Worth

By: ZekuRoku

Pairing: Onesided Russia/America and America/England

"I'm not fond of you." America stated, glaring at the taller man that was towering over him.

Russia's response was a bright smile, "I absolutely hate your very being."

America smirked, "Well, I am rather happy the feeling is mutual." He could feel the tighten grip on his wrists, his head pound against the wall, and a pair of cold dominating lips on his. The blonde was finding it hard to breathe with a tongue forced down his throat. Despite his current situation, he released a heated moan in response. It made him feel sick to his stomach this was turning him on so bad.

Perhaps the guilt is what made him sick. He was cheating on England. There was no excuse he could use. Sure, they had gotten in a tiff, but it was wrong of him to go and take sexual release with another nation... Especially Russia.

"Is this why England's always so uptight? You just stand there, without a struggle like the bitch you are and just take it like an unresponsive whore?" The words were whispered in his ear as he was suddenly thrown to the ground with a loud thud. Without time to recover he was suddenly seeing white as a knee was forced in between his legs. Gasping for air, he began to realize the pain felt euphoric. "You want more?"

Taking in those icy words he heard the sound of a belt clanking to the wooden floor and the rustling of clothes...The anticipation was killing him... He was jerked forward by his shirt's collar, "On your hands and knees." The tone was dark and a hard kick was landed to the side of his face causing Texas to go flying in the opposite direction. "I said to get up on your hands and knees." His hair was yanked on and he was moved forward. He managed to kneel being positioned face to face with Russia's large member.

Perhaps the power of the situation was turning the emotionally psychotic nation on more than he thought. Alfred F. Jones... What have you gotten yourself into? Awkward silence buzzed, and did not mix well with the looming tension in the air. "Suck."

The demeaning command sent shivers down his spine, as he managed to deep throat the Russian successfully. A small grunt was released, and suddenly the American's face was being shoved forward again, a hand tightly gripping the hair on the back of his head, moving him back and forth. Whimpering at the pain that racked his throat and body, America found himself sexually enjoying the situation. What is wrong with me...

Without warning a warm substance was released into his mouth. There kneeling in front of Russia, on that living room floor he swallowed all of it like the whore he was. His hair was released, and before he could even let out a breath he was smacked across the face once again. In a moment of fear he began to move back, but Russia stepped forward. Looming over him with narrowed eyes.

"That was rather disappointing, but no matter. The best part is about to begin, da?"

America knew what was coming next, why didn't he stop it? Why was he not resisting? Arthur... That name kept running threw his mind. This was so wrong, just so wrong, but why was his body reacting to it?

He was now being stripped, his shirt being harshly torn off his bruised and battered body. Soon a mouth was biting down on his neck so hard he released a scream that caused Russia to shiver. He never even recalled when his pants were removed. While he laid exposed, another twinge of guilt was felt... This was seriously going to happen and the overwhelming emotion of confusion washed over him.

"You're a needy little thing aren't you? Perhaps this is why that incredibly stupid nation took interest in you." A chuckle was released. "Does it rack you with such guilt knowing you're moaning like a cat in heat under my touch and not his?" As if to prove a point he stuck two fingers into America's opening, dry. A few moans were released as he wiggled under Russia's painful ministrations.

Those words hurt more than he would have ever imagined as the tears began to fall. "I'm sorry Arthur," he whispered, releasing another breathy moan, before Russia positioned himself in front of his entrance. A creepy grin was the last thing he saw before his vision was blurred and seared white.

How he managed to drag himself to the door was beyond him. His mind was blank and all he could do was try to ignore the pain the flashed through ever inch of his battered body. Upon entering the all too familiar foyer he was greeted with a distressed looking England. It was then he fell to his knees and began to vomit.

Green eyes stared at the huddled figure in a state of shock, and horror. He stood in place, not quite sure what to do and terribly confused at America's beaten state. "Arthur..." The American began to sob after he was done, but continued dry heaving. A sinking feeling washed over England as he knelt down by the other blonde's side, pulling him into a tight embrace.

This only caused America to start crying louder and hold onto to the others shirt with a firm tight grip. England wasn't stupid. He could fill in the pieces himself. He could already tell what had happened and it made him feel incredibly dirty and unworthy. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He chanted over and over wishing that if he thought hard enough, that it would make it all go away. The pain, the regret... The memory...

"Shhh... It's okay Alfred." England had not realized his eyes beginning to overflow with tears of his own. "I'm the one who is sorry..." He kissed his lover's bruised forehead and cheeks, running his hand through the tangled hair in a comforting manner.

"I'm dirty... I'm a piece of shit..."

"Don't say that, shhh." It took about twenty minutes before the American had calmed, and cried himself to sleep. The sight of Alfred in such a condition brought more pain then he could ever imagine. Picking up America in a swooping manner, he carried him into their room. Quickly he changed the blood soaked clothes into newly washed ones, and treated the bleeding gashes that littered every inch of his body.

"Alfred..." He whispered to his lover that was now sound asleep underneath the warm bed covers. England hesitated and ruffled the figures hair before kissing his forehead. "I love you." It was then he exited the room, glancing back one more time before closing the door.

Blue eyes opened and stared into the darkness, "I... Love you too, Arthur." This guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life...

Author Note: This is the first time I have ever written anything that has involved any sort of... Sexual activity O.o I really hope this ended up not being fail. I have this image of England allowing America back despite having a suspicion of what happened... He probably feels responsible.

Should I continue? :) Reviews are appreciated!