This chapter was inspired by the song 'Howl' by Florence and the Machine. It was requested by Inked-Pawprints awhile ago (although there have been a lot of requests for songs by this band).
Howl
Prussia stepped forward with his lips pulled back in a frightening smile. His teeth gleamed.
His jeans were torn and his knees were awful and bloodied. His chest was bare and his pale skin seemed to shine with the moonlight. His crimson stare was dark and foreboding in contrast.
Canada took a step backwards.
"What's the matter, little boy? Scared?"
Canada swallowed.
"No…"
"You should be," he hissed, taking another step forward. Canada pressed his back against the tree behind him, clutching at the lichen. He had reached the edge of the forest.
Prussia slammed his hand against the tree and Canada flinched. He leaned in and nuzzled his neck. He kissed behind his ear. He breathed in his scent.
"What are you…?"
Prussia bit his collarbone and Canada bucked against him.
"Run," he whispered, dragging his fingers through his hair.
And so he ran.
Canada pushed him off and darted through the trees. His blonde curls bounced and reflected the stars until he was so far in that he was invisible.
Prussia grinned and counted to ten.
"One, two, three, four…"
He liked Canada, sure, but he was in love with the chase.
"… Five, six, seven…"
Hunting was in his bones. It pumped through his heart and it coloured his soul. His dreams.
It was who he was, inside. He was a hunter at his core.
He was in love with the chase.
"… Eight, nine, ten!"
Prussia tore after him.
The leaves and branches smacked against his face as he danced around the trees. The vines and underbrush caught on his toes and cut the bottom of his feet. Thorns engraved whorls on his palms.
And that was how he wanted it.
He stopped all of a sudden and cocked his head to the side, listening. He felt feral. He felt free. The forest hummed with insects and sighed with relief as he marched past sleeping mammals. The birds chirped, startled, when he clawed at the trees and jostled their nests.
"What's the matter?" He asked again, singing as he strode through the dirt and rocks. He glanced up at the moon and squinted. "Are you afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?"
He heard a quiet gasp to the west and followed the sound, arriving just in time to see Canada disappear behind a boulder. That one errant curl quivered in the wind and marked his position.
His smile widened.
"Good."
Prussia pounced, jumping into view. Canada shrieked and punched him. Hard. He crumpled and massaged his chin with rough fingertips. His jaw clicked with the motion. He licked his lips, tasting blood, and watched Canada run. It tasted delicious.
He laughed and scrambled after him.
Canada dashed through the trees, darting left and right, but Prussia was gaining. Canada kept glancing back.
And Prussia kept gaining.
He lunged and tackled Canada to the dirt, turning him over and straddling his waist. He pinned his wrists above his head.
Canada glowered, defiant and rebellious and beautiful. Prussia kissed him.
He tugged his sweater over his head and tousled his curls. He dragged his fingernails over his skin and delighted in the little murmurs and growls that escaped his swollen lips.
Canada scratched at the hands holding him down, desperate and wild and caught. He hissed and pressed against the other nation, aching for release.
Prussia smirked.
"Well, well, well… What do we have here?" He sucked and nibbled on his collarbone, softer and gentler than before and softer than Canada wanted. He was teasing him... Taunting him. Tempting him. "The Boy Who Cried Wolf, perhaps?"
Canada tossed his head back and snarled.
"Just fuck me already!"
Prussia cackled and rocked forward.
"My pleasure…"
He howled at the moon.
Author's Notes:
Uhm… This ended up being about the thrill of the chase and, well, about being caught. I love this song but it gets stuck in my head. And then I start stalking through the corridors. And then it gets awkward… Really awkward...
Somehow, I imagine Canada is more in control of the situation than he lets on. After all, being caught is half of the fun. For obvious reasons.
All of my love.