Matthew lay on his side. His eyes were half open and glazed over. He was exhausted.

He wasn't sure what time it was. He guessed it must be somewhere in the middle of the night by now. Considering he and Alfred had dragged Russia to his room mid-afternoon, hours and hours must have passed.

He wanted to close his eyes and sleep, but there was no telling when the Russian would grab for him again. Besides that, his arms were still tied behind his back. They were quite numb by then, and the position was much too uncomfortable for sleeping.

He was on the bed, his cheek nestled against a pillow. Russia sat beside him, stretched out and relaxed as he flipped through the channels of the hotel television with the remote. A bottle of vodka was nearby and occasionally sipped from.

Matthew's behind was as numb as his arms. He'd lost count how many times the huge nation had taken him. And how long it took for the man to reach his climax. Russia had amazing stamina. And mercy, Matthew noted throughout the evening. The Russian always made sure there was plenty of lubrication, but even still, Canada had been fucked raw.

He was so tired. He figured Russia was tired as well, which accounted for the television break.

He shivered a little bit in the cool of the hotel room, and listened to the seconds of dialogue on each flipped channel before Russia eventually gave up finding anything good to watch. The television was turned off and the remote was tossed aside.

Matthew groaned when a hand buried itself in his hair and started to drag him up.

Not again.. oh God I can't take it again..

He was pulled into Russia's lap and pushed uncomfortably forward so that his forehead touched his knees and his arms were stuck out behind him at an awkward angle. He whined in protest, wondering what sort of weird position he was going to be fucked in this time, when he felt the rope around his wrists being untied. Once he was free his arms dropped to his sides, numb and useless. They had no feeling in them.. but slowly the blood began to trickle back, giving him that awful pins and needles sensation.

He was pulled back against the Russian's chest and cradled there gently. Violet eyes smiled down at him. Matthew tried to smile back, but found his lips and mouth too dry. He'd just spent hours gasping and moaning, and calling out from multiple orgasms, afterall.

Russia reached for his bottle of vodka.

"Drink. You feel better."

The little blond tried to lift his hands to take the bottle from Russia, but found his arms were too weak and unwilling to move. The huge nation chuckled and brought the bottle to Matthew's lips and held it there, like he were nursing a baby.

Matthew drank deeply, ignoring the harsh taste and the way the liquid burned his throat on the way down, then settled uncomfortably in his stomach. When he'd had enough, Russia tipped the bottle to his own lips and drank the rest.

He set the bottle aside, then turned his gaze back to the exhausted blond in his arms.

"So. Tell me who else little Canada has had."

Matthew felt his face flush at the question. The very last thing he wanted to do was tell Russia about his exploits. Only America knew the answer, and he wanted to keep it that way. It was their dirty little secret. He turned his face away with a frown.

Russia slapped his face. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but certainly hard enough to sting. Canada yelped in surprise, then whimpered when the Russian grabbed his chin and forced him to look back at him.

"Tell me." Russia smiled, squeezing Matthew's chin tightly.

Matthew frowned again, but his expression began to dissolve into a pout. Russia wasn't going to let him do anything but tell the truth. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Germany.. Austria.. Sweden.."

Russia nodded, listening.

"Prussia.. Denmark.." Denmark alot. He liked Denmark.

"Mmhmm." Russia said, "And?"

"Spain.. Australia.. Japan.."

Russia's eyebrows raised in surprise. Matthew blushed even deeper. Japan was a bit different when it came to Matthew's usual taste in men.. but he'd been a fun choice for an evening a few years back.

"What about France?" Russia asked him. Matthew shook his head.

"Papa and I.. um.. I never have to.. I'm not shy around Papa."

Russia nodded his understanding.

"And England?"

Matthew shook his head again.

"I don't mess with Father. America would be mad."

"Hmmm.. America." Russia smirked and gazed thoughtfully up at the ceiling, "Is pity he did not stay to 'play' with me too. But perhaps next time we play with him together?" He laughed.

How the huge man could sit there smiling and laugh like a child after he'd just spent hours fucking, Matthew would never know.

Next.. time...?

Russia wanted a next time? Matthew shivered. Russia pulled him closer and began to rub warmth into his sore, tingling arms.

"Is not right to do this to nations without consent." Russia waggled a finger in front of his nose, like he were scolding a child.

"From now on, when little Canada need his ass fucked.. he come to me. Da?"

Matthew blinked up at Russia, his eyes wide. He was so shocked he wasn't sure what to say. He gulped when Russia's huge hand closed around his throat and gave him a little shake.

"Da?" Russia asked again, staring into Matthew's eyes. Matthew stared back.. then slowly began to nod.

"Yes."

Russia smiled, brushing some of the blond hair out of Matthew's face. He leaned in to kiss him, brushing their lips together softly. Matthew trembled, but somehow found the strength to lift his arms, circling them around Russia's neck. He kissed back, his eyes drifting closed.

"Good boy." Russia whispered through the kiss, and Matthew moaned when he felt the larger nation growing hard again beneath him.

The break was over.

Russia fisted Canada's hair again, breaking the kiss and pushing him down face first onto the bed. Matthew whimpered, but he didn't struggle. He was hard and aching with need, his legs spread wide when the Russian's fingers pushed inside him, covered in lube. It was another two rounds before Russia finally let him go.

Dawn was breaking when Canada finally unlocked the door to his hotel room and staggered inside. He shut and locked the door after himself, wincing when even the smallest movement caused pain to travel up and down his legs and throughout his lower back. He was so sore.. he was quite sure he wouldn't be able to sit down for a month. Nevermind the 'love bite' marks all over his neck and shoulders, and the rope burns around his wrists.

Clothing was shed and dropped on his way to the bed. He walked gingerly, then carefully lay down on his belly. He was too tired to even try pulling the blankets around himself. All he wanted to do was fall asleep. His eyes closed heavily, and his mind drifted off into a dream. A dream of silver hair and violet eyes..

There was an annoying buzzing sound coming from somewhere.

He tried to ignore it.. but it wouldn't stop.

Matthew peeked and eye open and listened, wondering what it was. Then.. he realized.

Oh. My cellphone.

Russia had taken his cellphone at one point in the night and programmed his personal number into it.

"You call." was all Russia had said.

Call whenever I need my little ass fucked. Canada had repeated in his mind.

Matthew shivered as he pushed himself up. Was Russia calling him now? Hadn't he kissed the man goodbye with an 'until next time'? He thought by then even Russia had to be completely exhausted and.. drained. He couldn't possibly want it again so soon.

Matthew picked his blazer up off the floor, wincing again at the sting that came from the extra movement. He fished his cellphone out of his pocket and saw that it was not Russia calling. It was Alfred.

Alfred? Alfred actually remembered? Granted.. it was five in the morning the next day.. a far cry from 'call me as soon as you're done'. But still. America remembered him, and remembered that he'd been worried about Canada's doings with Russia.

"Hey, Al," Matthew answered his phone. He suppressed a yawn.

"Holy shit, Mattie! I did not forget you! Are you ok? You got out safe?"

America sounded frantic. There was a muffled noise in the background, and the familiar voice of England growled that 'it was too damn early in the damn morning for damn phone calls, shut the hell up and get back into the damn bed, America'.

Matthew couldn't help but snicker. He was glad to hear his brother had made up with England.

"I'm ok, Al. Thanks for remembering."

America hushed his voice to try and not disturb his bed parter any further.

"So.. you did your thing and you're happy now?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Ok.. well.." America sounded hesitant, like he wanted to ask for details.. but at the same time he didn't. He really didn't.

"How about we go clubbing together sometime?" Matthew asked. A new, delicious little plot was suddenly beginning to form itself in his mind.

"Uh.. sure! We can do that, Mattie. You name the time and place, kay?" America sounded surprised.. and pleased. And unsuspecting. And naive. Canada smiled.

"I need some sleep. Catch you later, Al."

Matthew hit 'end' on his cell, then tossed it aside.

Catch you later, America.

Matthew's smile only faded after he'd climbed back into bed and had fallen asleep.

END.

SO. Who wants a sequel where our hero - sex crazed little Canada - seduces America and Russia is involved? I'm not normally a RusAme fan, but I'll write it if there's enough interest. ;p

Leave me a review to let me know. ^.^