The third and final chapter. Thanks for reading! :D

Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

"Canada..." Russia leaned forward, resting his chin against his folded hands. His cool expression seemed to soften as he studied Canada's earnest smile. "Were you planning on cleaning and cooking for the entire week?"

Canada blinked at the pair. "Yes, of course. Though if you want me to entertain you, I don't mind playing games with you or something, since the deal was-"

"That's not what the deal was for!" America crossed his arms, huffing. "Not at all. How could you have misinterpreted it?"

"You were vague," Russia said to him.

"It was perfectly understandable! Russia, if I told you to service me, what would you do?"

Russia smiled pleasantly. "I would tell you to go to hell."

"Oh. Well, yes, right. And if I said I wanted to service you?"

"In that case, I would take my pants off and tell you to get on your knees."

"Yes! Thank you."

Canada stared at them. But if they did that, they would be... they would... ohh... "You want me to perform fellatio on you?"

Russia nodded. "Yes. Among other things. That was... Why are you laughing?"

America was shaking with barely suppressed mirth. "I'm sorry! I don't think I've ever heard anyone casually call it 'fellatio' before."

"You are an idiot." The large nation turned back to Canada. "But yes. That was the idea for this week."

Canada could only gape. That was what they had wanted all along? Not cleaning or anything, but... sex...? A week of sex for a lost hockey game? Oh! I agreed to the kitchen table! I agreed to everywhere! "I... I didn't realize..." He felt his face grow hot. They weren't a couple of big kids, they were a couple of perverts!

"Excuse us a moment," Russia said. Canada backed away, and the pair of degenerates huddled close together to hold a whispered discussion. He didn't overhear anything interesting, just the occasional "Yeah, but..." and "I know, but..."

"Just stop your whispering," Canada muttered, staring at the floor, face still aflame. "I'll do it."

"Um." They slowly turned to look at him. "What?"

"You heard me." Canada hunched his shoulders. "But know that I will forever think of you as a couple of filthy perverts who are worse than... er... the same as France."

"We understand," America said, and Russia nodded.

Canada waited patiently for them to apologize, to say that their deal was forfeit since he hadn't really known what he was agreeing to, to laugh and say it was a joke... They just stared expectantly at him, and he sighed. "Do I have to get naked?" He reached behind his back to untie the apron.

"Wait!" America held a hand out. "I mean... yes, but leave the apron on."

"And the kerchief," Russia said.

Canada eyed them, but managed to tug his clothes off without removing the apron. His shirt messed up the kerchief, but he straightened it back out.

"Underwear, brother dear."

Face burning hotter, Canada dragged his boxers off. Well... he supposed he was glad they wanted him to keep the apron on.

"Maple leaf boxers?" Russia smiled. "You are very fond of that plant."

Canada sputtered. "I bet yours have sunflowers on them."

"Would you like to see?"

"Th-that's not what I meant!"

"Hold on a sec," America said. He stood, shuffling around behind Canada. "Nice! Come look, Russia."

While Canada waited to die, Russia joined America behind him. "Oh yes. Very nice."

"I told ya!"

"What are you so impressed about? You are twins."

"That doesn't mean everything looks the same. … I don't think. Does it?"

There was the sound of a zipper, then clothing rustling. After a long silent moment, Russia said, "Hmm, yes, they do look alike."

"Really?" America said. "We have the same butt?"

"Very similar. You never noticed in the last few hundred years?"

"I don't spend a lot of time looking at my own ass! Or his. We haven't bathed together since we were colonies."

"Can we get on with it?" Canada said.

"Hey, we've got all week!" But America plopped back down on the couch, pants still unfastened, showing off his happy face boxers. He gestured to his crotch. "C'mon, get Ol' Glory out!"

Canada gaped. "Y-you name it after your flag?"

"It's a good name. What do you call yours?"

"I do not name my penis!"

"For goodness sake, bro! It's a dick, a cock, your junk..."

Russia rubbed his chin. "I thought 'junk' referred to penis and testicles together."

"Oh, not you, too!"

Canada firmly ignored them. He knelt down in front of his brother and took a deep breath, then reached into his boxers to tug his erection out. America relaxed back into the cushions with a long sigh of pleasure. Geez, he was already hard...

"You get his mouth first?" Russia said, sounding rather unhappy.

"It was my idea! You joined the bet later."

"You were too stupid to get the point of the bet across."

"Doesn't matter."

"Very well then." His voice suddenly became pleased. "Then I get him from behind first."

"What?" America scowled. "Nooo way."

"Yes way~" Russia sing-songed.

"You're too damn big! I don't want your sloppy seconds."

"Just sh-shut up and do it," Canada mumbled, trying to pretend he wasn't kneeling there in nothing but an apron, his brother's penis—cock in hand, Russia behind him, and being called somebody's sloppy seconds.

"Up," Russia said, and suddenly his large hands were on Canada's hips, their coolness sending a shiver up his spine. He guided Canada onto his hands and knees. Canada grabbed a cushion to kneel on, not particularly thrilled at the thought of rug burns on his knees.

"Just be careful." America glared over Canada. "I don't want him to bite me or something."

"I cannot help it if I am just that good."

"I mean it! If he bites me, I'm blaming you, and totally nuking the hell out of Moscow."

"Do not say that. He will bite you on purpose, knowing there are no repercussions for him."

"Fine. If he bites me, Moscow and Ottawa are toast."

Canada rolled his eyes. He stared down at the organ in his hand, sighing again. He leaned closer and poked his tongue out to give a tentative lick. Judging by the noise his brother made, he enjoyed that, so Canada repeated the action, drawing it out longer.

He paused when he felt Russia's hands on his behind. He didn't particularly want to start World War III, so he continued to give America the ice cream cone treatment. He would wait to do anything further until after Russia had... after he... yeah. Canada blushed again just thinking about it.

Russia must have found lubricant somewhere, as the finger he traced downward was quite slippery. It circled his entrance, and Canada shivered.

"You are sure he has done this before?" Russia said doubtfully.

America opened his eyes. "I'm sure! We're totally bros, we talk about stuff like that."

Canada could feel the blush reaching his shoulders. He wished they wouldn't speak. "I have," he mumbled, to set Russia's mind at ease. He wasn't sure where America had heard about that, but it had not been from Canada.

"Good." The finger pushed inward, and Canada gasped. He noticed his brother start to pout, so he gave him another long lick, shivering as Russia's finger probed around inside him. Another slipped in, stretching him, making it hard to concentrate on pleasing his impatient twin. Closing his eyes, Canada slid his tongue over the head of America's cock, lapped at the slit, feeling utterly wanton.

"You are enjoying this," Russia said, pressing in another finger. Canada honestly wasn't sure which brother he was speaking to. He grimaced at the burn of being stretched, and every time he paused, America's hand on his head reminded him of his task.

The fingers withdrew, and Canada shivered again. He somehow managed to blush deeper as he again reflected on his situation.

"You're really red there, bro," America said, but went ignored.

Canada took a deep breath and forced himself to relax when he felt the blunt head of Russia's cock press against him. America's hand on his head was gentle as it combed through his hair, soothing him as the large organ pushed into his body. Canada breathed deeply through his nose as he was filled.

The things he did for hockey.

"Very nice," Russia was murmuring as he gently pressed in deeper. "Feels good." And some other random phrases in his own language.

When Canada decided he wasn't going to suddenly bite anything he shouldn't, he resumed licking his brother. After another deep breath, he sucked the head into his mouth. America made gasps and mewls of pleasure as Canada lapped at the underside and suckled gently.

Russia drew out and thrust back in, startling Canada, forcing his body forward and America's cock deeper. He felt a moment of panic as he gagged slightly, but firmly told himself America would not appreciate secondhand poutine on his genitals, and got his gag reflex under control. Russia thrust again, and Canada gave a muffled moan.

"Ah... see?" America said with a groan. "I told you he'd enjoy it."

Canada whimpered, wanting to sink into the floor and disappear. Now they thought he was a whore! Never mind that he had two cocks inside him and it kind of did feel good... Well, Russia's did, he couldn't very well say the one in his mouth felt good, and... Russia thrust again and hit that spot and Canada's train of thought completely derailed. His concern about his appearance and reputation diminished as pleasure washed through him, and he moaned without (much) shame around America's cock.

He worked his mouth as best he could, suckling and swallowing around America. He didn't even have to worry about moving his head too much, the movements of Russia and America's hips doing that for him. The three of them set up a steady pace together, as well as created a symphony of sound with their moans and cries.

Then Russia's hand wrapped around his cock underneath the apron and Canada saw stars. Even if his jaw ached, his straining, leaking erection was being gripped and stroked, and Russia's big cock was sliding in and out of him, filling him completely, rubbing against his prostate. Canada had never felt anything so incredible.

"N-no fair," America gasped. "You get his ass and his dick first?"

"That is right."

"Yeah, well... his mouth is awesome. Sucks to be you."

"Oh yes. Poor me, how I suffer. A-ah..."

Russia gave a particularly hard thrust, squeezing Canada's cock, and it was just too much. Canada groaned and whimpered as he came all over Russia's hand, the apron, himself, and the cushion beneath him. He trembled as the large hand milked out every last drop.

"Th-that is nice," Russia said, removing his hand. "So tight."

Sagging weakly, Canada remembered that he was neglecting his duties. He drew back, suckling as he went, lapping again at the head when it left his mouth. America made interesting noises as Canada took his cock in again, swallowing it completely.

Behind him came a low, rumbling groan. He felt Russia's thick cock twitch, and then he was filled with sticky warmth. Russia continued to thrust shallowly as his semen continued to spill out deep within Canada, then finally pulled out.

America followed not long later, and though he choked a bit, Canada managed to swallow every drop.

It wasn't until all the tingling had faded and his pulse had calmed down that Canada was again overwhelmed by what they had done, and he curled up in a very red-faced ball.

"Wow," America panted from where he was collapsed on the couch. "And that was just the first, vanilla round."

Russia grunted in agreement, kneeling on the floor still. "Five more days."

"We'll have to get creative!"

Canada's entire body burned with embarrassment. God, he was a whore! Every end of his body throbbed, and he was laying in his own...

"Oh." America brightened as Canada removed the apron. "Are you ready for more so soon? No offense, bro, but... uh... you don't look ready."

"I just cleaned this place," Canada said. "Now it's dirty again! I'm going to toss this in the laundry, then scrub that cushion, then take a bath."

"Then what will you wear?" Russia asked.

"I have a maid outfit," America said. "A dress. It has a short skirt..."

Canada groaned. The maid dress again... "Why do you have that?"

"It was a gift."

"Is your tub big enough for three?" Russia asked.

"Maybe if the third was China. Not you."

"Then we will need to compete. Winner bathes with him."

"I can really bathe myself..." Canada said.

America ignored him. "You're on!"

"The loser can have him first in his maid dress."

"Wait, then maybe I don't want to win..."

"Um, guys...?" Canada squeaked.

Russia was rubbing his chin. "Do you still have those restraints?"

"Yup!"

"Guys?"

"Excellent. I have brought many toys."

Canada had a sinking feeling Russia didn't mean teddy bears and kites.

"Awesome! Okay, a round of video games will determine the bath winner."

"I have brought Tetris."

"Hell no, you cheat!"

"I do not."

Canada fled from the room, stained apron held tightly in his arms. Geez. The things he did for hockey.