Arthur turned from the door, borderline hyperventilating. How dare he? How dare he?

"-Hey, hey, babe. Sweetheart," Al pulled Arthur to his chest. Arthur buried himself in the surrounding warmth. "He's just-...confused. Shocked. He didn't know about me. Don't take it to heart,"

Arthur sniffled, "Why was he so shocked that I'm happy? Why is it such a ludicrous idea that I've found someone that makes me happy?"

Al shrugged, "Dunno. They don't see you like I do, the amazing little thing you are," He smirks as Arthur buries his face in Al's bare chest.

"Charmer..."

"You don't need them. You only need me. Trust me," Al grinned as he lifted England easily bridal-style, and smoothly carried him upstairs.

"Oh god Canada, he had horns and a tail and he looked like me Jesus Christ what is Arthur doing!" America garbled into a pay-phone, as his mobile seemed to have run out of battery,

"Calm down America," Canada's voice soothes from the other side, "Who did you see?"

"A guy!" America screamed, "That Al guy! That's why he's been gone so long, he's been fucking this guy!"

"Why is that so bad, America?" Canada scolds. "He's found someone he likes. We should leave him to it. He's not really hurting anyone, or missed anything important,"

"No, Canada, you don't understand. This guy was me. He looked like me, but with black hair and fucking fangs and wings and horns and a fucking tail, Jesus Canada, he was a fucking demon! And England had bite marks all over him and some of them were bleeding, I think he hurt England! Oh god, Canada..."

Canada was silent for a minute, "...Are you sure it wasn't just some freaky roleplay they were doing? You know England, erotic ambassador and all..."

"It wasn't a fucking costume."

Canada sighs, "England...What did England say again?" He sounded exhasperated.

"He said...He said that, uh...He said that I was just curious and that I didn't really care about why he disappeared."

"...Really? That's strange..."

"It's this Al." America says firmly, "He's manipulating England, I know it!"

"America. Go get a hotel room. Get some sleep. Come home tommorrow, and give England some space. Apologise to him when you think you're ready to."

"No-but-!"

"No. Do as I say." Dialtone.

God damnit Canada.

With one last erotic scream, England collapses under Al, whom finishes a few seconds after. He rolls off of England and pulls the nation's naked, shining body close to his own. England allows him to do so, a little dazed from his amazing end. He rests his head on Al's strong chest, smiling as they both catch their breaths.

"Hah...round two...?" England pants quietly, smirking up at Al

The Devil smirks, and rolls England under him again, as the nation chuckles.

America lies awake on the bed. Not his bed, an uncomfortable hotel bed. He sighs and rolls over. He just can't shake the feeling of someone watching him. Not only that, but his worry for England's wellbeing is gnawing at his nerves.

He huffs and rolls over again.

Only to come face-to-face to a pair of ice-blue eyes.

"Can't sleep...?"

Alfred froze with fear as a chill goes down his spine and a large, heavy weight settles itself in his stomach.

The being grins, it's fangs glinting in the limited light of the room. It's eyes seem to glow.

"Don't play dumb. You know who I am."

"G-get out..." America whispers as he finds his voice, "Get o-out, now...!"

The being in his bed chuckles, snapping it's fingers. Suddenly, the overhead light turns on and bathes the room in a stinging glow, causing America to blink a few times before he can focus on the person.

His jaw drops.

"Bingo," Al chuckles as America fights for words, "This is a nice hotel," The demon comments, because that's what he is with his fucking horns and wings and other shit, fuck. "How much was it for one night? Over ninety pounds right? Well, you are a country I guess, only the best for you..." He sings.

America swallows thickly and slowly sits up in the bed, "What do you want...?" He asks.

Al teases his bottom lip with an unsettlingly sharp canine, as he looks around the room in mock thought. He even hums too. "I want you too..." He pauses, "Ah. Let me show you something." He smirks. He snaps his fingers and-..

America barely has time to react before everything goes black and he wakes up to...A room. A tiny room.

No, not a room, a wardrobe? There's clothes here, button-up shirts and scratchy woolen jumpers. It smells nice. He's alone. Where did Al go?

"Haah..."

That startles America.

"A-al..."

What?

"Mnn..."

A man? Who is this?! Where am I?!

This is getting weird. America gently places his hand on the wardrobe door and pushes outwords, only ever so slightly, as to make a crack for him to see outside.

And he has a very good view of Al's back (He can tell by the fucking wings). He's moving, thrusting on top of someone whose legs are in the air beside his hips. They're moaning and gripping the Devil's back.

"Aahn. Al!

Al growls, "Yeah England?"

England?! No, no no no no no no. This is not happening. I am not watching some fucking demon fuck England! Jesus Christ help me, this is not happening.

But America doesn't pull his eyes away.

England's screams of ecstasy get louder and more desperate, and Al encourages him with sugar-sweet words, whispering manipulative things in his ear as the smaller man is lost in himself.

America continues to watch and doesn't notice how his blood rushes south, or his hand. He doesn't really notice when England and Al finish with screams or how he, disgustingly, follows and stains the wooden door of the wardrobe.

As Al and England lie together, England seems way too happy and Al way too smug.

America watches them, as Al's eyes move to meet his own peeking through the crack in the wardrobe door. America's blood runs cold, and Al grins widely. America falls back, expecting to hit the wooden back of the wardrobe, but he just falls, and keeps falling.

Eventually he lands in his bed, back at the hotel. The light is still on and he pants, sweating.

"Enjoy the show?" A voice boasts. America turns so fast he could have snapped his neck. Al is sitting on top of the hotel's wardrobe. His smug fucking face is accentuated by curling black ram's horns.

"What-...?! What happened?!"

"Well. You just jerked off to me giving your former brother the fuck of his life. I hope you liked it. I know he did..." America could just punch that shit-eating grin...

"No-no...Why did you...show that to me? Was that real?!"

Al laughs. A loud, mocking, booming guffaw. "Of course it was real! You think I could fake his cries of pleasure, screams of my name?"

"Stop it..."

"He begged me to fuck him, and I did. I filled him with my seed until he was ready to burst," Al leaned forward and smirked, "We're still going at it, even now. Would you like to see?"

"No!"

Al chuckles darkly. "As I am what I am, I can make multiple forms of myself and have them at different places at the same time. Cool, am I right?" He admires his hand as if it's a work of art. "I can give you a live commentary of what England's begging for right now, if you wish?"

"No. Stop it. Why do you keep...saying those things? Why did you show me that? Why are you here?" America screams.

Al jumps off of the wardrobe. He saunters towards the panicked nation on the bed and places a finger under his chin. "One. Because I'm having fun. Two. Because you're not. And three..." He straightens his back. "Because no one will believe you."

With another snap of the Devil's fingers, everything went black once again.