Despite his size, Ivan Braginsky was an extremely graceful man. Coming from Russia, a land infamous not only for the mystery and treacherous terrain, but also it’s stereotypical form of entertainment, ballets.
Over six feet tall, this goliath could be surprisingly stealthy, leaving world conferences when they became too tedious for his liking, sneaking up behind his prey (America, for the hell of it) and various other grievances that the nations complained of.
Except, sometimes one could not help but stare at such a beautiful man. Yes, beautiful. There were times when even his worst of enemies couldn’t help but gawk at his smooth, soundless footsteps, or the elegant way his arms would progress with his strides.
Finally anyone would be shocked to see him dance, it was just... Thats where Ludwig’s train of thought promptly ended, his brain had short circuited and he was at an inconvenience.
One, there was a tall, sexy Russian who, -only moments ago- had been the undisputed ruler of the dance floor.
Two, he was giving the poor german a rather heated look, or maybe heated was not the proper word for it it was an I want you look and it nearly made him blush.
Three, Ivan was beaconing to him with one, long finger, had the nation been drunker, Germany was sure he would’ve joined him without hesitation.
Filthy American music blasted through the expensive speakers in the back of the room. Ludwig vaguely registered the lyrics as something lewd and raunchy, it seamed to perfectly sum up the gestures he was receiving from Russia.
Ivan, who was obviously fead up with the German’s unresponsive behavior, strode toward him at a quick pace, not stopping until he was mere inches away from those icy blue eyes and soft, tempting, also utterly kissable lips. He started to sing,
“Here's the situation, been to every nation. Nobody's ever made me feel the way that you do. You know my motivation, given my reputation. Please excuse me, I don't mean to be rude. But tonight I'm fuckin' you~” His voice was surprisingly husky in the German’s ear, considering the rather higher pitched voice that sang it. Ludwig instantly picked up on the “nation” pun, he just going to laugh it off, calmly remove Ivan from his personal space, then hightail it out of there. He could feel the beginnings of arousal creeping in his stomach, it may have been a pleasant burn, but the last thing Germany wanted was a boner on the dance floor.
“Look, Ivan I’ve really got to-” They were so close, he was breathing the other’s breath, and he tried staring back as sternly as he possibly could while they were that close. Apparently, the look wasn’t stern in the least, because at that instant the Russian pulled him flush against his muscular torso. Still quietly whispering in Lud’s ear.
“You're so damn pretty. If I had a type then, baby, it would be you. I know you're ready, if I never lied, Then, baby, you'd be truth~” It was more than seductive, Ivan made every...