The book of Hetalia one shots

RusAme (NSFW)

I'm sorry it's just it's my FAVE, I have to 

WARNING NSFW DON'T LIKE IT DON'T READ IT THANK YOU SO MUCH 

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Alfred was in love with Ivan. That was true. It hit him like an absolute bolt from absolutely nowhere. It had been weeks since they'd had sex. He remembered the fact that the Russian was just slightly tipsy and oh so remembered making it clear that this would only be for one night and the two nations would go back to hating each other before submitting gladly to the kissing the American had interrupted him from. The problem arising was that it had been three weeks and Alfred couldn't focus. All he thought about was the Russians overly soft lips pressed up to his neck and to his own lips, to the strong hands that so easily held him close...and then upon thinking about it...Alfred found out he was in love. At first he'd thought his wantings were only sexual but over time it just got hard to think about anything but Russia. Ivan was intoxicating and Alfred couldn't stand it.

Alfred was staying with Ivan in the mans mansion. There were a series of world meetings happening around Russia and the man had offered him the ability to stay with him over the few weeks before the meetings would move onto a different nation. Alfred was laying in the guest room in serious need. He wanted the Russian, he felt like he was on drugs and was going through withdrawal, he wanted the Russians hands on him so bad. He spent about a half hour squirming before shaking his head and standing up. If he kicked him out he kicked him out, but he didn't care how he'd said he only wanted him for that one night, he didn't care that he had to wake the Russian up, he just couldn't stand being so close to the one he loved, yet being so painfully far away. Alfred slowly walked to the Russians room, throwing off the wife beater he was wearing back onto the guest bed and going to the semi-familiar room. He easily crawled into bed with the Russian, what with him being a surprisingly deep sleeper and found himself in his arms very quickly. "Ivan..." he whispered gently against him, lifting his hands to rest against his chest. 

Ivan had been fast asleep, resting in a rare bit of deep and dreamless sleep. His arms naturally engulfed the American and pulled him close the second the warmth was near enough to him. Something he'd never tell most people...he was a complete pushover for cuddling, especially when tired. The Russian remained unconscious however, softly nuzzling up against the Americans neck. Alfred did his best to keep a hold on himself, gently lifting his hand to his hair. It appeared he'd need to do more to wake him. He slowly gulped and leaned forward until his lips pressed to his cheek. Alfred had had plenty of lovers in his lifetime, and traditionally this woke him up so maybe it would work for the Russian he was pressed against. He slowly gave little soft kisses over his cheek, jawline, and neck, murmuring a quiet "Ivan..." no longer in a whisper but still kept soft. 

Ivan was quickly brought back to wakefulness with a little groan at the most sensitive part of his body being kissed at, that being his neck. He only vaguely registered Alfred at first, only really the pleasure that stirred its way sleepily into his stomach. At first he thought perhaps he was just  having a wet dream. But then it became clear that yes it was Alfred. Kissing him. 

/in his bed/. 

Ivan let off a surprised and groggy yipping noise, not finding the energy to pull his arms off just yet. "Alfred! What the hell are you doing in my bed?!"The Russian shouted. Yet still...his hold didn't fall. He hadn't meant to sound so rude or rejecting, as if he was dashing his hopes and wants before he even knew exactly what was going on. But it did.

Alfred could feel his chest tighten and he stared wide eyed, like a deer caught lost in the headlights. "I-..." he started. But the loudmouthed American couldn't find any words. How could he possibly explain? "I just...I...I miss you...I want you...." he whispered, his face heating darkly in shame and his eyes casting down to stare at the mans chest, his arms pulling from where he'd wrapped them around the burly Russian and holding lamely to his own shirt.