[ oneshot ] Christen [ France/Spain/Prussia, Hetalia ]
Title: Christen
Author: frostberryjam
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: France x Spain x Prussia.
Warnings: Threesome, double penetration, a little of bondage, tinge of dubcon initially.
Summary: Spain, Prussia and France decide to christen their treehouse in a rather special way.
Author Notes: You would not believe the difficulties I had with this fic. It was ridiculous. Through a series of unfortunate events I had to rewrite certain parts over four times because the 'good' versions kept getting deleted/lost somehow.
It made me kind of hate it, honestly. Added to that that it's my first threesome fic, my first DP fic and actually only my second Hetalia fic... it almost seemed this would never get done.
Anyway, frustrations aside, this was written for the Hetalia kink meme. OP wanted the Bad Friends trio in a treehouse getting it on with the bonus of a little bondage.
“I think we should christen it.” Spain enthusiastically declared as he 'toured' the small treehouse, which was suitable for little boy and company but a tight fit with three grown nations inside. The bed, the chairs and the table occupied most of the space available. Spain had wondered with the other two had insisted on such a large bed when a cot would have sufficed, but he wasn't one to nitpick.
After all it was theirs, and Spain was determined that they should celebrate.
“Christen it?” Prussia exchanged glances with France. The other's sudden devilish smile signaled he was having the same thought. Of course.
“Spain, mon cher, we are in agreement.” France took a step forward. Spain was caught off guard as his brother's arms hooked around his waist and pulled him back into France's solid frame. Confused, he lifted his head with a quizzical smile up at the blond. “¿Si? ¿Y entonces? ¿Que hacemos? ¿We get a wine bottle and smash it against the tree?”
France was aware of Prussia moving around out of their sight, satisfied the other nation was pulling up the rope ladder to avoid unwanted visitors. (Russia kept trying to get into their treehouse, damn it, but he was too heavy to climb the tree without a ladder, green branches snapping under his bulky weight.) He kept one arm circling Spain's hips and used the free hand to hold the brunette's chin and thumb his lower lip. A flicker of something other than confusion passed through Spain's lovely eyes.
“No. Something a little more special than that.” He angled their faces correctly, awkward and hot as hell to kiss someone from behind. France swept his tongue past the soft lips, hand instinctively sliding under Spain's shirt, rubbing his stomach and then reaching to roll a nipple. Spain wasn't struggling, but he was tense.
Spain cried into France's mouth when Prussia introduced himself the fray by pushing up the shirt high and lowering his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. With a dark chuckle he sucked hard enough to mark the skin.
The Spaniard jerked at the flash of pain/pleasure, trying to push his friends away simultaneously, lungs on fire from lack of oxygen. “Wait, paren, paren! Here? You want to do that here?” In the treehouse? Of all places? What the hell were they going to do if the house wasn't sturdy? (even though Denmark had been the one to build it for them; still.)
France's breath was rough, gripping Spain's elbows back to keep him still. There wasn't going to be a moment for doubts of protests. “Here.”
“Now.” Prussia grinned with a hint of sharp fangs, a smile that might have sent other Nations scurrying for cover. He held a length of rope. Spain's eyes widened.
“Uhm..."
"Uhm." He repeated anxiously when the rope was transferred to France and quicker than Spain could blink, felt the material sliding around his wrists, tightening. He felt a shiver of premonition of what was going to happen to him. "I don't think I like this."
Prussia nipped his earlobe, hands on Spain's bare hips, sandwiched between the two males. "You will."
The Spaniard was starting to realize why the large bed had been so adamantly fought for despite the impractically of it in such a tiny space. "I think--"
"Don't think." France tested the bonds, wondering where Prussia had found rope. The knots were solid, with enough give that Spain wouldn't suffer undue stiffness after they had fun.
"You should listen to the pervert. He hardly ever thinks with anything but his cock." Prussia drawled, holding a knife. Where from, who knew. Buttons began clattering to the floor, threads cut, and Spain might have inquired why he was destroying a perfectly good shirt except he was in no position to do that, not when the cool edge of the blade rasped down and brushed against his skin with too much frequency to be accidental.
"... I will take that as a compliment, Gilbert." The oldest nation returned with veiled irritation, and Spain shivered at the hot breath on his neck. Suddenly being between the two men was alarming for other less pleasant reasons.
What was better? Being their object of lust or being in the middle while an argument broke out?
Spain moistened his parched lips and stared at Prussia. "Kiss me?"
Caught off guard, Prussia's attention swung from glaring smugly at France to Spain. A satisfied, possessive smile scrolled across his mouth. He leaned closer, intently studying the green eyes outlined with sooty eyelashes. His fingertips followed the line of the tanned jaw and Spain leaned into the touch, breath faltering as he felt a different pair of hands begin working at undoing his pants.
Prussia licked his mouth, tongue tracing his lower lip and then pushing inside. The Germanic nation slid his palms into Spain's hair, fingers grasping the wavy strands as the kiss deepened, tongues rubbing together. Unaware that the knife had been transferred to France, Spain pressed closer to the man in front of him.
"Clothes, Messieurs. Otherwise this will not quite work." France jealously regarded the play fight of tongues, bare down to his pants, boots having been discarded. The switch knife had been put aside and he was unhappy about apparently being forgotten even if the sight of white skin against dark made his groin ache. He unbuckled his belt as Prussia finally retreated, licking his lips languidly, still tasting the Spaniard.
"For once, he's actually saying something sensible." He acknowledged, eyes glittering hungrily. Spain stumbled and fell backwards as Prussia gave him a brusque shove. Spain grit his teeth, expecting pain from the fall -- but he landed on something soft. The bed. It groaned under the sudden weight, just like his muscles protested at the unnatural position of having his hands bound behind his back.
Even easy-going Spain wasn't entirely pleased with being put into such a vulnerable position. He squirmed, trying to sit up, and suddenly stopped to watch as Prussia and France began undressing. His mouth dried up, pupils dilated with arousal and interest as more and more flesh was revealed. He pressed his thighs together unconsciously, trying to give himself relief.
Prussia was whipcord lean strength, skin pale and slathered with faded scars, sword and bullet alike leaving their mark on his body even if the details of where and when and why were forgotten by human history. So did France have his share of cicatrix, as they all did, as did Spain, studying his brother mutely. Some of those scars had been left there by him.
Spain ducked his head, staring at the floor with a distant expression.
“You cannot be crying?” The bed shifted as France sat next to him, movements lithe and purposeful. He urged Spain to look up at him, checking his face. There were no tears gleaming in Spain's gaze, but he seemed just as lost. “Ma pauvre beaute. Forget all that troublesome business.” The long, rosy-golden fingers danced down his throat, to his chest, nails flicking against the pebbled nipples as France urged Spain to lean against him. He rubbed the brunette's stomach in a gesture that was both soothing and seductive as Prussia rolled his eyes silently and removed Spain's boots.
Spain pressed his face against the blonde's neck, inhaling the complex scent of Francis; cigarette, wine, fresh bread and something faintly sweet that made him venture to lick France's throat, seeking to identify that last elusive element. All he tasted was sweat, pure and salty that said as much as the hard cock pressing into his hip that France wanted him.
He felt hands remove everything until he was naked below the waist, bare but for the white shirt that gaped open after having been robbed of the buttons, and then rough material against his legs as Prussia joined on his other side. Typical Prussia. Still wanting to prove he was better by keeping his pants on. Spain was drawn down on the bed by four hands, one set more gentle than the other but both with licentious intent. Two pairs of very different eyes stared down at him.
Spain flushed. The color spread from his cheeks and down, vivid even under his sun-kissed skin. He pressed his thighs together again and France chuckled. His hand fluttered down to carefully push the Spaniard's legs apart, causing Spain to shiver with want when his elegant fingers curved around his erection.
"How are we going to do this?" France asked Prussia as his hand began moving patiently up and down Spain's flesh, grip too slack to provide release. Madness would come before that. He chuckled, confident of his luck. After all, luck was a woman, and women loved him. "Shall we flip a coin for it?"
"...and they call your people 'great lovers'." Prussia scoffed, pants hanging low on his hips and undone so that he could hold himself in hand and mimic France's rhythm.
Spain released a harassed breath, secretly wishing Prussia would move closer so that he could sweep his tongue over the wetness gathering already at the head of his cock.
"Do I get a choice in this?" He inquired in a carefully measured tone that he sometimes used on South Italy.
Immediately he recognized his mistake as both turned to look at him with interested expressions. France's smile had grown into a full blown smirk. "Who do you want more, Espagne?"
Even Spain recognized the folly in answering that question. He swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly desert-dry mouth. He tried to wiggle away from his old friend, only to suddenly moan as the blond's grip tightened, massaging his cock. The brunet turned his head to the side only to find Prussia staring down at him with the same avid interest.
“It's me, right? You want me to fuck you hard." The Germanic nation purred, carding calloused fingers through the Spanish man's hair, snaring the strands and tugging at them.
Spain was quite effectively caught from both ends. Ay, dios mio.
“I-I don't…” He stuttered, searching for an answer and coming up blank. All his blood seemed to be rushing South, leaving his brain scrambling for two wits to rub together.
“Can't seem to make up his mind, can he?" France mused to Prussia, meeting the man's eyes and passing along a subtle suggestion. "He wants us both too much.”
Prussia tightened his grip, staring down at the older nation's flushed face before a chuckle rose from him. "Let's be nice and give him what he wants, then."
Considering the personal importance that the conversation held for him, Spain did his best to try to follow along. But then lips crashed down onto his own, victoriously drawing his lower lip in between sharp teeth. Crimson eyes flashed with triumph, effectively distracting Spain from noticing that France had withdrawn from the bed and was out of view. He fought as good as he got, feeling those war-roughened fingers move down his chest and outline his ribs, thumbs pressing into muscle and rubbing scars with approval until Spain achieved control of the kiss.
Prussia didn't like that. One hand still remained in Spain's hair. The bound man yelped as his scalp burned with pain. He frowned unhappily at his lover. "That's childish, Gilbert. Knock it off."
"The man has no sense of honor, droit? Play nicely." The bed dipped under France's weight as he rejoined the fray, not so kindly shoving Prussia out of the way. The only reason it didn't all dissolve into an immediate fistfight was the small plastic bottle France carried in hand.
"We are going to turn you over now," was all the warning Spain got before hands flipped him onto his side and then onto his stomach.
"Hijos de la gran--" Spain nearly swore, blood flow resuming into his bound arms, which had begun to grow lifeless from being twisted back and laid on. He tried to work his hands free but the knots were only deceptively loose. There was no way he was getting out of them by himself. He felt someone open his legs again and move in between the emptied space.
Sensual hands smoothed down his back, rubbing his arms. Smell of freshly cut roses. France. Which meant the person spreading him open had to be Prussia. He almost whimpered, both in eagerness and worry.
“Shhh. Je t'aime, petit frere.” Knowing lips kissed his nape, moved up to nuzzle the curve of his head. ‘I love you, little brother.' Spain understood, turning his face so that his cheek lay against the bed, catching a glimpse of golden hair. Prussia touched an oil-slicked finger against his entrance, circling it once before slipping the tip inside and continuing slowly but without pause.
France changed positions, kneeling in front of both. There was no need to ask or demand. Spain lifted his face and kissed the head of the weeping erection placed within his reach. Royal blue eyes observed avidly as a lovely pink tongue slid across his flesh, making France's abdomen tighten as Spain laved a wet path down the organ, tasting thoroughly even as Prussia slipped a second digit into him.
The former Teutonic Knight made sedulous scissoring motions with his fingers even as he scowled across the bound nation at France.
France utterly ignored him, petting Spain's hair encouragingly, breathing uneven as he murmured no doubt filthy things in French in a loving tone, which Prussia couldn't understand. Irked, he didn't wait long nor was he kind when he shoved a third finger into Spain, satisfied by the startled, not displeased gasp the man made in reply.
“T-three?” Two seemed enough to Spain, cheek pressed against France's thigh as he tried to breathe, not an easy task in his position. Three was borderline excessive. He shut his eyes when Prussia forewent using words to answer him and instead stretched him deeper and harder until he found the spot that made Spain suck his breath in and hold it. The muscles of his back flexed with tension, hips rising and pushing back in attempt to get Prussia angled correctly again.
Instead of complying, Prussia slipped in a fourth finger and spread. The imprisoned breath squeezed out of Spain's lungs.
"Soyez doux!" The words were edged sharply, vituperative. The stare France raked the other blond with was a vexed one. "I said to play nicely, did I not?" France rubbed Spain's cheek with the back of his knuckles, providing comfort.
The warning was clear. Play nicely or not at all.
Prussia bristled. He wasn't being overly rough; they were going to be rough on Spain. He was easing the way. Neither of them spoke however, their gazes locking, both contumacious.
The silence stretched in the treehouse too long. Spain struggled to lift his head, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. "Excuse me. Have I been forgotten?"
The staring match broke simultaneously, both dropping their gazes down to the bound nation.
"No." They chorused. Two pairs of hands guided him onto his knees, providing balance. Prussia slid forward, pressing himself against Spain's clothed back, oil slicked erection rubbing between his cheeks. The bottle was passed along to France, and then wet fingers curved around Spain's right hip. A hot breath disturbed the sensitive skin behind his ear.
"This will be awesome." Prussia promised, biting down on the side of his neck as he utilized his free hand to position himself and began to push inside, urging a strangled moan of relief from Spain's throat. Olive-hued eyes fluttered shut, blind to France liberally pouring oil into his palm, discarding the bottle and then anointing himself.
Spain's fingers curled, nails digging into his palms as Prussia rested a sharp chin on a tanned shoulder, completely sheathed. He was really starting to question what the fun of tying him up was when the man behind him withdrew and thrust, one fluid, long motion that swept into the next seamlessly.
Prussia's jeans rubbed against the back of his thighs as the man surged into him, nearly sending Spain face-first into the bed. Teeth digging into his lower lip, Spain fervently hoped the foundation of the treehouse was as solid as a rock. Prussia rocked against him vigorously, making the bed creak. He shook his head and then felt France touch his neglected manhood.
"Yes, yes, please--" He breathed, opening his eyes to look up into blue ones lit by mischief. France smiled at him happily, giving Spain a fond squeeze before his hand dived between his thighs and caused his breath to choke as those wandering fingers reached his entrance. Prussia felt them too and slowed down until he was barely moving, rolling his hips lazily.
"W-what is going on?"
"Don't worry," France murmured at the same time as a finger squeezed into Spain, knuckles rubbing against Prussia. The fingers on Spain's hips tightened, blunt nails digging in. Spain had too many other things to worry about to notice.
"'Don't worry'?" Spain echoed in disbelief, amazed that he could still manage speech as France's long finger began stretching him even further, adding a second finger before a protest could formulate on the brunet's lips.
Prussia shifted behind him, breathing controlled. He wrapped a hand around Spain’s throat and urged him to rest back on his chest, tilting Spain's head so that he could kiss the former conquistador.
Spain murmured worriedly into his mouth, apparently not distracted enough from what France was doing. Prussia took that as both an insult and a challenge, sweeping his tongue into Spain’s mouth and stealing his breath.
The kiss was merciless, taunting the bound country into returning it. The hand on Spain’s hip moved, rubbing his stomach as France added a third finger and took Spain's cock into his mouth, noticing the man had begun to wilt.
“Mrph!” Too much, too much.
Not enough.
Green eyes opened, suspiciously wet. Spain couldn't make up his mind whether to push forward or back. The pain was fading into discomfort, dulling under want.
He freed his mouth and looked down at the blond sucking him off. “Francis, now!”
It was hardly eloquent but the demand was understood. Lips slid off his cock tenderly at the same time as Prussia withdrew from him. Spain groaned under his breath and turned around with the encouragement of hands on his waist and thighs.
He climbed on top of the supine Prussia, noticing the other's bloodthirsty grin and meeting it with a wry stare. Pale hands gripped his hips again, promising to leave additional marks.
“Think you can take it?” Prussia challenged, barely letting out a hiss as Spain wiggled in answer, impaling himself on the other's cock.
Spain licked his upper lip, tongue traversing the length languidly. “Wouldn't be the first time.”
Prussia's eyebrows snapped together in a curious frown. A hand on his back pushed Spain down until he was face to face with Prussia's displeased expression.
“Enough of that. We can tell him about that some other occasion.” His brother declared, making Spain laugh nervously. France positioned himself between Prussia's legs and spread Spain's buttocks apart.
Again those long fingers reapplied oil, briefly thrusting inside before they were replaced with something considerably thicker.
"Breathe, beautiful." France reminded him with a strained laugh as the head of his cock popped through the ring of resistance and began inexorably pushing forward. Spain began to pant, unconsciously digging his nails into his palms again.
He'd forgotten how much it could hurt, how full it made him feel. Spain rubbed his cheek against Prussia's chest, hearing the other's pounding heartbeat as much as feeling it against his lips.
It was going to be rough. Spain dug his nails even deeper, threatening to break skin, and caught one of Prussia's nipples in his mouth, sucking greedily as France continued to push carefully.
"Oh, fuck. How long are you planning to take?" Prussia swore and impatiently reached up, grabbed France's hips and jerked him flush against Spain. The brunet made a choked, gasping sound, teeth grazing the nub of nerves.
France glared at the unapologetic Germanic nation, eyes narrowed in irritation and stress as he attempted to remain perfectly still. Sweat rolled down his face. Spain was squirming nervously between them, making little breathy sounds that broke his heart and pumped even more blood into his cock.
Unable to help it, it was France who made the first move, rubbing against Prussia's cock and Spain's prostate as he drew his hips and thrust back inside, causing both of the men underneath him to gasp.
Then it became Prussia's turn. He grit his teeth against the amazing pressure and gave an experimental thrust, liking the reaction that it garnered from Spain. The green eyes were half-open, gleaming darkly and wetly, dark hair curling limply over his forehead, mouth sweetly swollen.
He wasn't one for not taking what he wanted. Prussia gripped the back of Spain's head and retook his mouth even as France began to move.
The bed creaked under their weight, ignored under raw gasps and husky moans. France kissed the line of Spain's spine through the thin cotton shirt, controlling the rhythm and power even if he regarded the messy, wet kiss with envy.
His hands moved and reached everywhere they could, chest tight as he struggled to breathe. Being part of a threesome was always his favorite, particularly if it meant that he could have Spain breathless and wordlessly arching in pleasure underneath him.
And Prussia felt fantastic, both rubbing against each other in the lewdest way possible. They were both painfully aroused, slicking the way further with precome as they both strained to keep things controlled.
It didn't help that Spain moved against them, restlessly, rubbing his own cock into Prussia's muscled abdomen. He slipped away again from the other’s hungry kiss. The blond adjusted, slipping his mouth across the line of his jaw and moving up to kiss his ear before going back down again to suck his neck roughly, biting again.
Spain cried out his name and then shook unmistakably, on the edge of coming. Both of his lovers recognized it and in unison began to move faster, rougher, hands moving across flushed, sensitive skin. Golden fingers against tan flesh, pale fingers against scar tissue. They were no longer thinking about being gentle, both disjointedly thrusting into Spain and trapping him tight between their straining bodies.
Tears squeezed out the corners of Spain’s closed eyes as his orgasm slammed into him, lips parted in a soundless cry. He might have jerked up had France not covered his back and bound arms, making him squirm restlessly as he came over Prussia’s stomach. Inner muscles clamped down on them, nearly painful in intensity. If anything it spurned them on.
France panted against Spain’s back, slamming into him desperately. Prussia couldn’t manage the same from his position underneath but it didn’t matter, the constant friction had him raking red lines down Spain’s sides in reaction as his balls drew tight and emptied without even considering pulling out.
Spain shivered exhaustedly at the hot wet sensation, gasping against Prussia’s throat as France held out to be the last one to come, rocking against both and murmuring tender, nonsensical dirty words in French as he did.
The sudden collapsed weight on his back didn’t surprise Spain, although he did feel the meager breath being knocked out of him. He rested his cheek over Prussia’s beating heart, eyes closed, felt France’s own heart beating against his back as well. All of them were still running on adrenaline and pleasure, aftershocks running through their nerves.
“You’re both too fucking heavy.” Prussia grunted but made no motion to push them off him. Instead he curled his hand around Spain’s neck, fingers stretching to cover and press into the deep bitemarks decorating the dark skin. The bruise wouldn’t fade for days, and he knew it, from the satisfied smirk he wore followed by the almost-loving slide of his tongue across the abused flesh.
When they pulled out of him Spain winced but made no protest. His throat was raw and dry, his wrists nearly numb from being bound with rope through all that. He was going to be sore as hell once the pleasure stopped drugging his system.
France's hands fluttered down to his rear, spreading the cheeks apart again to inspect him. Spain imagined that he had probably bled a little. But they had both prepared him, and it was hardly his first time--
Spain's following breath came out ragged as a warm and skilled tongue touched his entrance and pushed inside, soothing as well as startling. He opened his eyes to look down into amused red ones, a slashed smile on Prussia's face as he lifted Spain off him by the shoulders and scooted back far enough that when he pushed the other back down Spain's mouth was inches away from Prussia's semen-smeared abdomen.
“You didn't think we were done, did you?” Prussia mocked. Spain ignored his tone and spread his legs further, gasping as France continued rim him, and set about cleaning Prussia off with flat sweeps of his tongue as he plotted.
Prussia being the one tied up the next time sounded lovely to him. To a four poster bed in a proper bedroom. Legs and arms. Then maybe he'd tell Prussia about the other time he'd been taken like that, by France--and Austria.
Author: frostberryjam
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: France x Spain x Prussia.
Warnings: Threesome, double penetration, a little of bondage, tinge of dubcon initially.
Summary: Spain, Prussia and France decide to christen their treehouse in a rather special way.
Author Notes: You would not believe the difficulties I had with this fic. It was ridiculous. Through a series of unfortunate events I had to rewrite certain parts over four times because the 'good' versions kept getting deleted/lost somehow.
It made me kind of hate it, honestly. Added to that that it's my first threesome fic, my first DP fic and actually only my second Hetalia fic... it almost seemed this would never get done.
Anyway, frustrations aside, this was written for the Hetalia kink meme. OP wanted the Bad Friends trio in a treehouse getting it on with the bonus of a little bondage.
“I think we should christen it.” Spain enthusiastically declared as he 'toured' the small treehouse, which was suitable for little boy and company but a tight fit with three grown nations inside. The bed, the chairs and the table occupied most of the space available. Spain had wondered with the other two had insisted on such a large bed when a cot would have sufficed, but he wasn't one to nitpick.
After all it was theirs, and Spain was determined that they should celebrate.
“Christen it?” Prussia exchanged glances with France. The other's sudden devilish smile signaled he was having the same thought. Of course.
“Spain, mon cher, we are in agreement.” France took a step forward. Spain was caught off guard as his brother's arms hooked around his waist and pulled him back into France's solid frame. Confused, he lifted his head with a quizzical smile up at the blond. “¿Si? ¿Y entonces? ¿Que hacemos? ¿We get a wine bottle and smash it against the tree?”
France was aware of Prussia moving around out of their sight, satisfied the other nation was pulling up the rope ladder to avoid unwanted visitors. (Russia kept trying to get into their treehouse, damn it, but he was too heavy to climb the tree without a ladder, green branches snapping under his bulky weight.) He kept one arm circling Spain's hips and used the free hand to hold the brunette's chin and thumb his lower lip. A flicker of something other than confusion passed through Spain's lovely eyes.
“No. Something a little more special than that.” He angled their faces correctly, awkward and hot as hell to kiss someone from behind. France swept his tongue past the soft lips, hand instinctively sliding under Spain's shirt, rubbing his stomach and then reaching to roll a nipple. Spain wasn't struggling, but he was tense.
Spain cried into France's mouth when Prussia introduced himself the fray by pushing up the shirt high and lowering his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. With a dark chuckle he sucked hard enough to mark the skin.
The Spaniard jerked at the flash of pain/pleasure, trying to push his friends away simultaneously, lungs on fire from lack of oxygen. “Wait, paren, paren! Here? You want to do that here?” In the treehouse? Of all places? What the hell were they going to do if the house wasn't sturdy? (even though Denmark had been the one to build it for them; still.)
France's breath was rough, gripping Spain's elbows back to keep him still. There wasn't going to be a moment for doubts of protests. “Here.”
“Now.” Prussia grinned with a hint of sharp fangs, a smile that might have sent other Nations scurrying for cover. He held a length of rope. Spain's eyes widened.
“Uhm..."
"Uhm." He repeated anxiously when the rope was transferred to France and quicker than Spain could blink, felt the material sliding around his wrists, tightening. He felt a shiver of premonition of what was going to happen to him. "I don't think I like this."
Prussia nipped his earlobe, hands on Spain's bare hips, sandwiched between the two males. "You will."
The Spaniard was starting to realize why the large bed had been so adamantly fought for despite the impractically of it in such a tiny space. "I think--"
"Don't think." France tested the bonds, wondering where Prussia had found rope. The knots were solid, with enough give that Spain wouldn't suffer undue stiffness after they had fun.
"You should listen to the pervert. He hardly ever thinks with anything but his cock." Prussia drawled, holding a knife. Where from, who knew. Buttons began clattering to the floor, threads cut, and Spain might have inquired why he was destroying a perfectly good shirt except he was in no position to do that, not when the cool edge of the blade rasped down and brushed against his skin with too much frequency to be accidental.
"... I will take that as a compliment, Gilbert." The oldest nation returned with veiled irritation, and Spain shivered at the hot breath on his neck. Suddenly being between the two men was alarming for other less pleasant reasons.
What was better? Being their object of lust or being in the middle while an argument broke out?
Spain moistened his parched lips and stared at Prussia. "Kiss me?"
Caught off guard, Prussia's attention swung from glaring smugly at France to Spain. A satisfied, possessive smile scrolled across his mouth. He leaned closer, intently studying the green eyes outlined with sooty eyelashes. His fingertips followed the line of the tanned jaw and Spain leaned into the touch, breath faltering as he felt a different pair of hands begin working at undoing his pants.
Prussia licked his mouth, tongue tracing his lower lip and then pushing inside. The Germanic nation slid his palms into Spain's hair, fingers grasping the wavy strands as the kiss deepened, tongues rubbing together. Unaware that the knife had been transferred to France, Spain pressed closer to the man in front of him.
"Clothes, Messieurs. Otherwise this will not quite work." France jealously regarded the play fight of tongues, bare down to his pants, boots having been discarded. The switch knife had been put aside and he was unhappy about apparently being forgotten even if the sight of white skin against dark made his groin ache. He unbuckled his belt as Prussia finally retreated, licking his lips languidly, still tasting the Spaniard.
"For once, he's actually saying something sensible." He acknowledged, eyes glittering hungrily. Spain stumbled and fell backwards as Prussia gave him a brusque shove. Spain grit his teeth, expecting pain from the fall -- but he landed on something soft. The bed. It groaned under the sudden weight, just like his muscles protested at the unnatural position of having his hands bound behind his back.
Even easy-going Spain wasn't entirely pleased with being put into such a vulnerable position. He squirmed, trying to sit up, and suddenly stopped to watch as Prussia and France began undressing. His mouth dried up, pupils dilated with arousal and interest as more and more flesh was revealed. He pressed his thighs together unconsciously, trying to give himself relief.
Prussia was whipcord lean strength, skin pale and slathered with faded scars, sword and bullet alike leaving their mark on his body even if the details of where and when and why were forgotten by human history. So did France have his share of cicatrix, as they all did, as did Spain, studying his brother mutely. Some of those scars had been left there by him.
Spain ducked his head, staring at the floor with a distant expression.
“You cannot be crying?” The bed shifted as France sat next to him, movements lithe and purposeful. He urged Spain to look up at him, checking his face. There were no tears gleaming in Spain's gaze, but he seemed just as lost. “Ma pauvre beaute. Forget all that troublesome business.” The long, rosy-golden fingers danced down his throat, to his chest, nails flicking against the pebbled nipples as France urged Spain to lean against him. He rubbed the brunette's stomach in a gesture that was both soothing and seductive as Prussia rolled his eyes silently and removed Spain's boots.
Spain pressed his face against the blonde's neck, inhaling the complex scent of Francis; cigarette, wine, fresh bread and something faintly sweet that made him venture to lick France's throat, seeking to identify that last elusive element. All he tasted was sweat, pure and salty that said as much as the hard cock pressing into his hip that France wanted him.
He felt hands remove everything until he was naked below the waist, bare but for the white shirt that gaped open after having been robbed of the buttons, and then rough material against his legs as Prussia joined on his other side. Typical Prussia. Still wanting to prove he was better by keeping his pants on. Spain was drawn down on the bed by four hands, one set more gentle than the other but both with licentious intent. Two pairs of very different eyes stared down at him.
Spain flushed. The color spread from his cheeks and down, vivid even under his sun-kissed skin. He pressed his thighs together again and France chuckled. His hand fluttered down to carefully push the Spaniard's legs apart, causing Spain to shiver with want when his elegant fingers curved around his erection.
"How are we going to do this?" France asked Prussia as his hand began moving patiently up and down Spain's flesh, grip too slack to provide release. Madness would come before that. He chuckled, confident of his luck. After all, luck was a woman, and women loved him. "Shall we flip a coin for it?"
"...and they call your people 'great lovers'." Prussia scoffed, pants hanging low on his hips and undone so that he could hold himself in hand and mimic France's rhythm.
Spain released a harassed breath, secretly wishing Prussia would move closer so that he could sweep his tongue over the wetness gathering already at the head of his cock.
"Do I get a choice in this?" He inquired in a carefully measured tone that he sometimes used on South Italy.
Immediately he recognized his mistake as both turned to look at him with interested expressions. France's smile had grown into a full blown smirk. "Who do you want more, Espagne?"
Even Spain recognized the folly in answering that question. He swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly desert-dry mouth. He tried to wiggle away from his old friend, only to suddenly moan as the blond's grip tightened, massaging his cock. The brunet turned his head to the side only to find Prussia staring down at him with the same avid interest.
“It's me, right? You want me to fuck you hard." The Germanic nation purred, carding calloused fingers through the Spanish man's hair, snaring the strands and tugging at them.
Spain was quite effectively caught from both ends. Ay, dios mio.
“I-I don't…” He stuttered, searching for an answer and coming up blank. All his blood seemed to be rushing South, leaving his brain scrambling for two wits to rub together.
“Can't seem to make up his mind, can he?" France mused to Prussia, meeting the man's eyes and passing along a subtle suggestion. "He wants us both too much.”
Prussia tightened his grip, staring down at the older nation's flushed face before a chuckle rose from him. "Let's be nice and give him what he wants, then."
Considering the personal importance that the conversation held for him, Spain did his best to try to follow along. But then lips crashed down onto his own, victoriously drawing his lower lip in between sharp teeth. Crimson eyes flashed with triumph, effectively distracting Spain from noticing that France had withdrawn from the bed and was out of view. He fought as good as he got, feeling those war-roughened fingers move down his chest and outline his ribs, thumbs pressing into muscle and rubbing scars with approval until Spain achieved control of the kiss.
Prussia didn't like that. One hand still remained in Spain's hair. The bound man yelped as his scalp burned with pain. He frowned unhappily at his lover. "That's childish, Gilbert. Knock it off."
"The man has no sense of honor, droit? Play nicely." The bed dipped under France's weight as he rejoined the fray, not so kindly shoving Prussia out of the way. The only reason it didn't all dissolve into an immediate fistfight was the small plastic bottle France carried in hand.
"We are going to turn you over now," was all the warning Spain got before hands flipped him onto his side and then onto his stomach.
"Hijos de la gran--" Spain nearly swore, blood flow resuming into his bound arms, which had begun to grow lifeless from being twisted back and laid on. He tried to work his hands free but the knots were only deceptively loose. There was no way he was getting out of them by himself. He felt someone open his legs again and move in between the emptied space.
Sensual hands smoothed down his back, rubbing his arms. Smell of freshly cut roses. France. Which meant the person spreading him open had to be Prussia. He almost whimpered, both in eagerness and worry.
“Shhh. Je t'aime, petit frere.” Knowing lips kissed his nape, moved up to nuzzle the curve of his head. ‘I love you, little brother.' Spain understood, turning his face so that his cheek lay against the bed, catching a glimpse of golden hair. Prussia touched an oil-slicked finger against his entrance, circling it once before slipping the tip inside and continuing slowly but without pause.
France changed positions, kneeling in front of both. There was no need to ask or demand. Spain lifted his face and kissed the head of the weeping erection placed within his reach. Royal blue eyes observed avidly as a lovely pink tongue slid across his flesh, making France's abdomen tighten as Spain laved a wet path down the organ, tasting thoroughly even as Prussia slipped a second digit into him.
The former Teutonic Knight made sedulous scissoring motions with his fingers even as he scowled across the bound nation at France.
France utterly ignored him, petting Spain's hair encouragingly, breathing uneven as he murmured no doubt filthy things in French in a loving tone, which Prussia couldn't understand. Irked, he didn't wait long nor was he kind when he shoved a third finger into Spain, satisfied by the startled, not displeased gasp the man made in reply.
“T-three?” Two seemed enough to Spain, cheek pressed against France's thigh as he tried to breathe, not an easy task in his position. Three was borderline excessive. He shut his eyes when Prussia forewent using words to answer him and instead stretched him deeper and harder until he found the spot that made Spain suck his breath in and hold it. The muscles of his back flexed with tension, hips rising and pushing back in attempt to get Prussia angled correctly again.
Instead of complying, Prussia slipped in a fourth finger and spread. The imprisoned breath squeezed out of Spain's lungs.
"Soyez doux!" The words were edged sharply, vituperative. The stare France raked the other blond with was a vexed one. "I said to play nicely, did I not?" France rubbed Spain's cheek with the back of his knuckles, providing comfort.
The warning was clear. Play nicely or not at all.
Prussia bristled. He wasn't being overly rough; they were going to be rough on Spain. He was easing the way. Neither of them spoke however, their gazes locking, both contumacious.
The silence stretched in the treehouse too long. Spain struggled to lift his head, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. "Excuse me. Have I been forgotten?"
The staring match broke simultaneously, both dropping their gazes down to the bound nation.
"No." They chorused. Two pairs of hands guided him onto his knees, providing balance. Prussia slid forward, pressing himself against Spain's clothed back, oil slicked erection rubbing between his cheeks. The bottle was passed along to France, and then wet fingers curved around Spain's right hip. A hot breath disturbed the sensitive skin behind his ear.
"This will be awesome." Prussia promised, biting down on the side of his neck as he utilized his free hand to position himself and began to push inside, urging a strangled moan of relief from Spain's throat. Olive-hued eyes fluttered shut, blind to France liberally pouring oil into his palm, discarding the bottle and then anointing himself.
Spain's fingers curled, nails digging into his palms as Prussia rested a sharp chin on a tanned shoulder, completely sheathed. He was really starting to question what the fun of tying him up was when the man behind him withdrew and thrust, one fluid, long motion that swept into the next seamlessly.
Prussia's jeans rubbed against the back of his thighs as the man surged into him, nearly sending Spain face-first into the bed. Teeth digging into his lower lip, Spain fervently hoped the foundation of the treehouse was as solid as a rock. Prussia rocked against him vigorously, making the bed creak. He shook his head and then felt France touch his neglected manhood.
"Yes, yes, please--" He breathed, opening his eyes to look up into blue ones lit by mischief. France smiled at him happily, giving Spain a fond squeeze before his hand dived between his thighs and caused his breath to choke as those wandering fingers reached his entrance. Prussia felt them too and slowed down until he was barely moving, rolling his hips lazily.
"W-what is going on?"
"Don't worry," France murmured at the same time as a finger squeezed into Spain, knuckles rubbing against Prussia. The fingers on Spain's hips tightened, blunt nails digging in. Spain had too many other things to worry about to notice.
"'Don't worry'?" Spain echoed in disbelief, amazed that he could still manage speech as France's long finger began stretching him even further, adding a second finger before a protest could formulate on the brunet's lips.
Prussia shifted behind him, breathing controlled. He wrapped a hand around Spain’s throat and urged him to rest back on his chest, tilting Spain's head so that he could kiss the former conquistador.
Spain murmured worriedly into his mouth, apparently not distracted enough from what France was doing. Prussia took that as both an insult and a challenge, sweeping his tongue into Spain’s mouth and stealing his breath.
The kiss was merciless, taunting the bound country into returning it. The hand on Spain’s hip moved, rubbing his stomach as France added a third finger and took Spain's cock into his mouth, noticing the man had begun to wilt.
“Mrph!” Too much, too much.
Not enough.
Green eyes opened, suspiciously wet. Spain couldn't make up his mind whether to push forward or back. The pain was fading into discomfort, dulling under want.
He freed his mouth and looked down at the blond sucking him off. “Francis, now!”
It was hardly eloquent but the demand was understood. Lips slid off his cock tenderly at the same time as Prussia withdrew from him. Spain groaned under his breath and turned around with the encouragement of hands on his waist and thighs.
He climbed on top of the supine Prussia, noticing the other's bloodthirsty grin and meeting it with a wry stare. Pale hands gripped his hips again, promising to leave additional marks.
“Think you can take it?” Prussia challenged, barely letting out a hiss as Spain wiggled in answer, impaling himself on the other's cock.
Spain licked his upper lip, tongue traversing the length languidly. “Wouldn't be the first time.”
Prussia's eyebrows snapped together in a curious frown. A hand on his back pushed Spain down until he was face to face with Prussia's displeased expression.
“Enough of that. We can tell him about that some other occasion.” His brother declared, making Spain laugh nervously. France positioned himself between Prussia's legs and spread Spain's buttocks apart.
Again those long fingers reapplied oil, briefly thrusting inside before they were replaced with something considerably thicker.
"Breathe, beautiful." France reminded him with a strained laugh as the head of his cock popped through the ring of resistance and began inexorably pushing forward. Spain began to pant, unconsciously digging his nails into his palms again.
He'd forgotten how much it could hurt, how full it made him feel. Spain rubbed his cheek against Prussia's chest, hearing the other's pounding heartbeat as much as feeling it against his lips.
It was going to be rough. Spain dug his nails even deeper, threatening to break skin, and caught one of Prussia's nipples in his mouth, sucking greedily as France continued to push carefully.
"Oh, fuck. How long are you planning to take?" Prussia swore and impatiently reached up, grabbed France's hips and jerked him flush against Spain. The brunet made a choked, gasping sound, teeth grazing the nub of nerves.
France glared at the unapologetic Germanic nation, eyes narrowed in irritation and stress as he attempted to remain perfectly still. Sweat rolled down his face. Spain was squirming nervously between them, making little breathy sounds that broke his heart and pumped even more blood into his cock.
Unable to help it, it was France who made the first move, rubbing against Prussia's cock and Spain's prostate as he drew his hips and thrust back inside, causing both of the men underneath him to gasp.
Then it became Prussia's turn. He grit his teeth against the amazing pressure and gave an experimental thrust, liking the reaction that it garnered from Spain. The green eyes were half-open, gleaming darkly and wetly, dark hair curling limply over his forehead, mouth sweetly swollen.
He wasn't one for not taking what he wanted. Prussia gripped the back of Spain's head and retook his mouth even as France began to move.
The bed creaked under their weight, ignored under raw gasps and husky moans. France kissed the line of Spain's spine through the thin cotton shirt, controlling the rhythm and power even if he regarded the messy, wet kiss with envy.
His hands moved and reached everywhere they could, chest tight as he struggled to breathe. Being part of a threesome was always his favorite, particularly if it meant that he could have Spain breathless and wordlessly arching in pleasure underneath him.
And Prussia felt fantastic, both rubbing against each other in the lewdest way possible. They were both painfully aroused, slicking the way further with precome as they both strained to keep things controlled.
It didn't help that Spain moved against them, restlessly, rubbing his own cock into Prussia's muscled abdomen. He slipped away again from the other’s hungry kiss. The blond adjusted, slipping his mouth across the line of his jaw and moving up to kiss his ear before going back down again to suck his neck roughly, biting again.
Spain cried out his name and then shook unmistakably, on the edge of coming. Both of his lovers recognized it and in unison began to move faster, rougher, hands moving across flushed, sensitive skin. Golden fingers against tan flesh, pale fingers against scar tissue. They were no longer thinking about being gentle, both disjointedly thrusting into Spain and trapping him tight between their straining bodies.
Tears squeezed out the corners of Spain’s closed eyes as his orgasm slammed into him, lips parted in a soundless cry. He might have jerked up had France not covered his back and bound arms, making him squirm restlessly as he came over Prussia’s stomach. Inner muscles clamped down on them, nearly painful in intensity. If anything it spurned them on.
France panted against Spain’s back, slamming into him desperately. Prussia couldn’t manage the same from his position underneath but it didn’t matter, the constant friction had him raking red lines down Spain’s sides in reaction as his balls drew tight and emptied without even considering pulling out.
Spain shivered exhaustedly at the hot wet sensation, gasping against Prussia’s throat as France held out to be the last one to come, rocking against both and murmuring tender, nonsensical dirty words in French as he did.
The sudden collapsed weight on his back didn’t surprise Spain, although he did feel the meager breath being knocked out of him. He rested his cheek over Prussia’s beating heart, eyes closed, felt France’s own heart beating against his back as well. All of them were still running on adrenaline and pleasure, aftershocks running through their nerves.
“You’re both too fucking heavy.” Prussia grunted but made no motion to push them off him. Instead he curled his hand around Spain’s neck, fingers stretching to cover and press into the deep bitemarks decorating the dark skin. The bruise wouldn’t fade for days, and he knew it, from the satisfied smirk he wore followed by the almost-loving slide of his tongue across the abused flesh.
When they pulled out of him Spain winced but made no protest. His throat was raw and dry, his wrists nearly numb from being bound with rope through all that. He was going to be sore as hell once the pleasure stopped drugging his system.
France's hands fluttered down to his rear, spreading the cheeks apart again to inspect him. Spain imagined that he had probably bled a little. But they had both prepared him, and it was hardly his first time--
Spain's following breath came out ragged as a warm and skilled tongue touched his entrance and pushed inside, soothing as well as startling. He opened his eyes to look down into amused red ones, a slashed smile on Prussia's face as he lifted Spain off him by the shoulders and scooted back far enough that when he pushed the other back down Spain's mouth was inches away from Prussia's semen-smeared abdomen.
“You didn't think we were done, did you?” Prussia mocked. Spain ignored his tone and spread his legs further, gasping as France continued rim him, and set about cleaning Prussia off with flat sweeps of his tongue as he plotted.
Prussia being the one tied up the next time sounded lovely to him. To a four poster bed in a proper bedroom. Legs and arms. Then maybe he'd tell Prussia about the other time he'd been taken like that, by France--and Austria.