Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

German Beer and Dominance

"That's an end to today's world meeting," Germany announced, standing up from his chair slowly. He tapped a stack of papers on the table, straightening them out. "Merry Christmas everyone, see you next time." He started towards the door followed closely by Italy who was chattering on about some subject.

"Hold on, Germany!" America called out, jumping from his chair with a grin, "Its a couple days before Christmas. I say we all get together for a couple drinks."

"I think that's a good idea," Russia interjected, his smile saying he was hoping for something interesting to happen.

Germany stopped by the door, an apprehensive frown on his face. He looked from country to country find most of them intrigued by this proposition and then down at his companion. Italy looked hopefully up at him. He sighed and turned back towards the group. "And exactly where do you plan to have this little get together?"

America grinned around the table. "Why, your house of course. You Germans do make the best deer after all," France said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He grinned his usual smile that made nearly everyone creeped out.

With a roll of his eyes and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, Germany sighed. "Fine, fine, but if it ends up like last time you will never be allowed even near my house ever again," he warned. Even before the words were out of his mouth, there were whoops from around the table. There was the rushing of feet, and the room was empty in a matter of seconds.

"I'm going to regret this," Germany sighed. He turned around again and started walking, Italy hanging from his arm with a huge grin.

…..

America frowned, staring over at Russia who was sitting at a table with china a few tables away. It may have just been that he was absolutely, irrevocably drunk, but at that moment all he wanted to do was jump the Russian and take him right then and there in front of everybody. What was stopping him? France and England were making out behind a fern in the corner and a very drunk Italy was attempting to give a reluctant Germany a lap-dance. So why couldn't he just chalk it up to the next level?

"Damn, this German beer is some strong shit," America said to himself, cutting off his thoughts and tearing his eyes away from Russia. He leaned his chair back on two legs and kicked his feet up on the table. His eyes wondered, looking for something else to watch. His eyes landed on a passed out Canda sitting at the table next to him with an equally passed out Japan keeping his company. "Even knocked out Japan, this really is some damn good beer." He looked down at the topaz liquid in his glass with a speculative look.

It wasn't long before his eyes returned to Russia. What he found made him want to break several people's faces, and he didn't particularly care who fell victim to his anger. He didn't know what made him so angry, but it coursed through him unchecked causing his hands to clench. The glass in his hand broke into several large pieces.

He'd looked back over to Russia to find China trying especially hard to get the Russian to remove his clothes as several of the other very drunk nations, including China himself, had done. In the background, Prussia was up on the bar in his birthday suite dancing with a half-dressed Hungary. Somehow, he'd gotten her to revert back to her "I am a guy" days. Running around the room was a naked Poland, Greece, and Spain.

"This is probably as good a time as any," America thought through the fog in his mind, gauging how uncomfortable Russia was under China's insistence.

"Hey Russia!" he shouted across the tables to the other nation. He motioned him over with his whole arm, enthusiastic as ever, maybe more so with all the alcohol flowing through his blood stream. His blood alcohol level was through the roof.

Relief bloomed across Russia's face. He quickly extracted himself from China's clutches leaving the Asian nation disappointed, but he quickly skipped off to join the others. Russia hurried over to America, asking, "Yes, Amerika?"

Russia stood a couple feet away from him standing behind a chair. He had his hands clasped behind his back watching America expectantly. America frowned again and motioned his closer. He kept motioning the larger nation until Russia was only a few inches from him.

Without warning, he reached up and grabbed Russia's scarf. Wrapping the soft material around his hands, he tugged Russia into a deep kiss.

The Russian wasn't as surprised as he'd thought he'd be. He even returned America's kiss vigorously, his eyes slipping closed as he ran his gloved fingers through the other's hair. He clutched at the blonde locks under his fingers, pulling at America's hair in an attempt to pull a moan from his throat. To his pleasure, he succeeded almost immediately.

They were broke apart by several high-pitched, girl screams. They glanced at the others to find China's chin dragging on the floor in horror along with Britain's. The Brit had his head poked around the fern, his lips swollen and red. A table away, Canada had woken up. He had his fists pressed to his mouth, his eyes wide with the same horror the others were exhibiting. Belarus was on the other side of the roof, her hair writhing in fury. The rest were watching the scene play out with varying degrees of interest.

"Get away from him," she hissed angrily, her fingers curling into claws.

America and Russia looked at each other. They shrugged in unison. Unconcerned, America jerked Russia towards him into another kiss eliciting more screams from the horrified onlookers.

…..

"Russia, untie my hands, now," America commanded, pulling gently at the soft leather. Obviously, Russia had used it on a number of other individuals –probably his subordinates- and not just him. That just pissed him off that much more. He was a top, dammit! He was dominant! He did not play the role of bottom! And he sure as hell did not use toys used on other people! How the hell had they even gotten to this point? The last thing he clearly remembered was him shoving Russia up against the other nation's front door.

"No, I like you right where you are," Russia commented back, unconcerned as he unbuttoned his pants.

"I'm going to break your headboard, and it won't be by accident! I swear to God that I will!" the blonde nation warned, eyes glinting menacingly. He struggled against the bonds again, actually making an effort this time. A satisfying crack emanated from said headboard. "Oops," he said with a taunting smile.

Russia glared at him, purple eyes flicking between the wood and his soon-to-be lover. Well, he was sure to be more like a fuck buddy than a lover. "You can top," Russia began with a smirk and America was ready to let loose a victory cry when Russia finished with, "If you can get out of those bonds by the time I get undressed without breaking my bed.

America glared at Russia. "Oh, so I can just rip this then?" he asked, pulling with more of his strength at the bonds. They didn't rip. In fact, his fighting just seemed to make them grow tighter on his wrists.

"Silly Amerika, do you even realize that it's nearly impossible to rip leather, and even with your strength, in your inebriated state you can't use all your strength like you usually would?" Russia asked, his holier-than-thou tone coming through with every word. "I'd love to see you struggle some more." The Russian, ignoring his pants for the time being, decided that his shirt should go first. He pulled the thick fabric over his head, tousling his hair and revealing toned abs.

America's mind, like any man's, short circuited at the sight. He really, really wanted to ride Russia, and he was going to, as soon as his mind came back online and he ripped that piece of leather to shreds. He curled his fingers more tightly around the soft leather and pulled with just a little more strength. There was a cracking sound above him. He glanced above him, hoping to all that was holy that the headboard was still intact. When he looked back, Russia was glaring at him.

"You are well on your way to not getting your way tonight," Russia said, an edge of annoyance to his voice, "If you break my bed, I will make you wait a whole year before you can try to get at me again."

America snorted. "Dude, get off it. You wouldn't be able to go a year as much as I wouldn't," he shot back, smirking at the other nation. He remembered their kissing. It's not like his brain had been absent the whole time, though located in a different place than usual, his did remember the heated lust they shared.

Russia considered this. "You're right, but I could do other things that could have you wanting to rip your hair out. Such as, possibly, taking your sweet little brother over you. He may not have your temperament, but he sure does look a lot like you."

America's eyes narrowed, and he pulled at the restraints again. "Dude, no. You stay away from Mattie. You'd break him the first chance you got. That's not cool. I will rip you to shreds if you touch him," he warned and then a thought occurred to him, "You do realize, I have guns of my own right?"

"What do you mean? I have no friends or family that would affect me in this situation," Russia said apprehensively, his hands stilling on his pants.

"You may not have friends or family that you'd care if I fucked, but you do have quite a few subordinates that you'd hate to see touched by another person. Isn't that right?" America asked triumphantly. He pulled one last time and the wood to the headboard finally splintered. "Oops, sorry," he sang sarcastically. He sat up, pulling his back to their original position on his waist instead of resting on his hips.

Russia's eyes lost all humor turning flat and nearly black as they usually did when he got pissed accompanied by his aura. In a few long strides, he was standing over America looking menacing as ever, but America refused to back down per usual. "Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia are mine. Do not lay even one finger on them," Russia said in that voice of his that would be equivalent to that of a snarling wolf.

"Then stay away from Mattie. Simple as that," America said, smirk firmly in place.

They were quiet for a long moment before Russia broke the silence with the three words that pissed America off more than being told what to do by Britain. "I top," he said simply, shoving America against the splintered headboard and getting ready to slip between the blonde nation's legs.

"No! I'm top! I'm dominant!" America shouted back, glaring back at Russia. He shoved him away, pinning Russia to the bed who glared back indignantly.

"You broke my headboard. I deserve compensation. I get to top," Russia replied smoothly, jerking on the strap of leather still wrapped around America's wrist in an attempt to topple him. It had no such effect.

"Angry sex is always the best sex. Isn't that what people are always saying?" America asked with a grin, slipping his knee between Russia's legs, one of his hands resting on the Russian's exposed hip.

"We'll see if you're still saying that by the end of the night," Russia taunted, crushing his mouth against the American's before he could throw a retort at him.

…..

"Next time Russia, I am fucking topping! Damn, this hurts! How do the others put up with it? I don't care how good it felt. This fucking sucks!" America complained the next morning, sitting on a bag of peas. He held his throbbing head in his hands, groaning. He ached all over. During the couple hours they'd actually slept, bruises had bloomed across his skin, ringing bite marks. Hickies also peppered his skin running from him neck all the way down to his groin.

Russia walked in from the bathroom just as naked as America was. He sported his own collection of bites, bruises and hickies, but they were more centralized in his nether regions and his neck. "Stop yelling," he said, the cheerful tone gone from his voice as he glared ahead at his bedroom door, a hand pressed to his forehead like he was trying to keep his brain from flying through his forehead.

"I'll yell all I like!" America shouted in defiance before groaning and dropping his head back down, "I hate you. I'm going to kill you for this."

"The feeling in mutual," Russia retorted, starting towards his closet. That was when his bedroom door burst open making both nations wince.

"Congratulations on the sex, pets!" France shouted, flipping his hair as he sauntered into the room, "It is so great that you two have finally lost your stale virginities. I am proud of you." Behind him followed Britain, glaring flaming poison tipped daggers at the Russian still standing naked in the middle of his room. Behind them were two out of three of Russia's subordinates.

America glared at the intrusive blondes, yelling at them from his place on the bed. Russia grinned, his aura flaring to life. "Lithuania, Latvia, why are they in my house?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching in an effort to keep hold of what little restraint he had left.

"We're sorry, sir! They just burst in! We couldn't stop them!" the pair shouted together, bowing as low as they could.

"Is that so," Russia said more than asked, turning his glare onto the two blondes now fighting with America from the middle of his bedroom, "Get out. Now."

They pair shut up instantly, eyes going wide as the waves of hostility crashed into them. They backed up slowly until they were outside of the door along with Latvia and Lithuania. Then Russia slammed the door with such force that a window down the hall shattered.

Russia walked slowly over to the bed, sinking down onto it. Long-suffering sighs escaped from both countries and they seemed to visibly deflate. "If this is what it's going to be like every time, we're doing it at my house next time," America said, throwing the scrap of leather that had still been tied around his wrist at Russia.

Well, there you go. I hope it wasn't terrible. I hope the characters were at least slightly in character. Reviews would be lovely! :D