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Surge	By : CyreliaJ Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1874 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 1-Surge
- 1
“Are you sure you’re okay with this, brother?” The words echo in his head as he crawls naked onto the bed. Germany always asks him that. Prussia laughs softly. That’s so like you, West. He looks down at Austria laid out on the bed pretty as a picture knees pulled up to his chest, legs spread. Am I okay with this?... Austria stares back at him coldly. Am I okay with... Austria hates him. Okay with... Austria has always hated him. Prussia places his hands on Austria’s knees. He’s learned not to be sick when Austria recoils back from him. Austria immediately grabs his wrists, nails digging sharply into the sensitive nerves he looks up at Prussia with anger masked terror.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to touch me?”
“Hey, four eyes, this shit ain’t gonna work without me or did you forget that? You don’t have a goddamn thing that I want so don’t go flattering yourself. ” So why don’t you fucking look at him already and stop staring at me like I’m a fucking rapist cause if you’re bitching now you sure as shit ain’t gonna like it when I throw up all over that girly face of yours.
Germany kneels behind him, warm at his back close enough to nearly be melded in body with him. Austria looks up and past him eyes settling on Germany. The softness of his expression makes Prussia want to take those fucking hands and smash them against the iron headboard until they break. He’s certain that Germany can feel the tension of his body. Prussia feels Germany’s forehead pillowed against the back of his own head. He can feel more than hear the pitiful whisper that thanks him. Just like the first stupid fucking question he doesn’t answer him. Austria’s hands turn back over and lightly run up his forearms. Prussia shivers and even he doesn’t know if it’s in revulsion or pleasure. He knows that as Austria looks past him to Germany that he likely won’t speak to him or look at him the rest of the night.
“Just tell me when you want me to...” Prussia isn’t sure who speaks- him or Germany- but his lips move to mouth the words nonetheless. Germany’s arms rest over his own like a second skin, mirroring every movement perfectly. Prussia reaches out to touch Austria’s face, staring intently at his own hand. It shakes. Austria reaches up to take that hand. His fingers pass through Germany’s like a ghost. But they curl around nonetheless and he can imagine from hundreds of overlapping memories the expression of sickening fucking worship as Austria will look up to Germany and breathe out like a blasphemous prayer...
“Ludwig...” Christ can’t you ever... Austria squeezes his hand and rubs the back to his face, Germany’s arm twining around his like poison ivy passing through every bit of Austria that he touches. “I miss you, Ludwig.” You can’t ever say anything else you stupid fucking... “I miss you so badly.” He’s not dead you stupid cunt. Prussia allows Austria to manipulate his hand- both their hands to gently kiss the back. He bows his head staring hard at the cross lazily looped around Austria’s white neck.
“I’m here,” he whispers back in tandem with Germany his voice just as thick. Prussia swallows down bile. He’s going to have to kiss him again. He knows that without having to look at either of them. Prussia absently licks his teeth feeling Austria’s hand move to his neck with a gentleness that feel’s like a virgin’s hesitance. That hand urges his head downwards and Prussia sighs just as Germany does. Germany once told him those touches made him feel like being worshipped like a god. Prussia has to look up to make sure that his head turns just right- that his mouth mirrors Germany’s habit in the same manner. He sees Austria looking at Germany with eyes like a bunch of poetic shit that makes him remember how much he fucking hates Austria. This oughta be you. This oughta be every last one of you fucking assholes kneeling here not me. Austria’s other hand finger traces up his bicep, once more slipping through Germany like a ghost to tingle like spiders crawling up his arm.
As Prussia allows the guiding hand to bring his head down he’s careful not to let the rest of them touch more than necessary. It took him two hundred forty four hours, three minutes to learn how to kiss exactly like Germany. Prussia feels the sigh of Austria’s breath and lets his eyes fixate on any number of points on Austria’s fair hateful little sissy face. Austria’s lips are soft when they meet his. He’s careful to keep kisses feather light, to keep that uncertainty so that Austria can lap softly at his lower lip. He feels the bile rise in his throat trying to claw its way out and he tamps it back down feeling Germany breathing harder against his back, that breath pressed to his shoulder. Germany feels too hot but Prussia ignores the nausea to coax Austria’s parted lips to open wider for him. He tastes beeswax and strawberry jam. Prussia hates fucking strawberries.
“Ludwig,” is sighed against his mouth and Austria’s hand clutches his tighter. Prussia’s kept his eyes open this entire time even as Austria’s face is nothing but a hyper magnified blend of darkness. He keeps his eyes open knowing that Austria’s are shut in a beautiful dream that he doesn’t fucking deserve. Prussia deepens the kiss tasting Austria’s tongue against his only moaning when Germany does. He feels a subtle wanting tilt of Austria’s hips, feels Austria’s cock blooming into hardness against his. Austria’s thigh slides along his hip. Austria’s toes curl against Germany behind him but again slip through like quicksilver. Prussia feels then Germany too, erect in response, and he wonders how in the hell his brother can get so hard so fucking fast when he can’t even feel the little bitch. Prussia groans again feeling Germany’s mouth moving against his shoulder in a careful mimicry of everything that he wishes Prussia to perform.
Prussia opens his mouth wider half breathing into Austria feeling fingers digging into his bicep harder. He feel that soft- that too soft thigh squeeze him again, feels that leg curl and toes slide down through Germany hitting nothing but his own ass. The dual sensation of Germany’s dick against his ass crack and Austria’s foot almost make him scream and just run the hell out of there and... “And I’ll understand if you say no.” Prussia groans softly, pitching his voice as close o Germany’s tone as he can manage carefully rocking against Austria feeling his stupid fucking cock start to get hard when he does. Fuck you fuck you if I could cut you off you stupid fucking thing why the hell can’t you stay the fuck down so I can tell them to- Austria releases his hand and threads fingers in his hair like fucking ants crawling through every lock. He shivers in spite of himself and barely stops from pulling back and slapping those hands away, holding them down and... And shut the fuck up and never think of that ever again.
Prussia feels Austria breathing back into him with warmth and longing and he counts to ten until Germany moves his mouth back off Prussia’s skin and Prussia knows that he too can stop. He slowly raises his head, slow enough to Let Austria open his eyes slowly and refocus on Germany and not have to look at him and remember the “red eyed devil” that’s about to fuck him.
“Forgive me but I need you now.” Prussia’s mouth moves the words again and it’s such a stupid sissy thing to say he nearly laughs. He doesn’t laugh. If he laughs he won’t be able to stop this time. Prussia lowers his arms and waits. He waits for Austria to wrap arms around him and somehow he thinks in this moment with the look between Austria and Germany there’s some unspoken nonsense passing between the two of them but he doesn’t fucking care. I don’t know what the hell it is about you...
Prussia takes this moment to study Austria’s face with more unabashed staring than he’s ever allowed normally. Austria stares at Germany just... breathing. Anschluss, huh? All this... fucking shit... fucking treaty... fucking gypsy magic horseshit... He thinks in moments like this that the two of them could lay there and breath with each other forever. Prussia hates that his own bio rhythms have become so miserably interlocked with theirs. Jesus fucking christ, get on with it already before I lose my hard on ‘cause I don’t know how much longer I can do this already. Prussia swallows hard as Austria’s other leg rubs against him, the balls of that foot rubbing the sheets like a four eyed fucking cricket. Austria’s hands are both on his face. Austria’s eyes are only on Germany. Austria’s hands are too soft like they’ve always been. Prussia studies that ageless porcelain face as Austria rubs against him like it’s his dick that he actually wants and not-
If I was the one fucking you, we sure as shit wouldn’t be doing this prince and princess dance on the bed. We wouldn’t have all these stupid looks and mooning cow eyes. You know what I’d do to you, Roderich? I'd take those thighs of yours and force them to the limits. I’d force them as wide as they go and I’d shove it into you so fucking hard you screamed. I wouldn’t let you piss and moan about going slow, I’d fuck you so good and hard it’d be my goddamn name you’d be moaning in your sleep and not his. I’d be the one you’d be screaming for. It’d be nails down the back, it’d be blood and heat and a shitload better than this. I’d have you on your fucking knees on that wooden floor til they scraped raw and you splintered those manicured nails against the finish. I’d bruise those hips and I’d come in you so good and deep... Prussia thinks, as his cock swells harder and heavier against Austria’s slow stupid undulating that after this he’s gonna get good and drunk and become a fucking monk so he never has to fuck another thing in his miserable life.
Austria’s thumb flicks over his lip bringing his attention back and Prussia wonders what the hell he’s thinking because he sure as shit doesn’t want to kiss him again as long as he lives. Prussia kisses him again deeply, softly, murmuring against his lips as Germany does to his neck “I want to be inside you,” as he reaches for the small bottle of oil laid on the bed earlier.
“Please, Ludwig... Please...” Austria’s hands move away from his face and he wonders if his skin won’t melt off one of these days like a horror movie. Austria’s arms are around him too close, Germany’s chest and Austria’s hands both on his back one never meeting the other and he tells himself not to choke.
Prussia can feel the sweat of Austria’s thigh still flush to his side and he continues to watches Austria’s face knowing that he won’t be looked at again until this is over. He passes the bottle back to Germany once he’s finished with it and braces himself, stroking his cock like a metronome in time with the tick of the cuckoo clock above the bed to keep it hard enough. He breathes in. He takes the biggest fucking breath he’s eve taken in his life watching Austria watching Germany, watching that cross on his pale chest ride and fall, watch that throat that would be so easy to wrap his hands around and- And he breathes out just as slowly and carefully as Germany enters him. He makes no other sound no matter how much it hurts, no matter how tense his body is. He’ll heal He’ll adjust. He’ll let himself bleed out for his brother forever and he just prays... Prussia just fucking prays that Austria really won’t look at him until this is all over because if there’s one thing worse than everything else it’s-
“Ludwig..." What are you a fucking parrot that you can’t say anything else but his stupid name? Prussia feels Germany push at him with a slight urging and no matter how slow, how careful how fucking solicitous Germany it hurts. The only consolation is Austria’s letting go of him for just that moment of unconscious consideration. “I’m sorry, brother.” Yeah shove your fucking sorries up your ass alongside your dick and get it the fuck over with, West. Prussia closes his mouth into a hard line and allows nothing more than the grunt that Germany himself would give when easing into Austria with the same tempo. Except you fucking love it don’t you. You used to come when he’d barely even stick you, didn’t you. You used to walk into his room at night and take his prick between those hands of yours and stroke it til it was good and hard enough to slide back onto. You fucking proper little bitch I know damn well that you-
“Ha.... ah.... ah....” Austria’s head falls back to the pillow, his throat taut, bared for him and if it were anyone else beneath him he’d run teeth over that submission and mark him. Prussia watches him arch and push back and he thrusts again when Germany moves into him with a deep sigh, interlocking his hands with Austria as they reach for his, Germany’s once more interlaced over them and he think he must be the only motherfucking one in the room who thinks it feels like a god rotting thousand degrees.
Prussia moves his hips, mirroring Germany as he watches the clock on the wall letting Austria twist and writhe every bit of emotion or what the fuck ever out of his encounter. He hears Germany groaning Austria’s name and he forces his attention back to the sweat plastered face beneath his that darts between them both with hazy eyes. What are you doing? Don’t you fucking look at me what the hell are you doing looking at me?! Prussia lets go of his hands in horrified instinct Austria shutter blinking in near recognition before throwing himself onto Prussia half screaming half crying which is at the very least a lot more familiar. Prussia is almost crushed between them, fucking, being fucked, being ridden, rode, held onto like the last damn thing in the world as Austria and Germany grab and reach for each other passing through like tormented spirits every time both their face passing by his as if he isn’t even there.
Germany pushes harder at last, as always, Austria falling back, Prussia falling like a dead body on top of him, Germany on them both nearly suffocating him while Germany fucks him harder, his own body transmitting the same like a tin can on a string making a pitiful mimicry of real human contact. Their cries drown out his, their hands are on him as if he has the magic to conduct every electrical impulse, his hands somewhere on the bed on the other side of Austria. Prussia doesn’t know why his fingers curl into the sheets as Germany and Austria near their completion. He doesn’t know why his knees haven’t given out yet, why he’s still alive, why the damn clock seems to be moving so slowly but most of all- as the sweat drips down his face and onto Austria’s neck- he wonders why the hell his fucking eyeballs are sweating.
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