Russia hummed to himself pleasantly as he walked home from a United Nations meeting that had been held in a hotel nearby. The air was cold – it was always cold at his place – and his breath came out in cloudy wisps as he exhaled. It was twilight; stars were beginning to sparkle in the sky, one by one. He walked calmly through the alleyway – his favorite shortcut – and admired the scenery around him as he strolled.

Something clattered to the ground behind him, and he whipped around, iron pipe at the ready.


He could not possibly have imagined it, though, so he turned around slowly, still on full guard.

There, right in his face, was his sister, Belarus. He jumped in fear, automatically raised his pipe to strike. When he put two and two together, though, he shakily lowered his cane. "O-oh, Belarus, it's you!" He exclaimed, attempting to laugh away his discomfort.

Belarus said nothing, which unnerved him further.

"S-sister?" Russia gulped, taking one half-step back.

She pounced on him, then, stuck his head with something hard. Shocked, he was unable to block her attack before it came. Russia fell to the ground, ears ringing, and stared up at his sweet little sister.

That was the last thing he saw before he blacked out.

He awoke some time later in a room he did not recognize. As his vision cleared, he attempted to move, only to realize his arms were tied behind him and his legs to the chair he was sitting on.

Then, after taking all that in, he began taking stock of his body.

His head throbbed from where Belarus had struck him, but that was nothing compared to what the rest of his body was feeling.

It was though his entire body was on fire. Every fiber of his being shook and trembled with a lust he had never felt before. His member throbbed painfully, to the point where he could not ignore it. He felt that any little attention to it would push him over the edge.

He just then noticed that he was naked. Sweat coated his body like a thin layer of clothing, and he could not get enough air into his lungs.

Drugged, he was definitely drugged. He had to ignore that detail, though, because he needed attention and release. Russia groaned with the pressure below his waist, rolled his head to the right.

"Nngh, B-belarus," he called, mentally begging his sister to be somewhere nearby.

She did this sort of thing to him often; often enough for him to stop begging her to stop as she took her fill, but not often enough for him to predict her next attack. She seemed to have a sporadic nature about this; they could be conversing and working together at the United Nations one week and then he would be tied up and begging for mercy the next.

This is why he feared her.

"Belarus!" He cried again as another shockwave of lust ran through him. Russia groaned, tried buckling his hips as some sort of release.

If anything, that just made the pressure and lust even worse. More painfully strong waves of lust ran through him, and his breathing deepened. "Sisteeeeer!" He yelled, needing her like he never wanted to.

She walked in through a door directly in front of him, perfectly naked and brandishing only one thing: the knife she so cherished. Russia gulped and appreciated her figure, even though he never would normally.

Wordlessly, she approached and straddled him, cruelly placing his entrance alongside his length. He whimpered, looked down at their organs because he could not bring himself to look at her face.

Belarus roughly grabbed her brother's chin, forced him to look up at her. "Useless trash," she growled in Russian, causing shivers to run down Russia's spine. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget what happened the next morning." She purred this into his ear, running the edge of her blade down the length of his abdomen. Russia groaned, tears falling down his face from the torture. He was usually reduced to this, even though he hated it, when his sister tortured him so.

"Nngh, Bel –" he began, but was cut off when his sister screamed at him to shut up, slammed her hand over his mouth.

"Don't say a word unless you're screaming for more," she hissed. Russia whimpered, unable to do anything else.

Silently, Belarus slunk down so that she was on her knees before him. She took his dick in her hand – elucidating a cry of pleasure from her brother – and rubbed it slowly, tortuously for a moment. Russia pondered why he hadn't come yet, then looked down and realized his sister had put a rung around his length so that he could not obtain the release he so craved.

His sweet little sister took the tip of his extension in her mouth, throated it a bit and stroked the rest. Russia groaned, threw his head back and winced. This was not fair.

Belarus increased her sucking and pumping, grunting a little as she deep-throated him. The elder whined, his body trembling like it never had before. He needed that release so badly; his body screamed and begged for it, though there was nothing he could do for it.

As she continued, Russia lost more and more of his ration thought. he no longer realized what he was doing – when he screamed and groaned in pleasure and begged for more and release, he had no idea he was doing it.

The younger country cooed around the elder's penis, sending tsunamis of lust rolling through him.

Agonizingly, Belarus left his organ completely and looked up to him.

Their eyes met and they sat like that for a moment, staring at one another and panting. Belarus stood slowly, mounted him again. "I love you, big brother," she whispered maliciously into his ear, gripping his chin and twisting his neck so that his ear was by her mouth.

Russia whimpered, panted, but said nothing in response.

Something cool pressed against him, just beneath his left nipple. "Tell me you love me," Belarus whined, though nothing in her voice was innocent or needy.

Russia groaned but forced himself to reply, "I…I love you, little sister."

Then Belarus' lips were slammed on his, his chin relinquished. Belarus bit down on his lower lip, drawing a lot of blood. Russia whined and opened his mouth, granting her entrance. Her tongue slipped inside his cavern, brusquely enjoyed all he had.

She grabbed his chin once more, broke off the kiss. "I love you, big brother," she whispered, her lips brushing against his.

"I love you –"

"Why won't you marry me?" Belarus cut him off, sliding the knife along his jaw line, then down his throat. "I just want us both to be happy, and I know the best way to do that is to get married. Don't you love me?"

"Bel –" He cut himself off with a moan as Belarus slipped his probe inside her. "Belarus," he whispered as she rode him roughly. It was so good…

She increased the friction and roughness, screamed when she reached her climax. Belarus fell onto him, panting, and gripped at the skin of his shoulders until it bleed. Then, after a painfully long moment, she disentangled herself from him and removed the circular piece controlling his cum.

He came as instantly as he was able, with a cry of delight and a slight buckling of the hips.

"I love you, big brother," she whispered, resting her forehead on his.

"I…I love you, too, sister," Russia whispered, unable to meet her gaze.

She kissed him softly, as though apologizing, before slinking off him and beginning the process of untying him. "Promise not to leave without me knowing?"

Something weird twitched in his stomach. "Promise," he forced, though his gut had other ideas.

"I'm going to take a shower," Belarus told him, as though everything was perfectly normal. She always did this, and it drove Russia mad. He watched her intently as she moved off to the bathroom, made a mad dash for the knife she left behind when she closed the door.

Russia's thoughts were a dizzying array of purple, black, white, and red.

Blood red.

Something in him snapped, as he was so apt to do, though now it had snapped and was geared toward his sister.

His dear little sister.

"Kol kol kol," he murmured, making his way to the bathroom. The drugs had yet to stabilize within his system; he felt himself getting hard again, but he paid that no mind.

Silently, Russia opened the door to the bathroom, bloodlust controlling him. Belarus was singing her country's anthem, looked like she was soaping her hair.

Russia approached slowly, then ripped the shower curtain open.

Belarus' singing was cut off with a screech as she jumped and turned around. "O-oh, brother," she breathed with relief. "Would you like to join me?" She smiled as though everything was perfectly normal, as though nothing un-normal had ever transpired between them, as though the situation now was perfectly normal.

Russia fumed inwardly, kept up a silent exterior as he climbed into the shower.

Belarus turned her back to him and continued to wash her hair out.

Russia swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet, a Russian lullaby playing within his thoughts.

A second later, he slammed Belarus against the wall of the shower with his body, then slammed his member into her tight, tight back entrance and thrusted with all his might. Belarus screamed, began to beg for mercy.

That just got him off more. With the knife-bearing hand pointed at her chin and the other pulling brusquely at her hair, Russia took his time in relieving himself. Finally he did, coming inside her with a moan. Slowly, still relishing the feel, he pulled out.

With nothing to support her, Belarus collapsed to the floor of the shower, panting with the aftershock. "Brother," she whispered, looking up to him, "I love you." When Russia slowly lowered himself to her level but said nothing, she begged, "Tell me you love me."

Her smile remained sweet and innocent, even as he raised the knife above his head.

"I love you, brother," she swore as he plunged the knife into her chest.

She grunted, tears rolling down her cheeks, but never screamed. Now, a waterfall of blood rushed out of her breast, a shocking but un-pitiable gash. "B-brother," Belarus whispered, her voice shaky.

Russia, lost in the sea of blood, gave no chance for her to continue. Mindlessly, he pulled the blade form her chest and stabbed it back into her, over and over. Pictures of their grotesque relationship flashed through his mind with each sob, and with each picture he only stabbed faster and deeper.

Blood was everywhere, and only when Belarus' life was truly ebbing away did Russia realize what he had done.

All of a sudden, he flashed back to himself. Dropped the knife in shock and shaking, Russia cried out Belarus' name and held her close, rocking back and forth in despair.

"Brother…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Brother…I love you…"

"I love you, too, Belarus!" Russia sobbed, holding her even tighter.

"Brother," she murmured, "Take…my land. Make it…part of yours. Then…Then I can truly…become one…with…"

There was a pause. "Sister, sister, no! I'm sorry! Please don't leave me!"

But she was silent, lifeless.

A few days later, the great country of Russia announced that it was even greater, even larger. Stoically, Russia declared that Belarus had become one with him, and that the land was his, only his.

Sometimes, when he thought about, he could hear Belarus inside of him, whispering his name and telling him she loved him. He could feel her presence within his thoughts and could see her just around corners, just slightly out of his field of view. But he knew she was there, watching him, supporting him, and constantly telling him she loved him.

It was maddening.