such trivial, nonsense, I truly fear for the future of your people."

America rolled his eyes and huffed, clearly still upset about what Matthew had insinuated, but he let it go and a goofy smile replaced the grim one. "I can't wait to show you mah mad skillz, British boi~!" Alfred chirped excitedly before skipping into the building happily.

"Oh, dear lord," Arthur grumped. "Never talk like that again."

"Why you hatin' on mah swag, home skillet?" Alfred asked, before walking oddly, like a white gangster.

"You look ridiculous, walk straight."

"Aw, c'mon, homey, don' be like dat."

"Stop."

"Why you gotta be like dat, huh?"

"I hate you," Arthur growled, "so much."

"Haters gonna hate."

"Alfred, I swear to god, I will kill you!"

Arthur was seething, clearly annoyed by how his precious language was butchered so horribly. He continued to stomp and Alfred fell silent for a second. Two seconds... three-

"YOLO."

"ALFRED!"

Matthew laughed behind them, finding his brother being dragged along by his ear to the cashier to be hilarious. Just like old times. If only it could have stayed that way before. His smile faltered and he look away. If only a lot of things had stayed the way the used to be...

APHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPH

"Swing, batter-batter, swing!" Alfred crowed from the sideline, and a safe distance away from Arthur who was clutching his aluminium bat a little harder than necessary. England clenched his teeth together harshly and glared at the machine that was pelting baseballs out at him.

Shwoop!

"Hhh!" Arthur closed his eyes and swung. He waited for a second before hearing the ball hit the fenced cage that surrounded them.

"Ugghhh," he groaned, feeling more than a little annoyed and gave Alfred a loathsome look when he erupted in laughter once again. "Shut up!" He yelled. "This is ludicrous! I see no point in this trivial game!"

Another ball zoomed past him and Arthur spouted more vile words into the air. "I wasn't even ready!" Alfred nudged Matthew in the ribs and wiggled his eyebrows. Matthew scoffed, smirking at Alfred's imp-like expression.

"What're you planning?"

"Whatever do you mean, Matthew?" Alfred asked innocently, sliding off the mini-bleachers that sat next to the batting cage.

"You're up to something." Matt wasn't fooled, Alfred was planning this move from the beginning - he'd chose each place for a purpose, putting a lot of thought and effort into each activity.

"What? No, I'm just going to help Arty, s'all."

"Oh, you're going to 'help' alright."

Alfred gave a reckless smile and flipped him off, laughing as he sauntered away. Matthew leaned back, watching behind his oval glasses with mild interest. America had snuck up onto the Brit and whispered something into his ear. The Englishman jumped and whacked him across the shoulder.

"What in the world are you doing, git?"

"I'm going to teach you how to do this right."

"Get out of here, I don't need your help." Arthur stubbornly took his batting stance again, glaring ahead and swung. The ball did make contact, but it bounced off the metal and ticked off the blond's head.

"GODDAMMIT!" Arthur howled, dropping the bat and clutching his wounded head. "I QUIT THIS INFERNAL GAME!"

"Wow," Alfred murmured, crossing his arms against his chest with a critical gaze. Arthur spun on him, not even giving the blond a chance before he was screeching curses and insults. Not to mention blame. Oh yeah, there was a lot of that being flung his way too.

"Dude, dude, chill out!" Alfred said, raising his hands up in surrender. "No need to go and blow a gasket, old man, sheesh!"

"OLD MAN-!"

"I said I'd teach you, so let me teach you! Not every one gets to be good at this game without a little help. Besides," he added, "you helped teach me how to play soccer."

"FOOTBALL."

"Yeah, soccer." Arthur clenched his teeth, growing increasingly fed up with all of this. "SO," Alfred continued, louder as to stop an outburst from the smaller nation, "I'm paying you back the favor."

Arthur thought this over for a bit before nodding grudgingly. "Only because you owe me back a favor… not that I need you to do this for me, or anything."

Alfred nodded, smiling at his success. Inside, he was practically singing, this was working! Okay, he told himself. Time to work that American magic.

He stood behind the Brit, and helped shuffle him into place. "You're holding the bat wrong. Spread your hands - there you go. And don't chop at the ball, it's not a sword. Also-"

"Twat, shut up, I'm trying to concentrate. And give me space."

Alfred nodded and stepped back, watching to see how his fellow country would do. The Brit swung, but not fast enough. "Good, good, your swing had good form, but it wasn't fast enough, and you're kind of swinging straight. Curve it a little. Go down like this, then up, so when you hit the ball, it'll really fly."

"How?" Arthur asked, looking confused. He tried to hand the bat over but Alfred pressed himself against the Brit, his stomach flush against the others back. Arthur choked and began to complain.

"It's easier to show, this way." His warm, minty breath passed over Arthur's ear and he shivered. Alfred wrapped his body around the others, moulding them together as if they were one. And when the next ball shot out, he took control.

The satisfying TINK! noise was music to his ears, and it was loud enough that Arthur gasped in shock, not expecting such a gratifying noise to fill the air next to him. Alfred continued this for a few more turns, and Arthur seemed to relax into it, even moving with him instead of against. And once he figured Arthur had a hold on it, he stepped back, watching England hit the balls like a pro.

He smiled widely, proud and glanced back at his brother who stuck a finger down his throat and gagged at the show of emotion. He made a 'jelly bro?' gesture and Matthew laughed, shaking his head and went back to surfing the web for polar bear pictures on his phone.

Eventually their limit ran out, and the machine ran out of balls to throw. Arthur seemed confused for a minute, wondering why no more flew out at him, only for Alfred to place a warm hand on his shoulder. He glanced over to see an even warmer smile and Arthur glanced away, not sure if he was embarrassed, or what.

He had felt so relaxed and focused - more focused than he had been in a long time. He'd lost himself in the swinging and hitting, enjoying the loud noises of bats hitting balls and cheers from other cages. Of Alfred's body pressed against his-

He frowned and stomped away, making Alfred's hand, and smile, falter. The American sighed but practically skipped to the doors. "Now for the picnic!"

APHAPHAPHAPAHAPHAPHAPHAPH

The store was pretty bare as most people avoided this place because it was always being robbed or shot up, and it didn't have much business at all. Alfred was feeling a bit let down; he seemed so close but, as always, Arthur refused to let himself go. He was making progress though. He knew he was.

Why else would Arthur sigh contently in his arms and let himself be controlled for so long? Stare at him so long with disturbed want in his eyes..."He just want's me for my body." He huffed, making Matthew laugh.

"Lol, bro." The two had been conversing about what happened while strolling around the dingy supermarket. The tiles were stained and hideous, the food smelled funny, and the lights flickered. The only reason Alfred had even come here was for Ted. And the cheap prices.

Ted may work as a bar tender, but his family also owned this market. Unfortunately, the gangs around this area also thought they owned the building and would force the man's father to pay for 'protection'.

Said red head was trying his hardest to wipe the register clean. He smiled up at Alfred tiredly, before greeting Matthew. "Hey'ya, Matt, haven't seen you in a while."

The Canadian smiled and nodded shyly. "I've been up in Canada for a while, eh. I finally have the time to spend with my brother, though."

"It's good to have ya back. Alfred here's been complainin' about cha never bein' around. You should just move here, keep 'em outta trouble."

Matthew shook his head, chuckling. "Can't, I got too much back there to be able to leave."

"Well, if ya ever do, the greatest country in the world'll be waitin' for ya."

America smiled broadly, feeling proud - that is until a certain Brit ruined it.

"Rubbish. Every civilized human being on this planet knows that England is the place to be."

"Yeah, I mean, what would we do without bad teeth and tea, right?" Alfred teased. Ted laughed, before coughing into his hand and avoiding Arthur's acid glare.

"I know you," the blond said. "Yeah, you were that tosser at the bar who wouldn't give me my drinks!"

"Ooookkkaaaayyyy, I think we should just get our stuff and go," Alfred cut in, not wanting Arthur to start an argument.

Arthur huffed and tossed the items onto the tattered conveyer belt and glared hatefully.

Ted rung up the items. Beeps filled the awkward silence before the human suddenly announced he'd be right back. Alfred and Matthew glanced over at each other nervously, before both looking to Arthur. The blond seemed to be considering something, as he fiddled with a torn bit of the belt on the counter.

Ted returned, a bounce in his step, and placed three ice-cream treats with their bags.

"I remember Alfred telling me you liked strawberry," he said, as if that meant anything important as he handed him a strawberry shortcake ice-cream pop. Arthur stared at it for a second before hesitantly taking it, giving Ted a strange confused look. A cautious one.

He observed the pink package with a delicious picture of the sweet inside, making his mouth water in the heat of the musty store. Alfred cheered in happiness as he ripped open his chocolate version, greedily slurping up the cold treat. Matthew, thankfully, was more slow in devouring his gift, savouring the flavor of Maple in his mouth.

Ted was leaning back against the register, munching on a Klondike bar, licking his lips in contentment and completely relaxed as he let the cold creep down his throat.

"How much?" Alfred asked, pulling out his wallet, having handed his friend the empty wrapper from his treat.

Ted waved him off, "The ice-cream was on the house. The freezer gave out and I've been giving out these things all day." He smiled at Alfred. "Good thing you called to tell me you were coming - I was able to save your favorites."

America laughed happily before thumping on his friends shoulder in appreciation. The human seemed to be in pain from the American's enthusiasm, but bit back the complaint, continuing to smile at his pal.

Alfred paid the rest of his fine for the food in their bags before giving his friend a hug as they made their way out. Arthur was still staring at his treat. It was beginning to melt in the wrapper, and he ripped it open.

Sweet coldness filled his mouth and he moaned in relief. Alfred looked over to him and cleared his throat before tilting his head towards the cashier who was fiddling with the register.

Alfred and Matthew waited for the slow automatic doors to open and Arthur turned around.

"Thank you." He said loudly, making the Southerner look up to him in surprise. "Kiss ass." The red head just laughed, and Arthur followed his family out with a smile on his face as he continued to enjoy his gift.

APHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPH

They were all alone, just him and that insufferable git. Matthew had been called away for an emergency meeting with his boss. The Canadian had promised that he would be back in a few hours, so until then Alfred had decided it would be a good idea to skinny dip in a hidden body of water, surrounded by trees.

"Are you out of your bloody MIND?!"

"No, just out of my clothes," Alfred cooed, not even trying to keep the smile out of his voice. He ran his fingers through the water around him, waiting for the Brit to join him. "Now get outta yours and get in here."

"Alfred, why would I even want to get into some dirty water in some pond in the woods when I could just relax in the cool, air conditioned museum you promised we'd go to?"

"Because I wouldn't get to see you naked if ya did?"

Arthur scowled and cursed at him, but Alfred just rolled his eyes. "I'm not trying to get into your pants, Arty," Alfred sighed, treading in the water.

"No, you're just trying to get me out of them."

"Hahahaha, okay, okay, I see your point, but c'mon, just let yourself go. I remember when you and me did this kind of stuff all the time. Wild Arty's gotten old, huh?"

"I have not!"

"You're over a thousand years old!" Alfred cried out. "And your personality is showing it."

"Shut up!" Arthur growled, but he was unbuttoning his shirt, none the less. He shed his clothing slowly, unsurely, and silently cursing Alfred for dragging him into this situation.

The American wasn't even hiding the fact that he was staring. In fact, to Arthur he seemed to be staring at him in awe, admiration… love.

Nope! Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Not letting that thought go into his head. He was going into the water to cool off, not because Alfred's eyes were beckoning him with a look that he wished he could see every day for the rest of his life.

He hesitantly dipped his foot into the water and let out a relieved sigh. The water felt cool against his heated flesh. He turned around, before gently letting himself sink into the water. Relief flooded his body and he shivered. Not because of the water, but because he could feel Alfred's eyes eating up his exposed flesh. He lowered deeper and deeper.

He frowned when he felt a strong hand rest on his hip. "Alfred, I thought we were just going to cool down."

"We are." His voice was quiet, soothing.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Trust me?"

"What?"

Alfred pressed against his back and Arthur felt a shiver rip through his body. God, the boy's body was perfect. He was able to stop himself from leaning back - but just barely.

"I asked if you would trust me."

"I..."

"Arthur?" Alfred's voice was soothing, calm, convincing.

Did he trust him? After all he did? After all they've done to each other? After all they've BEEN through with each other?

"I don't know."

"That's okay." Alfred sounded disappointed, hurt. But not surprised.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, because I'll be here even when you don't. Even when you hate me, I'll do everything I can to make sure you're happy."

"I want to trust you," Arthur whispered. "If I could trust anyone, I'd want it to be you."

"That means a lot to me," Alfred choked into his ear. Arms wrapped around the other, before be began to drag the Brit into the deeper water.

"What are we doing?"

"A trust game."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," Alfred smiled. "Now turn around."

Arthur did as he was told and blinked up at the American. His blue eyes twinkled with emotion, and Arthur felt himself being drawn into it. He wrapped his arms around Alfred's shoulders, trying to keep his body from sinking into the deep water. He couldn't swim, and he highly doubted drowning would be a good way to spend their time alone.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Can you close your eyes for me?"

"Why?" he questioned, although he did it anyway.

"I want to try something." He pulled Arthur up and the man instinctively wrapped his legs around the American's waist. "Do you know why we're here?"

"To see me naked?"

"Besides that?"

"To gain trust?"

"Well, yeah, but when was the last time you paid attention to your land?"

Arthur fell silent. He thought back behind his closed eyes, and he found he couldn't come up with an answer. "I haven't."

"I know. I think you should listen."

Arthur went stiff in his hold, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "Trust me." The soft lips against his ear, the cheek brushing his, the words invading his mind… it was all so loud now. He bit his lip.

He took note of other things around them he hadn't registered before. Of the cool water lapping at his waist was one; it gurgled by them happily, making soft bubbling sounds. Of the gentle song of birds floated into his ears. Of the sound of the leaves swaying with the gentle breeze, and a squirrel scurrying in the tree and Alfred breathing. Of his and Alfred's hearts beating. It was exquisite. Beautiful.

"Can you hear it?"

"Yes." He barely was able to utter the words out. They felt trapped, insignificant, hideous against the beauty of the world around them. He trembled, clutching Alfred a little harder, shock flooding his system.

How could he forget what he was? What Alfred was? What they really were? They were land, they were life, they were everything living and breathing on this planet. They weren't technology, or weapons, or things that were made for political dog fights.

"You're doing so good," Alfred cooed, rubbing soothing circles on Arthur's clammy back. "What can you feel?"

"Well, I feel you."

Alfred laughed and Arthur wanted to cry and the perfectness of it. His voice fit in so perfectly with the nature around them, but then again, he was nature. The water was his blood, the wind his breath, the birds his songs, the animals his spirit.

It was all him, and there was never anything better.

He could feel the tears roll down his cheek and his breath hitch horribly. Alfred was there, rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings into his ears.

"Shhh, shhh, you did good. You did so good, Arthur, I'm so proud of you. Oh, god, I've missed you." Arthur's control crumbled and he cried into Alfred's shoulder, gross hiccupping sounds and whines escaped his throat, and American could only try and kiss his cries away. The soft lips brushing the others silky, damp hair.

"It hurts," the dirty blond sobbed out, hating how he had no control, no will power. How he was so broken.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Alfred whispered, whipping the tears away sweetly with his thumbs. "I know."

Arthur wanted to run and hide in shame; shame of himself and how disgusting he was in comparison to the American. But he absolutely and completely surrounded by the man. The water was him, the land around and beneath them, just as firm as the hands on his hips. Every emotion was raw and on the surface and Alfred was there, coaxing them out, protecting them, making them feel safe, yet insignificant.

"I missed you, I missed you so, so much." Arthur could practically see Alfred's eyes closed, filled with his own tears. His face soft, yet in its own kind of pain.

"What the hell?"

Alfred and Arthur jerked, surprised by the sudden voice. They looked over to a disturbed and disgusted, yet amused, Matthew. "I leave you two alone for ONE HOUR!"

APHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPH

"I was kind of hoping this would be like the museum from that one movie," Alfred complained.

"Night at the museum?" Matthew added helpfully.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Shh!" Arthur chided. "Be quiet."

Alfred rolled his eyes. He didn't really want to be inside of the building, but he supposed Arthur deserved to pick something to do after he made him cry in the pond.

After Matthew showed up the two had decided to climb out of the pond, although Alfred only caved when Matthew refused to join in and Arthur ditched him. They then caught a bus to the museum and, well, Arthur was really the only one paying any attention.

They WERE history, so Alfred saw no reason to go and learn about it in some dull exhibits or in the form of some run down artefacts.

Arthur just needed to breathe, to think, to get away from his feelings and come back to the real world. And what better way to revisit reality than to go to a museum? Matthew, on the other hand, didn't mind it so much. But he, like Alfred, had found other ways to entertain himself.

Like fogging up the glass for one.

Alfred breathed heavily on the thick casing and drew a penis next to a Hun who was trapped forever in a pose that was howling out a battle cry. Matthew coughed, trying hard not to laugh immaturely like his brother.

America seemed to 'wrap' his hands around the drawn cock and 'move' it back and forth. Matthew snorted and shielded his eyes. He peeked anyway before closing them tightly as tears filled them.

Everything's more funny when you can't laugh, Matthew concluded. When Alfred's drawing faded away Alfred laughed.

"Well HE didn't last long."

"Pffff."

"Hun-ny, I'm hooome~!"

"Alfred, shhh!" Matthew whispered through giggles.

"Oh! Look! Look, look, look, look, look!" Alfred huffed away again and drew a speech bubble. Matthew squinted to see what his brother was feverishly smudging onto the glass. 'Mulan kicked my ass, it sure is sore!'

Matthew couldn't hold it in anymore he erupted with laughter. Alfred, loving the attention, wiped away the words and began to blow frantically on the glass. This time he drew multiple erections, and even a few cumming.

Arthur stormed over, face red with anger. How dare those boys make such a scene in a place that is made for the respect and protection of history! What in the world was the fuss, anyway?

"ALFRED! MATTHEW! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING - Oh, dear lord."

Arthur stood in shock as he watched Alfred and Matthew defile the defenceless wax dummy trapped in his clear tomb. "Why, I never! Matthew! I'd expect something like this from HIM, but you? Why did you let him drag you down to this, boy?"

Matthew looked lost, not being able to find any words or an excuse, and weakly replied, "He- I-... wanna try?"

"No I don't 'wanna try'!" Arthur raged. "You have desecrated a poor helpless Hun! Good lord, I raised you both with more respect than that!"

"Technically," Alfred chirped. "The Indians and cowboys raised me. You were the cool grandparent who gave me gifts."

Arthur's eye twitched and Alfred felt the sudden need to run. Which he did.

Very quickly.

Matthew stood in the wake of Arthur's anger, trapped like all the other exhibits there. That is until Arthur followed, making sure to chase the American down, yelling loudly while he was at it and making many parents cover their children's ears in horror.

Needless to say, they were thrown out.

Austria and Switzerland stared at the scene from the Egyptian show case, unsure of exactly what was going on and only knowing that they didn't want to be a part of it.

"What a waste of money," Switzerland huffed, shaking his head.

The Austrian nodded, a complex look on his features. He turned back around to stare at the golden jewels locked away safely for everyone to see.

"Well, Arthur does look more lively."

"He's just lucky Lilli wasn't here," Vash growled, his hand instinctivly drifting towards where his gun should be. He had left it at his hotel room, knowing that security wouldn't let him in with it. "If she were to hear his foul mouth-"

"Yes, yes, calm down," Roderich sighed, watching his reflection. He wasn't too keen on playing games, he knew why Vash had asked him here. It's why he always asked him somewhere. He needed to let go of some steam, and who better than with the single person you to detest the most?

It's not that he didn't enjoy looking at the vast collection of art and trinkets, but he really did not like having to waste money like this just so Switzerland could fuck him into the mattress.

Well, he was treating him to dinner at least, so that was something.

"Just think about how much just one of those earrings would cost..."

"Vash, I believe you are the biggest miser I've ever seen."

The blond growled and stormed away, knowing the Austrian would join him when he was finished. Switzerland felt irritated, impatient. He wanted this 'date' to be over with, hell, he didn't even want it to happen at all, but Roderich was a 'classy lady' and needed to be spoilt if anyone was to sleep with him.

"Bah," Vash grumbled. There was nothing truly 'classy' about his... non-friend with benefits? What were they? When they were younger, Vash could have sworn they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. But once that rift appeared, it didn't vanish. In fact, it simply became larger and more devastating. It was surprising they even had the relationship they did now.

The other's soft, pale skin, downy brown hair, exotic violet eyes… it was too much. Even though they couldn't stand each other, that long lasting admiration and lust filled every erotic imagination he could think of.

Having those thin, long legs wrapped around his waist: those pink lips swollen from clashing mouths: his dusty nipples hard and erect from stimulation- oh, he could just go on and on. He took a few shaky breaths, needing to calm down whilst feeling a familiar swell in his pants.

When he realized how odd it was to have an erection while standing in front of a replica of a walrus he blushed and decided to walk away. If only he could fuck the brunette in the bathroom stall or a supply closet - anything! But no, no, he had to be patient and go out to eat. To treat the Austrian until the other gave in and allowed the Swiss to physically abuse him in an actual bed.

Despite being so passive aggressive, so neutral, he was very aggressive in the secrecy of the bedroom. It was a way for him to get rid of his pent up anger, his opinions and independent views on world affairs. To think about his nation and Lilli. That's all that mattered. And the best part was, Roderich allowed him to. Allowed him to dominate and hurt, to curse and bite and choke him. Anything he wanted. Just so long as he was able to drop that facade of being a refined and dignified being.

"I'm ready to leave, it's gotten dark out."

"I spent ten dollars to get in here, I'm going to get my money's worth."

"I highly doubt anything would be worth your precious money," Roderich replied walking away. "Besides, I'm hungry and I'd rather get back to the hotel while I'm still energized."

Vash decided the hotel would have far more interesting sights to see than this gigantic museum anyway. He quickly caught up and they reigned a cab.

APHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPH

Alfred smiled at his brother, feeling as if the day was nothing but a giant success. He seemed to have gained the Brit's trust, they'd had fun and the man even seemed a lot more alive. He had more spunk, more energy, a certain gleam in his eyes.

Matthew was resting his chin in his hand, waiting for his meal to cool down a bit more, and just took to watching Alfred grin at him with a smudge or red and yellow on his face. Arthur was picking and cutting at his food, making sure his was made into tiny, sensible bites.

Arthur gently stabbed at his food, sitting up straight with his elbows off the table, showing perfect eating etiquette. The blond looked over the Canadian and told him he shouldn't slouch, but he knew it was a lost effort. Neither he nor Alfred ever listened to that sort of advice. Matthew was too laid back and couldn't find a real reason to care, and Alfred was just a slob.

Across the room, Austria looked through the menu slowly, making sure to note all of the prices. If he was going to be ravished, he was at least going to get a good meal before hand, but that didn't mean it had to be the most expensive thing on the plastic covered paper.

Switzerland had chosen the cheapest thing he'd seen - a bowl of tomato soup and grilled cheese. He felt nervous, unsure of what his... partner would choose.

"I was thinking lobster-"

"Don't you dare."

"I was joking," Austria sighed, "besides lacking compassion for anything other than money, you also seemed to be missing a sense of humor."

"I am not," Vash huffed, tapping his fingers angrily on the table. "I just don't see the point of you teasing me." The unspoken words hung in the air, 'You know I'll just hurt you for it later.'

"Alfred, stop speaking with your mouth full, it's disgusting!"

The American closed his mouth, only because a certain Russian was making his way over to the table. "Hello," the giant greeted. "Matvy, Arthur... Alfred." The purple eyes flickered down to the American and stayed a little longer than they should have.

"Ivan," America nodded, voice strained.

An uncomfortable silence filled the table and Ivan just smiled through it all. "May... I join you?"

"Uhhh...yeah, sure." Matthew said, after looking at his brother's face. He was was one of the three that knew Russia and America's relationship, other than Francis and Ludwig. Arthur had been kept in the dark, seeing how he would probably throw a fit if he knew his precious America had been fornicating with the Russian at any given chance just because he could.

The relationship had been more complicated than that. Ivan had adored the blond and given him all the attention and things he could want, but Alfred wasn't happy. He cared for the Russian, yes, but it couldn't be more than that. He'd tried, but he was incapable of it. He really tried, but he could tell the Russian was hurting, was dying a bit inside because of him. Alfred brought life and warmth into his life just to snuff it back out and leave his hope withering away like a flower in the cold.

America had broken it off, not being able to handle what he had done to the sweet, if not somewhat twisted, man.

Ever since then they'd had sex whenever they felt the need, but Alfred would leave the next morning, regretting it… but never stopping it. And despite all of Ivan's attempts, all of his affections and desires, Alfred wasn't coming back. He had finally got the nation he'd been wanting, only to lose him to a depressive, suicidal Englishman.

Maybe it was just Alfred's need to play hero? That complex, something he couldn't help? Maybe when Arthur was 'fixed', Alfred would come back?

No. He wouldn't. And damn, if it didn't make Ivan mad.

"Whose that sitting there?" Vash questioned, looking pointedly at the blond family across the restaurant.

"Hm? That's Ivan."

"No, the other one?"

"What other one?"

"The blond."

Austria sighed. "They're ALL blond."

"Well excuse me," Switzerland spat out venomously. "I mean the one sitting across from America."

"Oh. I...I have no idea..." Roderich blinked, unsure of who that mysterious person was. He'd seen him before, he was sure, but he would always seem to... fade away somehow. Was he a country? He had to be, and he looked very much like America. Stunningly so, as if the were identical.

Although his hair was a bit longer and his eyes a beautiful shade of violet. He also had rounded glasses, where as Alfred had square. Austria set down his napkin and studied the stranger some more, his eyes peering behind his spectacles.

The doppelganger had a similar body type. Tall, with some muscle but not quite as large as the American. His skin was paler as well. Alfred looked more rough and warm, while the other sweet and soft.

He was attractive, no doubt, but he seemed a bit shy, even now, he was seamlessly melting into the background.

"Are you going to stare all night?" Switzerland grumbled.

"Feeling insecure, Vash?" Austria's eyes drifted to him, but his head was still turned toward the small family. He wore an unimpressed and disinterested expression, and it made Switzerland gnash his teeth.

"Of course not, you idiot."

"Then there is no reason for you to worry. Eat your soup." He turned his attention back, not caring if his body would pay the price for his rude behaviour later anyway. He wanted it, yes, but the blond could just as easily make the pleasure a punishment.

He could tell there was some relation between the two, and even Arthur seemed to hold some influence in his appearance. He could definitely find a bit of France in the boy - the long, soft, flowing hair was one and the sweet smile was another. He also had his brow. Alfred was much the same, but he had his 'father's' messy hair, and a mischievous smirk.

How he knew France was involved was because of the sudden spurt of French leaving the quiet male's mouth, and if he was indeed related to the two next to him, France would, of course, be involved somehow.

He grew bored of watching the boy, deciding instead to pay attention to his meal and, to a lesser extent, his date. Who was childishly pouting, stabbing at his melted cheese sandwich with a fork.

He jerked noticeably when a foot slid up the inside of his thigh. Unsure green eyes flickered to Roderich's. The brunette wasn't looking however. Instead, his were closed as he cut his meal, acting as dignified as ever. Like he wasn't feeling up the Swiss under the safety of the table.

Vash felt the blood fill his face and pants and he glared hatefully. Did the Austrian seriously think this was funny? "You're not eating fast enough," the European grumbled.

"I am merely trying to savor this meal."

"Well, savor it faster."

"So impatient. You're paying for us to enjoy our dinner, so I'm going to make sure we take the time necessary to do so."

Vash gritted his teeth as he dunk his grilled cheese into his cooling tomato soup. His hands trembled and he had to bite his lip to hold in his needy gasp. Somewhere along the line, Austria had slipped off his shoe and his toes had started to knead at the hardening flesh.

"G-gah. What the hell?" He whispered hoarsely, sweat started to secrete from his pores. Austria gazed at his ex-friend's strained face, arching a brow.

"Are you okay?"

"Nnh, stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You could at least ACT like you're doing something. You're just making me look re-ridiculous!"

His sudden rise of voice caused many people in the vicinity to look at him, the room going quiet for a moment. Vash sunk into his seat, feeling humiliated, and stabbed viciously into his crisped bread.

"I wonder what that was all about," Alfred mused, staring at the two Europeans glaring at each other.

"Who cares?" Arthur flicked a hand, dismissing the interruption. "Ivan, get to the point."

The Russian waved a hand over for the waitress. "May I have a chair and some water, please?"

The woman seemed unsure for a moment before smiling and nodding, rushing over to get him what he wanted.

Once he had his seat and drink he thanked the human kindly and she smiled, hesitantly stumbling away. When Ivan faced the group again, his smile was gone, and a serious expression covered his features.

"I'm here on business," he told them, hands resting on his forearms as he leaned forward. "America," he whispered, eyes burrowing into the beautiful blue orbs that used to light his world. "Germany, you, and I must strengthen our political relations."

The table remained silent.

Matthew and Arthur stared at the American who was locked in an unreadable gaze with Russia. Alfred didn't look happy, but he also didn't look angry about it either. Just... acceptant of his fate.

Inside, Arthur was panicking. Alfred couldn't say yes, he couldn't! Not now! Not when he felt himself slipping out of his own control. Not when he needed him most.

But he had to, Alfred had no choice. Either sleep with two men, or lose political power.

And Arthur hated him for that.

He wanted Alfred just for himself; he didn't want to share, didn't want to let him go. He didn't want the man to come home and smell of sex and self-hatred.

Alfred nodded, eyes never leaving Ivan's. "When?"

"Tonight."

"What? He doesn't even get a day to prepare?" Matthew objected. Nations were usually given time before hand to mentally prepare and get themselves ready. For Alfred to suddenly be thrust into this was uncalled for, and there was no reason why it couldn't wait until tomorrow.

"I have specific instructions from my boss," Ivan sighed. "Alfred is to leave with me and we're to... meet up with Ludwig in the hotel."

"Why now?" Arthur pressed. "Why so suddenly?"

"I asked my boss the exact same thing," Ivan said, shaking his head, "he told me that Germany wants to strengthen the political relationship between America and I, and he is only going to accept it for tonight."

"Why do I have to sleep with you then?" Alfred's voice cut so suddenly the three had almost missed it. It wasn't meant as a rude question or to sound indignant, but that's the way Russia took it.

"Because," he started, fingers lacing together tightly. "I figured if we both have to sleep with him in one night, it's be best to do it at the same time. That and, well, I figured strengthening our alliance would be a good move as well."

Alfred nodded. That was all he needed to know.

Matthew cut in with, "Ivan, do you know anything about these recent illnesses? Is it the cold? Flu?"

"We don't know quite yet, but it isn't serious." Ivan didn't seem very interested with that question, writing it off as a change of subject.

"We've said that before..." Canada murmured, mostly to himself, and Ivan thought about it.

"Da, but we have better medicine and doctors. Not to mention technology."

"I'm just saying, we shouldn't get cocky. We may have come a long way in medical science, but we don't want another epidemic on our hands. The bird flu? H1N1? Aids? Spanish flu? There are so many," Matthew listed off, looking seriously worried. He may have been joking earlier about zombies, but the threat of a killing disease could not be ignored.

"Think about it," he continued, face stern. "If people start dying now, we don't know what will happen. The world is in a certain order, we can't allow it to be thrown off. If too many people die... we'll get sick, and if we're sick, whose to stop someone from taking the first move?"

"You're talking about a World War three?" Arthur asked, intrigued, but doubtful.

"No, not exactly, but I'm just saying, we should get this figured out as soon as possible."

Ivan shook his head. "I understand where you're coming from, I do, but there are far too many issues in my country for me to just focus on a new strand of the common cold, Matvy."

"Yeah, Matt, not everyone has free health care like you do." Alfred smiled weakly at him, silently agreeing with his brother, but not really in any position to back him up.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Matthew leaned back in his chair and weakly glared at his southern twin.

"Nothing," Alfred resigned, holding his hands up. "I'm just messin' with ya, Matt. Chill, okay?"

Matthew took a few seconds to breathe. He had been so temperamental lately. Ever since his split up with Carlos he felt like snapping at people, which was odd for the passive-aggressive nation. "Sorry."

Alfred leaned across the table and patted him on the shoulder, giving him a sideways grin.

Arthur, relieved for the small chatter, began to chew his food once more. He wanted a distraction, something to take his mind off of the pang of anticipation in his gut. He didn't want Alfred to go, he really didn't. He thought about voicing his opinion, but that would just make him selfish. Denying Alfred the choice of stronger political power just so he wouldn't have to see him leave and knowing what awaited the man?

He groaned inwardly and took a sip of his tea. England pondered for a moment. Why, so randomly, did Germany wish to sleep with the American? Was he in trouble? No… he was the most financially fit in Europe at the moment and in perfect health, so that couldn't be any pressing reason. Unless he wanted more trade, but if he had, he would have addressed it at the meeting instead of keeping it a secret. So that only left one option in Arthur's mind.

Ludwig wanted to sleep with Alfred; as a person, not a nation. It was personal.

Pale hands gripped his cup tightly and Arthur's knuckles turned white. He watched Matthew and Ivan converse about hockey and tease Alfred about how he wasn't fit for the rink. America flicked his head up, nose in the air, and ignored their jokes. Blue eyes met his, and Arthur couldn't breathe.

Alfred's mouth was drawn together and he stared at him with guilt, and sorrow. He didn't want to do this, that much was obvious, but that didn't mean anything to Arthur. If he didn't want to, he shouldn't.

But he had to, and that made Arthur mad.

They could never be together, Arthur concluded. People would just tear them apart. Every nation wanted Alfred. Many didn't like America, but ALFRED was wanted by all. He was strong, handsome, good in bed, sweet, warm, free, full of hope and wonder. He was the light, he was the hero. And Arthur couldn't hold down the bold eagle. He had tried to clip its wings once, to cage it so it could sing a beautiful song for only him to hear. But the bird had flown away, taking his heart with it.

He broke the stare, feeling increasingly agitated. He wanted Alfred to just leave - to get out of his sight - but the man seemed reluctant to go, wanting to stay as long as allowed and even longer, if possible.

Alfred's brows drew together and his lips met in a thin, white line. Arthur was mad. He didn't want that, he didn't want him to be angry because he had to do business with other nations.

America could feel it slipping; the trust, the feelings, everything he was able to coax out and draw from Arthur were slithering and hissing away. He was losing him again, he could feel it. Alfred decided to pick at the table, finger nail digging into the wood as he brooded. He could tell whatever Germany wanted, it was personal. The man was too professional and followed the rules to a T, so if he was suddenly pulled into a sex session without the entire world knowing, it was to be assumed LUDWIG wanted something.

It wasn't fair. Nations were too easily corrupted and controlled. If one wanted to sleep with another, all they had to do was suggest a better business relationship and the other was most often helpless to the offer.

Alfred felt sick. He and Germany had quite a past, not as much as he and Ivan, for sure, but it was complicated none the less. When America was helping the Kraut rebuild his nation, Germany seemed to develop feelings for him and Alfred, wanting to be the hero, had accepted. He was willing to do almost anything to get rid of those feelings he had for Arthur. Well, at first things were great and Alfred thought it was going to work. That he and Germany could do it, that they could make it.

That is until he figured out Germany was seeing Italy behind his back. The German had been so desperate, so dependant on the Italian that he couldn't control himself. He knew Ludwig had genuine feelings for him, he did, but he couldn't take being the B team. The second choice.

He didn't want to be the back-up option. So he had removed himself from the problem.

But unlike Ivan, Ludwig didn't pursue the American afterwards. That is until now, he suspected. Why else would he want to sleep with him? There were dozens of others he could relieve tension with, but why him? And why Russia? Where did he fit into the equation?

It was all too confusing, Alfred held his head in his hand and tried to think. His mind was swimming. What was he going to do? What were THEY going to do to him? His two ex's, sleeping with him at the same time? He felt sick. He didn't want this, he didn't want any of this. All he wanted to do was get Arthur back. After two hundred years, he was so close, so close to his dream, his desire, and now it was being torn away from him by his past.

"Uuuggghhhh!" He growled to himself. He felt angry, frustrated and helpless. Something he didn't enjoy. "Why is this happening?"

Ivan stared at him, feeling an emotion he couldn't quite place. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or upset about the obvious rift in Arthur's and Alfred's relation, and he wasn't sure if he was mad or sad about Alfred being so upset about having to sleep with him. But he did like the power he got from it. America would have to bend over for him tonight; he would be his again, if only for a little while.

He felt a tingling sensation go through him at the thought. He took a silent, shaky breath before clearing his throat. "Amerika, we need to leave now."

Alfred didn't respond, he just continued to cradled his head, trying to block out the world around him that was spinning and churning like his mind and stomach. "Alfred," Russia pressed. "Come." Large, cold fingers curled around tan, warm ones. Ivan almost sighed at the heat.

The American felt trapped, glued to his seat. The frozen digits interlaced with his, and he shivered, a cold feeling raced down his spine. He remembered when those fingers had been a relief. Now they were just a curse.

"Alfred, we can't keep Germany waiting forever, now get up." Ivan's words were soft and gentle, yet stern and serious. America couldn't help the nod of his head and he felt himself being pulled up by the arms. Alfred stood up and for a moment, it seemed as if there was nothing wrong with him, until one noticed the paleness of his face.

Ivan wrapped an arm around the man's waist, feeling very prideful suddenly. He smirked down at the suicidal Brit and had to hold back the mocking laugh building in his throat. Arthur looked absolutely distraught, his face tight and brows furrowing together in a pained expression of betrayal.

He wanted to remind the Englishman just who was more powerful, more suited to tame the wild American in his arms. So he whispered, just loudly enough for England to hear, "Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power." Purple eyes flinted to green and Arthur felt the bile in his throat rise.

Matthew could only stare at the ground. Ivan put up a good point, and Arthur knew it. He was weak, unable to even put a claim on his own life, let alone the life of another. Especially Alfred. Alfred was the most powerful nation in the world. Who was he to want to sleep with him?

He felt that feeling of hopelessness and rejection build once again and he groaned quietly, watching Ivan walk away with his prize in his frigid hold. Arthur clutched the silver polished fork in his hands and debated whether or not to just stab himself with it.

Austria huffed, wiping away the nonexistent food on his face with his cloth napkin and tossed it down onto his plate. His eyes made contact with fiery green and he said, "I'm ready to go, are you?"

Switzerland gave him an unreadable expression. "I've been ready."

APHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPH

Alfred's palms were sweating and he felt as if his loose fitting t-shirt was suffocating him. Ivan slid the card key into the pad and the tiny red light dinged green. A loud click was the only noise that floated in the hall other than America's beating heart.

Russia's throat felt oddly dry and he cleared it as he entered the already lit room. It was filthy, beer bottles and cans tossed haphazardly. An odd, rank smell invaded the air. Alfred's hand flew up to his face and tried to create a wall of flesh to block out the stench. Ivan sighed heavily, loudly, sounding more annoyed than disgusted with the smell. Then again, Ivan was used to the smell of alcohol. Russia began to make his trek to the middle of the room and decided to pick up some of the discarded trash off of the bed and floor, trying to make the bedroom environment somewhat tidy.

Alfred took a timid step inward and decided to crack open a window, walking briskly past Ivan, avoiding any contact with the Russian. The window opened with a satisfying gust of fresh air and Alfred revelled in it. He hung his head out of the opening and took multiple breaths of scent free oxygen.

Ivan watched the American with sparkling interest, ingesting every rise and fall of his chest and how his shirt hung off his back and muscles. The worn jeans were resting comfortably on his tan hips, hidden under the baggy, black material. In the back of his mind, Russia registered that Alfred was wearing one of his old shirts that he had neglected to return. A smile stretched across his face. He wanted to believe that the American wanted something of his to hold onto; that he was still attached to him. He was not willing to even think that the blond had just thrown something on, completely forgetting who that particular piece of clothing originally belonged to.

The rustling of those wheat colored locks made Ivan's hands itch to run his fingers through them. The Russian's breath hitched when Alfred arched, his head falling back and the flash of his throat as he breathed, his blue eyes hidden under those soft lids and long lashes. His glasses were slightly slanted, smudged and dotted with dust particles from riding in the crappy cab.

Ivan wanted nothing more than to walk over to him and wrap his arms around that curved, muscular waist and bite down onto that long, velvet-like throat. To feel Alfred moan and lean back into him, to grind backwards onto him. For America to pant and try to fiddle with his button and zipper, so hot and excited he couldn't even control his body properly. To see him undress and show off his body to the world below. They were up high enough no one would actually see them, but just the thought of having Alfred begging and writhing against him for all to see was intoxicating.

He gulped, brought back to reality when Alfred stepped away from the window and looked around again. The room had a calming cream color to it, with a wooden trim. Generic painting and decorations were tilted and scattered on the walls. There were a few cracks and dents, as if someone had kicked and punched it. He guessed a few beer bottles had been thrown against it as well, as there was the reek and stain of it up and down and on the carpet under it. He could also make out fragment of green glass glinting up at him.

He gave Ivan an unsure look, obviously second guessing his original decision, but he could tell the Russian wouldn't let him back out. Said man made his way to the bathroom and flung the door open. The smell of vomit and faeces attacked his senses and made Alfred's eyes water. "Oh, GOD," he choked, stumbling backwards and making his way towards the window once more.

Ivan walked over to the passed out German who had seemingly became good friends with the toilet lay. His arms were wrapped around the base of the ceramic waste deposit, and he was laying in a puddle of booze and his own stomach acid.

Russia rolled his eyes and kicked the German roughly, making the man cough out in shock and pain. Ludwig curled into himself, groaning miserably. "Get up, Alfred's here." Ludwig's head pounded but that name brought a sudden clarity to his world before he retched, dizzy from the hangover and rude wake up call.

Ivan gripped the man by the back of his shirt before he tossed him carelessly into the shower. He turned the water on to freezing and the shower head erupted quickly to life, spilling frigid water onto the disoriented man. "Shiese!" Germany hissed.

"Clean yourself up, you're disgusting." Ivan glared down at him before stomping out of the room. Now was his chance, he decided. While the drunk tried to pull himself together, he could ravish the American all by himself, and remind him how only he could bring him that intense pleasure.

Alfred was picking up the shards of glass and other broken objects gently, tossing them into the waste basket he had dragged over to where he was sitting. Vomit was splotched on the side, but Alfred decided to ignore that, keeping the collar of his shirt hung on his nose so he could breathe a bit more easily. Ivan smirked and stood tall behind him, watching him like a hungry predator.

Alfred froze for a second, before continuing to do what he was moments before, ignoring the giant behind him. Russia was coyly pulling at his scarf, easing it off and flinging onto a nearby chair. He also decided to take off his shirt, his muscles rippling naturally as he tugged the material off. He was proud of his chiselled chest, his perfect abs, even the white happy trail was perfect on him, and he was more than happy to show it.

He knelt down, and let his hands run over the smaller chest below him, feeling it spasm underneath his fingertips. He rubbed his face into the messy hair and breathed in the scent of the other. It was wild, free, untamed, brave, strong. It smelled like America, like his land, and it also smelled like Axe. Ivan couldn't help the guttural growl that rippled out of his throat.

Alfred let out a shaky breath, unsure of whether to stand or remain where he was. He felt crowded, small, against the larger man, and it wasn't something he was used to feeling. He was taller than most nations and better built as well. He had grown accustomed to the feeling while he was dating Russia and Germany, although the feeling took some time to grow accustomed to, but he did. Now it was intimidation, not safe, and he wanted to just force the Russian off. It was uncomfortable feeling like Ivan was superior to him just because his size.

Ivan panted heavily into the American's ear, his hot breath washing over his skin and leaving it damp. An odd, cold after feeling took place like it always did, Russia was made from cold - he was practically the human personification of it. Alfred shivered, he neck tilting back from the sudden spasm. Ivan took that as an invitation and Alfred swallowed his panicked gasp with frozen lips clamped over his heated flesh.

The frozen white teeth nipped and scrapped over his jugular and he felt scared to breath. America's fingers clenched into his jeans as he allowed the sucking and biting continue. He tried to think of other things -of Matthew, of Arthur - until he realized that he shouldn't think of Arthur in this moment, being too emotional about the man while sleeping with another was bad. He instead focused on the sound of the shower running and water rushing down the drain. He could hear the water shift and change as Ludwig moved around in it.

Without warning, a memory of him and the German in the shower popped up and he groaned, frustrated and confused. His body was reacting, but his mind hollered. Ivan made a pleased noise, a deep, hot, "Mmmmmmmm," into his ear, and Alfred shuddered. God, Ivan made the sexiest noises. Grudgingly, he tried to turn around, tired of being pinned near the broken glass and stained carpet and wall.

Ivan backed up and stood in one swift, sudden movement, and pulled the blond up with him. He herded the American back to the bed, eyes half lidded and full of lust. The bathroom door opened and steam wafted through the room. Ludwig walked out, sopping wet and naked, and Alfred had to advert his eyes, not wanting to look at the attractive body.

Russia pulled away and stared, bored, at the German. "Took you long enough." Ludwig didn't pay him any mind, instead, he just studied the other man in the room. His intense blue eyes burned deep into the blond and Alfred fought to keep his gaze. It was all too awkward for him.

Ludwig strode over, confident, slowly; like a vulture, waiting patiently to rip the flesh off of his bones. "L-Ludwig," Alfred greeted, feeling suddenly worried. He tensed, waiting for the man to say something, anything. Questions raced through his mind: why had he been drinking so much, what was wrong with him, was he mad at him, would he try and hurt him, the questions wouldn't stop. They rapid fired at him and he could only stand there like a statue, waiting for anything to happen.

"Get undressed," the gruff voice ordered. Alfred jumped at the sudden noise, only slightly, but he did as he was told. He hated how he had to do as he was told, not usually one to listen to directions or authority. He tried to pull off his shirt but Germany growled and stepped forward and grabbed the material between his large fists and tugged. There was a horrible ripping noise and Alfred cried out with, "Hey, my shirt!" Ivan snarled, angered that Alfred's keepsake of him was destroyed. The cloth fell to the floor, no longer needing to serve its purpose.

Alfred's skin prickled with goosebumps, suddenly nervous and insecure at being eyed by both of the larger men. Ivan continued to glare hatefully at Germany, who suddenly pushed Alfred towards the bed. He let out a surprised yell, barely making it onto the mattress, his hips and legs hanging off the side. His torso and arms hugged the clumped up sheets and blankets. He stared up at the angry German, knowing this night wasn't going to turn out well.

Feeling bold, he asked, "Why am I here?"

Ludwig glared down at him, stepping past the raging Russian, who was doing all he could to keep himself from beating the German with a pipe. The man stepped up to the blond who was now sitting rigidly on the edge of the bed. He grabbed his soft dick gently and barked out, "Suck."

Alfred glared. "Don't tell me what to do." A hand struck out and Alfred was left reeling. "Wha-?"

"I said fucking suck it." The hateful blue eyes pierced into his, and Alfred sucked the blood from his torn cheek and spat it out to the floor. He stood up, showing defiance and bravery as he shoved the German.

"And I said don' fuckin' order me around, asshole!"

Ludwig snarled and Russia placed a crushing hand on the man's shoulder. "This is NOT the way we do things. If Alfred doesn't want to suck you off, he doesn't have to. And you don't need to hit him. If you do that again, I won't be so kind." When he removed his hands, dark blue marks were dug into the pale skin of Germany's shoulder.

Ludwig growled, but seemed to take caution to Ivan's threat. "Italy left me," he said suddenly. Alfred blinked, not knowing what exactly to say.

"So you're just blowing off some steam?"

"It's your fault."

"What?" Alfred looked confused, how was it his fault?

"You killed him," Germany accused, fists clenching and Russia got ready to step in.

"How the hell did I kill him? Italy's still alive, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Because I cheated on him with you."

"Whoah, no!" Alfred yelled. "You cheated on him with me! You were dating me first! When he came crawling back to you, you cheated on ME! That's YOUR fault!"

Ludwig clenched his teeth. After Italy left him during WW2, he had been heart broken, distraught. He was as ruined as his cities were. Then Alfred had came along. Alfred who was so bright and full of life, so happy and willing to help others, both those who had tried to kill him and those he loved. He had hope, when he saw the children reaching towards the sky for Alfred to drop them gifts, and he felt like it was a sign… like Alfred could save him. And he did. For thirteen years he was happy, but then Italy came back. It was always Italy, even when he had Alfred, he still dreamed about the girlish man he'd loved since before he could remember.

He had lied, he had cheated, and he was more happy than he could have ever been. He had the Italian, and across the world, he had the American. But Alfred caught on. Some time later, Italy did too, and then he was all alone.

His buildings were fixed, his cities and streets were repaved and new, but he was still broken. His mind shattered and he chased down the Italian; the Italian who had said America killed him.

No, he said Alfred was the last straw, his mind objected.

"Doesn't matter." He ground out, talking to both himself and the American.

"Doesn't matter? Doesn't matter! Dude, I cared about you! I was falling in LOVE with you! How could that NOT MATTER?!"

Germany's mind whipped back and forth, emotions cut and ripped at him. Guilt, love, hurt, anger, hatred, it was all to much.

'You killed him.'

'No, America.'

'You.'

'Him.'

"Just stop!" He screamed, holding his head. Alfred fell silent and Russia stepped forward, half blocking the American's body with his own. Germany waited for the voices to stop, but they didn't. He sighed. "I need a drink."

Ivan backed up a bit as the German stormed past him, towards the mini-fridge. Alfred blushed as the man bent over, still completely and shamelessly naked. The door rattled as he searched feverishly through it to find some - any - kind of alcohol. "I'm out?!" he shouted. "How am I out?!"

"You should look around the room, da?" Ivan piped up. "The evidence is all around us."

Ludwig observed the broken and empty bottles tossed around the small hotel room and felt a tinge of shame. It vanished as quickly as it had come. He needed some way to drown out the voices, and with alcohol, even when the voices didn't fade, they at least agreed. Agreed that it was Alfred's fault.

If only he hadn't made him fall. If only he hadn't helped him. If only he wasn't a hero. If only he never told Italy. If only Alfred had just left him alone. If only Italy would come back. If only America would come back. If only he wasn't so screwed up...

If only.

There were so many of them, he could list them off until the end of eternity.

He slammed the fridge shut with a feral cry. Alfred jumped, on edge and ready to defend himself, Ivan, fearless as ever, stood perfectly still, not faltering in his attempt to protect the man behind him.

He knew America could defend himself, but it was so hard to just stand back and watch the boy get hurt. Because that's what he was. A boy.

Ludwig ran a hand through his wet hair, still dripping from the shower. His body was still damp but it was drying fast for having been drenched only a minute ago. The taunt muscles stretched and relaxed as the European made his way over to the two. He stopped short in front of the Russian and gazed up at him, silent, calculating.

Russia glared down at him, unsure of what the man was up to, making him cautious and alert. A hand suddenly went up to his hair, the wet fingers tangling in the silver strands as Germany captured his cold lips. Russia allowed it, kissing back, as he dug his fingers into the waist of the Westerner harshly.

Ludwig moaned, rutting up against the taller man. If beer wasn't going to quiet the voices, sex would. It had to. Alfred, watching from behind Ivan, was torn between being disturbed and turned on. Because, hey, it was hot, he wasn't going to deny it. On the other hand, his exes' were in a tongue battle and one was practically dry humping the other. It was weird.

He tried to ease away from behind, not wanting to get in the way, but also wanting to see at the same time. Ivan snarled and pulled away, lip bloodied. Ludwig licked his swollen mouth, catching the red droplets that had smeared there. He stared defiantly into Russia's eyes, daring for him to get revenge. The Russian accepted and dove in for the kill, grabbing the blond's head back by his hair and began to rip at his throat and shoulders. Ludwig let out pained, angry gasps, but reached up, tugging the cold one closer and raked his blunt nails down his back, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Alfred was entranced. It had to be one of the most arousing sights he had ever seen. Nothing compared to this sight. Except for maybe Arthur, but two hot men at once? Alfred wasn't so sure anymore. He shook his head, ashamed. What was wrong with him? He wasn't some kind of pervert! Sadly, the erection in his pants said otherwise.

The two tumbled onto the bed with Germany clawing at Russia's belt, trying to undo the clasp as fast as he could. He was having a problem with it, and tried to just tug it off instead. Russia had other idea's. "Alfred," he called out. "Will you undo my belt?"

Alfred gulped, and nodded jerkily. He walked on shaky legs to the bed and climbed on. Russia was straddling Germany, who was still pulling at the leather strap, and turned his hips slightly to give Alfred more room to work with. The movement brushed the German's cock and he gasped harshly for air.

America swiftly, but gently, worked with the belt, pulling the leather out of the metal, causing tiny 'tinks' to dance around the room. Once undone, Alfred made an attempt to back away, but was pulled into a heated kiss. He moaned, hands slowly going up the toned abs and chest until he met the soft, soft hair that was as white as the snow that covered his land.

Ivan continued to rut against the man beneath him, rubbing his clothed groin against his exposed one. Germany's hands were back to trying to undo the man's pants, eager to get this started. Alfred pulled back for air, and stepped away, needing space. He already felt his strength leaving him, like it did with every nation when they had any sex that involved business.

Their super human strength went to their people, to the deal, making it more powerful and easier to work together. Alfred, being the strongest, always felt the drain to be stupefying. To have the power to rip a plane wing off with one hand and then suddenly he needed help to even move heavy furniture. He hated the feeling more than anything. It left him with a sense of dread and helplessness.

Russia and Ludwig had a better hold on it; neither were as strong as him, but both had far more strength than any normal human. They had also been alive longer and had far more experience. Not to mention, as humans, they were bigger, had more muscles, so naturally, they were stronger than him anyway.

Ivan gave him a sideways glance. "Are you okay?"

Alfred nodded his head, his body shaking, "Yeah, yeah, I'm-I'm fine, just feel a little sick." He panted, "Just give me a second." America thought back to why this hadn't happened earlier that week when he had slept with Arthur. The lack of drainage had escaped his notice during the passion and anguish.

Even though they had said it, that sexcapade of theirs hadn't been for their nations; it had been for them. Because Alfred needed to know if he could save Arthur. And Arthur... god only knows why he went through with it.

He felt oddly stupid, that he didn't care as much as he should have that neither of them went through with their deal. But what was he going to do? Go to Arthur and demand it? No. He took a little bit of pride in knowing that he was fulfilling this one at least. So his boss wouldn't be too mad. Hopefully.

Russia was bending over, kissing the German's chest as he ran his thumb pads over his nipples. Ludwig groaned, panting slightly at the touches. His eyes drifted from watching the silver head of hair dance on his chest and searched for Alfred.

Once again, the boy had wandered near the window and looked down at the people below. At his people. 'I'm doing this for you,' he thought out to them. 'The least you could do is be grateful.'

"Alfred," Ludwig called out. "You need to get undressed."

The American nodded, forcing himself to look away from the freedom that was outside, not there in that tiny room. He had no freedom here.

He sighed quietly, and unbuttoned his pants, happy that Germany didn't try to rip these off him as well. He pushed them down and realized he'd forgotten to take off his shoes. He used the toe of his foot to push one off, doing the same to the other and stepped out of the pile on the floor. He remained in his boxers, not wanting to stand there completely naked. He pulled off his socks and kissed his dog tags before tossing them onto the floor as well.

Somewhere during the time he'd been staring out the window, Ivan had finished getting undressed and was sitting, face to face with the German. Both had a hand on the other's cock, stroking and pulling. Alfred felt the heat of his blood rushing further downhill and he tried in vain to make himself look else where.

Neither seemed like they were going to give in to the other, so he supposed it made sense that they would do a simple hand job. He knew, however, he was going to the one who had to bend over. As much as he liked to top, in both relationships he had mostly been a bottom. Sure, they'd swapped it up every now and again, but the two larger nations both had issues with handing over the control of their bodies.

Alfred didn't when it wasn't business. He had his strength, his will, and he trusted whoever he was sleeping with enough. But now, he wasn't so sure. He was anxious, and he could feel a small bit of anxiety bubbling up. He pushed it down however, and tried to just lose himself in the moment.

Russia wasn't as vocal as the German, who was cursing in his natural language quietly, and seemed very indifferent to the outcome of his time with the blond in his hand. Alfred decided it would be best to put something on, like music, to cover up the noise, feeling slightly ashamed and embarrassed at the thought of other people hearing. The two on the bed didn't seem to care that the television was playing some weird music channel, both too absorbed in just, and getting the deed done.

Eventually they did, Germany sounding as intense as always and Russia giving that guttural growl that Alfred loved so much. It was strange seeing Ludwig sleep with another, especially because he was so sweet, so loving when he slept with Alfred. To see him be as demanding and serious in bed as he was at meeting was jarring. Ivan, on the other hand, didn't surprise him. Like Ludwig, he had put the American's pleasure first, being everything in bed he needed. But before the feelings of devotion arrived, during business trips much like this one, he had done the exact same to him.

The two nations on the bed laid back, not side by side, just, fell back wherever. Ludwig was propped against the headboard and Ivan was taking up the whole bed, his large body just relaxing and half hanging off the mattress.

Alfred was sitting in the chair by the window, refusing to look at the men, feeling exhausted. How he wasn going to sleep with both of them with his energy gone, he had no idea. He groaned inwardly when he was called over by Ludwig, and Russia made his way over to the chair Alfred had been sitting in, taking his place. Unlike the American, though, he was watching, and Alfred was worried that he wouldn't be any good at pleasing Ludwig or looking good while doing it. Would he just embarrass himself? The pressure was immense and he felt sick all over again.

He lay back against the pillows that had been propped up for him. Ludwig leaned forward, kissing his forehead, then his cheeks and nose, just like he used to. A warm, tingling feeling erupted at that, and he sighed happily. He'd missed the loving touches. Ludwig captured his lips in sweet, chaste kisses that made the butterflies dance in Alfred's belly.

Across the room Ivan was gripping the hand rests of the chair hard enough to hear the wood groan. He was growing increasingly jealous and angry. He was seeing a side of Alfred he had thought was only for him being exposed for the Kraut. He wanted nothing more than to just beat the German within an inch within his life, and to kiss the others caring touches away.

Alfred felt trapped, being pulled back into the German's web. He cared for the German, he did, but it wasn't right. The German wasn't faithful and he wasn't right in the mind anymore, but god if his touches didn't drag him back to some of the happiest years of his life. Thirteen of them.

He felt disgusting on top of it, having Ivan watch. As if he were cheating himself. It wasn't fair, but the caring caresses and whispered German words of love in his ear were intoxicating. Alfred moaned, his head falling back as he allowed his throat to be ravished slowly, thoroughly and teasingly, just like he liked it. And Ludwig knew it.

Ivan knew it too. He grit his teeth as those lips kissed over the marks he had made, covering them up with new ones.

Ludwig felt alive again. He had the American, right there, right in his hold. He could just take him back right? He'd thought about it before, but back then he was sure he would have the Italian. Now, the Italian was gone, the American was all he had. He stilled cared about him, surely.

He caught the other's mouth in a needy embrace, and Alfred opened up without needing to be asked. Instinctively. Just like he used to. Ludwig dragged his hands down the other tan, perfect front until he reached the boxers. He traced the outline of Alfred's cock slowly, lightly, and relished in the moan that escaped the swollen lips around his. He could feel the body shudder under his and it felt right, having him pressed up against the other like that. Perfection.

He palmed the erection, being gentle the way Alfred liked it, remembering that Alfred wasn't into pain like he was. They had tried once, but it had freaked Alfred out so much that the boy couldn't even finish. He'd refused to hurt Ludwig physically, even when he had convinced the American to whip him. The lashes didn't even sting.

The blond was just too kind, too caring, and Ludwig adored that about the younger male. He always put everybody else's well being before his own.

Alfred arched, breaking the kiss. His throat, red and splotched from hickey's and bites, flashed into his vision and the German smirked back at the seething Russian. Ludwig wasn't a fool; he knew Russia and his dear Alfred had a thing going on between them, or at least they had in the past.

He was determined, however, to paint over that part in Alfred's life. He would make another decade of happiness with the male, he was sure of it. He had to. Or else he would lose it. If Alfred denied him again, he would have to take him by force. He couldn't let anyone else have his light. And if he couldn't have it, he would snuff it out so that the entire world was in darkness.

Alfred cried out, lost in precious memories of love making and kept promises. A life that he had left behind. He felt his control slipping, and it terrified him. "I'm here," Ludwig whispered, just loud enough for Alfred to make out. "I'm here, and I won't ever leave you again."

"Nnh!" Alfred groaned, his hands clutching onto the other's bare back. Words, that's all they are, Alfred reminded himself. Don't be fooled. Don't fall for it. Oh, god, I missed this.

His mind was swimming. Arthur, he called out for him in his mind. I'm in love with him, I can't just... but he doesn't care about me.

Ludwig does.

No!

"L-Ludwig," Alfred gasped, rutting up and panting with tears of frustration. He never cried without cause. Except when he watched Disney movies, but that was different. He felt as if his mind was being torn apart; Arthur and Ludwig were clashing in his thoughts. He loved Arthur, he always had, but he knew he couldn't keep chasing a shadow. And Ludwig, he was so right, yet so wrong, and he wanted the happiness, the love back. He was the only one who had ever brought him so close to forgetting his feelings for the Brit.

"Please." Ivan frowned at those words, feeling lower than dirt. It was obvious. Ludwig had managed to do something the Russian had not. He had made the American fall for him. But he ruined it. Alfred couldn't possibly go back to him, he couldn't. Not when he had Russia, who had never hurt him, who never would.

Ludwig smiled at the desperate cry. "Anything for you, liebe."

Alfred bit his lip, oh god, stop. His mind was desperately trying to think past the pleasure and memories. This was about business, not about love, or whatever the hell was happening here.

Germany gently tugged at the hem of the boxers, and Alfred lifted his hips to make it easier. Once he had pulled them off his eyes began their worship of the body. His. Alfred was his, even if he didn't know it yet. Germany wouldn't - couldn't let him go. It would be impossible.

The strict nation pulled out a bottle of lubricant from the half opened drawer next to the bed, having planned ahead despite being drunk out of his mind. He flicked the cap and poured the liquid onto his hand. He clicked it shut and tossed it toward the Russian without looking, mocking him.

He rubbed the slick lube between his fingers thoroughly, making sure he had enough before he started. Thick fingers gently probed the puckered entrance. Alfred's eyes were clenched as tightly as his ass, and Ludwig had to rub his thigh to make him relax. Once he did, he pushed in a single finger, almost choking on his tongue at the suffocating hotness of the blond. He pulled out slowly before sliding back in. Once it could move with no resistance, he curled it, trying to stretch the blond as well as he could.

Ludwig could remember the first time they had slept together. He didn't prepare him well enough for his size and the blond was in pain for the most part. After that, they had always taken more care with the preparations.

After he had finished with the third finger, he used his wet hand to slick his dick, making sure to get every inch of it. Alfred's eyes were open now, looking scared and unsure. Ludwig smiled at him and leaned forward, the tip poking at the loose hole and his lips lightly brushing Alfred's. Then, he pushed in.

Alfred almost screamed, or he may have, he didn't know. All he could feel was the burn of being penetrated by something so big. It wasn't the size that really hurt, but the memories that followed. His body was trembling uncontrollably, and Germany's hands ran up and down him, soothing the discomfort.

Germany felt the spasms around his cock lessen and the clenching heat give way somewhat, and he took that as an okay from the blond who was sweating and panting on the bed beneath him. He pulled out, only to sheathe himself all the way back in. Alfred's body rocked gently with each thrust, giving out a huffed gasp each time their hips met.

Ivan was holding his head in his hands, refusing to look at the two love making on the bed in front of him. His eyes only focused on the half empty bottle of lube. The bed creaked and Alfred moaned, sounding pleased. It was too much. Ivan tried to cover his ears and shut his eyes, but the noises wouldn't stop. He could FEEL the bed hitting the wall.

Alfred was in physical bliss. Mentally, he was lost. Germany seemed to remember everything about his body; where his prostate was, how he liked it brushed, his favorite speed, how he liked his cock rubbed, all of it. He was an open book for the German and he wasn't surprised at the moans and needy gasps that fell from his lips.

"Come back to me," Germany whispered. "I can't stand it anymore, I need you."

The words sounded so sincere, so true, that Alfred believed them wholeheartedly. But could he go back? Could he run to the German and leave Arthur all alone and deserted? Well, Arthur probably wouldn't care, but he was the hero.

Heroes deserve to be happy too, his heart throbbed.

"I-I don't-I can't. Think!" Alfred cried out. "I can't thiNK-OH, GAWD!" If Ludwig could do any better than perfection, Alfred swore he was going to drool.

"You don't need to," Ludwig began to pump out of time with his thrusts and Alfred mewled, losing the ability to even talk. "Just feel, okay?"

"Nnhhaahh!" No, he tried to say but it was lost in the pleasure. He couldn't act with his heart anymore, Arthur taught him that. If you did you missed important details, you overlooked things. You get hurt… used.

He had to think, but the German was doing everything he could to prevent him from doing so. "But- Arthur-"

"Forget him, he doesn't love you." Ludwig snarled harshly. "Does he know how to make you lose yourself like I do? Can he make you happy like I did? Like I CAN?" He emphasized his claim by rolling his hips seductively and rubbing the boys prostate head on. "He hurts you, stop trying." Alfred sobbed. "Just stop."

"But I've been... I've been..."

"It's been over two hundred years, Alfred, he isn't-ah, he isn't changing now."

"I love him," he whispered, heart aching.

"You love me, too. And I actually love you back, unlike him."

"I-caaaann't, fuck!" Alfred thrust up, his body needing more friction. "I can't just leave him. He's- he's getting better."

"He's not, you just want him to be," Ludwig said, head bent down. He was losing his precision. He was so close. "You're so desperate for him to need you, it hurts me to look at you sometimes."

Alfred choked, coughing on his throat that was closing on him. Hot, wet tears rolled down his cheeks and tickled his ears. He was desperate, he wouldn't deny it, but when you wait for as long as he did, you couldn't help but be a bit needy.

Ludwig kissed at his eyes, lips getting wet with his salty tears. His tongue lapped up the water off his mouth and he pulled the boy up until he was sitting in his lap, still planted deep within the American.

Alfred groaned and clutched onto the other, arms snaking around his ribs and digging into his back. He sobbed into the chest he was pressed against. Everything hurt, his hips, his heart, his head, his feelings. He felt completely alone and abandoned. It was too much, everything was crashing onto him at once, and he couldn't stop the gasping hiccups that he let out. He was stronger than this, he shouldn't be crying. Heroes don't cry. But then again, what kind of hero would rather sleep with his brother than to remain in love with a man who didn't give two shits about him?

"Give me time," he sobbed out. "I need time, please."

Ludwig thought about it and nodded. "Ja, of course, anything for you." He could feel the blond's will breaking. He would have him, he could feel it. He just had to play the waiting game.

But if he waited too long... he shook his head to himself. No, Arthur wouldn't take him back. That depressed idiot was so caught up in himself he'd never get out of the trench he dug. He felt sure, certain, of his success.

He continued to push in until Alfred let out a low whine, he was close. So he took his chance, pressing his lips to an ear and whispered, "Ich liebe dich."

Alfred came with a silent, breathy sigh. He was exhausted, and he could feel the hot stickiness cool on his chest. Ludwig lasted for about another minute before he lost it as well. He fell back, with Alfred still seated on him. He twisted so they landed on the pillows. Alfred was laying atop him, shaking violently.

That sex was mind blowing, the best he had in a long time. And he felt like falling asleep and resting like that for the rest of eternity. A cold feeling seeped into his skin and he looked behind him.

Ivan was standing, looking fiercely at him. Ludwig watched him, bored. "Could you give me and Alfred a second alone, comrade?" The German shrugged, and eased the American off of him. He stretched, and stood, wiping the splatters of cum off his stomach off with Ivan's torn shirt. He pulled on his pants, not even bothering to put on any boxers before just walking out, barefoot and no shirt.

Once the heavy door clicked shut, Ivan sat down on the bed.

"Why couldn't you love me like that?"

Alfred suddenly felt guilt pool in his stomach. He had forgotten about Ivan being in the room with them. His face flushed in embarrassment. "I-"

"Why don't you love me?" Ivan sounded like a pouting child and Alfred bit his lip at the tormented face that Ivan wore. "I'd do anything for you! I never hurt you! I never lied to you, cheated, put you down, I did everything a lover should! So why?"

"I just didn't," Alfred murmured quietly. "I cared for you, but it wasn't love. I mean, the only reason I even left you was because I was the bad lover. So don't blame yourself, 'kay?"

"You're going back to HIM!" Ivan yelled, his temper flaring. His arm flew into the direction Ludwig left in.

"I just said I'd think about it."

"Same thing! You'd go back to someone who hurt you, but you leave the guy who treats you right!" Alfred deflated, seeing Ivan's point crystal clear. But he couldn't help who he fell in love with. "What do I need to do? Do I need to treat you wrong, too? Is that what it's gonna take?"

"What, no!" Alfred had a sinking feeling in his gut. He could feel the air around him freeze and he knew Ivan's control on his mind was slipping. He was very much like Jeckyl and Hyde; one person who was happy and shy and kind, than there was the cruel, childish, angry part of him that the other nations only paid any attention two.

"Ivan," Alfred warned. "You need to calm down, alright?"

"NYET!" The Russian roared, slamming his fist onto the bed, mere centimeters away from Alfred's ankle. "Do I need to hurt you?"

"That's the last thing I want!" Alfred shouted. "I want you to be you!"

"You don't love me when I'm me!" Ivan's face was getting red as he tried not to let his eyes well with tears. "I don't want to see you with anyone else, you were mine! Why don't you get that?!"

"I understand that, but-" two large hands snagged Alfred's shoulders and squeezed. "Nh, hu-hurting me isn't gong to make me love you. You can't MAKE people love you!"

"Says who?" Ivan's eyes grew darker and Alfred could swear he seen a snowflake fall between them. "General Winter doesn't think so."

"Oh, shit," Alfred said to himself. He knew he was in deep shit now. He'd heard stories about that Winter guy. Matthew had even told him a few about his encounters with a General who could cause blizzards on anyone who threatened Ivan.

He could practically feel the air freeze around them, he could see his breath condensing between them and frost accumulate on the windows. More flakes fell out of nowhere and Alfred shivered. Ivan, who was just as naked as Alfred seemed completely unaware of the dropping temperature.

"Ivan, please."

Russia ignored his words and rushed in for a bruising kiss. Ivan's teeth clashed with his and it hurt. Alfred yelped in shock as ice cold fingers traced down his front, stopping inches from his vital regions. The Russian suddenly pulled back and looked down. "He's dripping out of you." Ivan's voice was as cold as the wind blowing in the frozen window. Hell, for a moment, Alfred thought his voice WAS the wind.

"Y-yeah, well, we just, uh...you were here." Alfred stuttered out awkwardly.

"Da," Ivan growled. "I was here and you didn't even care."

"I'm sorry."

"You're always sorry."

Alfred nodded.

"'I'm sorry I don't love you', 'I'm sorry I hurt your feelings', 'I'm sorry I don't even have the decency to acknowledge your presence'." Ivan seemed to grow in size, but Alfred knew it was just the aura winding around him. He half expected him to pull out a pipe and Kol at him. Ivan did neither, instead he wiped off Alfred's rear with a rumpled sheet.

"Ivan, I really don't want to do this," Alfred said, feeling afraid. He was here on business, he reminded himself, and he suddenly wished he hadn't been. At least that way he'd have his super strength to defend himself with.

"I don't care." Ivan pushed the nineteen year old down with no problem, keeping his hand flush against the warm chest.

Alfred felt Ivan stealing his warmth from him, leaving him frozen to his bare touch. "You can't do this, Ivan, it'll be rape. You need to stop."

Ivan snarled, his fingers plunging into the sore hole. "Shut up. Unless I hear moans and 'I love you's, don't speak."

Alfred's heart beat pounded in his chest. "Ivan stop!" He felt his insides cringe from the freezing digits that invaded him.

"Nyet." Angered at the wet feeling he met, knowing it was the Germans cum, he pulled his fingers out, and wiped them onto the covers. "You're filthy," he hissed.

"Good!" Alfred shouted, angry. He struggled against the weight on his chest, clawing at the arm that held him there.

Ivan gave a guttural growl in anger and suddenly yanked Alfred's hips up by his thighs. The boy let out a 'whoah' of surprise and Ivan pushed in with one snap of his hips. Alfred did scream this time, the cold, searing pain was unbearable and he convulsed. "Stop! STOP!" He suddenly wished he hadn't turned on the tv, in drowned out the sound of his screams. The icy wind howled through the room, carrying any noise he made away.

Ivan had tears streaming down his face. He had to do this, his twisted mind told him. I have to tear him down and build him back up as my own creation. I can do this.

Alfred sobbed, trying to breath was difficult when the air whipped at and away from him, leaving his face and ears burning. He tried to calm down, but it wasn't possible, he was too scared. It hurt, oh god, did it hurt. It wasn't really the size of Ivan, thanks to Germany stretching him so good with his own member, but it was the cold. Everything was cold. Every single part of Ivan was cold. He felt as if he was being impaled with an icicle.

The Russian leaned forward, crushing the teen with his body, and Alfred thought he was going to die. That Ivan was literally going to fuck him to death. After god only knows how long, he felt it. He felt the giant release inside of him. Alfred stared up at the ceiling watching the snow fall out of nowhere, melting as it dripped onto his hot, wet face.

Ivan pulled out and Alfred noticed that even the trail of semen was like a bridge of liquid snow. The Russian stumbled off the bed, and crashed onto the floor at the end of the mattress. After a minute or two, a silver head popped up. Bits of snow decorated the picture and Alfred would have smiled under any other circumstance; Ivan looked so innocent, so angelic. It wasn't right.

Alfred saw the Russian's horror struck face. He looked scared, guilty, and innocent all at the same time. Ivan suddenly ran to the bathroom and Alfred heard the sound of retching echo in the toilet bowl. He watched as one last snow flake danced above his head before it melted from existence centimeters from his face.

He sighed and stood up, clearly in shock since he couldn't feel any of the pain anymore. Or maybe Ivan's mini blizzard had just froze all of his nerve endings? He pulled on his pants before grabbing his other belongings and gave the room one last look over before he left.

Funny, where did that red stuff come from?

APHAPHAPHAPHAPHAPH

Arthur and Matthew had decided to go back to the hotel room and wait for the American. A little after eight, Alfred stumbled in, looking shaken and disorientated.

"Oh my god, Al, what happened?!" Matthew ran across the room and began to inspect his brother. He looked like he had been through hell and back. He noticed something strange in his hair as well.

Snow?

"Al? Al, can you hear me?"

"...Yeah, yeah bro, I...I can hear ya."

"Who did this to you?" Alfred didn't answer, he just looked away. Matthew clenched his teeth, tears welling in his eyes. He grabbed him by the shoulders with firm hands and shook him gently. "Tell me."

"I... I was with Ludwig and Ivan, but I don't..." he seemed confused, like he was trying to remember something. "I remember I was cleaning and I turned on the TV... there was snow too. Someone was yelling, but I don't know who."

Matthew felt his chest tighten and he pulled Alfred to it, as if having him close would ease the pain. Alfred was repressing the memories, the pain. Canada shushed him and ran his fingers through the others hair. "Shh, shh, don't worry about it, I'm here okay. I'm here."

"Arthur. Where's Arthur?" Alfred asked, voice muffled by the red jacket pressed against his face. The Englishman had been standing halfway across the room, watching with an unreadable expression. Alfred's head popped up over Matthew's shoulder and his face seemed to glow. "Arty! Did you have a good day today, or what?" Alfred stood straight and waltzed over, limping slightly. He had dropped his pile of clothes by the door and now he had his hands shoved into his pockets.

"I hate you." Arthur said quietly, voice tight and angry.

"Wha? Why, what'd I do?"

"You're such a fucking idiot! I can't even stand being in the same room as you! I don't love you and I won't, so stop trying! You're pathetic! This whole day was a waste! I'm catching the first flight to England, tomorrow." It all flew out in a rush that left both Alfred and Matthew frozen. The Brit briskly walked past a shell-shocked American and slammed the door that Alfred had left open when he arrived.

Once he was outside the door he couldn't breathe. The world closed in on him; what was he doing? Go back in there, he screamed at himself. But his feet moved on their own, taking him down the hall and down the flights of stairs and outside the magnificent hotel building. He ran down streets and alley ways and through parks. He even got caught in the sprinklers. He ran and ran until he suddenly stopped and sat down. When his mind registered where he had ran off to, he relaxed.

The familiar buildings and cars made him smile a bit as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tugged the lighter out from the box as well and held it up to the fag in his mouth.

"She's right," he whispered, leaning back against the stone steps. "There are thousands of other way's to kill myself, but I'm okay with that."

((OMIFUCKING GOD IT IS DONE! THIS CHAPTER IS FINALY FUCKING DONE! SO FINISHED WITH THIS CHAPTER, IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY, I'M TELLING YOU GUYS. I'm sorry it took so long, my god, you all waited about three months and it took me about three days to retype the damn thing. I had to get my laptop reset again because it sucked and my draft for this chapter was erased so I had to start over. I'm glad I did, because the chapter is much better now.

Wow, I will always feel embarrassed writing porn I guess, haha. But wow, non-con was something new for me to actually take seriously in my writing. I mean, I've tried it before for other stories, but I never actually wanted to post it, feeling ashamed for writing something like that, but, this'll play an important role in the story, so, yeah. : T

And Everyone give thanks to my amazing beta who had to proof read all of this, poor Sora. I'm sorry, hun. ) : D

Okay, so yeah, any questions, suggestions, ect, go ahead. hope you enjoyed this chapter because I put A LOT of work into it. Until next chapter, bye!))