Warnings: Guy on guy sex, fail!porn, butchered Russian language, butchered English language, thesaurus rape, unbeta'd-ness, and, of course, the story being written over a long period of time, the start of which I only really knew the character's from about 5 minutes of the anime and copious amounts of fanfiction. There are also translations at the bottom and my very talented friend drew a picture for one of these scenes that will be available in a link to DeviantART on my profile.

The war in Germany was over, and so the Allies were celebrating. Everyone was really, but the Allies in particular. And by Allies I do mean the personified versions of the countries America, England, France and Russia. But America, or rather Alfred, wasn't having much fun; even with the liquor running freely and loose and grateful women hanging around he didn't feel exactly right. He decided to excuse himself from the festivities and turn in for the night. This, however, didn't escape the attention of a certain country…

It was very late but America could still hear the party going full swing from his private room even after he'd been gone for quite some time. Then he heard a knock on the door and put down the book he was reading to answer it. He was thinking it was probably England coming to ask him where he'd gone off to and why but to his surprise it was actually Russia. America quirked an eyebrow, unpleasantly surprised to see the communist nation.

"America!" He greeted warmly, that creepy and ever present smile on his face. "I noticed you were not enjoying our victory celebration, so I decided to bring some of it to you." And then he held up a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses.

America didn't trust him for a second.

"What's your angle?"

"Ah, straight to the point I see?" Russia asked, smirking, and stepped past the smaller nation into the room. "But no angle, it was just getting boring out there and I decided to see if you would offer any better entertainment." He then put the bottle and glasses on the table America had been reading at, sitting down in one of the two chairs.

"I didn't say you could stay." America said coldly, but he still sat down in the chair opposite of him. He folded his arms and continued "And I don't plan on being entertaining; I was in the middle of a book I'd rather like to finish if you don't mind."

"I see," Russia said, leaning back in the chair as he picked the book up. "Of Mice and Men? I have never heard of it."

"Of course you wouldn't have," America sighed. "It was written by an American about America after you sealed your country off from outside ideas."

Russia shrugged, still examining the book until he decided it wasn't worth his time. "Probably just some Capitalist propaganda I would imagine…"

"Well excuse me for being a country where you can start with nothing and build up to something great!" America growled, his voice rising dangerously high.

"Yes, at the expense of the workers, the laborers, the proletarians!" Russia's smile was gone and his face was a mask of anger, rage, but he realized what he was doing and stopped, suddenly becoming deathly calm. "Look at us, arguing when we should be drinking, celebrating." He unscrewed the vodka bottle and poured it in the two shot glasses and said "Here, drink." And pushed one of the glasses over to America.

"It's probably poisoned." America said stubbornly, but his voice held no anger and the unfriendliness of before was slowly declining.

"Here, watch me drink mine." Russia laughed and then swung his head back as he gulped down the clear alcohol, sighing in contentment as he put the glass down. "See? Not poisoned."

America frowned, not trusting the country entirely. But against his better judgment he decided to drink it. He regretted it immediately. The liquid burned all the way down his throat, tasting bitter and strong, very, very strong. His face scrunched up, eyes watering and he had to cough a few times so he wouldn't choke. He heard Russia laugh and say something in Russian, probably an insult.

"Так мило ..." The country muttered to himself and poured two more shots.

"Ug, no more." America said, rubbing his throat. "What was that stuff anyway? Drain cleaner?"

"Close, it is very cheap vodka but it is also strong, so I like it." Russia smirked devilishly. "You will get used to it." And pushed the newly filled glass over to America.

"If this stuff doesn't sear off my stomach lining first…" He muttered to himself. "I don't know why I'm even doing this…" he admitted with a sigh and quickly chugged the vodka as fast as he could but still ended up choking as his throat burned fiercely.

They continued like this for a while and Russia finally said what had been happening in the party after America had left; England was passed out drunk and France was dancing on a table with two women; which was not as entertaining as you would think because France was just so sloppily drunk that it was just sad.

America was then officially drunk and laughing his ass off as he and Russia swapped stories about their various hijinks from youth and some more recent ones… America thought it was his imagination or an accident when he felt Russia's leg touching his, and he didn't realize the older country moving closer either, and in his drunken state he thought that all the touching, the leaning on, the back slaps, the man hugs, were all fine. A slight warning bell ringed in his head when Russia kissed him on the forehead after a somewhat endearing recalling of America's latest tale, but he chalked it up to Europeans always kissing each other on the cheeks and such things.

Now Russia had his hand on America's shoulder permanently as they talked, mostly gibberish because America was too drunk to make sense and Russia just wanted to humor him. Some warning bells really went off in America's head as Russia leaned in really close and whispered into his ear:

"I am getting bored and I just happen to know something really fun we can do…" His voice was low and silky, his words smooth and calm but with underlying tones of passion, fiery hot and fierce.

"W-what?" America asked confusedly, not quite understanding what Russia was getting at and too drunk to really speak correctly.

"You know what I mean…" The larger country whispered into his ear before he planted a kiss on it, which was already blushing a fervent red; possibly from the alcohol or Russia's suggestion…

America panicked then, pushing away from Russia but the larger nation held fast. He then proceeded to grab America's chin, not roughly, and forced him to face him. America looked confused and frightened, but the emotions displayed on his face were somewhat softened through the haze of alcohol.

"I am not going to hurt you, дорогой," He whispered, looking into those trembling blue eyes. "Я не думаю, что я могу ..." He then pressed a gentle kiss onto America's lips.

But it wasn't enough to stop America from freaking out. He roughly pushed Russia back, and tried to get up himself but stumbled over his chair and fell on his ass.

Russia sighed; apparently America wasn't going to let this happen easily. He approached the panicked nation who tried to crawl away but Russia put a stop to that as he settled over America, straddling his hips as he sat on the smaller nation to get him to stop moving.

"Now, now, Дорогой, no need to go off like that. I said I would not hurt you and I meant it."

"Commie sonuva... sonova bitch…" America slurred, ignoring the statement.

"Capitalist pig." Russia sighed, wanting America to just give in already.

"Git- git offa me you … you Red b-bastard…" America slurred again as he tried in vain to push Russia off, but Russia was settled down securely, his hands holding himself up on either side of America's head.

"I do not think so, America." Russia said. "You could have pushed me off already if you wanted to, you are certainly strong enough, but you have not, you have only been pretending to. So why is that? You want it, yes, but you are… ashamed? There is no need to be ashamed, Дорогой, what we want is natural and it will be fun and only we will know so you do not have to be worried about what the others might think…"

"Nnngh" Was America's only response as he turned his head to the side, not even able to bear looking at Russia.

"'Nnngh' yes or 'Nnngh' no?" Russia asked. "I am approaching the limit of my patients."

And again America gave an unclear, mumbled response. Russia sighed agitatedly, and somewhat sadly?

"If you continue to look away from me I will assume you mean no." He whispered, some sadness creeping into his voice.

America kept his head turned, facing away. Russia sighed in defeat and sat up, no longer hovering over America.

"If that is what you wish, Дорогой, then I suppose I should leave…" But just as Russia was about to get up, a flash of blond hair distracted him and clumsy lips pressed onto his. Russia was surprised to say the least, but oh so very happy about this.

"P-please don't… don't leave…" America slurred again. Russia smiled; this one was warm though, genuine, unlike all the other cold and fake ones before.

"No, I won't." Russia began. "Я никогда не покину вас."

America didn't know how they had gotten to the bed, and he was only able to mildly comprehend the buttons on his shirt being undone. All he really knew was that there were lips on his, warm and needy, crushing against his mouth, a tongue desperately seeking entrance as it licked the smaller nation's lower lip. America was only too happy to open his mouth and Russia entered eagerly.

His tongue was strong and well experienced, overwhelming America in his drunken state, invading every inch of his mouth, eliciting moans. Eventually they came up to breathe, and to get off the rest of their clothes, and so America propped himself up on his elbows, back leaning against the headboard. Russia wasted no time in shrugging off his heavy trench coat and made short work of the rest of the clothes on his upper body.

Then he began working on America's pants; he skillfully unbuttoned and unzipped them, careful to not hurt America's erection straining from the confines in his pants. Russia smirked devilishly and cupped America's manhood through his boxers. America omitted a hiss that turned into a moan.

"Russia-" he began, panting but was quickly cut off.

"You do not have to call me that. We are about to have sex, you can call me Ivan." Russia, no, Ivan, said as he slid America's pants off to the knees, having to stop because of his boots being in the way. Ivan frowned, thinking that he'd had to fix that before America leaned over to his ear and whispered:

"Then you can call me Alfred, Ivan." Ivan growled happily (so it was more like a purr) at hearing his name and, offending boots forgotten, attacked Alfred's neck, planning on giving him a hickey he would remember for quite some time…

Alfred moaned and arched against the larger man. The alcohol fogging his mind was clearing somewhat but now arousal replaced it. It was then that he decided that that was the perfect time to get rid of Ivan's pants. His hands clumsily felt their way down to his belt, still not undone, and tried to focus enough to get it off.

"Let me help you." Ivan breathed huskily and parted from Alfred long enough to undo his belt and pants; he didn't get them off very far before Alfred launched himself at the other's lips, needy and demanding. Ivan was only too happy to oblige.

And so they proceeded like that; still half clothed with their pants only half off, boots still on, Alfred's shirt unbuttoned but still hanging off of his shoulders, and sitting up against the bed's headboard.

"Are you ready, Дорогой?" Ivan asked, planting a kiss on Alfred's ear as he whispered his question into it.

Alfred muttered something unintelligible and blushed, but not from the alcohol or arousal.

"What was that?" Ivan asked, still planting kisses from Alfred's ear to his collarbone.

"Um, well… it's just… I- I've n-never really… really kinda… like um…. Uh…"

"Been with a man before?" Ivan suggested helpfully.

"N-no, not that, it's just that… that I've… never had to… to…"

"Take it up the ass?" Ivan asked, smirking as he looked the blushing man directly in the eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't put it… put it so bluntly…" Alfred said, quickly looking away from him.

"I promise to be gentle…" Ivan said, cupping the other's chin so he couldn't look away.

"F-fine," Alfred conceded. "Do you… do you have any lubricant?" He blushed about having to ask but he really didn't want to do this dry.

"Of course." Ivan said procuring a small bottle out of no where with something in Russian written on it.

"Were you planning this?" Alfred asked uneasily.

"Well yes but I admit that I did not really think it would get this far… Are you angry?"

"Maybe… but… not right now, I'll save it for tomorrow."

"Я сделаю тебя мои, и вы полюбите ее." Ivan said grinning before he roughly kissed a very confused Alfred. "You won't regret this."

And the next minute Alfred was moaning and writhing against the headboard as Ivan slipped an oiled finger past the tight ring of muscle, fingering him and preparing him. It was slightly awkward, what with Alfred still wearing his pants, although they were at his knees. But when he was able to voice this concern Ivan just smirked and carried on, adding another oiled finger. Alfred couldn't think hard enough to talk again.

Soon after the third finger had been added Ivan decided that it was time to go to the next step. He wasn't entirely sure if Alfred was ready but he couldn't wait anymore, the body trembling with ecstasy in front of him was just too appealing. Ivan pulled his fingers out; Alfred whimpered but he knew what was coming next so he tried to stifle himself.

The larger country tried to position himself correctly but it was difficult with Alfred still wearing his pants. Of course, he could just remove them but what would be the fun in that? Ivan would never tell anyone how kinky he thought having sex with clothes on was.

"Это не идет на работу." Ivan growled in frustration but then decided he'd compromise. He'd remove one leg from the pants so they'd still be on but he'd have better access. But there was the problem with the boots…

But being who he was he decided just ripping them off would be the best course of action. The sound of fabric tearing brought Alfred back to reality for a moment before his legs were spread apart and something hot and thick was pressed at his entrance. It was the first good look at Ivan's dick that Alfred had gotten… Why does he have to be bigger then me? Alfred groaned at the thought before it turned into a hitched breath as Ivan began to push in slowly. The hitched breath became ragged and a moan and then mewling, completely unable to think of anything but the thickness and the pain and the pleasure and the ohgoditsstillgoingohgod!

Ivan sighed in pleasure; the younger country was so tight and hot and even better then he thought he would be. He looked at Alfred's face then, thrown back, mouth open, moaning in ecstasy and agony from being penetrated for the first time, face and neck and shoulders and chest flushed red, and then the strands of golden sunlight hair that fell over his face. The color of a sunbeam or a sunflower…

"Ты прекрасна, моя подсолнечника." Ivan whispered as he finally settled all the way into Alfred's body.

"Nnngghha!" Was all Alfred could grind out through jaws clenched together to stifle the sounds he wanted to make.

When Ivan thought that Alfred had had enough time to get used to his length, he began to pull out and thrust back in. Slowly at first, he worked his way up, further stretching Alfred, letting him get used to stretching muscles that weren't used to this.

Alfred moaned deeply, his hips jerking in vain to get more. Ivan obliged, speeding up and deepening his thrusts. He kept angling himself differently, searching for something until suddenly Alfred gasped and clung tightly to Ivan.

"Oh God, what was that?" Alfred moaned and cried out again as Ivan thrust back into that same spot.

"Your prostate." Ivan grunted and hit that spot again and again and again.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God!" Alfred was lost in pleasure as he writhed uselessly against Ivan. Ivan was somewhat surprised to see Alfred in so much pleasure. None of his other bed mates had ever responded so keenly. Well except maybe for his old Czarina, Catherine.

They continued like this for a few more minutes before Alfred cried out sharply and came. Ivan was startled, he didn't think the American would have come so quickly because he himself was no where near finished. He looked down in between them and saw that, indeed, Alfred had organismed but he was still hard. Ivan slowed down his pace and looked at Alfred questioningly.

"Oh, um." He began, looking away blushing. "You can keep going; I'm not really done…"

"Well, obviously." Ivan said and thrust in again sharply. But when Alfred gasped Ivan took that chance capture his mouth. He also snaked his hand down between them and grasped Alfred's cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts. It was all Alfred could do but cling to the Russian and dig his nails into the larger man's back.

After a few more minutes Alfred came again, but still remained hard. It was all good though because Ivan wasn't done and probably wouldn't be for some time. It wasn't just his army that could last an ungodly amount of time…

But soon Ivan felt the end nearing. It wasn't long before he himself was panting and moaning as unabashedly as Alfred. But he came undone when Alfred suddenly lunged forward, knocking Ivan on his back, and took control. Alfred raised himself up and slammed back down onto Ivan, impaling himself on the man's cock. He did so a few times before Ivan roughly grabbed Alfred's hips and pulled him down as his buried cock spent itself inside the smaller nation.

Alfred collapsed on top of Ivan, not quite done himself but still exhausted. Ivan pulled out of Alfred and rolled them over on his side, sliding Alfred off in the process. He noticed Alfred's still hard and straining cock and gently gripped it as he stroked it a few more times until Alfred came breathlessly, still holding onto Ivan.

"That was awesome." Alfred began, his voice soft as sleep tugged at him.

"Of course it was." Ivan mumbled back, also fading into sleep. "That's why you should become one with Mother Russia."

Alfred chuckled softly. "Not gonna happen, big guy. Not while you're still a commie bastard."

"If sex with you is always this good then maybe I will reconsider my choice in governments."

"It totally is." Alfred yawned. "Now shut up and go to sleep."


Так мило ... ~ So cute…

Дорогой ~ Dear one

Я не думаю, что я могу ... ~ I don't think I could…

Я никогда не покину вас. ~ I'll never leave you.

Я сделаю тебя мои, и вы полюбите ее.~ I will make you mine, and you will love it.

Это не идет на работу. ~ This isn't going to work.

Ты прекрасна, моя подсолнечника. ~ You are beautiful, my sunflower.