Untitled [13/?]
anonymous
October 4 2010, 13:52:58 UTC
Wine, porn, coffee, cigarettes. I’d say that’s a successful Sunday evening. In other words: I blame any and all typos on drinking.
---
Russia drags down Denmark’s boxers, nails running along the way, hoping to get a response like before; Denmark lets out a quick, low swear, muffled by the bedsheet half-in his mouth.
Leaning down, Russia nips along Denmark’s muscled back, runs his teeth down the tight lines along his spine - slips the boxers off, Denmark helping underneath him, and bites at the ropes around Denmark’s wrists. Denmark thrashes under him and Russia grabs both hips, with both hands - stills him, flattens them to the bed even while grinding against him once more, sweaty skin sliding between them.
“God damn, even humping the bed is great at this point,” Denmark mutters in a few breathless puffs, eyes half-lidded.
Russia shifts to one elbow - Denmark mewls a little at the move - coats a finger in lube, hasty and one-handed. Lifts himself up a little, drags Denmark’s hips back up into the air, runs the lube-slicked finger along Denmark’s spine.
“Are you seriously gonna play with me like this?” Denmark demands, voice rough and scratchy.
“If it makes you put on such a show, yes,” Russia replies.
“Christ. What do you want me to do - just stop the damn teasing,” Denmark growls, only a bit of a whine slipping in.
Russia likes that whine. “Ah, well,” he begins, sitting fully back on his haunches while Denmark remains face-first into the bed, ass up, hands bound behind his back, awkward and on display, panting, dripping and sweaty - what a nice sight - “keep talking.”
“Keep” - wheeze - “talking?”
“Yes. I am sure,” Russia runs one hand down Denmark’s damp, muscled side, the other - the one with the lube - kneading Denmark’s ass, “that Shvetsiya would like to hear how you are...faring.”
Denmark’s eyes snap to Sweden’s at that; Sweden is intensely watching Russia’s hands, however.
“What -” that comes out a little too choked for comprehension - “Sverige,” Denmark tries again, “you gotta opinion on that?”
Sweden’s eyes flick to his for the barest instant and a half-grunt, half-hmm is his only reply. Denmark looks a little closer - he’s thrown off-course by Russia’s other hand joining, rubbing up the backs of his thighs, rough, thumbs pressing along the crease where his thigh and buttock meet - fuck - Sweden is really hard. Really, really hard. Leaking precum, a new sticky line forming between his stomach and cock with every twitch, smearing the hair there against his skin - Sweden’s not even noticing, hand twitching on the sheets semi-rhythmically - hard. Denmark lets out a low groan just at the sight, and another, really loud one when Russia lurches forward while biting that same goddamn spot and barely brushing his entrance with his finger.
“You are too quiet,” Russia murmurs against the bite mark, and lets his finger flick again, teasing.
“Okay, damn, fuck, do that again,” Denmark sighs. Russia does, and licks further up Denmark’s neck. Denmark can feel Russia’s length press against his upper thigh, and, oh God -
“You are still too quiet,” Russia chuckles against the bottom of his jaw. “This is for Shvetsiya’s good, you know.”
Denmark’s breath leaves him all at once, in a rush of air, at that. “Gotcha. You want me to - ahh -” he trails off when Russia’s finger touches and stays.
“Describe to Shvetsiya, what is happening, yes?”
“Yeah. Okay, this bastard isn’t fucking me and he should be already,” Denmark breathes - that comes out a lot weaker than he intends.
Russia chomps down on the bite mark again - there really was no other word, it was a chomp - and Denmark lets out a strangled cry. “Fuck, god damnit -” a gasp, “okay - I smell fuckin’ blood and Rusland had better fuck me or at least get a finger in my ass within the minute or -” a few rough breaths “- I don’t even know, but -” a low, deep moan “- fuck yeah -” Denmark’s eyes screw shut, jaw tight, neck corded, as Russia inserts a finger - “oh, yeah, that’s way better, keep doin’ that, and - ohh, Sverige, how the hell did you keep quiet during this -” more stuttered exhales into the bed “- just a little faster - yesss,” Denmark hisses.
Untitled [14/?]
anonymous
October 4 2010, 13:53:47 UTC
“That is more like it,” Russia remarks, sounding both amused and slightly out of breath.
“Ha, you sound like you’re enjoying it too,” Denmark huffs. “I mean, not surprised, my ass is a pretty sight -”
Sweden snorts and Denmark’s attention goes there. “Sverige, don’t even pretend you don’t - goddamn, Rusland, do that thing ag- fuuuck -”
Denmark’s torn between screwing his eyes shut - whatever-the-hell Russia’s doing is fantastic, but Sweden looks - wow. “Sverige,” a pause for a few breaths, “you are so into this,” Denmark half-laughs, then breaks off into an appreciative rumble when Russia adds a - second? third? - well, another - finger. He still keeps his eyes on Sweden though - the hand in the sheets is balled into a fist, there’s definitely a flush over his chest, and oh, is it hot, and he might chew through his lip pretty soon.
“God, Sverige,” Denmark says, weakly, “you look -” Denmark cuts himself off with something more akin to a yowl than anything, and exclaims “Rusland, there, do that - yes.”
“This?” Russia curls his fingers again and Denmark bucks up into him with a sob.
“Yeah,” he replies when his brain is a little more ordered.
Russia continues, quirking his fingers in an off-kilter rhythm. Denmark keens and demands he go a little faster - yeah, and - Russia takes some of Denmark’s fingers into his mouth, licking and biting.
Denmark twitches his fingers and tries to drive them deeper into Russia’s mouth. “Just - fuck me already,” he demands.
Russia pulls his fingers out, draws up and crouches over Denmark, bracing one hand on the bed, the other at Denmark’s hip. He pauses, pressed against Denmark, and reminds him to make some noise for Sweden.
“Got it,” Denmark says even as he thrusts back against Russia. Russia’s grip on his hip tightens and Denmark lips his lips, looking up at Sweden. “He has really big hands, huh?” he chuckles.
Sweden’s hm of agreement is drowned out by Denmark’s deep snarl as Russia enters him.
“Why’re you going so slow? I’m not a virgin, damn.”
Russia pushes in all the way, quick and sharp, with a growl, and begins a short, quick, forceful rhythm over Denmark’s stream of curses muttered into the bed.
Denmark tries to move against him, meet his thrusts - Russia digs his nails in and splays himself along Denmark’s back and arms to keep him in place. Denmark yells at the change - “yeah, yeah, that’s way better, that - “ pant “ - that angle -”
“Keep going, Daniya,” Russia huffs into the side of Denmark’s twisted neck, nails of one hand dragging a line across his shoulder.
“Huh? Ohhh...um - ugh, yeah - actually -” a pause for breath - “why doncha tell us how - how we look, eh, Sverige?”
Sweden’s dark gaze travels over them. “Yer sweaty.”
“I think,” more panting, “ya can do better than that.”
“Yer flushed,” Sweden replies, lip quirked in a half-smirk.
“Stop - ah - stop bein’ a dick, Sver - yes, that, there - Jesus Rusland’s a hard fuck - that’s - that’s good - I -Sverige you know I get off on your voice, fuck you,” Denmark finally slurs out, all at once.
Sweden shifts against the headboard and brings a hand to his thigh, thumb gently rubbing circles against the skin. “Mm. ‘kay. Ever’ time Ryssland enters ya y’can see his muscles move.”
Denmark emits a raw, jagged sound and encourages Sweden to go on in a garbled mess of curses.
“An’ y’look like a whore,” Sweden mutters, throaty, a slight leer to the tone. Denmark shouts and Russia leans further down and murmurs something in his ear, getting another loud yelp for his efforts. “Yer hair’s all messed up an’ yer gettin’ drool on m’bed.”
Denmark isn’t even breathing properly anymore, and Russia keeps pounding away, keeps saying things he can barely understand, in Russian, right in his ear - but it’s all obvious from the tone that they aren’t innocent things.
“Damn that accent,” Denmark says, and it comes out as a whimper. Damn that whimper.
Untitled [15/?]
anonymous
October 4 2010, 13:54:40 UTC
Denmark opens his eyes again - he sees sheets, Russia’s hair, and Sweden, one hand on his erection and the other at his lips. “Sverige, nope -” Sweden looks confused - “stop jackin’ off.” Denmark takes time to attempt to get his breath, then decides it’s fruitless. “You’ve got me next,” he informs in a wheeze, cocky grin smeared across the bedspread. The grin shatters when Russia slams into him particularly forcefully; Denmark’s eyes close for an instant and his mouth falls open before he clenches his jaw in a grimace.
“Ah, he likes it rough?” Russia asks, heaving, and brushes the sweat from his eyes against Denmark’s shoulder - hm, that doesn’t work too well, Denmark’s dripping in sweat as well - before he looks at Sweden.
They both make sounds of agreement, and Russia smiles at Sweden’s hands fisted in the bedsheets before he twists and moves the arm bracing himself on the bed to Denmark’s hair, instead.
He presses Denmark’s face down into the mattress with a jerk, straightening his arm out and leaning his weight into it, and twists his fingers around Denmark’s hair - then grinds into Denmark with a shuddering, brusque movement.
“Like this, Daniya?”
He only gets a broken moan and a violent twitch in response.
“I will take that as a yes,” he gasps, then swallows heavily and quickens his pace.
“Okay - Rusland - ugh -” Russia can hardly understand Denmark, with his face pressed so solidly into the bed, “this is - oh fuck yeah - harder -” an audible swallow - “Sverige I - Jesus - I hope you - “ a keen “ - like this.”
Russia makes a small sound before slamming into Denmark, mouth twisted, arm and hand clenching over Denmark’s head - listens to Denmark’s hoarse cry - watches Sweden watching them through half-shut eyes - crashes his hips into Denmark, buries himself deep as his orgasm rips through him - roughly rocking them together and riding it out through heavy pants.
He stills and closes his eyes, biting his lip momentarily - the first thing he notices is that both Denmark and Sweden are practically gasping for air, and if he had the breath he’d chuckle at that. He draws himself out, slowly, shakily, moves his hand from Denmark’s head and nearly falls over - he’s still a little too shell-shocked to maintain balance, apparently.
Then he flops back against the footboard and nudges Denmark with his knee. “I think,” he breathes, voice almost a croak, still very low and hoarse, “it’s Shvetsiya’s turn.”
He chuckles at Denmark’s tiny sound of want.
---
Whoopsie my language kink came out to play for a second there.
Re: Untitled [15/?]
anonymous
October 4 2010, 14:56:34 UTC
I just came back to this after reading the first few setup segments and.. um. UNF. :''''''''}
anon needed new underwear TWICE. 3some fics can get confusing and awkward and take me out of it trying to figure out who exactly is doing what to who, but this hasn't EVER done that. plus the country names/ lunguage thing just adds a whole new levle of UNF.
---
Russia drags down Denmark’s boxers, nails running along the way, hoping to get a response like before; Denmark lets out a quick, low swear, muffled by the bedsheet half-in his mouth.
Leaning down, Russia nips along Denmark’s muscled back, runs his teeth down the tight lines along his spine - slips the boxers off, Denmark helping underneath him, and bites at the ropes around Denmark’s wrists. Denmark thrashes under him and Russia grabs both hips, with both hands - stills him, flattens them to the bed even while grinding against him once more, sweaty skin sliding between them.
“God damn, even humping the bed is great at this point,” Denmark mutters in a few breathless puffs, eyes half-lidded.
Russia shifts to one elbow - Denmark mewls a little at the move - coats a finger in lube, hasty and one-handed. Lifts himself up a little, drags Denmark’s hips back up into the air, runs the lube-slicked finger along Denmark’s spine.
“Are you seriously gonna play with me like this?” Denmark demands, voice rough and scratchy.
“If it makes you put on such a show, yes,” Russia replies.
“Christ. What do you want me to do - just stop the damn teasing,” Denmark growls, only a bit of a whine slipping in.
Russia likes that whine. “Ah, well,” he begins, sitting fully back on his haunches while Denmark remains face-first into the bed, ass up, hands bound behind his back, awkward and on display, panting, dripping and sweaty - what a nice sight - “keep talking.”
“Keep” - wheeze - “talking?”
“Yes. I am sure,” Russia runs one hand down Denmark’s damp, muscled side, the other - the one with the lube - kneading Denmark’s ass, “that Shvetsiya would like to hear how you are...faring.”
Denmark’s eyes snap to Sweden’s at that; Sweden is intensely watching Russia’s hands, however.
“What -” that comes out a little too choked for comprehension - “Sverige,” Denmark tries again, “you gotta opinion on that?”
Sweden’s eyes flick to his for the barest instant and a half-grunt, half-hmm is his only reply. Denmark looks a little closer - he’s thrown off-course by Russia’s other hand joining, rubbing up the backs of his thighs, rough, thumbs pressing along the crease where his thigh and buttock meet - fuck - Sweden is really hard. Really, really hard. Leaking precum, a new sticky line forming between his stomach and cock with every twitch, smearing the hair there against his skin - Sweden’s not even noticing, hand twitching on the sheets semi-rhythmically - hard. Denmark lets out a low groan just at the sight, and another, really loud one when Russia lurches forward while biting that same goddamn spot and barely brushing his entrance with his finger.
“You are too quiet,” Russia murmurs against the bite mark, and lets his finger flick again, teasing.
“Okay, damn, fuck, do that again,” Denmark sighs. Russia does, and licks further up Denmark’s neck. Denmark can feel Russia’s length press against his upper thigh, and, oh God -
“You are still too quiet,” Russia chuckles against the bottom of his jaw. “This is for Shvetsiya’s good, you know.”
Denmark’s breath leaves him all at once, in a rush of air, at that. “Gotcha. You want me to - ahh -” he trails off when Russia’s finger touches and stays.
“Describe to Shvetsiya, what is happening, yes?”
“Yeah. Okay, this bastard isn’t fucking me and he should be already,” Denmark breathes - that comes out a lot weaker than he intends.
Russia chomps down on the bite mark again - there really was no other word, it was a chomp - and Denmark lets out a strangled cry. “Fuck, god damnit -” a gasp, “okay - I smell fuckin’ blood and Rusland had better fuck me or at least get a finger in my ass within the minute or -” a few rough breaths “- I don’t even know, but -” a low, deep moan “- fuck yeah -” Denmark’s eyes screw shut, jaw tight, neck corded, as Russia inserts a finger - “oh, yeah, that’s way better, keep doin’ that, and - ohh, Sverige, how the hell did you keep quiet during this -” more stuttered exhales into the bed “- just a little faster - yesss,” Denmark hisses.
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“Ha, you sound like you’re enjoying it too,” Denmark huffs. “I mean, not surprised, my ass is a pretty sight -”
Sweden snorts and Denmark’s attention goes there. “Sverige, don’t even pretend you don’t - goddamn, Rusland, do that thing ag- fuuuck -”
Denmark’s torn between screwing his eyes shut - whatever-the-hell Russia’s doing is fantastic, but Sweden looks - wow. “Sverige,” a pause for a few breaths, “you are so into this,” Denmark half-laughs, then breaks off into an appreciative rumble when Russia adds a - second? third? - well, another - finger. He still keeps his eyes on Sweden though - the hand in the sheets is balled into a fist, there’s definitely a flush over his chest, and oh, is it hot, and he might chew through his lip pretty soon.
“God, Sverige,” Denmark says, weakly, “you look -” Denmark cuts himself off with something more akin to a yowl than anything, and exclaims “Rusland, there, do that - yes.”
“This?” Russia curls his fingers again and Denmark bucks up into him with a sob.
“Yeah,” he replies when his brain is a little more ordered.
Russia continues, quirking his fingers in an off-kilter rhythm. Denmark keens and demands he go a little faster - yeah, and - Russia takes some of Denmark’s fingers into his mouth, licking and biting.
Denmark twitches his fingers and tries to drive them deeper into Russia’s mouth. “Just - fuck me already,” he demands.
Russia pulls his fingers out, draws up and crouches over Denmark, bracing one hand on the bed, the other at Denmark’s hip. He pauses, pressed against Denmark, and reminds him to make some noise for Sweden.
“Got it,” Denmark says even as he thrusts back against Russia. Russia’s grip on his hip tightens and Denmark lips his lips, looking up at Sweden. “He has really big hands, huh?” he chuckles.
Sweden’s hm of agreement is drowned out by Denmark’s deep snarl as Russia enters him.
“Why’re you going so slow? I’m not a virgin, damn.”
Russia pushes in all the way, quick and sharp, with a growl, and begins a short, quick, forceful rhythm over Denmark’s stream of curses muttered into the bed.
Denmark tries to move against him, meet his thrusts - Russia digs his nails in and splays himself along Denmark’s back and arms to keep him in place. Denmark yells at the change - “yeah, yeah, that’s way better, that - “ pant “ - that angle -”
“Keep going, Daniya,” Russia huffs into the side of Denmark’s twisted neck, nails of one hand dragging a line across his shoulder.
“Huh? Ohhh...um - ugh, yeah - actually -” a pause for breath - “why doncha tell us how - how we look, eh, Sverige?”
Sweden’s dark gaze travels over them. “Yer sweaty.”
“I think,” more panting, “ya can do better than that.”
“Yer flushed,” Sweden replies, lip quirked in a half-smirk.
“Stop - ah - stop bein’ a dick, Sver - yes, that, there - Jesus Rusland’s a hard fuck - that’s - that’s good - I -Sverige you know I get off on your voice, fuck you,” Denmark finally slurs out, all at once.
Sweden shifts against the headboard and brings a hand to his thigh, thumb gently rubbing circles against the skin. “Mm. ‘kay. Ever’ time Ryssland enters ya y’can see his muscles move.”
Denmark emits a raw, jagged sound and encourages Sweden to go on in a garbled mess of curses.
“An’ y’look like a whore,” Sweden mutters, throaty, a slight leer to the tone. Denmark shouts and Russia leans further down and murmurs something in his ear, getting another loud yelp for his efforts. “Yer hair’s all messed up an’ yer gettin’ drool on m’bed.”
Denmark isn’t even breathing properly anymore, and Russia keeps pounding away, keeps saying things he can barely understand, in Russian, right in his ear - but it’s all obvious from the tone that they aren’t innocent things.
“Damn that accent,” Denmark says, and it comes out as a whimper. Damn that whimper.
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“Ah, he likes it rough?” Russia asks, heaving, and brushes the sweat from his eyes against Denmark’s shoulder - hm, that doesn’t work too well, Denmark’s dripping in sweat as well - before he looks at Sweden.
They both make sounds of agreement, and Russia smiles at Sweden’s hands fisted in the bedsheets before he twists and moves the arm bracing himself on the bed to Denmark’s hair, instead.
He presses Denmark’s face down into the mattress with a jerk, straightening his arm out and leaning his weight into it, and twists his fingers around Denmark’s hair - then grinds into Denmark with a shuddering, brusque movement.
“Like this, Daniya?”
He only gets a broken moan and a violent twitch in response.
“I will take that as a yes,” he gasps, then swallows heavily and quickens his pace.
“Okay - Rusland - ugh -” Russia can hardly understand Denmark, with his face pressed so solidly into the bed, “this is - oh fuck yeah - harder -” an audible swallow - “Sverige I - Jesus - I hope you - “ a keen “ - like this.”
Russia makes a small sound before slamming into Denmark, mouth twisted, arm and hand clenching over Denmark’s head - listens to Denmark’s hoarse cry - watches Sweden watching them through half-shut eyes - crashes his hips into Denmark, buries himself deep as his orgasm rips through him - roughly rocking them together and riding it out through heavy pants.
He stills and closes his eyes, biting his lip momentarily - the first thing he notices is that both Denmark and Sweden are practically gasping for air, and if he had the breath he’d chuckle at that. He draws himself out, slowly, shakily, moves his hand from Denmark’s head and nearly falls over - he’s still a little too shell-shocked to maintain balance, apparently.
Then he flops back against the footboard and nudges Denmark with his knee. “I think,” he breathes, voice almost a croak, still very low and hoarse, “it’s Shvetsiya’s turn.”
He chuckles at Denmark’s tiny sound of want.
---
Whoopsie my language kink came out to play for a second there.
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UNF. :''''''''}
anon needed new underwear TWICE. 3some fics can get confusing and awkward and take me out of it trying to figure out who exactly is doing what to who, but this hasn't EVER done that. plus the country names/ lunguage thing just adds a whole new levle of UNF.
Go you, anon <3333
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brain cannot function
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not entirely
coherent
right now
I will get back to you
once my brain is functioning again
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