Reparations? p1
anonymous
September 26 2009, 06:51:16 UTC
So, I am not the anon who said they would do this, and I hope they post theirs anyway, because 1) this is my first time writing these characters and I can't shake the feeling they're dreadfully OOC and 2) anything I know about anything I learned on Wikipedia, so I can't really go in depth with it.
Still. I like threesomes. X3
He watched the cheering, huddled, crying throng, looking for just a glimpse of white hair. He had been looking forever, it seemed. He had searched the overflowing embassy, walked the length of the wall repeatedly, he had even negotiated to see the refugees in Hungary. That had been nearly three days ago.
He watched idly as his people broke chunks off the wall with sledgehammers, maybe trying to move the demolition along faster than the construction workers, maybe just hoping for souvenirs. He didn’t want any souvenirs. He didn’t even really care that the wall was coming down. He just wanted to see his brother, to hug him, and get told he was girl.
Ludwig continued to wait.
…
They could at least give him some fucking boots.
Gilbert glared at his own dirty feet, shifting slightly when the bonds dug into his already sore wrists. He had been dragged down and locked in this damned cellar/bomb shelter/ who-the-hell-knows-with-that-crazy-fucking-Russian and then left for two days with absolutely nothing other than a saucer of water left in the corner that probably more than likely had piss of undeterminable origins in it. He had no jacket, no shirt, only the pants he had passed out on his bed in after playing an agreeable game of Dicey-Scotch, a game he was very proud to have made up entirely on his own (roll the die, have as many shots as the number that comes up.) Then sometime during the night, he had been tied up and thrown into this rank excuse of a room.
And his toes were fucking cold.
Hmph. He wasn’t sure why the hell he had been brought here. It wasn’t the first time he had been held captive, but this was definitely the worst. Before he had been tortured, interrogated, intimidated, but now he was simply bored out of his skull.
Maybe that was the plan. He was barely a country anymore anyway, but instead of allowing him to go out in an awesome display of might and power, they’d hold him here and kill him with boredom.
“Fuck,” Gilbert let the curse slip past his lips, slumping down the stony wall, not caring when it scraped his shoulder blades.
Later, maybe hours, maybe minutes, Gilbert had no sense of time anymore, he heard a scuffle of sound outside the large iron door.
It opened.
He didn’t have to fake his bored expression, but he did have to hide his surprised look when he saw who was on the other side of the door.
It was that prissy Pole and his lapdog.
“How’re you enjoying your stay, Prussia?” Feliks gave a thin smile. “Oh, sorry, East Germany now, right?”
Gilbert shrugged. “Prussia’s fine. I dunno. It’s pleasant enough. Maybe get your housekeeper down here, though. It’s fucking filthy.”
Feliks’ smile never wavered. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“We’ve brought you new water,” Toris finally spoke up. Gilbert leaned to see around to see the Lithuanian standing behind Feliks, holding a pitcher.
“Oh?” Gilbert inquired condescendingly, raising an eyebrow. “And to what do I owe this unexpected boon?”
“We are not monsters,” Toris said quietly, setting the pitcher down by the saucer. When he stood though, he looked straight at the Prussian, his gaze steady enough that it almost made Gilbert flinch away instead.
“Save it,” Gilbert sneered instead. “We’ve known each other too long to begin lying now.”
Toris frowned, but said nothing.
Gilbert shifted, drawing his knee up and leaning back against the wall in a casual pose. “Why are you two really here? To gloat?”
“Yes,” Feliks hissed suddenly, grabbing Gilbert’s hair and pulling his head up while leaning down so their faces were mere inches apart. “We’re here to see the fallen empire, to tell you how the last of your cowardly people are fleeing whilst the Russians take over your beloved city.”
“My brother -”
“Your brother thinks you’re dead.”
Gilbert blinked. “What?”
“The whole world thinks you’re dead,” Toris expanded on Feliks’ statement calmly.
Reparations? p2
anonymous
September 26 2009, 06:53:30 UTC
“How does it feel?” Feliks demanded cruelly, twisting the hair in his hands. Gilbert gritted his teeth, but otherwise gave no reaction. “To have your land split apart? To have everything and everyone you love and call home and family torn from you and given to the undeserving, the uncaring?”
“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Gilbert began to laugh. “The partitions? I just took mine before Russia fucked you literally and thus me figuratively just because you were too much of a pu-”
Pain exploded up his jaw. White light flashed before his eyes and his scalp burned as some of his hair stayed in Feliks’ hand and didn’t hit the wall behind him like the rest of his head.
“Uhn,” Gilbert grunted, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth and tasting blood. He turned to glare at Feliks, only to see him looking in surprise at the other man, and his gaze followed. Toris rubbed his hand softly, his green eyes flashing in rare fury.
Prussia grinned, not caring that it made his split lip sting like crazy. “Well. Looks like the other sister has finally grown a pair.”
“Let’s go, Feliks,” Toris said, turning abruptly, his voice clipped.
Feliks straightened with a final sneer at the Prussian. The two of them left, the clang of the iron door finally fading to leave only a tomblike stillness.
…
“And then I, being awesome as usual, single handedly fought off the wimpy Austria and foppish France, as well as that hulking Swede and psychotic Russian. My sheer might was displayed so handily that it scared the pants off of those huge pale bastards and they ran away. After that it was child’s play in order to skewer the other two weaklings and show everyone exactly how awesome I am.” Gilbert frowned at the ant on his knee, waving its antennae at him as if in disagreement. “Yes, I know that Frederick kind of dropped the ball after that, but we can’t be shoving our awesome on everyone all the time. We need them to get that idea of their own superiority in order to crush them in the most showy way possible.”
There was a sound of squeaking as the large iron door swung open.
“Speaking of people with their own sense of superiority,” Gilbert stage whispered to his insect friend as Feliks and Toris came in, bearing a new pitcher of water.
“You guys here to talk me to death again?” he asked, addressing the pair. “I’d almost prefer Russia’s torture. It’s less painful.”
The two said nothing, but simply set the pitcher down and left.
…
How long this went on for, Gilbert couldn’t tell, but again and again they came and gave him new water, and occasionally some food such as a hard loaf of bread, or a leathery apple. Each time he tried to goad them into conversation, but each time they merely looked at him, then set their supplies down and left.
It was the pity in their eyes that twisted into his gut harder than any dagger.
“Ludwig, you giant idiot, when are you going to get here?” Gilbert growled into the ground, flipping onto his other side before curling back into a fetal position. As soon as he heard the scraping of the iron door, however, he scrambled upright against the wall.
The two men came in, bearing more water and a loaf of bread.
“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” Gilbert asked, slapping a grin onto his face.
They didn’t look at him, just set the food down and turned to leave.
Gilbert growled softly to himself, moving slightly painfully into a crouch. This was bullshit. If they really were the last two people who didn’t think he was dead, then he was absolutely not going to let them ignore his existence.
Launching himself sideways suddenly, he collided shoulder to thigh into one of the men who went down with a pained grunt. Crowing in victory, he evaded the kick that was aiming straight for his genitalia, and sunk his teeth into the flesh of his victim’s thigh, hard enough to cause a pained yowl above him.
There was a burning on his scalp as his head was yanked backwards and a knife pressed to his throat. Gilbert was panting hard, even from that little excursion, but he didn’t care, a smile as big as ever crossing his mouth. He felt alive again.
Reparations? p3
anonymous
September 26 2009, 06:56:05 UTC
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Feliks demanded, hissing in his ear, but Gilbert didn’t pay him any attention, focusing solely on the Lithuanian instead.
Toris stood, but didn’t look at him, instead looking at Feliks. Something seemed to pass between them, and Gilbert could feel the Pole nod from behind him.
Gilbert’s eyes widened as Toris took a step towards him, fingers fiddling with the top of his pants. “Oh, hell -”
The dagger pressing tighter into his throat stopped his words with a slightly pained gurgle. He felt a slow trickle of blood inching its way down his throat, tickling all the hairs, and the torture of not being able to wipe it away was almost worse than the actual cut.
“You bite,” the Pole hissed in his ear again, “and I am so totally slitting your throat and dumping you in a sewer.”
Gilbert merely growled, but suddenly, his mouth was yanked open and a half-hard cock was shoved so far down his throat that it made him choke involuntarily. Toris didn’t ease up at all, even as Gilbert coughed and gagged around him, spittle beginning to coat his lower lip and chin.
Breathing through his nose frantically, Gilbert attempted to quell his reaction and swallowed to repress his gag reflex. Angry and embarrassed by the involuntary tears that sprung to his eyes, Gilbert could do nothing but try and keep down his little bit of food as Toris fucked his mouth with slow, languid strokes.
As if that weren’t bad enough, Feliks was making soft moaning sounds beside him, as if he were the one who was sucking Toris’ cock instead. And fuck it all if his body wasn’t reacting to the smooth slid of skin into his mouth and the gentle hot breaths on his ear. He closed his eyes and growled, ignoring when Toris let out a low breathy moan above him.
His eyes snapped open, though, and he jerked back in surprise, an angry shout garbled by the length of dick still in his mouth when a hand slid down his stomach and into his pants. Toris, apparently not appreciating his pulling away, grabbed the sides of his face, keeping his head still.
“You would enjoy this,” Feliks smirked, sliding his fingers gently over the length of Prussia’s pride and joy, not letting up the dagger on his throat as Gilbert desperately tried not to moan. “You slut.” His finger slid underneath Gilbert’s foreskin to rub softly at the underside of his head, and this time Gilbert could not hold back the sound bubbling out of his throat as a rush of blood surged through his cock, making it throb in his captive’s hand.
The prissy little Pole was good, Gilbert would give him that, as his fucking talented fingers danced on his cock, making Gilbert’s hands fist behind him as he had to force his hips not to fuck that hand until his dick was raw. However, he couldn’t help himself from bending over, trying to ease a little of the pressure that threatened to make him shoot his load in the only damn pair of pants he had at the moment.
That’s when those fingers traced themselves back towards his asshole. He jerked, taken off guard, although wryly in the back of his mind, he was surprised he was surprised.
“Oh fmnck mo,” he swore, not caring that his words were garbled, but Toris merely shuffled back slightly, pulling him with him so that his ass stuck out towards Feliks. The pain of Feliks’ fingers shoving into his ass made him suck air into his lungs instinctively, coughing as several indiscriminate fluids travelled down his windpipe.
Gilbert forced himself to relax, knowing that it was really a choice between hurting and really fucking hurting, and he would rather have the former. After a bit, it did get easier. Hell knew, Gilbert was no lily-white virgin, even in that aspect. However, he still had to set his jaw in order not to clamp down hard when Feliks removed his fingers and pressed the blunt head of his cock into him instead.
His eyes squeezed closed instinctively, growling in pain as he was taken from behind, growing slightly lightheaded from the lack of oxygen he could drag in through pained nostrils. Perhaps that’s why after a time he tilted his hips slightly. And actually moved his tongue. And maybe even gave a little moan.
Reparations? p4
anonymous
September 26 2009, 06:59:35 UTC
Not that his two attackers would notice, really. Instead, they seemed to be lost in their own little world, little breathy moans of each other’s names, accompanied by hazy smiles. But when Toris reached out his hand and Feliks intertwined their fingers, even as distracted as he was, Gilbert barely refrained from snorting and rolling his eyes at the cheesy gesture.
He had to wonder briefly if Toris could read minds for as soon as he thought that, Toris pulled out of his mouth, but held onto his shoulders, preventing him from falling face first onto the ground.
Gilbert decided he didn’t care as he gasped greedy lungfuls of air, the first real breaths he had gotten since the whole thing began. He wished he had his hands free to wipe the spit dripping off his chin, or the sticky tracks trailing from the corners of his eyes, or maybe punch them both in the face.
“Wha...?” he had to squawk in a surprised protest when Toris pushed him up so that his back was flush against Feliks’ chest. When his legs were pulled in front of him (rather painfully, he might add), he suddenly had a flash of insight. Oh, hell, they weren’t going to...
He began struggling, but Toris held his thighs solidly. A shiver of understanding (he wouldn’t call it fear) shot down his spine at the Lithuanian’s almost inhuman strength. Is this what happened when one lived with that Russian for so long?
Trying desperately to grab any handhold on the situation, Gilbert plastered his customary grin on his sore lips, although he couldn’t quite get it into his eyes. “Normally I’d say ‘Fuck you guys,’ right about now, but I guess the point’s a little moot, isn’t it?”
Feliks snorted, but Toris said nothing and merely pressed the head of his cock against Feliks’ length at the entrance to Gilbert’s ass.
This time, there was nothing to gag his pained noises, and holy fuck, it hurt. Curses flew from Gilbert’s lips as his hips instinctively tried to flinch away from the dick tearing his asshole apart, but Feliks’ arms wrapped around his chest and Toris’ iron grip on his thighs meant he wasn’t moving anywhere but had to stay and take it.
There wasn’t enough air in the world to fill his lungs as he desperately tried to breathe through the pain. Somewhere behind the haze of white, though, he could hear Feliks crooning something in his ear, and realised they were both waiting. Letting him adjust. He would have laughed if he had the strength. He tried anyway, a huff of air through his lips, and Toris seemed to take that as a signal that he was alright, and began to move slightly.
It hurt, but less so now, and when Feliks’ hand slid back down his abdomen to grasp his softened cock, he had to grunt as it woke up again at the touch. They weren’t moving much in his ass, only a little really, but every motion sent a rush of sensation all the way up his spine. Then, like the flipping of a switch, it was pleasure in the forefront, the pain almost propelling it, coiling it deep and hot and insistent in his belly.
Oh fucking hell, he was going to cum. He was getting raped by two wimps whom he had beaten into submission more than once, but he was going to cum in their hands anyway. His back arched as a particularly deep thrust from Toris stretched him hard, and a strangled groan escaped his throat. His toes curled, and Feliks slicked a hand over his cock, and then he was gone, shooting ropy lengths of semen over his own abdomen, several curse words bitten off almost frantically.
Reparations? p5
anonymous
September 26 2009, 07:01:38 UTC
But the two men weren’t finished yet. Feliks was almost squeaking in his ear, and Toris was moaning lowly, but they were still thrusting into Gilbert’s tired body. Toris’ grasp had moved to Gilbert’s hips and he pulled them up slightly.
Gilbert twitched and had to give a loud moan as a feeling not unlike an electric shock thudded in his groin. Toris noticed and hit the spot again. And again. And again.
“Fuck,” Gilbert swore emphatically through gritted teeth as his body tightened back up far too quickly, his eyes squeezing closed. They had to stop. He was hanging on the edge again and it was too much. His cock was going to explode which was stupid because it wasn’t even hard...
A brash scream filled the air as everything from the tips of his toes to his shoulders seized and shook, his vision going slightly black at the edges, as pleasure barrelled through him, ruining everything in its path and leaving him a blubbering, sweaty, trembling mess.
He assumed they finished too, but the only thing his mind was good for at the moment was to drag air through his raw throat into his lungs as he draped bonelessly in Feliks’ arms.
Well, they might as well kill him now, he couldn’t help but think as the darkness at the edges of his vision expanded, and he sank into unconsciousness.
...
Ludwig sighed, and began to turn to head back to his home, when something out of the corner of his eye stopped him. Was that a flash of white hair?
He couldn’t help himself and broke out into a run, excitement pounding in his chest and rising in his throat, bitter and wonderful. Skidding to a stop, he could hardly believe his eyes.
His hair wasn’t so much white as a dingy grey, and there were cuts on his chin and lip, and his eyes were tired, with smudges so thick it looked as though his cheekbones had been bruised. Ludwig held his breath, unsure of what do say or do or even think.
Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “What? Think you’re seeing a ghost? Unfortunately for you, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Ludwig didn’t say a word, but grabbed his brother and pulled him in tight. Gilbert stiffened, but then relaxed, leaning into his brother’s hug.
Then he pulled away and punched Ludwig in the shoulder. “What was that for, you big girl?”
Re: Reparations? p5
anonymous
September 26 2009, 12:29:35 UTC
this was wonderful, anon. they didn't feel ooc at all (your prussia was fantastic), and although the ending felt a little rushed it was still a lovely reunion. ♥!
OP likes this
anonymous
September 26 2009, 15:12:44 UTC
Thanks for the fill - and for hitting the bonuses, too! It was a pleasant surprise to see this fic waiting for me this morning. :) (How did Prussia get away, btw?)
Re: OP likes this
anonymous
September 26 2009, 23:34:51 UTC
I'm glad. I had such a hard time posting this after I wrote it, because I was so worried about what you'd think.
Um, I was trying to keep it ambiguous. As in, you don't know whether they let him out or he escaped or what happened, nor would you know, because NONE of them are going to talk about it, but reading it again, it does sound rushed and choppy. Sorry. OTZ
Re: OP likes this
anonymous
September 27 2009, 02:20:35 UTC
Oh, don't worry - I just decided that it works if there was a longer timeskip than I thought, and Ludwig is *just that patient* or has made a habit of going to the remains of the wall every night, because that way the escape/parole isn't tied to the sex. Er, if that made sense. Thanks again for the fill! :)
Re: Reparations? p5
anonymous
September 27 2009, 22:16:59 UTC
Other potential Authornon here.
Great story, other anon! The smut was really well written, but the ending a bit quick. I did like it overall, though :)
I'm still working on my fill! I'm planning on it to be a multichapter fill, not sure how long though. As I said before, I'm very busy! So far Ive only been able to write afew paragraphs OTL But I'll still try to get it up.
Re: Reparations? p5
anonymous
September 28 2009, 05:58:30 UTC
I'm very curious as to prussia's emotionally state after that, but eh, you can end your story wherever you want right? That was great, thanks for the fill.
Still. I like threesomes. X3
He watched the cheering, huddled, crying throng, looking for just a glimpse of white hair. He had been looking forever, it seemed. He had searched the overflowing embassy, walked the length of the wall repeatedly, he had even negotiated to see the refugees in Hungary. That had been nearly three days ago.
He watched idly as his people broke chunks off the wall with sledgehammers, maybe trying to move the demolition along faster than the construction workers, maybe just hoping for souvenirs. He didn’t want any souvenirs. He didn’t even really care that the wall was coming down. He just wanted to see his brother, to hug him, and get told he was girl.
Ludwig continued to wait.
…
They could at least give him some fucking boots.
Gilbert glared at his own dirty feet, shifting slightly when the bonds dug into his already sore wrists. He had been dragged down and locked in this damned cellar/bomb shelter/ who-the-hell-knows-with-that-crazy-fucking-Russian and then left for two days with absolutely nothing other than a saucer of water left in the corner that probably more than likely had piss of undeterminable origins in it. He had no jacket, no shirt, only the pants he had passed out on his bed in after playing an agreeable game of Dicey-Scotch, a game he was very proud to have made up entirely on his own (roll the die, have as many shots as the number that comes up.) Then sometime during the night, he had been tied up and thrown into this rank excuse of a room.
And his toes were fucking cold.
Hmph. He wasn’t sure why the hell he had been brought here. It wasn’t the first time he had been held captive, but this was definitely the worst. Before he had been tortured, interrogated, intimidated, but now he was simply bored out of his skull.
Maybe that was the plan. He was barely a country anymore anyway, but instead of allowing him to go out in an awesome display of might and power, they’d hold him here and kill him with boredom.
“Fuck,” Gilbert let the curse slip past his lips, slumping down the stony wall, not caring when it scraped his shoulder blades.
Later, maybe hours, maybe minutes, Gilbert had no sense of time anymore, he heard a scuffle of sound outside the large iron door.
It opened.
He didn’t have to fake his bored expression, but he did have to hide his surprised look when he saw who was on the other side of the door.
It was that prissy Pole and his lapdog.
“How’re you enjoying your stay, Prussia?” Feliks gave a thin smile. “Oh, sorry, East Germany now, right?”
Gilbert shrugged. “Prussia’s fine. I dunno. It’s pleasant enough. Maybe get your housekeeper down here, though. It’s fucking filthy.”
Feliks’ smile never wavered. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“We’ve brought you new water,” Toris finally spoke up. Gilbert leaned to see around to see the Lithuanian standing behind Feliks, holding a pitcher.
“Oh?” Gilbert inquired condescendingly, raising an eyebrow. “And to what do I owe this unexpected boon?”
“We are not monsters,” Toris said quietly, setting the pitcher down by the saucer. When he stood though, he looked straight at the Prussian, his gaze steady enough that it almost made Gilbert flinch away instead.
“Save it,” Gilbert sneered instead. “We’ve known each other too long to begin lying now.”
Toris frowned, but said nothing.
Gilbert shifted, drawing his knee up and leaning back against the wall in a casual pose. “Why are you two really here? To gloat?”
“Yes,” Feliks hissed suddenly, grabbing Gilbert’s hair and pulling his head up while leaning down so their faces were mere inches apart. “We’re here to see the fallen empire, to tell you how the last of your cowardly people are fleeing whilst the Russians take over your beloved city.”
“My brother -”
“Your brother thinks you’re dead.”
Gilbert blinked. “What?”
“The whole world thinks you’re dead,” Toris expanded on Feliks’ statement calmly.
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“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Gilbert began to laugh. “The partitions? I just took mine before Russia fucked you literally and thus me figuratively just because you were too much of a pu-”
Pain exploded up his jaw. White light flashed before his eyes and his scalp burned as some of his hair stayed in Feliks’ hand and didn’t hit the wall behind him like the rest of his head.
“Uhn,” Gilbert grunted, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth and tasting blood. He turned to glare at Feliks, only to see him looking in surprise at the other man, and his gaze followed. Toris rubbed his hand softly, his green eyes flashing in rare fury.
Prussia grinned, not caring that it made his split lip sting like crazy. “Well. Looks like the other sister has finally grown a pair.”
“Let’s go, Feliks,” Toris said, turning abruptly, his voice clipped.
Feliks straightened with a final sneer at the Prussian. The two of them left, the clang of the iron door finally fading to leave only a tomblike stillness.
…
“And then I, being awesome as usual, single handedly fought off the wimpy Austria and foppish France, as well as that hulking Swede and psychotic Russian. My sheer might was displayed so handily that it scared the pants off of those huge pale bastards and they ran away. After that it was child’s play in order to skewer the other two weaklings and show everyone exactly how awesome I am.” Gilbert frowned at the ant on his knee, waving its antennae at him as if in disagreement. “Yes, I know that Frederick kind of dropped the ball after that, but we can’t be shoving our awesome on everyone all the time. We need them to get that idea of their own superiority in order to crush them in the most showy way possible.”
There was a sound of squeaking as the large iron door swung open.
“Speaking of people with their own sense of superiority,” Gilbert stage whispered to his insect friend as Feliks and Toris came in, bearing a new pitcher of water.
“You guys here to talk me to death again?” he asked, addressing the pair. “I’d almost prefer Russia’s torture. It’s less painful.”
The two said nothing, but simply set the pitcher down and left.
…
How long this went on for, Gilbert couldn’t tell, but again and again they came and gave him new water, and occasionally some food such as a hard loaf of bread, or a leathery apple. Each time he tried to goad them into conversation, but each time they merely looked at him, then set their supplies down and left.
It was the pity in their eyes that twisted into his gut harder than any dagger.
“Ludwig, you giant idiot, when are you going to get here?” Gilbert growled into the ground, flipping onto his other side before curling back into a fetal position. As soon as he heard the scraping of the iron door, however, he scrambled upright against the wall.
The two men came in, bearing more water and a loaf of bread.
“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” Gilbert asked, slapping a grin onto his face.
They didn’t look at him, just set the food down and turned to leave.
Gilbert growled softly to himself, moving slightly painfully into a crouch. This was bullshit. If they really were the last two people who didn’t think he was dead, then he was absolutely not going to let them ignore his existence.
Launching himself sideways suddenly, he collided shoulder to thigh into one of the men who went down with a pained grunt. Crowing in victory, he evaded the kick that was aiming straight for his genitalia, and sunk his teeth into the flesh of his victim’s thigh, hard enough to cause a pained yowl above him.
There was a burning on his scalp as his head was yanked backwards and a knife pressed to his throat. Gilbert was panting hard, even from that little excursion, but he didn’t care, a smile as big as ever crossing his mouth. He felt alive again.
Fuck. Yeah.
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Toris stood, but didn’t look at him, instead looking at Feliks. Something seemed to pass between them, and Gilbert could feel the Pole nod from behind him.
Gilbert’s eyes widened as Toris took a step towards him, fingers fiddling with the top of his pants. “Oh, hell -”
The dagger pressing tighter into his throat stopped his words with a slightly pained gurgle. He felt a slow trickle of blood inching its way down his throat, tickling all the hairs, and the torture of not being able to wipe it away was almost worse than the actual cut.
“You bite,” the Pole hissed in his ear again, “and I am so totally slitting your throat and dumping you in a sewer.”
Gilbert merely growled, but suddenly, his mouth was yanked open and a half-hard cock was shoved so far down his throat that it made him choke involuntarily. Toris didn’t ease up at all, even as Gilbert coughed and gagged around him, spittle beginning to coat his lower lip and chin.
Breathing through his nose frantically, Gilbert attempted to quell his reaction and swallowed to repress his gag reflex. Angry and embarrassed by the involuntary tears that sprung to his eyes, Gilbert could do nothing but try and keep down his little bit of food as Toris fucked his mouth with slow, languid strokes.
As if that weren’t bad enough, Feliks was making soft moaning sounds beside him, as if he were the one who was sucking Toris’ cock instead. And fuck it all if his body wasn’t reacting to the smooth slid of skin into his mouth and the gentle hot breaths on his ear. He closed his eyes and growled, ignoring when Toris let out a low breathy moan above him.
His eyes snapped open, though, and he jerked back in surprise, an angry shout garbled by the length of dick still in his mouth when a hand slid down his stomach and into his pants. Toris, apparently not appreciating his pulling away, grabbed the sides of his face, keeping his head still.
“You would enjoy this,” Feliks smirked, sliding his fingers gently over the length of Prussia’s pride and joy, not letting up the dagger on his throat as Gilbert desperately tried not to moan. “You slut.” His finger slid underneath Gilbert’s foreskin to rub softly at the underside of his head, and this time Gilbert could not hold back the sound bubbling out of his throat as a rush of blood surged through his cock, making it throb in his captive’s hand.
The prissy little Pole was good, Gilbert would give him that, as his fucking talented fingers danced on his cock, making Gilbert’s hands fist behind him as he had to force his hips not to fuck that hand until his dick was raw. However, he couldn’t help himself from bending over, trying to ease a little of the pressure that threatened to make him shoot his load in the only damn pair of pants he had at the moment.
That’s when those fingers traced themselves back towards his asshole. He jerked, taken off guard, although wryly in the back of his mind, he was surprised he was surprised.
“Oh fmnck mo,” he swore, not caring that his words were garbled, but Toris merely shuffled back slightly, pulling him with him so that his ass stuck out towards Feliks. The pain of Feliks’ fingers shoving into his ass made him suck air into his lungs instinctively, coughing as several indiscriminate fluids travelled down his windpipe.
Gilbert forced himself to relax, knowing that it was really a choice between hurting and really fucking hurting, and he would rather have the former. After a bit, it did get easier. Hell knew, Gilbert was no lily-white virgin, even in that aspect. However, he still had to set his jaw in order not to clamp down hard when Feliks removed his fingers and pressed the blunt head of his cock into him instead.
His eyes squeezed closed instinctively, growling in pain as he was taken from behind, growing slightly lightheaded from the lack of oxygen he could drag in through pained nostrils. Perhaps that’s why after a time he tilted his hips slightly. And actually moved his tongue. And maybe even gave a little moan.
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He had to wonder briefly if Toris could read minds for as soon as he thought that, Toris pulled out of his mouth, but held onto his shoulders, preventing him from falling face first onto the ground.
Gilbert decided he didn’t care as he gasped greedy lungfuls of air, the first real breaths he had gotten since the whole thing began. He wished he had his hands free to wipe the spit dripping off his chin, or the sticky tracks trailing from the corners of his eyes, or maybe punch them both in the face.
“Wha...?” he had to squawk in a surprised protest when Toris pushed him up so that his back was flush against Feliks’ chest. When his legs were pulled in front of him (rather painfully, he might add), he suddenly had a flash of insight. Oh, hell, they weren’t going to...
He began struggling, but Toris held his thighs solidly. A shiver of understanding (he wouldn’t call it fear) shot down his spine at the Lithuanian’s almost inhuman strength. Is this what happened when one lived with that Russian for so long?
Trying desperately to grab any handhold on the situation, Gilbert plastered his customary grin on his sore lips, although he couldn’t quite get it into his eyes. “Normally I’d say ‘Fuck you guys,’ right about now, but I guess the point’s a little moot, isn’t it?”
Feliks snorted, but Toris said nothing and merely pressed the head of his cock against Feliks’ length at the entrance to Gilbert’s ass.
This time, there was nothing to gag his pained noises, and holy fuck, it hurt. Curses flew from Gilbert’s lips as his hips instinctively tried to flinch away from the dick tearing his asshole apart, but Feliks’ arms wrapped around his chest and Toris’ iron grip on his thighs meant he wasn’t moving anywhere but had to stay and take it.
There wasn’t enough air in the world to fill his lungs as he desperately tried to breathe through the pain. Somewhere behind the haze of white, though, he could hear Feliks crooning something in his ear, and realised they were both waiting. Letting him adjust. He would have laughed if he had the strength. He tried anyway, a huff of air through his lips, and Toris seemed to take that as a signal that he was alright, and began to move slightly.
It hurt, but less so now, and when Feliks’ hand slid back down his abdomen to grasp his softened cock, he had to grunt as it woke up again at the touch. They weren’t moving much in his ass, only a little really, but every motion sent a rush of sensation all the way up his spine. Then, like the flipping of a switch, it was pleasure in the forefront, the pain almost propelling it, coiling it deep and hot and insistent in his belly.
Oh fucking hell, he was going to cum. He was getting raped by two wimps whom he had beaten into submission more than once, but he was going to cum in their hands anyway. His back arched as a particularly deep thrust from Toris stretched him hard, and a strangled groan escaped his throat. His toes curled, and Feliks slicked a hand over his cock, and then he was gone, shooting ropy lengths of semen over his own abdomen, several curse words bitten off almost frantically.
Gilbert collapsed, panting, exhausted.
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Gilbert twitched and had to give a loud moan as a feeling not unlike an electric shock thudded in his groin. Toris noticed and hit the spot again. And again. And again.
“Fuck,” Gilbert swore emphatically through gritted teeth as his body tightened back up far too quickly, his eyes squeezing closed. They had to stop. He was hanging on the edge again and it was too much. His cock was going to explode which was stupid because it wasn’t even hard...
A brash scream filled the air as everything from the tips of his toes to his shoulders seized and shook, his vision going slightly black at the edges, as pleasure barrelled through him, ruining everything in its path and leaving him a blubbering, sweaty, trembling mess.
He assumed they finished too, but the only thing his mind was good for at the moment was to drag air through his raw throat into his lungs as he draped bonelessly in Feliks’ arms.
Well, they might as well kill him now, he couldn’t help but think as the darkness at the edges of his vision expanded, and he sank into unconsciousness.
...
Ludwig sighed, and began to turn to head back to his home, when something out of the corner of his eye stopped him. Was that a flash of white hair?
He couldn’t help himself and broke out into a run, excitement pounding in his chest and rising in his throat, bitter and wonderful. Skidding to a stop, he could hardly believe his eyes.
His hair wasn’t so much white as a dingy grey, and there were cuts on his chin and lip, and his eyes were tired, with smudges so thick it looked as though his cheekbones had been bruised. Ludwig held his breath, unsure of what do say or do or even think.
Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “What? Think you’re seeing a ghost? Unfortunately for you, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Ludwig didn’t say a word, but grabbed his brother and pulled him in tight. Gilbert stiffened, but then relaxed, leaning into his brother’s hug.
Then he pulled away and punched Ludwig in the shoulder. “What was that for, you big girl?”
Ludwig smiled. He knew it was going to be okay.
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Thanks anon
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Um, I was trying to keep it ambiguous. As in, you don't know whether they let him out or he escaped or what happened, nor would you know, because NONE of them are going to talk about it, but reading it again, it does sound rushed and choppy. Sorry. OTZ
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Thanks again for the fill! :)
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Great story, other anon! The smut was really well written, but the ending a bit quick. I did like it overall, though :)
I'm still working on my fill! I'm planning on it to be a multichapter fill, not sure how long though. As I said before, I'm very busy! So far Ive only been able to write afew paragraphs OTL But I'll still try to get it up.
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