Topic: Russia/Lithuania, Russia forcing Liet to top him. Because anon has a kink for dominant ukes - and for big-boned ukes. ¦
Answer #1 - "Tears of sorrow":
Toris knocked on the door, staring at the ground and waiting to be bade into the room. This was normal routine by now, and he knew what to expect.
“Come in!” The voice behind the door sounded giggly and giddy, and Ivan smiled widely when Toris entered.
He was already nude, unlike Lithuania, and was taking a healthy sip from a bottle of vodka.
“You called?”
A nod, and a cheerful giggle, and then the Russian pulled Liet to his chest. “I missed you.” He said.
Toris grunted, and allowed himself to be crushed against that bear chest. He'd given up resistance ages ago.
“Did you miss me?”
He was silent, until he felt a heavy hand around his throat, and then he coughed, “Yes.... yes I did, Ivan.”
He grinned happily, and then slipped his hands down over the Lithuanian's clothed body, and smiled when he saw Toris' eyes closed as he endured.
“Strip.” he ordered him.
He sighed and stood up, and then started to undo his clothes quickly, but a large pale hand stopped him.
“Not like that, I mean STRIP.” He wanted to be teased...
Ivan found his own hands slipping between his to rub his already semi erect cock as Toris's hands fell to his belt.
He pulled the leather off of his waist, and for a brief moment he long to turn that strip of cruel leather into a weapon and give this psycho path a taste of his own damned medicine...
and yet he didn't. Like a trained dog, he just tossed it aside to undo his pants. He blushed when his wrist brushed something kind of hard, and he realized that the sight of the Russian pleasing himself was making his body betray him, as it did so often around Ivan...
The larger man gasped, fully hard now, smiling in delight when Toris's pants slipped slowly to reveal a similar sight. Now that the boy was naked, he motioned for him to come here.
“Kiss me, Liet!” He said.
Toris grabbed him by both cheeks and kissed him forcefully, slipping his tongue into it. As an outlet for his anger-right.
The man underneath him shuddered with delight, and ran his hands up Liet's heavily scared and beaten back, eliciting both a small gasp and wince of pain from the smaller boy.
Ivan kissed him back heavily, and then broke away, and said, “My neck....” and he shivered again as the Lithuanian complied, pausing to suck on his skin here and there. At the Russian's order, he moved his kisses down to his chest, and then his stomach... his eyes were closed now as he tried to not to think about that stunningly pale cock so close underneath him, begging for his touch...
Ivan hissed in pleasure, and moaned, panting a little, and then said, “Liet... Liet fuck me...” he reach up and grabbed the boys shoulders as he begged,d “Fuck me please.”
He gasped in surprise, and pulled away from him, how could be do that? But his hands were caught by two stronger once, covered in snow kissed skin. Roughly, against his will, he was pulled down between Ivan's spread legs, and then those snow cold hands were on his ass and guiding him in-
Oh god.... it was so tight, and so warm. Toris threw his head back and let himself moan openly, unable to hold it back, and then all too soon, Ivan ad pushed his hips away and it was gone, and then it was back.
He moaned and got a grip on himself, and tried to pull away from him, but his hands were caught, and then his cheek was slapped. “Fuck me.” the demand reached his ears.
He blinked, reeling, from the pain of the slap, and then started to move his hips. He pressed into the Russian, and then pulled back, almost all the way out, before ramming in again. He was moaning, and panting, and slowly started to speed up.
The sight of Ivan arching his back and moaning underneath him was exhilarating. He called Toris's name and bit his lower lip, releasing his hand to grab onto the sheets.
And Toris sped up again, ramming his cock deep inside of that large, hot body as hard, deep and fast as it would go. He loved the rush of power he felt, and moaned loudly, panting as he set his newly freed hands on Ivan's hips to steady himself as he thrust.
He came hard, harder then he'd come in a long time, and screamed Feliks' name, but Ivan hardly seemed to notice.
The Russian bucked, and soiled their stomachs with his hot, sticky seed, panting, exhausted, he clutched Toris to his chest.
“I love you.”
Toris started crying, though for which of them, he wasn't sure.
Answer #2 - "Wash it away":
The sea of white could be seen from where he sat, swallowing the landscape and turning indistinct ground and sky. It was a cold winter but being at home made it different. Warmer, even. Probably it was just wishful thinking, but it sure felt like the spring was not too far away, and this --unlike the usual thoughts he had-- was a comforting thought. Being able to spend a regular afternoon of a regular day in peace: That was what freedom tasted like for him, and even though it seemed to be too simple a feeling to bring him happiness, it made him smile. Once the fireplace was lit, he neglected the blankets he had been wrapped in and came into the kitchen. The food was ready.
He hadn't even brought the spoon of soup to his mouth when he heard the knocking at the door, faint against in contrast with the sound of the snow hitting the windows. It was him. It had to be, and at this thought his blood seemed to freeze. He gulped, walking slowly towards the sound. There was more knocking, and he was certain that if he hadn't open it the door at that moment, the other would have kicked it and made his entrance anyway.
The blizzard coming through the door made him shiver, but Ivan seemed to be unfazed.
"Good to see you too," he said in answer to Toris' perplexed look, making his way to the living room uninvited. He reeked of vodka, which in itself wasn't all that surprising, but it still called Toris' attention.
"May I offer you some coffee?" he asked as he closed the door, feeling slightly nervous at turning his back on Ivan.
"Oh, but I'm not drunk!" Ivan waved one arm in the air, contradicting the tell-tale flush on his cheeks, then letting himself fall on the couch as ungracefully as a sack of potatoes. "You see, I poured a whole bottle on myself so that it concealed the smell of blood. Although it was truly a waste and I regret it, because I can still feel it. Don't you? I mean, it is here with me, isn't it? The blood." He took his overcoat and let Toris see the splotches of brown and dark red all over his uniform. A few were fresh, of a red as vivid as the one on his gloves. Toris felt sick.
"It... is."
"Good, good! I was starting to fear it was all on my imagination," he pointed to his head. "Can you make it go away?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"All of it. Can you wash it away?"
Toris stared at him. He could tell it was no joke, but that still didn't make it easier to proceed. "A... a warm bath is a good idea. It will make you feel better." When he was about to leave, Ivan grabbed his arm.
"Don't think of leaving me here."
"Ah! Sure. Come with me if that's what you want," he said, rubbing the spot where Ivan's fingers had been.
Ivan tailed him as they went upstairs and into the bathroom, only to end up sitting on the tiled floor while Toris filled the bathtub with hot water. It was unsettling to have him there under his roof as if such visits were usual or if their relationship was normal to begin with, but even so there was something that compelled Toris to treat him as if he was still under his rule. It wasn't fear of the other man, or at least not only that, but rather something he didn't have a name for. Perhaps it was just that he was used to behave like this in front of Ivan. Perhaps...
"It's tiring to be the target constantly," Ivan said pulling a small music box from his pocket. "I thought, I'm sure Lithuania will understand what I'm talking about, being my own personal target. It's not something I can avoid, but you do understand, don't you? That you really belong with me. That's what I thought, so I came."
The water was close to overflowing when the first notes started to play.
"But then again, I'm not sure why I'm here because although I don't want to think about it, you must hate me, don't you? Everybody does. Why wouldn't you? If I look into your eyes I'll get my answer, so I'll just close my eyes."
"...The bath is ready. Russia-san," Toris called softly, ignoring all previously said.
"Ah." He left the music box in the floor and started to pull his clothes, tossing them in total disarray.
"If you excuse me now," Toris walked to the door.
"Stay. Can't you? I won't make a sound so it'd be as if I wasn't here," Ivan smiled. And against all sane thoughts on his mind, Toris stayed.
He turned his back but could still see Ivan on the mirror of the wall, the layers of clothing being discarded until only his scarf was left falling freely over his back. And when this one was gone too, Toris could see him fully as a human. It's not that he had thought of Ivan as an automaton --he was often too cruel not to be of flesh and blood-- but it was awkward to think of him as man all of a sudden.
With the water no longer running, the music was clear, its rhythm soothing as a lullaby. Toris picked the box, wounding it up as soon as it stopped playing.
"Can you wash it away? Lithuania..."
When Toris rose his head he saw Ivan scrubbing his arms to the point where his skin was red with scratches. "It's clean," he said in a whisper, trying to reassure Ivan.
"It's not. It never is. But if I manage to get it clean, then you and the others won't hate me, right?" There was something in Ivan's voice that for a moment Toris couldn't bring to mind all the things Ivan had done. He felt there were sins that couldn't be erased, but at the same time he felt unable to put all the blame on the other man. Even when the times had been hard for him, Toris had never felt loneliness in all its extent. Only for this, he was able to forgive Ivan.
"It's clean, clean enough!" he hurried to say, grabbing Ivan's arms. "Will you come with me now?"
Ivan nodded and did as told, dripping wet as he exited the tub. He dried himself in silence, taking the bathrobe Toris had brought him when he was done.
"F- follow me," Toris said and lead Ivan to one of the unoccupied rooms. He wasn't too sure about what he was doing because perhaps the best option would have been to lead him to the door. 'But no one should be out there in such a weather,' Toris said to himself.
The first thing Ivan did after they entered the room was to hide under the blankets. He looked awfully like a child, even though he was too big for being one.
"Is there something else you need?"
Ivan locked his arms around Toris' waist.
"Ah..." Toris stiffened but didn't fight the embrace. There were few times when he was able to look at Ivan in the eyes and not feel like he was being scrutinized.
"Tell me you don't hate me," he said, his hair a mess and still wet from the bath.
"I..." Toris tousled the blonde hair. He had the feeling that 'I do hate you' would have been the perfect thing to say if he had wanted to hurt the other. But the one that was before him wasn't quite the Ivan he would have liked to get revenge on, and so what he ended up saying was quite different. "I like you," he whispered.
Ivan looked up, his eyes reddened because of the liquor's effects or because of tears, he couldn't tell.
"I like you," Toris repeated, only because he thought Ivan hadn't heard those words in his life enough times.
The kiss was something Toris hadn't expected himself to happen, all the more because it had been him the one taking the initiative. He didn't know very well why he was getting into such a situation, only that he wanted to. Perhaps it was because he thought that if Ivan had been loved he wouldn't have become what he was now. Or maybe it was because he thought that if Ivan hadn't done the things he did, Toris would have come to love him, innocent, strong and untamed.
He could hardly feel the taste of vodka as he kissed Ivan, softly and then more aggressively as Ivan's pulled him against his chest. Ivan pulled his shirt, stopping at the feel of the scars on Toris' back.
"This..." His eyes hardened.
"It's nothing. It's all right," Toris said, dropping kisses all over Ivan's skin. He was treading a dangerous path and he knew it, especially with Ivan being always so close to slip from sanity to madness in a second. But perhaps Toris wasn't sane himself to even be doing this. Without having a second thought he pushed gently Ivan's legs apart, getting as much as a nod from the other man. It was distracting, not to say strange, to have Ivan under him and moaning softly, cheeks glowing red.
'In the morning. The morning...' Toris felt anxious at the very thought, but as he pulled himself from Ivan's arms and watched him fall asleep gradually with a peaceful expression on his face, all Toris could do was to wish in vain the night was everlasting.
Topic: Austria/Hungary, first time, with Austria trying his best to be as delicate and gentle as possible, but still being somewhat clumsy/inexperienced.
Answer #1:
The silk sheets felt cold upon contact, making her get goosebumps all over her skin. As it happened often with even the tiniest details, he noticed her reaction, as well as the way she shivered when he placed his fingers on her shoulders.
"Are my hands too cold?" he asked softly.
She shook her head. "It's the winter. It's cold outside and the windows are not quite closed and that's why..." Her voice, usually so cheerful, was now merely a whisper.
Come to think of it, winter wasn't precisely her favorite season, but there were enough things she liked about those three months that she felt she didn't miss Spring all that terribly. Among her favorite things there were fireplaces and long chats around them, the scent of a homemade soup served hot, and snowflakes, lots of them. But she digressed.
"Should I close the windows shut?"
"Ah, no, it's just fine like that!" she hurried to say. "I like the sound of, er, the windows rattling." It was not quite what she meant to say. Rather, she would have wanted to say that a snowstorm could come right through that window and she wouldn't mind, but for some reason she thought it wouldn't make her look demure. And so the wind that came between the windows' frames kept making the candlelight waver.
He cupped her chin in his hand, then caressed her face with care, admiring every bit of her as if she was a work of art. Under his touch she felt imperfect and abashed, and yet, at the same time, she felt happy. Happy that it was him and no one else who was touching her. Afraid she would drive him away if she did something --anything-- wrong, she didn't move. At all. But what she wanted most was to reach for him too.
'Well, we are married, aren't we?' With this thought and all the courage she could muster she started to unbotton his shirt. She hadn't made her way to the second button when she felt him froze. 'Oh, damn,' she thought, and immediately afterwards she reprimanded herself for cursing.
"Perhaps I should blow the candles," he said.
Oh, please don't. "As you wish," she replied as calmly as she could feign. He pressed her knuckles to his lips and rose to do as he planned. Only that after blowing some candles he ended up tripping and knocking down the chandelier as he fell, almost leaving them in full darkness if it wasn't for the light of a single candle.
"A- Austria-san, are you all right?"
"Yes," he answered, arranging his glasses. "This will do, I think."
Despite the dim light she could still see him clear enough. "Oh, yes~" She absolutely didn't want to miss a detail.
"Did you say something?"
"Ah, I meant, yes, it's more than enough. It's even more romantic like this."
"Is it?" he said with a small smile on his lips. If that smile was meant to kill her slowly, it was working. He then returned by her side and put her hand near his heart. She came closer, pressing her cheek against his chest. His heartbeats were probably as erratic as hers. It made her smile.
"May I?" she said brushing her fingertips against the metalic frame of his glasses.
"I can't see all that well without them." Still, he allowed her to take them away from him and put them on the night table.
At the sight of him she sighed, wishing she could tell him how handsome he was without actually saying it, in the same way the many details he had towards her made her feel beautiful.
His fingers slipped under the lace of her nightgown and reached for the ribbon that held it tight around her shoulders. After a few moments of struggling with it he seemed to grow impatient, bringing his eyebrows together. She suppressed a giggle.
"I must have tied it up all wrong," she said, placing her hand on top of his. The knot was tight but her hands, smaller and more slender than his, were able to undo it. He pulled the ribbon slowly until the fabric was clinging from her forearms.
"Ah," she said. Her long hair partially covered her torso but knowing that couldn't prevent her cheeks from turning bright red. In answer, he took her hands and placed them right on his collarbone. She nodded and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, pulling it so that his milk-white skin was left exposed. Always, ever since she met him, she had found herself looking up to him, certain of his strength even when some thought him meek just because he was courteous. And now, as she traced his shoulders she was never more aware that next to him it was where she felt safe.
They took turns at getting rid of their remaining clothing, leaving each other bare for only the two of them to see in the dimness of their room. He bent over to brush his lips over her belly, to kiss her once, twice and more as he made his way from her waist to her lips with feather-like kisses. She hadn't quite imagined how this moment would be --she had even thought it would never happen-- but the reverence he treated her with made her eyes water without really knowing why.
With her fingers intertwining with his hair, she thought of that spring. Their marriage had been, more than anything, a pact between their people and she too, more than anything, had complied thinking in the greater good. Still, arranged or not, he had always treated her with kindness since the beginning, going as far as to make their wedding memorable for her sake. There had been flowers everywhere, from her room to the chapel. And outside, Danube graced them with its ever so blue waters. The chaste kiss on her cheek at the end of the ceremony had signaled what their married life would be. He did never, in all the time they were together, imposed himself on her and for this she was grateful, until she realized her feelings had changed, and that respect had become love.
He embraced the whole of her as he came inside her, and the tears that she hadn't shed before rolled free down her cheeks.
"Does it-- Am I being too harsh?" he asked, his breath warm on her skin.
"Never," she managed to say. You're never harsh to me.
Over dinner she had told him shyly it was a little late for a wedding night. It was to be meant to be a jest, a way to tease him even, so she hadn't expected him to add in a whisper that it wasn't all that late.
He kissed her neck gently, breathing against her hair. "Spring," he said quietly. "You smell of spring. You always have." She tried to wipe her tears but he caught her hand in his and wiped them himself. "It's not because of something I said or did, is it?"
"No. I'm just being silly, that's all," she excused herself, and then kissed the beauty spot under his lips. She had always wanted to do that, to do things no one else would be allowed to do if she wasn't--
"Technically," she said with a speck of guilt, "I'm not really your wife now, am I?"
"Technically," he answered, brushing some strands of hair away from her face. "But my vows remain true."
"Till death do us part?" she asked with a smile, calling to mind their abiding existence.
"Till death do us part," her husband replied.
Answer #2:
Roderich was pacing in his study wearing his second favourite suit. It was odd. He had begun the morning wearing his first favourite suit, but due to circumstances, he had been forced to sacrifice it to the cleaners where he fervently hoped they could steam out lobster bisque. It was all his wife’s fault.
He had been enjoying his lunch, reading over his daily papers when his new wife flounced in like a little whirlwind of sunshine and flowers. Her skirts twirled around her as she bounced into a chair beside him. She always chose a chair beside him, instead of the customary seat across the table. He never said anything to her about it, though. He rather enjoyed her unorthodox habits, if nothing else that he rather enjoyed being close to her
He couldn’t help but notice she smelled like lavender today. Each day it seemed to be a different flower: roses, lilies, violets, but today seemed to be lavender.
She planted her elbows on the table and rested her chin on top of them, her light brown hair falling around her shoulders like a veil, a flower pinned behind her ear like usual.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted her formally with a nod. “Would you like to join me?”
She nodded, and picked an apple from a bowl of fruit on the table, dicing it neatly. Her unexpected skill with knives always put Roderich off guard, no matter how many times he saw it.
They ate in a comfortable silence together, broken only by the clink of Roderich’s spoon against his bowl, the rustle of his papers, and the crunch of Elizabeth’s apple.
Roderich smiled inwardly. This was one of his favourite aspects of their marriage, arranged or no. It might have originally done for power and military reasons, but he had really lucked out. Elizabeth was an excellent wife. Good-mannered, intelligent, pleasing to look at, refined…
“I want to have sex,” Elizabeth announced.
“Enough,” Roderich wheezed, holding up his hand, the majority of the bisque having cleared his airway. He took the red spotted handkerchief from his lap and attempted to blot out the worst of the stains from his shirt, simply needing a distraction. His brain was still reeling quite a bit from shock.
“We’ve been married for two months” –Elizabeth resumed eating her apple, apparently not nearly as affected by her words as he was– “but we have yet to make it, well, official.”
“But we are a marriage of convenience,” Roderich reminded her, adjusting his glasses. At her suddenly saddened look, he realised how that must have sounded. “Not that I’m not flattered by your proposal,” he continued quickly, “but I just want to make sure you aren’t doing this out of a sense of nuptial duty.”
“It’s not that,” she said, looking down at her hands, a blush brightening her features for the first time in the whole scandalous conversation. “It’s just… I’d prefer my first time to be with someone I like.”
...
Kaoru-no-kimi