This is what endures, no matter what tongue we speak 1/?
anonymous
May 26 2009, 14:05:44 UTC
Three glasses clink together lightly.
"It's a deal then," Spain says and drains his glass in one careless sweep.
"Yes," France smiles, sipping his wine carefully. "To our new future."
Prussia is silent and only brings the wine to his lips without tasting. He has waited too long for greatness but now, finally, he has a leader who shares his dreams. This is a moment he wants to savour, not a memory to drown in sour wine.
"To Austria's downfall," he says at last and raises his glass in a new toast, all the while with a small grin playing around his lips.
The open smile on Spain's face acquires a definite sharpness when he refills his glass. "Yes," he murmurs and watches the swirling wine, "it will be a pleasure to go against him again."
A few drops escape when he drinks and trail slowly down his chin, ruby-red pearls in the candlelight.
"You're too careless," France murmurs and catches Spain's face with a delicate hand. When he bends over the table to lick off the wine, the Iberian nation's eyes slowly slide shut.
Beside them, Prussia finds that his mouth has suddenly gone dry and he hastens to put down his own almost untouched wine.
"What's the matter, Prussia," France asks. "Oh, I see..." he smiles and the cramped tavern seems to grow smaller, more intimate around them.
"You aren't used to proper alliances, are you?" His one hand is still gently petting Spain's face, while the other has begun to loosen his own cravat. France completely ignores the odd looks they draw from the other patrons and his blue eyes seem unnervingly sharp in the flickering light.
"Shut up," Prussia huffs. "Of course I am." He squirms and shakes his head at the two nations' hidden laughter. "We just don't usually lick each others faces where I come from."
"You're playing with the big boys now," Spain says and nips playfully at France's fingers.
Then he rises, ignoring the disappointed sound from France and puts on his beret. "Though, I think we had better retreat for the night. Before our French friend does something to embarrass the other guests even worse."
Prussia nods eagerly. "Yeah," he says and puffs his chest, "tomorrow is a big day. We'll kick that stroppy Austrian's ass!"
His tricorn is plopped unceremoniously on his head and he throws a few coins on the table. It is a good thing, Prussia has time to think, that he brought some beer with him, because what they drink here is just too vile. Then with a suddenness that would unnerve him more if they had not just signed an allegiance, Spain and France are at his sides, each taking hold of an arm.
"What the...?" he begins, but France's lips silence him effectively.
"I think you do not quite understand, little Prussia," Spain says, his voice full of laughter again, laughter that only deepens when Prussia wrenches free and sputters at France.
When their eyes meet, however, Prussia is firmly reminded that this is the conquistador who still holds the lands of the South Americas in his grasp.
"We don't want to upset the children," France whispers in his ear and though his moist breath should be disgusting against Prussia's skin, there is a disconcerting tingle inside of him. "But, if you want a proper allegiance..."
"...we'll seal it the old-fashioned way," Spain continues and snakes an arm around Prussia's waist.
Much can be said about Prussia, but pragmatic he has always been. He remembers his boss, recently having accepted his burdens and already working so hard to fulfil his country's destiny, and he fights down the worried flutter inside. Just nerves, he thinks. It has, after all, been a while since the last time he allied like this.
"Very well," he says, "if that's what you degenerates want, then there's no use standing around here, is there?"
"Exactly, my dear." France leads the way, a new spring in his step, and the three make their way up the stairs to the nights lodging.
This is what endures, no matter what tongue we speak 2/?
anonymous
May 26 2009, 21:34:43 UTC
"Alliances, bah. There should be more girl nations," Prussia grumbles as France strips off his clothes with a flair that makes Spain chuckle. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've seen pussy that didn't belong to one of my kids?"
"My dearest Prussia," France says and leers at him, "if you refuse to do your own countrywomen (and men and assorted others), how in the world do you expect to get laid in a regular fashion?"
"Some of us," Spain chides, "value quality over quantity."
He is standing by the window, enjoying the night air and a last glass of wine for now. Soon, he will join the other two, but at the moment he is content watching the blondes at their amusing game.
Spain has long known that France is a master at teasing, though he does wish the other nation could work a bit more on the whole morning after routine, and it is enjoyable to see him play his craft so finely.
Besides, he thinks with a rueful sigh, it wasn't long ago that France had the pleasure of playing him during less savoury circumstances. The addition of the crude, turbulent Prussian in their midst is a welcome offset from old dynamics.
"While some of us," France says and begins tugging at Prussia's cloak, "manage both at once."
"Hah, don't worry; I'm gonna get myself a girl soon." Prussia smirks and doesn't notice when France sneaks his belt open. "When I'm standing in Vienna..." he stops and bats the exploring hands away. "Not yet!"
"The Magyar warrior?" Spain raises an eyebrow at Prussia's brilliant smile when he nods assent. Ah... Perhaps there is more than a nation's lust for conquest there?
"I'd prefer Austria," France says while frowning over the number of knives and pistols Prussia seems to be hiding beneath his coats. "Can't you just imagine? That repressed façade cracking, his sensitive musician fingers playing you..."
"His whining if you come on his precious clothes," Prussia interrupts and the look on his face is so sour that Spain almost gets wine up his nose from laughing. "The way he skimps on everything - including lube! - and let us not forget that he refuses to use his mouth for anything 'uncouth' at all."
"Oh dear, oh dear!" France almost falls over in delight at the revelation, but he manages to stumble towards the bed, dragging the half-clothed blond with him. "I take it you speak from experience?"
"I was younger and stupid," Prussia declares.
"What a shame," France purrs and licks his ear. "You do uncouth so well, after all."
It is fascinating view they present for Spain. He is used to France, who possesses no shame to speak of, and South Italy, who is almost constantly flushed in anger anyway. The way in which Prussia's fair skin shifts hue to reveal every aspect of his mood is new and exotic.
The other is stocky and square-jawed and, indeed, so very uncouth and rough that he seems more like a wandering mercenary than a nation at least a few hundred years old. And yet, like this, with his cheeks stained red from France's amorous machinations and his lips slightly swollen from swift kisses, there is almost something beautiful about him.
Perhaps because Prussia was reminded of the unpleasantness of having an ungenerous lover, he has at last begun to slowly explore France's bare body with his hands. "Never again!" he says and shakes his head. "Bloody useless Austria!"
"You won't have to. Just leave him to us..." Spain joins them on the bed and allows France to begin undressing him too. It is almost amusing, he thinks, how eager France is to rid others of their clothes.
He slowly begins to explore Prussia, feels the cool of his winters in the pale skin peeking out from beneath that teasingly open shirt. Those sharp lines of his body, they must be the depths of his forests and the craggly mountains that lie scattered over him. Tonight, he is strong too, his entire body alive and pulsing with power - perhaps enough to propel him to an empirehood of his own? Spain doesn't know, but he will enjoy this vitality to its fullest.
Prussia kisses like he speaks, aggressive, though unfortunately he keeps his teeth firmly clenched. He not at all surprised to realize that he smells ever so faintly of gunpowder and iron. This one, after all, was born for war.
This is what endures, no matter what tongue we speak 3/?
anonymous
May 26 2009, 21:35:54 UTC
His legs, though, they yield easily enough when Spain straddles him and juts against the tempting swell of Prussia's sex.
It is not only Spain who notices that. "You're playing a lot more nicely with him," France complains and bends to nibble at one of Spain's nipples in revenge.
It makes him hiss in pleasure-mingled annoyance for he has always been exceedingly sensitive there, something that France has used to his advantage more than once.
"Maybe Prussia knows that I'm less likely to, ah, use anything from tonight on the battlefield in the future," he says before groaning and clutching France's head closer, urging him to suck harder.
"No," Prussia says and thrusts his hips upwards, grinding deliciously against Spain. "You just have a much prettier ass than the old man!"
"What!" France looks highly insulted for a moment, but when Prussia cackles and blows him a raspberry, he calms down. There is, however, a dangerous light in his eyes when he turns to Spain to speak.
"My dear friend," he says, fingers alternating between pinching wickedly and rolling Spain's sore nipples between his fingers. "I think that, as his seniors in proper empire-building, we should be the ones to enjoy Prussia tonight, do you not?"
"Hey now!"
Spain shakes his head. "If you only have stamina for once tonight," he says, "then you really are an old man." He bends down to taste Prussia again and is met by a more open mouth and a grateful tongue prodding against his own.
France kneads his ass in strong, skilled hands, not letting such a little tiff distract him from the important things. Spain is happy to allow him to remove the trousers so that he is free to rub his own sex against Prussia's, now with only one thin layer of cloth separating them. And that one, Spain decides quickly, will not remain in the way for long.
"Are you willing?" Spain asks, curious to see how their new ally will react.
Prussia blinks in apparent confusion for a few moments, looking surprisingly defenceless. "Huh?" So he can do cute too. Spain approves.
"Can we have you?" France clarifies and grinds himself against Spain's ass in a way that makes it quite clear that he intends to have someone tonight, thank you very much.
"Oh, that," Prussia says, lazy pleasure spreading over his face. He bites his finger in a move that would look a lot more seductive if he didn't start chewing on the nail at once. "Hmm, yeah. But I wanna come on your face first," he says after a few moments consideration.
Spain almost gasps at that request, delivered in the same careless tone that Prussia has ordered food with earlier. Well. Well, well, well... It seems that this young man might be more than just another hooligan.
For a moment, France's smile freezes, but then he throws open his arms and offers himself. "My dearest Prussia, for the pleasure of pounding into you until you have forgotten your name? Très bien, that is how we will begin."
"Great!" Prussia says and sits up, gripping Spain's hips to stop him from falling. "You'll join me, won't you?" he says. His smouldering eyes almost glow in the dim light, reminding Spain of a beautiful glass of wine held up against the naked flame.
Spain swallows. Not just your common barbarian at all... "My pleasure!" he says and hears France bite off a curse behind him. He does not think that the other nation truly minds, actually, but appearances are important.
"You do realize you're letting him have all the fun tonight?" France protests while throwing their last garments off the bed. "I know that lazy old bastard," he wheedles, "he's drunk something like three bottles of wine already-"
"Five, actually," Spain admits and grins happily.
"See? He can just lie around and play with himself a little while I suck you off. Is probably too deep into the bottle to come twice tonight anyway."
Before Spain has the chance to protest that for the pleasure of fucking Prussia and come on France's face he can, actually, come as many times as they want him to whether he has drunk one or twenty bottles, the Germanic man interrupts France's tirade.
This is what endures, no matter what tongue we speak 4/?
anonymous
May 26 2009, 21:36:54 UTC
Now that Prussia has committed himself to this allegiance, he appears to have found plenty of enthusiasm for their method of sealing the vow. He also clearly has ideas of his own, for he pulls Spain closer and gropes him roughly.
"We can't leave Spain alone, he's cute!" Prussia says. Said nation feels a flattered smile spread on his face. If only certain Mediterraneans thoughts so too. "Besides, I've heard about you!"
France preens, there is no other word for it. He stands on his knees, strokes his cock proudly and, though God knows where it came from, has produced a rose to hold between his teeth.
"My reputation," he murmurs seductively, "precedes me, I see."
"Prussia," Spain says and takes Prussia's sex in his own hands, stroking it carefully and noting the slight hitch in the blond man's breath. "A little softer, if you please."
Prussia jumps and the near frantic grip around Spain's manhood eases slightly. He finds himself relaxing as Prussia finds a pleasurable rhythm and asks, before France comes out from his sparkling daydreams, "What, precisely, have you heard about France?"
"That he's really selfish is bed and only has so many lovers because nobody can stand him twi- Oofh!"
France is showing his teeth, his hands have wrapped themselves around Prussia's throat and when he speaks, that silly rose looks to have sharp thorns indeed. "Unless you want a whole bouquet of these stuck up somewhere unpleasant," he says, a mad gleam in his eyes, "you'd better take that back, you little prick."
Prussia gags and gasps beneath the Frenchman. The way his fingers tear at the sheets makes Spain very happy that France's attack made him lose his grip on a sensitive part of the Iberian peninsula.
"P- prove yourself better then." Prussia should really not be grinning like that, Spain thinks, unless he likes not breathing in bed? He has heard that there are those who enjoy such things after all.
"Oh, I will," France promises. "In fact," he lets go of the pale throat, leaving behind a perfect set of finger-shaped marks like a depraved collar, "I do believe you were first, chéri?"
The grin on Prussia's face is half glee, half horniness and all self-assurance. "Eager to go, eh?"
"Very," the other nation nods smaller, "after all, the faster you're done..."
"The faster your ass is his," Spain helpfully adds and earns a roll of the eyes from France. So forgive him for disturbing the dramatic tension, but he did drink all that wine and he wouldn't mind getting finished sometime tonight. Besides, with the way this is going, his two alliance mates may just end up in a fist-fight before they even get that far.
It almost appears as if Prussia is sharing his thoughts, for he scoots to the edge of the bed and spreads his legs. "Come on then, France," he says and gestures at himself. "At least this way, we won't have to try and hold a conversation..."
(it's like the middle of the night here, so sorry if there are any hugeass spelling errors or so!)
Re: This is what endures, no matter what tongue we speak 4/?
anonymous
May 27 2009, 00:54:51 UTC
As the requester for a Bad Friends Trio request a few pages back, I'm so excited to finally see something for these three. They're so ignored in the meme, I think ;_;
Re: This is what endures, no matter what tongue we speak 4/?
anonymous
May 27 2009, 01:52:04 UTC
Shit, this is awesome. I agree, we need more bad trio fics, especially when they're this well-written. You've got me hooked, authornon! You captured each of their personalities fantastically, and the dialogues are perfect...they all complement one another so well. Love the interaction~!
So yeah, this is brilliant so far, authornon. I can't wait for more! (Hope my F5 key doesn't break dammit).
And this made me chuckle:
"You just have a much prettier ass than the old man!"
BAHAHAHAH sorry France, you can't compete with DAT ASS.
Re: This is what endures, no matter what tongue we speak 4/?
anonymous
May 27 2009, 16:13:22 UTC
This is wonderful! They're in character and absolutely a delight to read, arguing and affectionate and just plain fascinating to watch as they interact. And the build up of the sex is just delicious.
This is what endures, no matter what tongue we speak 5/?
anonymous
May 27 2009, 21:16:15 UTC
This was a great idea, Prussia thinks, while France deep-throats him skilfully while the handsome Spaniard murmurs dirty things in his ear and thrusts into Prussia's hand. Why hadn't he thought of sealing allegiances like this before?
"Right there," Spain murmurs and nibbles at his ear. "Show me how well you handle a sword, my friend."
France takes a break from trying to suck Prussia's brain out through his cock to laugh and sputter. "You call that a sword? Alas, my dear," he says and flicks his tongue against the tip of Prussia's sex, "it barely qualifies as a dagger."
If someone said that to Prussia - not that they would even think it, hah, because he's already checked and realized that he is definitely the owner of the most awesome manhood tonight - he would invade them, castrate them and chase them all the way to Russia. Spain though, only chuckles, before he presses France's head closer so that the kneeling nation is forced to swallow Prussia's glory again.
"I think we both know that it is enough to make you howl and beg for mercy," he says and leans closer to Prussia, all lovely tanned skin and taut muscles that beg to be touched. "Don't mind him," Spain says, "if you take offence at all the silly things he says, you will never get anything done. Besides, he knows how to make up for it, hmm?"
"Oh yeah," Prussia groans.
The Frenchman is very good at this, he is happy to admit that. Those beautiful locks shine oh-so-prettily when he moves between Prussia's legs and worships his cock. It is easy to believe he really was created to be the nation of love. In fact, if he keeps this up... Prussia moans and thrusts helplessly when France hums and does something weird with his tongue, which makes his balls feel so goddamn tight, ahh, he wants to fuck that babbling mouth raw!
A bronzed hand pulls the blond back just before Prussia loses himself inside France and he feels Spain pinch him sharply in the side.
"Don't forget," the cheeky devil murmurs, "what we are going to do."
Spain is sitting so close to him that he feels all but moulded to Prussia's side. He smells far too good for a guy; not all cloying perfume, like France and pussy Austria, but of fresh sea-salt with a hint of something tangy-sweet. In time, Prussia will learn that is the scent of orange groves in bloom, but right now it is just the smell of Spain and it only pushes him farther towards the edge.
Spain's cock, which while not as impressive as Prussia's (of course not) is still a very nice and solid feel in Prussia's hand. And the arm around his waist, solid and warm, is a very nice presence, when he's not being pinched by it. But... Prussia isn't used to being held close and he wonders, for a fleeting moment, how it would be like to have a more permanent friendship with a guy like Spain.
Though in that moment, the other nation leans close and bites his lip, while the hand that was first stroking sweetly and then pinching in warning, digs into his side with surprisingly sharp nails.
"Don't drift off, Prussia," France warns him, though his words are muffled as he is speaking against a mouthful off cock. "Spain hates to be ignored!"
"More sucking, less talking," Prussia threatens, although it comes out as more of a pleading gasp. He turns towards the brunette and realizes that there is, in this moment, nothing he would like to do as much as kiss that fucking gorgeous mouth and make Spain go all weak and wobbly inside - much, in fact, like what France is making him feel right now.
"It's a deal then," Spain says and drains his glass in one careless sweep.
"Yes," France smiles, sipping his wine carefully. "To our new future."
Prussia is silent and only brings the wine to his lips without tasting. He has waited too long for greatness but now, finally, he has a leader who shares his dreams. This is a moment he wants to savour, not a memory to drown in sour wine.
"To Austria's downfall," he says at last and raises his glass in a new toast, all the while with a small grin playing around his lips.
The open smile on Spain's face acquires a definite sharpness when he refills his glass.
"Yes," he murmurs and watches the swirling wine, "it will be a pleasure to go against him again."
A few drops escape when he drinks and trail slowly down his chin, ruby-red pearls in the candlelight.
"You're too careless," France murmurs and catches Spain's face with a delicate hand. When he bends over the table to lick off the wine, the Iberian nation's eyes slowly slide shut.
Beside them, Prussia finds that his mouth has suddenly gone dry and he hastens to put down his own almost untouched wine.
"What's the matter, Prussia," France asks. "Oh, I see..." he smiles and the cramped tavern seems to grow smaller, more intimate around them.
"You aren't used to proper alliances, are you?" His one hand is still gently petting Spain's face, while the other has begun to loosen his own cravat. France completely ignores the odd looks they draw from the other patrons and his blue eyes seem unnervingly sharp in the flickering light.
"Shut up," Prussia huffs. "Of course I am." He squirms and shakes his head at the two nations' hidden laughter. "We just don't usually lick each others faces where I come from."
"You're playing with the big boys now," Spain says and nips playfully at France's fingers.
Then he rises, ignoring the disappointed sound from France and puts on his beret. "Though, I think we had better retreat for the night. Before our French friend does something to embarrass the other guests even worse."
Prussia nods eagerly. "Yeah," he says and puffs his chest, "tomorrow is a big day. We'll kick that stroppy Austrian's ass!"
His tricorn is plopped unceremoniously on his head and he throws a few coins on the table. It is a good thing, Prussia has time to think, that he brought some beer with him, because what they drink here is just too vile. Then with a suddenness that would unnerve him more if they had not just signed an allegiance, Spain and France are at his sides, each taking hold of an arm.
"What the...?" he begins, but France's lips silence him effectively.
"I think you do not quite understand, little Prussia," Spain says, his voice full of laughter again, laughter that only deepens when Prussia wrenches free and sputters at France.
When their eyes meet, however, Prussia is firmly reminded that this is the conquistador who still holds the lands of the South Americas in his grasp.
"We don't want to upset the children," France whispers in his ear and though his moist breath should be disgusting against Prussia's skin, there is a disconcerting tingle inside of him. "But, if you want a proper allegiance..."
"...we'll seal it the old-fashioned way," Spain continues and snakes an arm around Prussia's waist.
Much can be said about Prussia, but pragmatic he has always been. He remembers his boss, recently having accepted his burdens and already working so hard to fulfil his country's destiny, and he fights down the worried flutter inside. Just nerves, he thinks. It has, after all, been a while since the last time he allied like this.
"Very well," he says, "if that's what you degenerates want, then there's no use standing around here, is there?"
"Exactly, my dear." France leads the way, a new spring in his step, and the three make their way up the stairs to the nights lodging.
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FINALLY these three get their due in the kink meme!!!
*breaks f5 button*
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I love you writeranon ♥
F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5F5
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Go France and Spain and show Prussia how it's done!
*F5's like there's no tomorrow*
Captcha; that accepted... oh yes captcha
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but, hehehe, Prussia isn't quite the blushing virgin here ;) you'll see in the next part
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"My dearest Prussia," France says and leers at him, "if you refuse to do your own countrywomen (and men and assorted others), how in the world do you expect to get laid in a regular fashion?"
"Some of us," Spain chides, "value quality over quantity."
He is standing by the window, enjoying the night air and a last glass of wine for now. Soon, he will join the other two, but at the moment he is content watching the blondes at their amusing game.
Spain has long known that France is a master at teasing, though he does wish the other nation could work a bit more on the whole morning after routine, and it is enjoyable to see him play his craft so finely.
Besides, he thinks with a rueful sigh, it wasn't long ago that France had the pleasure of playing him during less savoury circumstances. The addition of the crude, turbulent Prussian in their midst is a welcome offset from old dynamics.
"While some of us," France says and begins tugging at Prussia's cloak, "manage both at once."
"Hah, don't worry; I'm gonna get myself a girl soon." Prussia smirks and doesn't notice when France sneaks his belt open. "When I'm standing in Vienna..." he stops and bats the exploring hands away. "Not yet!"
"The Magyar warrior?" Spain raises an eyebrow at Prussia's brilliant smile when he nods assent. Ah... Perhaps there is more than a nation's lust for conquest there?
"I'd prefer Austria," France says while frowning over the number of knives and pistols Prussia seems to be hiding beneath his coats. "Can't you just imagine? That repressed façade cracking, his sensitive musician fingers playing you..."
"His whining if you come on his precious clothes," Prussia interrupts and the look on his face is so sour that Spain almost gets wine up his nose from laughing. "The way he skimps on everything - including lube! - and let us not forget that he refuses to use his mouth for anything 'uncouth' at all."
"Oh dear, oh dear!" France almost falls over in delight at the revelation, but he manages to stumble towards the bed, dragging the half-clothed blond with him. "I take it you speak from experience?"
"I was younger and stupid," Prussia declares.
"What a shame," France purrs and licks his ear. "You do uncouth so well, after all."
It is fascinating view they present for Spain. He is used to France, who possesses no shame to speak of, and South Italy, who is almost constantly flushed in anger anyway. The way in which Prussia's fair skin shifts hue to reveal every aspect of his mood is new and exotic.
The other is stocky and square-jawed and, indeed, so very uncouth and rough that he seems more like a wandering mercenary than a nation at least a few hundred years old. And yet, like this, with his cheeks stained red from France's amorous machinations and his lips slightly swollen from swift kisses, there is almost something beautiful about him.
Perhaps because Prussia was reminded of the unpleasantness of having an ungenerous lover, he has at last begun to slowly explore France's bare body with his hands.
"Never again!" he says and shakes his head. "Bloody useless Austria!"
"You won't have to. Just leave him to us..." Spain joins them on the bed and allows France to begin undressing him too. It is almost amusing, he thinks, how eager France is to rid others of their clothes.
He slowly begins to explore Prussia, feels the cool of his winters in the pale skin peeking out from beneath that teasingly open shirt. Those sharp lines of his body, they must be the depths of his forests and the craggly mountains that lie scattered over him.
Tonight, he is strong too, his entire body alive and pulsing with power - perhaps enough to propel him to an empirehood of his own? Spain doesn't know, but he will enjoy this vitality to its fullest.
Prussia kisses like he speaks, aggressive, though unfortunately he keeps his teeth firmly clenched. He not at all surprised to realize that he smells ever so faintly of gunpowder and iron. This one, after all, was born for war.
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It is not only Spain who notices that. "You're playing a lot more nicely with him," France complains and bends to nibble at one of Spain's nipples in revenge.
It makes him hiss in pleasure-mingled annoyance for he has always been exceedingly sensitive there, something that France has used to his advantage more than once.
"Maybe Prussia knows that I'm less likely to, ah, use anything from tonight on the battlefield in the future," he says before groaning and clutching France's head closer, urging him to suck harder.
"No," Prussia says and thrusts his hips upwards, grinding deliciously against Spain. "You just have a much prettier ass than the old man!"
"What!" France looks highly insulted for a moment, but when Prussia cackles and blows him a raspberry, he calms down. There is, however, a dangerous light in his eyes when he turns to Spain to speak.
"My dear friend," he says, fingers alternating between pinching wickedly and rolling Spain's sore nipples between his fingers. "I think that, as his seniors in proper empire-building, we should be the ones to enjoy Prussia tonight, do you not?"
"Hey now!"
Spain shakes his head. "If you only have stamina for once tonight," he says, "then you really are an old man." He bends down to taste Prussia again and is met by a more open mouth and a grateful tongue prodding against his own.
France kneads his ass in strong, skilled hands, not letting such a little tiff distract him from the important things. Spain is happy to allow him to remove the trousers so that he is free to rub his own sex against Prussia's, now with only one thin layer of cloth separating them. And that one, Spain decides quickly, will not remain in the way for long.
"Are you willing?" Spain asks, curious to see how their new ally will react.
Prussia blinks in apparent confusion for a few moments, looking surprisingly defenceless. "Huh?"
So he can do cute too. Spain approves.
"Can we have you?" France clarifies and grinds himself against Spain's ass in a way that makes it quite clear that he intends to have someone tonight, thank you very much.
"Oh, that," Prussia says, lazy pleasure spreading over his face. He bites his finger in a move that would look a lot more seductive if he didn't start chewing on the nail at once.
"Hmm, yeah. But I wanna come on your face first," he says after a few moments consideration.
Spain almost gasps at that request, delivered in the same careless tone that Prussia has ordered food with earlier. Well. Well, well, well... It seems that this young man might be more than just another hooligan.
For a moment, France's smile freezes, but then he throws open his arms and offers himself. "My dearest Prussia, for the pleasure of pounding into you until you have forgotten your name? Très bien, that is how we will begin."
"Great!" Prussia says and sits up, gripping Spain's hips to stop him from falling. "You'll join me, won't you?" he says. His smouldering eyes almost glow in the dim light, reminding Spain of a beautiful glass of wine held up against the naked flame.
Spain swallows. Not just your common barbarian at all...
"My pleasure!" he says and hears France bite off a curse behind him. He does not think that the other nation truly minds, actually, but appearances are important.
"You do realize you're letting him have all the fun tonight?" France protests while throwing their last garments off the bed. "I know that lazy old bastard," he wheedles, "he's drunk something like three bottles of wine already-"
"Five, actually," Spain admits and grins happily.
"See? He can just lie around and play with himself a little while I suck you off. Is probably too deep into the bottle to come twice tonight anyway."
Before Spain has the chance to protest that for the pleasure of fucking Prussia and come on France's face he can, actually, come as many times as they want him to whether he has drunk one or twenty bottles, the Germanic man interrupts France's tirade.
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"We can't leave Spain alone, he's cute!" Prussia says. Said nation feels a flattered smile spread on his face. If only certain Mediterraneans thoughts so too.
"Besides, I've heard about you!"
France preens, there is no other word for it. He stands on his knees, strokes his cock proudly and, though God knows where it came from, has produced a rose to hold between his teeth.
"My reputation," he murmurs seductively, "precedes me, I see."
"Prussia," Spain says and takes Prussia's sex in his own hands, stroking it carefully and noting the slight hitch in the blond man's breath. "A little softer, if you please."
Prussia jumps and the near frantic grip around Spain's manhood eases slightly. He finds himself relaxing as Prussia finds a pleasurable rhythm and asks, before France comes out from his sparkling daydreams,
"What, precisely, have you heard about France?"
"That he's really selfish is bed and only has so many lovers because nobody can stand him twi- Oofh!"
France is showing his teeth, his hands have wrapped themselves around Prussia's throat and when he speaks, that silly rose looks to have sharp thorns indeed.
"Unless you want a whole bouquet of these stuck up somewhere unpleasant," he says, a mad gleam in his eyes, "you'd better take that back, you little prick."
Prussia gags and gasps beneath the Frenchman. The way his fingers tear at the sheets makes Spain very happy that France's attack made him lose his grip on a sensitive part of the Iberian peninsula.
"P- prove yourself better then." Prussia should really not be grinning like that, Spain thinks, unless he likes not breathing in bed? He has heard that there are those who enjoy such things after all.
"Oh, I will," France promises. "In fact," he lets go of the pale throat, leaving behind a perfect set of finger-shaped marks like a depraved collar, "I do believe you were first, chéri?"
The grin on Prussia's face is half glee, half horniness and all self-assurance. "Eager to go, eh?"
"Very," the other nation nods smaller, "after all, the faster you're done..."
"The faster your ass is his," Spain helpfully adds and earns a roll of the eyes from France. So forgive him for disturbing the dramatic tension, but he did drink all that wine and he wouldn't mind getting finished sometime tonight. Besides, with the way this is going, his two alliance mates may just end up in a fist-fight before they even get that far.
It almost appears as if Prussia is sharing his thoughts, for he scoots to the edge of the bed and spreads his legs. "Come on then, France," he says and gestures at himself. "At least this way, we won't have to try and hold a conversation..."
(it's like the middle of the night here, so sorry if there are any hugeass spelling errors or so!)
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I can't wait to read more <3
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So yeah, this is brilliant so far, authornon. I can't wait for more! (Hope my F5 key doesn't break dammit).
And this made me chuckle:
"You just have a much prettier ass than the old man!"
BAHAHAHAH sorry France, you can't compete with DAT ASS.
Should probably mention I'm not OP by the way
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Can't wait for more!
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OP LOVES YOU
CONTINUE PLEASE
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"Right there," Spain murmurs and nibbles at his ear. "Show me how well you handle a sword, my friend."
France takes a break from trying to suck Prussia's brain out through his cock to laugh and sputter. "You call that a sword? Alas, my dear," he says and flicks his tongue against the tip of Prussia's sex, "it barely qualifies as a dagger."
If someone said that to Prussia - not that they would even think it, hah, because he's already checked and realized that he is definitely the owner of the most awesome manhood tonight - he would invade them, castrate them and chase them all the way to Russia. Spain though, only chuckles, before he presses France's head closer so that the kneeling nation is forced to swallow Prussia's glory again.
"I think we both know that it is enough to make you howl and beg for mercy," he says and leans closer to Prussia, all lovely tanned skin and taut muscles that beg to be touched.
"Don't mind him," Spain says, "if you take offence at all the silly things he says, you will never get anything done. Besides, he knows how to make up for it, hmm?"
"Oh yeah," Prussia groans.
The Frenchman is very good at this, he is happy to admit that. Those beautiful locks shine oh-so-prettily when he moves between Prussia's legs and worships his cock. It is easy to believe he really was created to be the nation of love. In fact, if he keeps this up...
Prussia moans and thrusts helplessly when France hums and does something weird with his tongue, which makes his balls feel so goddamn tight, ahh, he wants to fuck that babbling mouth raw!
A bronzed hand pulls the blond back just before Prussia loses himself inside France and he feels Spain pinch him sharply in the side.
"Don't forget," the cheeky devil murmurs, "what we are going to do."
Spain is sitting so close to him that he feels all but moulded to Prussia's side. He smells far too good for a guy; not all cloying perfume, like France and pussy Austria, but of fresh sea-salt with a hint of something tangy-sweet. In time, Prussia will learn that is the scent of orange groves in bloom, but right now it is just the smell of Spain and it only pushes him farther towards the edge.
Spain's cock, which while not as impressive as Prussia's (of course not) is still a very nice and solid feel in Prussia's hand. And the arm around his waist, solid and warm, is a very nice presence, when he's not being pinched by it. But... Prussia isn't used to being held close and he wonders, for a fleeting moment, how it would be like to have a more permanent friendship with a guy like Spain.
Though in that moment, the other nation leans close and bites his lip, while the hand that was first stroking sweetly and then pinching in warning, digs into his side with surprisingly sharp nails.
"Don't drift off, Prussia," France warns him, though his words are muffled as he is speaking against a mouthful off cock. "Spain hates to be ignored!"
"More sucking, less talking," Prussia threatens, although it comes out as more of a pleading gasp. He turns towards the brunette and realizes that there is, in this moment, nothing he would like to do as much as kiss that fucking gorgeous mouth and make Spain go all weak and wobbly inside - much, in fact, like what France is making him feel right now.
(just a short piece tonight, so tired zzznore)
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