1000 Themes - #681 - Axis Powers Hetalia - Russia x America
Title: Resistance is Futile
Rating: R
Warnings: Cursing, sex
Words: 469
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairings/Characters: Russia x America, set in Cold War time when is it not?
America cocked the gun, a lazy grin settled on his face.
"Now bend over so I can fuck your brains out."
Russia giggled. "Actually, I was thinking of something different, America."
Faster than America had thought any land whale could move, Russia grabbed America, knocked the gun from his hand, twisted his arm behind his back, and shoved him face-first into the mattress, his body forced at an awkward angle, with his ass pressed firm against Russia's crotch. The hand holding his head down pushed him farther into the cheap sheet, the even cheaper coil springs pressing against his cheek.
"Mm, this looks much better! See how we can work together sometimes, America?"
America grunted into the plush, squirmed for all his energy would let him, but the restrictions Russia had him under allowed no chance of escape. It was fuck or be fucked, and he knew then he was getting the latter. He didn't need Russia's hand, which had released his head and thus himself from nearly suffocating, to tell him that, even as it was beginning to undo his belt, his button, his zipper. All that was left were the garments themselves, and they quickly pooled around his ankles.
He shivered from the sudden wave of cold air. When the fuck did the room relocate itself to the Rockies? "Fucking hell, Russia! Get the fuck off me, you commie bastard!"
Russia tsk'd, his hand roaming jaggedly along the defined ridges of America's backside, down his thigh, and dipping into the crevasse of his ass with his thick, leather-suited fingers. "Ah, but you're perfect for this position! I don't think I could pull it off."
America's breath hitched once Russia began to prod curiously into his hole, the leather sticking uncomfortably against his skin and the tender muscles. "H-hey! This isn't a game, you fucker! If I had my gun, you'd--!"
"You were the one who started this game, remember?" Russia pointed out cheerily, removing his hand to put the glove tip between his teeth, yanking it off. "Much better! Now we won't have any problems, da?"
"Like hell we won't have problems! I have a problem right no--"
His protest was cut short by Russia's sudden, unexpected fondling of Florida. "Yes, I can see that, America! You're only a little hard, hm?"
If he could only use his arm... "Fuck off!" he yelled, bucking back in some attempt to wriggle himself free, but only succeeding in having his sensitive member squeezed. "Ow, fucking...!"
Russia giggled again. "How do capitalist pigs say it in your house, 'resistance is futile'?" he teased with an irritatingly uppity note in his tone. When he spoke next, it took on a turn that had America's stomach twisting in more knots than he ever imagined possible.
"I agree, but it's no fun if you stop! Then I can't watch you squirm and hear you beg for mercy!"
Rating: R
Warnings: Cursing, sex
Words: 469
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairings/Characters: Russia x America, set in Cold War time when is it not?
America cocked the gun, a lazy grin settled on his face.
"Now bend over so I can fuck your brains out."
Russia giggled. "Actually, I was thinking of something different, America."
Faster than America had thought any land whale could move, Russia grabbed America, knocked the gun from his hand, twisted his arm behind his back, and shoved him face-first into the mattress, his body forced at an awkward angle, with his ass pressed firm against Russia's crotch. The hand holding his head down pushed him farther into the cheap sheet, the even cheaper coil springs pressing against his cheek.
"Mm, this looks much better! See how we can work together sometimes, America?"
America grunted into the plush, squirmed for all his energy would let him, but the restrictions Russia had him under allowed no chance of escape. It was fuck or be fucked, and he knew then he was getting the latter. He didn't need Russia's hand, which had released his head and thus himself from nearly suffocating, to tell him that, even as it was beginning to undo his belt, his button, his zipper. All that was left were the garments themselves, and they quickly pooled around his ankles.
He shivered from the sudden wave of cold air. When the fuck did the room relocate itself to the Rockies? "Fucking hell, Russia! Get the fuck off me, you commie bastard!"
Russia tsk'd, his hand roaming jaggedly along the defined ridges of America's backside, down his thigh, and dipping into the crevasse of his ass with his thick, leather-suited fingers. "Ah, but you're perfect for this position! I don't think I could pull it off."
America's breath hitched once Russia began to prod curiously into his hole, the leather sticking uncomfortably against his skin and the tender muscles. "H-hey! This isn't a game, you fucker! If I had my gun, you'd--!"
"You were the one who started this game, remember?" Russia pointed out cheerily, removing his hand to put the glove tip between his teeth, yanking it off. "Much better! Now we won't have any problems, da?"
"Like hell we won't have problems! I have a problem right no--"
His protest was cut short by Russia's sudden, unexpected fondling of Florida. "Yes, I can see that, America! You're only a little hard, hm?"
If he could only use his arm... "Fuck off!" he yelled, bucking back in some attempt to wriggle himself free, but only succeeding in having his sensitive member squeezed. "Ow, fucking...!"
Russia giggled again. "How do capitalist pigs say it in your house, 'resistance is futile'?" he teased with an irritatingly uppity note in his tone. When he spoke next, it took on a turn that had America's stomach twisting in more knots than he ever imagined possible.
"I agree, but it's no fun if you stop! Then I can't watch you squirm and hear you beg for mercy!"