Forever...? (Soviet x Britain Contryhumans) COMPLETED

Chapter 3

Britain sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He noticed he was in his room, but he remembered falling asleep on the couch.

Must have fallen asleep here, he concluded. Britain glanced at the clock, 7:58 am.

He changed into a different suit and went downstairs to make breakfast. He glanced at the couch, seeing Soviet asleep, snoring loudly. Britain chuckled and quickly made breakfast.

He brought the plate of waffles to the living room. He set it on the coffee table and knelt beside the couch.

"Soviet," he whispered, drawing out the name. Nothing. "Soviet!" Britain hissed. Nothing again. "Oh, bloody hell," he mumbled to himself, standing up. "UNION OF SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLICS!" He yelled.

The Slav shot up, looking around. He sighed playfully when he saw Britain, "really?"

Britain handed Soviet his plate, "really."

Soviet took the plate and started eating. "Thank you, this is really good," he said. Britain smiled softly, going to the kitchen.

"There's more if you need," he called, getting himself some tea. Britain brought his hot tea to the living room, sitting beside Soviet. He took a sip, not making nearly as much noise as Soviet did the night before. He stood up, putting tea teacup and saucer on the coffee table, "I'm going to wake up my sons, you can stay there or do what you will."

He turned around, hearing Soviet whistle, "that a new suit, Britain? Because the last one didn't show your curves nearly as much~"

Britain paused, blushing. "That a new personality, Soviet? Because the last one wasn't nearly as annoying," he said back, walking up the stairs with his hands behind him. He gently knocked on Canada's door, "Canada? It's time to wake up for school."

A quiet groan came from inside the room, "okay, dad!"

Britain smiled and went to America's room, "America! Time to get up!"

"Fine," America mumbled. Britain turned and went downstairs, seeing Soviet lazily a strewn on the couch. He had his eyes closed, but not asleep. Britain could tell because he wasn't snoring his head off.

Britain sat beside him and took his tea. He closed his eyes, sighing. A warm hand rubbed his back gently, comforting him.

"Is everything okay, Britain?" Soviet asked.

Britain waited until America and Canada were off to school—which only took a few seconds—before slouching and putting his tea on the table.

"Everyone expects me to be so formal," he whispered through his bottled-up tears.

Soviet hummed, hugging Britain, "it's okay to cry, Britain." He sniffed, holding onto Soviet's jacket. Eventually, he let out a sob. He hugged Soviet tightly, crying like he never had before. Britain cried out incoherent nonsense, his words slipping into Roman*.

All Soviet did was listen, rubbing Britain's back lightly. And that was enough for him. He just needed someone he knew wouldn't leave. Like France did.

"Oh, b—bloody hell," Britain whispered when he calmed down. "I—I cried all over y—your jacket."

Soviet chuckled, "it's okay, Russia did that a lot when he was younger."

Britain laughed along, wiping his tears. His stomach felt light and his face warmed up when he heard Soviet laugh. It was deep and handsome.

I just thought Soviet was handsome! Britain thought, surprised. Well, can you blame me? He is perfect.

"Britain?" Soviet asked, breaking his train of thought. "You okay, comrade?"

Britain nodded, "I'm okay now, thank you." Soviet gently put their foreheads together. Britain's face exploded with heat and a knot tied itself in his stomach. At the same time, it felt light. His palms got sweaty when Soviet held them gently.

"You can talk to me," Soviet whispered. "I'll always be here for you."

Britain smiled, "and same goes for you."

After a few long seconds, Britain closed his eyes and laughed gently, "this is so gay."

Soviet laughed as well, "what's so wrong about that?"

"Nothing, nothing," Britain said.

The two stayed like that for—what felt like—hours. They were both happy and calm. And they both didn't realize it, but both of them had feelings for the other.

Maybe one realized it.

And that one took action.

He gently placed his lips on Britain's, holding his waist tenderly. Britain was surprised, but liked this feeling. He held Soviet's neck, kissing back. The butterflies exploded in his stomach and his face was as hot as ever.

They pulled away after a short time, looking into each other's eyes.

Britain smiled lightly. "I liked that," he whispered.

Soviet grinned, showing his pointed teeth, "I did too." Britain closed his eyes, kissing Soviet again. The Salv smiled into the kiss, bringing Britain closer. He bit Britain's lip gently, not wanting to hurt the precious country in front of him. Britain opened his mouth and let Soviet's tongue slide in.

He explored the new cave, leaving no spot untouched. Britain always wanted to be the submissive one, but he was always dominant.

Soviet left a trail of kisses down Britain's jaw, licking at his neck. Britain let his head lean to the side, giving him more skin. Soviet moved the collar of his suit and licked at a certain spot that made Britain's breath hitch. He smirked and licked it again, getting a small, barely audible moan. He sucked on the spot, causing more airy moans. He bit down lightly, seeing Britain clench his jaw.

He backed away slightly, looking at what he did, "my, and you've never been submissive?" He looked into Britain's half-lidded eyes, "you give off such bottom energy."

Britain glared at him, straightening his posture, "not as much as you~"

Soviet rolled his eyes, "I bet no one's moans are as cute as your's." Britain gave up and hugged Soviet, blushing. "So," Soviet started, petting Britain's head. "Are we together?"

"If you want to be," Britain mumbled into Soviet's jacket.

"I'll take that as a yes."
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*When Britain (Britannica) was just discovered, it was by the Romans. (That was extremely simplified.)

Words: 1000