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.
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.”
Only his iron-clad will and years of practise prevented him from gaping at her, although his ears went from uncomfortably warm to might-catch-his-hair-on-fire burning.
He adjusted his glasses again, the only outward sign of his discomfort, besides his ears. “Alright,” he agreed, cursing them silently. His father would have scolded him something fierce. He always said that keeping one’s emotions under control was the most important aspect in a man, and Roderich could normally pull it off (as Elizabeth put it, his expressions ranged from ‘neutral’ to ‘slightly grumpy’) except for his damned ears that went up like torches at the slightest provocation.
“Thank you!” she exclaimed, leaping up from her chair and planting a kiss to his temple. “With you, I’m sure it will be wonderful.” Then she whirled away in a rustle of skirts and the smell of lavender, leaving Roderich with his stained shirt and a glowing feeling in his chest.
Of course, that glowing feeling lasted only as long as it took to change his outfit.
Oh god, what was he going to do? Elizabeth wanted to… to… consummate.
She deserved the best. Her first time should be wonderful, magical; in fact, she had stated that she expected as much from him. Unfortunately, he was inexperienced with love.
Which was why he was now treading his carpet threadbare in his study. It wasn’t that he had never had the opportunity, it was just, well, he was too busy during his childhood, too studious in school, and thought himself above the uses of certain… facilities. To tell the truth, the thought of a wife had never really crossed his mind, so the idea of learning to please said wife hadn’t really come up.
A knock on the door interrupted him from his less than pleasant thoughts. He forced his feet to still.
“The books you requested, sir,” the butler intoned.
“Thank you; you may leave,” he said with a flippant wave, his voice never changing from the monotone that he used with all the servants, appearing to be calmly peering out the window to the grounds behind the house.
As soon as the door clicked closed, Roderich made a beeline for the small pile the man had left on the table. There were only two ways he knew of how to perfect something – either practice continuously until one got it right, as he did with his pianoforte, or (seeing as how practicing something like that was entirely out of the question) study as many different sources as one could and hope it was an easy theory to put into practice.
Roderich was sincerely banking on the second option.
He flipped open the first book to a random page and felt his ears redden again as he slammed it shut. There was no way he could read… that! That!
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heartbeat. No, he had to do this. For Elizabeth. He forced himself back into a chair and settled in to study.
Roderich took a deep breath. He was sure he had set everything up for the evening. He was slightly disappointed that his first suit was still in the process of being cleaned, but it was a minor detail that could be easily overlooked.
He met his wife outside the dining hall.
“You look beautiful,” he told her, offering his arm. It was true. She was wearing a powder blue dress that made her green eyes shine. Her hair had been pulled back and tied with a matching ribbon, drawing it away from her face, but still allowing it to cascade down her back. It was a plain but beautiful look that suited Elizabeth.
“Thank you,” she replied, nodding shyly. He led her into the hall where he had specifically instructed the servants to set their places together. Her breath caught just audibly, and he risked a glance down at her to see the corners of her mouth tilted up.
They ate together, making idle conversation, although Roderich noticed she wasn’t as bubbly as she usually was. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, though, so he let it alone for the moment.
After a truffle dessert, Roderich stood and offered his hand to his wife. She slid hers in slowly, almost nervously.
Well, Roderich couldn’t blame her for that. He was nervous as well on the inside, although it was a thrilling sort of giddiness, like the type he felt before a concert or a meeting with his ministers.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Elizabeth breathed as she glimpsed the master bedroom for the first time. Roderich had tried to soften the masculinity of his chambers by adding rows upon rows of candles, each flickering and throwing a halo of light over the room. Sitting on a small table was a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and two crystal goblets. Rose petals had been strewn over the bed and the floor, their delicate scent almost as appealing as Elizabeth’s.
Roderich silently thanked some of the writers of the books he had read before leading her into the room and closing the door softly behind them.
“Would you like some champagne?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, smiling at him. He squeezed her hand once and let go to open the bottle.
This bottle however, had a very stubborn cork. He managed to pry his thumb underneath, but try as he might, he couldn’t quite get it out. He propped the bottom of the bottle against his stomach and tried using both thumbs.
Roderich and Elizabeth stood to the side as servants swept up the broken crystal and provided a new glass. The corners of his mouth were turned down ever so slightly, matched and opposed however, by the upturned corners of his wife’s mouth.
After several minutes, the servants were gone and the couple was alone again.
Persevere, Roderich encouraged himself, pouring out two glasses of the sparkling wine and handing one to his wife.
He clinked their glasses together so they rang softly. “To us,” he whispered, before downing most of his drink.
“To us,” Elizabeth whispered back, doing the same.
He took the glass from her, setting it back on the table, and then returned to cup his hand along her face, his fingers curving around her ear. She looked up at him with those clear green eyes and he couldn’t help the soft lowering of his face to hers. He brushed his lips over soft eyelashes, over her slightly rounded nose before coming to rest over hers.
She leaned in slightly and pushed her mouth more firmly against his. He moved in closer, sliding his free hand around her back, pushing her against him. He felt her hands slid up his chest and fiddle with his cravat. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting champagne and truffle and something purely Elizabeth, and she gasped.
They had kissed more than once before, at their wedding, at several public appearances – chaste little kisses that did nothing for either of them. This kiss, however, made up for them all. Desire whipped through his body, pooling low in his abdomen, making it hard for him to breathe…
Wait a minute. It really was getting hard to breath. He broke his mouth away and saw his wife with a worried look.
“I think I really messed this up,” she said, apparently trying to choke him to death with his own cravat. He had to step away from her and spend several minutes trying to work the knot out of the fabric. When it was finally undone, he slipped it from around his neck, and slipped off his jacket, laying them both over the back of one of the chairs in his room.
He stepped back to her and she returned his embrace willingly, their mouths meeting again. As he kissed her, he slowly unbuttoned the back of her dress, revealing a simple white camisole and bloomers underneath. His mouth travelled to her neck, his lips tracing the hollow in her throat as he lowered the garment so she could step free of it. She did so and he casually tossed it towards the chair that his own clothing was on.
Her breasts were slightly on the small side, but perfectly visible underneath the thin cotton. He cupped one gently, his tongue still making small curlicues on her neck, and was delighted when she gasped again, her fingers threading into his brown hair.
Something tickled his nose, but he ignored it, instead rubbing his cheek along the outside curve of her breast before turning his head slightly and pressing a kiss to the cloth covered flesh.
“Do you smell something burning?” Elizabeth asked him, her voice slightly husky.
He sighed and turned his head slightly, his eyes coming to rest on something on fire that definitely wasn’t one of the candles.
Apparently, he had been a little off in his aim of her dress, and had knocked over one of the candles, which was now transferring its flame to the hem of her dress.
He leapt away from her with a curse, rushing over to the burning gown. He began attempting to fold the cloth over itself to smother out the flame.
“Get me something to put this out,” he instructed.
Elizabeth rushed and grabbed the first liquid she came across. Rushing back to his side, she tried to help.
“Elizabeth, no!” But it was too late. She had upended the bottle of champagne over the dress. The alcohol ignited, turning the slight smouldering of her gown into a genuine bonfire.
Roderich and Elizabeth, now covered in Roderich’s coat, stood to the side, watching the servants sweep up the ashen remains of her gown. Roderich had his arms crossed over his chest, his frown considerably more pronounced, but Elizabeth had a hand thrown up over her mouth, her green eyes sparkling.
As soon as they had left, he turned to his wife. “Er, perhaps we should simply disrobe to prevent any further mishaps,” he suggested, his ears heating up predictably. She nodded, a blush covering her cheeks slightly.
They both turned their backs to each other and removed their respective clothing.
He turned back, adjusting his glasses, his face carefully concealed against any embarrassment (except those damned ears of his), but had to stop, his breath catching in his throat.
Elizabeth was absolutely breathtaking. The candlelight caressed her skin, turning it a golden colour, highlighting the curve of her breath, the dip of her waist, the gentle roundness of her hip. Her hair was slightly tumbled, curling at the ends, the light catching the golden hairs within the brown and making them shimmer.
He stepped close to her.
“You’re so beautiful,” he told her honestly, drawing the side of his hand down the curve of her cheek.
“You too,” she whispered back.
Roderich bent slightly and lifted her into his arms. She was a little heavy, but it was a comfortable heavy, a solid heavy. He set her on the bed almost reverently, her body crushing more of the rose petals, releasing their aroma into the air. He crawled onto the bed after her.
Apparently, his knee had been too close to the edge of the bed and he slipped. The first noise had been his face smacking into the mattress, which wasn’t that bad. The second had been his head whacking onto the floor which hurt a lot more. Neither, however, hurt nearly as bad as his pride.
Elizabeth couldn’t contain it anymore and erupted into gales of laughter.
Roderich stood, and turned his back to her, his spine ramrod straight and stiff, embarrassed, offended, humiliated, and a million other things.
“Thank you,” she said, still laughing, throwing her arms around his waist to prevent him from leaving, laying her head against his lower back. Her hair fell down, tickling his skin, but he was too wounded to really enjoy it.
“What for?” he asked, his voice as stiff as his back.
He could feel her smile against his spine. “For tonight. You’ve really reassured me.”
“But tonight’s been a disaster,” he protested from within gritted teeth, adjusting his glasses.
“Maybe to you, but to me, it’s been wonderful.” She paused for a second, then continued. “I was so nervous. You’re so perfect at everything you do, I was afraid that I’d mess it up somehow.”
“So I messed up instead,” he said dryly, but his spine was slowly relaxing from its steely posture.
“Well, I did too,” she reminded him. “But it’s okay. It’s at times like that that I think of you as ‘Roderich’ and not ‘Austria’. And although I aligned with Austria, it’s Roderich I fell in love with.”
He finally turned towards her, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. “What?”
She laughed. “I said I love you Roderich.”
He couldn’t help himself, and absorbed her laughter with a kiss, pushing her backwards on the bed. Determined to turn her laughter into an even more beautiful music, he lowered his head to her breast.
As she gasped and writhed, his hand sought lower, stroking her soft curls before stretching a finger deep inside.
“Ah,” she cried softly, her thighs shifting against him, her hands running shiver inducing lines along his back.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, not with her making her soft cries in his ear, not with her hands teasing his skin so innocently, yet so seductively.
“Are you ready?” he whispered.
...
Kaoru-no-kimi