[fic] What Friends are For
Title: What Friends are For
Author: etre_sans_age
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Prussia/France/Spain
Warnings: language, DP
Wordcount: 2,227
Summary: Reposted from the kink meme. For the prompt -
Bad Trio: Geographically, France was in the middle. This means double penetration of France. So far, Prussia and Spain have each gotten DP'ed by the other two, I thought I'd finish it up with France on the receiving end this time.
France should have been a woman, Prussia thinks. That was what he and Spain thought at first, before the pretty blonde girl they were both courting one day took off her dress in front of their shocked eyes and proved them wrong about an important fact.
But even so, he was pretty back then. Pretty and willing.
France is not as pretty, and definitely not so willing nowadays, proudly claims that his days of submission were over. Of course, he would say it is because his lovers could not please him, a somewhat oblique way of implying that he would rather not be reminded of his defeats, of being raped into surrender. They should know, they have done it themselves, and have suffered it as well, though not as brutally, nor nearly as often.
Tonight would be different, Spain believes. It is hard to get France drunk, to loosen his inhibitions the right way, but he is suitably inebriated now, giggling and falling over his feet. Spain cuts to the chase and carries him to his bedroom, while Prussia follows after eagerly, red eyes alight in anticipation.
It’s gonna be a good night.
He tries to deposit France onto the mattress, but it is difficult when the other nation is clinging to him and kissing him so. Prussia has to disentangle them, and he sneaks in a kiss of his own as a reward. Crooning sweet compliments, praising his beauty and culture and intelligence and talents, Spain runs his fingers through the long blond hair, until France closes his eyes and relaxes. Then France feels a dip in the bed as Prussia kneels beside Spain, hears them whisper to each other. He does not pull away when strong hands hoist him up onto his knees, and he purrs contentedly when they take turns kissing him, one mouth sweet, the other rough, but both so familiar and comfortable.
Eventually, Spain and Prussia stop, and he opens his eyes in surprise as someone, he is not sure who, grips his hair. Spain has lifted his t-shirt up and is now taking it off, so it must be Prussia who is now pushing him against the other’s bare tan skin. France nuzzles it, kisses it, feels it heat up even more as he makes his way down the muscled abdomen, following the faint trail of dark hair down to the waistband. His fingers feel suddenly clumsy as he tries to unbutton the interfering pants, but Spain helps him, and now there are only the boxers in the way. Laughing breathlessly, Spain leans back on his hands as France laves his tongue against the thin silky fabric, teasing him mercilessly. Finally, he yanks the boxers down along with the jeans, and Prussia watches, licking his lips hungrily even as France licks Spain’s erection, sucking the dripping head like a child sucking a piece of candy.
Spain murmurs his approval in between gasps and moans of pleasure - more, please - and now Prussia pouts and feels left out. He shimmies out of his own pants and underwear, and not knowing what else to do, he grabs France’s hair again, separating him from Spain.
“Suck me, too,” he growls, and France obeys without question, taking him fully into his mouth and humming as he works at Prussia’s length in slow leisurely motions.
Spain sits up and makes a huff of disappointment as he moves to Prussia’s side, pressing his arousal into pale hips, trying to get off. Noticing this, France grins and proceeds to pleasure both of them with his mouth, first one, then the other, then back again, mixing their unique tastes and textures and finding the result exceptionally delicious.
Suddenly, Prussia curses and shoves his cock into France’s throat while Spain is still inside, and the unexpected friction causes Spain to come as well. France almost chokes on the fullness and wetness occupying his mouth and he tries to pull back, but they are holding him close, and he is forced to swallow them both. When they finish, gasping desperately for air as their simultaneous orgasms fade, France finally frees himself, frowning and wiping at his filthy mouth and chin.
“That is not fair,” France manages to whisper, hurt that they would take advantage of him like this. He will forgive them, sooner rather than later, but he has his pride to think of.
“Lo siento,” Spain apologizes languidly, more intent on watching France lick his lips and fingers clean of the sticky white substance than feeling sorry. He loves seeing this filthy side of France, something he rarely gets to witness firsthand these days, and it consoles him to know that Prussia rarely sees this either.
“We’ll make it up to you,” Prussia says, and France glances up at him hopefully. They guide him onto his back, letting him sink into the pillows and downy mattress, and before long, they are kissing down the length of his body, thoroughly exploring his most sensitive spots. Sharp teeth latch onto one nipple, pulling and gnawing, while a warm moist tongue rubs at the other, and they tease him like this, with their wicked mouths and tormenting hands. France twines his fingers into both dark and light hair, but he is silent, only the slightest hint of the rapture he must surely be feeling in his increasingly rapid breathing.
Spain traces a damp trail with his tongue southward, to where his and Prussia’s clasped hands are pumping away. The other nation reluctantly lets go as Spain moves in to claim France’s vital regions, and with a frustrated grunt, Prussia ducks down and adds his tongue to Spain’s efforts. Now France makes a noise, a barely audible pleading, soft and sibilant, and Prussia has to hold his hips down while they gladly return the favor.
They have done this for France before, but not at the same time, and not as often as they should or as they would like. He tastes good on their tongues, hot and salty and decadent, and he feels right as well. When France gasps sharply and bucks out of their grip in the throes of his climax, Spain lets Prussia take him, and indulges himself on whatever leaks and dribbles out of the other nation’s mouth.
It is depraved, what they are doing and what they plan to do, but they are all friends, and have kept secrets between them for centuries. This will be just one more secret.
At last, France stills under their hands, breathing gradually reaching normalcy, and Prussia and Spain must hurry before they too come, and they have to repeat the whole process again.
Which actually may not be so bad, come to think of it.
France feels wonderfully weightless, coming down from a state of rapture, but his body hungers for even more, and that makes him uncomfortable, almost ashamed. No, this is enough, he attempts to think through the haze of alcohol muddying his thoughts. He shudders and tenses under their caresses, and tries to curl up onto his side, not even realizing that he is denying them.
They are losing him, Spain realizes. Gently, he curls his fingers into a lock of silky hair and kisses it, then moves to kiss France’s ear with a feather-light touch.
“Hey, you all right?” he murmurs kindly. “Tell me, France, it’s okay.”
Only a sigh, half muffled by the pillow.
Prussia leans down and kisses the exposed nape of his neck, reassuring him in his own unique way. “C’mon, we’re your best friends, always have been.” Partly a lie. “We won’t hurt you, promise.” Wholly the truth.
Cautiously, France peeks up at them through tangles of sun-bronze hair, his eyes intensely blue as he studies their expressions, and their hearts, which had been slowing, start to beat faster again. The two of them should be used to it by now, it has been centuries after all, but they are always caught by surprise, over and over again.
“Tell us what you want us to do,” Spain pleads.
Finally, France whispers, “Whatever you want, I want. As long as you stay with me afterward.”
Spain nods in assent. Of course. How could they leave him alone? He is not someone you can just ignore once he enters your life. Just ask England, his most hated enemy and closest ally.
“But we’re expecting you to cook us breakfast in the morning,” Prussia adds, smirking evilly. It is not like him to make things easy, well, not when he has an aching hard-on that needs to be taken care of right now.
“What?” France complains, though he is smiling a little as well. “I’m letting you two fuck me, but I have to cook, too?”
They look at him hopefully.
“Then you two better fuck me well and hard.”
Now he is straddling Spain’s torso, holding himself up on his hands as he grinds into the other nation’s lap. With an utterly satisfied grin, Spain leans back and enjoys the ride, murmuring whatever encouragement his scattered brain cells can pull together. Meanwhile, Prussia kisses a line from the back of France’s neck slowly down his spine, unexpectedly tender, bringing out a delighted sigh from France as he feels a raspy tongue massage the small of his back.
Prussia has been waiting for this since the beginning of the evening, and he valiantly reigns in his impatience as he follows the line of France’s spine further down, this time using a finger covered with cool lube, diving in and just gently touching the warm hidden flesh there. France arcs up and pushes into his exploring hand with a breathy “Dieu” and Prussia wonders how long it must have been since someone has last had him. Decades, perhaps, which will make tonight extra memorable for all three of them.
Helpfully, Spain grabs at the other’s hips and spreads them further apart, and Prussia licks his lips at the view, steadily massaging the skin before pushing in through the tightness, stretching him, trying to find that secret bundle of nerves. He must have hit the spot just right because France cries out in surprise, almost pulling away by instinct. Spain sits up in order to better embrace him, and pets his hair soothingly as he whispers comforting words.
“Ssh, hermano, you are doing well, so well.”
France is not able to answer because Prussia is taking over his mouth, kissing him hard, with teeth as well as tongue. It is enough to distract him as Prussia scrabbles for Spain’s wet cock with his slick hand, as Spain lifts him up and then pushes him back down slowly.
He panics at first, feeling something hot and blunt impaling him, but his body accepts it gratefully, and he relaxes bit by bit. Spain’s eyelids flutter at the initial pain and the pleasure that accompanies it, somewhat surprised to feel France taking in the entirety of his cock. They adjust to each other, France clutching him tightly even as he grips the other’s slender waist.
“M-more…” France whispers blindly, and that is all the encouragement Prussia needs.
France shudders as Prussia slides up into him from behind with a hissed curse. Wonders if he is out of practice already, but no, his muscles and nerves remember, and soon the aching fullness stretching him beyond what he thought possible transforms into something much more tolerable.
They move carefully at first, Prussia and Spain, bracing each other and trapping France in between them, their bodies closer than even siblings. It feels good, being connected like this, as if the circle has completed, and they want to drag the sensation out even more. Of course, France is making that a little difficult to achieve, all whimpering pants, thrusting hips, the tiny movements of a practiced lover enough to drive any man mad with lust.
With both of them deep inside his body, one or the other would always be rubbing against him just right, so that France is almost overwhelmed by the continuous wave of pleasure pushing him towards the brink. He feels them come, hears his name on their lips, and that breaks him, and he cries out when he reaches his climax.
Slumping against Spain’s drenched person, he gasps for air as his orgasm slowly fades away.
“Fuck… that was awesome.” And France and Spain have to agree.
They rest for a few minutes, feeling sated and lazy. Grudgingly, Prussia pulls out first, and France winces once more when he feels Spain slide out as well. He collapses bonelessly into Spain’s arms, and smiling, Spain gently lowers him onto the mattress. The two of them lick his belly clean of semen, and he purrs in delight at the luxurious feeling. Then he feels long fingers probe up his ass again, and he makes a questioning noise.
“Again?”
Spain laughs and shakes his head. “Not now, but later. We’re just taking pre-emptive measures.”
France looks confused until he sees the rather large object in Prussia’s hand. He is not able to do much more than gasp when the dildo takes the place of the fingers, and now he is being sweetly tormented until they next decide to fuck him.
For the first time in a long time, France can not wait.
[epilogue]
The next morning, the three friends share the most awesome breakfast ever.
Author: etre_sans_age
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Prussia/France/Spain
Warnings: language, DP
Wordcount: 2,227
Summary: Reposted from the kink meme. For the prompt -
Bad Trio: Geographically, France was in the middle. This means double penetration of France. So far, Prussia and Spain have each gotten DP'ed by the other two, I thought I'd finish it up with France on the receiving end this time.
France should have been a woman, Prussia thinks. That was what he and Spain thought at first, before the pretty blonde girl they were both courting one day took off her dress in front of their shocked eyes and proved them wrong about an important fact.
But even so, he was pretty back then. Pretty and willing.
France is not as pretty, and definitely not so willing nowadays, proudly claims that his days of submission were over. Of course, he would say it is because his lovers could not please him, a somewhat oblique way of implying that he would rather not be reminded of his defeats, of being raped into surrender. They should know, they have done it themselves, and have suffered it as well, though not as brutally, nor nearly as often.
Tonight would be different, Spain believes. It is hard to get France drunk, to loosen his inhibitions the right way, but he is suitably inebriated now, giggling and falling over his feet. Spain cuts to the chase and carries him to his bedroom, while Prussia follows after eagerly, red eyes alight in anticipation.
It’s gonna be a good night.
He tries to deposit France onto the mattress, but it is difficult when the other nation is clinging to him and kissing him so. Prussia has to disentangle them, and he sneaks in a kiss of his own as a reward. Crooning sweet compliments, praising his beauty and culture and intelligence and talents, Spain runs his fingers through the long blond hair, until France closes his eyes and relaxes. Then France feels a dip in the bed as Prussia kneels beside Spain, hears them whisper to each other. He does not pull away when strong hands hoist him up onto his knees, and he purrs contentedly when they take turns kissing him, one mouth sweet, the other rough, but both so familiar and comfortable.
Eventually, Spain and Prussia stop, and he opens his eyes in surprise as someone, he is not sure who, grips his hair. Spain has lifted his t-shirt up and is now taking it off, so it must be Prussia who is now pushing him against the other’s bare tan skin. France nuzzles it, kisses it, feels it heat up even more as he makes his way down the muscled abdomen, following the faint trail of dark hair down to the waistband. His fingers feel suddenly clumsy as he tries to unbutton the interfering pants, but Spain helps him, and now there are only the boxers in the way. Laughing breathlessly, Spain leans back on his hands as France laves his tongue against the thin silky fabric, teasing him mercilessly. Finally, he yanks the boxers down along with the jeans, and Prussia watches, licking his lips hungrily even as France licks Spain’s erection, sucking the dripping head like a child sucking a piece of candy.
Spain murmurs his approval in between gasps and moans of pleasure - more, please - and now Prussia pouts and feels left out. He shimmies out of his own pants and underwear, and not knowing what else to do, he grabs France’s hair again, separating him from Spain.
“Suck me, too,” he growls, and France obeys without question, taking him fully into his mouth and humming as he works at Prussia’s length in slow leisurely motions.
Spain sits up and makes a huff of disappointment as he moves to Prussia’s side, pressing his arousal into pale hips, trying to get off. Noticing this, France grins and proceeds to pleasure both of them with his mouth, first one, then the other, then back again, mixing their unique tastes and textures and finding the result exceptionally delicious.
Suddenly, Prussia curses and shoves his cock into France’s throat while Spain is still inside, and the unexpected friction causes Spain to come as well. France almost chokes on the fullness and wetness occupying his mouth and he tries to pull back, but they are holding him close, and he is forced to swallow them both. When they finish, gasping desperately for air as their simultaneous orgasms fade, France finally frees himself, frowning and wiping at his filthy mouth and chin.
“That is not fair,” France manages to whisper, hurt that they would take advantage of him like this. He will forgive them, sooner rather than later, but he has his pride to think of.
“Lo siento,” Spain apologizes languidly, more intent on watching France lick his lips and fingers clean of the sticky white substance than feeling sorry. He loves seeing this filthy side of France, something he rarely gets to witness firsthand these days, and it consoles him to know that Prussia rarely sees this either.
“We’ll make it up to you,” Prussia says, and France glances up at him hopefully. They guide him onto his back, letting him sink into the pillows and downy mattress, and before long, they are kissing down the length of his body, thoroughly exploring his most sensitive spots. Sharp teeth latch onto one nipple, pulling and gnawing, while a warm moist tongue rubs at the other, and they tease him like this, with their wicked mouths and tormenting hands. France twines his fingers into both dark and light hair, but he is silent, only the slightest hint of the rapture he must surely be feeling in his increasingly rapid breathing.
Spain traces a damp trail with his tongue southward, to where his and Prussia’s clasped hands are pumping away. The other nation reluctantly lets go as Spain moves in to claim France’s vital regions, and with a frustrated grunt, Prussia ducks down and adds his tongue to Spain’s efforts. Now France makes a noise, a barely audible pleading, soft and sibilant, and Prussia has to hold his hips down while they gladly return the favor.
They have done this for France before, but not at the same time, and not as often as they should or as they would like. He tastes good on their tongues, hot and salty and decadent, and he feels right as well. When France gasps sharply and bucks out of their grip in the throes of his climax, Spain lets Prussia take him, and indulges himself on whatever leaks and dribbles out of the other nation’s mouth.
It is depraved, what they are doing and what they plan to do, but they are all friends, and have kept secrets between them for centuries. This will be just one more secret.
At last, France stills under their hands, breathing gradually reaching normalcy, and Prussia and Spain must hurry before they too come, and they have to repeat the whole process again.
Which actually may not be so bad, come to think of it.
France feels wonderfully weightless, coming down from a state of rapture, but his body hungers for even more, and that makes him uncomfortable, almost ashamed. No, this is enough, he attempts to think through the haze of alcohol muddying his thoughts. He shudders and tenses under their caresses, and tries to curl up onto his side, not even realizing that he is denying them.
They are losing him, Spain realizes. Gently, he curls his fingers into a lock of silky hair and kisses it, then moves to kiss France’s ear with a feather-light touch.
“Hey, you all right?” he murmurs kindly. “Tell me, France, it’s okay.”
Only a sigh, half muffled by the pillow.
Prussia leans down and kisses the exposed nape of his neck, reassuring him in his own unique way. “C’mon, we’re your best friends, always have been.” Partly a lie. “We won’t hurt you, promise.” Wholly the truth.
Cautiously, France peeks up at them through tangles of sun-bronze hair, his eyes intensely blue as he studies their expressions, and their hearts, which had been slowing, start to beat faster again. The two of them should be used to it by now, it has been centuries after all, but they are always caught by surprise, over and over again.
“Tell us what you want us to do,” Spain pleads.
Finally, France whispers, “Whatever you want, I want. As long as you stay with me afterward.”
Spain nods in assent. Of course. How could they leave him alone? He is not someone you can just ignore once he enters your life. Just ask England, his most hated enemy and closest ally.
“But we’re expecting you to cook us breakfast in the morning,” Prussia adds, smirking evilly. It is not like him to make things easy, well, not when he has an aching hard-on that needs to be taken care of right now.
“What?” France complains, though he is smiling a little as well. “I’m letting you two fuck me, but I have to cook, too?”
They look at him hopefully.
“Then you two better fuck me well and hard.”
Now he is straddling Spain’s torso, holding himself up on his hands as he grinds into the other nation’s lap. With an utterly satisfied grin, Spain leans back and enjoys the ride, murmuring whatever encouragement his scattered brain cells can pull together. Meanwhile, Prussia kisses a line from the back of France’s neck slowly down his spine, unexpectedly tender, bringing out a delighted sigh from France as he feels a raspy tongue massage the small of his back.
Prussia has been waiting for this since the beginning of the evening, and he valiantly reigns in his impatience as he follows the line of France’s spine further down, this time using a finger covered with cool lube, diving in and just gently touching the warm hidden flesh there. France arcs up and pushes into his exploring hand with a breathy “Dieu” and Prussia wonders how long it must have been since someone has last had him. Decades, perhaps, which will make tonight extra memorable for all three of them.
Helpfully, Spain grabs at the other’s hips and spreads them further apart, and Prussia licks his lips at the view, steadily massaging the skin before pushing in through the tightness, stretching him, trying to find that secret bundle of nerves. He must have hit the spot just right because France cries out in surprise, almost pulling away by instinct. Spain sits up in order to better embrace him, and pets his hair soothingly as he whispers comforting words.
“Ssh, hermano, you are doing well, so well.”
France is not able to answer because Prussia is taking over his mouth, kissing him hard, with teeth as well as tongue. It is enough to distract him as Prussia scrabbles for Spain’s wet cock with his slick hand, as Spain lifts him up and then pushes him back down slowly.
He panics at first, feeling something hot and blunt impaling him, but his body accepts it gratefully, and he relaxes bit by bit. Spain’s eyelids flutter at the initial pain and the pleasure that accompanies it, somewhat surprised to feel France taking in the entirety of his cock. They adjust to each other, France clutching him tightly even as he grips the other’s slender waist.
“M-more…” France whispers blindly, and that is all the encouragement Prussia needs.
France shudders as Prussia slides up into him from behind with a hissed curse. Wonders if he is out of practice already, but no, his muscles and nerves remember, and soon the aching fullness stretching him beyond what he thought possible transforms into something much more tolerable.
They move carefully at first, Prussia and Spain, bracing each other and trapping France in between them, their bodies closer than even siblings. It feels good, being connected like this, as if the circle has completed, and they want to drag the sensation out even more. Of course, France is making that a little difficult to achieve, all whimpering pants, thrusting hips, the tiny movements of a practiced lover enough to drive any man mad with lust.
With both of them deep inside his body, one or the other would always be rubbing against him just right, so that France is almost overwhelmed by the continuous wave of pleasure pushing him towards the brink. He feels them come, hears his name on their lips, and that breaks him, and he cries out when he reaches his climax.
Slumping against Spain’s drenched person, he gasps for air as his orgasm slowly fades away.
“Fuck… that was awesome.” And France and Spain have to agree.
They rest for a few minutes, feeling sated and lazy. Grudgingly, Prussia pulls out first, and France winces once more when he feels Spain slide out as well. He collapses bonelessly into Spain’s arms, and smiling, Spain gently lowers him onto the mattress. The two of them lick his belly clean of semen, and he purrs in delight at the luxurious feeling. Then he feels long fingers probe up his ass again, and he makes a questioning noise.
“Again?”
Spain laughs and shakes his head. “Not now, but later. We’re just taking pre-emptive measures.”
France looks confused until he sees the rather large object in Prussia’s hand. He is not able to do much more than gasp when the dildo takes the place of the fingers, and now he is being sweetly tormented until they next decide to fuck him.
For the first time in a long time, France can not wait.
[epilogue]
The next morning, the three friends share the most awesome breakfast ever.