[Fanfic] Winding Down
Title: Winding Down
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre(s): AU/Humor/PWP
Character(s)|Pairing(s): fem!Prussia/fem!England
Rating/Warning(s): R/Mature, language, dubious humor, lesbian sex, AU
Word Count: 2,063
Summary: Inspired by a gloriously hot picture by katamanda . Take post battle hormones and devious minded Prussia, put together with England in her knickers. Stir well with dash of unorthodox use of bandages.
“Oh look, we’re going to match,” said Prussia.
England blinked quizzically as she reached for another roll of bandages. “Mm?”
“Scars, idiot.” Prussia tapped a long fingernail against the pink curved mark on her cheek and pointed at England’s bandaged left cheek. “Just yours is on the other side-”
“Then it’s not matching,” snorted England. Her ears still rang but there wasn’t much they could do about that. “It’s a mirror image.”
“Still matching.”
“It’s not even that deep.”
Prussia had come off the worst for their engagement. Then again, she’d been the active agent; England had been on perch duty, sniper rifle in hand. Not that distance had been any kind of safety.
“We better get bonuses for this one,” Prussia grumbled. “Or it’ll come out of your paycheck, I’ll bet.”
“You’re the idiot who jumped the gun. If anything, Romius will cut both our pay.” England started wrapping bandages around Prussia’s upper arm.
“Shit- Don’t cut off the circulation!”
“Trust me, it’s more than tempting to apply a tourniquet to your brain.” But England relented and loosened the wrappings.
Prussia watched her with hooded red-violet eyes. They might have been contacts for their unnatural color and that was what most people believed, on top of her almost white hair and penchant for vaguely punk rock clothes. England knew better, of course.
But Prussia looked more amused than anything else at the moment. It had to hurt, when adrenaline started to wind down and fade and the body gave a tallied total to the brain. England ached all over, her ears rang and the cut on her cheek stung like a bitch (maybe a bit of glass was still stuck in there, damn Prussia’s eyes); she could only imagine how Prussia felt. The idiot shouldn’t be grinning like that, just shy of lounging in her seat, wearing nothing but bandages and drawstring trousers. Not a particularly modest pair either, the kind that sat low on the hips, clung to the thighs and stopped just below the knees, exposing pale shins and thin ankles-
England shook away all too unwanted but tempting thoughts. It wasn’t as though she was particularly modest, having stripped to her khaki tank and knickers by this time. For practicality’s sake, of course.
She might have reached out to touch Prussia’s cheek, on pretense of brushing away a stray strand of hair. But as she extended her fingers, she then yelped as a cold hand reached up her tank.
Prussia leered up her. “Enjoying the view, kaninchen?”
“It’s not as though you can look away,” England blustered. “When you’re just sitting exposing yourself like that-”
“Because my tits are awesome. Admit it.”
“Awesomely modest,” England muttered.
“Awesome,” growled the other woman. Warm fingers danced along England’s bare back, scratching down the spine and across her sides.
“You can’t be serious,” sputtered the blonde. “You really can’t-”
Then Prussia, never one for words when push came to shove, kissed her. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss, with only a hint of teeth. When they parted, England was annoyed to feel her cheeks flushing and didn’t fight when Prussia pulled her close, arms tight around her waist.
The paler woman grinned, legs catching one of England’s between them. “You know what the word ‘can’t’ means to me?” she grated, the smile only partially smoothing the edges of her voice.
“It’s a bloody invitation,” England growled.
Prussia laughed throatily, a surprisingly rich, not entirely unpleasant sound. Her fingers went along just the right spots that made England arch her back completely involuntarily. The clever, thin fingers (shorter than England’s, even skinnier than England’s, but hellishly strong for all their apparent fragility) sent a trail of warmth all down the spine and small of the back, as warmth also pooled in her abdomen. And somehow, exhaustion became the least of her concerns, not when there was a vague and pressing need nagging at her with growing and strident tones (with a timbre of voice that was all too like a certain obnoxious white blonde German’s…).
Somehow the entire time the roll of bandage hadn’t left England’s hands. Prussia plucked it out with all the deftness of a pickpocket. And before England could really react-
“You bitch!”
Prussia had to get closer to have full mobility of her arms, which meant her face was right between England’s breasts. She laughed again, but it was the shriller, grating giggle of a complete ass pleased with her own cleverness. Her fingers finished wrapping England’s wrists with the thin, faintly sticky gauze.
“Oh come on, kaninchen, you’re too uptight,” laughed Prussia. “It’s not as though you have to do much work this time either.” She pulled England onto her lap and kissed her again. The second kiss was all teeth on both their parts. Blood wasn’t quite drawn but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Prussia grabbed England’s arse, digging her fingernails into it and her upper thigh.
They both withdrew, panting. England glared; Prussia smirked crookedly. But she didn’t hesitate for long because her mouth then latched onto England’s ear. She tugged on the lobe with her teeth before trailing open mouthed kisses and bites all down the curve of a suddenly sensitive and prickling neck. England’s fingers curled against each other as she fought not to moan.
Then there was the quiet sound of something metallic sliding against another metallic thing, like scissors being quickly opened. Prussia pressed the unfolded blade of a switchknife just barely against England’s collarbone. It slowly trailed down, slicing open the ribbed fabric of her tank and the front of her bra.
“Bitch,” swore England, unable to pull away or protest much past that.
That only earned her a slow smile. Prussia closed the blade and put it aside before pushing aside the cut cups of England’s bra. She shamelessly groped the now exposed breasts, pinching the pale pink nipples she found. No gentleness in those movements, no artfulness, but they weren’t clumsy. Prussia’s very capable fingers knew England would have none of that nonsense and didn’t pretend at softness and worship.
When lips and teeth wrapped around one stiff nipple, England let out a breathy sigh. A tongue trailed in little circles, flicking the nub occasionally. Prussia’s hands ran along her sides, trailing the gentle curve of waist and hips. Fingertips played on the waistband of England’s pink knickers before one hand went right between her legs; the graze of fingernails through the cotton made England shiver.
For once Prussia chose to be gentle, where it didn’t help. This was at odds with her mouth, which bit and kissed and licked England’s breasts with all the usual rough enthusiasm. But her fingers between England’s legs only rubbed, teasing and taunting. It was too gentle, too soft, and England found herself rubbing herself on those fingers with growing desperation.
“Want me, kaninchen?” growled Prussia, pulling her mouth away in a feral smile.
Two fingers found England’s clit and rubbed at it before very slowly circling around it. Through her knickers, it was only tortuously too little.
“You’re ready to fuck yourself on my fingers, aren’t you?” continued Prussia. “I won’t have to even move them. I can just watch you go up and down as you try to get off. Right, my horny little bunny?”
England gritted her teeth because her hips had continued to move, yes, practically fucking against Prussia’s hand. “I could almost say the same about your libido,” she managed to snap. She paused with a great effort before leaning over to whisper hoarsely into Prussia’s ear, “Because you’re going to shove me on the floor, on my knees, and bury my face between your legs anyways.”
England almost screamed when two fingers slipped past her panties and thrust into her. They twisted and then curled, slowly. England panted as they settled. Prussia almost affectionately kissed along her neck; her chuckle tickled against damp skin.
“Go on then,” Prussia hissed, uncurling her fingers but otherwise not moving them.
England shifted her hips reluctantly but when a third finger joined the other two, stretching her now, she rocked back and forth on the other woman’s hand with increasing desperation. Her back arched and she opened her eyes to watch Prussia watching her with every sign of evil amusement mingled with arousal. The heavy-lidded wine violet eyes watched her hungrily, at her breasts bouncing with each desperate thrust onto those clever fingers, her wet swollen lips parted in a barely audible moan, at the bite marks now livid against her throat.
She was getting so close, especially with Prussia’s thumb grazing her clit idly. England ground down, trying to get more pressure right there. But then Prussia removed her fingers in one smooth movement.
England groaned at the sudden loss before cursing quite vehemently with her next breath. Prussia cut her off by pressing sticky fingers against her mouth, into her mouth. England tasted her own arousal, sharp and not necessarily unpleasant, and cleaned off Prussia’s fingers while glaring.
“Get on the floor,” said Prussia, pulling her fingers free. Her voice shook just a little.
England shifted on her knees, wincing a little (she was going to be stiff tomorrow, she knew it), and obeyed, settling on her knees. She watched as Prussia got up and pulled down the soft blue trousers and her knickers in one smooth movement, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. Then Prussia lay down, head between England’s legs. She pulled the now rather damp pink knickers as far down as they would go and then undid the bandages tying England’s wrists together.
England didn’t have to be ordered on what to do next. Not when a bite to her inner thigh made her lurch forwards, and she caught herself on her forearms just in time. She kissed Prussia’s pale thighs, wincing when she was bitten again. Not a playful nibble but enough to leave marks. Hands parting the other woman’s legs, she leaned forwards and settled in a way as to not leave a crick in her neck.
Prussia was wet, almost as wet as England was. Hardly surprising; just watching her sometimes partner, sometimes lover, lose composure and dignity alike was enough to nearly get her off, sadist that she was. England trailed her nails down the thin thighs, as her tongue ran in one long stroke against wet folds. Prussia shuddered gratifyingly as England’s tongue made another sweep in the opposite direction.
Sharp fingernails dug into England’s legs and warm breath tickled all along the skin there. England’s mouth found Prussia’s clit. She flicked it with her tongue and was rewarded with a sharp gasp muffled by a mouthful of her thigh. Thus spurred, she continued, tongue tracing tight circles and alternating with little flicks. Eventually, her fingers slipped into Prussia, twisting and curling, fucking the other woman slowly.
England wanted to rub her thighs together, anything to get off, anything to finish. Teeth and nails were all and well but not enough, not when they were confined to thighs, just as infuriating as the gentle strokes from earlier. Frustrated, she caught Prussia’s clit between teeth and lips and sucked.
Prussia thrashed, hips arching upward. Her own tongue now traced along England’s clit but didn’t just settle there. She licked along the inner folds in long sweeps of her tongue. England moaned as that tongue wriggled into her and continued to curl her fingers in Prussia, echoing those movements. At almost any other time, England would have made a quip about Prussia’s mouth and better uses for it but for the moment, she was distracted with better things than snark.
They came almost at the same time, both of them gasping or hissing through their teeth. England rolled off Prussia but they remained in a tangle of sweaty limbs.
“We need to bring the strap-on next time,” said Prussia, her hand trailing down one of England’s legs.
“No thank you.”
“Why not?”
“Because with our damned luck we’ll get caught with it.”
“Don’t be such a pussy, kaninchen.”
“I’m biologically female, you nitwit. So are you.”
Prussia snorted and slapped England’s arse by way of reply. They got up eventually to only tangle together again in the small bed. And for a few hours at least, England dozed peacefully with the gentle sounds of Prussia’s breathing and heartbeat matching hers.
ooc:
-Basically this started with the picture but then kind of mixed with my initial impression of Hetalia, back before I joined the fandom. When I saw cosplay pictures pop up online, I thought that Hetalia was a series about secret military operatives given country codenames (It perhaps did not help that the first cosplayers I saw were Belarus (with knife) and America). ^^; Yes, my thought processes are not… typical.
-kaninchen: “bunny,” in this universe, Prussia likes to call people by amusing and very childish German nicknames. This tends to get a rise out of England, particularly because Prussia found out that she wore bunny patterned knickers while they were training together and has never let her forget it.
-Prussia… is not a good person to share a bed with. She sprawls. She hogs blankets. And she drools.
-Here’s to you, katamanda . The plot bunny wouldn’t leave my brain. >_> But I think it’s breeding… /goes all gory like the creepy rabbit girl in Petshop of Horrors
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre(s): AU/Humor/PWP
Character(s)|Pairing(s): fem!Prussia/fem!England
Rating/Warning(s): R/Mature, language, dubious humor, lesbian sex, AU
Word Count: 2,063
Summary: Inspired by a gloriously hot picture by katamanda . Take post battle hormones and devious minded Prussia, put together with England in her knickers. Stir well with dash of unorthodox use of bandages.
“Oh look, we’re going to match,” said Prussia.
England blinked quizzically as she reached for another roll of bandages. “Mm?”
“Scars, idiot.” Prussia tapped a long fingernail against the pink curved mark on her cheek and pointed at England’s bandaged left cheek. “Just yours is on the other side-”
“Then it’s not matching,” snorted England. Her ears still rang but there wasn’t much they could do about that. “It’s a mirror image.”
“Still matching.”
“It’s not even that deep.”
Prussia had come off the worst for their engagement. Then again, she’d been the active agent; England had been on perch duty, sniper rifle in hand. Not that distance had been any kind of safety.
“We better get bonuses for this one,” Prussia grumbled. “Or it’ll come out of your paycheck, I’ll bet.”
“You’re the idiot who jumped the gun. If anything, Romius will cut both our pay.” England started wrapping bandages around Prussia’s upper arm.
“Shit- Don’t cut off the circulation!”
“Trust me, it’s more than tempting to apply a tourniquet to your brain.” But England relented and loosened the wrappings.
Prussia watched her with hooded red-violet eyes. They might have been contacts for their unnatural color and that was what most people believed, on top of her almost white hair and penchant for vaguely punk rock clothes. England knew better, of course.
But Prussia looked more amused than anything else at the moment. It had to hurt, when adrenaline started to wind down and fade and the body gave a tallied total to the brain. England ached all over, her ears rang and the cut on her cheek stung like a bitch (maybe a bit of glass was still stuck in there, damn Prussia’s eyes); she could only imagine how Prussia felt. The idiot shouldn’t be grinning like that, just shy of lounging in her seat, wearing nothing but bandages and drawstring trousers. Not a particularly modest pair either, the kind that sat low on the hips, clung to the thighs and stopped just below the knees, exposing pale shins and thin ankles-
England shook away all too unwanted but tempting thoughts. It wasn’t as though she was particularly modest, having stripped to her khaki tank and knickers by this time. For practicality’s sake, of course.
She might have reached out to touch Prussia’s cheek, on pretense of brushing away a stray strand of hair. But as she extended her fingers, she then yelped as a cold hand reached up her tank.
Prussia leered up her. “Enjoying the view, kaninchen?”
“It’s not as though you can look away,” England blustered. “When you’re just sitting exposing yourself like that-”
“Because my tits are awesome. Admit it.”
“Awesomely modest,” England muttered.
“Awesome,” growled the other woman. Warm fingers danced along England’s bare back, scratching down the spine and across her sides.
“You can’t be serious,” sputtered the blonde. “You really can’t-”
Then Prussia, never one for words when push came to shove, kissed her. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss, with only a hint of teeth. When they parted, England was annoyed to feel her cheeks flushing and didn’t fight when Prussia pulled her close, arms tight around her waist.
The paler woman grinned, legs catching one of England’s between them. “You know what the word ‘can’t’ means to me?” she grated, the smile only partially smoothing the edges of her voice.
“It’s a bloody invitation,” England growled.
Prussia laughed throatily, a surprisingly rich, not entirely unpleasant sound. Her fingers went along just the right spots that made England arch her back completely involuntarily. The clever, thin fingers (shorter than England’s, even skinnier than England’s, but hellishly strong for all their apparent fragility) sent a trail of warmth all down the spine and small of the back, as warmth also pooled in her abdomen. And somehow, exhaustion became the least of her concerns, not when there was a vague and pressing need nagging at her with growing and strident tones (with a timbre of voice that was all too like a certain obnoxious white blonde German’s…).
Somehow the entire time the roll of bandage hadn’t left England’s hands. Prussia plucked it out with all the deftness of a pickpocket. And before England could really react-
“You bitch!”
Prussia had to get closer to have full mobility of her arms, which meant her face was right between England’s breasts. She laughed again, but it was the shriller, grating giggle of a complete ass pleased with her own cleverness. Her fingers finished wrapping England’s wrists with the thin, faintly sticky gauze.
“Oh come on, kaninchen, you’re too uptight,” laughed Prussia. “It’s not as though you have to do much work this time either.” She pulled England onto her lap and kissed her again. The second kiss was all teeth on both their parts. Blood wasn’t quite drawn but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Prussia grabbed England’s arse, digging her fingernails into it and her upper thigh.
They both withdrew, panting. England glared; Prussia smirked crookedly. But she didn’t hesitate for long because her mouth then latched onto England’s ear. She tugged on the lobe with her teeth before trailing open mouthed kisses and bites all down the curve of a suddenly sensitive and prickling neck. England’s fingers curled against each other as she fought not to moan.
Then there was the quiet sound of something metallic sliding against another metallic thing, like scissors being quickly opened. Prussia pressed the unfolded blade of a switchknife just barely against England’s collarbone. It slowly trailed down, slicing open the ribbed fabric of her tank and the front of her bra.
“Bitch,” swore England, unable to pull away or protest much past that.
That only earned her a slow smile. Prussia closed the blade and put it aside before pushing aside the cut cups of England’s bra. She shamelessly groped the now exposed breasts, pinching the pale pink nipples she found. No gentleness in those movements, no artfulness, but they weren’t clumsy. Prussia’s very capable fingers knew England would have none of that nonsense and didn’t pretend at softness and worship.
When lips and teeth wrapped around one stiff nipple, England let out a breathy sigh. A tongue trailed in little circles, flicking the nub occasionally. Prussia’s hands ran along her sides, trailing the gentle curve of waist and hips. Fingertips played on the waistband of England’s pink knickers before one hand went right between her legs; the graze of fingernails through the cotton made England shiver.
For once Prussia chose to be gentle, where it didn’t help. This was at odds with her mouth, which bit and kissed and licked England’s breasts with all the usual rough enthusiasm. But her fingers between England’s legs only rubbed, teasing and taunting. It was too gentle, too soft, and England found herself rubbing herself on those fingers with growing desperation.
“Want me, kaninchen?” growled Prussia, pulling her mouth away in a feral smile.
Two fingers found England’s clit and rubbed at it before very slowly circling around it. Through her knickers, it was only tortuously too little.
“You’re ready to fuck yourself on my fingers, aren’t you?” continued Prussia. “I won’t have to even move them. I can just watch you go up and down as you try to get off. Right, my horny little bunny?”
England gritted her teeth because her hips had continued to move, yes, practically fucking against Prussia’s hand. “I could almost say the same about your libido,” she managed to snap. She paused with a great effort before leaning over to whisper hoarsely into Prussia’s ear, “Because you’re going to shove me on the floor, on my knees, and bury my face between your legs anyways.”
England almost screamed when two fingers slipped past her panties and thrust into her. They twisted and then curled, slowly. England panted as they settled. Prussia almost affectionately kissed along her neck; her chuckle tickled against damp skin.
“Go on then,” Prussia hissed, uncurling her fingers but otherwise not moving them.
England shifted her hips reluctantly but when a third finger joined the other two, stretching her now, she rocked back and forth on the other woman’s hand with increasing desperation. Her back arched and she opened her eyes to watch Prussia watching her with every sign of evil amusement mingled with arousal. The heavy-lidded wine violet eyes watched her hungrily, at her breasts bouncing with each desperate thrust onto those clever fingers, her wet swollen lips parted in a barely audible moan, at the bite marks now livid against her throat.
She was getting so close, especially with Prussia’s thumb grazing her clit idly. England ground down, trying to get more pressure right there. But then Prussia removed her fingers in one smooth movement.
England groaned at the sudden loss before cursing quite vehemently with her next breath. Prussia cut her off by pressing sticky fingers against her mouth, into her mouth. England tasted her own arousal, sharp and not necessarily unpleasant, and cleaned off Prussia’s fingers while glaring.
“Get on the floor,” said Prussia, pulling her fingers free. Her voice shook just a little.
England shifted on her knees, wincing a little (she was going to be stiff tomorrow, she knew it), and obeyed, settling on her knees. She watched as Prussia got up and pulled down the soft blue trousers and her knickers in one smooth movement, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. Then Prussia lay down, head between England’s legs. She pulled the now rather damp pink knickers as far down as they would go and then undid the bandages tying England’s wrists together.
England didn’t have to be ordered on what to do next. Not when a bite to her inner thigh made her lurch forwards, and she caught herself on her forearms just in time. She kissed Prussia’s pale thighs, wincing when she was bitten again. Not a playful nibble but enough to leave marks. Hands parting the other woman’s legs, she leaned forwards and settled in a way as to not leave a crick in her neck.
Prussia was wet, almost as wet as England was. Hardly surprising; just watching her sometimes partner, sometimes lover, lose composure and dignity alike was enough to nearly get her off, sadist that she was. England trailed her nails down the thin thighs, as her tongue ran in one long stroke against wet folds. Prussia shuddered gratifyingly as England’s tongue made another sweep in the opposite direction.
Sharp fingernails dug into England’s legs and warm breath tickled all along the skin there. England’s mouth found Prussia’s clit. She flicked it with her tongue and was rewarded with a sharp gasp muffled by a mouthful of her thigh. Thus spurred, she continued, tongue tracing tight circles and alternating with little flicks. Eventually, her fingers slipped into Prussia, twisting and curling, fucking the other woman slowly.
England wanted to rub her thighs together, anything to get off, anything to finish. Teeth and nails were all and well but not enough, not when they were confined to thighs, just as infuriating as the gentle strokes from earlier. Frustrated, she caught Prussia’s clit between teeth and lips and sucked.
Prussia thrashed, hips arching upward. Her own tongue now traced along England’s clit but didn’t just settle there. She licked along the inner folds in long sweeps of her tongue. England moaned as that tongue wriggled into her and continued to curl her fingers in Prussia, echoing those movements. At almost any other time, England would have made a quip about Prussia’s mouth and better uses for it but for the moment, she was distracted with better things than snark.
They came almost at the same time, both of them gasping or hissing through their teeth. England rolled off Prussia but they remained in a tangle of sweaty limbs.
“We need to bring the strap-on next time,” said Prussia, her hand trailing down one of England’s legs.
“No thank you.”
“Why not?”
“Because with our damned luck we’ll get caught with it.”
“Don’t be such a pussy, kaninchen.”
“I’m biologically female, you nitwit. So are you.”
Prussia snorted and slapped England’s arse by way of reply. They got up eventually to only tangle together again in the small bed. And for a few hours at least, England dozed peacefully with the gentle sounds of Prussia’s breathing and heartbeat matching hers.
ooc:
-Basically this started with the picture but then kind of mixed with my initial impression of Hetalia, back before I joined the fandom. When I saw cosplay pictures pop up online, I thought that Hetalia was a series about secret military operatives given country codenames (It perhaps did not help that the first cosplayers I saw were Belarus (with knife) and America). ^^; Yes, my thought processes are not… typical.
-kaninchen: “bunny,” in this universe, Prussia likes to call people by amusing and very childish German nicknames. This tends to get a rise out of England, particularly because Prussia found out that she wore bunny patterned knickers while they were training together and has never let her forget it.
-Prussia… is not a good person to share a bed with. She sprawls. She hogs blankets. And she drools.
-Here’s to you, katamanda . The plot bunny wouldn’t leave my brain. >_> But I think it’s breeding… /goes all gory like the creepy rabbit girl in Petshop of Horrors