Re: [Russia/Canada] Worst places than Hell [2/5]
anonymous
April 21 2010, 08:43:34 UTC
He brought his hand to Russia’s face, where the hard bone of his jaw met the soft flesh of his ears. Russia unconsciously leaned to the touch, tilting his head slightly to allow further access. Canada could see the bruises around his neck, where the firm grasp of communism had took hold of him. He felt the sudden desire to kiss them; to kiss himCanada took his small glass from the table and raised it, his eyes never leaving Russia’s, “Long live the King
( ... )
Re: [Russia/Canada] Worst places than Hell [3/5]
anonymous
April 21 2010, 08:44:12 UTC
When he came, Canada felt all his muscles relaxing at once, even his knees gave in and he collapsed on top of him, smiling.
Their clothes would be a mess by the time they got up.
Canada didn’t care.
1923
Russia was too thin. Canada knew he should feel angry, because the Soviets were still exporting grains instead of feeding the people, but Russia was too thin. He looked at him and gave him a crooked smile, before turning to check the temperature of his samovar.
Canada wondered if the Soviets knew he had kept his samovar throughout the revolution, but decided it was better not to ask.
“Something you’d like to say, comrade?” Russia caught him off-guard, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Re: [Russia/Canada] Worst places than Hell [4/5]
anonymous
April 21 2010, 08:45:02 UTC
Canada nodded. England wouldn’t be pleased to know he hadn’t told Russia half of what he had instructed him to.
“Unless,” Russia started, and Canada lifted his gaze to meet his, one eyebrow raised questioningly, “Your visit isn’t entirely official.”
Canada blushed and smirked at the same time, his shoulders relaxing visibly. He set his cup and saucer beside Russia’s, and folded his hands on his lap. The trip was official, but being angry with Russia wasn’t the only reason he had to ask England to send him to Moscow. He stared at his hands for what seemed forever; this had to be the most awkwardly arousing situation he had ever put himself on.
Luckily for him, Russia didn’t need permission to take his hands from his lap and place them on his hips, straddling him gracefully for someone with so many off angles on his body.
Too light. His body used to be heavier. But Canada didn’t say anything. He kissed him, slow and gentle. He allowed Russia to press himself against him; to rub himself against him. He allowed Russia to undo his belt
( ... )
Re: [Russia/Canada] Worst places than Hell [5/5]
anonymous
April 21 2010, 08:53:34 UTC
In a way, this, too, is him taking what he needs and wants.
And this is Russia’s way of showing that he cares too.
1931
Canada stands there in front of him and Russia smiles.
“Congratulations, comrade.”
His voice is a little too dry; too distant. His smile is false and Canada doesn’t like it.
“Thank you,” Is all he has to say.
Other nations walk past them, and it’s not a surprise when they don’t acknowledge Canada, even though now he is, in fact, a country too. Russia does, but there’s a distance between them that hadn’t been there before.
He wants to pull Russia into his arms, bury his head on his chest and take him out for a drink, but the way Russia sets his shoulders tells him not to.
Those times are over, boy, is what it seems to say
( ... )
Re: [Russia/Canada] Worst places than Hell [5/5]
anonymous
April 22 2010, 02:16:01 UTC
Such a lovely fill! So bittersweet, and the way you wrote their interactions leaves my heart aching. I really liked this, and I`m sorry there isn't more to this comment.
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Their clothes would be a mess by the time they got up.
Canada didn’t care.
1923
Russia was too thin. Canada knew he should feel angry, because the Soviets were still exporting grains instead of feeding the people, but Russia was too thin. He looked at him and gave him a crooked smile, before turning to check the temperature of his samovar.
Canada wondered if the Soviets knew he had kept his samovar throughout the revolution, but decided it was better not to ask.
“Something you’d like to say, comrade?” Russia caught him off-guard, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Too light. That hand used to be heavier ( ... )
Reply
“Unless,” Russia started, and Canada lifted his gaze to meet his, one eyebrow raised questioningly, “Your visit isn’t entirely official.”
Canada blushed and smirked at the same time, his shoulders relaxing visibly. He set his cup and saucer beside Russia’s, and folded his hands on his lap. The trip was official, but being angry with Russia wasn’t the only reason he had to ask England to send him to Moscow. He stared at his hands for what seemed forever; this had to be the most awkwardly arousing situation he had ever put himself on.
Luckily for him, Russia didn’t need permission to take his hands from his lap and place them on his hips, straddling him gracefully for someone with so many off angles on his body.
Too light. His body used to be heavier. But Canada didn’t say anything. He kissed him, slow and gentle. He allowed Russia to press himself against him; to rub himself against him. He allowed Russia to undo his belt ( ... )
Reply
And this is Russia’s way of showing that he cares too.
1931
Canada stands there in front of him and Russia smiles.
“Congratulations, comrade.”
His voice is a little too dry; too distant. His smile is false and Canada doesn’t like it.
“Thank you,” Is all he has to say.
Other nations walk past them, and it’s not a surprise when they don’t acknowledge Canada, even though now he is, in fact, a country too. Russia does, but there’s a distance between them that hadn’t been there before.
He wants to pull Russia into his arms, bury his head on his chest and take him out for a drink, but the way Russia sets his shoulders tells him not to.
Those times are over, boy, is what it seems to say ( ... )
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Reply
My love for this pairing just grew so much. Such a lovely fill.
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