In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
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hetalia kink meme
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Okay, let's make history and be more epic than these people, shall we?
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“E-Eduard,” Latvia began softly, peeking over his brother’s shoulder as Estonia bit his lip and concentrated on picking the lock with a couple of Ukraine’s hair pins. “Eduard, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Sure,” Estonia said, just as softly, as though they expected wrath to descend on them any second. “I mean, how hard can it be to pick a lock?”
“Ed,” Latvia whined softly, his hands shaking on his brother’s shoulders as he peered down either end of the hallway. He leaned in close, whispering against Estonia’s ear, “Toris is gonna be upset if he finds out what we done. And he always finds out-.”
“I told you, Raivis,” Estonia chastened, peering over his shoulder. He pushed up his glasses with his thumb, and smiled at his younger brother. “Toris is spending the day with Feliks. He’ll never know.”
He turned back to the lock, and Latvia was quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers over Estonia’s shoulders. After a moment, he looked down the hall again, and muttered, “I hope you’re right.”
The lock suddenly clicked loudly. Both of the young Baltics jumped slightly, and then Estonia straightened up, almost bowling Latvia over. He opened the door jovially, and stepped into the study they’d decided to adventure in that afternoon.
The sun streamed in through big, bright windows with glass that was newer than most of the glass in the building. Everything was covered with dust and the white sheets that Latvia remembered being on Lithuania’s things when he’d moved out of Vilnius when the Commonwealth had been hale and hearty. Estonia stepped up to one of the windows, fingering a curtain that was old, sun-bleached and covered with so much dust that it looked gray. Everything in the room was monochrome, the light blazing in through the windows on it.
Latvia shut the door and felt like he was suffocating. Estonia looked around the room, gaping slightly, before he said, “This is where it happened.”
“Eduard-.”
“You can feel it, right?” He touched the dust cover on one of the miscellaneous shapes of the room-Latvia thought it might be a chair. “You can feel that this is where it happened? Where Toris saw it happen?”
“Ed, do we have to be in here?” Latvia rubbed his arm self-consciously, looking around at the covered furniture. “I don’t like this place.”
“We’ve been scarier places,” Eduard said softly, stepping toward the covered desk. His fingers clutched the fabric of the cover, and he stared at it a moment. “This is just old ghosts, right? The Empire. Nothing’s here anymore.”
The cover came off the desk with a flourish, flashing white from the sun and the ripple of the dust through the sunlight. Latvia coughed on the dust, waving it away from his mouth; he tried to not think of caustic smoke, dirt kicked up by explosions, the smoke and smell of dying. The room didn’t smell of that, he supposed. Just dust.
The desk was made of dark wood, a huge and sturdy thing. Estonia ran his hands all over the top, leaned down and pressed his chest against it, pressed his ear to it as if he could hear all the stories he knew from before it had been locked away. Latvia stepped toward it cautiously, touching the battered front edge. There were gouges in the wood, where glass had shattered and marred the surface.
He wasn’t particularly surprised when Estonia grabbed his arm and pulled him in close, wrapped his arms around his middle and breathed in against his hair. Estonia had always had an affinity and deep love for history. Lithuania had joked once, in passing, that Estonia fetishized history-others’ more than his own-but Latvia had never seen the joke of it. A good deal of his history was Estonia’s as well, more than it was their older brother’s; he’d seen what it did to Estonia.
“Ed,” he whined softly as Estonia moved his even, deep breathing from his hair to his neck. “Ed, what if somebody comes by?”
“Raivis, nobody comes to this wing.” He unwound his arms from around Latvia’s waist, put his hands on the desk as Latvia turned in the net of his arms. His smile was warm and generous as always, coaxing; Latvia had always loved that smile. “Don’t worry so much.”
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“I know.” Latvia lifted his hands and removed Estonia’s glasses, setting them gently on the dark wood top of the desk. Gently, Estonia helped Latvia up onto the desk top, bringing his hands up to work at the buttons of Latvia’s jacket.
Latvia gripped Estonia’s hair at the nape of his neck, let go when Estonia pulled off his jacket and the suit blouse under it, then put his hands back there. Estonia’s neck was warm, his hair soft, and if Latvia shut his eyes, he could image the ocean instead of the cold of the Union; he could remember visiting Cousin Finland in Helsinki where he lived with Sweden for so long, and going to Vilnius to see Lithuania and Poland, and spending the summers with Estonia at his tulip-colored house in the country, visiting the sheep that would always crowd for his attention.
“Raivis?”
“I wanna go home, Eduard,” Latvia whispered, leaning his head against Estonia’s chest. Estonia trailed his hands gently over Latvia’s back, tracing the scars that were there from war and brutality, the definition of muscle that had grown too quickly, forcing out the fat because there wasn’t enough to eat. His nails scraped down the valley of Latvia’s spine, and he arched with a shuddering breath.
“Think of home,” Estonia whispered against his ear. “What are you thinking of?”
“Home,” Latvia murmured, then giggled a bit hysterically. Estonia giggled back at him, and planted a kiss on Latvia’s cheek. His mouth lingered on his brother’s cheek, before sliding in, until he could kiss the corner of Latvia’s mouth. Latvia stilled his giggling to kiss Estonia gently on the lips.
“What of home?” Estonia whispered, lips brushing Latvia’s as he undid Latvia’s belt and fly on his slacks.
Latvia slowly undid the buttons of Estonia’s jacket, then touched the little glass-topped buttons on his suit blouse, pressing them through their holes slowly, one by one, from Estonia’s navel to his collar.
“What are you thinking of home?” Estonia asked, drawing Latvia’s hand up to his lips. He kissed each finger, slow and gentle, before he sucked Latvia’s thumb into his mouth. Latvia sighed, shutting his eyes and leaning against his brother’s shoulder.
“Valka and Valga,” he murmured after a moment. “Jumping the border. Riding the carts at Midsummer. Bird watching.” He swallowed. Estonia took the first two fingers of Latvia’s hand into his mouth, and sucked at them. “I miss...the library in Riga.”
His fingers slid from Estonia’s mouth, but Estonia held his hand. “I remember that library. And the University.”
“I miss your house,” Latvia whispered, and swallowed again. Estonia stared at him blurrily, smiling as he drew Latvia’s fingers back into his mouth. Latvia scooted toward the edge of the desk and hugged his thighs around Estonia’s hips, drawing him in closer. “I miss your little bedroom overlooking the paddock.”
“I do too,” Estonia murmured, and lifted Latvia’s chin. Latvia kept his eyes shut, anticipating the kiss from his brother. This one went further than the last, and before Latvia knew it he was on his back on the desk, eyes opening slightly to take in Estonia leaned over him, all his nerves alight and focused on wherever Estonia’s hands happened to be: now his chest, now his thighs, now on his hips, pulling his slacks down his legs and off without taking off his boots.
Estonia traced the bumps of Latvia’s ribs. “You’ve lost weight.”
“There’s not enough to eat around here,” Latvia grumbled, and covered his face.
Estonia chuckled, and kissed over his heart. “You must be growing again,” he whispered. “I think,” he said, moving his kisses around over Latvia’s chest, “one day...you’ll be bigger...than Toris and I.”
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“It’s going to hurt, won’t it?” Estonia soothed his hands down Latvia’s sides. Latvia giggled, hysterical and opening his eyes to stare at his hands again. “It always hurts.”
“I’m sorry,” Estonia whispered, and rubbed a finger gently over Latvia’s entrance. Latvia made himself go limp, stared at the ceiling as his arms flopped onto his belly.
Estonia grabbed his hands, squeezed his fingers, and demanded pleadingly, “Don’t do that, Raivis.”
“Th-this was a bad idea, Ed,” Latvia grumbled, staring at the ceiling like it held the answer and salvation from this situation.
“I’m sorry.”
Latvia gasped; he hadn’t heard Estonia sink to the floor, hadn’t been expecting Estonia’s cool hands lifting his legs and spreading them, hadn’t known what Estonia was planning. That first swipe of his tongue was like a benediction. Biting his lips to say quiet, Latvia remembered the first time he and Estonia had been together in this way.
Then, then Latvia had been Lithuania and Poland’s, and they had treated him very well. He’d been a round child. Everything was always laughter and brightness in Vilnius where they kept him. He ate well. And when they let him return to Riga and look over his cities, they thought nothing of him jumping the border.
They had to be careful then. Estonia was Sweden’s-and Latvia didn’t care what people said about Cousin Finland and Mister Sweden now; then he was not just a frightening man, but a cruel one. The first time they had been together, Estonia had reminded Latvia of Sweden in some ways. He didn’t smile as much then, wasn’t interested in adventuring. He wasn’t the brother Latvia remembered with hazy adoration.
The first time-the first time was terrible. All the lights had been off, and all Latvia could hear was breathing. He hadn’t cried. Years later-not so many that the memories were lost to time-he’d cried when he’d woken to breathing like that, to cool hands on his body, to a frame that was larger than his, larger than Lithuania’s or Estonia’s or anyone else Latvia knew. But that first time, he did not cry.
He cried now, biting his lip and letting the tears leak out, for entirely different reasons than that time with Russia, from the time when this study was a busy, bustling place and not just a den of ghosts. He cried now because Estonia was tender once more, the boy he remembered, the boy who held him while the Vikings frightened them and Lithuania could do nothing to protect them.
He cried, thinking of home, and thinking of Estonia’s words the last time they saw each other before the war let up and they once more belonged to Russia: “When everything is over, we’ll be together again. And we won’t let anyone hurt us any more.”
“Raivis?” Estonia whispered. Latvia peered down his body, took in the dark flush on his brother’s cheeks, and smiled reassuringly.
It still hurt, a dark and terrible burn between his thighs. Latvia bit his lips and bunched his hands into fists and shut his eyes, tight until tears leaked out the edges. Estonia slid into him slowly, holding his hips and pulling him closer, breath coming in slow, heavy puffs that ghosted over Latvia’s stomach. It seemed like forever before Estonia was still, deep inside Latvia, resting a hand on the desk.
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Latvia thought, from the way his mouth was open and his cheeks were flaming, that he was surely making a lot of noise. But Estonia didn’t shush him, didn’t wear that worried expression he got at times. Slowly, a smile spread through his eyes, and his lips were parted as well for gasped and panting breath. Not so very slyly, Latvia wrapped his legs around Estonia’s, pulling him in and gripping him tightly; he smiled at his brother, and thought, for a moment, that he might be blissful.
But the ice-water sensation of seeing the hand on Estonia’s forearm, the pain of watching Estonia’s face transform with terror and realization-and then Estonia was tumbling through the air, hitting the floor meters away and scrambling to his feet as Latvia fell from the desk.
Russia heaved silently between them, staring at the desk, eyes wide but unseeing. Latvia slid back across the floor, hands slipping, searching for his clothing, staring at the blank and terrible expression Russia wore.
But then it was gone, as Latvia felt the fabric of his slacks beneath his fingers. Russia’s lips turned up in a slow smile; he continued to stare at the desk.
“Get out,” he said, voice sickly sweet and almost tender. “Now.”
Estonia had his clothing gathered to his chest, but Latvia couldn’t stop staring at Russia, still as a rabbit in the grass, shaking harder and harder still as Russia slowly-like an ice flow on the river, or perhaps like honey in the middle of winter-turned that smile on him.
They ran from the room, Estonia gripping Latvia’s arm too tight and completely disregarding their nakedness, and Latvia sobbed at the thought that Russia ruined everything.
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...But the end was like a cold shower. *shiver*
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this op is so happy, thank you anon!!
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I, I'm actually thinking of trying to draw a little something to go with it, but it'll probably take a while. I'm still getting the handle of my tablet and all...
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ahhhh woww i would love to see the drawing once you are all finished!! *w*
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And, oh, it'll be a while before I have a piece of art to go with it. I'm still REALLY BAD at dynamic poses and perspective and, uh. Drawing.
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waahh take your time. * v *;; i just got a bit excited is all! i'll keep checking the thread once in awhile~~
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Well done. Anon. ^_~
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