When Canada arrived at Boryspil Airport it had been four months since he'd last seen Ukraine face-to-face. They'd done everything to make up for the loneliness: sent e-mail and snail mail and wracked up an impressive phone bill, even tried phone sex once. They had to stop in the middle, having found it more silly than sexy.

In essence, they were both very sexually frustrated. The trip was going to be a four day break from all their work and most politics, despite the fact the subject was near-unavoidable given the circumstances of their existence, simply so they would have a chance to spend some much-needed time together. Sure, they'd have the summit next month they were attending on sex trafficking and ways to stop it, but it seemed hardly appropriate to be constantly making eyes at each other and sneaking off during such a serious meeting. The subject in general seemed to be a massive turn-off for most nations to begin with. No, if they wanted to relieve their rapidly growing need to see and touch each other again, it would have to be before that meeting. That was the plan, at least.

Then America and Russia simultaneously but independently decided coming along for the trip would be a good idea.

When the pair of North American nations arrived they were dead-on-their-feet exhausted. After Canada gave Ukraine a brief, friendly hug under America's watchful leer, she suggested they simply return to her home and spend the rest of their day quietly. There'd be time to enjoy themselves later. Canada was impressed that she maintained her composure so well; he'd been completely shocked when he saw America boarding the plan to Kiev.

He was even more impressed when she looked only mildly surprised at the sight of Russia doing dishes in her kitchen.

"Sestrá!" he chirped, turning to face the trio as they stood astounded. "I've missed you so!" The fact he said so in English was enough to confirm Canada's suspicion that Russia's "coincidental" visit was carefully planned to be as bothersome as possible.

Still, the twins went to the guest room to deposit their things and take a short afternoon nap while Ukraine had a very quiet, diplomatic talk with her brother concerning houseguests and the proper uses of kitchen knives.

When Canada awoke, he started assisting with supper, and once America was awake they tucked into a hearty, delicious supper. When they were finished, America even offered to do the dishes since he'd slept while they were cooking. He was probably trying to be mindful of his new boss' advice to be a better houseguest. Canada and Ukraine decided they wanted to have a stroll down one of Kiev's tree-lined walking paths. At the last moment, however, Russia decided he wanted in on the fun and joined them, babbling cheerfully to Ukraine in Russian half the time and to Canada in English in the other. And while sort of interesting, the walk was decidedly unromantic with Russia planted firmly between them.

It seemed as though they might be able to catch a break when in was time to go to bed. Then, at least, they could share Ukraine's bed and, if nothing else, at least get a chance to have some physical contact. Of course, Russia wanted to sleep with Ukraine ("We haven't in such a long time," he insisted), and right before bedtime America approached Canada, slightly nervous.

"I, uh… Could I sleep with you? I mean-- it's not like I'm scared-- but it's Russia and…"

"Safety in numbers?" Canada finished dryly.

"Yeah, that," America replied. Canada relented with a weary sigh. "And keep your toes to yourself," he added.

The next morning, after breakfast had been finished and cleaned up, America surprised them by requesting they go to the Yavoriv firing range. And before Canada could shoot him down with sarcasm, Russia agreed this was a good idea. Thus, the four of them piled into Ukraine's little red car and started the hour-long drive to the range.

When they arrived they endured the safety talk and put on their protective gear and were then met with a very nice selection of weapons. And it wasn't really a surprise that all four immediately reached for the Soviet-era AK-47. What was surprising was that they decided with speed and relative serenity that they would take turns with the assault rifle.

As Russia went to a station and began to prepare it, Canada and Ukraine glanced at each other in amazement. The look held longer than was perhaps necessary, and the air seemed to get warmer as their gazes turned into something more private, something that made Ukraine's stomach flutter and Canada's breath go ragged. They started to lean forward and Canada's eyes slowly slid closed and America smacked Canada firmly on the back.

"We have to beat Russia!" he declared loudly and cheerfully.

"Right," Canada deadpanned. When his brother went off to try and outshoot Russia the latter returned and effectively killed any remaining mood.

Then it was Canada's turn, and even though America and Russia has started bickering once again, Ukraine only saw Canada going to the station and begin to set up the AK-47. His hands moved purposefully over the assault rifle, hardly struggling despite his unfamiliarity with the weapon. He raised it to take aim, his finger settling over the trigger and tensing, just a little.

What stopped Ukraine's breath was the look of complete and utter focus in his eyes, sharp and intense behind his glasses. The first shot made her jump, her heartbeat pounding erratically in her chest as adrenaline rushed through her body in response. The second made her gasp, and when he fired for the third and final time she was finally able to tear her gaze from his ultra-precise fingers and see that knife-sharp expression once again. And oh, she wanted to touch him and hold his face and kiss him and be touched in turn. She imagined his meticulous fingers kneading her bare back, going down and over her hips, running down her stomach and--

"Sestrá," Russia said, jarring Ukraine from her daydream, "it is your turn."

"Ah, my apologies," she squeaked. She took the AK-47 from Canada's hands, her own already going over the familiar metal. She was far too used to the rifle for her liking, having been on both ends numerous times in her history. She took aim and fired thrice in rapid succession, the bullets making a triangle just to the right of the bull's eye.

When she pulled off her ear coverings she heard Canada say, "I shoot better with a C7. The difference in size and weight threw me off."

"Still," America replied, "what a shot! That's a well made gun, considering it's one of yours." He smirked.

Ukraine was more focused on Canada, though, who was taking advantage of his relative invisibility and slipping away, pulling off his bullet-proof vest and putting it away. She followed suit a moment after, assuring her little brother she would be back in a few minutes. He only nodded, distracted as he started to argue with America about who could outshoot whom.

Once inside, Ukraine hurried after Canada and took his hand, which was warm and sweaty from the outside heat. And as he turned to face her, his expression first surprised then full of warm joy, she could see his face was pink. He drew nearer and Ukraine let her eyes flutter shut as they began to kiss breathlessly. She held Canada's face, her fingers curling in his hair, while he wrapped one arm around her middle and cradled the back of her head in his hand.

Suddenly, Canada pushed her against a wall, the back of her head smacking against it through his hand hard enough to see stars. She winced, just a little, as he devoured her lips in messy, open-mouthed kisses. It was hot and insistent and it felt good, but eventually Ukraine felt the overpowering need to breathe and had to push Canada away. She sucked in air as quickly as she could, only to lose it again as their eyes met.

The same look of focus was in Canada's eyes, softened by love and lust, the one he'd used aiming the AK-47 only minutes ago. In a second she felt full of molten heat, all of it flowing up to her face or down past her stomach, now that she was the target of that look.

"Sorry," Canada mumbled, looking away and downright red-faced now that he realised how forward and demanding he was being. He was rarely so aggressive, except perhaps on the hockey rink and lacrosse field, and never with Ukraine. But, much to her amazement, she found the aggression was something she wanted. So she did the only logical thing a woman in her position could do. She grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him into another kiss.

And this time Canada remained aggressive, kept taking and kissing and held her tight between his body and the wall. She began to push against him, nudging her hips in short, fast jerks. Canada broke away with a surprised gasp and moaned as they started to grind. He nibbled on Ukraine's ear and nipped a pressure point, eliciting a moan from her even as he rubbed his hips and rapidly building arousal against her. And trapped as she was, Ukraine could do nothing but thrust against him as he brushed dangerously close to her clitoris. Each wave of sensation made her knees quake, and it was becoming clear she would not be able to stand when Canada ceased to hold her up.

She gasped as he relentlessly kissed her neck, trying to find another weak point that would be easier to bite and kiss. When he found one Ukraine actually slipped down the wall a few centimetres as she lost all control of her legs. It'd been too long since they'd been together, and neither were in top form anymore.

They were moving animalistically now, clothes clinging to their sweat-soaked bodies as they tried to get as close -- closer -- as they could, hands clawing at shirts and them heaving for air as them moved faster and harder. The warm weather and stuffy clothes and pure risk of their location all culminated to that moment, rushing towards Canada's release.

He suddenly stopped moving, stopped breathing, curling tightly against Ukraine as he orgasmed. He was clearly fighting the urge to continue thrusting into the space between their bodies. When he was finished his legs gave out and they slid down the wall together, Canada's head resting on Ukraine's shoulder as he slouched between her outstretched legs. She trembled, still painfully aroused and unable to do anything about it as long as they were in the hallway.

"Canada," she breathed heavily. "Canada, we have to move." Her heart was pounding in her chest, now out of fear that at any moment their brothers would turn the corner looking for them. What a sight they would be flushed dark red, panting for breath, with a very obvious dark stain at the front of Canada's pants. He lifted himself slowly, trying to stand. He only got to his knees before his legs gave out and he fell again.

"I can't," he breathed back, "I need a minute."

"So do I," Ukraine whispered, "but our brothers--"

A man suddenly turned the corner and saw the two, crumpled and blushing and breathing hard. He must've been a shy man; he immediately backed away and left when he realised what he was seeing. This time Canada did manage to wobble to his feet, using one hand against the wall to balance himself.

"Should we go back to your house?" he asked, giving himself a once-over.

"Yes," Ukraine said as she tried to stand despite her jellied knees.

The car ride back was long and uncomfortable, Ukraine driving while Canada spoke to his brother over his cell phone. He was trying to explain why he, Ukraine, and the car were gone without going into too much detail in a soothing voice.

They'd hardly made it to Ukraine room before they began to strip off each other's clothing, falling onto the bed and kissing fiercely. No time was wasted on foreplay. As soon as a particularly long kiss was finished Canada slid down, pressed a quick kiss to Ukraine's vulva, and began to eat her out. She was nearly silent, as always, but she positively writhed on the sheets as every muscle in her body grew as taut as a bowstring. She came quickly and hard; she'd been desperately aroused for far too long to last.

Canada's mouth was on hers only moments after, his kiss tasting salty and slick now. "May I?" he asked huskily as they parted. Ukraine nodded, still riding the final waves of her orgasm. And Canada pushed into her still-pulsating body with a deep, throaty moan.

They rutted shamelessly, more like animals than people, pressing towards a single goal with raw determination. There would be time to have fun, giggle softly and whisper "I love you" some other time. What they had then was messy and sometimes painful, something they'd never normally enjoy, but it was gratifying.

As Ukraine came a second time, the feeling of her muscles clenching and releasing Canada's erection undid him. He orgasmed into Ukraine's hot, sticky body with a sensation of deep satisfaction blooming in the pit of his belly.

Thus, finally sated, the couple curled together in Ukraine's bed and settled into an afternoon nap.

END

Bonus:

When Russia and America had paid their taxi and got into Ukraine's house, they were met with a disconcerting silence and a whiff of sex in the air. Unnerved, the two went closer and closer to Ukraine's room and peeked into the half-open door. All they could see was Canada's bare back, but it was enough.

"Oh..." Russia blanched visibly, a very rare sight.

"What is it?" America asked, a little worried. If Russia was scared it was usually something spectacularly terrifying.

"I do not wish to sleep with my sister tonight," he said in a soft voice.

Written for the illustrious olive_jeans of LiveJournal, originally posted on the special_sight community. (Have I plugged it enough, yet?)

Yup, all the guns used in this fic are real (although you probably knew that).

Thank you very much for reading~