Opening Statements: Hiii, I'm Shadow-chan, I posted a oneshot a while ago if anyone cared enough to read it. But that's not what I'm supposed to be talking about. No, this...this thing, whatever it's supposed to be, that's what I'm supposed to be talking about. ...I think. Anyway: this is a project I've been working on for quite a while during my temporary retirement from FF dot net, and I can honestly say that (I wrote this particular chapter a loooong time ago, I'm talking four or five months here) this here is a piece of shit. I spent so much time on it and my writing can't measure up to my ridiculously high standards... But yes, this is the first chapter of a big project I've been working on, and as far as I've written (I have around 30 chapters written) every single chapter has some sort of sexual scene in it. Every. Damn. Chapter. It kills me. Well, anyway, if anyone wants to read it, then go ahead. If you've taken the time to read this, then thanks for listening to me complain. Thank you and if you want to read on, then go right ahead. But please read the warning beforehand. Oh, and last minute apology, I am so sorry for the excessive amount of Russian in this, all translations are at the bottom. I used google translate, so if you're Russian please don't kill me if I mangled your sexy language as I'm sure I have. *pewf*

Summary: It's a relationship without 'I love you's, a relationship built on sex, hate and tension where years before there the only thing missing had been the sex. And as much as both of them despise the thought, their hate isn't exactly platonic. Warnings inside

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just waste my time writing and making the nations do fucked up shit. Don't sue, I'm poor.

WARNING: Rape/non-con, dub-con if you squint, inappropriate use of a pipe, bondage, language, some blood, and did I mention rape?

影ちゃん

To say that America's political relationship with Russia was 'strained' was a rather large understatement. Even if the Cold War had been over for years, the blonde couldn't find it in himself as a nation to see Russia as someone who wasn't an enemy, even despite the fact that their superiors had pretty much become best friends.

America was nervous around Russia the same way that everyone else was. Not that he'd ever admit it- the hero is never nervous in the presence of the villain! He wasn't scared or anything, it was more like he didn't really want to be around the larger country. Most of the time, he could see Russia's handy faucet pipe just barely poke out of his long coat, strategically placed for convenient access in case he wanted to whack someone with it.

So, even though America knew he wasn't afraid of Russia, he was still nervous when the larger nation approached him after one of the world meetings and almost everyone else had filed out the door. America was putting a couple papers away after his usual speech on how he would make the world way more awesome with super heroes made from nuclear waste or biological manipulation to save everyone in need and stop crime and stuff as well as opt to put extra fast food places in all the third world countries so that they wouldn't starve anymore.

"Good afternoon, Америка," Russia said politely, smiling that big, innocent smile that America knew was completely fake.

"What do you want, you commie bastard?" America snapped. He didn't want to waste time placating to the Russian's facade of innocence. He knew better than anyone that underneath Russia's plastic smile laid a very sadistic man.

"Ah, but Alfred, I am no longer a communist country, and have not been for quite a while now..." He looked rather hurt by America's words, a finger drawn to his mouth as if he were trying hard to keep up the look of innocence on his face while adding in a 'kicked puppy' look to the mix.

America didn't respond to that, and finished shoving his papers into his bag. "What the hell do you want?"

"Of course, straight to the point!" Russia giggled, very unawesome-like in America's opinion. "We are currently on good terms, da?" The word "good" being used very loosely. Between Russia and America 'good terms' simply meant they weren't at war and that they hadn't traded nuclear missile threats for about a week.

"Uh...I guess." America chewed on his bottom lip, not quite sure what Russia was getting at. He nervously glanced at the larger nation's coat, where he could clearly see a small bit of the pipe available for the world to see. America turned away from Russia, which, later, he would regret greatly. He shouldn't ever turn away from Russia.

"Oh, good! Then perhaps you won't be too upset when I do this?" America was about to turn and ask what the man was talking about when suddenly he could feel the metal pipe- he knew it just had to be the metal pipe- smash against the back of his head like a shovel attached to a bag of bricks. The last thought he had before everything went black was whether or not Texas had flown off his face at impact.

When America came to, he picked up with the last thought he'd had. His immediate instinct was to check his face for Texas in case it had fallen off, but was rather surprised to find that his hands were bound tightly behind his back with thick rope. His head was pounding, no doubt a side-effect of getting smacked in the back of the head with a broken faucet pipe.

Realizing that it was unusually drafty, America lifted his head from where he lay on his side on a king-sized bed and realized that he was stark naked, with Florida out in the air for anyone to see. "What the hell! Where the fuck am I!" America shouted, beginning to struggle. He found that his ankles were also bound together in a way he would've liked to have passed up as the thick, scratchy rope dug into his bare skin.

"I see that you're awake. It has taken you long enough, da?"

America recognized Russia's heavily accented English and immediately reacted by struggling and shouting, "You commie bastard! Untie me and give me back my fucking clothes, it's cold! What the hell do you think you're doing! This is so stupid, why'd you tie me up! This is so not awesome!" America paused to breathe, and noticed his glasses were missing. "And where the fuck is Texas you thieving pervert!"

"Oh, did you want these back, Alfred?" Russia giggled, the very definition of glee. America glared at him as soon as he came into his line of vision. Russia had his pipe in one hand, and was dangling Texas in front of America in the other.

"You red asshole! That's a declaration of war, give me back Texas!" America shouted, struggling against the bonds even more. He didn't accomplish much, only ending up rolled over onto his stomach. He huffed as he moved his head so his face wasn't pressed against the bed he was lying on.

"Now, now, Америка, I've told you time and time again that I am no longer a communist country. I am like you now, da? So you can stop with the name calling, da? You are beginning to hurt my feelings," Russia tsk'd as he carefully put the glasses in their rightful place on America's face. He placed his now empty, gloved hand on the back of America's neck and raised his pipe to tap the top of the American's head gently, taking care not to hurt him. "I'm very sure that you have many questions, and I will answer them all in time." Russia slid the pipe further down, brushing over America's spine and eventually coming to rest on the American's bare ass.

"Jeezus fuck, that's cold! Get your fuckin' pipe off my ass, god knows where that thing has been!" America exclaimed as he shuddered at the freezing metal against his bare skin, trying to shake off the Russian's touch. "What the hell do you want! Whatever it is I'm sure you didn't need to tie me up!"

"Hm, nyet, I believe I do have to keep you restrained, otherwise I won't get what I want." Russia moved his hand from America's neck to the top of his head. He took America's ahoge and rubbed it between two of his gloved fingers as he looked down at the blonde from the side of the bed.

A loud, wanton moan emitted from America's throat as Russia tugged gently at his defiant cowlick. A very loud moan.

"Oh?" Russia said, his violet eyes going wide. His lips curled up into a smile, different than his usual innocent, childish one. "Is this maybe your," he paused to think of the word in English, "erogenous zone?" He continued to rub the ahoge between his thumb and index finger, enjoying the noises the American made for him.

"F-fuck you!" America exclaimed through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep from moaning. It was hard. "St-stop messing with Nantucket you red bastaaaaard!" He clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly, wishing he had something to grab onto. He shuddered every couple seconds as Russia continued to assault Nantucket, and cursed himself as he began to get hard from the action. He hated to admit it, but it felt so good that Russia was rubbing Nantucket like that, the way the gloved fingers felt massaging his ahoge. 'Dammit, Florida, don't you dare salute!' America bit back another moan, inwardly cursing as all the blood in his body went south, straight to Florida.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself. Or are those noises from pain? I'm sure you must have a headache!" Russia giggled innocently, sitting beside America on the bed. He toyed with Nantucket a little more before letting go and placing his hand back at the back of the American's neck. "Now, if you would like to ask questions, I will answer."

"Where the fuck am I!" America immediately blurted out as soon as the words left Russia's mouth.

"My house, 40 miles East of Moscow."

"What! How long have I been unconscious!"

"Approximately five and a half hours," Russia hummed, the childish smile returning. The hand that contained the pipe tightened, rubbing the metal rod with his thumb absentmindedly.

Okay, he could believe that. The world meeting had been hosted in England, and it was only about a four and a half hour plane ride from England to Moscow. "Okay." America took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "What do you want with me?"

America quickly learned this was the correct question to be asked, because suddenly Russia's childish, innocent act was dropped as he grabbed him roughly by the hair and yanked his head back, causing a small "Yipe!" to leave America's lips.

"I want to break you, Америка." Russia sneered, a very disgusted look crossing his features. He laced his fingers into America's dirty blonde hair, tightening his grip and yanking hard once more. "Я разобью тебе, то ты станешь один с Россией, dа?"

"Ow! Ease off the hair, big guy! And speak English you commie bastard! I can't understand whatever the hell you're saying!" America grunted, trying to ignore the pain of his hair being pulled so roughly. 'I think I prefer it when he's being creepy...' he thought, slightly sarcastically as his hair continued to be yanked, pulled and abused.

Russia frowned. He lessened his grip on America's hair and allowed his head to fall from the awkward position, but kept his fingers entwined in America's soft blonde locks, enjoying how they looked slipping through his gloved fingers. "Stupid, stupid American. You are in no position to demand anything, yet you continue to spout orders. No matter, you have more questions, dа?"

"Yeah! I do! Why the hell are you doing this!"

"The same answer as to what I am doing. I want to break you, my dear Alfred, and that is what I intend to do." The creepy, childish smile edged at Russia's lips as he chuckled, but it didn't get a chance to fully form before it dissolved from his face and was replaced by a disapproving frown.

The words seemed to have much more impact the second time they were said. America wiggled a little, partly testing his bonds a little more and partly fidgeting nervously under Russia's intense gaze. "And...what are you going to do exactly?" America asked, swallowing heavily. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, really. He just wanted to hope this was a fucked up dream and wake up on the plane ride home to ask the flight attendant for some coffee.

"Ah, that is what this is for," Russia giggled, the innocent look coming back onto his features as he used the pipe in hand to tap America's ass lightly. He had a look of absolute glee on his face, and that didn't sit right with the American. At all.

"H-hunh? What? What the hell does that mean!" America exclaimed, scowling up at the Russian man. His neck was beginning to hurt from how he had to hold his head up to look up at Russia. "Give me an answer! And tell me why I'm naked!"

"Because it was required for the way I want to break you." Russia giggled again, tilting his head comically as he peered down at America from where he sat beside him.

"Gah, would you stop saying that! It's creepy! What the fuck is that supposed to mean, anyway!" America shouted, squeezing his eyes shut irately. This wasn't making any sense, he wasn't sure he wanted it to. He blurted out another "Ow!" as his hair was once more yanked and his head was pulled back yet again.

"It means that I am going to violate you, Америка." Russia glared at him with his steely, violet eyes, in stark contrast to the sickly sweet smile on his face. This smile was even more fake than the others, to the point of plasticity. It reeked of 'cover up' more than his normal smile. And seriously, this guy's mood swings happened so fast it was totally not cool.

Florida twitched the sound of those venom and artificial sweetener-soaked words. America hated how they seemed to make him want to know what Russia intended to do. He hated how his body reacted. He hated that he liked being dominated like this. And in all honesty, he was seriously starting to get really creeped out by this. "Er...how?" America coughed nervously, looking up at the large Russian man's face rather meekly. He tried to tug his head forward a little, to loosen Russia's grip on his hair, but failed miserably.

"I have already answered that question, dа?" Russia giggled, and brought America's attention back to his trusty faucet pipe that still rested on the American's ass cheeks. The metal had warmed up by then, and America had pretty much forgotten it was there. Russia moved the pipe so that it slipped between America's perfectly shaped cheeks, rubbing it there a little, almost gently. "I intend to violate you with this!" It was a menacing threat, poorly disguised as a giggle.

It seemed to take a few minutes for the words to settle in and register in America's mind as he looked up at Russia with wide, sky-blue eyes, his jaw dropped just the slightest bit. Finally, he responded. "What the fuck you red pervert! You don't do that to a hero like me!" America shouted, beginning to struggle once more. "You don't do any of this stuff to a hero, seriously! That's like, totally not cool! I'm the hero, you're the villain, it's not supposed to be like this! We're supposed to have an epic, fair, fight where I kick your ass and you skulk off back to your evil lair to think of some other dastardly plan as I save the girl and unlock the super-awesome cutscene where she totally kisses me and stuff because I'm all heroic and she's all gratefu-MMPH!"

America didn't get to finish his rant of how he thought the "epic battle" should end as Russia huffed and pushed his face into the mattress, effectively silencing him. Well, not silencing per se, but at least making him quieter.

"You talk too much, Америка," Russia sighed. He added a quiet, "you didn't used to think I was a villain." It was more for nostalgia's sake than much else. After a few moments he was sure America was done ranting, so he pulled the blonde's head back up, out of the mattress.

"What the hell, commie bastard! I couldn't breathe!" America coughed, wincing as his hair was tugged forcibly once more. He looked like he was about to go on another rant, so Russia just shoved his face back into the mattress.

"Your silly tirade does not matter to me." Russia tutted, shaking his head as if he found the entire situation aggravating. He pulled America's head back up and ignored the blonde's violent coughs and attempts to suck the air greedily into his oxygen deprived lungs. "Because truly, Alfred, nyet, the heroes do not always win, and you are not in fact the hero that you believe yourself to be." He went on before America could protest, "I want to break you of this mindset you seem so intent on continuing and let you know how much I truly hate you. I want to force you to endure mental torture and anguish until you come crawling back to me, pathetically begging to become one with Russia."

"You fucking psycho! That'll never happen in a zillion bajillion years! I-I'm the fuckin' hero!"

"The fact that you are spouting out numbers that do not exist in any language means that your resolve is weakening, dа?" Russia purred, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he moved himself behind America, moving his hand from the blonde's head to his waist. The large Russian man took great amusement in how America desperately tried to look over his shoulder to look at him, but was unsuccessful. Russia laughed loudly and set his pipe down beside the blonde. Grasping America by his sides roughly, he pushed him into an awkward position, his weight on his knees, his face planted on the mattress.

"H-hey! Stop that! Geez it's cold in here!" America yelled into the foam, shuddering at the cold air. There wasn't a breeze or anything, it was just unnaturally cold. Then he gasped loudly as a large, leather-clad hand enclosed around his member, forcing a moan from him. "Wh-what the fuuuuuuck!" He dragged out the word unintentionally as another hand reached up and began toying with Nantucket once more, only serving to make him harder.

Russia swiped his tongue over his lips greedily, taking in the delicious sight before him. "You know, my dear Alfred," it annoyed the fuck out of America how much stress the Russian put on the word 'dear', "I have wanted to have this view of you ever since the beginning of Холо́дная война́. Since much before then, even."

America didn't need a translator, or to even ask what those Russian words meant. They were very familiar to him. It irked him that Russia could bring up the Cold War during such a time with such nonchalance. Sure, maybe the entire thing had just been pretty much fifty years of sexual tension and stubborn scuffles, but it still wasn't a very attractive time between the two nations. They had both said and done...things. Things that couldn't be taken back. Things that expressed how much true loathing they held for one another. "F-fuckin' creep..." America trembled under the feeling of Russia's hands. He moaned and arched as Nantucket was tugged gently, almost caressed by Russia's gloved fingers. God how he wished he would take those things off so he could be touched properly...

And suddenly his touch was gone.

A whine escaped America's throat. A pathetic, weak, begging whine that he instantly hated himself for. Heroes don't whine, he yelled at himself. America tried to shift his head so that Texas wasn't sitting quite so painfully close to his face, and he pushed his hips back, wanting more of Russia's soft touches. It was so not awesome that Russia had just stopped in the middle like that! Total cocktease! And he really should not want this as much as he did.

"Nyet, my dear Alfred," Russia chuckled. He swept his tongue over his lips, very much enjoying that small, pathetic sound America had made for him. He wanted more than just that tiny tease of a sound. "This is not for you, it is for me." The words tasted sweet, flowing easily from Russia's lips. "I told you, I am going to break you. That does not translate into 'pleasure you.' Unless of course you enjoy the thought of fucking yourself on my pipe." Russia watched as America tensed up at those words and shook a little, like the way he said it this time had much more impact compared to the first, when it only incited yelling.

Russia reached for his pipe that lay beside America with one hand as his other reached down to his own arousal still caged in his pants. He stroked himself through the fabric a few times as the mental image of fucking America with the pipe occupied his thoughts completely. Beautiful. "Я не собираюсь растянуть вас, поэтому я надеюсь, что вы не возражаете кровотечения для меня."

America didn't like it at all that the large Russian was threatening him (or at least that's what it sounded like to him) in a language he couldn't understand. It was just so, totally...not cool!

America's mental rant was cut short before it even had time to begin by one end of the cold metal pipe pressing against his hole. He froze, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to think. The only thought that crossed his mind was, 'shitshitshit this is actually happening.'

As Russia twisted the pipe and pushed it into America's body, he nimbly reached forward and shoved two gloved fingers into the blonde's mouth, effectively stifling the scream he had been about to emit. As much as Russia wanted to hear the American scream in complete agony with that beautiful voice of his, he couldn't risk making too much noise- he would risk being noticed by the other people in the house, and he didn't want to jeopardize himself or America by someone finding them in a compromising position. This sight- this act- it was for his eyes alone to see, and no one else could be allowed to lay eyes on his America.

A silent sob racked its way through America's body, spasms overtaking him violently. It hurt. It hurt so much. The large fingers in his mouth were making him want to gag, the stale, leathery taste flooding his mouth. America felt something wet slide down his thighs and lifted his back to try and peer underneath him. He could see blood trickling down his legs and soaking into the sheets beneath him, he could see the pipe sliding into him, and, from the right angle, he could just barely see Russia's smiling face.

Beautiful. It was the only word Russia could think of, the only word that fit. Russia wanted nothing more than to slice through the bonds that held America's ankles together, flip him over and fuck him so hard he screamed loud enough that everyone in the world heard it. 'Not yet,' Russia told himself. He had to be patient. Fucking America didn't come into the plan until later. 'Make him beg first. Make him beg to become one.'

Tears threatened to spill over America's cheeks, but he held them in. He wouldn't let himself cry. He couldn't. His pride as a man, and as a nation, wouldn't allow him to cry in Russia's presence. He was the United States of fucking America. He could not cry. At least that's what he wanted to believe. America clenched his bound hands into fists, trying to find purchase. He squeezed his eyes shut as the pipe began to move in and out of him, causing frictions and more blood to spill, and the thought of biting down on Russia fingers came to mind. He acted on it.

Russia winced and withdrew his fingers instinctively, growling low in his throat. The hand that had a firm grip on the pipe pulled it out until it was only barely inside the American, then thrust it back inside, much deeper than what seemed possible. "My, my, Америка," Russia sneered. "How rude of you to harm your host."

America screamed into the mattress as the pipe went too far into him. This time a single tear slipped passed his defenses. "St-stooop...!" He sobbed, the words muffled by the bed he was speaking into. "T...t-too... I-it's too deep!"

"Tell me," Russia growled, grabbing America by the hair and yanking his head back painfully so that the American was facing the ceiling. He pulled the pipe out just the smallest bit, and pushed it in even further than before. "Tell me more, tell me how much pain you feel."

As the flood gate broke and the tears silently cascaded down America's face, his livid, blue eyes full of raw anger finally found Russia's face. "Fuck you," he spat, eyes swimming with pain and anger. "I b-bet you do this to all the people you fucking rape with your fucking pipe you creep."

Russia's eyebrows rose in amusement. He loosened his grip on America's hair and pushed the American's face down gently, stifling the quiet sobs as his hand drifted down to the back of the blonde's neck. "You think I do this to others?" he giggled and twisted the pipe inside of America to create painful friction. "Nyet. Nyet, I saved this punishment solely for you, my dear Alfred. Dа, there were many times I was tempted to do this to others. But I saved it for you. As of now, this pipe has been inside no one but you. Don't you feel good, knowing I reserved it only for you?"

"Yeah, like I'm supposed to be flattered or something, you piece of commie shit," America whispered through gritted teeth. His legs quivered; he no longer had any feeling left in his lower body other than pain. He winced slightly as the pipe started up again, in and out of him, this time in a different angle. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the world. He didn't care anymore. He tried to think of anything else, to think that this wasn't happening to him, but the harsh reality was still haunting him with every tiny movement and every drop of blood that leaked from his torn insides.

Russia's lids fell to half mast, his pants too tight for words to explain. "Вам больно, мой дорогой Альфред?" English vacated his mind and only the familiar Russian words seemed to be within grasp in his mind clouded with lust and power. He made sure his wrist kept up the work of pulling and pushing the pipe in and out, loving the view of watching it disappear into America's body only for him to pull it back out, coated in the American's blood. "Будете ли вы кричать? Для меня? Я действительно нахожу эти крики ваши так вкусно, знаете ли." Russia wanted so bad to speak those words in English, for America to hear and obey. It was such a pity that he only spoke that ugly, cold language, and not his own beautiful native tongue.

Without warning America screamed, like he actually could recognize Russia's foreign words, but this scream seemed much different than the pained noises he had been making before. It seemed more pleasured, like the Russian had struck some secret part of him with the pipe and he couldn't keep in the noises.

"Oh?" Russia managed to find his English just barely, his accent overtaking much of it more than usual. "You are feeling good now, dа? I have found something that makes you feel pleasure?"

"Nnn-naa-N-Nantucket! Pl-play with Nantucket!" America cried, trying to look over his shoulder and toss a pleading look at the Russian man. "Please!" He shuddered and felt sick with himself. he hated this, he hated how much his body wanted it, how much he wanted it. He wanted to not want it, but no, his body practically screamed for more despite the agonizing pain radiating from his behind.

Russia grinned and gripped America's hair tightly, enough to make the young nation cry out in pain. "You do not have the right to make demands right now, Америка." Despite his words, Russia took America's ahoge between his fingers and rubbed it, tugging and massaging. He faltered a bit in thrusting the pipe inside the blonde, but quickly regained his pattern, finding that special place inside America to make him scream in pleasure once more. "However you did say please, so-"

Russia was interrupted by his phone ringing.

He halted in all actions, pausing to listen for just a moment, as if he was checking- yes, someone really had the audacity to call him at that exact moment. He looked down at America's tear stained face, that look that begged him for more, begged him to fuck him with his pipe and play with Nantucket and Florida.

"Ig-ignore it! D-d-don't stooop!" America whimpered and shuddered, rocking his hips and head back to try and gain contact from the Russian man. He hated himself for begging like that, the shame was weighing on his heart like a cement block, but he couldn't deny how good it felt.

It was out of pure spite that Russia answered his phone.

"Da?" Russia hummed innocently into the phone, looking straight at the wall. He was met with the voice of his superior, telling him that they needed to speak immediately, in person. Russia's gaze wandered to America, who was desperately trying to get more from him. His pants were tight and restricting against his erection, but the thought of causing pain to America was appealing even if he had to hold off. He quickly told his boss he would meet him and hung up. He pocketed his phone and looked down at America, who was looking at him with a pathetically wanton look on his face. "I have to go," Russia announced to him since the conversation had been in Russian, easily climbing off the bed. He took a moment to inspect his clothing to make sure there wasn't any blood on him, and when he was satisfied he turned to the door.

"Wh-what!" America demanded, not daring to move lest he disturb the Russian's pipe that was still inside him. He looked horrified at the thought of being left in the room alone with a pipe shoved up his ass and nothing to do but sit and wait.

"My boss has asked me to speak with him, and I must oblige." Russia knew he didn't have to do what his superior told him all the time, and he was surprised he could even walk with his current erection. Luckily his long coat hid it sufficiently enough.

"But-"

"Hush, my dear Alfred. If you are good and do not make a single sound I will hurry back," Russia chuckled, waggling a single finger at the American. He smiled, half innocently, half smugly as he watched America bury his face in the mattress. "Now be good while I'm gone, pet." Being able to call America that was worth the deathly glare that the blonde sent at him.

Russia hurried to his boss's office, which was more or less across town. It annoyed him greatly, but the thought of the tortured American lying in his bed waiting for him to get back kept him going. After his driver dropped him off in front of the building he quickly made his way to the top floor.

When he was done (something about America's boss calling and China saying Russia was the last person he was with, he hadn't really been paying all that much attention) Russia took his leave to return to his car. He sped back home at record speed, letting his mind wander to an image of America, still on his bed. He wasn't deterred by his boss's words at all. He did know he had to make his time count though, maybe only two hours, but it was plenty of time to have his way with the American. His cock had softened by the time he had gotten to his superior's office, but a few mental pictures and thoughts of what he would do to America fixed that quickly. As the car pulled up in front of his house, he was hard once more and wasted no time in making his way back to his room.

The sight he was met with was even better than he had imagined.

America lay in the same position, hips high and head down, pushing his hips back with a frustrated look on his face and silent tears going down his cheeks, small noises of irritation and anger punctuating his every move. He was trying to rub Nantucket against the mattress, only succeeding half the time. His quiet, small moans and cries were like music to Russia's ears, the most beautiful sound between pleasure and pain he'd ever heard. Despite that, he did remember specifically telling the American to keep quiet.

"Я сказал тебе молчать, да?" Russia chuckled, amused by America's attempts to move the pipe without help. Russia walked over to the bed nonchalantly and gripped the pipe, pushing it in deeper. America moaned in response to the foreign words, even if he couldn't understand them. "Well, while I enjoy those cute little sounds, why are you making noise?"

"F-fuuuck you!" America tried to shout, but his voice trembled too much. He buried his face in the bed, too ashamed of his own body to look up at the Russian. A broken sob left his throat, rendered mute by the mattress. America squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting any further part of what Russia was doing to him. He was feeling only pain, the pleasure dissipating from his body and taking any thoughts he'd have of this turning out ok with it.

"Nyet. It is I who shall fuck you, my dear Alfred," Russia purred darkly. He still stood at the side of the bed, one hand on the pipe, keeping it stationary, and his other hand at his groin, stroking the bulge in his pants through the fabric. Fuck the plan, fuck waiting to personally ravage America, he was going to have this man now. Russia shouldered off his coat so he could toss it to the floor, leaving his scarf. He reached down with one hand and popped the button on his pants, unzipping himself fluidly. He grinned, seeing how America began shaking when he heard Russia unzip his pants. "Do not be so afraid, Америка. I know this is nothing new for you." Russia pulled the pipe out of America's body and tossed it onto the floor somewhere, too eager to fuck the blonde to put it down properly.

America let out a sigh of relief as the pipe was removed, but tensed up as the Russian's words registered in his mind. "Wh...what do you mean by that?"

"It means that I know you are no stranger to sex." Russia giggled evilly as he moved so he was standing beside the bed right beside America's head. "Francis was kind enough to provide me with a few pictures of you. Perhaps you remember it, dа? You, Francis, Antonio, Gilbert and Matthew partook in quite naughty acts."

A horrified look passed over America's face. "Th-that bastard! He told me he got rid of those pictures!" America exclaimed, burying his face into the mattress once more. "F-fuck, that means he still has the video, too..." What had happened the day those pictures were taken had quite honestly just been a joke the Bad Touch Trio had set up for America on his birthday. They'd all gotten drunk, tied Canada up and presented him to America as a joke, but America had been a bit too drunk and had taken it seriously. The night had ended up with them all having sex together and a very pleasant hangover for them all the next morning.

"Oh? There is video?" Russia asked, his eyebrows rising. "Well, I must certainly commandeer a copy from Francis then," he giggled, and he reached down, stroking himself a few times. He didn't want to pull himself out yet; he had to wait just a little longer. He wished he had those pictures on his person, but he remembered tucking them away in his dresser for safety. His favorite was the one with America riding Canada and two softened cocks in his hands, the proof of their orgasms evident on America's face. Russia personally thought that America looked beautiful when his face was covered in cum. He put his unoccupied hand at America's head and pulled him up by the hair as gently as he could. "Why don't you show me just how good Spain and France felt in those pictures, dа? Why don't you show me how good you suck cock?"

"Fuck you!" America ground out, clenching his jaw and glaring hard at Russia. "There is no fucking way I'm gonna suck your dick!"

Russia shook his head with a low chuckle. "I do not believe you have any choice in this matter, my dear Alfred, and entering you should be very painful. I'm sure that if you did this it would be much less so." Russia used his other hand to pull his member out of its confines. He smirked as America's eyes widened when he saw his size. "And remember, Alfred: if you bite me, I will bite you back much harder." Russia pulled America closer and smirked down at him. He could see America's internal struggle with the options presented to him. Russia decided to make it easier for him. "Well, if you truly don't want to, I guess I will just cause you pain. It doesn't matter to me."

"N-no, I-" America cut himself off just as he sounded like he was about to beg. If it was to make the pain more bearable, even for a just a little bit, he could swallow his pride. "I mean...I-I...I'll do it," he muttered. He hated that smug grin on Russia's face. Shame presented itself to America in the form of a lump in his throat, which he desperately tried to swallow along with his pride. The blonde shied away from Russia's size; the largest country indeed! America couldn't bring to mind anyone who was bigger. Even Florida paled in comparison, and he was bigger than average.

"I'm waiting, Alfred," Russia giggled, his violet eyes glaring down at the American. America hated that smug smirk on the larger man's face. He hated it so much. There were no words to correctly express how much he detested the way the Russian man smiled.

America squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see what was happening to him. Even so, his tongue flicked out, touching the tip of Russia's member. His head was pulled closer with a murmur of "Больше" from the Russian. He didn't need to ask what that word meant. As he forced one eye open to see what he was doing, his tongue darted out once more, caressing the underside of the head of Russia's cock and causing a moan to escape his lips.

"Не дразнить, Alfred," Russia murmured, knotting his fingers in America's hair. He brought the hand to his mouth and used his teeth to pull off the glove, and put it back at America's hair, threading his fingers through the dirty blonde locks, rubbing Nantucket absentmindedly.

America blushed heavily and whined upon the sudden attention to Nantucket. He took a shaky breath before giving Russia's length a firm lick, testing how far he could go with just licking. He didn't necessarily want to take Russia in his mouth. In fact, the thought disgusted him. He licked again, opening both his eyes. He kissed the crown of the member in his face, lapping at it every few seconds.

A quiet, low growl was emitted from Russia as he got impatient with the American. He left America's ahoge alone and instead put his hand to the blonde's jaw, forcing it open. "Возьмите все это, Америка. Я знаю, вы можете." America had no idea what those words meant, but he could guess that Russia had become irritated by his teasing.

America took the head of Russia's member in his mouth, resisting the intense urge to bite down. He opened his jaw a little wider to accommodate Russia's girth and spread his lips over the sensitive flesh, hoping to get it over with as fast as he could. He leaned in a little, his tongue working slowly over the head of Russia's member, teasing the slit and circling the tip.

"Mmm, yes, that's it, Alfred," Russia purred, pushing America's head so that he swallowed more of his cock. He watched as the blonde almost gagged, but stood strong against the challenge. "Come now, you can take more than that, can't you?" His teasing was met with a harsh glare. He just smiled down at the American and silently challenged him to take more.

America really wished he didn't want to take the Russian man up on that challenge. He really didn't. But his stupid pride got in the way and he just had to. He forced himself to take in more of Russia's large member, almost coughing. He just barely managed not to gag as the large member scraped against the back of his throat. He felt like throwing up.

"Hm, I wonder what England would say if he saw his dear little brother bowing before Russia and sucking his cock like a little slut," Russia rumbled, his eyes fluttering closed. He seemed content in his own little world, soaking in the beauty of the moment. "Perhaps I should send him a copy of those pictures, dа?"

The words caused America to tense up, not knowing whether the threat was meant to be taken seriously or not. England didn't know anything about his sexual interactions, mostly because America thought the Englishman was too much of a prude to react kindly if he actually told him. He was distracted from that thought when Russia took Nantucket between his fingers and rubbed gently. He moaned wantonly around the cock in his mouth, unable to focus as he blushed heavily at the stimulation to his erogenous zone. God, Russia's hands felt so much better when his gloves were off.

Russia muttered a few more Russian words to the blonde, pushing on his head a little to get him to focus. The Russian man trailed his other hand, the one that was still gloved, down America's back, enjoying the little shivers here and there he received. An accomplished smile overtook Russia's lips as he felt the American begin to take in more of his cock, using his tongue more. It seemed like all he had to do was stimulate the blonde's erogenous zone and he turned into putty. It gave him reference for the future. He did, after all, intend to make this happen more than once.

"Mnn!" America groaned around Russia's member. He pulled his mouth off and gave a few assured licks as a shiver ran through his body at the attention to his ahoge. "U-untie me!" The American panted heavily, giving Russia's cock a few steady licks before looking up with blue eyes. Honestly the thought of escaping was far from his mind. The reason he wanted his hands untied was so that he could better show off his skill. After all, if Russia wanted to see how good he was it was better to give it his all, right?

"I thought we had a talk about giving orders, Alfred." Russia bit back a moan, not quite wanting to allow America to see how much he was affecting him. "Are you going to run away from me?" Russia tugged a little harder than necessary on Nantucket, causing America to cry out in something that seemed like a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Nnnoo!" America promised, moaning as Nantucket was tugged again. He almost hated himself for what we was going to say. He gave Russia's shaft a strong lick, trying to keep himself occupied as the dreaded words fell from his lips, "B-but I can do better if my hands are free... Y-you're too big for me to take in all the way, god you're so fucking big, b-but if you untie me I can touch you and lick you all over...fuck, pl-play with Nantucket some more, please."

Russia thought about it for a moment, tempted by those words. He licked his lips and curled America's ahoge around his finger thoughtfully. "Hm, no. I think you're perfectly fine restrained." He moved his other hand further down, reaching America's already torn hole. "But you really are a little slut, Америка. Asking me to untie you just to give me a better suck? While this is tempting, I don't think your requests are my concern at the moment."

America whined in pain as a gloved finger was slipped inside him. It felt weird, and very painful to have something inside him once more after the pipe. He lost focus halfway through a lick as Nantucket was curled pleasantly around Russia's finger once more. Another finger entered him and began thrusting in and out, the leather of the glove rubbing his insides painfully. He made a strangled groaning noise as the fingers inside of him scissored, stretching him farther than the pipe had. "Ghh...glove..." America panted, remembering to lick at the cock in his face a couple times to keep Russia satisfied. "T-take the glove off...it f-feels so weird!"

Russia laughed. A short, bitter, mocking sound that made America shiver as Russia fisted a handful of the American's blonde hair tightly. "И получить свои грязные свиной крови, всей моей руки? Думаю, нет." America couldn't understand those words, but for some reason it hurt to hear them. Those words hurt, and he didn't even know what they meant.

Suddenly, Russia shoved America on his back, and undid the rope around the blonde's ankles hastily. America was too dazed by the sudden movement to think clearly as his legs were spread quickly. America tried to think to about anything other than what was about to happen to him as Russia cursed under his breath in Russian, trying to push his pants down farther. America squeezed his eyes shut. His hips were taken in a bruising grip as Russia aligned himself with America's entrance.

"This will hurt, I assure you." Russia gave no other warning as he shoved himself mercilessly inside of his victim completely. He savored America's screams. They sounded beautiful. Russia wanted to pound in and out of the smaller nation, but savored the first moment of penetration, the constricting, moist heat around his throbbing cock as he allowed America to adjust briefly. He wanted to cause America pain, but he had his plan to consider; he had to make sure that the American came back for more. And even if he was in pain, Russia knew America would come to like it.

A violent sob racked through America's body as a new wave a tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt like he was being ripped in half, Russia's girth stretching him passed his limits. The blonde knew he was bleeding badly, he could feel the blood dripping off down his thighs and staining the sheets beneath him. (He took a little pleasure in that, knowing that the blood wouldn't come out of the sheets easily.) America tossed his head to the side, sobbing loudly as Russia began to move inside of him roughly. He was ashamed of how his body betrayed him, his hard cock lay untouched against his body, begging for attention.

"You look beautiful like this," Russia panted, his violet eyes glazed with lust and power. He grabbed America's legs and hooked them forcefully around his waist, then began thrusting in and out quickly, relishing in the cries and whimpers his victim made for him. "So fucking beautiful."

America kept his eyes shut, unable to meet Russia's gaze. He was still in crippling agony, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He thought his body would have gone numb by then, but he could still feel everything. Suddenly he cried out in a silent sob, opening his mouth in a wide 'o' as something deep inside him was struck- something that made him see stars. For just a moment, the pain disappeared and was replaced by pleasure. Then it was gone, the pain returning once more.

Russia clenched his teeth as he thrust deep inside America, moaning low in his throat at how the blonde tightened around him. "Mmm, I have found that place, dа? You got so much tighter." Russia parted his mouth, moaning as he thrust in, much slower this time. He smirked as he watched America grimace and hold back a moan. He let go of America's hip with one hand and reached up, beginning to play with Nantucket.

America couldn't hold back his loud cries as his sweet spot was accosted, his ahoge massaged and curled pleasantly.

"Your body is mine, подсолнечник. You belong to me now," Russia panted, snapping his hips forwards harshly, making America cry out. He leaned down, muffling America's cries with his mouth. "In every way, shape and form," Russia whispered against America's lips, the hand on the blonde's hip gripping hard enough to bruise. "You are mine."

America whimpered against Russia's lips, pushing his hips down onto the Russian man's cock and bucking up into his touches. He hated himself for desperately wanting more of Russia inside of him. He tried to turn his head away from the Russian, only for the larger man to twist his hair and bring him back to ravage his mouth.

Russia let go of his victim's hip and clutched his cock, pumping him up and down savagely. The Russian man licked away America's tears, loving how they tasted on his tongue, salty and warm. The American's cries of pain and sobs were the sweetest of music to his ears, especially when mixed with the screams of pleasure he was given every time he struck America's sweet spot or curled his ahoge. He could feel his orgasm approaching. It was far too soon for his liking, but if he could finish inside of the American, he could live with it. Russia fisted America's hair and forced him to look at him. "Надеюсь, вам нравится, когда я закончу внутри тебя, шлюха."

"E-English!" America gasped, crying out loudly as Russia thrust inside him unusually hard. "Mmf, harder! Harder, you fucking commie piece of shit! Ahhh!" He shouted, gritted his teeth together as he arched his back in pleasure.

"I am going to cum inside you," Russia panted, narrowing his eyes dangerously at the American as he complied to his demands. "And like the little slut you are, you will beg for more and more." A gasp left Russia's mouth as he thrust harder and faster. "You will come back to me after this, подсолнечник. And I will be more than willing to give you more, once you beg to become one with Russia."

America whimpered, his bottom lip quivering as he arched his back into Russia's touches. Those words set his heart on fire. It felt so good to be used like this, to be controlled and dominated. It ashamed him as well as turned him on even more. "I-I'm close! Russia, I'm so close!"

"Nyet." Russia circled his fingers tightly around the base of America's shaft. "You will beg to cum, like the little whore you are, and you will use my name."

America immediately clamped his mouth shut, tears still streaming evenly down his cheeks. He wouldn't beg for that. There...there was just no way he would beg for that and use Russia's human name. What was left of his shredded and shattered pride wouldn't allow him to.

"Beg, slut. Beg to cum," Russia growled, tightening his fingers painfully around the American's cock. He pushed as far into America as he could, almost painfully so. "Бег для меня."

Aroused by those forceful words, America's cock twitched in Russia's hand and the American couldn't contain himself. He needed orgasm. He despised the words that came out of his mouth. They tasted bitter and sweet at the same time, "Pl-please...Ivan! Please, l-let me cum! I-I need it so bad! Please, Ivan, let me cum!"

A smirk appeared on Russia's lips. He leaned down and kissed America softly. "Since you said please." He released America's cock before giving it a firm stroke and thrusting deep inside him.

America came hard, semen spurting onto his chest and even getting some on his chin. The American groaned as Russia continued to thrust in an out of him, rubbing his insides even more raw than they already were. He could still feel blood leaking from his insides, and as the pleasure of orgasm began to fade the pain returned tenfold. He made quiet pained sounds every time Russia pushed inside him roughly and jostled his body up and down.

Russia let his chin drop against his chest as he closed his eyes and tried to keep moving. The way America tensed and tightened around his cock was the best thing he had ever felt. He was close, and those beautiful noises America was making for him were only bringing him closer. After a few more hard thrusts Russia tossed his head back and groaned lowly as he came deep inside the American.

When Russia pulled out of the blonde he looked at him. America was beautiful, covered in his own fluids as blood and cum leaked from his torn hole, tears streaming from his gorgeous blue eyes that looked back at him with a hurt, pained expression. Russia smiled innocently as he glared. He turned America onto his side forcefully and untied his hands before easily getting off the bed and neatly tucking himself back inside his pants.

Before America knew it, his bag was tossed next to him as well as his cell phone and a plane ticket as he sat up slowly.

"All your belongings are there, I turned off your phone for obvious reasons. I booked you a flight that leaves an hour and a half from now, I will call a cab to take you there. I expect you to vacate this place within ten minutes. Your clothes are in the bag." The words sounded cold, reaching America's ears. He didn't look up at the Russian. He couldn't find it in himself to meet those eyes.

As the door closed behind Russia, America felt so many conflicting emotions bombard him. Shame, anger, sorrow, pain. The most prominent was shame. Shame that he had given in so easily, that he had been so weak, that he had begged Russia for release and to give him more. America fell back onto the bed with quiet thump, sobbing loudly. He felt broken, filthy, and used, his pride and dignity in tatters.

And he was just being told to go home?

America cried quietly as he curled up on the bed, sore and in pain. He ached all over, and he still felt slightly full since Russia's cum was still inside him. He wiped himself off halfheartedly, disgusted by the feeling of his own cum covering his body. The seed inside of him felt even more disgusting. He felt dirty. The American buried his face into the bed, trying to ignore the pain and the hurt. What was he supposed to do now? Just leave? It didn't quite feel right to just...leave.

But even though it didn't feel right to leave, America didn't want to spend any more time in the fucking room anymore. He dressed himself, agony shooting up his spine, soreness overtaking him completely. He ran, despite the pain, ran out of the house, and true to his word, Russia had a cab waiting for America. The American decided it was better to take the cab instead of hailing his own.

As America sat in the back of the cab that was taking him to the airport, he had time to think. And cry. What was he supposed to do now? It hurt to think of what had happened to him. Why did this happen to him? Why couldn't life cut the hero some slack? Sure he wasn't a saint or anything but he didn't think he quite deserved to be raped. The word seemed too real to use, but he knew it was true.

America found no other solution other than to just go home and crawl in bed, even if it was totally unheroic.

影ちゃん

Translations:
Dа - Yes
Nyet - No
Америка - America
Я разобью тебе, то ты станешь один с Россией, да? - I'll break you, then you become one with Russia, yes?
Холо́дная война́ - Cold War
Я не собираюсь растянуть вас, поэтому я надеюсь, что вы не возражаете кровотечения для меня. - I'm not going to stretch you, so I hope you do not mind bleeding for me.
Вам больно, мой дорогой Альфред? - Are you in pain, my dear Alfred?
Будете ли вы кричать? Для меня? Я действительно нахожу эти крики ваши так вкусно, знаете ли. - Will you cry? For me? I really find those cries of yours so delicious, you know.
Я сказал тебе молчать, да? - I told you to be silent, yes?
Больше - More
Не дразнить - Do not tease
Возьмите все это, Америка. Я знаю, вы можете. - Take it all, America. I know you can.
И получить свои грязные свиной крови, всей моей руки? Думаю, нет. - And get your filthy pig blood all over my hands? I think not.
подсолнечник - sunflower
Надеюсь, вам нравится, когда я закончу внутри тебя, шлюха. - I hope you like it when I finish inside you, whore.
Бег для меня! - Beg for me!

Notes:

"My house, 40 miles East of Moscow."- One would think that a creepy ninja stalker like Russia lives in the sticks. Well, in this story it's half-true, since while he does live somewhere less populated there are towns easily accessable nearby.
The reason America has problems saying no in the beginning and why he's so affected by Nantucket and Russia's touch is due to the boost in the amount of sex American teens 13-21 are having. One might think a nation's people affect them in a similar way, ergo horny citizens, horny nation, yes? Explains a bit about France, eh?
Russia is speaking so much Russian because he doesn't necessarily believe Alfred is worth his time to speak everything in English to him. Why? Because I love making Russia an asshole.

Shadow-chan's Final Thoughts/Rants: I feel like a piece of shiiiiiiit. Again, if you're Russian and I have entirely defaced and mangled your awesome and sexy language, please don't kill me, I'm American and my only source of translation is google translate. I honestly think Russian people are like the sexiest thing ever. I only speak minimal Japanese and American...err, I mean English. If I receive positive enforcement on this then I will continue. I do have 30+ chapters on this story already written, so posting might come once a week. The summary comes from a much later chapter in the story, if you were wondering. Nothing special. The title also has something to do with a much later reference. I really wish there was a 'Sex' genre, because even though i tagged this as romance there isn't much of it. At first, that is. If you've read the webcomic Homestuck, then you should get the Kismesis joke. If you've managed to read through this flaming pile of shit I call the first chapter of my nothing-but-porn-story then congrats. You've won an achievement.

Note From The Editor: Hey so this is old as dirt, seriously. Shadow-chan's ashamed of it because she's better now. You'll see what I mean later. ~GreyRose

Shadow-chan feeds off of reviews, constructive criticism is her favorite food, compliments are her favorite sweets and flames only fuel the fire that bakes her the cakes for all the people who leave her nice reviews. Thank you for reading. *bow*