Work Text:
It was a special day on Christmas Eve and America was determined to throw the most awesome Christmas party ever.
A few days earlier he had sent invitations to all of the Allies and Axis members making sure every single one was delivered. He had written "BRING LOTS OF FOOD!!!" in big letters at the bottom of each invitation. Now all he could do was hope everyone showed up.
His house was covered in colorful Christmas decorations. Strings of lights hung from the walls, a large Christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room, and stockings had been hung wherever he could find space. Christmas music played softly from a nearby speaker as America rushed around making sure everything was perfect.
"Man this party is gonna be amazing!" America said to himself as he adjusted a strand of lights. "Everyone's gonna have so much fun."
Just as he finished hanging the last decoration, the doorbell rang.
America grinned.
"Coming!" he shouted.
After giving the room one final look of approval, he hurried over to the front door and pulled it open.
Standing outside were Germany, Italy, and Japan.
"What is up dudes?" America greeted cheerfully.
I
taly immediately beamed.
"Thank you for inviting us America!" he said. "I brought lots of pasta and panettone!"
He held up several containers proudly.
"Awesome!" America replied. "You can never have too much food at a party."
Germany sighed and gave Italy a brief look before speaking.
"Yes, thank you for the invitation." Germany said politely. "I brought several cases of beer for everyone to enjoy."
America's eyes lit up.
"Nice! That's gonna be a hit."
Germany then glanced toward Japan.
"And Japan brought–”
"Sake." Japan finished calmly. "I brought sake."
"Right." Germany said with a nod. "Thank you again for inviting us."
America flashed all three of them a warm smile.
"No problem guys. I'm glad you could make it. Come on in!"
The three entered the house immediately taking notice of the decorations.
Italy's eyes sparkled.
"Wow! It looks beautiful!"
"The decorations are impressive." Japan agreed.
Germany nodded approvingly. "You clearly put a great deal of effort into this."
America rubbed the back of his neck and laughed.
"Yeah, well if I'm throwing a Christmas party I've gotta go all out."
Italy walked over to the Christmas tree admiring the ornaments.
"Ve~! This tree is huge!"
"Told you." America said proudly. "Only the best for my Christmas party."
As the Axis trio settled in and placed their food and drinks on the dining table, the doorbell rang once again.
America grinned even wider.
"Looks like more guests are here!"
Without wasting another second he hurried toward the front door excited to see who had arrived next.
As he opened the front door he greeted everyone and invited them in.
"Hey guys! Glad you could make it!" he said with a grin.
"Hello America. It's nice to see you." Russia replied pleasantly.
As usual, he wore the same mysterious smile that always made everyone a little uneasy, even when he was being perfectly friendly.
America laughed nervously.
"Russia, dude... uh, what's up?" he asked before quickly stepping aside. "Anyway, come on in everybody!"
The group entered the house, bringing a rush of cold winter air with them. Almost immediately England and France started arguing.
"Oh for the love of god must you wear that ridiculous outfit everywhere?" England scoffed.
France looked offended.
"Ridiculous? Mon ami, this is fashion. Not everyone can appreciate elegance."
"More like vanity."
"At least I have style."
As the two continued bickering, China let out an exasperated sigh.
"You two have been arguing since we arrived." he complained. "It's Christmas Eve! We're supposed to be having fun."
He then turned toward America, holding up several containers.
"Anyway, I brought some Chinese tasty treats for everyone!"
America's eyes lit up instantly.
"China, dude, those look awesome!"
China smiled proudly.
"Thank you. They're homemade."
"Even better!" America replied. "You guys seriously brought the best food."
Before long, everyone had settled into the house. The living room buzzed with conversation and laughter as Christmas music played softly in the background. The dining table was quickly filling with food from every corner of the world.
I
taly eagerly began passing around slices of panettone.
"Come on everyone! Try some!" he said cheerfully. "I promise it's delicious! It's sweet, buttery, and perfect for Christmas!"
America grabbed a slice without hesitation.
"Dude say less."
He took a large bite.
A few seconds later his eyes widened.
"DUDE!"
Everyone looked over.
"This is so freaking good!"
Italy beamed.
"Really?"
"Yeah! This is amazing!"
"I'm glad you like it!" Italy said happily. "I made it myself."
"No way."
"Yep!"
America immediately grabbed another piece.
"Dude, you've gotta make more of this for me sometime."
Italy laughed.
"Ve~! I'd be happy to!"
Nearby, Germany nodded approvingly as he sampled a piece himself.
"It is very good."
Japan quietly agreed.
"The texture is excellent."
Italy looked as though he had just won an award.
The party carried on for several more hours filled with dancing, karaoke, board games, the sharing of food, culture, and stories. As the evening went on, France managed to get his hands on a glass of wine and was already searching for someone to share it with.
Unfortunately for England, France decided he was the perfect target.
France casually approached him while swirling his drink.
"England, mon ami." he said smoothly. "why don't you try some of this wine? It is exquisite."
England immediately frowned.
"No."
France blinked.
"No?"
"No."
"But you haven't even tasted it."
"And I don't intend to."
France placed a hand over his heart dramatically.
"You wound me."
"You'll survive."
"I come here offering friendship and culture and this is how you treat me?"
"I know you. You're trying to show off."
France gasped.
"I am not showing off!"
"You absolutely are."
France looked genuinely offended.
"I am merely sharing something wonderful."
"You're showing off."
France pointed accusingly.
"See? This is why nobody can have a civilized conversation with you."
Before England could respond, China stepped between them with an annoyed expression.
"You two are doing it again."
"We are not." France argued.
"You are."
"We're having a discussion."
"A loud discussion."
"An elegant discussion."
China rubbed his temples.
America looked over from across the room.
"Guys, can we not start world war three at my Christmas party?"
At that moment, Russia casually joined the conversation.
"Da. You two should stop fighting."
Everyone turned toward him.
Russia's smile never changed.
"If you keep arguing, Russia might become unhappy."
The room fell silent for a moment.
"...Right." England said carefully.
Russia then looked at France's wine.
"Though I would try your wine, France."
France relaxed.
"Oh? Really?"
"Yes."
Russia tilted his head.
"Although I prefer vodka."
"Naturally." Germany muttered.
Russia suddenly brightened.
"Actually, why don't we have a little drinking competition?"
The entire room froze.
France laughed nervously.
"Ahahaha... Russia, my friend, perhaps we should simply enjoy the party."
Russia continued smiling.
"What about the competition?"
France suddenly seemed much less confident.
"Well..."
Russia took a step closer.
"It could be fun."
France glanced around the room as if searching for an escape route.
Nobody offered one.
Finally, he straightened his posture.
“Alright then, I challenge you to a drinking competition! Surely I will win though…”
Russia simply smiled.
"Be careful with what you say, France."
His voice remained perfectly calm.
"I would not become too confident if I were you."
France and Russia then made their way toward the dining table, where the growing collection of alcoholic beverages had become something of an attraction throughout the evening. Bottles of wine, beer, sake, vodka, and various holiday drinks covered nearly every available inch of space.
France carefully selected a bottle of wine and held it up with a confident smile.
"Ah, now this is a proper drink." he declared proudly. "Refined, elegant, sophisticated."
Russia reached for a large bottle of vodka without hesitation.
"Da." he replied. "But vodka is still better."
France laughed lightly.
"We shall see about that, mon ami."
The exchange immediately caught the attention of everyone nearby.
America looked over from the couch. "Wait, are you guys actually doing this?"
"It would appear so." Japan said quietly.
Germany, already sensing where this was headed, walked over with a concerned expression.
"Are you two absolutely certain you wish to do this?" he asked. "Neither of you appears willing to back down, and if this continues long enough, both of you could become extremely intoxicated."
"We will be fine." France assured him with a dismissive wave.
"Da. Russia has plenty of experience. Me and vodka are old friends." Russia added.
Germany looked less reassured than before.
Within moments the competition had officially begun.
At first everything seemed relatively normal.
France poured himself a glass of wine and drank it with practiced elegance taking his time to appreciate the flavor.
Russia simply picked up a shot glass, filled it with vodka, and swallowed it in one smooth motion.
Then another.
And another.
Several minutes later, a small crowd had gathered around the table.
Italy was watching with wide eyes.
"Ve~! They're drinking really fast!"
China folded his arms.
"This seems like a terrible idea."
America nodded.
"Yeah… Still kinda wanna see how it ends though."
England sighed heavily.
"Of course you do."
The competition continued.
France remained surprisingly composed for a while. He continued talking between drinks, occasionally giving lengthy speeches about culture, romance, art, and the importance of properly appreciating wine.
Nobody was entirely sure what half of those speeches were about.
Russia, meanwhile, grew quieter. At first. Then much much stranger.
After several more drinks, Russia had somehow begun complimenting everyone in the room.
"Germany works very hard."
Germany blinked.
"...Thank you?"
"China makes very good food."
China looked suspicious.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Da."
Germany immediately stepped in.
"Perhaps we should slow down."
"No slowing down." Russia replied cheerfully.
Meanwhile, France had become dramatically emotional.
At one point he threw an arm around England's shoulders.
"England." he announced loudly. "You have beautiful eyes."
England froze.
"And I never tell you that enough."
England looked completely horrified.
"Get off of me."
"You deserve compliments."
"France."
"You work so hard."
"France."
"You care about everyone."
"God ur such a frog…"
"You are like a grumpy little Christmas angel."
England shoved him away.
"America, make him stop talking."
America was laughing too hard to help.
As the night continued, both competitors became increasingly impossible to manage.
France alternated between dramatically singing Christmas songs and attempting to give everyone heartfelt life advice.
Russia had somehow ended up sitting on the floor while calmly explaining why everyone in the room was his friend.
By this point nobody could remember how many drinks either nation had consumed.
Empty bottles and glasses covered a large section of the table.
Germany had given up trying to stop them nearly twenty minutes earlier.
Neither France nor Russia technically admitted defeat. Neither seemed capable of remembering the original goal of the competition.
"It is impossible to tell who won." Japan observed.
"I don't think they know anymore either." China replied.
Sure enough, when America finally asked who was winning, both competitors gave completely different answers.
"I am clearly winning." France insisted.
"No, Russia is winning."
At that point everyone agreed the contest was over.
The rest of the evening continued in much the same fashion. Christmas music played, desserts were shared, and conversations carried on late into the night. Even with France and Russia's drunken antics,
the party remained surprisingly enjoyable.
Eventually, however, the hour grew late.
One by one, the guests began gathering their belongings and preparing to leave.
Germany rounded up Italy, who had fallen asleep on the couch while clutching a plate of cookies.
Japan politely thanked America for hosting before heading out with the others.
China helped collect empty dishes from around the room.
Meanwhile, England found himself dealing with a very drunken France.
"England.." France mumbled while leaning heavily against him. "You are a wonderful friend."
"I know."
"And very handsome."
"You're drunk."
"And brave."
"Still drunk."
"And your eyebrows are–”
"Finish that sentence and I'm leaving you here."
France immediately fell silent.
"Good choice."
With a long suffering sigh, England adjusted France's arm around his shoulders and began guiding him toward the door.
Across the room, Russia was in no condition to travel either.
America watched as Russia attempted to stand only to immediately sit back down on the floor.
"...Yeah, dude, you're not going anywhere tonight."
Russia looked up.
"America is very kind."
"I know."
"You are a good friend."
"Thanks."
After a brief discussion, it was decided that Russia would simply stay the night rather than attempt the trip home.
America led him toward the guest room while the remaining guests said their goodbyes.
Before long, the house had finally grown quiet.
The Christmas party had been chaotic, loud, slightly ridiculous, and far more eventful than anyone had expected.
But despite everything, everyone had enjoyed themselves.
But it seemed that one guest wasn’t quite satisfied with the night’s festivities. While the others had departed, Russia’s antics had shifted from loud and cheerful to something far more focused and heavy.
As America leaned over him, instructing him to call out if he needed anything while he went to fetch some water, Russia’s hand shot out, gripping America’s wrist and pulling him closer with surprising strength.
“You’re a pretty good friend America,” Russia murmured, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed rumble that vibrated in the small space between them. “You make Russia very happy sometimes.”
America felt a strange flutter in his chest and offered a small slightly awkward smile. “Thanks dude... that actually means a lot. But seriously, you’re wasted. You should really be going to bed–”
Before America could finish his sentence, he was yanked forward, his chest colliding with Russia’s. The sudden proximity left America breathless, the scent of expensive vodka and cold winter air clinging to the larger nation.
“America,” Russia whispered, his gaze hazy, locking onto America’s eyes. “Maybe you should sleep with me tonight. I am always so lonely back home... the winters are so long and quiet. I do not want to be lonely tonight either. So why don't you stay with Russia?”
America froze, his mind racing to process the request. A deep hot blush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks a vivid red. He tried to laugh it off though it sounded more like a nervous breath.
“You’re.. you’re just saying that because you’re drunk man. I’m gonna get you some water, and you’re gonna get some sleep, and we’ll forget this happened in the morning.”
Russia didn’t let go. Instead he shifted his expression his eyes softening into a look of profound exaggerated sadness that tugged at America’s heartstrings. “You will make Russia very unhappy, America. Just one night? Together? Please?”
America bit his lip, looking at the vulnerability in Russia's expression. He knew he was probably being played by a drunkard but there was something about the request that he didn't want to deny.
“Fine.” America sighed, giving in. “Just give me a minute to get ready for bed and then I'll come back okay? Just wait right here. Don't move.”
As America walked out of the room, he could hear Russia mumbling something low and satisfied to himself. Returning to his own room, America quickly stripped down sliding into a pair of loose pajama pants. He opted against a shirt because he always was too hot when he slept even with a fan blasting on high leaving his torso bare and his skin cool against the air.
He paused to grab a spare set of pajamas for Russia, then headed into the kitchen to fill a glass with ice cold water. His heart was drumming a steady expectant beat against his ribs as he walked back toward the guest bedroom.
When he entered, he found Russia exactly where he had left him, though he looked even more sluggish, sprawled across the bed.
“What took so long, America? You’ve kept me waiting.” Russia complained softly, his voice trailing off as he immediately reached out, clinging to America’s waist the moment he was within reach.
America set the water down on the nightstand, his skin tingling where Russia touched him. He felt incredibly flushed as Russia pressed his body firmly against his, the contrast of their heat making
America’s breath hitch.
“I wasn't gone that long! It was like five minutes dude.” America stammered, though he didn't pull away.
“Well... it felt long.” Russia murmured. His eyes drifted downward, scanning the expanse of America’s bare chest and the lean muscle of his torso. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. “You have a very nice body, America. It is… very attractive.”
America’s eyes widened as he felt Russia’s large, warm hands begin to wander, sliding upward from his waist to splay across his chest. The touch was deliberate and heavy, sending a jolt of electricity straight down America's spine.
“Woah… dude calm down...” America whispered, though his voice lacked any real argument. He wasn't pushing him away in fact he found himself leaning into the touch.
Russia only pressed closer, his breath hot against America’s neck. “You are so warm... I could stay close to you forever, you know that?”
The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air becoming thick with a tension that had nothing to do with the holiday and everything to do with the two of them. America really looked at him and saw the hunger behind the drunken haze. He felt a surge of confidence, his own desire finally overriding his hesitation.
“Really? You think so, Russia?”
With a sudden, decisive movement, America gripped Russia’s shoulders and pushed him back onto the mattress, pinning him down. The look of surprise on Russia's face quickly melted into a look of sheer anticipation.
America stared down at him, his heart hammering against his ribs. The sight of Russia, usually so composed and intimidating looking up at him with hooded, wanting eyes was an aphrodisiac.
"You talk a lot for someone who can barely stand, Russia." America breathed, his voice dropping. He didn't let go of Russia's shoulders, instead sliding his hands down to grip the edges of Russia's shirt bunching the fabric in his fists.
Russia let out a low guttural moan, arching his back instinctively to press himself upward against America. "Then stop talking... and do something about it."
The invitation was all America needed. He crashed his lips against Russia's in a kiss that was less about affection and more about hunger. It was messy and desperate, tasting of vodka and heat. Russia’s hands flew to America's bare waist, his fingers digging into the skin, pulling him down until there wasn't a single inch of space left between them.
America groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating through both of their chests. He tilted his head, deepening the angle, and pushed his tongue past Russia’s lips.
Russia welcomed him instantly, his own tongue sliding forward to meet America's in a slick rhythmic dance. their tongues swirling together with frantic energy. Labored breaths they were both fighting to take.
America felt a surge of heat rush through him as Russia’s tongue swept across the roof of his mouth, a bold and demanding move that turned him on. He responded by sucking on Russia's lower lip, pulling it between his teeth with just enough pressure to draw out a sharp, needy gasp from the larger nation.
Russia’s grip on America’s waist tightened, his nails scratching slightly against the skin of his hips, urging him closer if that was even possible. He tasted of winter and strong spirits, but beneath that was something uniquely him that America found himself craving more and more.
As their tongues continued to clash and slide against one another, America moved his hand from Russia's shirt, sliding it up to cup the back of Russia's neck. He tangled his fingers in the hair there, pulling Russia’s head back slightly to expose the pale line of his throat.
He didn't stop the kiss but he slowed the pace, letting their tongues linger in a slow, wet glide that felt agonizingly sensual. Every slide of their tongues felt like a spark hitting gunpowder, building a fire in America's gut that was becoming impossible to ignore.
Russia let out a muffled whine into America's mouth, his tongue darting out to taste America’s lip one last time before he pulled back. Their lips remained brushed together, their breath hot and mingled, as a thin string of saliva connected them for a fleeting second.
"America..." Russia whispered, his voice wrecked and breathless, his eyes dark with a desperation that mirrored America's own. "More. I want more."
America looked down at him, his eyes filled with desire that made Russia shiver. “More, you say?” he murmured.
Without breaking eye contact America began to work on the buttons of Russia's shirt. His fingers were slightly unsteady from the adrenaline but he managed to pop them open one by one moving fabric back to reveal Russia's pale broad chest. The cool air of the room hit Russia's skin, but the heat radiating from America’s bare body was more than enough to keep him warm.
America didn't waste a second. He leaned back in, his lips finding the soft line of Russia's jaw. He started with slow teasing licks tasting the salt of Russia's skin before transitioning into deep suckles. He
worked his way down the column of Russia's neck, his breath hot and heavy against the skin.
As he reached a sensitive spot just below the ear, America nipped at the flesh testing the waters. Russia let out a soft trembling whine, his head lolling back into the pillow. Couraged by the sound, America suddenly shifted from a nip to a full firm bite, sucking the skin deep into his mouth to leave a dark bruising mark.
A guttural moan tore from the back of Russia's throat, his back arching off the bed in a sudden surge of pleasure. The sound was like music to America’s ears, a confession of complete surrender. He continued to mark Russia's neck, claiming him with every bite and kiss, marking the pale skin with reds and purples.
While his mouth was occupied America’s hands began to wander. His fingers trailed down from Russia's shoulders, gliding over the firm muscle of his chest until he found his target. America flicked and then firmly squeezed Russia's nipples.
The reaction was immediate. Russia let out a sharp strangled whimper, his entire body jolting beneath America. America hadn't realized just how sensitive Russia was in that spot, but the way the larger nation gasped and trembled told him everything he needed to know. the way Russia was practically pleading for more through his shattered breaths sent a wave of heat crashing through America.
He knew exactly what to do next.
America shifted his weight, sliding down Russia's body until his face was inches away from those flushed, hardened nipples. He didn't go for them immediately, instead he let his warm breath fan over the sensitive skin, watching as Russia shivered in anticipation. Then with a slow, deliberate motion, he flicked his tongue across one nipple, circling it before taking the entire bud into his mouth.
“A-ah– oh– A-Amer-ica—!!!” Russia cried out, his voice cracking, his hands clutching at the bedsheets as he struggled to handle the intensity of the sensation.
But America was far from finished. He grew bolder, sucking greedily on the nipples and alternating between soft, swirling licks and sharp light bites. He wanted to hear every sound Russia could make and he wanted to push him right to the edge. Every time Russia tried to catch his breath, America would apply a bit more pressure driving him deeper into a haze of pure ecstasy and pleasure.
America stayed there for what felt like an eternity, obsessed with the way Russia’s body reacted to him. He switched from one nipple to the other, swirling his tongue around the sensitive tips before sucking them deep into his mouth, creating a vacuum that made Russia’s hips jerk uncontrollably. Each time America nipped at the peak, Russia let out a broken, high pitched sound, a complete contrast to the intimidating facade he wore in public.
"You're so sensitive here. Its adorable." America mumbled against his skin, his voice thick with arousal. He used his hands to massage the surrounding muscle, kneading Russia's chest and sides making sure Russia was completely overwhelmed by the sensation.
As he worked, America became aware of the friction between their lower bodies. The hard length of his own cock was pressing firmly against Russia's thigh, and as he shifted, he felt a matching hardness pressing back against him. A surge of heat shot through America. Knowing that Russia was just as desperate and needy as he was made the fire in his gut burn even hotter.
Slowly, America pulled away from Russia's chest, leaving the nipples glistening. He looked up seeing Russia’s eyes glazed over, his mouth open and gasping for air.
"I can tell you're wanting me just as much as I want you." America whispered.
His hand slid down, moving past Russia's stomach to the leather of his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle undoing sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet room. America didn't rush, he took his time sliding the zipper down.
He didn't pull the boxers down yet. Instead, he pressed his palm flat against the bulge in the fabric, feeling the heat and the pulsing hardness beneath. Russia let out a choked sob, his hips instinctively thrusting upward into America's hand.
America began to tease him, rubbing his palm in slow, agonizing circles over the fabric. He could feel the dampness of precum soaking through the boxers, a sign to how far gone Russia was. He used his fingertips to trace the length and the head of Russia's cock through the cloth, applying just enough pressure to make Russia moan, but not enough to give him the release he was craving.
"Please... America, I can't..." Russia pleaded, his voice a ragged whisper, his fingers digging into the mattress.
"Not yet." America teased, his voice dripping with desire.
Finally, America slid the boxers down, freeing Russia's length. The sight of him thick, flushed, and leaking made America's breath hitch. He wrapped his fingers around the base, his grip firm and warm.
The first slow stroke upward made Russia’s entire body stiffen, his head snapping back into the pillow with a loud, unrestrained moan. America found a rhythm, starting slow and deliberate. He used his thumb to swirl over the crown, catching the beads of moisture and smearing them across the head to keep him slick.
As the pace quickened, the sounds in the room shifted the wet, sliding sound of America's hand and the desperate gasps of Russia’s breath. America watched with satisfaction as Russia lost all composure, his legs shaking and his voice breaking as he called America's name over and over, completely at his mercy.
“America.. please..” The friction of America’s hand was driving him to the brink. His breath was coming in short, jagged hitches, and his hips were moving in a desperate, instinctive rhythm trying to force America to go faster, harder. He was completely undone, his composure shattered, replaced by a need that he couldn't control.
As America tightened his grip and increased the speed, Russia’s eyes snapped open, searching for America’s. He reached out, his large hands grasping at America’s shoulders, pulling him closer.
"America... please…" Russia gasped, his voice trembling. "I can't... I need... I want you inside me. Please, just... put it in."
America paused. He didn't stop the movement of his hand entirely, but he slowed it down. He looked at Russia, a smile playing on his lips. He loved seeing Russia like this begging, desperate, stripped of all his power.
"Oh? You’re begging?" America teased, his voice a low hum. He deliberately shifted his body, rubbing the head of his own hardness against Russia's thigh, letting him feel exactly what he was missing. "I don't know... maybe I like you right here. You're very cute like this. Maybe I like watching you squirm."
Russia let out a sound that was halfway between a moan and a sob, his fingers digging into America's skin. "Don't... don't do this. Please. I'm begging you... I need you."
America chuckled. To further the torture, he stopped moving his hand entirely, leaving Russia perched on the edge of an orgasm.
"Tell me how much you want it." America commanded. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."
Russia was shaking now, his chest heaving. The denial was almost physical, a pressure building in his gut that felt like it might explode. He didn't care about pride anymore he only cared about the relief America could provide.
"I want you... I want you to fill me up." Russia choked out, his eyes shimmering with a mix of pleasure and desperation. "I want to feel you inside me... please America, I can't take it anymore. Please... now."
America felt his own resolve snapping. The sound of Russia's broken voice was the final trigger. He leaned back just enough to look at Russia one last time seeing the flush on his cheeks and the longing in his gaze before he finally decided to end the torture.
"Fine." America breathed. "Since you asked so nicely."
America shifted, pulling away from Russia just long enough to stand by the side of the bed. The movement was slow and deliberate, as if he wanted Russia to savor every second of the anticipation. He reached down and slid his pajama pants down his legs, letting them pool on the floor. Even through the fabric of his boxers, the heavy, insistent bulge of his erection was impossible to miss.
Russia watched him with wide, glazed eyes, his breath hitching at the sight. The visual confirmation of just how much America wanted him sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to Russia's core, making his hole twitch in longing.
With a smirk, America hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slid them down. His cock sprang free, fully erect and pulsing with a need that mirrored Russia's. America didn't immediately return to the bed instead, he wrapped his hand around himself, giving his length a few firm, sliding pumps. He watched Russia's expression as he spread the glistening beads of precum along the shaft, making himself slick.
America climbed back onto the bed, but he didn't just lie on top of him. He grabbed Russia’s ankles and shoved his legs back, pinning them high against his chest in a vulnerable mating press.
The position left Russia completely open, his hips tilted up and his most sensitive areas exposed to America’s hungry gaze. Russia let out a shaky breath, feeling the sudden overwhelming vulnerability of the pose, his heart hammering against his chest.
America hovered over him, the tip of his hardness brushing against Russia's entrance, teasing the tight ring of muscle.
“You sure you want this?” America asked, his voice low.
Russia didn't even let him finish the sentence. He arched his back, pressing himself upward toward America, his voice a desperate, broken plea. “Yes! Please... give it to me America! Now!”
The command was all America needed. Without another word, he pressed forward, driving himself inside in one motion.
The sensation was overwhelming. Russia felt himself stretch, filled completely by America’s thickness. The sudden fullness was an explosion of pleasure and pressure that stole the air from his lungs. He let out a low moan that vibrated in his chest, his fingers clawing at the bedsheets as his body struggled to adjust.
“Ah– A-America...!” Russia gasped, his voice trailing off into a shaky whimper.
America groaned, burying his face in the crook of Russia's neck as he settled deep inside him. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling of being tightly encased by Russia's warmth. The fit was perfect almost painfully so. He could feel Russia's internal muscles pulsing and clamping around him in a welcome, drawing him even deeper.
“God, you’re so tight.” America hissed, his voice strained with the effort of not simply losing control right then and there. He looked down at Russia, seeing the sheer bliss written across his face.
Then, America began to move.
He started with a slow, punishing withdrawal, pulling back until he was almost entirely out, only to plunge back in with a heavy, wet thud. Russia let out a sharp loud cry, his head snapping back into the pillow. The friction was amazing, the heat between them intensifying with every sliding motion.
America didn't give him time to recover. He established a relentless rhythm, his hips slamming against Russia’s with a rhythmic, slapping sound that echoed in the quiet room. Because of the mating press position, every thrust drove America deeper, hitting a sensitive spot deep inside Russia that made the larger man’s entire body convulse.
“Right there... there!” Russia sobbed, his voice cracking. He wrapped his arms around America’s neck, pulling him down so they could share the same air.
America groaned, as he picked up the pace. He wasn't being gentle anymore, the playfulness of the evening had evolved into something hungry. He was driving into Russia with a desperate intensity, his muscles corded and straining with the effort. He could feel Russia’s internal walls squeezing him, pulsing around his shaft in a rhythmic grip that threatened to push him over the edge far too soon.
“Fuck you feel incredible” America hissed, his voice a guttural growl. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Russia was completely lost to the sensation. His world had narrowed down to the feeling of America’s weight on top of him and the rhythmic invasion of his body. He began to thrust back instinctively, trying to meet every one of America’s plunges, his legs trembling where they were pinned against his chest. The pleasure was becoming too much to bear a mounting tension that felt like a wire being pulled tighter and tighter.
America noticed the change in Russia's breathing the way it had turned into high pitched, rhythmic whimpers. He shifted his weight, grinding his pelvis against Russia's in a circular motion while continuing to thrust. The double stimulation sent Russia spiraling.
“America! I’m... I’m going to–!” Russia cried out, his voice breaking.
America didn't stop. In fact he pushed harder, his movements becoming frantic and fast. He wanted them to go over the cliff together. He reached down, his hand finding Russia’s cock, which was leaking and sensitive. He began to stroke it in sync with his thrusts, adding another layer of overwhelming pleasure to the mix.
The combination was the breaking point. Russia’s body stiffened, his back arching off the bed as a violent orgasm ripped through him. He let out a long, unrestrained moan, his internal muscles clamping down on America in a series of contractions.
The feeling of Russia peaking around him was the final trigger for America. With one last deepest possible thrust America let out a choked groan and emptied himself deep inside Russia. He shuddered violently, his entire frame shaking as he poured everything into the man beneath him.
As the waves of pleasure slowly stopped, America collapsed onto Russia’s chest, both of them drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized thumping of their hearts.
America didn't move for a long time, savoring the feeling of still being connected, the warmth of Russia’s body enveloping him. He shifted his head to look at Russia, with eyes that were half closed with a haze, a small dazed smile on his lips.
America let them sit there for a few moments before he slid out of Russia and got up off the bed.
“You wanna clean up dude?” America asked.
Russia blinked slowly, as though the question had to travel through a haze of exhaustion before reaching him. For a moment he simply sat there looking unusually vulnerable compared to his normal composed self.
Then he nodded.
“Okay...” he murmured. His voice soft and slightly slurred with sleepiness.
America couldn't help smiling.
“Man, you're exhausted.”
Russia made a small sound that might have been an agreement before carefully pushing himself upright. The moment he stood he swayed slightly on his feet. America immediately reached out to steady him.
“Whoa there.”
Russia responded by leaning against him without the slightest hesitation wrapping his arms loosely around America.
“Russia?”
“Mhm?”
“You're using me for balance.”
“I know.”
“At least you're honest about it.”
Keeping an arm around Russia America guided him out of the room and down the hallway toward the bathroom.
Only a few hours earlier every room had been filled with conversation, laughter, music. Now the only sound was the distant hum of Christmas music.
The colorful lights on the Christmas tree cast a soft glow through the hallway, reflecting off the walls as they passed.
Russia seemed content simply staying close. America could practically feel him drifting toward sleep with every step.
When they finally reached the bathroom America flipped on the light. He moved over to the shower and turned the handle. A blast of freezing water shot from the shower head.
America flinched and brought his hand back.
“Nope.”
America quickly adjusted the temperature.
“Definitely not that.”
Russia watched with mild amusement as steam slowly began gathering in the room.
As they waited for the water to warm up he wandered closer and rested his head against America's shoulder.
America glanced at him.
“Comfortable?” America asked
“Very.” Russia replied
The steam gradually thickened around them carrying away the chill of the winter night. Outside the window snow continued to drift lazily through the darkness. Inside everything felt peaceful.
America lifted a hand and gently brushed a few loose strands of pale hair away from Russia's face, and without really thinking about it, he pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then another to his cheek.
Russia's eyes fluttered closed. A faint smile appeared on his face.
“You are affectionate tonight.” he murmured.
“Yeah well... We have had a long night.”
Russia leaned into him a little more.
“I like it.”
For a few moments neither of them spoke.
The quiet felt comfortable.
Eventually America tested the water again.
His expression brightened.
“Alright. It's ready.”
The two stepped beneath the warm spray. Almost immediately the heat washed away the lingering cold.
America sighed in relief.
“Man, that's nice.”
Russia simply closed his eyes and tilted his face toward the water.
“Da.”
Warm water ran through his pale hair and down his shoulders.
For the first time all evening he looked completely relaxed.
America found himself smiling at the sight.
After a few minutes he reached for a wash net and squeezed a generous amount of body wash onto it. The scent of cedar wood and winter spices quickly filled the air. Working the soap into a thick lather, he stepped closer to Russia.
“Hold still.”
Russia stood in place.
“Good.”
America began carefully washing his shoulders first, moving the soft lather across his skin in slow circular motions.
A pleased sigh escaped Russia almost immediately.
America raised an eyebrow.
“Are you enjoying this?”
“It is relaxing.”
“You sound like you're about to fall asleep standing up.”
“Maybe.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Russia only smiled.
Shaking his head fondly, America continued.
He worked carefully across Russia's shoulders and upper back, making sure to rinse away the soap before moving on.
The warm water and steady routine seemed to relax Russia more with every passing minute.
The tension that usually lived in his posture gradually disappeared.
His shoulders loosened.
His breathing slowed.
By the time America finished, Russia looked completely content.
“There.”
America stepped back.
“All clean.”
“Thank you.”
The sincerity in his voice made America smile.
“No problem.”
Afterward America quickly washed himself before reaching for the shampoo bottle. America squeezed some shampoo into his palm.
Within moments he was gently working it through Russia's hair.
The pale strands became covered in soft white foam.
Russia practically melted beneath the attention.
His eyes drifted shut again.
“You are spoiled.” America informed him.
“Mhm.”
“Completely spoiled.”
“Mhm.”
“And you don't even feel bad about it.”
“No.”
“Thought so.”
His fingers moved carefully through the soft hair massaging the shampoo into Russia's scalp.
Russia let out another content sigh.
America couldn't help shaking his head.
“You're like a giant bear.”
“A bear?”
“Yeah.”
Russia considered this.
“Russia likes bears.”
“Of course you do.”
For several more minutes the only sounds in the room were the steady rush of water and their quiet conversation.
Eventually America rinsed the last of the shampoo away.
The pale strands fell neatly back into place.
“There,” America said proudly. “Good as new.”
Russia opened his eyes and offered him a small smile.
“Thank you, America.”
Something warm settled in America's chest.
“Anytime, dude.”
Eventually America finished washing himself as well.
By that point the bathroom had become pleasantly warm from the steam, the mirrors fogged over and the air carrying the faint scent of shampoo and cedarwood body wash. Neither of them seemed particularly eager to leave the warmth of the shower But unfortunately all good things had to come to an end.
America finally reached over and shut off the water.
The steady rush of the shower faded away, leaving behind a comfortable silence.
For a brief moment neither of them moved.
Then America stretched his arms above his head.
"Man, I'm tired."
Russia nodded slowly.
"It has been a long evening."
"That's one way to put it. You turned half the party into a drinking competition."
"Russia remembers some of that."
"Only some?"
"Maybe."
"Dude."
A faint smile appeared on Russia's face.
America shook his head before stepping out of the shower.
The cool air immediately met his skin, causing him to shiver.
Russia quietly laughed as America quickly grabbed a towel. After drying off, America tossed a second towel toward him.
Russia caught it easily.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
For several minutes the two of them simply got ready for bed. The atmosphere remained peaceful and relaxed. There was no pressure to fill every moment with conversation. The quiet felt comfortable.
Eventually America handed Russia the spare pajamas he had brought earlier.
"Here."
Russia accepted them.
"Thank you."
A few minutes later both of them were dressed and ready for bed.
The pajamas fit Russia surprisingly well.
"Not bad."
Russia looked down at himself.
"They are comfortable."
"Good."
America switched off the bathroom light and opened the door.
The hallway beyond was dimly illuminated by Christmas lights. Soft colors danced across the walls and ceiling. The entire house seemed to glow. Together they made their way back through the quiet hall.
As they passed the living room America paused.
The Christmas tree still stood proudly in the corner. Its lights twinkled softly in the darkness. Presents rested beneath its branches waiting for morning.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The sight felt peaceful.
Christmas was only a few hours away.
After all the noise and excitement of the evening, the quiet felt almost magical.
"It's nice." Russia said softly.
America looked over.
"What is?"
"This."
Russia gestured vaguely toward the tree, the lights, and the sleeping house around them.
"The party. The decorations."
America smiled.
"Yeah."
He looked back toward the tree.
"Honestly, I was kinda worried nobody would show up."
Russia looked genuinely surprised.
"Really?"
"Sure."
America rubbed the back of his neck.
"Everybody's usually busy doing their own thing."
For a moment he glanced toward the presents.
"But they came anyway."
Russia was quiet for a second.
Then he smiled.
"Because they wanted to."
The simple answer made something warm settle in America's chest.
Maybe Russia was right.
Eventually exhaustion won out.
America yawned loudly.
"Okay. If I don't get to bed right now I'm gonna pass out standing up."
Russia nodded.
"A wise decision."
The two continued down the hallway until they reached the guest room.
America pushed the door open and immediately noticed how peaceful everything looked.
The lamp beside the bed had been left on casting a warm golden glow throughout the room. Soft colored lights from the Christmas decorations outside filtered through the curtains, painting faint reds, greens, and blues across the walls.
For a moment neither of them said anything.
The house had finally gone quiet.
After hours of conversation, laughter, and music the silence felt almost surreal.
America let out a long yawn.
"Man... I'm exhausted."
Russia nodded in agreement.
"
It has been a very long day."
"Tell me about it."
America stepped further into the room before stretching his arms over his head.
Every muscle in his body felt heavy.
Between preparing for the party, hosting everyone, showing love to Russia, and staying awake far later than usual, he felt ready to collapse.
Russia didn't look much better.
The larger nation was visibly fighting sleep, his eyes drooping every few seconds.
America laughed softly.
"Dude, you look like you're about to pass out."
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
A small smile appeared on Russia's face.
"Perhaps."
America shook his head.
Moving around the room, America straightened a few blankets that had become tangled earlier before climbing onto the bed.
The mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight.
A moment later Russia joined him.
The larger nation settled beside him with a tired sigh, immediately sinking into the pillows.
For a few moments neither moved.
The blankets were warm.
The room was comfortable.
Outside the window, snow continued to fall quietly beneath the glow of the streetlights.
America found himself watching it for a moment.
"It looks nice out there."
Russia followed his gaze toward the window.
"Da."
For several seconds they simply watched the snowfall together.
There was something peaceful about it.
Something calming.
Eventually America reached over and switched off the bedside lamp.
The room immediately darkened.
Only the colorful glow of Christmas lights remained.
The faint illumination painted soft patterns across the ceiling and walls.
America settled deeper beneath the blankets.
Beside him, Russia shifted slightly until he found a comfortable position.
The mattress moved again.
Then moved once more.
America glanced over.
"Dude."
"Hm?"
"Are you seriously still trying to get comfortable?"
Russia remained silent for a second.
"Maybe."
Finally Russia seemed satisfied.
The room fell quiet again.
A comfortable silence settled between them.
America stared up at the ceiling.
It was strange.
A few hours ago the house had been overflowing with people.
Now everyone is gone.
The party was over.
Christmas morning was only a few hours away. Yet somehow this quiet moment felt like his favorite part of the entire evening.
After a while he felt Russia shift closer.
Not enough to crowd him.
Just enough that their shoulders lightly brushed beneath the blankets.
America smiled to himself.
He didn't move away.
Instead he relaxed further into the mattress.
The warmth was comforting.
The steady sound of Russia's breathing even more so.
"America?"
The voice came quietly through the darkness.
"Yeah?"
There was a brief pause.
"Thank you."
America blinked.
"For what?"
"For inviting everyone."
Russia's voice remained soft.
"The party was nice."
A smile tugged at the corners of America's mouth.
"Yeah?"
"Da."
Another pause followed.
"I think everyone enjoyed themselves."
America stared toward the ceiling for a moment.
Something warm settled in his chest.
"Thanks, dude."
Neither spoke after that.
There wasn't really anything else that needed to be said.
The room remained quiet.
Outside, snow continued drifting lazily from the night sky.
I
nside, the warmth of the blankets and the peaceful atmosphere gradually pulled them both toward sleep.
Eventually America let out one final yawn.
"Goodnight, Russia."
Beside him, Russia's eyes were already half closed.
"Goodnight, America."
His voice sounded distant with exhaustion.
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Sweet dreams."
"You too."
Within minutes the room fell completely silent.
The Christmas lights continued to glow softly through the window as the two drifted off to sleep, warm beneath the blankets while the first hours of Christmas morning slowly approached.