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Heavy foot steps bound closer; the lofty thudding closing the distance to Alfred’s turned back. Much too quick to react to.
The pain is searing: hot. The stupid and incessant prickling…radiating to every corner of his body as it slams into the nearest wall in the empty conference room. Pushing against the force was useless: he knew this, but his pride and frenzy couldn’t let this slide. Alfred braces himself and shoves his full body weight back into the perpetrator, placing his hands flush against the wall as leverage. Only a moment of solace passes before his face is pinned against the wall again, his glasses digging painfully into the side of his face. The large hand, nearly the size of his head, pressed with full force. Alfred grits his teeth in response, attempting to fight off the pressure, but the creak of his glasses says otherwise.
“You’ve fucked up, dog.”
It’s the only response from the larger figure. Fucked up how? Which part? Was it the staring during the meeting? The childish interrupting? The obvious instigating–the need to be a contrarian. Alfred smirked to himself. His punishment was imminent. Alfred, again, tried to push against the larger man, but his body remained pinned against the wall.
Ivan Braginsky. Much taller, much stronger. Physically, at least. Alfred would never admit to himself how much he enjoyed that aspect, but his mind had little time to wander. His train of thought was cut short. The large hand reeled back and struck the side of his head, open-palmed, knocking Alfred’s poor skull against the solid wall again. The younger nation’s vision swam with bright white spots, and the room soon began to spin. Another strike, and his vision grew fuzzy around the edges. With Alfred’s head pressed harder against the wall, he couldn’t help but sneer at the older man.
“That’s all you got?” Alfred feigned confidence, but he was melting under the touch. The aggression–the need to be put in his place, rather–oozed off of him like a pheromone. He didn’t need to say this as his words were met with a frustrated grunt. It wasn’t much, but enough to satisfy him. He enjoyed nothing more than pissing Ivan off. Nothing more than making him angry enough to use as much force as he saw fit.
The hand grabbed a fistful of Alfred’s dirty blond locks and yanked his head back, leaving Alfred gasping for air at the sudden intensity. His neck craned painfully while being held in place.
“You want this to happen to you. You want me to get aggressive with you, disgusting mutt.” The Russian sneered at the smaller man. Ivan spat at him, leaving a splattered trail of saliva against Alfred’s cheek. The slow run of the drool dribbled down his face, drying itself with the cool air that settled in between them. Alfred closed his eyes in bliss, yet that pressure left him despite it all.
“I am not going to give you that satisfaction. What have you done to deserve this? Nothing, if I can recall, aside from annoying me greatly.”
Ivan stepped back, releasing Alfred from his grip.
“You will beg for my forgiveness.”
There was a brief silence. Alfred broke it with a snicker, turning to face the other.
“No way…you’re serious?” He spoke with a smile playing on his face, “Hah…don’t tell me you’re chickening out from hitting me-”
“I won’t lay a finger on you until you beg.” Ivan interrupted.
Alfred shifted his weight to lean against the wall, eyeing Ivan. He weighed his options…on one hand, his ego was too large to give in to such a simple command with little provocation. The onset of headache wasn’t enough to justify any sort of pathetic pleading that might land him where he wanted. Yet, on the other hand, he wasn’t quite done with their little game just yet, and Ivan wasn’t the type to renege. Alfred always liked that about the other man. Ivan always did what he said he would, leaving very little room for confusion.
He looked at Alfred with a deadpan gaze: his facial expression was soft, but what hid behind his eyes was far from it.
Alfred couldn’t give this up.
“Fine, I’m sorry.” He responded nonchalantly.
“I don’t recall dogs standing on two legs.”
Alfred narrowed his eyes and forced a begrudging smile, squinting with fabricated innocence. He stood for a few seconds longer before lowering himself to his knees. He’d be a liar if he denied the twinge felt in his hair standing on edge, merely at the sight of Ivan towering over him. He looked up at the older country, begging with his sweet blue eyes. He could flip this back on the Russian, he thought. He was attempting to make himself as cute as possible, lest he admit it.
“All the way.” And Alfred obeyed, silently cursing himself for his submission. He lowered further onto his hands and knees, looking up once more.
What he didn’t expect to find was himself knocked to the floor, his sight spinning again as he tried to make sense of what happened. The boot that connected with his jaw wasn’t finished with him at all. Ivan kicked again at the disoriented country, his boot connecting with his chest next. Alfred rolled and wheezed in pain, bringing a smile to Ivan’s lips. The warmth from the pain spread to his crotch rather than the affected area. Kick after kick, he was subject to the onslaught of abuse. The tips of the shoelaces dug into his diaphragm; there was no time for Alfred to catch his breath. He let out a pathetic hiss in an attempt to gain control of the situation, but Ivan simply couldn't allow that. He stepped onto Alfred’s hand, crushing the digits underneath.
“You aren’t trying to fight back again, are you? Come on now, behave, dog.” Ivan fiddled with Alfred’s clothes, pressing his foot into the younger man’s stomach. The affectionate name finally reached Alfred as he coughed uncontrollably from the pain. The boot dug its heel deeper, and Alfred struggled to breathe. That powerful shoe migrated to his lungs, forcing a crushing two-hundred-eighty pounds to be funneled into the heel. That familiar burn found its way into Alfred’s chest; the feeling of a body panicking when the air in its lungs is insufficient. Alfred scrambled to claw at the boot, his instinct choosing to fight despite being at a massive disadvantage. His blurred vision caught a glimpse of the Russian’s face. Those upturned eyes, violet and violent, leered at him with a thin smile.
“Like a cornered animal, biting and scratching for a way out.” The voice echoed in Alfred’s head as the stinging turned to fire that clawed up into his throat, “I should break your rib cage, cave your chest in…hm, maybe collapse a lung. Your wheezing sounds better than your grating voice.”
The fire spread to Alfred’s face as it grew tight and warm. He must have been turning a multitude of shades watching Ivan’s eyes squint a bit in pleasure after searching his face. The foot retreated, and Alfred hacked in response, rolling over to his side to shield his body from any oncoming attacks. His breath felt hot and ragged, trembling as they entered his bruised chest. His mouth hung open, slightly drooling from his panting. He was loosely aware of Ivan’s shuffling but wasn’t attentive until a large hand painfully yanked him upright by his hair. He made the beginnings of a noise of protest, which proved to be a crucial mistake as his mouth was suddenly filled with stiff skin. The smaller nation’s jaw clicked painfully with the sudden intrusion, gagging in surprise. Ivan quickly closed the distance between them, straddling Alfred and pressing himself further into his mouth. The Russian intended to enjoy Alfred’s bodily instincts in their purest form: off-guard, afraid, and panicked. The tug of the throat flexed around the member, who gave little time to adjust to its girth. Ivan puppeted the younger man’s head to bob up and down obscenely; the lewd wetness of Alfred’s weak suction and gagging sparked a primal heat.
Still spinning, Alfred used his little strength to try to adjust to Ivan’s dick. He was in a critical position, yet an aching tent pushed at the fly of his slacks. The lines of consent were blurred; if Alfred did not want this, then Ivan would simply make him like it, point-blank. Enjoy it or suffer was the only option, and using teeth earned a pummeling to the face. His nose scrunched as Ivan jammed himself repeatedly into the back of his throat. Tears filled the corners of his eyes involuntarily, his throat attempted to close to cough, but the member obstructed, causing Alfred to sputter and choke. He could tell that the larger man relished in his throat spasming, and the bobbing slowed to a crawling pace. The tip of the member rocked slowly against his uvula. A loud, abrupt gag erupted from him, and his eyes flew to Ivan’s face for any sort of reaction. The man was silent, but a faint pink dusted his cheeks while his eyes took on a determined look. The second hand came under Alfred’s chin while the other linked itself tighter into his hair; Ivan hooked his leg over Alfred’s shoulder to bring the American level against his hips, forcing himself down the tight passage.
“Блять-¹,” Ivan swore under his breath, ignoring the feeling of the smaller nation writhing and pushing against him.
Alfred’s stomach churned violently as his mouth filled with saliva. Before he could control it, his stomach contents flooded up his throat and forced themselves out; the warm, foamy liquid spilled out of his mouth and nose over Ivan’s dick. Ivan stalled removing his member from the orifice, giving a few extra bobs to force the sour taste of vomit back into it. He then reeled back, letting out a disgusted snort that doubled as one of satisfaction. Alfred coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breaking the thin strand of saliva that connected him with the pulsating cock before his eyes. It was red and angry at the tip, not pleased by the interruption.
“Oops.”
The American man shot a look at Ivan, who looked down at him with squinted eyes. They were bright, teeming with sadistic thoughts, for sure. The vomit left a large dark stain on the crotch of Ivan’s dark grey slacks, barely pulled down for convenience. Alfred thought it served him right for being eager, but it was a poor attempt to reclaim a victory after being humiliated horribly. His mouth tasted sour and salty, the culprit of the latter twitching slightly at the cool air, spilling pre-cum in clear need.
“This hole is soiled. You will make up for it.”
The larger nation knelt and, in seconds, was undoing the belt that held up the American’s pants. Alfred’s eyes went wide and reached to intercept the hands, yet Ivan moved his weight to kneel on Alfred’s stomach to pin him down. One large hand swiftly grabbed both his wrists and pinned them out of the way, while the other yanked his pants to his thighs. Alfred’s cock sprang free from its confines, hard and leaking from the abuse he’d endured thus far. Ivan glanced back at Alfred as he groped him aggressively, gripping him with force. The young man writhed in both pain and pleasure, trying to squeeze his thighs together to stop Ivan from exposing him further.
“W-Wait, wait, wait..” Alfred pleaded with a hoarse voice, wincing in pain as the knee dug deeper into his abdomen. “Let’s make a deal. Listen-”
Ivan continued yanking the pants down, the seams snapping at the force. He pulled them away and discarded them carelessly.
“I’m sorry, okay? I said sorry, now-”
“We are well past apologies, Jones.”
Alfred’s blood ran cold, but his member throbbed hotter. He couldn’t fight his underwear being ripped away in the same manner as his pants; he was spent, in pain, and immobile, but the worst was yet to come.
“Don’t..I can’t..”
Ivan flipped the man under him onto his stomach, ignoring any pleas that fell from Alfred’s bruised lips. The Russian rolled himself on top, pinning the weakened American under him. He intended to nudge Alfred’s thighs apart lazily, but the man under him pressed his thighs together with the little strength he had left. This was, again, futile. Alfred teetered between being stricken with genuine fear and giving Ivan a hard time. Regardless, Ivan was more than strong enough to rip Alfred’s thighs apart and take what he believed he deserved. There was no way out of the week-long soreness that Alfred would have to endure afterwards. So entranced by his train of thought, Alfred briefly forgot Ivan’s presence until a pit suddenly set in his stomach: Ivan was yet to move at all. Alfred waited for a spell, but the Russian still did not move. Did his act of defiance not affect the man at all?
“Open.”
Alfred nearly flinched at the inflection: firm, powerful, commanding; another critical moment. Ivan did not want to inconvenience himself any further. If the naive nation were any dumber, he could continue to deny Ivan and run the risk of being beaten to death and used, and as compelling as that was, if he was going to be sore, he might as well enjoy a bit of it. In a split second, Alfred pushed his thighs apart and averted his eyes.
“Good boy, nice and obedient like the dumb dog you are.”
Alfred’s cock jumped at the praise. Ivan’s eyes flicked down, then up to his face; a cruel smile spreading into a toothy grin. Ivan brought his hand up and spat on it, intentionally bringing it near Alfred’s face to allow it to spatter. He used this hand to slick his member, not nearly enough for the onslaught, but it would have to do. Thankfully, the upchuck from before made up for it. Alfred closed his eyes to hone in on the distant squelch of Ivan’s hand on his dick, his spine tingling in anticipation.
“Too bad you struggle to listen otherwise. Let’s fix that.”
In a swift move, the Russian shoved forward, ramming himself into the hole. Alfred let out a struggling cry, half mixed with a moan, and clenched around the member immediately. No amount of tightness would be able to stop the feral beast from unveiling itself within Ivan. He continued to rock forward at a relentless pace, sliding himself as deep as the unprepared hole would allow him. The sting and burn of the invasion forced Alfred to chew his lip for something to mitigate the pain. His hips spread further to attempt to accommodate the girth. It wasn’t enough. Alfred yelped over the slapping of skin; the deeper Ivan shoved himself, the more painful the intrusion became. It burned in a way that made his dick ache, dribbling needily as it pressed against the cool floor. His voice peaked and strained in contrast to Ivan’s labored breathing through his nose. Quiet, but hearing proof of his enjoyment, even if small, was enough to melt Alfred. The pounding made a mess of the American’s brain; not a single word he spoke was able to be completed before being interrupted with a moan. The large man thrusted at an unyielding pace, using the opportunity to yank Alfred’s hair as a means of fucking into him. Ivan then slowed himself to a stop, finding himself at a point of resistance. Just three-quarters of the way in, he readjusted Alfred’s hips to arch his back. This provided a better angle for them both as Ivan sat up to readjust his grip on Alfred’s hair, craning his neck again. This leverage, paired with the lone hand on his hip, made the American well aware that Ivan’s positioning was purposeful.
“Haa…wa..wait..I ca- I can’t..” Alfred huffed out weakly, grunting as he was shifted around.
“You will.”
Ivan leaned to spit a few times on his dick: a small act of mercy in the midst of it all. It did not go unnoticed by the American, but he could only hold that thought for a small minute before the large member shoved itself back into him. Ivan approached the resistance again, Alfred clenching him again in surprise. His force slowed slightly, but it wasn’t enough to stop the Russian from shoving himself fully into the tight passage.
Stars swam in Alfred’s vision as he felt himself trying to recover from taking Ivan in. Full, stretched, and near ruin. Ivan adjusted his hips flat against Alfred’s; his cock pulsating in the trembling hole. Alfred whined hoarsely. Something in between the word ‘stop’ and a cry of pain. Possible pleasure, but the logistics of that feeling meant nothing in a blank brain. All that Alfred could understand was that his ass hurt, and his dick was painfully hard. While Ivan drew his hips back agonizingly slowly, the younger man was quickly rewarded by being pounded into again. Ivan held the man beneath him completely still, using him like a warm, breathing fleshlight. One who reacted to his aggression by writhing and twitching, clenching him as he saw fit. Alfred was beyond putting up a fight. The feeling of being taken and used was exhilarating; his only use was Ivan’s pleasure. He attempted to snake a hand to touch his neglected member, only able to fondle himself before a smack snapped against his backside. Alfred yelped in pain from the initial impact and whimpered at the after-sting.
“Who permitted you to touch yourself?”
“I n-need..I need..”
“Need what, Пëc²?”
The pounding continued. Alfred’s hand dropped in defeat.
“Fuck…I- need…God, touch it…please…”
Ivan’s eyes lit up at the unprovoked supplication. The pounding continued, unwavering, and yet Ivan found himself feeling merciful once more. He pressed his chest against Alfred’s back, reaching under the man to take hold of him. The thinnest stream of pre-cum overflowing from Alfred’s dick served a purpose in slicking the smaller member. Ivan’s thumb found its way over the slit, playing briefly with the sticky fluid before roughly pressing his thumb into the head. Alfred’s breath picked up as Ivan rubbed circles on the sensitive opening, slowly enticing more of the slickness to cover the member. Alfred was too pent up at this point; there was no way he would ever hold on. The dual stimulation of Ivan tugging on his cock while simultaneously pounding into him drove Alfred to the edge. Rough fingers found a particularly juicy vein on the underside of the American’s dick, pressing on it while stroking. Alfred’s stomach tightened and trembled uncontrollably in response. He was done for.
“Ah- fuck! Iva-..!”
Ivan could make out a semblance of his name being moaned out as the body beneath him jerked and clenched him uncontrollably. Alfred shot his mess on the floor beneath him, catching stray ropes on his stomach as Ivan stroked upwards. Luckily, the hand on the shorter man’s hip kept him from completely crumbling to the ground. The arch in Alfred’s back was simply too good a position for Ivan to allow him to. Alfred’s walls spasmed around Ivan inside, and the quiet man parted his lips to let out a shaky sigh. The Russian rocked his hips deep into Alfred to help him ride out his orgasm. The large hand didn’t stop fondling Alfred even after he came, milking him for every last drop of seed he could spill. Alfred’s hips jerked at this, his body entering sensitive territory. Ivan continued the stroking to force Alfred’s body to respond. The tugging grew quicker as Alfred attempted to turn his hips away from Ivan to get away from the sensation. He loved it so much, but, hell, it was overstimulating. He began to let out struggling grunts and moans as his words failed him. Ivan toyed with the half-hard member, rubbing aggressively again. Alfred started to ‘panic’ and turned his hips away, finally convincing Ivan to let go with a dark chuckle. All the movement served only to please Ivan in the end; the squirming and squeezing as a way of jerking off Ivan with minimal movement. Alfred’s eyes grew fuzzy and disoriented as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel the man on him wasting no time to move back into a steady pace, the member feeling slick with a new round of spit.
Ivan couldn't help his hips’ harsh thud against Alfred’s plush thighs, the hole completely relaxed for him now. The younger nation was spent. Ivan slid in and out with a bit more ease than before, slamming into the tightness. The sight of the pliant body breathing shallowly made the large man buzz with arousal. He clutched Alfred as tight as he could and drilled his hips into the younger man, eliciting a slew of groans in protest. This was it: Alfred completely at Ivan’s mercy. The poor hole tensed much too weakly to stop the force, but it did successfully furrow Ivan’s brows in ecstasy. For the first time in their encounter, Alfred could hear the man above. He was breathing hard, letting off muted grunts while tensing up over Alfred. A hand slithered up to the American’s throat and squeezed tightly on the sides of it, stifling the American’s already labored breathing.
“So loose…so open, your body betrays you..ha, it needs me,” Ivan mumbled breathlessly into Alfred’s ear. His hot breath tickled the shell, sending shivers down Alfred’s spine. The dizzy feeling returned to the smaller man from the choking, his hands flying to grip the larger one, feebly trying to pry it off.
“Feeling short of breath? Huh? Will you pass out on me, mutt? You know..I’ll use you anyway.” By the sound of Ivan’s voice, there was no way he could wait around long enough to do so. He was close, his voice strained and interrupted by heavy panting.
Ivan could only piston his hips for just a few more seconds before sinking his teeth into Alfred’s shoulder, exhaling sharply as he came inside. Like an animal pinning its mate, he pumped himself slowly as the hole contracted around him. Alfred’s insides spasmed and tightened at the sudden pain; it was exactly what Ivan wanted. His vision went black briefly; the hand let free of his throat so he could breathe again. The air burned in his lungs as his insides welcomed the hot liquid shooting into him. Ivan's powerful bite surely broke skin, and if it didn’t, then the bruise would certainly be gnarly. The jaws released themselves shortly after the hand, and Ivan removed his body from on top of the American. The large man stood and towered over him, observing his work in its totality. Alfred lay leaking, trembling; his body sore both inside and outside. His bottom half was exposed, his clothes strewn about lazily, and the slap on his behind from earlier was turning into a lovely shade of reds, yellows, and purples. Alfred weakly lifted his head, peering over his shoulder to glare at Ivan. Ivan’s chest rose and fell quickly, still trying to catch his breath in the midst of tucking himself back in his pants.
Upon viewing the mess on himself, he locked eyes with Alfred, an innocent smile playing on his face.
“You are disgusting. Get up.”
Alfred wheezed as he rolled onto his side and sat up slowly, the soreness setting in from being hit earlier. He winced as he moved to sit on his ass. That was presumed to be the reaction for the next few days. He looked up at the man towering over him, then around the room they were in. His eyes panned down to look at his mess on the floor, mixing with the one leaking out of him. He felt a slight rush at the sight of it…this was cleaner than their usual antics, but this one was a bit hard to hide in a public setting. Ivan offered his hand, causing the other man to squint suspiciously at him. Ivan repeated the motion, this time gaining Alfred’s trust to help him up.
“How’d you know this room would be empty?” Alfred asked, also using the wall for support as he stood; he reached into his jacket pocket to grab a handkerchief to clean himself to the best of his ability.
“I didn’t,” Ivan replied cheekily, watching the American stumble like a doe.
Alfred turned slowly to stare intently at Ivan, the reality of their luck sinking in.
“There’s something wrong with you.” Alfred deadpanned.
The Russian could only smile in response.
“And if someone walked in on us, you would complain? I thought you liked being watched.” Ivan’s words were a double entendre, while Alfred did consider himself an exhibitionist, the idea of being watched by Ivan played too well into his paranoia. He looked Ivan over as the other man held him up, the grip not uncomfortable, but too tight—that same smile, those uncanny, upturned eyes.
“If someone walked in, I’d rather them see me on top of you.” Alfred retorted with a glare that came off more as a pout. Ivan’s eyes softened; it was akin to looking at a small prey animal. Alfred watched the reaction but said nothing; he wanted to relish in the loving gaze for just a second. After that onslaught, he deserved it, he thought. A hand reached across his abandonment to hold him, but the smaller man winced in pain. A thumb came over and gently rubbed against the bruised skin through his button-up, the fabric and friction aching just a bit, but it was so tender that Alfred couldn't care. “You did a number on me…ha.”
“Poor little собака³,” Ivan replied in a sing-song tone, mocking.
The younger nation leaned into the touch, melting just slightly into it. His eyes fell closed, and his brows softened a bit; Ivan devoured this look of submission. The beast inside was pleased and quelled, for now. Ivan leaned in and pressed his lips to the American’s, earning a small squeak of surprise in response. Alfred returned the gesture briefly, leaning into the lips before they were quickly torn away. He wanted to whine like an upset dog, but seeing Ivan’s smug, shit-eating grin made him quickly change his mind. The man was insufferable and a tease as always.
Alfred’s stomach flipped a bit in disgust…and a secret feeling of something more. Subconsciously, he let his head fall limp against the Russian’s chest with a deep exhale. Any thoughts of shame and embarrassment faded in that moment, and just in that second, Alfred was content.