A Souji Okita Lemon -- Cascade

Character: Shouji Okita

Fandom: Hakuouki

OC: Makira Itsuka, passive aggressive, wears black kimono with red accents

Inspiration: Makira is taking care of Souji and…stuff happens.  Lol :D

Souji Okita isn't poetic.  He doesn't have a way with words.  He doesn't really know what love feels like.  No, Souji doesn't put a lot of stock into romance, but the first time he saw her, he swore his entire world imploded.  It is a good sort of implosion, a satisfying one.  Not made of anything in particular or earth-shattering, but good.  Wholesome.  And it makes him want more every time he is faced with it.

"Don't you dare," Makira warns.  She swats his hand away from her body as it comes near.  She is all too happy to give him what he wants, but not now.  Her duty comes first, always.  And this time of the day dictates that it is time for Souji's medicine.

Makira never thought she would play nurse to someone like Souji.  She often does such work, even before Kondou hired her to care for the Shinsengumi's sick.  It had started out as a part time sort of job that escalated into more.  Into something that centered around only Souji. 

She stirs the powder medicine into his tea silently, ignoring his stare.  His eyes have a certain power over her that she doesn't want to admit to, so she often chooses not to meet them.  But there is something in the atmosphere today, something that burns and singes between them, and it prompts Makira to gather up the courage to raise her eyes.

Passion.  It swirls in Souji's gaze like a vice, dark and intense.  Makira studies it for a moment, and then turns away and shifts his tea toward him.  He shifts it back.  His eyes are more than intense, she realizes when she goes to tell him to hurry up and take his medicine.  They are quaking with an emotion that cannot be described, only felt.  And Makira feels it in every single muscle, tendon, and cell, right down to her bones.  Bittersweet lust.  Twisted desire.  Knowledge.

"Souji - " she wants to tell him that now isn't the time for such intricate feelings.  She wants to turn away and leave his room.  It is hardly noon and she had things to attend to, other patients to help.  But his hand snaps out for her wrist before she can stand and he holds her in place.  Not with the firmness of his grasp, but with the rest of him, which is nothing less than overpowering.

"Stay," he utters.  It is a sacred word.  It is breathed past lips that are yearning for her, into air that is stale without her immediate presence.  He needs her, now.  That much is discernable from the unshaken resolve in his dark eyes.

She obeys.  She's not sure why, only that she suddenly can't leave.  It is almost as if her entire universe is suddenly altered.  He is now the sun in which she orbits, the stars which lead her through space and time, the equinox between passion and normality.  Gravity, meaning, importance.

He lets her move in her own time, content to sat back and watch.  Makira pauses, finger touching the rim of the tea in an almost hesitant manner.  And then all at once she pushes the tray away, skidding it a few feet to her right before crawling toward him.

They meet in melodramatic bliss, sighing out as though the world has been keeping them apart.  He drags one hand into her hair and catches her mouth with his.  Their lips move in a frenzy, as if making up for lost time.  She throws one leg over both of his and pushes him onto his back, immediately restarting their kiss.

"Someone will catch us," Makira whispers out, though she doesn't slow down and she doesn't seem to care.  Her words were merely an observation, an edge of a warning.  Souji takes it all into stride as he grunts and breaths, "No, they won't."  They won't.  He says it with such assuredness that it makes the thought fly away.  Bold pleasure quickly replaces it.

The next moment finds Makira flat on her back with hardly any knowledge as to how she got there.  Souji smirks down at her and her eyes burst with delicious lust that makes him feel empowered.  He leans down to kiss her hard, moving his tongue against her mouth.  She sighs out at the pleasurable taste of him and lets him overpower her.  She likes this, though she will never admit it.  She likes to be helpless beneath him, likes to see the bold lines of his face sneer down at her in something akin to hard passion.  It makes her feel alive, makes her world explode with color.

She gasps out as his hands move.  They surprise her with quick caresses that leave her cold and hot at the same time.  They bypass her clothes and press calloused touches to her bare skin, down her back, around her hips, atop her thighs.  She wants to die and live and feel and love him.  She wants to have every single part of him, physical and emotional and mental and spiritual.

The depth of her thoughts make the moment all the sweeter, and Makira forces herself to break the hasty kiss in favor of more interesting endeavors.  Souji stares down at her with knowing eyes, all too happy to see her gaze flare to life with determination.  Her hands smooth down covered chest, twice, before she delves beneath the fabric and pushes it aside.  Immediately, she is met with pale skin, strewn with scars yet still flawless, to her.  A moment passes them by and bathes them in a sweet sort of reverence that surprises Souji.  But he likes it, like the delicate way it changes Makira's features into something more feminine, something less rough.

But she takes too long in her admiration of him.  Souji leans back, abandoning his own pursuit of her flesh as he turns to his own.  He sends a soft smirk down to his lover and watches in amusement as it causes an even softer blush to catch her cheeks.  She never blushes unless she is laid out beneath him, watching as the lust shakes their bodies and turns them into something more, greater than mere humanity, immortal.

His hands make quick work of his robe.  It shifts down his shoulders easily, creating a sort of halo of colored cloth and skin.  For a moment, Makira watches, as though he is a rare sliver of beauty that she can't look away from.  And then, when Souji begins to tend to the remaining clothes, that beauty shatters and is replaced with something so much stronger.  It is mesmerizing and exquisite and alluring. 

And then that moment passes, too, and in it's wake is only the carnal touch of desire.  It moves Makira like nothing else, transforming the delicate blush of her cheeks into something bolder, more pronounced and less shy.  She has no reason to be nervous around Souji.  She has seen more of him in these past few months than she has seen of any other man.  So she sits up, face looming near to his.  Their breath intermingles but they don't touch.  There is something about the closeness that is revering, important.  It remains unbroken as Makira raises her hands to her own clothes. 

Souji watches.  He watches as she loosens the robe that covers her.  He watches as she slips it down pale, perfect shoulders and reveals to him her chest.  He watches as it lands in a soft swish of cloth on his futon.  And then he can't simply watch anymore.  It's too painful and his hands betray him.  He reaches out to her, touching first her waist.  Then her breasts, rolls his calloused fingers over the soft skin, over her nipples, around the fullness of her chest.  He watches, for a moment, the effect this touch has on her before he realizes that it isn't enough.  He wants more.  So he takes more.

The last remaining clothes on Makira's body disappears.  She is gently pushed back down.  Souji's eyes flicker over her nakedness.  They aren't memorizing.  He already knows everything about her.  Instead, he is reassessing, and then he is delivering.  His touch makes her gasp out in harsh delight that knows no end.  There is only the 'middle'.  The middle of their lovemaking, the middle of their day, the middle of their desires.  Beginnings and ends have no hold here. 

"Souji," she whimpers, and reaches for him.  He lets out a soft exhalation that is almost a chuckle, and kisses her.  It is a reassuring kiss, and it silently tells her that she must remain patient.  It is hard for them to do so when they are faced with such unequivocal desire, but Souji knows how sweet it will be if they can allow it to build slowly, and so when he goes back to touch her it is with gentle caresses. 

His fingers have a mind of their own and, even as his touch remains soft, Souji is also faced with the harsh need to see her break.  He wants to watch her scream his name, wants her to come quickly and then take her even more quickly.  It is an abstract sort of lust that hastens the gentleness and makes him slide his fingers down, down.  Into soft curls and then into wet folds.  His eyes flicker to her face and he is amused by her expression, and also lusty and narrow-minded.  He wants her, but he also wants to see her come for him before they are united.  He won't be happy until she does.

His fingers sink into her flesh, following the path of her wet core.  She bites her bottom lip when he slowly pushes past her walls.  And then his pace is faster, quicker, harder, and he very nearly brings her to her quickest orgasm yet.

But he stops, thankfully, ruefully, just she Makira is about to come hurtling over the edge of reason.  He stops and then starts again, much slower, in such a teasing fashion that it makes Makira glare at him.  She opens her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but then throws her head back in a harsh gasp.  Souji will have none of that.  He picks up his pace again and this time, circles his thumb around the very sensitive areas he knows will make her cry out.

She doesn't cry out though, and that's what makes his resolve harden.  He wants to her lose herself and come for him.  He will make her forget everything around her and see stars, raining down on her from the heavens.  He will make her see only him.

He does, and it isn't as hard as he thought it might be.  He brings her to her end slowly, building up the tension in her body until it is as breaking point and then immediately tumbling his fingers faster.  Lightening seems to strike her solid.  Her body tenses and she moans out long and hard and her hips jerk against his fingers and he pushes her down, down into his futon.  And then he withdraws his fingers, brings them to his lips.  She watches him with eyes that are so heady, so deprived that it makes him harder than ever.  And then she curses at him.

"You bastard," she drawls lazily.  He smirks at her slowly and watches as her eyes flicker down to his manhood, which strains out toward her.  He doesn't try to stop her from touching him.  He wants her to, and he nearly closes his eyes in bliss as her fingers lightly stroke the sensitive skin.  But it isn't enough, it never is, and hardly a minute later Souji is pulling her hand away, pushing her back down, hovering over her with intense, determined, stark eyes.

"I need you," he tells her, and it's true.  He's dying to bury himself into those delicious wet folds.  He can't stand another moment of his sweet torture.  He doesn't care if it is noon and if people can hear their actions or guess at what they are doing.  He doesn't care if there is only a flimsy paper wall separating them from the rest of the world.  He is going to take her.

She lets him.  Of course she does.  She wants nothing more than to be one with him.  Her arms wrap around his neck and she brings him down for a kiss.  Their lips move hastily as he lines himself up, and then the kiss is broken and he pushes himself into her and their worlds are demolished into tiny little fragments that make no sense unless they are put together.

It is a quick coupling and yet it isn't.  it ultimately doesn't take long for them to find their end.  Makira is still feeling the after effects of her previous orgasm and Souji is so hard that he ends faster than he'd like to admit.  And yet as they remain together the world seems to slow down, lengthen, make room for them.  And they get lost in the intricate movements of their bodies and the silent words that leave their parted lips and the emotion, which drags through them in such a primal way that they are left breathless in each other's arms.

"Souji," Makira whispers again, but this time it is not to make him pick up his pace but rather to slow down.  Because she never wants this to end.  She wants to stay like this for eternity, against all odds and all forms of reality.  Souji's tuberculosis, the Shinsengumi, the war.  It all creates a wall that cages them in and yet separates them even in private.

He slows down, for her.  Even though he wants to jump ahead and spill himself into her like an adolescent boy.  He does it because he can see the look in her eyes and he knows what she is thinking of and he wants to take her mind off of it.  He is dedicated to the Shinsengumi and the war, but in these soft, passionate moments he hates the ties that keep him connected to such hatred.  In these moments, all he wants is one thing, one person, and she is someone he can never truly have. 

It makes their ending bittersweet.  They come separately but very close to one another.  Makira is pushed off the edge first, and the delicious pulse that singes through her body prompts Souji's own release.  He thrusts hard into her, folding his arms above her head and kissing her.  Bittersweet, rough, antagonizing.  And yet so, so perfect.  He draws out their pleasure slowly with sporadic movements before lowering himself onto the futon beside her, still connected.

As they lay still, catching their breath, sinking into each other's hold, they allow that bitterness to cascade over them. 

She almost says she loves him, but she can't get the words out.  They get stuck in her throat like a lie, like a tragedy.  She wonders if she will ever be able to tell him.  Because withholding such a powerful truth is unhealthy, stupid, and it will make her regret for the rest of her life.

She wraps an arm around him, throws her leg around his waist.  Souji shifts and pulls her closer.  They lay together silently, softly, and the noon time sun begins it's slow arch across the sky.

~~~

An England Lemon -- Something Like Inspiration

Character: England

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

OC: Alexis Selvea, stormy eyes, sassy, a writer

Inspiration: Eh...sorry for the picture.  Couldn't find any good England images D:  Gonna be accepting some requests soon so everyone should look out for that!! 

It was one to those days.  And it was driving Alexis crazy, insane, mental with boredom.  Even the characters she was writing weren't reacting how they should.  The room, normally filled with inspiration and creative thought, was nothing more than a drab reminder that she had a deadline to meet in only four days.  And she'd barely even started.  And she'd run out of coffee.  And her fingers were cramped.

"ARG!" she tossed a pen at the wall, feeling a twisted sort of pleasure as it added to the splattered ink marks of its previously fallen brethren. 

Her office was littered with the most random items, but their oddness were usually what contributed to her thought process.  A birds nest on the side table, a bowl of stones beside it, the flag of a country she couldn't even name hung up on the far wall.  She added to the room on a whim, basing her addition decorations on how they matched color-wise and how strange they were.  But even looking at the decorative four-foot tree in the corner didn't help her mood.

"What's wrong, love?" the sudden voice of her husband wondered from the doorway.  She glanced over at him and saw the mug of coffee in his hands.  Her eyes danced with something that Arthur couldn't really identify, except that it edged on a sort of danger that he didn't dare approach.

She leaned forward, "Coffee."  And watched as he rolled his eyes and stepped into the room.  He set the mug on her desk and watched with mild amusement as she lifted it immediately and took a thankful sip.  She practically inhaled the damned stuff.  Something about it being her 'liquid inspiration'.

Arthur slid his hands to her shoulders, rubbing them softly as he gazed over her head at the open laptop.  She was hardly two paragraphs in, and it was apparent that she was writing a romance scene for one of her books.  He recognized it as the chapter that she'd been dragging her feet to write.

"Well?" he questioned, kissing the side of her head.  "What happens next?  Is the coffee helping that over-imaginative mind of yours?"

It wasn't.  Alexis sighed and shook her head.  She craned her neck to look up at him and pouted, "Arthur.  I'm suffering from the biggest mental block I've ever had."

He smiled down at her, somehow finding the situation much more endearing that she did.  "Well, you don't usually write romance scenes.  Maybe you should switch to something else for a while and then go back to it."

She stared at him for a long moment, and he raised a brow at her in return.  Her voice, when she next spoke, was riddled in an emotion he knew very, very well.  "Or I could take a break.  With you."  And her mouth twisted into a smile that he dearly wanted to kiss.

"Mmm…I think…it might be in your best interest to do exactly that," he murmured, smirking softly and turning her swivel chair to face him.  Her arms slid up his neck and he leaned in, hands shifting beneath her thighs to lift her up into his arms.  Their lips met with a sense of soft accommodation that quickly turned hasty, direct, intense.

He set her on her desk and her legs wrapped themselves around him, pulling his hips against hers.  His mouth was like a storm, pushing and pulling; giving and taking.  His love filled her up with all the strange bliss that filtered around the room.

Her fingers tunneled through his hair and she tugged his head back, watching with heady eyes as he groaned and stopped.  "What is it?" he wondered, his hands tightly grasping the back of her shirt as he waited for her to speak.

She pouted, "Arthur, be a little bit more romantic and take me to the bedroom or something." 

He raised a brow at her, "You've never complained before."

"Yes, well, before I wasn't struggling with my inspiration.  Now distract me properly."

He sighed and lifted her back up, immediately going in to kiss her as he walked to the door.  She responded wholeheartedly, melting against him as he jostled her with every step.  She was too distracted to decide if he was doing it on purpose or not, but it didn't matter anyway.  The bedroom was only a few doors down.

And entirely too far away.

"Mmm!  Arthur, stop, stop," she murmured, drawing away for the second time.  He shot her a narrowed look that she didn't really take as a threat and he said, "Alexis, I don't care where we do this so hurry up and take your pick.  Bedroom or office."  Because God, the only thing he was interested in at that point was taking her.  Burying himself so deeply within her that he'd have to struggle just to remember his name.

Evidentially, it was all she could think about, too.  Which was why, as Alexis dragged her fingers through his blonde hair, all she could really say was, "Wall," and trust that he understood.

He did, he definitely did, and hardly a moment later Arthur had her pressed between the hallway wall and him.

He ground his erection against her core and watched with through lidded eyes as she arched her back, hungrily pushing for more of the delicious contact.  But Arthur's mind was elsewhere, and his fingers moved mindlessly over her clothing, pulling at it until her shirt was hanging loose and her pants were shifted down her legs.

And then, after fixing his own pants, he was inside of her, and she was gasping and moaning because this contact felt ten times better when it was bare and raw and burning through her.

The wall wasn't a cushion, but there was something sinfully perfect about it that made being pressed up against it sweet, romantic.  She closed her eyes and sunk into the harsh feeling of being entirely dominated, a feeling that she appreciated and even longer for.  And then she opened her eyes again because she had to see him.  Had to watch him quake and shudder and moan and move.  Sinful, erotic, hers.

He breathed out her name and shifted her in his arms, pushing her farther up the wall to create more space.  The result was a barrage of thrusts that had Alexis skyrocketing, shooting upwards and moaning.  Her head hit the wall as she arched her back, pressing forward, against him.  Her fingers jaunted over the collar of his shirt, which still hung around his frame.  The entire moment was haphazard at best.  Their clothes were half on, half off and it was hard to be intimate against a wall, of all places.  But the moment was also delicious, so so amazing, simply because Arthur was around her, taking her, loving her and it made her want to explode.

Which she did, not long afterwards because his thrusts felt so good inside her and his length was so hard and amazing.  She gasped loudly and suddenly felt herself coming uncontrollably, moaning out his name loudly and tugging at his hair and kissing him and becoming utterly undone.  He watched her come with half lidded eyes that screamed out in thick desire, and when she'd finished Arthur leaned against the wall and continued on his own, still hard and so turned on.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, and they shared an exasperated chuckle that had more to do with the hurtling amount of desire they faced than the actual fact that she finished ahead of him.  Arthur only moaned and stumbled back, "S'fine."  And Alexis gave him a soft smile as he let her down.

"I'll take care of that," she said, smirking and glancing down at his length, which was hard and soaked from their contact.  He blushed a little but she didn't seem to notice.  Instead, Alexis slipped her hand into his and lead him into the bedroom, closing the door behind her even though they were alone in their house.

She didn't bother teasing him.  That sort of frivolous play was far behind them, lost in the tumults of desire and heart-wrenching lust.  There was really only one thing on Arthur's mind and she knew that, so Alexis wasted no time in pushing Arthur down onto the mattress and kissing his chest.

"How do you want me?" she asked him, almost playfully.  Her voice was tinted in a desperate, thick lust that had him craving her.  His hands pulled her into him and he pressed open mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder.  "All of you, now," he ordered, and she nearly moaned at the sinful, decadent quality of it.

Her womanhood was still zinging with the sensation of her last orgasm.  When she pushed her lover back and slid down onto it, she threw her head back at the shattering feeling of coupling after such a short amount of time.  The moment she was fully sheathed on his member, Arthur immediately dove back into the passion, thrusting upward and burying himself again and again and again.

It felt ridiculously amazing.  She was slick and hot from her orgasm and Arthur felt so good.  He gripped her hips hard, pulling her down forcefully and rocking his hips against hers as though their lives depended upon it.  As though the Earth would crumble and fall if he didn't take her hard.  As though the sky would darken and the sun would explode and the stars would fall down down down in a shower of angry light.

They tipped into a world of their own making as they came.  Arthur lost himself first, ramming his hips and pulling her into his passion.  Alexis felt a second orgasm implode within her as she watched her lover come, his face screwed up in bliss, his body careening forward, his moans washing over her.

She tilted her head back and came hard on his member, gasping loudly, whimpering his name.  It was a force to be reckoned with, their love, and it made them immortal as they rode out the throes of lust; and satisfied as they breathed loudly and collapsed; and utterly at peace as they laid together in a warm embrace.

"Well…" Arthur gasped, smirking, "how was that for inspiration?"

Alexis could only grin giddily, press a kiss to his chest, and close her eyes.  The warm silence carried with them throughout the rest of the night.

~~~

A Bad Touch Trio Lemon -- Fire, Ignited

Character(s): Prussia, Spain, and France

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

OC: Audrey, long brown hair, blue eyes, quick to anger

Inspiration: Oh I don't know..how bout a hotel room?

Life was never boring when Audrey was friends with the three countries before her now.  They seemed to have a knack for causing a wide variety of trouble and she always seemed to be the one to get them out of it.  As a lawyer, she supposed it was in her nature to help others in such a way.  But it didn't mean she had to like it.  At least, she didn't have to like this particular case.

Plus, the hotel room that was France's wasn't allowing Audrey to feel very comfortable.  She knew it was probably a bad idea to accept any offer he made -- especially when it involved hotel rooms -- but she was pressed for time and had other entanglements.  Like the UN meeting that was going to take place only two hours from then.

All the countries were gathered in this hotel for that sole purpose.  It was the first time such a thing had happened, but then again this year was a commemorative one.  There was to be a big annual party after the meeting to celebrate the UN's anniversary creation and whatnot.

"Is the champagne to your liking, Mademoiselle?"  France's voice drifted over the quiet lull of the room.  He leaned back in his own chair and swished the contents of his glass around as though to annunciate his question.  Audrey opened her mouth to respond, but Prussia beat her to it as he scoffed and crossed his arms, "Nein, I'm sure she would rather have some Prussian beer, wouldn't you Frau?"  Spain merely watched platonically.

With a roll of her eyes Audrey tore her gaze back to the stack of papers sitting in her lap.  She'd been filling them out for the past half hour, trying to make sense of the ridiculous matters that these three had gotten into.  Something about a massive breakage inside an antique shop.  It had probably been France's idea, and Prussia had most likely been the one to mess it up so horribly.  And Audrey never really understood Spain's part in the trio, because he shifted from the prime evildoer to the background music and every time she was forced to get involved, his place was different.

She jotted down her signature on the paper she was reading and sighed, pulling it out and handing it to Prussia, who was closest.  "Sign this, would you?  And then give it to the others to sign."

He looked at it with narrowed, untrusting eyes, "What is this, Frau?"

"Don't call me that." She warned, and then said, "It's proof that I'm your lawyer and that I'm responsible for you at the court hearing in two weeks."  She glanced at the seemingly innocent expressions on the faces around her and scowled darkly, "So don't you dare muck it up, ya hear?"  Because she, of all people, knew how adapt they were at causing havoc.

France raised a brow, "Court hearing?  You've always been able to get us out of them before.  Are you loosing your touch, ma cherie?  I could reignite it -- ohonhonhon~"

Audrey rolled her eyes again and threw him a glare.  "Not interested.  And something's gotta give this time.  I can't save your asses every time you mess up."  Under her breath, she muttered, "Why couldn't I have been assigned to a different set of countries?!"

Spain chuckled, being the only one to have heard her as France and Prussia began arguing.  He leaned in, mischievous spark in his emerald eyes, and told her, "Life would simply not be the same without us, mi Tomate~"

She raised a brow, "That's the first time I've heard you speak all day, Antonio."  He just gave her a smile and shrugged.  He was definitely playing sweet.

Audrey nodded to herself and stood up, brushing off her pencil skirt and rearranging her papers.  When she looked up, she was surprised to find all three pairs of eyes were turned to her, and the room had became strangely silent.  She tilted her head curiously.  "I'm finished here.  I'll be back in my office cataloguing these -- "

"Non, mon fue [1].  You will be finished when we say you can."  When she looked into France's eyes, they were overcome by the same mischief that had been in Spain's only moment before.

Confusion captured her features.  Did they want something else?  She had done all she could for them this time around.  The court hearing was final and they were lucky they didn't get more.  When she asked her question allowed, Prussia was the one to respond, and his voice held traces of a deep, husky amusement that confused Audrey all the more.

"Kesese.  We want a lot of things from you, Frau.  You have no idea."

And she didn't.  The only thing she was aware of was her own gut feeling, which was screaming at her to leave.  The atmosphere of the room had shifted from light to dark and she suppressed a shiver at the realization.

Suddenly, two hands appeared at her shoulders and pushed her back into her chair with a gentle force.  When she glanced behind her at Spain, he merely gave her that smile of his and patted her head as though she were a child. 

France stood up, placing his empty champagne glass on a nearby surface before meandering to the hotel door.  The ominous click of the lock sent Audrey's heart racing against her chest.  She had a vague idea of what was happening -- she wasn't stupid, you know -- and her fears began to come to life as she felt Spain's hands on her shoulders once more.

Only they didn't stay at her shoulders.  They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping down her arms, thumbs rubbing relaxing circles against the sleeves of her blouse as he went.  His hot breath spread over her ear and she shivered, trying to make sense of the jumbled emotions that were solidifying within her.

But it was useless, and she became even more confused as Spain undid the first button of her blouse, and then the next.  Her face exploded with red and, in a moment of desperation, she lunged out and clung to Spain's hands to prevent him from doing anything more.  Yes, she was frightened, and she wasn't sure what she wanted.  She'd never had three men at once before and it was jostling her confidence.  And, she knew, it was against her belief to have affairs with her bosses.

But Spain gently loosened her grasp from his hands, and his lack of force calmed her.  He reached up to palm her cheek, pushing her chin towards him and letting her see his smile. 

"No need to worry, Querida [2].  We just want to help you relax."  His lips wavered over hers, as though gauging her reaction.  When Audrey didn't reject him, Antonio pressed a soft kiss to her mouth.

It made her heart nearly jump out of her chest.  Her eyes drifted closed and she was gone, self control meaningless in the face of Antonio's sweet lips.  She had never known him to be quite this gentle, and it pleased her as much as it surprised her.

They were interrupted only when Prussia scoffed loudly and stood.  His eyes were hard and intense when Audrey looked up at him.  A little bit of her fear returned as a result, for he was a drastic difference from Spain.

"How about we get the real fun going, hmm?" he knelt down before her chair, nestled between her legs as his hands slid up to grasp onto her thighs.  Audrey blinked down at him and then scowled, somehow feeling more annoyed than scared.  It was that smirk, she decided.  She wanted to wipe that annoying smirk off of Prussia's face.

But certain things had to be taken into account before that could happen.  Like the fact that Spain's hands were drifting again, and her shirt was nearly undone.  And the fact that Prussia was also getting impatient as he fiddled with the zipper of her skirt. 

"Verdammt [3],"  he scowled, and Audrey had to suppress a laugh because she quite enjoyed his displeasure.  Unfortunately for her, the Prussian albino caught it. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, and with one hard pull, the zipper snapped in his hands and he tore the fabric of her skirt up her thighs.  Audrey gasped and then glared at him.  "That was my favorite skirt, you asshole." 

But her words had no effect on Prussia.  He merely threw her an amused smirk and told her, "I'll make up for it very soon, Spatzi [4]."  And then he was hooking his fingers into her panties and tugging them down her smooth legs.

She blushed heavily and squirmed in the chair, feeling exposed and uncomfortable.  She'd move to cover herself, but Spain had her upper body preoccupied.  And there was also that lingering feeling that told her how much she wanted to proceed.

She wouldn't lie, at least not to herself.  Audrey had dreamt of these men.  They were attractive -- almost sinfully so -- and many a night had been spent laying awake and restless as she wondered what she was to them.  She liked to think of herself as a friend, but what they were doing now spoke differently.

Spain had finished undoing her shirt as she was lost in her thoughts, and the feel of cold air hitting her abdomen brought her back to the present.  But Spain did not remove the shirt completely, and for that she was grateful.  It was only a shred of decency, but it made Audrey feel a little bit better about being so terribly exposed.

She felt a finger swirl around her clit, and looked down to watch Gilbert touch her.  It gave her a dizzying effect, and she had to close her eyes for a moment.  When she opened them again, the Prussian man was staring at her with those intense red eyes of his, and it caused thousands of shivers to implode within her. 

He thumbed her nub, rolling his fingers against her folds and skillfully pleasing her.  She was still uncomfortable, but not so much as before. 

Spain's hands slid down her, and she realized that she'd nearly forgotten about him.  He felt her up with one fluid stroke, pressing lightly past her breasts and swirling around her naval.  As he retraced his movements, Antonio caught the edges of her bra and slid the cups down.

Audrey gasped and craned her head back as his hands descended upon her breasts.  That, coupled with the fingers that Prussia was now pumping in and out of her, was making her quickly forget about who and what she was.

But it wasn't Spain's touch or Prussia's fingers that ultimately gave way to her peak.  No, it was the eyes that were watching her from across the room, twinkling in hidden mischief and something else, something greater and more powerful than she could understand.  It was the lustful eyes of France that made Audrey gasp as her orgasm ripped through her.  She didn't look away from him once as she came.  She couldn't -- she was too busy studying the dark promise that captured his beautiful blue gaze.

The silence afterwards was one of relieved desperation.  Audrey breathed deeply, legs still spread apart even though Prussia's fingers had long since left her.  She couldn't bear the thought of moving in any way or dispelling the peaceful atmosphere of the room.  Not until France gave her a reason to, anyway.

Even now, in the midst of their sinful actions, he managed to play the romantic as he drew her hands toward him and pressed his mouth to her knuckles.  His eyes peered up at her, shifting over the planes of her face with a suave smirk that made her heart sprint back up.

"Are you feeling better now, ma cheri?"  a swift chuckle wavered over her skin.

His eyes were alight with such mischief that Audrey couldn't help but feel rather excited about it.  She was sure that she'd remember this day long after it happened, and there was little doubt in her mind that France would be the one she remembered best of all.

So in a bout of devilry, Audrey decided to play coy.  A wicked smirk lit her face and her hand reached out to curl around his belt buckle.  He was dragged closer to her with a promise of dark passion shifting through her eyes.

Oh, France liked to see that.  He liked it very much.  He returned her smirk and chuckled again as he felt her hands begin to smooth out over his body.  Her touch was making him harder and she wasn't even doing anything explicit!  Threading his fingers through her hair, Francis tilted her head upward and, at the last possible moment, crashed his mouth against hers.

This kiss was different from Antonio's.  When Spain's was gentle and forgiving, France's was demanding and hard.  But the effects were still the same, if not greater, and Audrey could feel her body reacting as his hands cupped her neck.

And then, before she could really understand what was going on, France was pulling her onto her feet and the contact between them was broken as she fell onto the nearby mattress.  She glared up at the Frenchman, clearly not appreciating the manhandling.  But her anger lasted for only a moment before she noticed how all three men were standing close to the edge of the bed, gazing at her calmly.

There was nothing quite so erotic as having three men tower over you with such obvious erections.  At least, Audrey thought so.  But she took her time in sitting up, utterly amused by the look of impatience on Prussia's face and the one of hidden lust on Spain's.  France, she decided would be her primary target.  Because she dearly wanted to see what his face looked like when he was lustful enough to be brought to the edge.

Audrey moved to the end of the mattress, directly before France, and drifted her hands over him.  He looked pleased that she had chosen him, and flashed her his signature perverted grin as she began to unbutton his shirt. 

Unfortunately, however, impatience won out over the desire to see him utterly naked.  There was always time for that later, Audrey decided, and so his shirt ended up splaying out over his pale hips as his pants were jerked down.  His erection, which was shockingly hard, twisted up to meet her.

He was big, that much was obvious.  And it was apparent that he'd been ready for a while, maybe before they'd even begun.  Precum was already leaking out of his tip and she couldn't wait to partake in him.  But as much as she wanted to, there was a stark desire surfacing in her control, and it had to do with seeing him helpless and begging.

She hummed and stroked him lightly with teasing fingers.  Her eyes jerked up to his and she smirked at the impatience in his gaze.  But his hands remained in his pockets and he didn't try to force her to do anything.  He merely stood there casually and watched her sit before his cock, eyes darkening in passion with every touch she bestowed. 

Her fingers curled about him and she was surprised to find that she nearly couldn't get all the way around his girth.  Her shock must have shown clearly on her face, because Francis chuckled and finally reached out to her.  His fingers gently stroked her hair, eyes glistening in amusement. 

Damn it, that was exactly the attitude that Audrey was trying to be rid of!  She narrowed her eyes at him and decided to give into temptation and just taste him already.  Her tongue curled out to prod his tip and his breath gently sucked in.  That was a good sign, she reckoned, and so she continued the teasing pass of her slick organ, running it down the bulging vein on the underside of his dick but not quite taking him fully into her mouth.

His control was beginning to strain, she knew.  She could feel it in the way he stood, with his hand tensing in her hair.  She heard it in the way his breath came out slightly faster, and in the way his eyes flickered down at her, as though silently screaming at her to hurry up.

But she wouldn't.  She didn't want to.  This was too precious, this opportunity, and she wasn't going to let it go to waste.  She was already aching again and she knew that she wouldn't feel satisfied until she had France feeling a similar desire.

Something must have broken the self control of the other two, because it wasn't long until they were shuffling out of their clothes and handling their own erections.  Audrey felt Prussia grab her hand and suddenly, she was dealing with two hard cocks.  He forced her fingers around him and guided her movements, one knee propped up against the bed so he wouldn't fall.

Spain didn't try to force her, but Audrey wouldn't let him pleasure himself when she was there.  Her other free hand blindly reached for him, palming his erection and pumping it in and out of her fingers.  She heard him moan lightly at the sudden touch, and his hands slid around her wrists and jostled her faster.  She let him, all her attention being drawn back to the man before her.

She smirked up at him and finally gave him what he dearly wanted.  Her lips wrapped around his length and he released a pent up breath as she began sucking on him.  He tasted good, so good that he didn't even have to tell her to move faster, or to suck him harder.  His hips shifted slightly and set a pace, and she enjoyed meeting it.  It showed her that he wanted more, that he wouldn't be satisfied until she brought him to release, and it made her so excited that she could hardly take it.

Somewhere between the thrusts of France's hips and the movement of her own hands, Audrey felt hands tumble over her.  She couldn't see exactly who it was, but she knew it was probably Spain because it was a gentle touch.  His fingers wandered over her skin and down her back, sliding over her round ass and then slinking back up to cup a breast.  How he was able to multitask like that, she'd never know, but it felt good to have someone glorifying her body and she craved more, wanted more hands to roam over her and discover what made her tick.

All in good time, she thought.  Soon, she would receive that and more.  She whimpered at the thought and knew that France enjoyed hearing it, and also feeling the vibrations of her moan roll up his cock.  He exhaled loudly and buried both hands into her hair, bringing her callously against him as he jerked farther into her mouth.  She choked slightly and he relented immediately, seeming to remember himself.  But she didn't want him to remember himself.  She wanted him to break that tight control and give in.

"Enough of this," Prussia suddenly grunted roughly.  He jerked his hips away from her hand and took a moment to catch his breath, which had been all but lost in the throws of what he'd considered a semi-delicious passion.  But it wasn't full, never full, until he had himself pressed completely within her and was watching her react and gasp and beg for more.

Audrey slowed and drew away from France, ignoring his short whine at the loss of contact.  The blonde nation turned to Prussia with haughty, annoyed eyes, "Be a gentleman and let the Mademoiselle decide."

Audrey was a little surprised at France's words, and at the respect he so obviously had for her.  She glanced up at him and into his fiery blue eyes, and wondered at the emotion caged within them.  He was aching something awful for her, and it showed everywhere: his expression, his eyes, his body, his stiff, hard manhood.  She realized that he was rather like the Grecian statues he often admired, so masculine and yet soft and gentle at the same time.

"Yes, alright," Audrey acquiesced.  It was really about time they started the real fun, after all.  The UN meeting was barely an hour away and she still wanted to try to go to it, and the party afterwards.  So she found herself pushing her body backwards on the bed and glancing at the three men before her.

It was obvious that Prussia wanted the action first.  It was even more obvious that Audrey wanted France to be part of it.  But instead she turned to Spain, who stood quietly and maybe even a little uncomfortably to the side, his gentle brown eyes admiring her soft curves with none of the hunger that lit the other pairs of eyes.

"Spain," Audrey murmured, reaching for him.  Surprise flitted over his face for half a second before it disappeared behind his smiling eyes.  He walked the three steps it took him to get to the bed and slid onto it, sighing out in relief as he pushed his warm body over hers.  "I've always wondered what it felt like to make love to a Spaniard," Audrey whispered to him, so softly that only he could hear, and he smiled widely.  "You will soon find out.  But I'm afraid the others won't let me have you all to myself tonight."

Audrey hummed in agreement and Prussia stepped forward, scowling.  "Fine.  Antonio gets front but I get back!"  The threat was heavy on his tongue and his eyes glittered darkly, but not evilly. 

Audrey sighed and allowed Antonio to wiggle down onto his back.  His cock was throbbing painfully against her inner thigh and she rather thought it felt harder than any other she'd had.  Spain's hands gently caressed her body and brought her down slowly, guiding her smoothly onto his manhood.  She let out a muffled moan at the slight pain his girth brought her, but after a few hesitant thrusts the discomfort had disappeared and all that remained was something akin to bliss.  She dearly wanted to test these feelings out more fully, but Prussia didn't enjoy being ignored and he seemed completely intent of getting his own way.

His hands slid over her ass.  The bed was pushed down as he climbed onto it.  Audrey jerked her head back and looked at him with eyes that were a little frightened, which made him pause in surprise.  "Gilbert…be gentle.  It's my first time doing…you know…"  She didn't know why she couldn't say it.  It wasn't nearly as dirty as what she was doing right now, with three men.  But she was still afraid because she knew it was going to hurt and the thought didn't appeal to her.  And, she knew, Prussia was rarely gentle.

Gilbert hummed and leaned in to kiss her shoulder blade.  "I will try, Spatzi.  Try to relax."

She did try.  It wasn't too hard to do with Spain just below her.  His warm hands and eyes and lips flattened out her worries long enough for her to feel a little excitement, but it wasn't enough to hold her fears away.  They tore back through her as Prussia pushed himself into her.

Her back arched with the tremendous pain and little, harsh whimpers cascaded from her lips.  Audrey buried her head into the crook of Antonio's neck and he embraced her, his fingers tickling promises down her back as she grappled for even ground. 

Prussia was gentle, as gentle as he could manage, and he sacrificed a few long moments that were probably painful for him, too, as she adjusted to him.  But waiting wouldn't cure the discomfort, and soon Gilbert was slowly thrusting into her, easing his own pain but increasing hers.

Antonio whispered to her in soft Spanish, drowning away the rest of the world with his easy, sweet voice and vibrant words.  She kissed his chest and his neck and his cheek and finally his lips, in thanks and in something more primal.  And soon, the pain was completely gone and something else took it's place, something she'd never felt before, something that had her toes curling and moans rocking through her as the two bodies crushed her between them.

"How do you feel now, Spatzi?" Gilbert grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to her shoulder.  She gasped and arched her back, pushing her ass firmly against him as he thrust wildly into her.  She couldn't possibly answer him.  Her words melted before they found air.  She was too busy getting lost in the absolutely wonderful bliss that the two men were giving her.  Two men, not three.  And then her thoughts whirled back to France, who was watching from the chair, doing the only thing he could to find his own pleasure.

A twinge of guilt hit her harder than she thought it would.  She caught his eyes and he sent her a small smile, dark and even a little leery.  Her gaze travelled to his cock and then darted back to his eyes.  She tried to silently tell him the things she'd like to do to him when Antonio and Prussia were done, but whether or not he caught it she didn't know, and her mind quickly relapsed back into the bliss her body was experiencing.

It took a long time to find release, surprisingly.  Gilbert came first, consumed by the tightness that was offered to him.  His pace picked up suddenly and he grunted out something unintelligible in German that was probably a warning, and then he was filling her with his hot seed.  Audrey almost felt bad about him drawing away, and about the lack of warmth behind her, but then Antonio was given more room to take her and she fell directly into the pleasant, free feeling of his love.

His voice was a cadence of romance, his lilting words incoherent but still beautiful.  Beautiful enough to bring her close, and then his body did the rest as he tipped her over the edge and made her forget her own name, her life, her dreams.

His fingers tangled through her hair and she laid her head on his chest, panting out random words that she could neither grasp not make sense of.  All Audrey knew was that she felt good.  More than good: indestructible, infinite.  It was a feeling most people only get once in their lives, but for her it would happen multiple times in the course of one night.

France.  He was still watching, eyes still dark.  He watched Audrey raise herself off of Spain, watched as Antonio pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before easing himself off the bed.  He watched as she turned to him, her eyes dark and wide and passionate, her lips bruised and parted, her body spent but ready for more.  It wasn't the most ideal of moments, not exactly how he planned to take her.  In his dreams, he hadn't had to watch his best friends have their turn with her first; he hadn't had to sit out as his woman came undone from other hands that weren't his own.  And maybe it was foolish of him to think of Audrey as his woman, because she'd never once told him that she wanted to be his woman, or anyone's woman for that matter.  But he couldn't stop himself from wanting her all to himself.  He stood up and walked to the bed.

"I think she'd ready for you now, Francis~" Prussia cajoled from his place by the window, lazy and sated as he watched.  "We've helped you out, you see?"

France wanted to snarl at him, do anything to make him angry, but he couldn't, didn't have the time, because Audrey's hands were at his waist and she was dragging him close to her, and he was lost in her gaze.

She rose up to kiss him, gently at first.  He deepened the kiss almost immediately, eager to taste as much of her as possible.  The night hadn't gone as planned, not at all, but perhaps she would help to make it up.  Her fingers slid gently down his shoulders and dipped over his back.  The kiss dissolved slowly as she drew back and settled herself into the pillows.

France was slow to follow.  He wanted to admire Audrey was much as possible, he wanted to remember her and the way she looked tonight, the expressions she'd made, the sounds she'd whimpered.  So it took him a few long moments to crawl onto the mattress and to meet her halfway.

They kissed again, this time a little furiously.  Her tongue caressed his like a prayer, like a promise, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the delicious contact.  Her hands drifted over him and sunk down, down, down to where he was most sensitive.  His eyes flew back open when he felt her grasp him, and she sent him a dizzying smile that made him want to come right then and there.

"I never thought you'd be this hard for me," she whispered, in pleasure and in a little surprise, because it was true.  Before this night, she'd just been their lawyer, the one who got them out of trouble.  She'd never gotten in trouble with them before, and France, the one she selfishly admired the most, had never seemed terribly interested in getting her into more trouble.

His lips curved upwards into a deliciously sinful smirk.  He pushed her down onto the pillows and his fingers pushed against her, one hand fondling her perk breast and the other dipping lower to reach her clit.  She gasped a little as he touched her.

"I think you'd be surprised at how much I've wanted to do this to you, and how long I've struggled with the desire," he whispered back.  He'd never tell her just how long, not when she wasn't completely his.  He'd never tell her that he'd been pining after her ever since he'd met her.  At first it was purely sexual, purely the desire to see her react to him.  But it turned, as most things did, to a more innocent desire that had both shocked him and made him incessantly restless.

Audrey didn't ask, but he saw the interest in her eyes.  She wanted to know, wanted to question him further, but he wouldn't allow her to.  His fingers were replaced by his aching manhood and the thoughts immediately slipped from her mind as she stared down at their nearly connected bodies.

"I must take you now," he told her, and she saw the desperation in his eyes.  It was probably painful for him to be that erect, after all.  She spread her legs wider and curled them around his waist, silent in her approval, and he sighed out in relief.  A second later, he was pushing past the boundaries that kept them apart, and she was arching her back at the immediate pleasure of two bodies being one.

"Ohh…oh my - " her moan was cut off when he rocked suddenly into her, pinning her down on the mattress and taking her fervently.  He couldn't waste time being gentle like Antonio, but he wasn't as rough as Prussia.  Francis' roughness was different, his haste more passionate as he thrust into her again and again.

She pushed her hips toward him, trying to make him go deeper, and he chuckled at her movements.  "You are enjoying this, mon ange [5]."  It wasn't a question, because Francis could see just how much she was enjoying it.  She was practically purring for him, and each harried thrust revealed another desperate part of her that had him on the edge, always ready to bring her with him.

She moaned, keening for him as his thrusts turned harder and swifter.  They were hardly thrusts anymore, but rather ramming, bruising shifts of his body.  A small part of him, the primal part, wanted to claim her as utterly and as fully as he could. 

She grappled at his back and threw her head back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.  He was perfect, balanced with just the right amount of gentle love and desperate passion.  His emotions tore through her and she was glad, suddenly, that she had waited for him like this.  Because now he didn't have to contend with another man.  He was all hers and she was all his, and she could get lost in the wonder and fulfillment and bliss that he was so apt to give her.

"Francis…I'm…oh!  I'm coming-!"  He angled her hips and threw himself further into the bruising passion, hitting her so directly, so perfectly that Audrey thought she might have died and gone to heaven.  Her fingers clutched the messy sheets as she felt her orgasm crash through her.  In seconds, she would be gone, but before then she had something to prove to this man.

She lifted her lips to his neck and kissed it, nibbling a little and enjoying the responding moan that he gave her.  Her voice barely rose above the sounds of their love making, but it somehow reached him, she knew it.  She knew because his eyes widened and his thrusts turned into a new sort of wilderness, something straight from the tangled remnants of his heart.

"I wanted more of you, every single part of you."

Every single part, every single part that he hadn't already given her.  More than the physicality of their new found relationship, more than the physicality of the other two men who watched them with increasing passion.  Her words made him desperate, made him insightful. 

His dug deeply into her and watched as she threw herself back into the pillows and came for him, jerking her hips delightfully against his.  And his senses went into overdrive as he felt her seize against him, heard her moaning his name, saw her reach for him.  His end was abrupt but oh so satisfying, so wonderful, so perfect, that as he fell into her chest a panting mess, he nearly forgot that they were far from alone.

He leaned down to press an aching kiss to her cheek and then her lips, pretending for a moment that they were in his own bedroom, amidst his own mussed sheets while the sun sank slowly beneath the horizon.  But his dream was shattered by the voice of Gilbert as the Prussian stood, smirking, "Is our sweet little lawyer ready for some more awesomeness?"

Audrey giggled a little and looked at France.  There was emotion in her eyes; an emotion that was only for him, and it made his heart patter delightfully in his chest.  Her eyes told his this: the night would continue onwards, but the moments she would remember most of all were the ones spent quivering beneath him.  It made him grin, swoon, and desire her all at once.

"She's all yours," Francis said, his accent thicker than usual in the afterglow.  "I think I've prepared her enough for you."

Prussia curled his lip at France but didn't reply, and Audrey just laughed and left a lingering touch on Francis' arm as he drew away.  Her body felt cold without his warmth.

She sat up and groaned a little at the soreness that already seeped through her, "I need a small break, actually.  Pour me something a little stronger than champagne, would you?"  She didn't know who she was talking to -- any of the three men, she guessed -- but luckily Antonio was quick to give her a shot of what seemed to be brandy.  It was a drink she didn't often have, because she didn't like the hard taste of it, but Audrey downed it easily tonight and enjoyed the sting of it as it went down.

France disappeared into the closet and reappeared with a couple of bathrobes.  He tossed one to Prussia -- who spluttered in annoyance -- and one to Spain and gave the last to Audrey, who sent him a thankful look as she covered herself up.

The night was far from over, and Audrey was more than qualified to handle these three men.  But that didn't mean she didn't deserve a hiatus in between.  They'd completely missed the UN meeting, as well, but there was still a party to get ready for that Audrey had no intention of missing out on, too.

So as she leaned back into the pillows, feeling more luxurious and beautiful than she ever had in her entire life, Audrey decided that she might have to rethink her previous decision to keep her relationship with these men at a business level.  Or, she smiled, glancing at the Frenchman who was now searching for a robe of his own, just one of those men.  She closed her eyes, snuggled further into the pillows, and found herself very much liking that proposal.

Translations:

[1] mon fue: My fire

[2] Querida: Fire

[3] Verdammt: Damn it

[4] Spatzi: Little sparrow

[5] mon ange: My angel

~~~

A/N: Hope people like it and it wasn't too...foursome-y or awkward xD  Oh, and happy Saint Patrick's Day~  ^_^