Tuesday, October 1, 2013

A Switzerland Lemon -- Steel




Character: Switzerland

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: Grace Morhinweg, stoic, Represents Bern

Inspiration: Eh this is embarrassing but Hogan's Heroes was actually my main source of inspiration here.  Lol.


The pale, infant sun of early morning was unfortunately not what awoke Grace Morhinweg from her slumber.  No, she was blessed with other ways of stumbling into coherency.  Like the loud, ringing, whining bell that scratched its way over the entirety of the camp.  Like the creaking of wooden cots as soldiers rolled over onto the floor, scrambling with a sort of blank mind, pulling on clothes and rushing to shave, lacing up boots, strapping on belts, buttoning up green uniforms.  Grace was one of the slower ones, one of the few women who was brave and uncaring enough to sign up for the life of a soldier.  And someone who had a kind of special privilege that made her stand out from the masses of green.  She wasn't a country, but she did have historical significance to Switzerland.  She was Bern.  His capitol.
And what a stubborn, stoic, lazy capitol she was.  She infuriated Vash most days.  She was everything he wasn't and then some, and she liked for him to know it.
At 7:15 the soldiers marched outside, row upon row of stern expressions, pounded out frowns, forced dead stares.  Switzerland walked toward them with a similar expression on his face, his green eyes hard as they swept over the lines of his men.  And then landed on one who wasn't a man at all, and who looked completely out of uniform.  He ground his teeth and spun around toward her, changing his course in a split second.  She hadn't been awake for more than ten minutes and she was still managing to make him furious. 
"Soldier," he ground out, careening forward into her personal space.  She didn't back away, but then he wouldn't have expected her to.  She merely blinked up at him through sleepy, yet highly intellectual eyes.  They had a mini staring contest in which neither won, and then Vash sighed out, feeling a little bit resigned.  He jerked his hands over the top buttons of her uniform, straightening them, redoing them.  And as he did, he muttered, "Why do you always do this to me?"
It was a rhetorical question and he didn't expect a response.  But he got one anyway.  Grace gave him one of her sly smirks and murmured back, low enough for only his ears, "Cause you're cute when you're mad, Vash~"  And she leaned forward the tiniest bit, barely enough to make a difference and yet it did.  Because where before Vash's fingers were barely touching her shirt, now his hands were pushing up against her breasts.  He spluttered and drew back, face reddening as he looked into her eyes, now slanted into a mischievous brown. 
Then his face darkened into the expression Grace loved best, that annoyed one, the one that promised punishment.  And he shot her a glowering, withering look that was accompanied by the sweetest words she would ever hear, and ones she looked forward to each time she heard them, which happened to be quite frequently. 
"Come into my office after morning inspection, soldier." 
Then her general was sauntering away, eyes slicing through the rows of mindless uniforms.  And he didn't even notice the victorious smirk that painted Grace's lips as soon as his back was turned. 


The morning sun was just beginning to turn hotter as it arched into afternoon.  The camp had turned into a sprawling, noisy training grounds as the soldiers began their daily exercises.  Grace would normally be among them, slaving away in the forced labor driven into her by her superior.  But today said superior seemed to have other plans for her, plans which she was all too happy to participate in.
She meandered into his office without knocking, her face masked into an expression of boredom.  Her rudeness didn't seem to surprise Vash, who was sitting behind his desk, arms crossed as he leaned back.  He had seen it all when it came to her.  She'd been a part of him for so long that he was hardly shocked at the nature in which she held herself up.  She was refined and yet so, so exasperating.  And Vash would never, ever, ever admit at how he liked her personality.  Liked the way she could fool people into thinking she was innocent and childlike, and then turn impish before their very eyes.
"You're late," he told her, narrowing his eyes on her as he watched her close the door.  She shrugged, unconcerned, and collapsed into the chair in front of his desk. 
"Oh come on," she said, lips twisting into a sweet smile that, in actuality, was anything but innocent.  "I'm not that late."  She leaned forward, elbows dragging over the papers that were strewn haphazardly across mahogany.  Her eyes drilled into his and he hardened his expression, not falling for the supposedly relaxed atmosphere she was trying to cultivate.
He raised an eyebrow.  "Two hours is pretty late," he said, and watched her expression filter out the pleasant surprise she felt at his exact notice.  He pushed down the very sudden desire to grab her by the shoulders and roughly pin her down, but he was sure his wishes were shown fiercely in his green eyes because she smirked.  She could read him like a book and though it usually annoyed him, Vash felt almost pleased that she was clearly following him now.  It would make things that much easier.
"Should I even bother asking what you were doing?" he wondered idly, his voice casual even though his body was tense.  He watched her like a predator would watch his prey, and she felt delicious shivers roll up and down her body as a result.  When he was like this, beginning to delve into the rougher side of himself, she couldn't help but push him farther.  So Grace smirked wider and purred, "One of the men needed help."  She emphasized the last word and watched the effect it had on Vash's face.  She was being completely truthful, just not completely truthful.  She liked to watch him jump to conclusions that didn't actually happen, liked to see his jealousy pervade through the entirety of him.
"Help?" he questioned, and his eyes, the way they careened into hers, made her desire spark and enslave her like nothing else could.  It was always the fire that started it.  The burning fire that slashed through the forest of his eyes and made her crazy, furiously crazy with the need to feel it over her skin.  He leaned forward and his eyes pinned her to her seat, the force of them making her lose all desire to run.  She wanted him to consume her.  She wanted him to love her, to show her that he owned her, to dominate her.  She would allow no other man that pleasure.
Grace leaned back.  Her eyes twinkled into his and he knew, instinctively or otherwise, that he would not be getting much work done today.  Theirs was a relationship that Vash could neither explain nor understand, but it fit their lives so well that understanding it was useless anyway.  His expression darkened into familiar slivers of jolting, displaced emotion.  He watched as her hands moved to the buttons of her shirt, which he had previously redone.  One came undone.  Then another.  All the while under the harsh, commanding scrutiny of his eyes.
She knew he liked it, watching her.  She knew because she could see the slight pleasure in his eyes, which swirled with the beginning traces of lust.  She knew because he was sitting very still, very tense, as though he were overcome by such a fierce desire that to move would be to disrupt it.  She knew because she knew him, very well.  Knew what made him tick, what made him curl with desire, what made him moan and whisper her name and come.
He sat behind his desk with his fingers knitted together, staring, watching as the top of her uniform slid down her shoulders and revealed her lacy bra.  The sight of that black, mischievous fabric broke him, and his eyes flashed dangerously.  He growled, "The door.  Lock the door," in a voice so full of lust that it was strained and gravelly.
Grace stood, but she didn't go to the door.  She merely raised an eyebrow and swept her eyes over the room.  Then she turned back to him and said, "Are you really gonna fuck me on your desk?  That's not very romantic, Vash."  She watched his eyes explode with impatience, and was excited when he pushed it down and said in a too-casual voice, "I've never been romantic.  Now go lock the door."
For a moment, Grace didn't move.  Then she smirked and walked around the desk, bypassing the door entirely.  When she got to his chair, she reached forward to turn it, swiveling him around to face her.  Then she nestled herself between her legs.  "I already locked the door when I came in," she said when he opened his mouth, no doubt to order her around again.  She raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled a little at the pleased flash of his eyes.  Her laughter was silenced, however, when his hands curled around his waist and he dragged her closer, close enough to feel the bulge of his pants press against her legs.
"Good girl," he muttered, watching another shiver cascade through her body.  His fingers tickled over her sides and he turned his attention to her pants, unzipping them and tugging them off her hips.  They hit the floor and were kicked aside, forgotten.  Then he slid his hands over her bare skin, touching that mischievous black lace as it trembled over her core.
His thumb brushed over the heat that was pooling in her panties, circling her clit in the slowest, most delicious way he could manage.  She spread her legs farther to accommodate him and Vash felt a flourish of desire shoot him straight in the heart.  Then he ordered, low and firm, "Take your bra off."  To which she purred back, "Yes sir~" with a loud smirk.
He rolled his fingers faster against her as a sort of punishment for talking back and she bit her lip, drowning against him.  It was with a shaky silence that Grace reached up and unclipped her bra.  The black lace fell away from her skin a moment later, and Vash drew his free hand up her side to touch her breasts, caressing her with a gentleness that he didn't often show.
It was that gentle touch which would become a poison for her, rooted so deeply within her veins that to be rid of it would mean death itself.  He was more than just her sovereign country, more even than a man she was often with.  Though Grace would be loath to admit it, Vash was someone dear to her.  Someone close to her cold, cold heart.
"I want you," she moaned, tilting her head back and purring when his fingers jerked against her faster.  They were just three little words with an insignificant meaning, and yet they had Vash panting, careening forward, pressing his forehead against her stomach and his mouth against her smooth skin.  Closing his eyes and soaking up the meaning of her moan, the way she always seemed to gravitate towards him, the way she always seemed to love him even though she tried to hid it.  He breathed out slowly and, unable to maintain his startlingly uncontrollable passion, began tugging her panties down her curved hips.  When they were on the floor, kicked aside.  When her fingers were tangled into his blond hair, when he had pulled her closer, arms circling her small waist, Vash kissed down. 
And she lost it, her chest heaving with a moan that made his body burn with arousal.  She whimpered and subconsciously rocked her hips forward, only to have Vash tighten his grip around her waist and hold her in place.  He dipped his head with a gracefulness that strangely suited him, tongue flickering out to alternately circle her clit then thrust into her wet core.  He couldn't deny that he tasted her with a hunger he was struggling with all morning.  That he had wanted to run his tongue over her arousal and know just how badly she wanted him.  And to do it now, to have her bend herself entirely to his will, it made him warm with more than just physical desire.
"Vash…" she whispered, and he nearly lost it then.  He was so hard that his entire body ached with a fierce need, and he longed to bury himself deeply within her.  And she knew it, knew it very much when he rose his eyes to hers and allowed her to see into the midst of his passion.  And it didn't help that there was a large bulge in his pants.
She didn't giggle, or tease him like he thought she might do.  No, those times were long past them.  There was nothing, nothing at all that Grace wanted more in that moment than to have him inside her.  Teasing could come later, when the burn of this delirious arousal had been sated.  So instead, Grace shifted backwards, easing herself onto his desk and leaning back.  She blinked at him with wide, dilated eyes, and Vash knew what sort of thing she was not so subtly hinting at.  He stood, aware that he was still wearing all his clothes, and began undoing his shirt.
She helped, to an extent.  She curled her legs around his waist and dragged him closer, close enough to kiss him.  And when their lips were moving at a haphazard, intense pace, her fingers began to undo as many buttons as she could get her hands on.  Then she was sliding the fabric of his uniform off his shoulders and kissing his harder, wilder, as her hands moved to his pants.
She cupped him for a moment, slipping her hand over the rough fabric and delighting in the sound of the beginnings of a moan sliding past his parted lips.  But she didn't linger long, and had other, grander plans for the near future.  So Grace tugged at his pants with a vengeance, pulling them off his hips and then doing the same with his boxer briefs.  And the sight he made, nude, hovering between her legs, breathless, flushed…it made her crazy.
They stared at each other for a second, watching, studying their individual desires and wishes and needs.  And then Vash slid his hands over her smooth legs, dragging her closer to the edge of the desk, and he leaned forward to kiss her again.  And as his lips were caressing hers, he pushed his hard length inside of her and watched her body break and shudder from the intense feeling of being so roughly loved.
"Nnng!" she moaned, throwing her head back as Vash pulled out and shakily thrust back in.  Their movements were erratic at best, awkward because of the strange standing-sitting position they were in, but somehow even more delicious as a result of it.  She curled her legs tighter around his slim waist and, with every bruising thrust of his hips, she pulled him ever closer.
His hands swept around her bum and he heaved her up, pulling her even closer to the edge of the desk.  His eyes were like rockets, a dazzling, angry green that left her astounded and weak.  If she could, she would bury herself in the depths of them.  He made her feel alive just by looking at her.
He groaned into her ear, the tiniest, lowest, most desperate noise Grace had ever heard.  He buried his face into her hair and gritted his teeth and Vash couldn't help it.  He muttered something about it 'not being enough', and drew back, leaving her utterly cold as he pulled himself out of her.  She opened her eyes to look at him with a confused, annoyed gaze, but she wasn't disappointed for too long.  He growled out a harsh, "Get over here, woman."  And then he watched her shiver, ease herself from the desk, and approach him slowly.
The reason for her hesitance was because of one thing: the sight he made.  He looked ridiculously sexy, sitting like that.  He was leaning back, one hand hovering by his chin as he glared at her.  His legs were spread wide open and his cock was curled into such an arousal that the sight of it made Grace more than just a little breathless. 
But she soon realized that the sight of him wouldn't be enough.  Just watching him drill his lustful eyes into hers wouldn't bring her to completion.  She had to feel him.  Feel his hands gripping her skin and pulling her down, down into the abyss of his lust, which was never-ending and never fulfilled.  Feel his breath waver over her skin, feel the heat of him radiate into her, and the force of his love careen against her like the tempest she knew it could be.
She went to him, nestled between the wide space of his legs, brushed her fingers over his thigh and felt the muscles beneath his skin contract.  She raised her eyes to his and for a moment, they just stared at each other.  But then she moved her eyes back down, not being able to help herself as she examined him.  And he watched every move she made, like a predator, like a blind man seeing the world for the very first time.  The lights, the cascade of color, the sun which made a person feel so small and yet so big, powerful, ready.  And then Vash reached out his hand and touched her arm, eyes seeking hers again as he silently pulled her closer.  Close enough to kiss.
Their lips dispelled the lust from the atmosphere.  It was changed, it altered, pursued a more natural, sweeter path.  He leaned forward and his hands curled around her, dipping against her waist and then down, to her hips where they stayed.  They breathed life into their kiss, feeling it reach parts of them that before could not be found.  And when the slow caress of their mouths dashed up against the barriers of other, intense emotions, they pulled away.
She clamored into his lap, fitting perfectly against him, rocking her core against him for a moment and then taking him back inside of her.  And when he was fully sheathed in her heat, they both released a sort of relieved sigh and fell back into the furious pace of before.  Except this time it was different, slow and yet fast, needy and yet arrogant, detached but knitted fiercely together. 
Grace threaded her fingers into Vash's blond hair and jerked his head back, pressing her mouth against his and kissing him.  He groaned a little against her needy mouth, hands slipped around her butt and dragging her harshly up and down.  Even though she was on top of him, straddling him, Vash was in control.  And he made her know this with every downward thrust of her hips as he forced her to take him deeper, faster.  And she loved it, loved being dominated by him, and only him.  Couldn't get enough of the way he inflicted more than just his lust into the entirety of her body.
She knew she was about to come when she heard him groan against, the vibrations of his wispy moan flittering over the skin of her neck.  She opened her eyes and took him in and felt the coil of her orgasm snap, pushing her toward the edge of the inexplicable.  "V-Vash!  Vash, mmnng…" she buried her head against his hair and rocked her hips faster, not getting enough of the way he slid against the silkiness of her core.  It was delicious and she couldn't stop herself from coming hard and fast on his cock. 
He groaned, head thrown back as he felt her muscles contracting around his cock.  The feel of her orgasm around him, the sight she made as she came, her expression and her eyes and her voice, which whimpered out his name again and again and again…it made him follow her down into that deep abyss, down into the depths of what could only be described as dark, powerful, intense lust. 
He spilled himself inside her and pulled her hips faster, milking him for everything he was worth and more.  And then she collapsed on top of him, limbs circling him neck as she sighed out, spent and a mess.  But Vash wasn't done.
He nipped at her ear, tongue flicking over her sensitive skin and feeling a shiver wrack through the entirety of her.  Then he growled fiercely, lustfully, "I didn't say you could come."  And he pressed a firm kiss to the hollow beneath her ear, his hands drifting up to smooth over her back, trace her spine, tumble into her hair.  Touching her would never get old to him, not when she was gasping and naked and sprawled out over him as she was now.
But even in the midst of the fierce passion that still lingered through her body, Grace was stubborn.  She chuckled a little, voice breathless, and kissed his cheek, his jaw, and finally his mouth.  Her tongue traced over his and she murmured out a slow, drawling, "You never ordered me not to, general~"
He watched her through lazy green eyes that told her he was far from finished with her, and she smirked.  Then she rose up off of him, eyes flickering down over his body, and walked to the pants that had been thrown to the floor in the midst of their previous fit of lust.  He watched curiously as she tugged the belt from the loops, and then his curiosity faded into dark, amused desire when she smirked at him, eyebrow raised.
"But still," she shrugged, bare shoulders delicately rising.  She gripped both ends of the belt and then tugged it straight, admiring the slapping sound it made.  "I think maybe I need you to punish me, sir," she purred, slanting her eyes to him and watching the way his gaze flashed right back.
She smirked and stepped back, well aware of his eyes as they followed every movement closely.  Then she pulled open the door on the other end of the room, the one which led to his personal bedchambers, and she slipped inside.  Vash was not long in following.
And by the time the afternoon sun had crept into evening, and then disappeared entirely, the two lovers could be found tangled up within sheets and arms, the rest of the world only an imaginary, undefined realm.

~~~

3 comments:

  1. oh my fucking eye balls this is so fucking hot plz make more :P

    ReplyDelete
  2. Try to make a sequal~

    - The Little Kuundere

    ReplyDelete
  3. can you make a Switzerland baby daddy lemon please.

    ReplyDelete