Untitled [9/?]
anonymous
September 25 2010, 04:34:33 UTC
Goddamn I love porn. Also, &hearts all of your comments, anons! I wish there wasn't a comment-space issue, I could actually thank people individually, bah.
---
Russia walks around, behind Denmark, and barely traces his fingers up the side of Denmark’s face as he goes. Denmark turns into it, and Russia grabs his hair and yanks his head back instead - Denmark’s eyes flutter and he gasps.
Russia holds it there, uses his other hand to trace down Denmark’s chest with the backs of his fingers, over bumps of rope and the skin between - shik shik shik down the rope, touching with sufficient pressure but not duration, God no. Just enough to make every tiny patch of skin flare to life, to make Denmark’s ribs strain against their bindings.
“Look at you,” Russia says, low and breathless, cupping Denmark’s jaw with both hands an tilting his head back until their eyes met. “You can’t even breathe correctly. You’re sweaty. Dirty.” Hm, a positive response to that, but not a violent one. Let’s try again.
He turns Denmark’s head to the side and leans over Denmark, ghosts his warm breath down the side of Denmark’s face, runs his teeth over the shirt, just - hovers - above his neck. Denmark whines - he doesn’t even care at this point, but he’d sure be bitching Russia out right now if he could speak.
“Shvetsiya is looking at you,” Russia breathes against Denmark’s throat. Takes a tentative lick before he continues. “His eyes start here,” one of Russia’s fingers touches Denmark’s throat, begins moving lower. “Go down...” the finger follows, occasionally making contact with a sliver of skin. Denmark groans and writhes - it gets worse when Russia pauses in the air over his crotch and finishes with “...and end here: your obvious arousal.” They both flicked their gazes over, and Sweden was staring at Denmark’s tight, tented pants, a curled-up hand near his face as he tried not to bite his own knuckles at the sight.
“Mm, Shvetsiya does seem to enjoy the sight of you so aroused, Daniya,” Russia says, and mouths Denmark’s throat.
Denmark shudders violently at this. Ah, closer.
Russia’s other hand snaps down to grip Denmark’s hip solidly, and Denmark tries to thrust even though he can’t. Sweden’s wearing an intense expression that Denmark’s never seen before and it sends a jolt through him - he lets out a hoarse cry and moves his head so that - yes - Russia twists his hair even further, tsking - Denmark moans.
Russia makes a noise between a chuckle and a hum, still lapping at his neck, moving down to where it meets the muscle of Denmark’s back and shoulders. “You wanted me to do that.” He sounds intrigued. “You like rough things?” he asks, and then bites down on the corded muscle, making it give - Denmark is sure he’s making noise but can’t concentrate because he smells blood - Russia laps it clean, too careful and light. Probably on purpose. Denmark lets out one long and weak, high-pitched, desperate keen from the back of his throat.
Seeming to finally take pity on him, Sweden steps up and starts removing the gag; Denmark’s panting picks up just in anticipation. Russia’s hands knead his hipbones, skim up his sides, pick at the ropes just to point out that they’re still there.
“He is so desperate for attention,” Russia remarks to Sweden, lightly. Denmark’s muscles twitch under his mouth at that. “Ah. Daniya, do you know what would be good?” he asks, rhetorical, since the shirt isn’t quite off yet. He looks up at Sweden. “If I could watch you perform oral sex on Shvetsiya.”
At that moment Sweden rips the shirt out, stream of spittle following, and Denmark’s muffled sounds become an unrelenting stream of panted words - “oh my god oh my god oh just touch me already jeez you guys just - oh -” he groans as Sweden touches himself and raises his eyebrows, questioning.
“Yeah yeah yeah stop teasing me already - yeah - Sverige, do it - let me - ” Denmark cuts himself off with a choked gasp as Russia bites him, again.
Untitled [10/?]
anonymous
September 25 2010, 04:35:25 UTC
“I hope you do not mind if I make commentary,” he purrs brightly into Denmark’s neck.
“You sound waaaay too cheery about that,” Denmark gasps out, arching back into Russia - and those teeth - but not taking his eyes off of Sweden’s cock.
“You do not seem opposed.”
A flick of the tongue as Denmark licks his lips and one stiff nod in reply - quickly followed by a low stream of permutations of “yes please” that was more akin to one long, rough exhale than anything.
“Ryssland,” Sweden cuts in, eyes flicking back and forth between Denmark’s moving mouth, filling the room up with its words, and Russia’s soft tongue, sharp teeth, nibbling a line up a tendon in Denmark’s neck.
Russia looks up at him.
“D’ya wanna direct?”
Russia looks quite surprised, and Sweden almost smiles at that. “M’sure Danmark would like t’hear ya too,” he explains.
Denmark can’t see Russia’s expression, but he can sure hear the smirk in his voice when he orders Sweden to bring his cock to Denmark’s lips.
“Daniya, lick him. Tease him.” Denmark moans at that and happily complies. Russia presses light, light, light kisses along Denmark’s neck, flicks his tongue over the bite mark. Denmark huffs a little onto the tip of Sweden’s cock.
“Shvetsiya,” Russia orders, “put your hand on the back of Daniya’s head - control him.”
Denmark barely has time to exhale a breathless “oh fuck” before Sweden presses his head to his lips again.
“Ah, yes, like that - how does it taste?” Russia chimes. Denmark looks up at Sweden’s unreadable expression and continues mouthing his cock. “That was not a - rhetorical? - question. Answer me, Daniya,” Russia orders, an edge of danger in the tone.
“It’s...” Denmark mumbles, lips just brushing the tip at this point, soft and wet slips against smooth and slick skin, “sharp? I dunno,” he tongues the slit, twirls the tip of his tongue around the head, tasting - he grins at Sweden’s grunt of pleasure. “Yeah, sharp,” he replies, a little muffled, “kinda musky I guess. Some spice. Tastes like Sverige, shit, I dunno.”
“I think that is a good description,” Russia agrees, and rewards Denmark by moving to the side of the chair and beginning to remove the lap ropes. A few are uncoiled, the ones over Denmark’s thighs - and really that doesn’t make much of a difference. Denmark tries to move a little, finds he can’t, and swears loudly against Sweden’s flesh.
“Shvetsiya, place your knee between Daniya’s legs. Make it easier for him to reach you.”
Sweden moves so that he’s straddling Denmark - one knee on the chair, other leg braced on the floor. His hand is still on the back of Denmark’s head, in his hair, keeping him from moving forward any further, from taking any more of Sweden into his mouth.
“Sveriiiige,” Denmark groans, mouth sending vibrations up Sweden’s erection. He gives a surprisingly gentle lick - tongues the tip.
Sweden grunts and waits for orders with a frown, frame imperceptibly trembling from the effort of holding back. Denmark just looks - wow - sweaty and flushed and so, so focused, still muttering off and on, wet lips fluttering - teasing in the only way he can.
Russia looks at Sweden from his crouch beside the chair and smiles - barely, just a twitch of his lips - and begins rubbing a hand into the muscle of Denmark’s inner thigh. Denmark shifts against his hand - the muscle movement can be easily seen through the pant leg - strains forward -
“Control him,” Russia nods at Denmark. “Hold him and thrust in.”
Denmark’s throaty agreement with this is cut off when Sweden shoves Denmark’s head forward - his hissed intake of air and Denmark’s choke resound instead.
Russia hums and nods, glancing up at them for a moment - Sweden looks so severe, Denmark, utterly whorish and reveling in it, both of them wildly turned-on - before nonchalantly returning to untying Denmark’s knots. The movements are unhurried, but he finds his fingers are stumbling more than they should be, won’t quite comply.
Untitled [11/?]
anonymous
September 25 2010, 04:37:05 UTC
Sweden swallows, tightens his fingers a little, and pushes Denmark’s head back, forward, in, out, in - slowly, taking note of how Denmark’s tongue smoothes out and strokes against him, watching the spit slide down the side of his mouth - in, out, in. Almost teasing. Denmark looks up at him through his eyelashes, red-faced and hollow-cheeked, a soft whine in the back of his throat.
“Your Daniya is greedy.”
Some deep, undefinable sound from Denmark, and he tries to shove forward. Sweden holds him back -
- then moves his hips forward, grinds his knee against Denmark’s crotch as he thrusts himself deep into Denmark’s mouth. Denmark complies immediately with a broken-sounding groan and a burst of air from his nose - presses his erection to Sweden’s bony knee as much as he can, a fresh flush staining his shoulders.
“You enjoy that muchly, Daniya? Look at what you are doing to Shvetsiya,” Russia intones, softly, as he clumsily works on the knots to release Denmark’s legs, nips at the clenched thigh underneath those pants. “He is very sweaty, yes? I can smell it.”
Denmark hadn’t noticed, but now - now he could smell Sweden. Fresh air and warm spice and oh, take him a little deeper - yes. He closes his eyes.
“No,” Russia snaps. “Look at him.” Ah, there was the first leg. He shifts near the front of Denmark’s chair and grabs the leg before Denmark can move it, running one hand up underneath Denmark’s pants leg and kneading at the knotted calf muscle. His other hand he allowed to play up Denmark’s thigh, light, then traced his fingers, tips barely touching, up Sweden’s inner thigh.
At this Sweden emits a half-vocalized huff and shoves Denmark’s head forward, all the way, before jerking it back and off completely.
“Jesus Christ, Sverige,” Denmark hoarsely exclaims. “Ya have no idea how goddamn hot you look right now,” he grins, flushed and spit-covered.
“I would agree,” Russia murmurs, just below his ear. Denmark tries to twist his head around and Sweden holds him there with a chastising grunt.
“How the - how’d ya get back there?” Denmark pants, trying to press himself into Russia’s hands running down his sides. Russia bites down on the same spot from earlier and digs his fingers into Denmark’s upper thighs in response, making a pleased sound at Denmark’s loud shout.
“You are a whore for attention,” Russia chirps, sliding his fingers closer to Denmark’s crotch, inwards, oooh just another inch or two - denmark barely hears his own rumbled moan.
Oh, Russia thinks. What was America’s phrase for that? Ah - bingo. “Well! You seem to agree,” he smiles and stands in one fluid motion, looking at Sweden. Sweden tears his gaze from Denmark and raises an eyebrow.
“What am I agreeing to?” Denmark asks, low, still dazed.
Russia slides his fingers down Denmark’s jaw, his neck, finally flaring out to the broad shoulders which are still hitched back over and behind the chair. “That you are a whore for attention,” he replies, happy voice bouncing around the room.
Denmark only closes his eyes and groans at that assessment.
“So,” Russia begins, “we will make sure you get it.”
Denmark tries to turn again - he wants to see Russia’s expression - and again is stopped by Sweden’s hand and a twitch of his mouth - what would be a smirk for most people.
Russia bends down into Denmark’s line of sight and starts on his other leg, humming a tune as he goes. “Shvetsiya, you should untie Daniya’s back from the chair,” he says, sounding absolutely nonchalant, “but not his arms. Keep those bound.”
Sweden raises his eyebrows for a split second and then pulls away (Denmark makes a little sound of protest) and walks around.
“And you’re plannin’ on keepin’ my arms bound why?”
Russia looks at him and gives him an almost wicked smile. “We are giving you the attention, I have said. You should not have to do anything.”
Untitled [12/?]
anonymous
September 25 2010, 04:38:04 UTC
Right then the ropes from his other leg fall free and hit the floor with a light thud. Russia scoots in front of him and smiles, grabbing his knees. “You were saying what, Daniya?” Then he runs his hands up Denmark’s thighs in one swift, rough motion, and begins work on the button of Denmark’s pants. He laughs at Denmark’s thrust.
“Ya can’t just grab my dick or somethin’ while you’re down there, can ya?” Denmark grouses, eyes on Russia’s careful hands. He hears Sweden stifle a laugh behind him. “And you, Sverige, you’re a cruel bastard.” No response except a light thwack to the back of Denmark’s head. “Dick,” Denmark mutters.
Russia just continues his feather-light, careful opening of Denmark’s trousers, smile and eyes darkening once Denmark’s boxer-clad erection springs free. Russia runs his hands between boxers and pants, along the hemlines, circling them around and provoking a - sob, almost - from Denmark. Then he pulls Denmark’s pants down - Denmark lifts up as much as he can, rushed and awkward, wanting to shed layers as soon as possible - drags his nails down Denmark’s covered ass as he goes - that gets a cursed growl. Russia hums at that and continues dragging his nails down with the fabric. Over large, heavily muscled thighs. Drags his thumbs through the darker, coarser hair along the inside, fingers along the clenched muscle on the outside, leaving bright red streaks. He bites the inside of Denmark’s knee when it is exposed, relishing in the choke that escapes. Denmark leans forward a little - ah, Shvetsiya must be almost done - helps him shake off the bunched material. He has nice calves, Russia notes. Large, with coiled muscle. Every movement can be seen under the skin, despite the hair covering them. They’re more built than either Russia’s or Sweden’s.
“’kay,” Sweden calls, standing over Denmark behind the chair, hands on Denmark’s shoulders keeping him pinned down.
“Hey, Sverige, whaddaya think about Rusland’s plan?” Denmark asks, still a little breathless, still a little flushed, drool still all over one side of his face.
Sweden looks down at him - eyes dark, arrogant grin, sweaty, straining erection leaving a dark spot on his boxers - oh he just wants to take him, right now - then at Russia, and shrugs. “Haven’ heard it.”
“Okay, Rusland, what’s the plan?”
Russia’s eyes light up before he abruptly hauls Denmark up by his armpits and tosses him face-first onto the bed - Denmark makes a loud “oof!” - then follows him down and pins him to the bed with his larger size. “Shvetsiya, it would be good for you to come to the bed,” Russia huffs, half-arousal and half-laughter. “My plan,” he smiles, grinding against Denmark and doing it again upon Denmark’s dramatic hitch of breath, “is to fuck you into the bed while Shvetsiya watches.”
Denmark’s breathing noticeably picks up. They both look at Sweden, who’s cross-legged near the headboard. Sweden raises an eyebrow, and Russia continues. “Shvetsiya can have you afterwards,” he purrs, and Denmark snarls into the sheets and tries to twist down against the bed. Russia grabs his hip and stops him. “You will get all of the attention you need.”
“Sounds great, except I’m kind of not right now, asshole,” Denmark bites out between breaths.
“Shvetsiya?”
Sweden tosses the lube their way. “’s a good plan.”
---
Ahahaha my Denmark is an attention whore fo sho. ILU Danmark ;D
Up next: More sex. More voyeurism/exhibitionism. More Denmark-frustration. Waaaay more dirty talk (puh-lease - Russia and Denmark? Russia is way too amused with Denmark’s reactions to noise/dirty talk, is way too blunt as-is, and isn’t the type to be embarrassed over anything - and Denmark - well, he just never shuts up lawl).
authoranon
anonymous
September 25 2010, 07:43:04 UTC
WELL COME BACK SOON BECAUSE IT GETS BETTER.
If you're into filthy filthy dirty talk, Russia totally dom-ing Denmark, desperation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, and maybe a little bloodkink, that is. And fuck, then we've got Sweden. That's some rough sex, there.
UH READ THIS ONE - Untitled - [12/?]
anonymous
September 25 2010, 05:00:22 UTC
Denmark throws his head back and makes a noise of frustration. “Well hell, get on with it then, I’m dyin’.”
Right then the ropes from his other leg fall free and hit the floor with a light thud. Russia scoots in front of him and smiles, grabbing his knees. “You were saying what, Daniya?” Then he runs his hands up Denmark’s thighs in one swift, rough motion, and begins work on the button of Denmark’s pants. He laughs at Denmark’s thrust.
“Ya can’t just grab my dick or somethin’ while you’re down there, can ya?” Denmark grouses, eyes on Russia’s careful hands. He hears Sweden stifle a laugh behind him. “And you, Sverige, you’re a cruel bastard.” No response except a light thwack to the back of Denmark’s head. “Dick,” Denmark mutters.
Russia just continues his feather-light, careful opening of Denmark’s trousers, smile and eyes darkening once Denmark’s boxer-clad erection springs free. Russia runs his hands between boxers and pants, along the hemlines, circling them around and provoking a - sob, almost - from Denmark. Then he pulls Denmark’s pants down - Denmark lifts up as much as he can, rushed and awkward, wanting to shed layers as soon as possible - drags his nails down Denmark’s covered ass as he goes - that gets a cursed growl. Russia hums at that and continues dragging his nails down with the fabric. Over large, heavily muscled thighs. Drags his thumbs through the darker, coarser hair along the inside, fingers along the clenched muscle on the outside, leaving bright red streaks. He bites the inside of Denmark’s knee when it is exposed, relishing in the choke that escapes. Denmark leans forward a little - ah, Shvetsiya must be almost done - helps him shake off the bunched material. He has nice calves, Russia notes. Large, with coiled muscle. Every movement can be seen under the skin, despite the hair covering them. They’re more built than either Russia’s or Sweden’s.
“’kay,” Sweden calls, standing over Denmark behind the chair, hands on Denmark’s shoulders keeping him pinned down.
“Hey, Sverige, whaddaya think about Rusland’s plan?” Denmark asks, still a little breathless, still a little flushed, drool still all over one side of his face.
Sweden looks down at him - eyes dark, arrogant grin, sweaty, straining erection leaving a dark spot on his boxers - oh he just wants to take him, right now - then at Russia, and shrugs. “Haven’ heard it.”
“Okay, Rusland, what’s the plan?”
Russia’s eyes light up before he abruptly hauls Denmark up by his armpits and tosses him face-first onto the bed - Denmark makes a loud “oof!” - then follows him down and pins him to the bed with his larger size. “Shvetsiya, it would be good for you to come to the bed,” Russia huffs, half-arousal and half-laughter. “My plan,” he smiles, grinding against Denmark and doing it again upon Denmark’s dramatic hitch of breath, “is to fuck you into the bed while Shvetsiya watches.”
Denmark’s breathing noticeably picks up. They both look at Sweden, who’s cross-legged near the headboard. Sweden raises an eyebrow, and Russia continues. “Shvetsiya can have you afterwards,” he purrs, and Denmark snarls into the sheets and tries to twist down against the bed. Russia grabs his hip and stops him. “You will get all of the attention you need.”
“Sounds great, except I’m kind of not right now, asshole,” Denmark bites out between breaths.
“Shvetsiya?”
Sweden tosses the lube their way. “’s a good plan.”
---
Ahahaha my Denmark is an attention whore fo sho. ILU Danmark ;D
Up next: More sex. More voyeurism/exhibitionism. More Denmark-frustration. Waaaay more dirty talk (puh-lease - Russia and Denmark? Russia is way too amused with Denmark’s reactions to noise/dirty talk, is way too blunt as-is, and isn’t the type to be embarrassed over anything - and Denmark - well, he just never shuts up lawl).
Re: UH READ THIS ONE - Untitled - [12/?]
anonymous
September 26 2010, 16:07:39 UTC
Author-anon, I will be having nice wet dreams after reading this!!
God, you mentioned Sweden's long legs. GAAAH, something about a big, highly attractive blond with legs up to here panting on a bed after getting fucked just makes me want to cum like crazy.
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Russia walks around, behind Denmark, and barely traces his fingers up the side of Denmark’s face as he goes. Denmark turns into it, and Russia grabs his hair and yanks his head back instead - Denmark’s eyes flutter and he gasps.
Russia holds it there, uses his other hand to trace down Denmark’s chest with the backs of his fingers, over bumps of rope and the skin between - shik shik shik down the rope, touching with sufficient pressure but not duration, God no. Just enough to make every tiny patch of skin flare to life, to make Denmark’s ribs strain against their bindings.
“Look at you,” Russia says, low and breathless, cupping Denmark’s jaw with both hands an tilting his head back until their eyes met. “You can’t even breathe correctly. You’re sweaty. Dirty.” Hm, a positive response to that, but not a violent one. Let’s try again.
He turns Denmark’s head to the side and leans over Denmark, ghosts his warm breath down the side of Denmark’s face, runs his teeth over the shirt, just - hovers - above his neck. Denmark whines - he doesn’t even care at this point, but he’d sure be bitching Russia out right now if he could speak.
“Shvetsiya is looking at you,” Russia breathes against Denmark’s throat. Takes a tentative lick before he continues. “His eyes start here,” one of Russia’s fingers touches Denmark’s throat, begins moving lower. “Go down...” the finger follows, occasionally making contact with a sliver of skin. Denmark groans and writhes - it gets worse when Russia pauses in the air over his crotch and finishes with “...and end here: your obvious arousal.” They both flicked their gazes over, and Sweden was staring at Denmark’s tight, tented pants, a curled-up hand near his face as he tried not to bite his own knuckles at the sight.
“Mm, Shvetsiya does seem to enjoy the sight of you so aroused, Daniya,” Russia says, and mouths Denmark’s throat.
Denmark shudders violently at this. Ah, closer.
Russia’s other hand snaps down to grip Denmark’s hip solidly, and Denmark tries to thrust even though he can’t. Sweden’s wearing an intense expression that Denmark’s never seen before and it sends a jolt through him - he lets out a hoarse cry and moves his head so that - yes - Russia twists his hair even further, tsking - Denmark moans.
Russia makes a noise between a chuckle and a hum, still lapping at his neck, moving down to where it meets the muscle of Denmark’s back and shoulders. “You wanted me to do that.” He sounds intrigued. “You like rough things?” he asks, and then bites down on the corded muscle, making it give - Denmark is sure he’s making noise but can’t concentrate because he smells blood - Russia laps it clean, too careful and light. Probably on purpose. Denmark lets out one long and weak, high-pitched, desperate keen from the back of his throat.
Seeming to finally take pity on him, Sweden steps up and starts removing the gag; Denmark’s panting picks up just in anticipation. Russia’s hands knead his hipbones, skim up his sides, pick at the ropes just to point out that they’re still there.
“He is so desperate for attention,” Russia remarks to Sweden, lightly. Denmark’s muscles twitch under his mouth at that. “Ah. Daniya, do you know what would be good?” he asks, rhetorical, since the shirt isn’t quite off yet. He looks up at Sweden. “If I could watch you perform oral sex on Shvetsiya.”
At that moment Sweden rips the shirt out, stream of spittle following, and Denmark’s muffled sounds become an unrelenting stream of panted words - “oh my god oh my god oh just touch me already jeez you guys just - oh -” he groans as Sweden touches himself and raises his eyebrows, questioning.
“Yeah yeah yeah stop teasing me already - yeah - Sverige, do it - let me - ” Denmark cuts himself off with a choked gasp as Russia bites him, again.
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“You sound waaaay too cheery about that,” Denmark gasps out, arching back into Russia - and those teeth - but not taking his eyes off of Sweden’s cock.
“You do not seem opposed.”
A flick of the tongue as Denmark licks his lips and one stiff nod in reply - quickly followed by a low stream of permutations of “yes please” that was more akin to one long, rough exhale than anything.
“Ryssland,” Sweden cuts in, eyes flicking back and forth between Denmark’s moving mouth, filling the room up with its words, and Russia’s soft tongue, sharp teeth, nibbling a line up a tendon in Denmark’s neck.
Russia looks up at him.
“D’ya wanna direct?”
Russia looks quite surprised, and Sweden almost smiles at that. “M’sure Danmark would like t’hear ya too,” he explains.
Denmark can’t see Russia’s expression, but he can sure hear the smirk in his voice when he orders Sweden to bring his cock to Denmark’s lips.
“Daniya, lick him. Tease him.” Denmark moans at that and happily complies. Russia presses light, light, light kisses along Denmark’s neck, flicks his tongue over the bite mark. Denmark huffs a little onto the tip of Sweden’s cock.
“Shvetsiya,” Russia orders, “put your hand on the back of Daniya’s head - control him.”
Denmark barely has time to exhale a breathless “oh fuck” before Sweden presses his head to his lips again.
“Ah, yes, like that - how does it taste?” Russia chimes. Denmark looks up at Sweden’s unreadable expression and continues mouthing his cock. “That was not a - rhetorical? - question. Answer me, Daniya,” Russia orders, an edge of danger in the tone.
“It’s...” Denmark mumbles, lips just brushing the tip at this point, soft and wet slips against smooth and slick skin, “sharp? I dunno,” he tongues the slit, twirls the tip of his tongue around the head, tasting - he grins at Sweden’s grunt of pleasure. “Yeah, sharp,” he replies, a little muffled, “kinda musky I guess. Some spice. Tastes like Sverige, shit, I dunno.”
“I think that is a good description,” Russia agrees, and rewards Denmark by moving to the side of the chair and beginning to remove the lap ropes. A few are uncoiled, the ones over Denmark’s thighs - and really that doesn’t make much of a difference. Denmark tries to move a little, finds he can’t, and swears loudly against Sweden’s flesh.
“Shvetsiya, place your knee between Daniya’s legs. Make it easier for him to reach you.”
Sweden moves so that he’s straddling Denmark - one knee on the chair, other leg braced on the floor. His hand is still on the back of Denmark’s head, in his hair, keeping him from moving forward any further, from taking any more of Sweden into his mouth.
“Sveriiiige,” Denmark groans, mouth sending vibrations up Sweden’s erection. He gives a surprisingly gentle lick - tongues the tip.
Sweden grunts and waits for orders with a frown, frame imperceptibly trembling from the effort of holding back. Denmark just looks - wow - sweaty and flushed and so, so focused, still muttering off and on, wet lips fluttering - teasing in the only way he can.
Russia looks at Sweden from his crouch beside the chair and smiles - barely, just a twitch of his lips - and begins rubbing a hand into the muscle of Denmark’s inner thigh. Denmark shifts against his hand - the muscle movement can be easily seen through the pant leg - strains forward -
“Control him,” Russia nods at Denmark. “Hold him and thrust in.”
Denmark’s throaty agreement with this is cut off when Sweden shoves Denmark’s head forward - his hissed intake of air and Denmark’s choke resound instead.
Russia hums and nods, glancing up at them for a moment - Sweden looks so severe, Denmark, utterly whorish and reveling in it, both of them wildly turned-on - before nonchalantly returning to untying Denmark’s knots. The movements are unhurried, but he finds his fingers are stumbling more than they should be, won’t quite comply.
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“Your Daniya is greedy.”
Some deep, undefinable sound from Denmark, and he tries to shove forward. Sweden holds him back -
- then moves his hips forward, grinds his knee against Denmark’s crotch as he thrusts himself deep into Denmark’s mouth. Denmark complies immediately with a broken-sounding groan and a burst of air from his nose - presses his erection to Sweden’s bony knee as much as he can, a fresh flush staining his shoulders.
“You enjoy that muchly, Daniya? Look at what you are doing to Shvetsiya,” Russia intones, softly, as he clumsily works on the knots to release Denmark’s legs, nips at the clenched thigh underneath those pants. “He is very sweaty, yes? I can smell it.”
Denmark hadn’t noticed, but now - now he could smell Sweden. Fresh air and warm spice and oh, take him a little deeper - yes. He closes his eyes.
“No,” Russia snaps. “Look at him.” Ah, there was the first leg. He shifts near the front of Denmark’s chair and grabs the leg before Denmark can move it, running one hand up underneath Denmark’s pants leg and kneading at the knotted calf muscle. His other hand he allowed to play up Denmark’s thigh, light, then traced his fingers, tips barely touching, up Sweden’s inner thigh.
At this Sweden emits a half-vocalized huff and shoves Denmark’s head forward, all the way, before jerking it back and off completely.
“Jesus Christ, Sverige,” Denmark hoarsely exclaims. “Ya have no idea how goddamn hot you look right now,” he grins, flushed and spit-covered.
“I would agree,” Russia murmurs, just below his ear. Denmark tries to twist his head around and Sweden holds him there with a chastising grunt.
“How the - how’d ya get back there?” Denmark pants, trying to press himself into Russia’s hands running down his sides. Russia bites down on the same spot from earlier and digs his fingers into Denmark’s upper thighs in response, making a pleased sound at Denmark’s loud shout.
“You are a whore for attention,” Russia chirps, sliding his fingers closer to Denmark’s crotch, inwards, oooh just another inch or two - denmark barely hears his own rumbled moan.
Oh, Russia thinks. What was America’s phrase for that? Ah - bingo. “Well! You seem to agree,” he smiles and stands in one fluid motion, looking at Sweden. Sweden tears his gaze from Denmark and raises an eyebrow.
“What am I agreeing to?” Denmark asks, low, still dazed.
Russia slides his fingers down Denmark’s jaw, his neck, finally flaring out to the broad shoulders which are still hitched back over and behind the chair. “That you are a whore for attention,” he replies, happy voice bouncing around the room.
Denmark only closes his eyes and groans at that assessment.
“So,” Russia begins, “we will make sure you get it.”
Denmark tries to turn again - he wants to see Russia’s expression - and again is stopped by Sweden’s hand and a twitch of his mouth - what would be a smirk for most people.
Russia bends down into Denmark’s line of sight and starts on his other leg, humming a tune as he goes. “Shvetsiya, you should untie Daniya’s back from the chair,” he says, sounding absolutely nonchalant, “but not his arms. Keep those bound.”
Sweden raises his eyebrows for a split second and then pulls away (Denmark makes a little sound of protest) and walks around.
“And you’re plannin’ on keepin’ my arms bound why?”
Russia looks at him and gives him an almost wicked smile. “We are giving you the attention, I have said. You should not have to do anything.”
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“Ya can’t just grab my dick or somethin’ while you’re down there, can ya?” Denmark grouses, eyes on Russia’s careful hands. He hears Sweden stifle a laugh behind him. “And you, Sverige, you’re a cruel bastard.” No response except a light thwack to the back of Denmark’s head. “Dick,” Denmark mutters.
Russia just continues his feather-light, careful opening of Denmark’s trousers, smile and eyes darkening once Denmark’s boxer-clad erection springs free. Russia runs his hands between boxers and pants, along the hemlines, circling them around and provoking a - sob, almost - from Denmark. Then he pulls Denmark’s pants down - Denmark lifts up as much as he can, rushed and awkward, wanting to shed layers as soon as possible - drags his nails down Denmark’s covered ass as he goes - that gets a cursed growl. Russia hums at that and continues dragging his nails down with the fabric. Over large, heavily muscled thighs. Drags his thumbs through the darker, coarser hair along the inside, fingers along the clenched muscle on the outside, leaving bright red streaks. He bites the inside of Denmark’s knee when it is exposed, relishing in the choke that escapes. Denmark leans forward a little - ah, Shvetsiya must be almost done - helps him shake off the bunched material. He has nice calves, Russia notes. Large, with coiled muscle. Every movement can be seen under the skin, despite the hair covering them. They’re more built than either Russia’s or Sweden’s.
“’kay,” Sweden calls, standing over Denmark behind the chair, hands on Denmark’s shoulders keeping him pinned down.
“Hey, Sverige, whaddaya think about Rusland’s plan?” Denmark asks, still a little breathless, still a little flushed, drool still all over one side of his face.
Sweden looks down at him - eyes dark, arrogant grin, sweaty, straining erection leaving a dark spot on his boxers - oh he just wants to take him, right now - then at Russia, and shrugs. “Haven’ heard it.”
“Okay, Rusland, what’s the plan?”
Russia’s eyes light up before he abruptly hauls Denmark up by his armpits and tosses him face-first onto the bed - Denmark makes a loud “oof!” - then follows him down and pins him to the bed with his larger size. “Shvetsiya, it would be good for you to come to the bed,” Russia huffs, half-arousal and half-laughter. “My plan,” he smiles, grinding against Denmark and doing it again upon Denmark’s dramatic hitch of breath, “is to fuck you into the bed while Shvetsiya watches.”
Denmark’s breathing noticeably picks up. They both look at Sweden, who’s cross-legged near the headboard. Sweden raises an eyebrow, and Russia continues. “Shvetsiya can have you afterwards,” he purrs, and Denmark snarls into the sheets and tries to twist down against the bed. Russia grabs his hip and stops him. “You will get all of the attention you need.”
“Sounds great, except I’m kind of not right now, asshole,” Denmark bites out between breaths.
“Shvetsiya?”
Sweden tosses the lube their way. “’s a good plan.”
---
Ahahaha my Denmark is an attention whore fo sho. ILU Danmark ;D
Up next: More sex. More voyeurism/exhibitionism. More Denmark-frustration. Waaaay more dirty talk (puh-lease - Russia and Denmark? Russia is way too amused with Denmark’s reactions to noise/dirty talk, is way too blunt as-is, and isn’t the type to be embarrassed over anything - and Denmark - well, he just never shuts up lawl).
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/faps all night long
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If you're into filthy filthy dirty talk, Russia totally dom-ing Denmark, desperation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, and maybe a little bloodkink, that is. And fuck, then we've got Sweden. That's some rough sex, there.
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Right then the ropes from his other leg fall free and hit the floor with a light thud. Russia scoots in front of him and smiles, grabbing his knees. “You were saying what, Daniya?” Then he runs his hands up Denmark’s thighs in one swift, rough motion, and begins work on the button of Denmark’s pants. He laughs at Denmark’s thrust.
“Ya can’t just grab my dick or somethin’ while you’re down there, can ya?” Denmark grouses, eyes on Russia’s careful hands. He hears Sweden stifle a laugh behind him. “And you, Sverige, you’re a cruel bastard.” No response except a light thwack to the back of Denmark’s head. “Dick,” Denmark mutters.
Russia just continues his feather-light, careful opening of Denmark’s trousers, smile and eyes darkening once Denmark’s boxer-clad erection springs free. Russia runs his hands between boxers and pants, along the hemlines, circling them around and provoking a - sob, almost - from Denmark. Then he pulls Denmark’s pants down - Denmark lifts up as much as he can, rushed and awkward, wanting to shed layers as soon as possible - drags his nails down Denmark’s covered ass as he goes - that gets a cursed growl. Russia hums at that and continues dragging his nails down with the fabric. Over large, heavily muscled thighs. Drags his thumbs through the darker, coarser hair along the inside, fingers along the clenched muscle on the outside, leaving bright red streaks. He bites the inside of Denmark’s knee when it is exposed, relishing in the choke that escapes. Denmark leans forward a little - ah, Shvetsiya must be almost done - helps him shake off the bunched material. He has nice calves, Russia notes. Large, with coiled muscle. Every movement can be seen under the skin, despite the hair covering them. They’re more built than either Russia’s or Sweden’s.
“’kay,” Sweden calls, standing over Denmark behind the chair, hands on Denmark’s shoulders keeping him pinned down.
“Hey, Sverige, whaddaya think about Rusland’s plan?” Denmark asks, still a little breathless, still a little flushed, drool still all over one side of his face.
Sweden looks down at him - eyes dark, arrogant grin, sweaty, straining erection leaving a dark spot on his boxers - oh he just wants to take him, right now - then at Russia, and shrugs. “Haven’ heard it.”
“Okay, Rusland, what’s the plan?”
Russia’s eyes light up before he abruptly hauls Denmark up by his armpits and tosses him face-first onto the bed - Denmark makes a loud “oof!” - then follows him down and pins him to the bed with his larger size. “Shvetsiya, it would be good for you to come to the bed,” Russia huffs, half-arousal and half-laughter. “My plan,” he smiles, grinding against Denmark and doing it again upon Denmark’s dramatic hitch of breath, “is to fuck you into the bed while Shvetsiya watches.”
Denmark’s breathing noticeably picks up. They both look at Sweden, who’s cross-legged near the headboard. Sweden raises an eyebrow, and Russia continues. “Shvetsiya can have you afterwards,” he purrs, and Denmark snarls into the sheets and tries to twist down against the bed. Russia grabs his hip and stops him. “You will get all of the attention you need.”
“Sounds great, except I’m kind of not right now, asshole,” Denmark bites out between breaths.
“Shvetsiya?”
Sweden tosses the lube their way. “’s a good plan.”
---
Ahahaha my Denmark is an attention whore fo sho. ILU Danmark ;D
Up next: More sex. More voyeurism/exhibitionism. More Denmark-frustration. Waaaay more dirty talk (puh-lease - Russia and Denmark? Russia is way too amused with Denmark’s reactions to noise/dirty talk, is way too blunt as-is, and isn’t the type to be embarrassed over anything - and Denmark - well, he just never shuts up lawl).
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ilu authoranon, ilu
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JUST YESS
THIS IS AMAZING DGASDKAAFGJ
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God, you mentioned Sweden's long legs. GAAAH, something about a big, highly attractive blond with legs up to here panting on a bed after getting fucked just makes me want to cum like crazy.
GOD..I cannot wait for more sexxings!
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