✎ fanfic - hetalia - euphoria [NC-17]
Title: Euphoria
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters: Portugal [OC], England
Pairing?: England/Portugal
Rating: NC-17? @.@;;;; Actually probably more like a hard R. I suck at ratings.
Summary: Giddiness over the win leads to giddy impulsive sex in the corridors of the stadium. YES, I WENT THERE.
Timeframe: June 21st, 2010. :>
Word Count: 666
Notes: Most people celebrate their team winning by going to the pub or something. I apparently do it by writing porn. :|b NOW UNLOCKED since I decided to man up and stop locking this shit, s-sob.
Warnings: Gratuitous sex between two nations. :| You heard me. Also my awful porn writing. >_>;
✎ ✎ ✎
Luís drags him into a kiss in an empty corridor as they’re making their way out of the stadium.
He’s already taken the liberty of pulling Arthur into a kiss at the final whistle, buoyed along by the elation of winning and the giddy atmosphere surrounding them, but he can’t help the impulse that seizes him, mixing with the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears.
Arthur lets himself be swept up into it, kissing back with equal passion, hands gripping Luís’s shoulders as he’s pressed back into the wall. But when they break apart, breathing heavily, Arthur raises his eyebrows, cheeks flushing furiously.
“Someone’s bound to walk in on us like this,” he hisses, although he doesn’t sound as annoyed as his protests would otherwise suggest. “I know you’re happy about winning, Port, but honestly -“
“Oh, Inglaterra, hush,” Luís smirks, pressing a firm kiss to his lips again. “Everyone’s already left by now, I doubt anyone will be left to stumble in on us.” He lets his hands slip down and roam teasingly over Arthur’s sides and torso, one of them sliding round to grip the back of his thigh. Arthur’s breathing shakes in a way that sends a heady spark of arousal spiraling through him and mixing with the euphoria still left over from the win. It only takes a second more before Arthur pulls him forcefully against his own body, hungry mouth meeting hungry mouth in a wet kiss that’s all want and lust and trying to get closer, more.
Arthur’s always been so beautiful when he lets himself go.
Luís shifts against him, bodies rubbing together, pushing against each other and against the wall, gasps and quiet moans filling each others’ ears. Arthur’s hands run up and down his back as they move together, heat burning inside Luís’s body and pleasure building in him higher and higher. Luís dips his head to graze his teeth lightly against Arthur’s neck which just looks so inviting exposed like that with his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed as he moves his hips more insistently. Arthur lets out a short moan when Luís sucks on his neck, and as the pleasure coiling around his insides becomes unbearable, all he can think is how could anyone not want this? Not want England writhing beneath them, breathless and demanding?
The pace is fast now, desperate and needy for release, for pleasure just to flood through them, and they grip each other tightly, Luís holding Arthur steady against the wall, closer and closer and he’s beginning to think that he should have been patient after all, should have made love to him properly and teased him until he begged -
And then he comes undone and shudders against his lover, whispering Arthur’s name again and again as white-hot pleasure floods his mind. Dazedly, he pushes his knee between Arthur’s legs and presses it against him as Arthur rocks himself against him so desperately until finally, he gasps and shivers jerkily into Luís’s arms, legs trembling as his orgasm breaks over him.
There’s a silence in which Luís does nothing more than cradle Arthur in a loose embrace, drifting on a lazy tide of warmth and contentment as their hearts slowly stop pounding so hard in their chests and he becomes aware again of more than just the warm weight of the body against him. Arthur sighs and sinks further into him. “Are you going to do this every time you win?” he asks softly, not sounding quite as irritated as he probably means to.
“Are you complaining?” he quips back, nuzzling his lover’s hair. Arthur shoves him gently and Luís doesn’t even have to look up to see the indignant expression he knows is there on his face.
He looks up anyway, his eyes twinkling, and smirks. “Don’t worry,” he assures him, “I’ll make up for this properly later.”
He wishes he had a camera to capture Arthur’s face after he says that.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters: Portugal [OC], England
Pairing?: England/Portugal
Rating: NC-17? @.@;;;; Actually probably more like a hard R. I suck at ratings.
Summary: Giddiness over the win leads to giddy impulsive sex in the corridors of the stadium. YES, I WENT THERE.
Timeframe: June 21st, 2010. :>
Word Count: 666
Notes: Most people celebrate their team winning by going to the pub or something. I apparently do it by writing porn. :|b NOW UNLOCKED since I decided to man up and stop locking this shit, s-sob.
Warnings: Gratuitous sex between two nations. :| You heard me. Also my awful porn writing. >_>;
✎ ✎ ✎
Luís drags him into a kiss in an empty corridor as they’re making their way out of the stadium.
He’s already taken the liberty of pulling Arthur into a kiss at the final whistle, buoyed along by the elation of winning and the giddy atmosphere surrounding them, but he can’t help the impulse that seizes him, mixing with the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears.
Arthur lets himself be swept up into it, kissing back with equal passion, hands gripping Luís’s shoulders as he’s pressed back into the wall. But when they break apart, breathing heavily, Arthur raises his eyebrows, cheeks flushing furiously.
“Someone’s bound to walk in on us like this,” he hisses, although he doesn’t sound as annoyed as his protests would otherwise suggest. “I know you’re happy about winning, Port, but honestly -“
“Oh, Inglaterra, hush,” Luís smirks, pressing a firm kiss to his lips again. “Everyone’s already left by now, I doubt anyone will be left to stumble in on us.” He lets his hands slip down and roam teasingly over Arthur’s sides and torso, one of them sliding round to grip the back of his thigh. Arthur’s breathing shakes in a way that sends a heady spark of arousal spiraling through him and mixing with the euphoria still left over from the win. It only takes a second more before Arthur pulls him forcefully against his own body, hungry mouth meeting hungry mouth in a wet kiss that’s all want and lust and trying to get closer, more.
Arthur’s always been so beautiful when he lets himself go.
Luís shifts against him, bodies rubbing together, pushing against each other and against the wall, gasps and quiet moans filling each others’ ears. Arthur’s hands run up and down his back as they move together, heat burning inside Luís’s body and pleasure building in him higher and higher. Luís dips his head to graze his teeth lightly against Arthur’s neck which just looks so inviting exposed like that with his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed as he moves his hips more insistently. Arthur lets out a short moan when Luís sucks on his neck, and as the pleasure coiling around his insides becomes unbearable, all he can think is how could anyone not want this? Not want England writhing beneath them, breathless and demanding?
The pace is fast now, desperate and needy for release, for pleasure just to flood through them, and they grip each other tightly, Luís holding Arthur steady against the wall, closer and closer and he’s beginning to think that he should have been patient after all, should have made love to him properly and teased him until he begged -
And then he comes undone and shudders against his lover, whispering Arthur’s name again and again as white-hot pleasure floods his mind. Dazedly, he pushes his knee between Arthur’s legs and presses it against him as Arthur rocks himself against him so desperately until finally, he gasps and shivers jerkily into Luís’s arms, legs trembling as his orgasm breaks over him.
There’s a silence in which Luís does nothing more than cradle Arthur in a loose embrace, drifting on a lazy tide of warmth and contentment as their hearts slowly stop pounding so hard in their chests and he becomes aware again of more than just the warm weight of the body against him. Arthur sighs and sinks further into him. “Are you going to do this every time you win?” he asks softly, not sounding quite as irritated as he probably means to.
“Are you complaining?” he quips back, nuzzling his lover’s hair. Arthur shoves him gently and Luís doesn’t even have to look up to see the indignant expression he knows is there on his face.
He looks up anyway, his eyes twinkling, and smirks. “Don’t worry,” he assures him, “I’ll make up for this properly later.”
He wishes he had a camera to capture Arthur’s face after he says that.