Event: Collars and Leashes | Low Aphro | Intro

[gewehrundblut]

He'd spent the better part of the time since he found himself in this strange place trying to find an exit. However, one can only search so long before they grow tired, and he has become entirely exhausted. There are far too many floors to search through, so he decides that, for the time being, he can find a room and take a short nap before

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Hullo~

[diosorogloria]

The Spanish Empire didn't really know what to think of this new place he found himself in. It was gaudy, lascivious. A venerable bordello of sin. Spain didn't really mind it so much. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, though he would have to admit that so many naked bodies, lusty moans, and lewd intentions under one roof was indeed something else. Then there was that sweet scent in the air that probably did things to his mind and stirred his libido. The Spanish Empire smirked, what an awful place indeed. He had to find a way out.

It was through his wanderings that he found a room with a certainly familiar occupant. That fair hair was unmistakable, combined with skin that was just too pale. He only knew of one Nation to hold such attributes.

"Gilbert?" He called from the door as his eyes betrayed him and idly took in naked skin, lean muscles, and blue collar. Strange.

o/

[gewehrundblut]

He can't say he was entirely impressed with the atmosphere of this place either. On the one hand, it certainly appealed to his baser desires, of which he has a multitude and no qualms about sating under the right conditions. On the other hand, he dislikes being taken anywhere without his knowledge, because rarely does anything good come of such happenings.

Though his initial response to Spain's voice is slightly suspicious, it's Spain. He knows that, of all the Nations, the one least likely to be responsible for something such as this is him. "The one and only~" He stretches languidly, glancing over hopefully to Antonio. "You wouldn't know how to get this verdammte thing off, wouldja?" One hand taps the collar, surrounded as it is by reddened and scratched skin from his own attempts to remove it, proof along with the slightly panicked look to his eyes that he is not nearly so okay with this as he would appear.

[diosorogloria]

Spain could understand the sentiments. He had fresh memories of being taken against his will and he didn't think he would really recover from then soon. Perhaps they would even scar him for life.

He shook his head to stop his eyes from wandering anymore. This was his friend and while he was an Empire so used to taking and taking, things were different here. And he must not let this place get the better of him. He smiled to his friend and entered the room, the heels of his boots not making a sound over the carpeted floor. There was a soft jingle though as he walked. Must be from the little bag of gold he has on his person somewhere.

"I could try." He looked to his friend curiously as he settled his hat down by the side table. "Who gave that to you?"

[gewehrundblut]

"That's the thing; I have no fucking clue," he growls out, irritation with the situation becoming more apparent. Not knowing something is one thing he does not enjoy, especially when it involves such a gross violation of his personal space. "I went to sleep with most of my clothing on, and woke up to find it all over there with just the collar on." He points to where his uniform is, neatly folded and carefully set aside, which should make it all too obvious this was someone else's doing. After all, typically his clothing ends up everywhere when he undresses, as he tends to just leave it wherever it drops when he starts stripping.

"When I find them, though..." A soft snarl rumbles in his throat; whomever is responsible will regret this.

[diosorogloria]

Spain nodded in ascent at this explanation, not questioning it as it was true. Prussia wasn't exactly that concerned where his clothes ended up in when he was tired enough. He flashes a smile at his friend when he snarls, finding the sound familiar and endearing. Then he reached to touch gently against the collar.

It was made of soft, worn leather and it reminded Spain of that time. A collar around his neck, chained against his well, abused and beaten up beyond reckoning. He frowned at the sight of that collar and the memories that it summoned. He resisted the urge to reach up to his own neck where at times he still felt the phantom burn of worn leather against his skin.

"They'll pay." The words were flat, matter-of-fact and Spain reached to carefully loosen the buckle.

[gewehrundblut]

With a quiet sigh, he settles against Spain, smiling contentedly as he feels the other man going to work on the collar. Freedom, beautiful freedom~ Though he can't help but wonder why it's coming undone so easily for Spain when no matter what he tried, it would not budge. "I'll paint the walls with their blood~" His own tone in response is bright and cheerful at the prospect. Oh yes, they'll pay dearly.

He shifts easily, covers slipping down from his waist to reveal that, despite everything, he's still half-hard. While Spain is busy, he's just going to nuzzle his neck, maybe press a kiss here, capture skin between teeth in a light nip over there; just being thankful that Spain both can and is willing to remove the collar. It's a much better way of expressing his gratitude than just saying two pithy little words, after all.

[diosorogloria]

He chuckles softly at Prussia's words. Typical of him to find joy in the pain and misery of others. The collar was loosened soon enough and Spain tossed it away without much care to the floor.

"There you are~"

And a low hum as Prussia kissed, nipped, and nuzzled his way along his neck. Prussia's teeth were a bit sharp, but he doesn't mind overly much. He liked a sliver of pain with his pleasure at times. He smiled and tilted his head to kiss his good friend lightly on the lips, bare fingers gently slipping into fine, silvery hair.

"Free as a bird..."

[gewehrundblut]

"And I'll stay that way, right, si-Spain?" he murmurs against the darker man's lips before trying to press in for a much firmer kiss, having never been fond of light, teasing sorts of touches. There is a slight frown marring his features, because he had, indeed still has, the urge to call Spain 'sir', even though the collar is off. Which doesn't really sit well with him; he rather fiercely values both being independent and dominant.

Right, clearly all this thinking stuff is highly overrated, so instead of worrying about what this weird place has done to him, he's just going to crush his lips against Spain's, because he is horny and it has been a while and he doesn't see anyone here complaining about that much, at least.

[diosorogloria]

"Ye--" Spain's response was cut off at that rougher kiss. Prussia was rough with his kisses and Spain is not surprised. He felt it when the other frowned and was a bit relieved that he wasn't the only one thinking that something was strange here. It was probably the room and that sweet-smelling aroma that was everywhere.

Despite his better judgment, his hands started to move, trailing over bare skin. Prussia was warm from the sheets, his skin rough, but unpleasantly so. He was angles and hardness everywhere and something in Spain spiked at the thought of touching all this bounty. It whispered and called, steadily growing louder...

[gewehrundblut]

There's definitely something not quite right about this place, aside from the saccharine sort of perfume in the air, the collar, the fact that everywhere it seems like people are going at it like rabbits. Still, even having noticed all of this, he's wholly disinclined to pull away from Spain, especially since his hands feel so wonderful; just the right balance of genteel softness and a conqueror's weapon-calloused grip, finding all the right places along his flesh to make him burn inside.

He breaks the kiss, because he needs air, which is slightly regrettable because he was enjoying that; and had been about to launch a thorough invasion and exploration of Antonio's mouth. Still, that can be done once he finishes drawing breath into his lungs, arching almost catlike into the hands trailing across him. "Fuck..."

OTL Typos! Why must you not stop appearing~? Sorry.

[diosorogloria]

His hands continued to touch, trailing over pale skin marked with scars. Prussia wasn't your conventional beauty; his startling features made sure of that and the fact that Prussia would object vehemently to being called "beautiful." But he was, in his battle-hardened, violent way, and the attraction of it was singing to the darker, baser parts of him. To the conqueror who owned most of the known world. To own this beautiful, volatile Nation of war and fire.

He trailed a finger up along Prussia's chest, up his throat, pausing and tilting his chin. Green eyes looked to red and he liked what he saw. He smiled indulgently, an Empire's pleased smile, his voice deeper and velvety, silk over steel,

"Such language..." He scolded him softly, still with an indulgent smile.

It's okay. I am terribly amused by my phone buzzing with all the notifs. XD

[gewehrundblut]

"A-and what of it?" He's breathing heavily from all the touches, nerves aflame with desire; the desire to do whatever it would take to bring more of those strokes, everywhere, to make this Empire claim him. It feels so strange in his head, because part of him wants to rebel against the sensations, but nothing could ever change the fact that, at his core, he was born to serve an Empire, and what is so different about being under a more powerful one? It only would make him more powerful, would it not? "I'll fuckin' say what I want, unless you make me clean it the Hell up." A smirk crosses his face, daring his friend to push further. He won't submit without a fight, no, it's not his way, but would Spain really have him if he didn't make a battle of it?

You are loved XD

[diosorogloria]

At the rough response, Spain laughed, before leaning and kissing him roughly, humming at the tangy sweetness of his taste. Prussia and his foul mouth. He wouldn't have him any other way in truth. Rough and loud and crude, these were Prussia and this was what he liked having by his side. Besides, they were friends, were they not? Spain knew how to keep his friends happy. He also knew how to keep colonies disciplined and keep control of his enemies. At times brute strength was not the answer.

He released Prussia from the kiss soon enough, giving him a most approving smile. "I'll have you no other way..."

England had said it before, "Run while you still can. He'll fool you with pretty smiles and prettier promises and then you will be lost..." Spain begged to differ, of course.

\o/

[gewehrundblut]

"Gute." He presses close, hands already seeking to divest Spain of all those clothes, since it's hardly fair that he's sitting here naked, while Spain is still fully covered. He'd like to argue the point that brute force is not always the answer, because he feels it tends to be the best answer and the one most likely to generate a reliable outcome.

"Cause I don't change for anyone." Another bite to Spain's neck, this time intent on leaving a mark, because he refuses to give in to the submissive desires without at least doing that much.

Sometimes? England is entirely wrong. Just for the record. Why ever would he want to run from his dear friend?

[diosorogloria]

"Indeed you don't." Spain allowed Prussia to have his way with this clothes, not minding at all how strange this must be for others. They were friends and yet had no qualms about undressing and touching and kissing. He could just imagine his priests and bishops screaming in outrage, but he paid it no mind. This was always their way and what was being an Empire if he couldn't have his way every so often?

He sighed, almost purring at the bite as he welcomed his friend deeper into the warmth of his embrace. He kissed over a pale shoulder, running fingertips down along that spine (poor Gilbert is so thin. They would have to fix that) and gave an answering, harder nip. It was tempered by a kiss and whispered words, "I love you the way you are, Gilbert..."

Spain wondered that himself a lot of the time. They were friends. What was there to run from?

[gewehrundblut]

His unending response to anyone who would consider their behaviour strange is that they can kindly take their opinions and walk them off the edge of a cliff. There is nothing strange at all, to him, about a friend who you can enjoy all manner of pleasant diversions with, whether it's fighting a war or engaging in something even more base than that. Not that he can't picture so many of his former bosses, old priests, and current reverends doing much the same as Spain's religious would do, but in this day and age he hardly cares about any God except perhaps War -and he rather fancies himself to be that deity.

His hands slide under Spain's shirt, while he hums in contentment at the warmth and the embrace. With the nip, his whole body responds, shuddering as a moan is coaxed from his throat. "D-don't say such things, sir..." It's embarrassing to him to hear those words; he can't quite help it. Just to drive his point home, he digs fingernails into Spain's flesh, dragging his hands down to leave faint, raised weals in their wake.