[fanfic] The kind of sins we pretend not to engage in 1/1
Title: The kind of sins we pretend not to engage in
Author: drcalvin
Note: I don't currently any free time orz But I still really wanted to write something. Thus, the cliche-fic (series? mebbe) was born. The theme of the day: Aphrodisiacs!
Summary: France spikes the punch! Still - if you close your eyes and pretend you're still in the army, does it count as incest anyway?
Warnings: Sex, incest, kind of dub-con, swearing
Rating: NC-17 / Adult
Pairings: Germany/Prussia + secondary pairing France/Prussia
Comments/Concrit: Yes, please. Not beta read, so feel free to point out spelling/grammar errors
It was such a brilliant idea. Crude, perhaps, but effective.
He'd invited most of the nations he regularly hung out with by choice or necessity. A new holiday, he'd claimed, to celebrate the splendid french cuisine. Yes, of course there will be samples!
What could go wrong?
An overly sweet Italian wine, fruit and soda - a few Euros.
A feast with enough french delicacies to tempt even the most picky nations - more Euros.
A traditional Chinese aphrodisiac, a few illegal party drugs (really, America should spend more time in California; France hadn't known him that mellow for years) and big brother's own secret mixture of herbs.
All in all, that added up to quite a lot of Euros - but what did he have a GDP for, anyway, if not to use it?
Italy Veneziano and Italy Romano rubbing themselves against him, frantic with lust...? Priceless.
If only he'd known that all he'd get for his troubles was a furious blow-job from Prussia, he'd stuck to feeding the lot of them baguette and leftover cheese.
The party was coming along nicely. Spain and Hungary had opened the dance floor, dragging a protesting Austria along. Switzerland unclenched enough to twitch his lips towards France in what might have been a smile.
And, alas, England was steadily drinking his way through France's wine collection. The poor nation had become quite upset about the reactions to his hints that he might also arrange a feast to celebrate British cooking. Although one should think, after all these years, he'd have stopped expecting a tactful answer if he asked America.
But, most important of all, his sweet Italies had just arrived!
"My dear boys! Veneziano! Romano!" France gushed and glomped the two nations, managing a quick grope before South Italy could knee him somewhere sensitive. "I'm so happy that you're here! Come along, you must be parched from the trip!"
"Ve~ Thanks for inviting us to your party, France! Oh wow, is that sculpture made of parfait? It looks like Grandpa's house!"
"Ah, observant as ever, Veneziano dear," France replied. "Now, if you boys want to have a taste, I have just the wine to go with it..."
Quickly hustling his secret guests of honor towards the dining area, France did his best to shield them from curious - and jealous - eyes.
Spain was safely accounted for, but Germany had slipped away somewhere a while ago. Even if he was quite peaceful these days and they usually had a good relationship... Well, Germany was still quite large. Spent far too much time carrying beer-barrels or engaging in other muscle-building activities for France's peace of mind, too.
"Hey, hang on! I wanted to talk to her, bastard!" Romano protested when Ukraine tried to greet them, and France swept past her and her glorious tracts of land with barely a nod.
"Ah, not to worry, I shall release you to mingle in just... a few..."
"Kehehehe! You can't drink this stuff like beer, West! Like, pretend its liquid cake and it goes down - so! Prost!"
Feeling his gut clench with worry, France stared at the scene before him. Germany. And Prussia. Drinking the spiked punch as if it was cool water on a blazing summer's day!
"I don't know," Germany said, looking into his mug with his usual look of either constipation or deep contemplation, France neither knew nor cared. Although, where the hell had the idiot found a mug of that size in the house? And why was he drinking something based mostly on Italian dessert wine from it?
"I just can't with these mixed drinks, really," Germany continued. Before France had the chance to relax at that statement, he proceeded to sweep the mug.
"Oh lord," Germany shuddered, "that was- I still need to get used to it."
"Macho potato! And birdbrain! What the hell are you doing here, huh?"
The two nations turned their attention from the alcohol. While Prussia scowled ferociously at Romano, Germany seemed to have learned to tune him out completely.
"Italy! Good evening!"
"Germany! I'm so happy to see you! And you took my advice!"
France twisted his head around so quickly that he was quite surprised nothing snapped. "Your advice??"
"Now what have you said, idiot brother?"
"Ah..." Blushing Germany moved away from the table. "It's nothing really. I just.... sometimes I feel like a change."
"You've lived on potatoes, beer and sausage since you were born!" France almost howled, futilely reaching out a hand to try stop Prussia from ladling up more punch. Since he'd always been an uncouth hellion, Prussia only poked his tongue out and then topped both his own and his brother's glass up.
"Exactly," North Italy chirped, "and when we were talking about how to keep fit and healthy, Germany realized that his diet isn't very varied! But he promised not to overdo it this time, just to try some new things too!"
He beamed at them all and Germany beamed back, while Prussia grinned and mouthed 'so damn cute!'. At least South Italy could be trusted to frown properly at the horrible news, or France would have felt quite ill, surrounded by so many cheerful idiots.
"So?" South Italy snorted with a well-practiced amount of disdain. "Who gives a damn if the macho bastard dies in scurvy?"
Stomping over to the larger nations, he took a glass and wrenched the ladle from Prussia. "The one thing France does well is food and drink! And you morons have drunk the stuff he mixed for us - without even appreciating it, ya bastards!"
"Oh, pipe down, farm-boy," Prussia sneered. "You if anyone could use some real beer, put some hairs on your chest. This stuff tastes more like that chocolaty goop specs drinks."
With that, he stole Romano's just-filled glass and clinked it against Germany's, who sighed and emptied the mug.
"You're not supposed to drink punch like that," France tried, but even as he began talking he knew the plan had fallen apart completely.
Those idiots must have amused themselves by the punch-bowl for a while already, because the level had sunk alarmingly low. Even if they were larger than either of his sweet Italian boys, the stuff was very potent. With Prussia guzzling glass after glass as if alcohol was going out of style and Germany emptying those huge mugs one after the other...
Any prudent Frenchman knew what to do in a situation like this:
Aim for plausible deniability.
"Not to worry, not to worry," France laughed, trying to pull Italy away, "I have a lovely sprightly Champagne I'm sure you'll just love! Why, I think those bottles are just by the pasta table."
"You have a-"
"-pasta table? Chigiii!"
"Big brother! Wait, brother, don't eat all the pasta without me, veee!"
"Italy, don't run on the marble floor! You'll slip!" Germany called at the rapidly disappearing nations.
"Oh, never mind them, West, their heads aren't big enough to fit your voice and pasta in at once. Here," Prussia ladled up the final drops of punch, "no good leaving the dregs, eh?"
"Oh, well... Prost. Ah, I really am sorry 'bout this, France." Fidgeting, Germany gestured to the empty bowl. "It was just the most, well, different thing I could find to drink."
"Oh, never mind, it's quite all right," France said, putting his blandest smile to good use. "I have plenty for everyone, ahahaha! Do try the couscous dishes, I think you'll find them more to your liking. Ahem, now, if you excuse me... think I hear someone at the door..."
Feigning nonchalance, yet still maintaining a healthy speed, France disengaged from Germany and Prussia before disaster struck. He'd calculated about three hours for things to really kick in, considering what he knew of the sweet Italie's drinking habits. Now, if one about tripled that amount, then divide the time by- How much did Prussia weigh, exactly?
"Hey, West! Look, he's got something green! Let's try that next!"
And how might the addition of another, say, six liters of mixed alcohol affect the potency of the drugs? France wasn't completely certain he wanted to find out, especially not if Germany might blame him for the results.
"Canada! Allô, Canada! I haven't been so happy to see anyone for ages. Come, my sweet boy, let me show you the gardens! I have a fish pond down in the south corner. You like fish, don't you?"
Despite a quite amazing amount of prattle, France hadn't manage to hold Canada's interest on the topic of his new gold fish for more than an hour. When the poor boy's stomach growled violently, he'd reluctantly allowed the younger nation to escape.
Now, France was sneaking around in his own home like a common thief, hoping to lure some nicely neutral nation away for a pleasant and very hands-off chat. Unfortunately, most nations expected less alibi-building and more molestation from France and where thus unwilling to join him for a few hours alone.
He'd almost decided to change his plan and hide in plain sight instead. Perhaps he could join in with the growing throng at the dance floor, that was nicely inconspicuous, what? Alas, just as he decided to do so, the hand of doom appeared and dragged him to his fate. Literally.
With a choked sound, France was brutally yanked into one of the dozen of little nooks he built for amorous guests (and hosts) seeking privacy. While a certain amount of roughhousing and groping was to be expected in such a spot, France hadn't quite expected to ever be on the receiving end of quite this forceful a seduction.
If it could even be termed seduction, what Prussia - It was Prussia? Yes, definitely his obnoxious cologne - was currently doing. More like a combined strip search and tonsillectomy, with a fair bit of wrestling thrown in.
"I'm, I- didn't know you felt this way, but- Mon Dieu!"
With a growl, Prussia tore apart his trousers, belt buckle and buttons flying everywhere, and fell to his knees before France.
"Now, dear boy, I'm quite flattered, but, ah, tomorrow you might-" Try to kill me, he didn't have time to say.
As soon as he was bared, Prussia's mouth closed around his cock as if he'd been a particularly tasty French sausage. Giving up on the (useless anyway) words, France leaned back and did his best to enjoy the ride.
More enthusiasm than finesse, perhaps, but Prussia certainly showed plenty enthusiasm! He hummed and sucked quite cheerfully, strong hands stroking France's thighs with just the right amount of firmness. Feeling as if he should reciprocate at least a little, France began petting the pale hair, noting how Prussia was almost feverish hot. The knowledge that the other nation was literally burning up with lust, that his blood must be boiling away what little sense Prussia had, oh, it was definitely a heady thought.
"Ahh, Prussia, yes, take me," he groaned, moving his legs apart to give the other better access. France was rewarded with Prussia gently stroking his balls, while nearly slobbering in his enthusiasm. He felt himself quickly grow to full hardness.
"Like it?" Prussia's voice reached him, grown rough and sexy from current activities.
"Oh yesss!"
"Mhm, that's good, you're so good, want you." His mutterings turned incomprehensible when he once again took France in his mouth, swollen lips sliding down the shaft in a way that made France quite weak in the knees.
Prussia's hands cupped his balls completely and sucked steadily, letting out a positively indecent noise of pleasure. It almost brought him off, right then and there. Only his pride as the nation of love and amorous skills helped him hold the tempest back. Even so, France bent over Prussia, clutching desperately at his hair and thrusting into that hot, eager mouth, all hesitation forgotten.
When those teasing lips drew back from his cock with a slutty little smack, France almost wanted to scream in frustration. Almost, because he recognized the smirk that played on Prussia's face as one intimately connected with sins and mayhem. And at the thought of being allowed to play with Prussia's other hole, well, what little remained of France's brain dribbled into his cock faster than you could shout le petit mort.
"Fraa~aance," Prussia said, nuzzling his cock and teasing his balls with his too warm hands. "'ve got a question for you, hmm?"
"Yes! Got lube 'n condoms," France panted, "right pocket, waistcoat and - ohgod do that again - left boot!"
"Yeah?" His head falling back, Prussia gave France a perfect view of just how red and swollen his lips were. Together with his enormously diluted pupils and the lovely way his usually pasty skin was gently blushed, he looked like a living doll to France. One with a mouth that just begged to be fucked.
"And where you keep the roofies, ya fucking fuckhead!"
Imagine you are driving along an open highway, the soft Provencal wind tousling your hair and your body filled with all the love and lightness of a French spring. If suddenly the ugly steel of a German tank materialized right before your car, the shock and horror that swept through your soon-to-be-scrambled brains might be similar to what France felt when Prussia's lustful hands turned into a vice around his most sensitive territories.
"What?".
"Ya'know, getting a stiffy when I spot Ukraine's fertile lands? Happens, even to the amazing me. But I hardly ever shove her against a desk and try to fuck her on the spot so WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SLIP ME!"
"Ahh, careful!" Wincing, France tried to pull away. The pain this caused, however, immediately made him abandon the plan. "I just- it wasn't meant for you!"
"No shit, dumbass," Prussia growled in a way that sent a quite new type of shudders through France's frame. "Kinda figured that out after Belarus threw my awesomeness into a fountain."
"Fo- fountain?"
"Very cooling things, fountains," Prussia agreed. "Also, dickhead, you need a new balcony door. And unless you start talking, the French heartlands are in grave danger, eh! Because I'm gonna rip them off and stuff them up your fucking ass!"
For a few painful moments, France dithered. If his plan got out, Germany might cause quite the mess; rouse the international community and god knew what else. On the other, and much more immediate hand, if he didn't reply, he quite feared Prussia would carry out his threat and screw the consequences.
"The punch! The PUNCH!" he practically howled when Prussia's patience ran out and he began to slowly twist his hand. "God, stop it, I'm telling you-"
"You spiked the punch? That sweet gunk?"
"Yes!" France whimpered, "I wanted Italy. It's not dangerous, it'll wear off soon, eh, ish. Ow, fucking let go!"
"West. He's also- You've drugged West!"
"Er? Yes, terribly sorry. Don' tell 'im?"
The growl Prussia released then had very little to do with humanity and even less with sanity. Thus France was quite surprised when he, instead of enacting some hideously painful revenge, just grabbed France behind the knee and yanked, easily felling him. The crack his head made upon meeting the carpet was nothing, compared to the relief at still finding himself in full possession of his manhood.
"You've got-" Prussia panted, "like, ten seconds. To blow me."
"What?"
"Can't think!" Bending over him, Prussia looked more than a little deranged. The white hair was sticking up all over the place, sweat slowly dripped off his face and his breathing was shallow and uneven. Still, even through the glaze of drugs and lust, his eyes seemed determined and his voice was a low, dangerous growl.
"Gotta find West, cuz he- I mean, I can act like an ass tonight and they'd all, oh fuck!"
It dawned on France that while talking, Prussia had been busy opening his own trousers. His cock strained against the white fabric of his underwear and he was almost shaking with lust as he began humping France's leg. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite as far gone as France would've preferred in a situation like this. For one thing, he was talking in entirely too coherent sentences - at least for being Prussia, who babbled craziness to himself half the time anyway.
"Gotta find West, before he fucks things up," Prussia muttered, clumsily pulling himself free. "You're such a fucker, ya french bastard. D'ya think happens if West tries to-"
"He'd get laid! What a disaster." The lack of impeding crushing doom, centered on his balls, really had an amazingly uplifting effect on the French psyche. Prussia rubbing himself all over him, shaking with barely contained desire, also helped. "What are you trying to do, anyway?"
"Idiot!" Prussia rose on all fours, leaving a stain of pre-cum on France's leg. And sweat, he noted, ick. Must be some side-effect from the combination of drugs.
A none-too-gentle slap brought France's attention back to the topic at hand. "Hey, you! Bring me off. Then I'll find West. Keep him safe, til this passes."
"Honestly, I've rarely seen a nation more in need of a good fuck than your brother," France began, only to find that not even insane lust could completely temper Prussia's killer-instincts. Hands that had such troubles opening a fly, he considered, really shouldn't be that quick when it came to wrapping around someone's throat.
"If he does something- if he fucking rapes someone," Prussia hissed, his nails biting uncomfortably into the sensitive skin of France's throat, "whaddya think that'd do to him? I. Won't. Allow. That."
"Let go, barbarian!" A quick grope between Prussia's legs and he let go immediately, much to France's pleasure. The way his eyes crossed and he practically quivered with lust proved that the anger wasn't more than skin-deep at this stage. Perhaps they would be able to have some fun, at least.
"Tsk," France said, fake pity oozing off his voice, "really, Prussia, you need to focus on the task at hand. Still running after your little brother; how the migh- "
"Yes. Yes! He's mine and I'll fucking look after him til the world ends if it pleases my awesomeness! Now open that useless mouth of yours and suck and-" An unholy light of evil inspiration lit Prussia's features. "Mebbe I'll consider not telling West what the hell you planned!"
That got his attention, alright. Although France knew that Prussia was capable of frightful things in his rage, they were both old adherents to the principle of "all's fair". A few consolatory beers and they'd be laughing about this within a few months.
Germany, on the other hand? Oh, the fuss he'd raise! Complaints and investigations and oh lord, he'd probably insist on informing the boss. Besides, it wasn't as if Prussia's little act hadn't been appealing in its own uncouth way.
"Deal," France said, "I blow you and you keep quiet. Oh, but" he raised a hand to keep Prussia from immediately trying to shove his dick down France's throat, "you repay the favor."
He mimed blowing someone, smirking as Prussia's color rose one smidgeon more. Trying to outfox big brother in bed, eh? He'd show him that it wasn't as easy as that.
"What? Are you CRAZY?"
"It'll actually help," France insisted, "you know I like to top, right? It's built into the stuff I used... honestly!"
"Whatfuckingever, you're just mad with lust for my incredibly sexy bod!"
"Keep telling yourself that," France muttered, rolling his eyes. At least the illusion kept Prussia quiet while he tore off his shirt and turned around, until they were in the perfect position for some soixante-neuf.
"Oh yeah, ohh finally!" Prussia was a lot less annoying when he almost sobbed with pleasure at France's carnal skills, than when he was threatening pain and dismemberment.
Naturally, he didn't last long. France had barely fit all of Prussia into his mouth when the other nation shrieked and came, shaking in a dry orgasm so powerful he practically over.
"Why- felt strange," Prussia said, laboriously rising up onto his forearms.
"You are capable of listening with your mouth full, I take it?" France sneered, lifting his hips pointedly.
At least the orgasm had tempered the old Teuton's ire somewhat, so he only made a rude gesture before once more wrapping his lips around France's cock.
"You can't really come, properly like," France explained, "until the aphrodisiac has run out."
Releasing France to mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'y'mean the date rape drug' earned Prussia a smack on the butt. Said butt, France couldn't help but notice from his position, was beginning to move up and down in quite the enticing way as Prussia really got into things.
His cock too, was filling up (not that it'd gone completely soft, not even when the rest of Prussia went boneless above him) so, in the spirit of earnest bribery, France put his hands to good use.
Thrusting into Prussia's mouth, his hand full of cock and his body high on the endorphins of a successful escape, it didn't take long for France to come as well. The taste really did seem to trigger something in Prussia, because he drank down the offering in a flatteringly vocal way and twitched in that odd, come-less orgasm once more.
Then, proving that he did share some of Germany's amazing bone-headed determination indeed Prussia swore, wiped his mouth and crawled away.
Buttoning up his trousers with one hand while flattening his hair with the other didn't turn out a completely successful endeavor and there really was no saving that shirt. Although France was willing to give Prussia a few points for style, with the nonchalant way he opened the door stepped out. That his wrinkled, sweaty appearance, deep flush and open fly gave away his recent activities like a neon sign didn't seem to bother him in the least.
"Oi! Midget!" Prussia hailed someone, and France made a halfhearted attempt to tuck himself in. There were ladies present in the building, after all. Wouldn't do to be too crass.
"You've seen my brother? To the kitchen? Sweet!"
France wiggled his fingers in greeting as Prussia evacuated the doorway, revealing his own messy self.
"Hello there, Latvia. Prussia and I were just- Well. This is an awfully cozy little room, if I may say so myself. Won't you take a closer look? Maybe another time then!" He called to the retreating nation's back.
The youth of today, so repressed... It really couldn't be healthy, France though. In that light, what he'd put Germany through could almost be seen as a blessing. Like a painful but ultimately invigorating tonic!
"I wonder if the boss will believe that line of reasoning..."
How much had Germany drunk? Prussia kept asking himself as he stumbled towards France's sprawling kitchen. He'd had fewer glasses, right? But then, he'd never had Prussia's awesome head for liquor. God knew this stuff kicked like a doped mule with a personal grudge.
"Fucking frog," he swore for the umpteenth time since realizing that he was more horny than was normal, or even natural. "Can't ever keep it in his pants and then he's gotta go and cause trouble for everyone..."
During this search only, he'd already have to fight off the overwhelming urge to throw himself at bloody England! The only thing that had stopped him had been the way the other nation was busy puking his guts out. The sight of that had held back even Prussia's overstimulated libido until reason won out.
At least England ought to be too out of it to remember how Prussia whimpered, clutched his crotch and smacked his nose on the door in his hurry to get away from the obscenely sexy, luscious, eyebrow-cursed little sod.
A vague voice of sanity told him to keep away from the more crowded parts of the house, so he continued towards the kitchens and old servants quarters. Hopefully, his idiot brother had the sense to do the same, otherwise his reputation would already be beyond ruined.
Something alerted Prussia that he was no longer alone. He wished he could blamed it on battle-honed instincts, but honestly, the mere scent of another person made his gut churn with intense arousal.
"West?" he called, looking around. The kitchen seemed empty, all gleaming steel and spotless counters. "Ya in here, West? Gotta talk to you!"
There; a definitive moan, from behind door he'd just discounted as another cupboard. Opening it led instead Prussia into a storage area filled with potatoes, onions and other foodstuffs.
And his brother sitting on the floor, about to do something quite unhygienic to a squash.
"Thank god, West! Never thought I'd be so happy to see you molest an overgrown cucumber."
"Brother!" Mortified, Germany dropped the vegetable and attempted to cover himself. Considering that he was sitting on his trousers and had been grasping his cock in the hand not holding a vegetable, it really was a bit too late.
"No worries, West, you ain't got nothing I haven't seen before," Prussia said, pulling a sack of potatoes in front of the door. If he could hear things from in here, well... There were experiences even the great Prussia preferred not to boast about.
"I don't know what's going on," Germany whispered, his voice almost trembling. "I was talking to America and then, it just... I don't know, I wanted to compliment him and then I wanted to- to-"
"Fuck his brains out? Something like that happened to me too."
Finally certain that the door was as secured as it could be, Prussia pushed down his trousers and quickly stepped out of them.
"Brother! What are you doing?"
Germany's voice didn't quite manage scandalized, he was pleased to note. It could even be interpreted as 'starving' or 'desperate'.
"What does it look like?" he countered, and lowered himself to Germany's level. Poor bastard looked half deranged; his hair sticking up all over the place and eyes that looked stoned out of this world. The hand held protectively above his cock had, probably unconsciously, begun moving again, so that Germany was fondling himself restlessly. The sight filled Prussia with a pulsing warmth he couldn't entirely blame on the chemical cocktail cursing through his blood.
"We've been drugged, West. Probably something France put in the drinks... but maybe he didn't expect anyone to drink as many kinds as we did," he added, silently apologizing for the lie. But it would only cause massive amounts of trouble everyone, them included, if West realized just how calculating this little plan of France's had been - and who it was meant for originally.
One thing if they could have solved things with a nice, tidy war, but nooo, the fun stuff was all forbidden these days. And if there was one thing Prussia hated more than France, it was goddamn committees. Minutes and chairpersons and bloody paperwork. Weren't even allowed to hit people over the head, no matter what they said to earn it!
"Shit! I knew it," Germany said. He bit the knuckles of his left hand viciously, and with a visible effort, took his other hand off his cock. "Then, we can just wait it out, right?"
He mightn't admit it often, but Prussia was fond of his little brother. Most of the time. "Don't play dumb! You know why I'm here."
"No! We can't-"
"-can't satisfy yourself, so you hook up with a bloody cucumber? Really, West?"
"I, uh, didn't want anyone to see..." Blushing deeply, Germany hugged himself, his fingers turning white with the strain.
Firmly but carefully, Prussia pried his hands away. "It's ok, West," he murmured, "it's really like in a war, isn't it? No women around, no clean or cute guys either, hmm? Just lemme, here. We don't have to talk about it afterward."
"No, I don't think..." As Prussia's hand curled around his cock, Germany groaned deep in his chest, though he kept shaking his head. He put a hand on Prussia's arm, but seemed unable to do anything further, whether encouraging him or pushing him away.
"Butt we don't do that stuff any more," he whispered slowly, hips rising to press against Prussia's palm. "You stopped asking and I-" He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed as his brother's hands found their grip.
"Wasn't any need," Prussia muttered. "I'm so awesome 've gotta beat the broads off with a stick and you're still mooning over Italy. Patience of a saint, that's my brother, eh?"
"No, no, oh god. You've no idea how much I want..."
"Wanted me? Well, I am awesome, kehehe- hurk!"
Either Germany's lust-fogged mind forgot what he'd been about to say, or Prussia's sex-appeal just became unbearably tempting. Whatever the reason, Germany put a firm hand around his neck and pulled Prussia closer towards him.
Their mouths smashed together; like always West was too tense, too fucking embarrassed despite all the years they'd played these private little games. It was familiar in a way, down to Prussia's knees already complaining that the floor of France's vegetable cellar was way uncomfortable.
Never had much comfort before, had they? In the trenches, up against a tank, in the glorious drunken aftermath of a winning battle or the bone-weary chill of a painful loss; there they'd met. Just to take the edge off, lacking other alternatives, because it was too fucking cold, or whatever other excuses he could come up with.
Noses bumped, their teeth slammed against each other and they'd probably end up stinking of stale onion after. And, like every time, Prussia never wanted it to end.
"Oh, brother, please!" Germany moaned, grasping Prussia closer with fever-hot hands. He attacked that spot on his collarbone that had always made Prussia's toes curl, worrying and sucking on the flesh with near desperation.
It was good, like this, great to finally get rid of clothes and just press his cock against another nation's flesh. No need to keep a plan in his head, no need to think. This close, the heady scent of West, the taste of his lips, his skin, was more than enough to drown out any disturbing smells from their surroundings. And they were so clean! Only West's own sweat staining him, no dirt nor oil nor blood.
"Mm taste so good," Germany whispered against him, scooting down until he lay almost completely beneath Prussia. "Feel 'ven better," and to underline his words, he wrapped a leg around Prussia, grinding their cocks together.
They didn't speak then, only touched and tasted, bodies moving in an old familiar rhythm. When Germany's breath hitched, when he pumped his hips against Prussia frantically, he held his little brother close as the glorious wave swept over him and followed helplessly two heartbeats later.
"What," Germany said, "what's going on? I still feel so hot. And..." he wriggled against Prussia, his semi-hard state undeniably present.
"Yeah, it doesn't seem to end properly. My third time tonight and I still feel like I could fuck half the EU with hornyness to spare!"
"Excuse me? And who have you been fornicating with!" Rising on his elbows, Germany did his best to glare forbiddingly at Prussia. That his gaze kept falling on his brother's lips, which caused a notable shudder every time, didn't help much much with the intimidation aspect. However, since Prussia had to fight to keep back the soppy smile at this unusual show of jealousy, he wasn't really in any position to complain.
"Ohhh, West, I didn't know you cared! Ow!"
Germany lent forward a little, none-too-gently biting Prussia on the cheek. "Who was it?"
"Ah, come on, I just had a wank. To hold me over, like."
"But... how did you manage alone?" Now, Germany's face showed his more common frown. "I tried and tried, thought I'd bloody rip it off! But couldn't, well, you know. That's why, uhh..." He flicked his head towards the vegetables.
"Thus cucumber? Sorry, squash. Ahahaha, uhm, ya see..." A moment of brilliant inspiration hit him. "I had a mirror! And this hotness doubled, who could withstand the sight, eh?"
God, sometimes he was just so awesomely smooth that he surprised even himself!
Germany seemed to find it a compelling reason enough, although he did grumble something about a frightening amount of narcissism, which Prussia glibly ignored.
Instead, he reached for his hastily discarded trousers, hoping that his lucky streak would carry through.
"Stop riffing on your amazing big brother, because - tadah! Look what I found! Not that it's difficult in this house, but anyway... Wanna give it a try?"
A small bottle of lube and two condoms dangled from his fingers. He couldn't understand why France would keep the stuff in his boots, but it made it remarkably easy to nick it. If the frog even noticed the loss, tonight had created enough blackmail material that he was unlikely to ever bring it up.
If Germany had been red before, he practically glowed crimson now. Thinking that he might have gone too far, Prussia was just about to smooth it over with a joke, when Germany attacked him with hands and lips.
"Uh!" Not that he was complaining, no, Prussia was just a little surprised. To feel West's hands grab his ass like that, to have him squirming and moving with quite that level of enthusiasm... it was, to put it mildly, unusual. Jerking each other off was usually as far as they got; not that muddy fields or chilly tents really inspired too advanced activities.
"I thought you wouldn't want to," Germany panted, leaving a burning trail of bruising kisses up Prussia's throat. "We've had so many arguments and then the, and, and you have Hungary and-"
"Whoa, wait? Who, Hungary? I thought you wouldn't- you fucking ran away from me the last time I even hinted-!"
"I was only forty! And a virgin!"
"You mean... Now you're not?"
For the first time since he'd made his unwise assault on Ukraine, an emotion other than all-consuming lust dominated Prussia's mind. Crimson rage that someone had dared to touch his Germany flooded him. And then - they'd cast him aside! As if Prussia's brother wasn't good enough for the entire fucking world!
"I'll kill them. You just," he made a vague gesture that meant something like 'make yourself comfortable there, while I strangle a brother-molesting ass.' "Really, won't take a moment. Oh shit - it wasn't specs, was it? I'll kill him twice for that, the snob can't ever keep his fingers off my things!"
"No, brother, hang on."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, West seemed close to smiling. Must be the drugs messing with his mind.
"Careful, you'll ruin these," he said, wrapping himself around Prussia and gently opening his hand. "We'll need them soon, I think."
"Oh yes, West," he murmured, struggling to keep hold of his rage despite the pleasant assault that was a naked West standing next to him. "You can, like, prepare yourself. I just have to kill someone, an' then it'll all be good again. Won't take a minute."
"You're not allowed to kill people, big brother. Not even," and the little bastard actually chuckled, "to restore my honor. Besides, it was completely mutual. And brief, just the once."
A horrible suspicion crossed Prussia's mind. "Not France?"
A shudder went through Germany at those words, and he shook his head. "No. We're not really compatible. At all. But... how come you don't mention Italy?"
"Because if you'd had Italy, you two would already be living together, raising puppies and all that rot. Oh, c'me on, West, you've wanted to marry Italy for some ages! No way you'd let him go, not without a breakup of epic proportions!"
"What you're saying... Is not completely wrong," Germany admitted, his voice a low shiver-inducing rasp in Prussia's ear. "But we're friends, still. Maybe it's all what we're meant to be. It's not a bad thing!" he protested, though how in the world he'd seen Prussia rolling his eyes from there, was more than a nation could comprehend.
"Really, I'm glad that he's still my friend. That's more important than any, uh, physical things."
"Fucking," Prussia clarified, feeling that they'd quite gone beyond the 'uhm you know' stage of intimacies.
"Then who was it? Not specs, not France and I refuse you think you've got such bad taste as to take it up with the yank. Switzerland's way too neutral to let anyone near his ass. If England ever got drunk enough to touch you, I doubt he could get it up before passing out anyway..."
"You know, we are still mostly naked," Germany pointed out, pressing himself against Prussia's ass to illustrate his point. "Why don't I just tell you tomorrow?"
"Why don't you tell me now?"
"Entertaining as it is hearing you decide why I can't have slept with various people we know, I'd much rather," Germany took a deep breath, his final words coming out in a nervous rush, "that you'd sleep with me instead. Please?"
A dozen glib replies flitted through Prussia's mind. You only had to ask, was a good one. Or: Do forgive, I forget how irresistibly awesome I am! That sounded cool too. But somehow, the words wouldn't form. Instead he found himself twined around Germany, quite overcome with need.
Deep kisses, because he needed to explore West's mouth intimately. As he would soon, finally, explore his body. Wanted him, was allowed again, to tease all the spots he remembered could make even West lose control.
They toppled to the side, Germany ending up halfway lying on a lumpy bag of vegetables, and Prussia kneeling above him.
"You sure, little brother?"
Nodding, Germany rolled over onto his stomach, spreading his legs in blatant invitation.
He wanted him. Oh, he wanted him so much that he thought he'd die, but...
"It's not just," Prussia squeezed his eyes shut, neither wishing to ask nor hear an answer, but. West was family. "Not just the drug?" Family that mattered.
The blond head shook. "I can't talk any more," Germany groaned, "not now, brother please!"
The way he looked, his strong shoulders tense beneath him, his eyes dark with need, it was too much for Prussia to resist. One hand easily popped the cap of the lube, while the other trailed down West's back.
"Swear you won't regret anything," Prussia demanded, his hand softly teasing Germany's cleft.
In mounting frustration, Germany banged his head on the vegetables. "Why'd you grow a conscience now?"
"Always had one," Prussia protested, "I just use it sparingly! Besides, this is a sin."
"Wanking together isn't?"
Well yes, all wanking was. But Prussia had happily managed to forget that for eight hundred years and wasn't about to remember now.
"Not as bad as this," he said instead, squeezing a little lube onto his fingers. Oh, goodie, it was France's own personal blend.
"I'll touch you, little brother." He pressed his slick fingers against Germany's opening with those words, silently pleased with how the other squirmed. Even more pleased that he tense up or try to move away, only lifted his hips, welcoming Prussia.
"I'll open your most secret places, I'll find out how you sound when someone is fucking you, and I'll be inside you."
"Yes," Germany answered, voice rising eagerly, "God yes!"
"Heh, long as you're sure." As long as you won't hate me tomorrow.
Either because they were both high as rooftops, or West had done a little warm-up on his own earlier, but he was perfectly relaxed around Prussia's probing fingers. The lube was top quality, a few drops making things nicely slick, so that his fingers easily slipped in, as if they'd always belonged there. Hidden inside West's warmth, feeling him to push back and groan so deeply, Prussia considered that perhaps this was exactly what he'd been made for, after all.
"Just open up for me," he whispered, nuzzling West's neck while scissoring his fingers. Lovely, soft firmness against his fingers, and that strong body bent before him just waiting to be plundered. Quite enough to drive a nation mad.
"Fuck," Germany rasped, moving back against Prussia's fingers, "please, brother, fuck me!"
"Naughty words, who've taught you such language?"
At that, Germany laughed, slightly breathless but full of mirth. "You, of course."
"Damn straight! A real man cusses, drinks and fights his way through life," Prussia huffed. God, he was so hard it was painful. Unless he managed to distract himself at least a little, he'd probably come just from lubing himself up. Unacceptable!
He almost fumbled the condom in his eagerness, but finally managed to control himself. Touching his cock was a chore, when all he wanted was to enter that willing hole and become one with his other half for a few perfect moments.
Finally, he was pressing against Germany, panting and swearing with the effort to take it halfway slowly. One hand on his brother's flank, to hold him steady, one hand guiding himself right and there - almost painfully tight, so hot and slick. His West was keening beneath him, he could feel him stroking his own cock frantically and in that moment Prussia slipped completely inside.
Perfect. Unbearably perfect. A thousand times better than France's unwelcoming mouth, a million times better than flighty, short-lived humans.
"Please! Move!"
Oh, West was talking, a stream of babbled pleas and confused endearments. Who was he to disappoint? Prussia drew out slowly, holding West down despite the others increasing desperation. He wanted to savor this moment, make it his own instead of a drug-fueled madness. And perhaps West understood him, or heard his thoughts - he stilled after a moment, his back heaving and free hand clenching into a hard fist, but he held still. Waited.
"My perfect little brother, so strong... always disciplined, just perfect."
Prussia grip had a bruising force, and he held holding Germany still, letting the anticipation grow even further, waiting on the edge of perfection. He was barely inside West, the tight muscles a delicious pressure around the very tip of his cock and his entire being demanding that he move, take more of that heath now!
But he had to feel it just a little longer; standing on the edge again after so long. Not about to charge into a battle to change his destiny, perhaps, but no less the tumultuous event for that. Absolutely terrifying - how he'd missed this feeling!
Prussia almost laughed with joy as he threw himself over the edge, slamming into the impatient body beneath him and loosing the last semblance of control.
Germany didn't disappoint, accepting the fierce rhythm eagerly. He pushed backwards when Prussia pulled out, his voice rising as their tempo increased, demanding more, deeper.
That sound, his brother's cries, pushed Prussia beyond endurance. An orgasm almost painfully intense grabbed him and he was falling into the light, quite senseless to anything but the sensations of his body. The perfect tightness around his cock, the way West's hips felt beneath his hands and the deep voice freely crying out his pleasure.
When he came back to himself, he was lying atop Germany's back, aftershocks still cursing through his body.
"'m dead," he told West's back, pressing his face against the soft skin. "Mmm, dead an' in heav'n."
Which was good, because if he was dead, nobody could demand that he moved. And Prussia didn't think he'd want to move for years. If ever again.
"As if they'd let you in," his brother muttered, pushing Prussia way from his perfectly comfortable resting spot. But then he lay down on his back again, pulling Prussia close and that was actually even better. How much more proof of heaven did he need?
"That was... good," West said, his awkward blush practically audible. "I mean. Really good."
"Bliss," Prussia agreed, bringing up his hand to rest against the muscled chest beneath him. "So good I amaze myself, mmyep."
"Hey! You're not falling asleep?"
Why did he sound so outraged? What else did he want to- oh. Laboriously, Prussia managed to bring a hand down and pull off the condom. Sure enough, there was the physical evidence of his sins.
"About bloody time," Prussia said, just before his hand came up against the source of West's discomfort. He was still clean and, worse, half-hard again.
"Oh. Damn."
"Quite," Germany agreed, with an bitter little laugh. "Seems we're out of synch? Maybe if you just lie there, I can..."
When Germany took a firm grip around his own cock and began moving his hand with all the enthusiasm of a man peeling potatoes, Prussia finally came out of his post-orgasm coma enough to sit up and glare at his brother.
"What are you doing, West?"
"Look, I realize that you're tired. I'm too, but I can't- it's too bloody hot!" Germany looked away, staring intently at a length of onions hanging near his head. "If you just stay there, I can rub against you and maybe I can, ah, finish. Four times was enough for you, no?"
"God. Sometimes, I think you've replaced your brains with muscles."
"Excuse me?" Germany's hand stilled in it's listless motion and he blinked at Prussia in confusion.
"Look, West. I'll use small words, cuz you're thick and I'm about to fall over. This here? Lube. Condom." He dumped both things on Germany's chest. "And this? Utterly fucked out brother. Think I'm so relaxed you could put your fist up there, honestly. So, you just take care of things while I rest."
Prussia pulled a bag closer; judging by the oblong lumps, it might be more of the squash. Well, at least it was appropriately shaped veggies. He threw a look over his shoulder and had the pleasure of seeing Germany looking utterly gobsmacked.
"Well? Get on with it, West."
"You'll let me? But..."
What? Oh. That. Prussia winced and wondered what he'd done to anger God this time, so that he had to explain a century old rant now. Instead of doing what he really wanted, which was cuddle up to his pleasantly warm brother and sleep a decade.
"What does it take for you to get into your thick head, that the rules are different for us?" Seeing that Germany still didn't appeared to have caught the clue, he sighed and rested his head on his pillowed arms.
"Other nations aren't allowed to top my awesomeness. You are," he admitted, hoping that any disgusting emotions in his voice could be blamed on exhaustion. "Occasionally!"
"Because I'm family?"
Hah. As if he'd let Bavaria anywhere near his ass.
"Or is it," Germany said, suddenly whispering quite silly things in his ear, "because you love me, big brother?"
"Shut up and get fucking, before I retract the offer," Prussia threatened.
Seriously scary words like that ought to scare the stupid bugger, but instead he began kissing Prussia's ear. "I know you're a nation of honor," Germany said, showing that he'd learned nothing at all from Prussia's awesome lessons. Honor was fine and well, except when it got in the way of winning.
Kissing his way down his back, Germany sometimes paused to massage Prussia, continuing until he reached his buttocks. The gentle hands were enough to melt away what little angry energy their discussion had roused. By the time large hands began fumbling around his opening, Prussia was so relaxed it was a miracle he didn't simply melt.
The hands stilled against his skin, only one finger moving in tiny circles against him.
"Brother."
"Mm?"
"Can we- Some other time, can we do this again?"
"Yeah, sure."
"No, I mean can we do this again?" Germany moved, his sex suddenly a blunt pressure against Prussia's back. Sounding almost desperate, Germany continued. "Because I want to touch you, want to explore you properly and do so many things, but I can't! I just need you, now, and it's too soon."
"C'me on, West, move back a little. No, stop moping!" He threw him an exasperated glance. "I just wanna get a good look at you."
On his back beneath the younger nation, Germany suddenly seemed larger than before. Almost looming above him. But he was still West, wasn't he? Too stiff and proper for his own good. Yet that very particular way he had of doing everything could also be strangely endearing, and with that thought, he opened his legs invitingly.
"Sure we can," he finally managed. "We'll do it like this too, now and then. And I think... think I'll need to explore you a bit better too."
"Oh yes, brother," Germany said, his voice sounding oddly thick. "Please do."
Then he moved his hands down, where Prussia couldn't see them. Soon, slicked fingers prodded against him. He had to close his eyes then, giving himself over to sensations of touch and scent, feeling Germany invading in the most intimate way.
Being opened felt strange after so long, but comforting too. And West's lips against his were always good, then those lips moving down to nuzzle his chest, his nipples - even better.
Prussia hadn't been lying when he claimed he was relaxed; as Germany pushed inside him, there wasn't a moment of discomfort, only warmth and a deep sense of rightness.
"Like it," Prussia admitted, purring the words beneath Germany's increasingly frantic pace. "Us connected like this, it's not bad."
"Oh, I'm glad," Germany managed, swallowing repeatedly. "So glad. It's good, brother, the best. You're the best I've ever known."
Then Prussia just held onto him, letting Germany fuck him as hard as he needed, enjoying this relaxed pleasure of being held and worshiped by the handsome man who'd grown out from under his own shadow. They would explore each other again, he thought, feeling little thrills of pleasure course through him at the idea. They'd touch and fuck and unite again and again, as long as they both still walked God's green earth...
When Germany collapsed on top of him with a loud cry of pleasure, Prussia didn't even need to check the condom to know that the drug must have worn off for his West too. That look of sleepy contentment couldn't mean anything else.
"C'me on," he said, gently stroking the sweaty forehead. "You gotta at least take off the condom, West. Here, lie on our clothes."
"Where'll you be?" Germany slurred.
"Right on top of you. Where I belong, kehehehe!"
"'kay. G'night brother. Love ya."
"Eh, say what? West?"
Germany only snored in reply. Halfheartedly grumbling about soppy brothers Prussia also bedded down as well as he could. His pillow Germany and his blanket the sad remains of his evening jacked, he nonetheless suspected that he'd sleep perfectly well tonight.
And tomorrow, he'd find out who'd dare to sleep with his West and castrate the bastards. Unless West could... persuade him otherwise. That wasn't too shabby an idea either.
/End
Comments & concrit much welcomed!
On a more personal note, if you wonder what I have been doing with my life, it's basically: Workworkwork + studies. Full time! Oh, and then the internet connection at home kinda blew and after that we only had one line on three people
Author: drcalvin
Note: I don't currently any free time orz But I still really wanted to write something. Thus, the cliche-fic (series? mebbe) was born. The theme of the day: Aphrodisiacs!
Summary: France spikes the punch! Still - if you close your eyes and pretend you're still in the army, does it count as incest anyway?
Warnings: Sex, incest, kind of dub-con, swearing
Rating: NC-17 / Adult
Pairings: Germany/Prussia + secondary pairing France/Prussia
Comments/Concrit: Yes, please. Not beta read, so feel free to point out spelling/grammar errors
It was such a brilliant idea. Crude, perhaps, but effective.
He'd invited most of the nations he regularly hung out with by choice or necessity. A new holiday, he'd claimed, to celebrate the splendid french cuisine. Yes, of course there will be samples!
What could go wrong?
An overly sweet Italian wine, fruit and soda - a few Euros.
A feast with enough french delicacies to tempt even the most picky nations - more Euros.
A traditional Chinese aphrodisiac, a few illegal party drugs (really, America should spend more time in California; France hadn't known him that mellow for years) and big brother's own secret mixture of herbs.
All in all, that added up to quite a lot of Euros - but what did he have a GDP for, anyway, if not to use it?
Italy Veneziano and Italy Romano rubbing themselves against him, frantic with lust...? Priceless.
If only he'd known that all he'd get for his troubles was a furious blow-job from Prussia, he'd stuck to feeding the lot of them baguette and leftover cheese.
The party was coming along nicely. Spain and Hungary had opened the dance floor, dragging a protesting Austria along. Switzerland unclenched enough to twitch his lips towards France in what might have been a smile.
And, alas, England was steadily drinking his way through France's wine collection. The poor nation had become quite upset about the reactions to his hints that he might also arrange a feast to celebrate British cooking. Although one should think, after all these years, he'd have stopped expecting a tactful answer if he asked America.
But, most important of all, his sweet Italies had just arrived!
"My dear boys! Veneziano! Romano!" France gushed and glomped the two nations, managing a quick grope before South Italy could knee him somewhere sensitive. "I'm so happy that you're here! Come along, you must be parched from the trip!"
"Ve~ Thanks for inviting us to your party, France! Oh wow, is that sculpture made of parfait? It looks like Grandpa's house!"
"Ah, observant as ever, Veneziano dear," France replied. "Now, if you boys want to have a taste, I have just the wine to go with it..."
Quickly hustling his secret guests of honor towards the dining area, France did his best to shield them from curious - and jealous - eyes.
Spain was safely accounted for, but Germany had slipped away somewhere a while ago. Even if he was quite peaceful these days and they usually had a good relationship... Well, Germany was still quite large. Spent far too much time carrying beer-barrels or engaging in other muscle-building activities for France's peace of mind, too.
"Hey, hang on! I wanted to talk to her, bastard!" Romano protested when Ukraine tried to greet them, and France swept past her and her glorious tracts of land with barely a nod.
"Ah, not to worry, I shall release you to mingle in just... a few..."
"Kehehehe! You can't drink this stuff like beer, West! Like, pretend its liquid cake and it goes down - so! Prost!"
Feeling his gut clench with worry, France stared at the scene before him. Germany. And Prussia. Drinking the spiked punch as if it was cool water on a blazing summer's day!
"I don't know," Germany said, looking into his mug with his usual look of either constipation or deep contemplation, France neither knew nor cared. Although, where the hell had the idiot found a mug of that size in the house? And why was he drinking something based mostly on Italian dessert wine from it?
"I just can't with these mixed drinks, really," Germany continued. Before France had the chance to relax at that statement, he proceeded to sweep the mug.
"Oh lord," Germany shuddered, "that was- I still need to get used to it."
"Macho potato! And birdbrain! What the hell are you doing here, huh?"
The two nations turned their attention from the alcohol. While Prussia scowled ferociously at Romano, Germany seemed to have learned to tune him out completely.
"Italy! Good evening!"
"Germany! I'm so happy to see you! And you took my advice!"
France twisted his head around so quickly that he was quite surprised nothing snapped. "Your advice??"
"Now what have you said, idiot brother?"
"Ah..." Blushing Germany moved away from the table. "It's nothing really. I just.... sometimes I feel like a change."
"You've lived on potatoes, beer and sausage since you were born!" France almost howled, futilely reaching out a hand to try stop Prussia from ladling up more punch. Since he'd always been an uncouth hellion, Prussia only poked his tongue out and then topped both his own and his brother's glass up.
"Exactly," North Italy chirped, "and when we were talking about how to keep fit and healthy, Germany realized that his diet isn't very varied! But he promised not to overdo it this time, just to try some new things too!"
He beamed at them all and Germany beamed back, while Prussia grinned and mouthed 'so damn cute!'. At least South Italy could be trusted to frown properly at the horrible news, or France would have felt quite ill, surrounded by so many cheerful idiots.
"So?" South Italy snorted with a well-practiced amount of disdain. "Who gives a damn if the macho bastard dies in scurvy?"
Stomping over to the larger nations, he took a glass and wrenched the ladle from Prussia. "The one thing France does well is food and drink! And you morons have drunk the stuff he mixed for us - without even appreciating it, ya bastards!"
"Oh, pipe down, farm-boy," Prussia sneered. "You if anyone could use some real beer, put some hairs on your chest. This stuff tastes more like that chocolaty goop specs drinks."
With that, he stole Romano's just-filled glass and clinked it against Germany's, who sighed and emptied the mug.
"You're not supposed to drink punch like that," France tried, but even as he began talking he knew the plan had fallen apart completely.
Those idiots must have amused themselves by the punch-bowl for a while already, because the level had sunk alarmingly low. Even if they were larger than either of his sweet Italian boys, the stuff was very potent. With Prussia guzzling glass after glass as if alcohol was going out of style and Germany emptying those huge mugs one after the other...
Any prudent Frenchman knew what to do in a situation like this:
Aim for plausible deniability.
"Not to worry, not to worry," France laughed, trying to pull Italy away, "I have a lovely sprightly Champagne I'm sure you'll just love! Why, I think those bottles are just by the pasta table."
"You have a-"
"-pasta table? Chigiii!"
"Big brother! Wait, brother, don't eat all the pasta without me, veee!"
"Italy, don't run on the marble floor! You'll slip!" Germany called at the rapidly disappearing nations.
"Oh, never mind them, West, their heads aren't big enough to fit your voice and pasta in at once. Here," Prussia ladled up the final drops of punch, "no good leaving the dregs, eh?"
"Oh, well... Prost. Ah, I really am sorry 'bout this, France." Fidgeting, Germany gestured to the empty bowl. "It was just the most, well, different thing I could find to drink."
"Oh, never mind, it's quite all right," France said, putting his blandest smile to good use. "I have plenty for everyone, ahahaha! Do try the couscous dishes, I think you'll find them more to your liking. Ahem, now, if you excuse me... think I hear someone at the door..."
Feigning nonchalance, yet still maintaining a healthy speed, France disengaged from Germany and Prussia before disaster struck. He'd calculated about three hours for things to really kick in, considering what he knew of the sweet Italie's drinking habits. Now, if one about tripled that amount, then divide the time by- How much did Prussia weigh, exactly?
"Hey, West! Look, he's got something green! Let's try that next!"
And how might the addition of another, say, six liters of mixed alcohol affect the potency of the drugs? France wasn't completely certain he wanted to find out, especially not if Germany might blame him for the results.
"Canada! Allô, Canada! I haven't been so happy to see anyone for ages. Come, my sweet boy, let me show you the gardens! I have a fish pond down in the south corner. You like fish, don't you?"
Despite a quite amazing amount of prattle, France hadn't manage to hold Canada's interest on the topic of his new gold fish for more than an hour. When the poor boy's stomach growled violently, he'd reluctantly allowed the younger nation to escape.
Now, France was sneaking around in his own home like a common thief, hoping to lure some nicely neutral nation away for a pleasant and very hands-off chat. Unfortunately, most nations expected less alibi-building and more molestation from France and where thus unwilling to join him for a few hours alone.
He'd almost decided to change his plan and hide in plain sight instead. Perhaps he could join in with the growing throng at the dance floor, that was nicely inconspicuous, what? Alas, just as he decided to do so, the hand of doom appeared and dragged him to his fate. Literally.
With a choked sound, France was brutally yanked into one of the dozen of little nooks he built for amorous guests (and hosts) seeking privacy. While a certain amount of roughhousing and groping was to be expected in such a spot, France hadn't quite expected to ever be on the receiving end of quite this forceful a seduction.
If it could even be termed seduction, what Prussia - It was Prussia? Yes, definitely his obnoxious cologne - was currently doing. More like a combined strip search and tonsillectomy, with a fair bit of wrestling thrown in.
"I'm, I- didn't know you felt this way, but- Mon Dieu!"
With a growl, Prussia tore apart his trousers, belt buckle and buttons flying everywhere, and fell to his knees before France.
"Now, dear boy, I'm quite flattered, but, ah, tomorrow you might-" Try to kill me, he didn't have time to say.
As soon as he was bared, Prussia's mouth closed around his cock as if he'd been a particularly tasty French sausage. Giving up on the (useless anyway) words, France leaned back and did his best to enjoy the ride.
More enthusiasm than finesse, perhaps, but Prussia certainly showed plenty enthusiasm! He hummed and sucked quite cheerfully, strong hands stroking France's thighs with just the right amount of firmness. Feeling as if he should reciprocate at least a little, France began petting the pale hair, noting how Prussia was almost feverish hot. The knowledge that the other nation was literally burning up with lust, that his blood must be boiling away what little sense Prussia had, oh, it was definitely a heady thought.
"Ahh, Prussia, yes, take me," he groaned, moving his legs apart to give the other better access. France was rewarded with Prussia gently stroking his balls, while nearly slobbering in his enthusiasm. He felt himself quickly grow to full hardness.
"Like it?" Prussia's voice reached him, grown rough and sexy from current activities.
"Oh yesss!"
"Mhm, that's good, you're so good, want you." His mutterings turned incomprehensible when he once again took France in his mouth, swollen lips sliding down the shaft in a way that made France quite weak in the knees.
Prussia's hands cupped his balls completely and sucked steadily, letting out a positively indecent noise of pleasure. It almost brought him off, right then and there. Only his pride as the nation of love and amorous skills helped him hold the tempest back. Even so, France bent over Prussia, clutching desperately at his hair and thrusting into that hot, eager mouth, all hesitation forgotten.
When those teasing lips drew back from his cock with a slutty little smack, France almost wanted to scream in frustration. Almost, because he recognized the smirk that played on Prussia's face as one intimately connected with sins and mayhem. And at the thought of being allowed to play with Prussia's other hole, well, what little remained of France's brain dribbled into his cock faster than you could shout le petit mort.
"Fraa~aance," Prussia said, nuzzling his cock and teasing his balls with his too warm hands. "'ve got a question for you, hmm?"
"Yes! Got lube 'n condoms," France panted, "right pocket, waistcoat and - ohgod do that again - left boot!"
"Yeah?" His head falling back, Prussia gave France a perfect view of just how red and swollen his lips were. Together with his enormously diluted pupils and the lovely way his usually pasty skin was gently blushed, he looked like a living doll to France. One with a mouth that just begged to be fucked.
"And where you keep the roofies, ya fucking fuckhead!"
Imagine you are driving along an open highway, the soft Provencal wind tousling your hair and your body filled with all the love and lightness of a French spring. If suddenly the ugly steel of a German tank materialized right before your car, the shock and horror that swept through your soon-to-be-scrambled brains might be similar to what France felt when Prussia's lustful hands turned into a vice around his most sensitive territories.
"What?".
"Ya'know, getting a stiffy when I spot Ukraine's fertile lands? Happens, even to the amazing me. But I hardly ever shove her against a desk and try to fuck her on the spot so WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SLIP ME!"
"Ahh, careful!" Wincing, France tried to pull away. The pain this caused, however, immediately made him abandon the plan. "I just- it wasn't meant for you!"
"No shit, dumbass," Prussia growled in a way that sent a quite new type of shudders through France's frame. "Kinda figured that out after Belarus threw my awesomeness into a fountain."
"Fo- fountain?"
"Very cooling things, fountains," Prussia agreed. "Also, dickhead, you need a new balcony door. And unless you start talking, the French heartlands are in grave danger, eh! Because I'm gonna rip them off and stuff them up your fucking ass!"
For a few painful moments, France dithered. If his plan got out, Germany might cause quite the mess; rouse the international community and god knew what else. On the other, and much more immediate hand, if he didn't reply, he quite feared Prussia would carry out his threat and screw the consequences.
"The punch! The PUNCH!" he practically howled when Prussia's patience ran out and he began to slowly twist his hand. "God, stop it, I'm telling you-"
"You spiked the punch? That sweet gunk?"
"Yes!" France whimpered, "I wanted Italy. It's not dangerous, it'll wear off soon, eh, ish. Ow, fucking let go!"
"West. He's also- You've drugged West!"
"Er? Yes, terribly sorry. Don' tell 'im?"
The growl Prussia released then had very little to do with humanity and even less with sanity. Thus France was quite surprised when he, instead of enacting some hideously painful revenge, just grabbed France behind the knee and yanked, easily felling him. The crack his head made upon meeting the carpet was nothing, compared to the relief at still finding himself in full possession of his manhood.
"You've got-" Prussia panted, "like, ten seconds. To blow me."
"What?"
"Can't think!" Bending over him, Prussia looked more than a little deranged. The white hair was sticking up all over the place, sweat slowly dripped off his face and his breathing was shallow and uneven. Still, even through the glaze of drugs and lust, his eyes seemed determined and his voice was a low, dangerous growl.
"Gotta find West, cuz he- I mean, I can act like an ass tonight and they'd all, oh fuck!"
It dawned on France that while talking, Prussia had been busy opening his own trousers. His cock strained against the white fabric of his underwear and he was almost shaking with lust as he began humping France's leg. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite as far gone as France would've preferred in a situation like this. For one thing, he was talking in entirely too coherent sentences - at least for being Prussia, who babbled craziness to himself half the time anyway.
"Gotta find West, before he fucks things up," Prussia muttered, clumsily pulling himself free. "You're such a fucker, ya french bastard. D'ya think happens if West tries to-"
"He'd get laid! What a disaster." The lack of impeding crushing doom, centered on his balls, really had an amazingly uplifting effect on the French psyche. Prussia rubbing himself all over him, shaking with barely contained desire, also helped. "What are you trying to do, anyway?"
"Idiot!" Prussia rose on all fours, leaving a stain of pre-cum on France's leg. And sweat, he noted, ick. Must be some side-effect from the combination of drugs.
A none-too-gentle slap brought France's attention back to the topic at hand. "Hey, you! Bring me off. Then I'll find West. Keep him safe, til this passes."
"Honestly, I've rarely seen a nation more in need of a good fuck than your brother," France began, only to find that not even insane lust could completely temper Prussia's killer-instincts. Hands that had such troubles opening a fly, he considered, really shouldn't be that quick when it came to wrapping around someone's throat.
"If he does something- if he fucking rapes someone," Prussia hissed, his nails biting uncomfortably into the sensitive skin of France's throat, "whaddya think that'd do to him? I. Won't. Allow. That."
"Let go, barbarian!" A quick grope between Prussia's legs and he let go immediately, much to France's pleasure. The way his eyes crossed and he practically quivered with lust proved that the anger wasn't more than skin-deep at this stage. Perhaps they would be able to have some fun, at least.
"Tsk," France said, fake pity oozing off his voice, "really, Prussia, you need to focus on the task at hand. Still running after your little brother; how the migh- "
"Yes. Yes! He's mine and I'll fucking look after him til the world ends if it pleases my awesomeness! Now open that useless mouth of yours and suck and-" An unholy light of evil inspiration lit Prussia's features. "Mebbe I'll consider not telling West what the hell you planned!"
That got his attention, alright. Although France knew that Prussia was capable of frightful things in his rage, they were both old adherents to the principle of "all's fair". A few consolatory beers and they'd be laughing about this within a few months.
Germany, on the other hand? Oh, the fuss he'd raise! Complaints and investigations and oh lord, he'd probably insist on informing the boss. Besides, it wasn't as if Prussia's little act hadn't been appealing in its own uncouth way.
"Deal," France said, "I blow you and you keep quiet. Oh, but" he raised a hand to keep Prussia from immediately trying to shove his dick down France's throat, "you repay the favor."
He mimed blowing someone, smirking as Prussia's color rose one smidgeon more. Trying to outfox big brother in bed, eh? He'd show him that it wasn't as easy as that.
"What? Are you CRAZY?"
"It'll actually help," France insisted, "you know I like to top, right? It's built into the stuff I used... honestly!"
"Whatfuckingever, you're just mad with lust for my incredibly sexy bod!"
"Keep telling yourself that," France muttered, rolling his eyes. At least the illusion kept Prussia quiet while he tore off his shirt and turned around, until they were in the perfect position for some soixante-neuf.
"Oh yeah, ohh finally!" Prussia was a lot less annoying when he almost sobbed with pleasure at France's carnal skills, than when he was threatening pain and dismemberment.
Naturally, he didn't last long. France had barely fit all of Prussia into his mouth when the other nation shrieked and came, shaking in a dry orgasm so powerful he practically over.
"Why- felt strange," Prussia said, laboriously rising up onto his forearms.
"You are capable of listening with your mouth full, I take it?" France sneered, lifting his hips pointedly.
At least the orgasm had tempered the old Teuton's ire somewhat, so he only made a rude gesture before once more wrapping his lips around France's cock.
"You can't really come, properly like," France explained, "until the aphrodisiac has run out."
Releasing France to mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'y'mean the date rape drug' earned Prussia a smack on the butt. Said butt, France couldn't help but notice from his position, was beginning to move up and down in quite the enticing way as Prussia really got into things.
His cock too, was filling up (not that it'd gone completely soft, not even when the rest of Prussia went boneless above him) so, in the spirit of earnest bribery, France put his hands to good use.
Thrusting into Prussia's mouth, his hand full of cock and his body high on the endorphins of a successful escape, it didn't take long for France to come as well. The taste really did seem to trigger something in Prussia, because he drank down the offering in a flatteringly vocal way and twitched in that odd, come-less orgasm once more.
Then, proving that he did share some of Germany's amazing bone-headed determination indeed Prussia swore, wiped his mouth and crawled away.
Buttoning up his trousers with one hand while flattening his hair with the other didn't turn out a completely successful endeavor and there really was no saving that shirt. Although France was willing to give Prussia a few points for style, with the nonchalant way he opened the door stepped out. That his wrinkled, sweaty appearance, deep flush and open fly gave away his recent activities like a neon sign didn't seem to bother him in the least.
"Oi! Midget!" Prussia hailed someone, and France made a halfhearted attempt to tuck himself in. There were ladies present in the building, after all. Wouldn't do to be too crass.
"You've seen my brother? To the kitchen? Sweet!"
France wiggled his fingers in greeting as Prussia evacuated the doorway, revealing his own messy self.
"Hello there, Latvia. Prussia and I were just- Well. This is an awfully cozy little room, if I may say so myself. Won't you take a closer look? Maybe another time then!" He called to the retreating nation's back.
The youth of today, so repressed... It really couldn't be healthy, France though. In that light, what he'd put Germany through could almost be seen as a blessing. Like a painful but ultimately invigorating tonic!
"I wonder if the boss will believe that line of reasoning..."
How much had Germany drunk? Prussia kept asking himself as he stumbled towards France's sprawling kitchen. He'd had fewer glasses, right? But then, he'd never had Prussia's awesome head for liquor. God knew this stuff kicked like a doped mule with a personal grudge.
"Fucking frog," he swore for the umpteenth time since realizing that he was more horny than was normal, or even natural. "Can't ever keep it in his pants and then he's gotta go and cause trouble for everyone..."
During this search only, he'd already have to fight off the overwhelming urge to throw himself at bloody England! The only thing that had stopped him had been the way the other nation was busy puking his guts out. The sight of that had held back even Prussia's overstimulated libido until reason won out.
At least England ought to be too out of it to remember how Prussia whimpered, clutched his crotch and smacked his nose on the door in his hurry to get away from the obscenely sexy, luscious, eyebrow-cursed little sod.
A vague voice of sanity told him to keep away from the more crowded parts of the house, so he continued towards the kitchens and old servants quarters. Hopefully, his idiot brother had the sense to do the same, otherwise his reputation would already be beyond ruined.
Something alerted Prussia that he was no longer alone. He wished he could blamed it on battle-honed instincts, but honestly, the mere scent of another person made his gut churn with intense arousal.
"West?" he called, looking around. The kitchen seemed empty, all gleaming steel and spotless counters. "Ya in here, West? Gotta talk to you!"
There; a definitive moan, from behind door he'd just discounted as another cupboard. Opening it led instead Prussia into a storage area filled with potatoes, onions and other foodstuffs.
And his brother sitting on the floor, about to do something quite unhygienic to a squash.
"Thank god, West! Never thought I'd be so happy to see you molest an overgrown cucumber."
"Brother!" Mortified, Germany dropped the vegetable and attempted to cover himself. Considering that he was sitting on his trousers and had been grasping his cock in the hand not holding a vegetable, it really was a bit too late.
"No worries, West, you ain't got nothing I haven't seen before," Prussia said, pulling a sack of potatoes in front of the door. If he could hear things from in here, well... There were experiences even the great Prussia preferred not to boast about.
"I don't know what's going on," Germany whispered, his voice almost trembling. "I was talking to America and then, it just... I don't know, I wanted to compliment him and then I wanted to- to-"
"Fuck his brains out? Something like that happened to me too."
Finally certain that the door was as secured as it could be, Prussia pushed down his trousers and quickly stepped out of them.
"Brother! What are you doing?"
Germany's voice didn't quite manage scandalized, he was pleased to note. It could even be interpreted as 'starving' or 'desperate'.
"What does it look like?" he countered, and lowered himself to Germany's level. Poor bastard looked half deranged; his hair sticking up all over the place and eyes that looked stoned out of this world. The hand held protectively above his cock had, probably unconsciously, begun moving again, so that Germany was fondling himself restlessly. The sight filled Prussia with a pulsing warmth he couldn't entirely blame on the chemical cocktail cursing through his blood.
"We've been drugged, West. Probably something France put in the drinks... but maybe he didn't expect anyone to drink as many kinds as we did," he added, silently apologizing for the lie. But it would only cause massive amounts of trouble everyone, them included, if West realized just how calculating this little plan of France's had been - and who it was meant for originally.
One thing if they could have solved things with a nice, tidy war, but nooo, the fun stuff was all forbidden these days. And if there was one thing Prussia hated more than France, it was goddamn committees. Minutes and chairpersons and bloody paperwork. Weren't even allowed to hit people over the head, no matter what they said to earn it!
"Shit! I knew it," Germany said. He bit the knuckles of his left hand viciously, and with a visible effort, took his other hand off his cock. "Then, we can just wait it out, right?"
He mightn't admit it often, but Prussia was fond of his little brother. Most of the time. "Don't play dumb! You know why I'm here."
"No! We can't-"
"-can't satisfy yourself, so you hook up with a bloody cucumber? Really, West?"
"I, uh, didn't want anyone to see..." Blushing deeply, Germany hugged himself, his fingers turning white with the strain.
Firmly but carefully, Prussia pried his hands away. "It's ok, West," he murmured, "it's really like in a war, isn't it? No women around, no clean or cute guys either, hmm? Just lemme, here. We don't have to talk about it afterward."
"No, I don't think..." As Prussia's hand curled around his cock, Germany groaned deep in his chest, though he kept shaking his head. He put a hand on Prussia's arm, but seemed unable to do anything further, whether encouraging him or pushing him away.
"Butt we don't do that stuff any more," he whispered slowly, hips rising to press against Prussia's palm. "You stopped asking and I-" He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed as his brother's hands found their grip.
"Wasn't any need," Prussia muttered. "I'm so awesome 've gotta beat the broads off with a stick and you're still mooning over Italy. Patience of a saint, that's my brother, eh?"
"No, no, oh god. You've no idea how much I want..."
"Wanted me? Well, I am awesome, kehehe- hurk!"
Either Germany's lust-fogged mind forgot what he'd been about to say, or Prussia's sex-appeal just became unbearably tempting. Whatever the reason, Germany put a firm hand around his neck and pulled Prussia closer towards him.
Their mouths smashed together; like always West was too tense, too fucking embarrassed despite all the years they'd played these private little games. It was familiar in a way, down to Prussia's knees already complaining that the floor of France's vegetable cellar was way uncomfortable.
Never had much comfort before, had they? In the trenches, up against a tank, in the glorious drunken aftermath of a winning battle or the bone-weary chill of a painful loss; there they'd met. Just to take the edge off, lacking other alternatives, because it was too fucking cold, or whatever other excuses he could come up with.
Noses bumped, their teeth slammed against each other and they'd probably end up stinking of stale onion after. And, like every time, Prussia never wanted it to end.
"Oh, brother, please!" Germany moaned, grasping Prussia closer with fever-hot hands. He attacked that spot on his collarbone that had always made Prussia's toes curl, worrying and sucking on the flesh with near desperation.
It was good, like this, great to finally get rid of clothes and just press his cock against another nation's flesh. No need to keep a plan in his head, no need to think. This close, the heady scent of West, the taste of his lips, his skin, was more than enough to drown out any disturbing smells from their surroundings. And they were so clean! Only West's own sweat staining him, no dirt nor oil nor blood.
"Mm taste so good," Germany whispered against him, scooting down until he lay almost completely beneath Prussia. "Feel 'ven better," and to underline his words, he wrapped a leg around Prussia, grinding their cocks together.
They didn't speak then, only touched and tasted, bodies moving in an old familiar rhythm. When Germany's breath hitched, when he pumped his hips against Prussia frantically, he held his little brother close as the glorious wave swept over him and followed helplessly two heartbeats later.
"What," Germany said, "what's going on? I still feel so hot. And..." he wriggled against Prussia, his semi-hard state undeniably present.
"Yeah, it doesn't seem to end properly. My third time tonight and I still feel like I could fuck half the EU with hornyness to spare!"
"Excuse me? And who have you been fornicating with!" Rising on his elbows, Germany did his best to glare forbiddingly at Prussia. That his gaze kept falling on his brother's lips, which caused a notable shudder every time, didn't help much much with the intimidation aspect. However, since Prussia had to fight to keep back the soppy smile at this unusual show of jealousy, he wasn't really in any position to complain.
"Ohhh, West, I didn't know you cared! Ow!"
Germany lent forward a little, none-too-gently biting Prussia on the cheek. "Who was it?"
"Ah, come on, I just had a wank. To hold me over, like."
"But... how did you manage alone?" Now, Germany's face showed his more common frown. "I tried and tried, thought I'd bloody rip it off! But couldn't, well, you know. That's why, uhh..." He flicked his head towards the vegetables.
"Thus cucumber? Sorry, squash. Ahahaha, uhm, ya see..." A moment of brilliant inspiration hit him. "I had a mirror! And this hotness doubled, who could withstand the sight, eh?"
God, sometimes he was just so awesomely smooth that he surprised even himself!
Germany seemed to find it a compelling reason enough, although he did grumble something about a frightening amount of narcissism, which Prussia glibly ignored.
Instead, he reached for his hastily discarded trousers, hoping that his lucky streak would carry through.
"Stop riffing on your amazing big brother, because - tadah! Look what I found! Not that it's difficult in this house, but anyway... Wanna give it a try?"
A small bottle of lube and two condoms dangled from his fingers. He couldn't understand why France would keep the stuff in his boots, but it made it remarkably easy to nick it. If the frog even noticed the loss, tonight had created enough blackmail material that he was unlikely to ever bring it up.
If Germany had been red before, he practically glowed crimson now. Thinking that he might have gone too far, Prussia was just about to smooth it over with a joke, when Germany attacked him with hands and lips.
"Uh!" Not that he was complaining, no, Prussia was just a little surprised. To feel West's hands grab his ass like that, to have him squirming and moving with quite that level of enthusiasm... it was, to put it mildly, unusual. Jerking each other off was usually as far as they got; not that muddy fields or chilly tents really inspired too advanced activities.
"I thought you wouldn't want to," Germany panted, leaving a burning trail of bruising kisses up Prussia's throat. "We've had so many arguments and then the, and, and you have Hungary and-"
"Whoa, wait? Who, Hungary? I thought you wouldn't- you fucking ran away from me the last time I even hinted-!"
"I was only forty! And a virgin!"
"You mean... Now you're not?"
For the first time since he'd made his unwise assault on Ukraine, an emotion other than all-consuming lust dominated Prussia's mind. Crimson rage that someone had dared to touch his Germany flooded him. And then - they'd cast him aside! As if Prussia's brother wasn't good enough for the entire fucking world!
"I'll kill them. You just," he made a vague gesture that meant something like 'make yourself comfortable there, while I strangle a brother-molesting ass.' "Really, won't take a moment. Oh shit - it wasn't specs, was it? I'll kill him twice for that, the snob can't ever keep his fingers off my things!"
"No, brother, hang on."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, West seemed close to smiling. Must be the drugs messing with his mind.
"Careful, you'll ruin these," he said, wrapping himself around Prussia and gently opening his hand. "We'll need them soon, I think."
"Oh yes, West," he murmured, struggling to keep hold of his rage despite the pleasant assault that was a naked West standing next to him. "You can, like, prepare yourself. I just have to kill someone, an' then it'll all be good again. Won't take a minute."
"You're not allowed to kill people, big brother. Not even," and the little bastard actually chuckled, "to restore my honor. Besides, it was completely mutual. And brief, just the once."
A horrible suspicion crossed Prussia's mind. "Not France?"
A shudder went through Germany at those words, and he shook his head. "No. We're not really compatible. At all. But... how come you don't mention Italy?"
"Because if you'd had Italy, you two would already be living together, raising puppies and all that rot. Oh, c'me on, West, you've wanted to marry Italy for some ages! No way you'd let him go, not without a breakup of epic proportions!"
"What you're saying... Is not completely wrong," Germany admitted, his voice a low shiver-inducing rasp in Prussia's ear. "But we're friends, still. Maybe it's all what we're meant to be. It's not a bad thing!" he protested, though how in the world he'd seen Prussia rolling his eyes from there, was more than a nation could comprehend.
"Really, I'm glad that he's still my friend. That's more important than any, uh, physical things."
"Fucking," Prussia clarified, feeling that they'd quite gone beyond the 'uhm you know' stage of intimacies.
"Then who was it? Not specs, not France and I refuse you think you've got such bad taste as to take it up with the yank. Switzerland's way too neutral to let anyone near his ass. If England ever got drunk enough to touch you, I doubt he could get it up before passing out anyway..."
"You know, we are still mostly naked," Germany pointed out, pressing himself against Prussia's ass to illustrate his point. "Why don't I just tell you tomorrow?"
"Why don't you tell me now?"
"Entertaining as it is hearing you decide why I can't have slept with various people we know, I'd much rather," Germany took a deep breath, his final words coming out in a nervous rush, "that you'd sleep with me instead. Please?"
A dozen glib replies flitted through Prussia's mind. You only had to ask, was a good one. Or: Do forgive, I forget how irresistibly awesome I am! That sounded cool too. But somehow, the words wouldn't form. Instead he found himself twined around Germany, quite overcome with need.
Deep kisses, because he needed to explore West's mouth intimately. As he would soon, finally, explore his body. Wanted him, was allowed again, to tease all the spots he remembered could make even West lose control.
They toppled to the side, Germany ending up halfway lying on a lumpy bag of vegetables, and Prussia kneeling above him.
"You sure, little brother?"
Nodding, Germany rolled over onto his stomach, spreading his legs in blatant invitation.
He wanted him. Oh, he wanted him so much that he thought he'd die, but...
"It's not just," Prussia squeezed his eyes shut, neither wishing to ask nor hear an answer, but. West was family. "Not just the drug?" Family that mattered.
The blond head shook. "I can't talk any more," Germany groaned, "not now, brother please!"
The way he looked, his strong shoulders tense beneath him, his eyes dark with need, it was too much for Prussia to resist. One hand easily popped the cap of the lube, while the other trailed down West's back.
"Swear you won't regret anything," Prussia demanded, his hand softly teasing Germany's cleft.
In mounting frustration, Germany banged his head on the vegetables. "Why'd you grow a conscience now?"
"Always had one," Prussia protested, "I just use it sparingly! Besides, this is a sin."
"Wanking together isn't?"
Well yes, all wanking was. But Prussia had happily managed to forget that for eight hundred years and wasn't about to remember now.
"Not as bad as this," he said instead, squeezing a little lube onto his fingers. Oh, goodie, it was France's own personal blend.
"I'll touch you, little brother." He pressed his slick fingers against Germany's opening with those words, silently pleased with how the other squirmed. Even more pleased that he tense up or try to move away, only lifted his hips, welcoming Prussia.
"I'll open your most secret places, I'll find out how you sound when someone is fucking you, and I'll be inside you."
"Yes," Germany answered, voice rising eagerly, "God yes!"
"Heh, long as you're sure." As long as you won't hate me tomorrow.
Either because they were both high as rooftops, or West had done a little warm-up on his own earlier, but he was perfectly relaxed around Prussia's probing fingers. The lube was top quality, a few drops making things nicely slick, so that his fingers easily slipped in, as if they'd always belonged there. Hidden inside West's warmth, feeling him to push back and groan so deeply, Prussia considered that perhaps this was exactly what he'd been made for, after all.
"Just open up for me," he whispered, nuzzling West's neck while scissoring his fingers. Lovely, soft firmness against his fingers, and that strong body bent before him just waiting to be plundered. Quite enough to drive a nation mad.
"Fuck," Germany rasped, moving back against Prussia's fingers, "please, brother, fuck me!"
"Naughty words, who've taught you such language?"
At that, Germany laughed, slightly breathless but full of mirth. "You, of course."
"Damn straight! A real man cusses, drinks and fights his way through life," Prussia huffed. God, he was so hard it was painful. Unless he managed to distract himself at least a little, he'd probably come just from lubing himself up. Unacceptable!
He almost fumbled the condom in his eagerness, but finally managed to control himself. Touching his cock was a chore, when all he wanted was to enter that willing hole and become one with his other half for a few perfect moments.
Finally, he was pressing against Germany, panting and swearing with the effort to take it halfway slowly. One hand on his brother's flank, to hold him steady, one hand guiding himself right and there - almost painfully tight, so hot and slick. His West was keening beneath him, he could feel him stroking his own cock frantically and in that moment Prussia slipped completely inside.
Perfect. Unbearably perfect. A thousand times better than France's unwelcoming mouth, a million times better than flighty, short-lived humans.
"Please! Move!"
Oh, West was talking, a stream of babbled pleas and confused endearments. Who was he to disappoint? Prussia drew out slowly, holding West down despite the others increasing desperation. He wanted to savor this moment, make it his own instead of a drug-fueled madness. And perhaps West understood him, or heard his thoughts - he stilled after a moment, his back heaving and free hand clenching into a hard fist, but he held still. Waited.
"My perfect little brother, so strong... always disciplined, just perfect."
Prussia grip had a bruising force, and he held holding Germany still, letting the anticipation grow even further, waiting on the edge of perfection. He was barely inside West, the tight muscles a delicious pressure around the very tip of his cock and his entire being demanding that he move, take more of that heath now!
But he had to feel it just a little longer; standing on the edge again after so long. Not about to charge into a battle to change his destiny, perhaps, but no less the tumultuous event for that. Absolutely terrifying - how he'd missed this feeling!
Prussia almost laughed with joy as he threw himself over the edge, slamming into the impatient body beneath him and loosing the last semblance of control.
Germany didn't disappoint, accepting the fierce rhythm eagerly. He pushed backwards when Prussia pulled out, his voice rising as their tempo increased, demanding more, deeper.
That sound, his brother's cries, pushed Prussia beyond endurance. An orgasm almost painfully intense grabbed him and he was falling into the light, quite senseless to anything but the sensations of his body. The perfect tightness around his cock, the way West's hips felt beneath his hands and the deep voice freely crying out his pleasure.
When he came back to himself, he was lying atop Germany's back, aftershocks still cursing through his body.
"'m dead," he told West's back, pressing his face against the soft skin. "Mmm, dead an' in heav'n."
Which was good, because if he was dead, nobody could demand that he moved. And Prussia didn't think he'd want to move for years. If ever again.
"As if they'd let you in," his brother muttered, pushing Prussia way from his perfectly comfortable resting spot. But then he lay down on his back again, pulling Prussia close and that was actually even better. How much more proof of heaven did he need?
"That was... good," West said, his awkward blush practically audible. "I mean. Really good."
"Bliss," Prussia agreed, bringing up his hand to rest against the muscled chest beneath him. "So good I amaze myself, mmyep."
"Hey! You're not falling asleep?"
Why did he sound so outraged? What else did he want to- oh. Laboriously, Prussia managed to bring a hand down and pull off the condom. Sure enough, there was the physical evidence of his sins.
"About bloody time," Prussia said, just before his hand came up against the source of West's discomfort. He was still clean and, worse, half-hard again.
"Oh. Damn."
"Quite," Germany agreed, with an bitter little laugh. "Seems we're out of synch? Maybe if you just lie there, I can..."
When Germany took a firm grip around his own cock and began moving his hand with all the enthusiasm of a man peeling potatoes, Prussia finally came out of his post-orgasm coma enough to sit up and glare at his brother.
"What are you doing, West?"
"Look, I realize that you're tired. I'm too, but I can't- it's too bloody hot!" Germany looked away, staring intently at a length of onions hanging near his head. "If you just stay there, I can rub against you and maybe I can, ah, finish. Four times was enough for you, no?"
"God. Sometimes, I think you've replaced your brains with muscles."
"Excuse me?" Germany's hand stilled in it's listless motion and he blinked at Prussia in confusion.
"Look, West. I'll use small words, cuz you're thick and I'm about to fall over. This here? Lube. Condom." He dumped both things on Germany's chest. "And this? Utterly fucked out brother. Think I'm so relaxed you could put your fist up there, honestly. So, you just take care of things while I rest."
Prussia pulled a bag closer; judging by the oblong lumps, it might be more of the squash. Well, at least it was appropriately shaped veggies. He threw a look over his shoulder and had the pleasure of seeing Germany looking utterly gobsmacked.
"Well? Get on with it, West."
"You'll let me? But..."
What? Oh. That. Prussia winced and wondered what he'd done to anger God this time, so that he had to explain a century old rant now. Instead of doing what he really wanted, which was cuddle up to his pleasantly warm brother and sleep a decade.
"What does it take for you to get into your thick head, that the rules are different for us?" Seeing that Germany still didn't appeared to have caught the clue, he sighed and rested his head on his pillowed arms.
"Other nations aren't allowed to top my awesomeness. You are," he admitted, hoping that any disgusting emotions in his voice could be blamed on exhaustion. "Occasionally!"
"Because I'm family?"
Hah. As if he'd let Bavaria anywhere near his ass.
"Or is it," Germany said, suddenly whispering quite silly things in his ear, "because you love me, big brother?"
"Shut up and get fucking, before I retract the offer," Prussia threatened.
Seriously scary words like that ought to scare the stupid bugger, but instead he began kissing Prussia's ear. "I know you're a nation of honor," Germany said, showing that he'd learned nothing at all from Prussia's awesome lessons. Honor was fine and well, except when it got in the way of winning.
Kissing his way down his back, Germany sometimes paused to massage Prussia, continuing until he reached his buttocks. The gentle hands were enough to melt away what little angry energy their discussion had roused. By the time large hands began fumbling around his opening, Prussia was so relaxed it was a miracle he didn't simply melt.
The hands stilled against his skin, only one finger moving in tiny circles against him.
"Brother."
"Mm?"
"Can we- Some other time, can we do this again?"
"Yeah, sure."
"No, I mean can we do this again?" Germany moved, his sex suddenly a blunt pressure against Prussia's back. Sounding almost desperate, Germany continued. "Because I want to touch you, want to explore you properly and do so many things, but I can't! I just need you, now, and it's too soon."
"C'me on, West, move back a little. No, stop moping!" He threw him an exasperated glance. "I just wanna get a good look at you."
On his back beneath the younger nation, Germany suddenly seemed larger than before. Almost looming above him. But he was still West, wasn't he? Too stiff and proper for his own good. Yet that very particular way he had of doing everything could also be strangely endearing, and with that thought, he opened his legs invitingly.
"Sure we can," he finally managed. "We'll do it like this too, now and then. And I think... think I'll need to explore you a bit better too."
"Oh yes, brother," Germany said, his voice sounding oddly thick. "Please do."
Then he moved his hands down, where Prussia couldn't see them. Soon, slicked fingers prodded against him. He had to close his eyes then, giving himself over to sensations of touch and scent, feeling Germany invading in the most intimate way.
Being opened felt strange after so long, but comforting too. And West's lips against his were always good, then those lips moving down to nuzzle his chest, his nipples - even better.
Prussia hadn't been lying when he claimed he was relaxed; as Germany pushed inside him, there wasn't a moment of discomfort, only warmth and a deep sense of rightness.
"Like it," Prussia admitted, purring the words beneath Germany's increasingly frantic pace. "Us connected like this, it's not bad."
"Oh, I'm glad," Germany managed, swallowing repeatedly. "So glad. It's good, brother, the best. You're the best I've ever known."
Then Prussia just held onto him, letting Germany fuck him as hard as he needed, enjoying this relaxed pleasure of being held and worshiped by the handsome man who'd grown out from under his own shadow. They would explore each other again, he thought, feeling little thrills of pleasure course through him at the idea. They'd touch and fuck and unite again and again, as long as they both still walked God's green earth...
When Germany collapsed on top of him with a loud cry of pleasure, Prussia didn't even need to check the condom to know that the drug must have worn off for his West too. That look of sleepy contentment couldn't mean anything else.
"C'me on," he said, gently stroking the sweaty forehead. "You gotta at least take off the condom, West. Here, lie on our clothes."
"Where'll you be?" Germany slurred.
"Right on top of you. Where I belong, kehehehe!"
"'kay. G'night brother. Love ya."
"Eh, say what? West?"
Germany only snored in reply. Halfheartedly grumbling about soppy brothers Prussia also bedded down as well as he could. His pillow Germany and his blanket the sad remains of his evening jacked, he nonetheless suspected that he'd sleep perfectly well tonight.
And tomorrow, he'd find out who'd dare to sleep with his West and castrate the bastards. Unless West could... persuade him otherwise. That wasn't too shabby an idea either.
/End
Comments & concrit much welcomed!
On a more personal note, if you wonder what I have been doing with my life, it's basically: Workworkwork + studies. Full time! Oh, and then the internet connection at home kinda blew and after that we only had one line on three people