Grey curtains covered the windows inside of Britain's little bathroom. And while you would've expected toilet flushing, someone showering, washing their hands, leaving, entering, something else was going on. Something much more different, and not so practical in a bathroom.
...
"Ahh.. Aah!!"
Propped up against the ceramic counter was the UK himself, and his newly-wed partner, Soviet Union, who didn't waste any time furiously pounding into the other. Neither would he waste any time dirtying the polished counter with both of their sex fluids. Britain, who just couldn't hold it back no matter how hard he bit his lower lip, was crying out and moaning with each thrust, and the rough skin-slapping when their hips connected made him shiver. His mind was completely blank, but only one thing remained prevelant - this moment. Even his lips stung with bruising from when he was shoved in here and immediately made out with; violently pushed against the counter and brought up onto it, his legs pried open like a can, and... the rest is history.
His neatened hair had now come undone out of its place, and it now fell all around his face. A few cum stains were also on his trousers which were once neatened and cleaned up, but now they were wrinkled and filthy, much to his distaste. Yet he still had his earrings, his polo shirt and tux, and even his monocle remained intact. The constantly hard thrusting and kissing on his neck had made him completely vunerable and limp to Soviet's touch; his desire and wants were evident as he kept screaming the other's name into his ear, sobbing, screaming, grasping, gripping, clawing at him, his neck, face, back, anything he could hold. His mouth opened wide and spilled out words almost identical to sweet nothings.
"Sovi- S-Sovie- Soviet~!.. more!!"
But the other didn't respond, or make any recognisable noises, and only grunted before pushing in even deeper - he hadn't even bottomed out yet and he could already hear a screech of pain and pleasure from Britain. His face amused him, but he didn't want to embarrass him. Not too much, anyway. Plus, he was nearing his own orgasm, so he stayed consistent with his pace and swiftly locked lips with him; a sloppy and slightly wet session, but still enjoyable for them both.
As he sunk in deeper, his hole had also stretched out to painful lengths, and Britain's inner walls felt like mush - his ruined hole shrank from the abscence of that thick dick when he felt Union pull out. Panting in exhaustion, his heart thumping wildly against his flesh, he gazed with a hazy lust at his lover's next moves. His legs, previously on the other's shoulders, lowered and hit the marble, but his skinny thighs ballooned out slightly.. he needs to cut down on all that food America's been giving to him, he thought to himself.
"..Hey, lean your face here... fuckk.."
Beckoning with his fingers, he watched almost immediately as UK gave in and shuffled forward. He looked up and eventually, after a while of enjoying the other's groans from rubbing himself off, he felt cum spew allover his face. Some on his lips, which he licked away and slowly swallowed despite it's malty taste, some tainting his hair, and most of it landing on his sweaty collarbone. He giggled, his fatigued huffs mingling with his laughter. He didn't know why, but there was just something so sweet about sex which gave him butterflies. Maybe it's just him being a hopeless romantic.
"Mm.. honey.. Soviet.."
"You okay, or did I go too rough on you?"
Soviet felt it was best to ask the important questions first - he didn't want to seem like an asshole and thus queried on his wellbeing. After all, he didn't want the other man to think he didn't care for him at all. Which was the partial and unfortunate truth.
"No.. let us go to bed-"
The door started to shake, and that's when the pair noticed that the handle was being fumbled with. They, thankfully, locked the door. However, Britain didn't even move. He had already realised that it was probably his son, America, who needed the bathroom.
They were the only two who actually lived in the house - his other children, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, were taken custody of by his ex-wife, France. He never found out why they split apart, but because those three were young children and legally only had two options.. they chose his mother. Only America, who is an adult, lives with him, and he's glad for someone to be with him atleast. He is certain that he doesn't want to see the rest of his children ever again, not after they stepped foot out of his door. And he hasn't dwelled on it much since. It doesn't matter. No. It doesn't at all.
After a while, the door handle started to click up and down more aggressively, followed by the banging on the other side. That's when he jumped, turning to the door then immediately looking back at Soviet. Panic was written all over his face.
"That's America at the door- oh goodness, we need to tidy ourselves up! This can't do!"
Carelessly, Soviet picked up his slacks from his ankles and buckled his belt back up again. Then the polo shirt, which had dirtied itself slightly from their ordeal, and finally, the blazer of the tux.
"You look handsome... gosh, I'm just very much in love with you, honey.."
Another laugh emerged from him, this time sweeter, and he too began to clean himself off with tissues found on the counter - he was a much faster change of clothes then the other.
"I love you too." But he knew he didn't mean that. And now they had America to deal with, so this wasn't great.
