Die Qual der Wahl [7/?]
anonymous
June 11 2010, 17:40:57 UTC
“Keep them on,” he said, only slightly breathless. When she raised her eyebrows at him, he conceded only one thing and with much less shame than he’d expected. “… I’ll take the pan- them off myself.”
She shot him an amused smile and the look on her face said, ‘So you do like little girl panties’, but that was something he couldn’t properly respond to. He opted to remain silent as she slid beside him on the bed, looping her arms around him. Prussia gently cupped his other cheek and pulled him in, sliding a finger along the line of his jaw and over his Adam’s apple, down his throat to his collarbone. She pressed her hand flat against his chest under the shirt and touched him lazily, resting her head against his shoulder, appreciating the firmness of muscle that still existed even under decades of paper pushing. He had lost his well-defined six-pack long ago, but she couldn’t find it in herself to fret over it. Her body had become incomprehensibly soft over the years, after all. He loosely wrapped an arm around her waist, gently holding her and her own hands crept lower to unfasten his belt and trousers.
Prussia’s eyes landed on the tie that was still gripped in the hand that held Germany up on the bed. Her hands paused and she tilted her head back slightly to meet his eyes.
“What’s that for?”
“Well,” Germany said still catching his breath, more honest than usual in his afterglow, “I was wondering if I should tie you up or blindfold you.”
Prussia’s smile was lazy and indolent. ‘Fond’ came to mind. “Mm. Not tonight.”
Germany raised his eyebrows at her. She responded by cupping his chin and leaning in, speaking in that coy manner of hers. “Don’t you think I’ve been well-behaved?”
“Hardly,” Germany replied, taking into account the occurrences from the cocktail party, but fully aware that she was referring to everything from the beer onwards. She sidled even closer, pressing herself against him in a way that drove him insane, and, with a sweet little smile, let her hand fall lower to very slowly palm his crotch. He bit back a groan.
“Perhaps you’d like to instruct me in just what it is you consider good behaviour.” Here, her smile curled into her characteristic smirk. “Though that won’t make any difference considering the fact that I was your sole role model growing up.”
Germany rolled his eyes in response. “It explains a lot of things.”
“Chyeah, namely how awesome and manly you’ve grown up to be,” Prussia scoffed, neglecting his groin to pat him gently on his marvellously broad chest. “If I’d left you to Piano von Sissyburg, you’d probably have ended up like Italy.”
A poignant moment was spent picturing the hypothetical outcome.
They proceeded to dismiss it almost immediately.
“Forget the blindfold, I’m better off just gagging you,” Germany replied dryly.
Prussia arched a brow, pointedly glancing downwards. “I thought you liked my mouth.”
He flushed. “Occupied or shut,” he said a little too insistently.
Of all the things he had expected in reply, a reproachful look was certainly not one of them.
She was off him immediately, sitting upright and casting him an injured glance as she began to tuck her breasts back into her dress. He stared at her, confused with the sudden change of demeanour. At the bewildered expression on his face, Prussia shot him a disgruntled look and muttered, “You don’t hear me criticising you every time we have sex.”
She shot him an amused smile and the look on her face said, ‘So you do like little girl panties’, but that was something he couldn’t properly respond to. He opted to remain silent as she slid beside him on the bed, looping her arms around him. Prussia gently cupped his other cheek and pulled him in, sliding a finger along the line of his jaw and over his Adam’s apple, down his throat to his collarbone. She pressed her hand flat against his chest under the shirt and touched him lazily, resting her head against his shoulder, appreciating the firmness of muscle that still existed even under decades of paper pushing. He had lost his well-defined six-pack long ago, but she couldn’t find it in herself to fret over it. Her body had become incomprehensibly soft over the years, after all. He loosely wrapped an arm around her waist, gently holding her and her own hands crept lower to unfasten his belt and trousers.
Prussia’s eyes landed on the tie that was still gripped in the hand that held Germany up on the bed. Her hands paused and she tilted her head back slightly to meet his eyes.
“What’s that for?”
“Well,” Germany said still catching his breath, more honest than usual in his afterglow, “I was wondering if I should tie you up or blindfold you.”
Prussia’s smile was lazy and indolent. ‘Fond’ came to mind. “Mm. Not tonight.”
Germany raised his eyebrows at her. She responded by cupping his chin and leaning in, speaking in that coy manner of hers. “Don’t you think I’ve been well-behaved?”
“Hardly,” Germany replied, taking into account the occurrences from the cocktail party, but fully aware that she was referring to everything from the beer onwards. She sidled even closer, pressing herself against him in a way that drove him insane, and, with a sweet little smile, let her hand fall lower to very slowly palm his crotch. He bit back a groan.
“Perhaps you’d like to instruct me in just what it is you consider good behaviour.” Here, her smile curled into her characteristic smirk. “Though that won’t make any difference considering the fact that I was your sole role model growing up.”
Germany rolled his eyes in response. “It explains a lot of things.”
“Chyeah, namely how awesome and manly you’ve grown up to be,” Prussia scoffed, neglecting his groin to pat him gently on his marvellously broad chest. “If I’d left you to Piano von Sissyburg, you’d probably have ended up like Italy.”
A poignant moment was spent picturing the hypothetical outcome.
They proceeded to dismiss it almost immediately.
“Forget the blindfold, I’m better off just gagging you,” Germany replied dryly.
Prussia arched a brow, pointedly glancing downwards. “I thought you liked my mouth.”
He flushed. “Occupied or shut,” he said a little too insistently.
Of all the things he had expected in reply, a reproachful look was certainly not one of them.
She was off him immediately, sitting upright and casting him an injured glance as she began to tuck her breasts back into her dress. He stared at her, confused with the sudden change of demeanour. At the bewildered expression on his face, Prussia shot him a disgruntled look and muttered, “You don’t hear me criticising you every time we have sex.”
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