Rarepair fills
Poland/Prussia
Somehow, this was all America's fault. America's fault and that stupid hilarious TV show of his. It had started with Poland going on and on about the stupid thing, and when Prussia had told him to shut his stupid trap about a dumb ass reality show that no one watched because it was all about crap that anyone could pull off anyway Poland scoffed and had said "Shyeah, no way. I bet you would like totally get auf'd in the first challenge." And that was how Prussia found himself staring at a mass of fabric sitting on Germany's floor, a sea of pins sitting on his coffee table, and a giant misshapen lump of satin and stripes and something currently occupying the better part of Poland's rear end.
"Like, you had totally better not make my butt look big," Poland chided, standing atop the coffee table which had been usurped to serve as both working table and model stand for their endeavors. "But make it look totally hot," he added as an afterthought. "My ass is like totally my best feature."
Definitely America's fault.
"Your ass is huge, Polen," Prussia grumbled around a mouthful of pins, stabbing fruitlessly at the lump of misshapen fabric. It was supposed to be a skirt. It was supposed to be the most awesome skirt in existence but somehow the awesome skirt in Prussia's mind didn't quite translate into an awesome skirt on Poland's ass.
"Omigod you did not just say that!" Poland scowled, turning to glare down at him. "And like, what are you even doing anyway? Aren't you like supposed to make me look fabulous?"
"Shut up! I'm still figuring out this stupid shit!" Prussia growled, tugging at the fabric which rewarded him with a resounding rip. He glared. "How the hell does this crap even work?"
"That's like, the whole point of it, duh." The way that Poland kept on moving as he talked wasn't helping the tear anyway. "You've got to like make it work and all!"
"Screw you, Polen," Prussia grumbled and just tugged more at the ripping fabric. Ripped edges were edgy and edgy was seriously awesome, right?
"If I were wearing the right skirt you would totally want to," the other country singsonged with a smug grin.
Prussia snorted, tossing the discarded scrap of fabric aside. "There's no skirt in the world that would make me want to do you!"
"No way!" Poland said smoothing his hands over his hips and down across the lumps of fabric covering his butt. "I've totally got like this sexy little back number that like totally hugs my hips and it makes my legs look super amazing."
"Yeah? And what does it do for your dick?"
"Dude, is that like all you can think about?" Poland asked, tossing his hair. "Geeze, did you like turn fag in the last century or something?"
"You're the one talking about wearing skirts!" Prussia protested, poking at Poland's ass.
"Because I look sooo good in them, duh!" Poland replied, wagging his hips as he shifted his weight easily from one leg to the other.
"Chicks do it better," Prussia snorted in reply, shoving another pin or three into the mess of fabric.
"No way," Poland scoffed, giving Prussia a disgusted glare, "I'm totally hotter than your stupid chicks."
"I meant girls, Polen!" Prussia said with a roll of his eyes.
Poland smirked. "Shyeah, like better than them too!"
"Prove it," Prussia retorted, sticking his tongue out at the other country.
"Well first you've got to like, get this tranny mess off of me, duh," Poland scowled, sticking his tongue out in reply.
"It's not a mess, it's awesome in progress!"
"Um, yeah, like whatever, just get rid of it," Poland said, jutting his chin up with toss of his wrist. "You're like, so auf'd. And I'm totally not gonna kiss you either."
"You don't get to talk like Heidi!" Prussia growled, trying to figure out just how to get the waste dump he'd made off of Poland.
Poland paused, snickered, then stared down at Prussia. "Omigod what, I thought you like didn't watch the show!"
"Dude, Heidi's hot shit!" Prussia said with a wide grin. "She's one of West's! Like I don't keep track of his sex bombs."
"So does that like make you his minister of sex defenses or something?" Poland asked, twirling a strand of hair around his finger.
"Hah! I could wage a sexy war on you any day," Prussia leered up at him.
Poland snickered, giving Prussia a look of utter disbelief. "Oh gross is that like your idea of a pick up line?"
Prussia paused, probably a moment too long. "Maybe."
The snickers had evolved into all out laughter, Poland clutching at his stomach with his free arm. "Omigod, Prusy, when was the last time you even got laid?"
"What the hell, Polen?!" Prussia shouted, really grateful that Poland's eyes were closed so he didn't see the heat that was rising to his cheeks.
"You totally haven't!" Poland howled, slapping at his thigh with one hand, "Like not in the last decade even!"
"Shut up!" Prussia glared up at the other country, snorting. "I'm not like Italien's asshole brother! I can score chicks!"
"Hah! I totally knew it!" Poland had nearly doubled over, shaking his hand to untangle it from his hair so he could wipe the tears from his eyes. "You're like so pathetic that you've only got your little birds."
"Girls, damnit!"
Poland's laughter stopped abruptly as he sucked in a deep breath, pushing himself back upright and smirking down at Prussia with a lingering snicker. "Like, if you were screwing girls like why didn't you just say it?"
"I did just say it!" Prussia protested.
"Uh huh, sure." Poland rolled his eyes, suddenly much more interested in his nails than in anything that Prussia had to say. "So like when are you going to take this disaster area off of my awesome butt? I like, don't want you contaminating Śląsk with your mess or anything."
"Schlesien? What the hell Polen, that shit was Österreich's!"
"Yeah like before he totally ass-grabbed it from me. It's not my fault that everyone wants a piece of my ass," Poland said with a casual shrug, before going back to checking his nails.
"Who gives a damn. I can do what I want with Schlesien, it was mine anyway!" Prussia growled in reply, tugging pins out from the mass of fabric.
"Yeah, like after you stole it from me! I totally had dibs on it first!" Poland pouted, arms crossed over his chest.
"Hey, all's fair in love and war or however that shit goes." Hell, it wasn't like Prussia ever read England's shitty poetry anyway. "I won it, so it's mine!"
"Except for how it's totally mine again," Poland said, smirking down at Prussia. "And you like don't even have the army to take it back."
"Hah! Oh yeah?" Prussia grinned up at him, fingers tightening in the fabric bunched around Poland's hips for a moment before he tugged it away, pins and all, diving forward and grabbing two handfulls of Poland's butt.
"Omigod! You perv! Stop grabbing my ass!" Poland squeaked, prying at Prussia's hands in a pretty damn good effort to pull them off.
"It's my ass now!" Prussia growled, digging his fingers in.
"No way!" Poland scowled, grabbing at Prussia's wrist and tugging. "You like wouldn't even know what to do with it!"
"I bet I can think of a couple of things," Prussia replied, digging his fingers in and kneading at Poland's ass. The asshole's stupid nails hurt like a bitch but hell if Prussia was letting go now.
"Uuhm," Poland squirmed under Prussia's hands, snickering under his breath. "Only like totally no, I am like so much better than you when it comes to asses."
"That's cuz you're such a girl, huh?" Prussia snorted, pushing his thumbs in and sliding them up along the skin inside Poland's crack.
"Okay like seriously just cut it out already, Prusy!" Poland nearly squealed, finally tugging himself away from Prussia's hands and off the table. Not wasting a moment he turned and scowled at the other country, fixing him with an angry glare. "Like, just because I said I'd let you make my ass look fabulous is totally not an excuse to go grabbing it all over the place!"
"Um, Polen . . . " Prussia said, his face suddenly flushed.
"And like, it's not like you could do it anyway. You are like so auf'd and you're like auf'd from Śląsk like for forever!"
"Polen . . . " There was a drip of blood hanging perilously at the edge of Prussia's nostril now.
"Though like you could like do anything about it anyway because you like totally aren't even a country anymore so like it totally sucks to be you."
"Nice erection, Polen," Prussia half-muttered, half-snickered from behind the hand that was wiping the blood from his nose.
Poland stared. More like glared, really, before he lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Okaaay you can like, stop looking at my dick anytime now." He paused, crossing his arms over his chest with a triumphant smirk. "Unless you like wanna suck it."
"I don't want to suck your dick!" Prussia shouted in protest, quickly wiping his hand off on his pants.
"Omigod, you totally do!" Poland crowed, jutting his hips forward for emphasis. "Like, first you were all over my ass and now it's like my dick so you like totally want to do me!"
"No way!"
"Except like sooo yes way," Poland snickered, uncrossing his arms with a wave of his wrist. "I bet that you're like that total pervert Austria and you like totally were getting off when me and Litwa beat you up, weren't you?"
"Yes! No! I mean-Shut up, Polen!" Prussia scowled, his face flushed bright red.
"Like I totally like don't care or whatever," Poland replied with shrug of his shoulders, stepping around the coffee table over to Prussia, "Cuz like pshaw, pretty much everyone in Europe wants a piece of my ass."
"I already had it once!" Prussia grumbled under his breath.
"Yeah but you seriously didn't know what to do with it or whatever. If you're going to like pretend to take it back at least I'm going to show you how to treat it right." There was a confident tilt to the curve of Poland's lips as he placed his hands on Prussia's shoulders, easily turning him around and shoving him down onto Germany's couch in one smooth gesture. Before Prussia's face even hit the cushions, Poland was straddling the back of his thighs, reaching around to undo the button on Prussia's jeans and tug his pants down by the belt loops all in one gesture.
"Hey! Get the fuck off!" Prussia shouted, pushing himself up with one arm. Fuck, he'd forgotten what a little bastard Poland turned into when he got his mind set on something.
"Noo way!" Poland retorted, shoving at Prussia's back with the heel of one hand as he sat up to tug the other country's pants down. "This is like a lesson, and I'm totally going to school you on how to handle an ass as fabulous as mine."
"I don't need to be schooled by the likes of you," Prussia growled, faceplanted into Germany's leather couch cushions.
"You do when I'm like an expert when it comes to asses," Poland said easily, and Prussia could hear the bitchy little grin in his voice. He was going to wipe that jerk's stupid smirk right off his face once he got out from under his stupid trap.
Poland, however, had another plan in mind as he continued to speak, grabbing two handfuls of Prussia's ass as he did. "So you like, just go for the booty grab and all and that's like omigod so totally gross!" He wiggled his fingers against the fabric of Prussia's boxers, digging his fingers in for emphasis.
Prussia squeaked.
Poland didn't seem to notice, letting go and moving on with his lecture. "What you've got to do is like cup it and everything. I mean a firm ass is totally fabulous, it's like a really good peach or something. You've got to like be gentle with it because you totally don't want it bursting all over the place." He demonstrated, sliding his hand down over the fabric of Prussia's boxers before sliding under the curve of his ass and squeezing lightly.
"Polen, you are not comparing my awesome ass to peaches!" Prussia sputtered, finally finding his voice again.
"Well your ass isn't really like peaches," Poland replied matter-of-factly, letting go of Prussia's butt and sitting up. "Unless they're like super ripe peaches that are like kind of flabby and mushy but that's totally gross. They like, get all over your clothes and shit."
"Not rotten peaches either!" Prussia shouted.
"Seriously can you stop like critiquing my metaphors already? I'm like totally doing you a favor here. Geeze, you are like so ungrateful." Poland scowled, putting his hands on his hips with a quiet little 'humph.' He paused for a moment, before putting one hand to his chin, "Anyway, like . . . where was I?"
“Peaches," Prussia muttered after a second. It wasn't really his fault that the way that Poland had been touching his ass felt really good.
"Okay, yeah, so like peaches!" Poland said with a firm nod of his head, putting both hands firmly back into Prussia's butt. "Like the other really great part of doing that is that you can totally use it as like a infiltration or like a reconnaissance trick or like some of that stuff, because once you've got your hand down here-" he demonstrated, slipping his palms back down to cup the bottom of Prussia's ass. "You can totally just keep on going and like pull one of these." Slipping his hands down further he pushed at the hem of Prussia's boxers, running his hands up along the back of Prussia's thighs, cupping his ass again, skin on skin. "Except it's like so totally easier when you're wearing a skirt, you know? Which is why this is what you're supposed to do with a fabulous ass like mine."
"Yeah, sure," Prussia said, becoming more grateful by the moment that Poland couldn't see his face and the brilliant blush that was spreading across it. "So that's it?"
"Um, no way," Poland snickered-his voice way closer than it was a moment ago. Prussia jerked up slightly, turning to glare at the other country only to find that Poland was nearly face to face with him, leaning forward from his perch on Prussia's thighs. His smirk just got wider as he leaned in closer, pulling his hands apart and parting Prussia's ass. "Once you've got it here you can totally move in for more damage." One hand slipped inward, Poland's thumb reaching out to massage a firm circle around the pucker of Prussia's asshole.
Prussia couldn't stop the groan that it pulled from his throat, jerking his head back to glare intently at the couch cushions. "Okay, I get it!" he spat out, reaching back to smack one-handedly at Poland's arms. "Get off my ass now!"
Poland was all out laughing now, leaning back out of Prussia's range as he tugged his boxers up and to the side with his other hand as he fingered Prussia's asshole, thumb running hard over the hole. "Omigosh, this is totally turning you on. It's like, okay to like it you know. You can totally admit that I'm your meister or whatever."
"You are not the meister of anything," Prussia growled, trying to sit up again but finding himself still thwarted by the pressure of Poland sitting on his legs.
"I totally am the meister of something, I'm the meister of doing your ass," Poland sing-songed to himself, tapping his lips with his fingers before he pushed them in, licking all along them like they were some kind of lollipop. Prussia could tell from the slick smack of his lips against skin, squirming half with protest half with anticipation before the sounds stopped, only a moment before Poland pushed one of the now-slicked fingers up Prussia's ass.
"Damnit-Poland!" Prussia half-shouted half-moaned, which in hindsight probably really didn't help his case. "This isn't supposed to be a lecture in doing me up the ass!"
"Except how that's totally what I'm doing," Poland replied, working the finger in and out of him with steadily increasing speed "C'mon you like totally like it don't you? You totally want more, right?"
"Yes-I mean-fuck, at least do it harder!" It wasn't as though Poland had been wrong, earlier. It had been a while since he'd been laid, and the way that Poland was working his ass felt really good; he couldn't even really help riding his hips back against the other country's finger.
"Well I'll do it but like only if you say please," Poland taunted, circling at Prussia's entrance before pushing his finger in, agonizingly slow.
"Please, all right, please?!" Prussia growled, his back arching against the sensation, hands gripping for purchase at the edge of the couch's cushions.
Poland made a irritable sigh, pulling his fingers back out. "Geeze, like you don't have to yell it," he muttered, quickly pushing two fingers back into Prussia's ass.
"Shut up and just keep going." As much as Prussia didn't want to admit it, this was the best he'd ever got from someone's hand up his ass. Not that he ever let anyone near there, but the way that Poland's fingers scissored and stretched at him, rubbing quick, firm circles against his prostate before pulling out and then shoving back in against the same spot. This was good, this was fucking amazing. He didn't even really care that it was Poland anymore because it was good, it was spiking up his back and straight to his groin and damnit he was getting so close and-
"So this is totally like fashion you know," Poland said abruptly, snickering to himself as his fingers fucked Prussia's asshole.
"Yeah," Prussia muttered between a low groan and a deep, panting breath, "How the hell is that so?"
"It's totally like one minute I'm in," he continued, shoving his hand in deep, fingers crooked against Prussia's prostate, "and the next I'm out!" Just as quickly, he pulled them back, drawing the first two in a firm line along the tight skin inside Prussia before the caught at the edge of his asshole.
"Polen," Prussia groaned, fingers clenching at the edge of the couch cushions. "You-suck" he spat with a final moan before shoving his hips back against Poland's fingers as he came.
"If you like want me to suck you off you should really wait a little while or something you know," Poland replied with an incredulous look as he removed his fingers from Prussia's ass, wiping them clean on the fabric of his boxers.
Prussia's only reply was the smack of head against the now-ruined leather of Germany's couch.
-----
Austria/Japan
This-Austria thinks to himself as he runs his tongue firmly up the underside of Japan's erection, fingers tight against the pale skin of Japan's thighs, brows furrowed as he watches for a reaction, any sort of indication that the other nation is deriving some sort of pleasure from the act-this is not how an act of passion is to be composed. He knows his own melody quite well. Hungary has helped him build it over the years. The first movement should have been allegro appassionato, a moment of heady desire drawing them together, lips meeting with certain force as clothes scattered to set the scene for the movements to come. As it was, the pace that had been set could have been called adagio at best. Austria allows this: it was, after all, not a work of only his making. Allowances must be made to properly balance the melodies they both considered familiar.
The second, the movement he now hopefully nears the end of, was largo sostenuto. Seduction, after all, takes time. Foreplay is a necessarily element, Austria feels, to build to the proper mood. After all, one cannot produce the energy necessary for the third movement, giocoso, nor the fourth-the euphoric and unbridled energy, the rush, the thrill of vivace-simply out of thin air.
Yet Japan does not seem willing to have any part in the accelerando that Austria hopes to build. A tempo in this sort of symphony, after all, cannot be set by a single player. It should come in unison from all participants at once. As such, Austria has tried to elicit a response from Japan, through the numerous means and measures at his disposal. But every movement, every shift of Japan's legs, tilt of his lips, arch of his back must be urged with Austria's hands, his tongue, his insistence. He had managed thus far to restrain from using words-Austria has always felt that they disrupted the atmosphere of the bedroom when they were not impulsive, drawn from within-but it is difficult to restrain the urge much longer. Is it really possible for another nation to be so ignorant of the pace that he is trying to encourage? Austria does not think himself oblique in these matters, and he certainly has more experience than certain other nations, and he knows that Japan is not the sort to be unaware of the atmosphere of the situation around him. Yet still, as he pushes his head down quickly, lips tight about Japan's erection, pulling back with rigor and haste. If this is the case then how can he do nothing more than lie there? How can he not move with the heat of the moment and contribute? How can he not-
"Can you please be more considerate of what is at hand here?!" Austria all but shouts, biting his tongue seconds later as Japan shifts to sit up, the most movement that Austria has seen out of him in the past five minutes, and inclines his head curiously toward the other nation.
"Is something the matter, Austria?" he asks, voice far too calm given his current position.
"Ah-forgive me the disturbance," Austria quickly apologizes, smoothing a hand through his hair before turning back to regard Japan with a stern but querying gaze. "However, the fact remains true that this exercise is not one to be taken unilaterally. I am honored that you have gone so far as to invite me to hold this position within your esteem but I will not accept a gesture if it is merely being offered at face value."
"If you do not desire to forge these relations, I understand, but to call such a thing into question right now..." Japan's voice trails off as he casts a quick but curious glance to their current state of undress and arousal.
"I do not feel as though my desire is in question here," Austria protests, checking his tone a moment later as he lightly clears his throat, cheeks flushed. "But exactly how long do you intend to remain silent in this endeavor?"
"For as long as Austria would like me to remain so," Japan replies simply.
"Then please cease this inaction at once," Austria says with a slight tilt of his chin. "A dialogue is not a single voice speaking. Nor is a duet a single voice singing. Your participation in these activities is necessary and-" Austria pauses, only for a moment, leaning forward to press the palm of his hand against Japan's erection, "It is most certainly desired."
A moment passes between them, Japan's eyes locked with Austria's before he inclines his head as well, a small nod. "I understand, Austria," he replies, a soft, breathy moan escaping his lips with the words.
"Then you will be certain to allow yourself to express your desires, won't you?" Austria asks, fingers curling about Japan's erection as a slight smile curls across his lips.
"Ahh-" Japan moans again, his voice pitching higher, "Yes."
"I am glad to hear that," Austria replies, bending over Japan and kissing at the corner of his mouth before slowly working a trail of kisses down the curve of his jaw, the line of his neck. Japan's nearly falsetto interjections seem to build in slow crescendo. Austria closes his eyes and cannot help but smile at the melody that they write, accentuated by the short staccato smack of his lips against the other country's skin as he works his way further down, across the smooth expanse of his chest and lower. His hand's grip firms on Japan's erection, stroking slowly up his length then down again. Austria is all too happy to work into the rhythm that Japan's moans and the shift of his arms across the bedsheets have set for their piece. In his mind, he has already entertained thoughts of what the next movement might bring, how the movement of Japan's body, the sound of his voice might change as he leans in and sweeps his tongue across the head of Japan's erection when Japan cuts through his composition.
"No, don't," Japan pleads urgently, pressing his hands against the bed at either side of his head. "Please not there, it's embarrassing."
Almost instantly, Austria pulls away. "My apologies," he mutters, just loud enough for Japan to hear, as he turns his face to kiss at the skin of the other nation's thigh, "I did not think that you would dislike such activities."
"Oh-" Japan sits up just as quickly, no longer looking nearly so distressed. "It's not that I dislike them."
"You asked me to stop, did you not?" Austria sits up with Japan, smoothing his hands slowly up from Japan's knees to his hips.
"Ah-yes, but that does not mean that you should stop."
"I am afraid I do not quite understand."
"I suppose . . . no means yes is the best way to say it," Japan replies after a moment, making a fist of one hand and tapping it lightly against the palm of his other hand.
"No means yes . . . " Austria repeats, arching one eyebrow at him in question.
"Yes," Japan says with a slight nod. "I do not wish to imply that you are not in control of the situation, as you are my guest and I am receiving you. Therefore, it is best if I act appropriately submissive."
"So you pretend to resist my advances?"
"Austria feels most dominant when he is in a position to conquer, correct?"
"The bedroom is not a place for conquest, Japan," Austria snaps, quickly. He clears his throat just as quickly, speaking in haste to correct himself. "That is to say, our activities here are those of mutual consent, not of conquest. Would it not be best for you to behave in such a manner?"
"Even when consenting it is best for the dominant partner to remain dominant, isn't it?" Japan asks in reply, brows knit slightly together.
"You're ignoring the matter at hand." Austria's protest is cut off by his own irritable sigh before he gives pause. The moment is entirely lost. It is as though the composer and the first violin have taken up quarrel in the beginning of a prelude. If there is any hope of resolution to remain, it must be found in simply starting the whole affair over again. But if that is to be the case, he will not abide by Japan continuing to behave as he has so far. Ground rules must be laid.
"This is not a matter of conflict," Austria clarifies, sitting up from where he remained between Japan's legs. "This is a matter of consummation of favorable diplomatic ties."
"Of course," Japan agrees with a slight nod, bringing his legs together.
"Therefore there will not be any conflict." His eyes narrow as he fixes Japan with a stern gaze at these words. "Not even of the sort that is only for show."
"But then how will it be clear who is in control of the situation?" The frown that pulls at Japan's features is enough of a telling expression of discomfort given the other nation's usual appearance but Austria does not relent.
"I know very well when I am in control, Japan," Austria replies, jutting his chin upward slightly. "I would appreciate it if you would at least give me that confidence."
"So even though Austria is the dominant partner you would like me to still act as though I am-"
"There will be no acting," Austria says swiftly, cutting off Japan's words. He is aware of the implications and the forwardness of the gesture, but he feels that given the situation such things can be justified. "If you are feeling pleasure, I wish for you to express it. If you are not feeling pleasure, I wish for you to express it. It is as simple as that."
"Ah-" Japan's eyes are no longer meeting Austria's stern gaze, the frown has deepened. Austria knows he has upset Japan, but if their relations are to be forged in this manner then Austria will not waver in his insistence that they be forged correctly. "To do that sort of thing . . . " Japan continues, his fingers lightly tugging at the bed sheets below them, "Wouldn't it be embarrassing?"
"Does the thought of feeling pleasure in the act of intercourse embarrass you, Japan?"
The question is simple, direct, but Japan's answer is anything but.
"That sort of thing depends on the situation, doesn't it?" Japan asks with a cautious tilt of his head.
"I am referring to the situation that we are in at this very moment!" With a sigh, Austria places his fingers firmly to his temple. This is certainly proving more difficult than initially suspected.
"I am not at all embarrassed to receive Austria's company right now."
"Then all that I am asking in return is that you give proper action to such things." Austria's expression relents, softening slightly as he leans in again, his hand touching at Japan's knee and sliding down the soft skin of his thigh. "I would appreciate it if when I take actions like this," he closes his fingers around Japan's now-limp member, fondling it gently, "that the reaction you give to express your pleasure is your own, and not a performance that you put on for me."
"Ah-but still-" Japan protests quietly, fingers twisting further in the bedsheets, "I'm not experienced with that sort of thing."
"Then we can consider this a learning experience." A slight smirk tugs at the corners of Austria's lips, his hand moving in largo, beginning to reset the rhythm of the second movement of their composition once again. "A moment of cultural exchange, if you will."
"If-it would please Austria," Japan says with measured breaths. Austria can already hear the melody of moans hiding beneath the corners of his words.
"I assure you, Japan." He moves closer, dropping his voice as he does, his lips ghosting over the other nation's, "It would please me very much."
----
By far, it is not the most accomplished nor the most harmonic union that Austria has made in his time. Given their beginnings, it was not at all expected that the remainder of the evening would proceed smoothly. There were stops and starts, moments when Austria would have to repeat a phrase, a line to find himself back in the proper melody. But still, it was, he feels, quite a rousing success. If for nothing else than for the moment when, pushing his erection slowly into the slicked warmth of Japan's opening, he felt the depth and tenor of Japan's moans, deep and rich, as they built within his body before escaping through kiss-flushed lips against a sweat-stained pillow that displayed its own artistry, pale white contrasting with the bright flush of Japan's cheeks, the dark black strokes of his hair tousled and tossed across its canvas.
Japan, judging by the expression he wore the next morning as he saw Austria off at the airport, appeared to have enjoyed the experience as well. At least as much as Japan let on to enjoying anything. Austria was not without his doubts, wondering for a moment when he arrived home whether his actions had been entirely proper, but a letter from Japan received the next week asking if Austria would be willing to allow him the opportunity to visit entirely cleared that matter in Austria's mind.
With a smile on his face, Austria neatly folded the letter and reached for his phone to dial Hungary. There were preparations to be made, after all. If Japan appreciated a show of submission, then Austria was certain that when it came time to receive his guest he would be able to willingly oblige.
Somehow, this was all America's fault. America's fault and that stupid hilarious TV show of his. It had started with Poland going on and on about the stupid thing, and when Prussia had told him to shut his stupid trap about a dumb ass reality show that no one watched because it was all about crap that anyone could pull off anyway Poland scoffed and had said "Shyeah, no way. I bet you would like totally get auf'd in the first challenge." And that was how Prussia found himself staring at a mass of fabric sitting on Germany's floor, a sea of pins sitting on his coffee table, and a giant misshapen lump of satin and stripes and something currently occupying the better part of Poland's rear end.
"Like, you had totally better not make my butt look big," Poland chided, standing atop the coffee table which had been usurped to serve as both working table and model stand for their endeavors. "But make it look totally hot," he added as an afterthought. "My ass is like totally my best feature."
Definitely America's fault.
"Your ass is huge, Polen," Prussia grumbled around a mouthful of pins, stabbing fruitlessly at the lump of misshapen fabric. It was supposed to be a skirt. It was supposed to be the most awesome skirt in existence but somehow the awesome skirt in Prussia's mind didn't quite translate into an awesome skirt on Poland's ass.
"Omigod you did not just say that!" Poland scowled, turning to glare down at him. "And like, what are you even doing anyway? Aren't you like supposed to make me look fabulous?"
"Shut up! I'm still figuring out this stupid shit!" Prussia growled, tugging at the fabric which rewarded him with a resounding rip. He glared. "How the hell does this crap even work?"
"That's like, the whole point of it, duh." The way that Poland kept on moving as he talked wasn't helping the tear anyway. "You've got to like make it work and all!"
"Screw you, Polen," Prussia grumbled and just tugged more at the ripping fabric. Ripped edges were edgy and edgy was seriously awesome, right?
"If I were wearing the right skirt you would totally want to," the other country singsonged with a smug grin.
Prussia snorted, tossing the discarded scrap of fabric aside. "There's no skirt in the world that would make me want to do you!"
"No way!" Poland said smoothing his hands over his hips and down across the lumps of fabric covering his butt. "I've totally got like this sexy little back number that like totally hugs my hips and it makes my legs look super amazing."
"Yeah? And what does it do for your dick?"
"Dude, is that like all you can think about?" Poland asked, tossing his hair. "Geeze, did you like turn fag in the last century or something?"
"You're the one talking about wearing skirts!" Prussia protested, poking at Poland's ass.
"Because I look sooo good in them, duh!" Poland replied, wagging his hips as he shifted his weight easily from one leg to the other.
"Chicks do it better," Prussia snorted in reply, shoving another pin or three into the mess of fabric.
"No way," Poland scoffed, giving Prussia a disgusted glare, "I'm totally hotter than your stupid chicks."
"I meant girls, Polen!" Prussia said with a roll of his eyes.
Poland smirked. "Shyeah, like better than them too!"
"Prove it," Prussia retorted, sticking his tongue out at the other country.
"Well first you've got to like, get this tranny mess off of me, duh," Poland scowled, sticking his tongue out in reply.
"It's not a mess, it's awesome in progress!"
"Um, yeah, like whatever, just get rid of it," Poland said, jutting his chin up with toss of his wrist. "You're like, so auf'd. And I'm totally not gonna kiss you either."
"You don't get to talk like Heidi!" Prussia growled, trying to figure out just how to get the waste dump he'd made off of Poland.
Poland paused, snickered, then stared down at Prussia. "Omigod what, I thought you like didn't watch the show!"
"Dude, Heidi's hot shit!" Prussia said with a wide grin. "She's one of West's! Like I don't keep track of his sex bombs."
"So does that like make you his minister of sex defenses or something?" Poland asked, twirling a strand of hair around his finger.
"Hah! I could wage a sexy war on you any day," Prussia leered up at him.
Poland snickered, giving Prussia a look of utter disbelief. "Oh gross is that like your idea of a pick up line?"
Prussia paused, probably a moment too long. "Maybe."
The snickers had evolved into all out laughter, Poland clutching at his stomach with his free arm. "Omigod, Prusy, when was the last time you even got laid?"
"What the hell, Polen?!" Prussia shouted, really grateful that Poland's eyes were closed so he didn't see the heat that was rising to his cheeks.
"You totally haven't!" Poland howled, slapping at his thigh with one hand, "Like not in the last decade even!"
"Shut up!" Prussia glared up at the other country, snorting. "I'm not like Italien's asshole brother! I can score chicks!"
"Hah! I totally knew it!" Poland had nearly doubled over, shaking his hand to untangle it from his hair so he could wipe the tears from his eyes. "You're like so pathetic that you've only got your little birds."
"Girls, damnit!"
Poland's laughter stopped abruptly as he sucked in a deep breath, pushing himself back upright and smirking down at Prussia with a lingering snicker. "Like, if you were screwing girls like why didn't you just say it?"
"I did just say it!" Prussia protested.
"Uh huh, sure." Poland rolled his eyes, suddenly much more interested in his nails than in anything that Prussia had to say. "So like when are you going to take this disaster area off of my awesome butt? I like, don't want you contaminating Śląsk with your mess or anything."
"Schlesien? What the hell Polen, that shit was Österreich's!"
"Yeah like before he totally ass-grabbed it from me. It's not my fault that everyone wants a piece of my ass," Poland said with a casual shrug, before going back to checking his nails.
"Who gives a damn. I can do what I want with Schlesien, it was mine anyway!" Prussia growled in reply, tugging pins out from the mass of fabric.
"Yeah, like after you stole it from me! I totally had dibs on it first!" Poland pouted, arms crossed over his chest.
"Hey, all's fair in love and war or however that shit goes." Hell, it wasn't like Prussia ever read England's shitty poetry anyway. "I won it, so it's mine!"
"Except for how it's totally mine again," Poland said, smirking down at Prussia. "And you like don't even have the army to take it back."
"Hah! Oh yeah?" Prussia grinned up at him, fingers tightening in the fabric bunched around Poland's hips for a moment before he tugged it away, pins and all, diving forward and grabbing two handfulls of Poland's butt.
"Omigod! You perv! Stop grabbing my ass!" Poland squeaked, prying at Prussia's hands in a pretty damn good effort to pull them off.
"It's my ass now!" Prussia growled, digging his fingers in.
"No way!" Poland scowled, grabbing at Prussia's wrist and tugging. "You like wouldn't even know what to do with it!"
"I bet I can think of a couple of things," Prussia replied, digging his fingers in and kneading at Poland's ass. The asshole's stupid nails hurt like a bitch but hell if Prussia was letting go now.
"Uuhm," Poland squirmed under Prussia's hands, snickering under his breath. "Only like totally no, I am like so much better than you when it comes to asses."
"That's cuz you're such a girl, huh?" Prussia snorted, pushing his thumbs in and sliding them up along the skin inside Poland's crack.
"Okay like seriously just cut it out already, Prusy!" Poland nearly squealed, finally tugging himself away from Prussia's hands and off the table. Not wasting a moment he turned and scowled at the other country, fixing him with an angry glare. "Like, just because I said I'd let you make my ass look fabulous is totally not an excuse to go grabbing it all over the place!"
"Um, Polen . . . " Prussia said, his face suddenly flushed.
"And like, it's not like you could do it anyway. You are like so auf'd and you're like auf'd from Śląsk like for forever!"
"Polen . . . " There was a drip of blood hanging perilously at the edge of Prussia's nostril now.
"Though like you could like do anything about it anyway because you like totally aren't even a country anymore so like it totally sucks to be you."
"Nice erection, Polen," Prussia half-muttered, half-snickered from behind the hand that was wiping the blood from his nose.
Poland stared. More like glared, really, before he lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Okaaay you can like, stop looking at my dick anytime now." He paused, crossing his arms over his chest with a triumphant smirk. "Unless you like wanna suck it."
"I don't want to suck your dick!" Prussia shouted in protest, quickly wiping his hand off on his pants.
"Omigod, you totally do!" Poland crowed, jutting his hips forward for emphasis. "Like, first you were all over my ass and now it's like my dick so you like totally want to do me!"
"No way!"
"Except like sooo yes way," Poland snickered, uncrossing his arms with a wave of his wrist. "I bet that you're like that total pervert Austria and you like totally were getting off when me and Litwa beat you up, weren't you?"
"Yes! No! I mean-Shut up, Polen!" Prussia scowled, his face flushed bright red.
"Like I totally like don't care or whatever," Poland replied with shrug of his shoulders, stepping around the coffee table over to Prussia, "Cuz like pshaw, pretty much everyone in Europe wants a piece of my ass."
"I already had it once!" Prussia grumbled under his breath.
"Yeah but you seriously didn't know what to do with it or whatever. If you're going to like pretend to take it back at least I'm going to show you how to treat it right." There was a confident tilt to the curve of Poland's lips as he placed his hands on Prussia's shoulders, easily turning him around and shoving him down onto Germany's couch in one smooth gesture. Before Prussia's face even hit the cushions, Poland was straddling the back of his thighs, reaching around to undo the button on Prussia's jeans and tug his pants down by the belt loops all in one gesture.
"Hey! Get the fuck off!" Prussia shouted, pushing himself up with one arm. Fuck, he'd forgotten what a little bastard Poland turned into when he got his mind set on something.
"Noo way!" Poland retorted, shoving at Prussia's back with the heel of one hand as he sat up to tug the other country's pants down. "This is like a lesson, and I'm totally going to school you on how to handle an ass as fabulous as mine."
"I don't need to be schooled by the likes of you," Prussia growled, faceplanted into Germany's leather couch cushions.
"You do when I'm like an expert when it comes to asses," Poland said easily, and Prussia could hear the bitchy little grin in his voice. He was going to wipe that jerk's stupid smirk right off his face once he got out from under his stupid trap.
Poland, however, had another plan in mind as he continued to speak, grabbing two handfuls of Prussia's ass as he did. "So you like, just go for the booty grab and all and that's like omigod so totally gross!" He wiggled his fingers against the fabric of Prussia's boxers, digging his fingers in for emphasis.
Prussia squeaked.
Poland didn't seem to notice, letting go and moving on with his lecture. "What you've got to do is like cup it and everything. I mean a firm ass is totally fabulous, it's like a really good peach or something. You've got to like be gentle with it because you totally don't want it bursting all over the place." He demonstrated, sliding his hand down over the fabric of Prussia's boxers before sliding under the curve of his ass and squeezing lightly.
"Polen, you are not comparing my awesome ass to peaches!" Prussia sputtered, finally finding his voice again.
"Well your ass isn't really like peaches," Poland replied matter-of-factly, letting go of Prussia's butt and sitting up. "Unless they're like super ripe peaches that are like kind of flabby and mushy but that's totally gross. They like, get all over your clothes and shit."
"Not rotten peaches either!" Prussia shouted.
"Seriously can you stop like critiquing my metaphors already? I'm like totally doing you a favor here. Geeze, you are like so ungrateful." Poland scowled, putting his hands on his hips with a quiet little 'humph.' He paused for a moment, before putting one hand to his chin, "Anyway, like . . . where was I?"
“Peaches," Prussia muttered after a second. It wasn't really his fault that the way that Poland had been touching his ass felt really good.
"Okay, yeah, so like peaches!" Poland said with a firm nod of his head, putting both hands firmly back into Prussia's butt. "Like the other really great part of doing that is that you can totally use it as like a infiltration or like a reconnaissance trick or like some of that stuff, because once you've got your hand down here-" he demonstrated, slipping his palms back down to cup the bottom of Prussia's ass. "You can totally just keep on going and like pull one of these." Slipping his hands down further he pushed at the hem of Prussia's boxers, running his hands up along the back of Prussia's thighs, cupping his ass again, skin on skin. "Except it's like so totally easier when you're wearing a skirt, you know? Which is why this is what you're supposed to do with a fabulous ass like mine."
"Yeah, sure," Prussia said, becoming more grateful by the moment that Poland couldn't see his face and the brilliant blush that was spreading across it. "So that's it?"
"Um, no way," Poland snickered-his voice way closer than it was a moment ago. Prussia jerked up slightly, turning to glare at the other country only to find that Poland was nearly face to face with him, leaning forward from his perch on Prussia's thighs. His smirk just got wider as he leaned in closer, pulling his hands apart and parting Prussia's ass. "Once you've got it here you can totally move in for more damage." One hand slipped inward, Poland's thumb reaching out to massage a firm circle around the pucker of Prussia's asshole.
Prussia couldn't stop the groan that it pulled from his throat, jerking his head back to glare intently at the couch cushions. "Okay, I get it!" he spat out, reaching back to smack one-handedly at Poland's arms. "Get off my ass now!"
Poland was all out laughing now, leaning back out of Prussia's range as he tugged his boxers up and to the side with his other hand as he fingered Prussia's asshole, thumb running hard over the hole. "Omigosh, this is totally turning you on. It's like, okay to like it you know. You can totally admit that I'm your meister or whatever."
"You are not the meister of anything," Prussia growled, trying to sit up again but finding himself still thwarted by the pressure of Poland sitting on his legs.
"I totally am the meister of something, I'm the meister of doing your ass," Poland sing-songed to himself, tapping his lips with his fingers before he pushed them in, licking all along them like they were some kind of lollipop. Prussia could tell from the slick smack of his lips against skin, squirming half with protest half with anticipation before the sounds stopped, only a moment before Poland pushed one of the now-slicked fingers up Prussia's ass.
"Damnit-Poland!" Prussia half-shouted half-moaned, which in hindsight probably really didn't help his case. "This isn't supposed to be a lecture in doing me up the ass!"
"Except how that's totally what I'm doing," Poland replied, working the finger in and out of him with steadily increasing speed "C'mon you like totally like it don't you? You totally want more, right?"
"Yes-I mean-fuck, at least do it harder!" It wasn't as though Poland had been wrong, earlier. It had been a while since he'd been laid, and the way that Poland was working his ass felt really good; he couldn't even really help riding his hips back against the other country's finger.
"Well I'll do it but like only if you say please," Poland taunted, circling at Prussia's entrance before pushing his finger in, agonizingly slow.
"Please, all right, please?!" Prussia growled, his back arching against the sensation, hands gripping for purchase at the edge of the couch's cushions.
Poland made a irritable sigh, pulling his fingers back out. "Geeze, like you don't have to yell it," he muttered, quickly pushing two fingers back into Prussia's ass.
"Shut up and just keep going." As much as Prussia didn't want to admit it, this was the best he'd ever got from someone's hand up his ass. Not that he ever let anyone near there, but the way that Poland's fingers scissored and stretched at him, rubbing quick, firm circles against his prostate before pulling out and then shoving back in against the same spot. This was good, this was fucking amazing. He didn't even really care that it was Poland anymore because it was good, it was spiking up his back and straight to his groin and damnit he was getting so close and-
"So this is totally like fashion you know," Poland said abruptly, snickering to himself as his fingers fucked Prussia's asshole.
"Yeah," Prussia muttered between a low groan and a deep, panting breath, "How the hell is that so?"
"It's totally like one minute I'm in," he continued, shoving his hand in deep, fingers crooked against Prussia's prostate, "and the next I'm out!" Just as quickly, he pulled them back, drawing the first two in a firm line along the tight skin inside Prussia before the caught at the edge of his asshole.
"Polen," Prussia groaned, fingers clenching at the edge of the couch cushions. "You-suck" he spat with a final moan before shoving his hips back against Poland's fingers as he came.
"If you like want me to suck you off you should really wait a little while or something you know," Poland replied with an incredulous look as he removed his fingers from Prussia's ass, wiping them clean on the fabric of his boxers.
Prussia's only reply was the smack of head against the now-ruined leather of Germany's couch.
-----
Austria/Japan
This-Austria thinks to himself as he runs his tongue firmly up the underside of Japan's erection, fingers tight against the pale skin of Japan's thighs, brows furrowed as he watches for a reaction, any sort of indication that the other nation is deriving some sort of pleasure from the act-this is not how an act of passion is to be composed. He knows his own melody quite well. Hungary has helped him build it over the years. The first movement should have been allegro appassionato, a moment of heady desire drawing them together, lips meeting with certain force as clothes scattered to set the scene for the movements to come. As it was, the pace that had been set could have been called adagio at best. Austria allows this: it was, after all, not a work of only his making. Allowances must be made to properly balance the melodies they both considered familiar.
The second, the movement he now hopefully nears the end of, was largo sostenuto. Seduction, after all, takes time. Foreplay is a necessarily element, Austria feels, to build to the proper mood. After all, one cannot produce the energy necessary for the third movement, giocoso, nor the fourth-the euphoric and unbridled energy, the rush, the thrill of vivace-simply out of thin air.
Yet Japan does not seem willing to have any part in the accelerando that Austria hopes to build. A tempo in this sort of symphony, after all, cannot be set by a single player. It should come in unison from all participants at once. As such, Austria has tried to elicit a response from Japan, through the numerous means and measures at his disposal. But every movement, every shift of Japan's legs, tilt of his lips, arch of his back must be urged with Austria's hands, his tongue, his insistence. He had managed thus far to restrain from using words-Austria has always felt that they disrupted the atmosphere of the bedroom when they were not impulsive, drawn from within-but it is difficult to restrain the urge much longer. Is it really possible for another nation to be so ignorant of the pace that he is trying to encourage? Austria does not think himself oblique in these matters, and he certainly has more experience than certain other nations, and he knows that Japan is not the sort to be unaware of the atmosphere of the situation around him. Yet still, as he pushes his head down quickly, lips tight about Japan's erection, pulling back with rigor and haste. If this is the case then how can he do nothing more than lie there? How can he not move with the heat of the moment and contribute? How can he not-
"Can you please be more considerate of what is at hand here?!" Austria all but shouts, biting his tongue seconds later as Japan shifts to sit up, the most movement that Austria has seen out of him in the past five minutes, and inclines his head curiously toward the other nation.
"Is something the matter, Austria?" he asks, voice far too calm given his current position.
"Ah-forgive me the disturbance," Austria quickly apologizes, smoothing a hand through his hair before turning back to regard Japan with a stern but querying gaze. "However, the fact remains true that this exercise is not one to be taken unilaterally. I am honored that you have gone so far as to invite me to hold this position within your esteem but I will not accept a gesture if it is merely being offered at face value."
"If you do not desire to forge these relations, I understand, but to call such a thing into question right now..." Japan's voice trails off as he casts a quick but curious glance to their current state of undress and arousal.
"I do not feel as though my desire is in question here," Austria protests, checking his tone a moment later as he lightly clears his throat, cheeks flushed. "But exactly how long do you intend to remain silent in this endeavor?"
"For as long as Austria would like me to remain so," Japan replies simply.
"Then please cease this inaction at once," Austria says with a slight tilt of his chin. "A dialogue is not a single voice speaking. Nor is a duet a single voice singing. Your participation in these activities is necessary and-" Austria pauses, only for a moment, leaning forward to press the palm of his hand against Japan's erection, "It is most certainly desired."
A moment passes between them, Japan's eyes locked with Austria's before he inclines his head as well, a small nod. "I understand, Austria," he replies, a soft, breathy moan escaping his lips with the words.
"Then you will be certain to allow yourself to express your desires, won't you?" Austria asks, fingers curling about Japan's erection as a slight smile curls across his lips.
"Ahh-" Japan moans again, his voice pitching higher, "Yes."
"I am glad to hear that," Austria replies, bending over Japan and kissing at the corner of his mouth before slowly working a trail of kisses down the curve of his jaw, the line of his neck. Japan's nearly falsetto interjections seem to build in slow crescendo. Austria closes his eyes and cannot help but smile at the melody that they write, accentuated by the short staccato smack of his lips against the other country's skin as he works his way further down, across the smooth expanse of his chest and lower. His hand's grip firms on Japan's erection, stroking slowly up his length then down again. Austria is all too happy to work into the rhythm that Japan's moans and the shift of his arms across the bedsheets have set for their piece. In his mind, he has already entertained thoughts of what the next movement might bring, how the movement of Japan's body, the sound of his voice might change as he leans in and sweeps his tongue across the head of Japan's erection when Japan cuts through his composition.
"No, don't," Japan pleads urgently, pressing his hands against the bed at either side of his head. "Please not there, it's embarrassing."
Almost instantly, Austria pulls away. "My apologies," he mutters, just loud enough for Japan to hear, as he turns his face to kiss at the skin of the other nation's thigh, "I did not think that you would dislike such activities."
"Oh-" Japan sits up just as quickly, no longer looking nearly so distressed. "It's not that I dislike them."
"You asked me to stop, did you not?" Austria sits up with Japan, smoothing his hands slowly up from Japan's knees to his hips.
"Ah-yes, but that does not mean that you should stop."
"I am afraid I do not quite understand."
"I suppose . . . no means yes is the best way to say it," Japan replies after a moment, making a fist of one hand and tapping it lightly against the palm of his other hand.
"No means yes . . . " Austria repeats, arching one eyebrow at him in question.
"Yes," Japan says with a slight nod. "I do not wish to imply that you are not in control of the situation, as you are my guest and I am receiving you. Therefore, it is best if I act appropriately submissive."
"So you pretend to resist my advances?"
"Austria feels most dominant when he is in a position to conquer, correct?"
"The bedroom is not a place for conquest, Japan," Austria snaps, quickly. He clears his throat just as quickly, speaking in haste to correct himself. "That is to say, our activities here are those of mutual consent, not of conquest. Would it not be best for you to behave in such a manner?"
"Even when consenting it is best for the dominant partner to remain dominant, isn't it?" Japan asks in reply, brows knit slightly together.
"You're ignoring the matter at hand." Austria's protest is cut off by his own irritable sigh before he gives pause. The moment is entirely lost. It is as though the composer and the first violin have taken up quarrel in the beginning of a prelude. If there is any hope of resolution to remain, it must be found in simply starting the whole affair over again. But if that is to be the case, he will not abide by Japan continuing to behave as he has so far. Ground rules must be laid.
"This is not a matter of conflict," Austria clarifies, sitting up from where he remained between Japan's legs. "This is a matter of consummation of favorable diplomatic ties."
"Of course," Japan agrees with a slight nod, bringing his legs together.
"Therefore there will not be any conflict." His eyes narrow as he fixes Japan with a stern gaze at these words. "Not even of the sort that is only for show."
"But then how will it be clear who is in control of the situation?" The frown that pulls at Japan's features is enough of a telling expression of discomfort given the other nation's usual appearance but Austria does not relent.
"I know very well when I am in control, Japan," Austria replies, jutting his chin upward slightly. "I would appreciate it if you would at least give me that confidence."
"So even though Austria is the dominant partner you would like me to still act as though I am-"
"There will be no acting," Austria says swiftly, cutting off Japan's words. He is aware of the implications and the forwardness of the gesture, but he feels that given the situation such things can be justified. "If you are feeling pleasure, I wish for you to express it. If you are not feeling pleasure, I wish for you to express it. It is as simple as that."
"Ah-" Japan's eyes are no longer meeting Austria's stern gaze, the frown has deepened. Austria knows he has upset Japan, but if their relations are to be forged in this manner then Austria will not waver in his insistence that they be forged correctly. "To do that sort of thing . . . " Japan continues, his fingers lightly tugging at the bed sheets below them, "Wouldn't it be embarrassing?"
"Does the thought of feeling pleasure in the act of intercourse embarrass you, Japan?"
The question is simple, direct, but Japan's answer is anything but.
"That sort of thing depends on the situation, doesn't it?" Japan asks with a cautious tilt of his head.
"I am referring to the situation that we are in at this very moment!" With a sigh, Austria places his fingers firmly to his temple. This is certainly proving more difficult than initially suspected.
"I am not at all embarrassed to receive Austria's company right now."
"Then all that I am asking in return is that you give proper action to such things." Austria's expression relents, softening slightly as he leans in again, his hand touching at Japan's knee and sliding down the soft skin of his thigh. "I would appreciate it if when I take actions like this," he closes his fingers around Japan's now-limp member, fondling it gently, "that the reaction you give to express your pleasure is your own, and not a performance that you put on for me."
"Ah-but still-" Japan protests quietly, fingers twisting further in the bedsheets, "I'm not experienced with that sort of thing."
"Then we can consider this a learning experience." A slight smirk tugs at the corners of Austria's lips, his hand moving in largo, beginning to reset the rhythm of the second movement of their composition once again. "A moment of cultural exchange, if you will."
"If-it would please Austria," Japan says with measured breaths. Austria can already hear the melody of moans hiding beneath the corners of his words.
"I assure you, Japan." He moves closer, dropping his voice as he does, his lips ghosting over the other nation's, "It would please me very much."
----
By far, it is not the most accomplished nor the most harmonic union that Austria has made in his time. Given their beginnings, it was not at all expected that the remainder of the evening would proceed smoothly. There were stops and starts, moments when Austria would have to repeat a phrase, a line to find himself back in the proper melody. But still, it was, he feels, quite a rousing success. If for nothing else than for the moment when, pushing his erection slowly into the slicked warmth of Japan's opening, he felt the depth and tenor of Japan's moans, deep and rich, as they built within his body before escaping through kiss-flushed lips against a sweat-stained pillow that displayed its own artistry, pale white contrasting with the bright flush of Japan's cheeks, the dark black strokes of his hair tousled and tossed across its canvas.
Japan, judging by the expression he wore the next morning as he saw Austria off at the airport, appeared to have enjoyed the experience as well. At least as much as Japan let on to enjoying anything. Austria was not without his doubts, wondering for a moment when he arrived home whether his actions had been entirely proper, but a letter from Japan received the next week asking if Austria would be willing to allow him the opportunity to visit entirely cleared that matter in Austria's mind.
With a smile on his face, Austria neatly folded the letter and reached for his phone to dial Hungary. There were preparations to be made, after all. If Japan appreciated a show of submission, then Austria was certain that when it came time to receive his guest he would be able to willingly oblige.