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Sunday, March 17, 2013

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 adept 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, ma 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: Darling

[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~  ^_^

Friday, March 15, 2013

An Adult!Skull Lemon -- Hazardous


Character: Adult!Skull

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: One sequel, as promised~  If you want to read the prequel to this, it's titled 'Precarious' and can be found on my Miscellaneous page under Katekyo Hitman Reborn!


You very much enjoy bringing pleasure to people, because it makes them talk far better than pain, and information is the greatest blackmail in the world.  But you don’t intend on blackmailing Skull.  You are bringing pleasure to him only because you want to.  Because somewhere not so deep within you, you are tired of pleasing others, tired when Skull is not always with you.
Inside your room, it is dark.  There is only one lamp that illuminates the shadows, and it isn't entirely effective.  But it's enough.  It's enough to make Skull's mouth water as he stares at your form, completely bared to him.  It's enough to enjoy the shadows as they weave and caress over your skin.
He wants to reach out to you but doesn't know how.  There is something strangely tentative to the air tonight, something that could spill over at any moment and take him at surprised.  It is a delicious sort of secret, tangible but not completely visible, and Skull almost thinks he knows what it is.  Why else would you tell him that you were going to break apart the pain and the pleasure of your company tonight?
You turn to him in the dim, dim light.  Your eyes are wide with desire and that other something that Skull can almost name, almost respond to.  A second passes and he is suddenly overcome by the aching need to run his fingers through you hair, which is still pinned up into a corporate style.  He wants to do a great many things, in fact, and loosening your hair is only the first line of a very long, ancient song.
You read desire like it's a second language to you.  You can see it spin through Skull's body, see it build up in his gaze, see it make him tense in anticipation and wanton lust.  And you smile, because this part is always your favorite, the part just before physical contact is made, the part where you can see exactly what you've done to him without actually having to do much of anything. 
A heartbeat.  A breath.  A constrained thought.  And then the moment passes and the bridge is built that connects you, always always connects you to him.  And you rush forward to slid your hands up his bare chest and to lock them behind his neck and to kiss him.  And he rushes forward to hold your naked body against his naked body and to kiss you back just as fervently as he can manage.
There is a part of him, perhaps a very big part, that is afraid of what comes next.  He normally wouldn't be, normally wouldn't even care, because he is danger and danger has nothing to fear.  But tonight he is something else, too, and tonight is different anyhow.  Tonight, there will be no pain, and that is somehow more frightening than anything he'd ever experienced.  Because it means that by the time the night is over, something startlingly new will come between you and him, something that may just have something in common with the strange twang to the atmosphere.
You take the lead because it's what you do best, and its natural to you, and Skull doesn't mind.  You take the lead because you want to see him squirm and thrash and scream and whimper, not from pain but from intense, crippling pleasure.
Skull feels himself stepping back, but his bodily actions don't take root in his mind until the back of his knees have already touched the mattress.  And then he is falling, suddenly, and it is all he can do to remain in a sitting position as you tower above him.
You are a goddess.  There can be no other description of you, or of the way you hold yourself, and look at him, and touch him.  Your eyes stare directly into his and he cannot breath at the sight the emotion in them creates.  It is powerful, so powerful that Skull has to silently tell himself that it is alright to move.  He breathes.
Your hands smooth over his shoulders first.  It is an innocent touch, a curious touch, but it makes Skull shiver and has his skin erupting in goosebumps as your fingers gently ease by.  He breathes again, watching you tilt his head back.  The mattress depresses as your knee comes up to press between his legs.  Your lips close in on his, but you don't kiss him, only brush past in an aching, yearning, delicious imprint of what will be.  He doesn't breathe this time.
He wants to ask you one more time, if you really intend on splitting apart the pain and the pleasure.  But he already knows what your answer would be because this is entirely new, this sensation of touch, this anticipation.  It has never found its way into your previous lovemaking.  You have never looked so tender and so sweet than you do now, and so Skull refuses to shatter this image of brilliance for a stumbled question.  Instead, he slowly, slowly, slowly sinks down, first to his elbows, then to his back.  He closes his eyes.  He surrenders.
And it feels morbidly frightening, but also so, so enchanting.  Like the first taste of a spring morning, where you wake up to the birds chirping and the sun stretching soft, warm rays about the room.  Like the wild, nomadic feeling you get from standing at the top of a cliff and looking down, down at what could be considered many things: a fall, a death, a chance, a stroke of luck.
And you feel it too, except in a different way, from a different point of view.  Because you are that sun, the birds, the fall.  You are looking up from the bottom of the cliff, waiting, wondering, ready to be the stroke of luck.
You lean down slowly, because you have long before shed that sense of urgency.  You lean down softly and you press a gentle kiss to his lips, so bare and earnest that Skull doesn't have any choice but to re-open his eyes.  Because he wouldn't miss seeing the building emotion in your gaze for the entire world.
It is beautiful, the way you look at him, and it makes him feel in way he's never experienced.  It makes him dangerous and heady and innocent and na├»ve all at once.  It makes him yours.
The burning sensation of your bodies has convulsed, changed into something more, something brighter, something stronger.  You lean down and suddenly the urgency is back, swinging back and forth with a vengeance that makes it difficult to follow.  So you forge ahead and create a new path, a wanton one that follows nothing, nothing save for the desperate mixture of need and power and you and him.
He drags you down, rolls you around, presses you into the mattress as soon as he has taken his place above you.  And normally this wouldn't happen.  Normally you wouldn't allow him to dominate you, because you don't allow any man to, but tonight is different.  Skull is different.  You find yourself wanting him to overpower you, wanting him to put you in a place that no man has ever succeeded in doing before.
Your tunnel your fingers through his hair and sigh out blissfully as his lips burn against yours.  You can feel every bit of him pressed to every bit of you and it is delicious.  He is already so hard.  His length is pressing against your abdomen and it shakes you, drowns you, consumes you, rejuvenates you.
And then he looks at you, presses his forehead against yours, lines himself up, and you are shaking and drowning and being consumed in other ways, stronger ways.
He groans, dominating you but not overpowering you.  And that is the difference between your previous encounters and this one.  You see it in a moment of startling clarity that shocks you.  It shocks you but it pleases you at the same time, and you throw yourself into the passion that is running through your body.  You want to get lost in the adrenaline.  So you do.
Skull takes you down at path you've never tread before.  You allow him to, because it brings him pleasure, and he deserves to feel the intensity of it.  He buries his head against your neck and he breathes in and out, rolling his hips so deeply against yours that all you can do is clutch him and lay silent.
But silence is not always enough.  Skull lifts his head to look at you, and as he takes you he stares directly into your eyes, which make him feel so dangerous.  He kisses you, softly, barely touching his lips to yours.  He pushes your hair away from your forehead.  He breathes.
You kiss him back, stronger, but you don't have time to lower yourself back into the rivulets of bliss, because then he is asking you something.  Asking you to, "Stay with me?"
It takes you a few moments to clear your mind enough to understand his words, and then you have another bout of brilliant clarity and it makes you warm this time, not shocked.  Because in the subtext of his words, he is asking something else, something far more powerful.  So you answer him back in the only way you can, reaching up to kiss him almost, almost harshly, nearly roughly, edging on burning, uncontrollable, searing passion.  And in the rough, harried kiss you whisper words you've never said aloud, ever, ever, ever.  "I love you."
It is so sentimental, so strange for you.  But it instantly changes the entire way Skull makes love to you.  He is surprised, shocked, but his eyes are so warm that it isn't an uncomfortable surprise.  He looks at you with an emotion you can finally understand, and then he kisses you, and then he takes you down into a sort of pleasure that you've never before knew existed.
It is phenomenal.  "Skull!  I'm…I'm going to -- "  He grunts and rolls his hips faster into you, hitting you perfectly and deeply.  He feels himself coming undone as well.  He picks up his pace, and then he watches as you crumble and fall.  And then he falls, too, because the sight of you inspires him.
It is only later, when you are asleep and Skull has you curled up around him, the picture of innocence, that he realizes how true your words to him had been.  You managed to give him the pleasure without the pain, something that Skull has never had and has never really cared to have.  But that is only because he hadn't tasted it before now, hadn't experienced the pure, undiluted bliss of being one with you.  He vows that from this moment on, he will rip the pain and pleasure in half and bring you what you deserve, what you have always deserved.
Skull closes his eyes.  He has never felt so dangerous.  He has never felt so strong.  He breathes.

~~~

Friday, March 8, 2013

An Adult!Skull Lemon -- Precarious


Character: Adult!Skull

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: I'm experimenting with 2nd POV in the present tense at the moment.  I quite like not having to work with OC's specific personalities ^_^


You are attracted to danger.  It is an affliction you have always had, since the day you were brought into this world.  And it is the sort of attraction that stays with you indefinitely, molding to your personality and making you quite a precarious person to know.
Skull is the sort of danger that confuses you, yet sparks an inconsolable interest through you.  He is the embodiment of danger, the soul of it.  But he is struck down with a certain shyness whenever he is around you that doesn't make it seem that way.  And you see his danger levels deplete whenever he is around the other archobalenos.  It is like his sense of danger is only real when he is alone, not pretending to be someone more powerful than he is.
You watch the purple haired man from across the room.  You're sinking into a soft leather couch, stocking-ed legs crossed in an almost demure way.  But there is nothing demure about you, and that is obvious in the bright way your eyes shift over the room like it is your territory.
It is, to an extent.  That man is, anyway, whether he likes it or not.  But you have a feeling he likes being yours.  You can feel his appreciation in many ways, but it is mostly exhibited when close to a mattress.
You smirk lightly and he notices.  His eyes crinkle just slightly to show that he is smiling back, but he doesn't do anything to provoke you.  He wants to, but he knows that you'd rather just provoke him, instead, and he can't say that he'd mind.  You have ways of easing him into any situation.
You are alone with him for the first time all day.  The fire is sparkling merrily before you and it warms the entire room, but it isn't hot enough.  Not for you, not for the scorching desires that have been building up the atmosphere.
So you lean back and you hand drifts to the door, which is situated directly beside your couch and just close enough to touch.  The lock slides easily in place and you drag your hand back, allowing it to rest gingerly on your leg.  When you call out to him, your voice resembles that soft quality, but there is an ever-present tone of impatience, of want, of desire that makes Skull quiver and respond.  "Skull…come here."
You don't call him 'darling' or 'honey' or 'baby'.  He is neither and you refuse to sink to a level that would degrade him so.  He deserves respect, and you will give it to him.  He deserves much more than respect, and you will try to give him that as well.
He sinks into the couch beside you and watches you through lidded eyes as you roll into his lap.  Your passion has been working in overdrive since the moment he'd walked into the room, with a bloody lip and a sense of incurable danger.  You'll ask him where he got that bloody lip later, and why he seems so deliciously in control of himself.  But for now, all you can think about is how badly you want to press your lips against his rough ones and kiss him senseless.
He knows what you're thinking about.  He can see it in your eyes, in the way they flicker at his mouth and stare at the blood still drying along the edges.  He feels the tension in your body.  It is like radiation, like the pounding of blood through his veins, like the uncontrolled, blurred edge of pain and pleasure that you often bring to him.
He craves this edge.  He craves it with all he is and all he becomes when he's around you.  It makes him feel dangerous and wanted, like he's something of a God with all his power.  But always, always, always there is you behind that power, controlling each and every radiating, punctuated shot of relief and desperation and need.
He is something a puppet to you, or at least he thinks that.  Sometimes, in the darkness of the night when you are curled up around him, powerless and innocent and human, Skull wonders if he shouldn't try to wield some power as well.  But that craving always turns into something darker, more primal, and he is always left with simply the desire to see you at your best: when you are hovering above him with your dominatrix smirk and your painted red lips and you see-through lace negligee.
"Skull."  He turns to you, coming out of his inner thoughts and glancing at your body, which is still in it's former position.  His eyes linger on your legs, covered by the black silk that intrigues him so much.  When his gaze lifts far enough up to meet with yours, he notices that your eyes are amused.
Of course they are.  You're always amused when men get like this over you.  It is as though you can't get enough of their attention, as though you dress up without realizing just how much those legs could fatally charm a man, or just how much those lips silently scream 'passion' and 'danger' and 'sex'.  And when you finally do realize that your body is arousing to others, it always seems to surprise you, even though you've been over this countless times and already know, instinctually and otherwise, that red lips and stockings and black lace and negligee spell out 'sex' in big, bold letters.
You tip your head back and smile, not in amusement this time but in something else, something similar to endearment.  "Skull, you must know that I like you better than anyone else."
It is a broad sentence, but somehow sentimental.  Because Skull knows that you are often with other men and even other women.  Sometimes you aren't always 'with' them, but you enjoy knowing what people like and using it against them, and in your line of work, that is always useful.  So to hear you say this, Skull actually smiles.  It is as sentimental and honest as you get.  He knows he will never hear you say 'I love you', but that you like him better than anyone else is practically the same when it comes to you. 
"I like you because you're dangerous.  Do you know why I think that?" you wonder idly, except your voice isn't really idle.  You're never idle.  There's always something going on, always something shimmering beneath the surface of your skin.
Skull shrugs and stares at you.  He's never asked why you think he's dangerous before.  The question has surprisingly never crossed his mind, even though you seem to be the only one who thinks he's the least bit dangerous.
He watches you lean forward, legs slowly sliding over his lap until you are straddling him.  Your fingers gently but firmly tilt his chin up and you look directly into his eyes, no doubt seeing everything with your powerful gaze.
"You're dangerous…because you like the things that other people don't."
He stares.  You smile.  Your lips hover just above his skin and then you watch as he visibly struggles to resist you.  His resistance makes him dangerous, too.  But the other things that he likes, the things that aren't confined to the whips and the chains and the knife-play, those things are what makes him irresistible to you.
You tell him that, softly, in a voice so low that he can barely hear even though he's directly in front of you.  And then you kiss him, firmly, roughly, lovingly, with lips so red and so bold and so wanting that he cannot resist you, not this time.  Not even if he wanted to.
You work everywhere at once and it is blissful, beautiful.  You kiss and your hips grind his and your fingers slink beneath his shirt and he is so far gone in such a small amount of time that it amazes him, and you as well.
"You want me very badly tonight, don't you Skull?" you whisper to him, pulling away from the harsh kiss for a moment to watch him.  He swallows thickly but doesn't move to answer you.  Answering you would be like saying that you've won, a sentiment that Skull is not yet ready to disclose, even though you both know that you won this particular game the moment you locked the door and focused all your attention on him.
You hummed and pressed nibbled kisses along his jaw and chin and lower lip, making a disappointed noise that wasn't really disappointed, but rather excited, energetic, electrifying.  "I want you very badly as well.  I want you so badly that I'm aching something awful for you."  You kiss him again and this time, he responds.  Not with his voice but with the fierce desire in his lips, which scream out, 'God yes, I want you so badly, so badly.'
It is so true, so honest.  You can feel just how much he wants you and you won't admit how berserk it is making you feel.  Every little circle of your hips makes his manhood harder as it strains against his pants and you.  He is your favorite, because he is danger and resistance and gets so hard that it shocks you every time, even though you are already so familiar with him, so used to his body.
His body.  You want to melt against his skin, sink into the contours of his chest, taste the man that is really such a man even though the others don't always believe in him.  Your kisses turn brash, bolder, hard.  Your fingers press tight bruises to his skin and he groans at the pain and at the strange pleasure that accompanies it.  It is always pain and pleasure with you, always always always.  And he loves it, craves it, cannot get enough of those delicious bruises and masochistic thoughts.
"What should I do with you first?" you ask him, pulling away and making short work of his clothes.  The buttons of his shirt fall away so quickly that he is left to wonder if he was even wearing anything at all.  Your question rings through his mind like an avalanche, rocking back and forth as he tries and fails to grasp at it.  What should you do with him, what should you do with him, what should you do with him.
Your lips stretch into a smile that could almost be considered a smirk and you tilt your head a little, watching him.  Your manicured, rouge nails scratch down his chest.  His skin blossoms with the strange pain, red marks tailing the pressure.  God, he loves those nails, loves it when you use them on other parts of his anatomy, loves to feel the pain mixed with the stark, delicious, irresistible pleasure.
And he knows, then, exactly what he wants.  And you know it, too, because after all you did put the thought into his head.  So you pull away just a little and sink down down down toward the floor on legs that are so firm and angular they remind Skull of a spider, or a cat, or something else that is weirdly lovely in a grotesque, random way.  But you are not a spider, not yet.  You'll save your poison for later, stash your litheness away until you need it.  Right now, you are a puppet master and you're about to watch Skull dance for you.  And oh, what a dance it will be.
His pants come away at the touch of your practiced hands, so quickly that he can hardly draw a breath before he is naked before you.  His cock strains up, so hard that you wonder if maybe you missed something vital.  Because how can he be so turned on after only fifteen minutes?  But this is Skull, your favorite, and of course he is ready for you.  He is always ready for you because you are his favorite, too.
Your eyes snatch his and he breathes hard, his chest rising and falling heavily at the sudden exposure of his body.  He is always like this, every time.  So shy, so nervous at being bare.  But to you it is beautiful, natural, lovely, and you always spend just a little bit of time getting him into the situation before giving him what he really wants, subconsciously or not.
You kiss his leg, just above his knee.  Your hands rub soothing circles on the edges of his thighs.  He relaxes, just a little bit, but doesn't look away from you.  He can't look away, not when you are nestled between his legs, so close to his cock with lips so red and eyes so wide. 
Your fingers move to his manhood and he stops relaxing.  He is tense, suddenly, tense because it is the moment just before the plunge, just before the pain and pleasure and happiness and sadness.  Just before reality collides with fantasy.
But the moment is only the edge of a second, only the beginning of a breath, the exhale of a gasp, and then Skull allows himself to plunge into that pain and pleasure and happiness and sadness because he wants to so, so badly.
Your nails scrape down his cock.  Your tongue brushes over the red welts they leave.  Your are usually gentle with men.  They don't like the pressure, the pain, but Skull is different.  He likes what the others don't, and that makes him interesting, special, yours.
Your nails continue to play for a while, but are soon replaced by your mouth.  Skull watches with thankful bliss as those red lips put themselves to work.  But this isn't gentle, either.  This is teeth and more pain, more pain that is almost pleasure, almost bliss.
He groans and tips his head back, body tense and straining against yours.  Your hands hold his hips down firmly but it doesn't stop him from trying to get more of you.  He can never have too much of this, and of you, and that knowledge always makes him both happy and sad, sort of bittersweet.  Because he doesn't want to take all of you.  There is always a piece of every person that remains their own, no matter how much another wishes to take it away.  And because he does want all of you, because human nature makes him selfish and jealous of the other men and women who also hold pieces of you.  Bittersweet, like chocolate, like happy and sad, like a piano that had just a few keys broken -- just a few, but enough to sour a melody that could have been beautiful, could have been complete.
You are his in a way that can't possibly be understood.  You don't understand it and Skull doesn't understand it and nobody else does, either.  But it's true, it's truer than anything you've ever experienced.  You are his when the darkness overtakes the light and when you are in bed, alone or not, and when you breathe in and out slowly and wait for sleep to take you.  You are his when the morning breaks free and when you wake up in arms that don't belong to Skull.  You know you are his because each and every time you look into a face that isn't his, and pleasure a body that isn't his, you wish it was. 
"Mmm…Skull," you draw away, looking into his face, his face that is tense and pained and pleasured and wanting.  Your hands rub comfort into his legs.  You bit your lip.  Finally, you murmur, "Skull, come to bed with me.  I've decided I want you without the pain tonight.  Just the pleasure."
He stops breathing.  Stops blinking.  Just stares.  You've never said that before, ever.  You've taken him so many times, pleasured him so many times, but you've never told him you want to split the pain and pleasure and break them apart.  He isn't really sure what to say, or think.  He only knows that this situation is different and special, and he'd be a fool to turn you away.  And why would he do that anyway?  Turning you away would be like turning away the sun, the world, the galaxy, his heart.
"Just…just the pleasure?" he asks, voice soft and unsure.  He's never had just the pleasure before.  It's always, always mixed with just a little bit of pain.  He likes it like that, likes to see you work your magic on his body.  But he wonders what pure pleasure would feel like coming from you and your red lips and your black negligee.  He finds himself very much wanting to know.
You smile and slowly stand.  You are slipping out of your lacy robe before he can take another breath and then you are bare before him, bare in a way you've never been before.  He's seen you naked in the past, of course, but now is different.  Now, you are revealing a piece of you that no one has ever seen, ever felt, ever tasted. 
"Just the pleasure," you confirm.  Then you take his hand and help him up and lead him through the door into the private bedroom that you call your own.
And Skull is tense, but it is not quite the same tenseness that he had before.  This tense is something sweeter, something different.  And different is tonight.  Different is you.  He wants different very, very badly.

~~~