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40C	By : CyreliaJ Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2002 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 1-40C
- 1
Note: Had this idea while reading about the hottest temp in Germany last year on July 6th. Now this takes place on the 5th which is Sunday for plot purposes. Now a warning, this is dirty, nasty, filthy, no frills fucking and some of it may be a bit base and er... visceral. This was mainly a PWP and an attempt at writing a sex scene that was explicit but not too long. This came about from reading some tumblr "Austria without his glasses thing" and I thought of the old "take of glasses and lose all sexual inhibitions" trope so hopefully I still kept him IC. This also gets way heavy on the geography and uses metric (so no miles or fahrenheit). Anyhoo, thanks everyone for reading, C&C is always welcome.

   Prussia's eyes lazily open when he feels Austria's foot connect with his side. He squints, the light coming through the south facing kitchen window hatefully shining through both curtains and blinds. He brings a hand up, sun still streaming between his fingers and he rolls over, naked back sticking unpleasantly to the hardwood floor. Without even having to look up he can feel Austria's disapproving glare leveled at him as he sits up just a touch too quickly seeing spots. He supposes it might be time to roll over to a different section of the floor anyway, his body heat having already warmed his current spot in record time. He hears a sigh as Austria walks around him, and clad himself in nothing but boxer shorts sticking from the humidity, Prussia is in awe of the stodgy layering of familiar clothing that greets his eyes.

   "Christ, it's gotta be almost forty degrees in here, are you fucking crazy?" Austria isn't wearing the long coat but he's still wearing a long sleeve shirt with a dark purple vest over top and certainly an undershirt beneath that.

"I'm aware of the temperature, Gilbert. I'm assuming that's why you're rolling around on the ground like a dog." He looks down imperiously as he sets a small stack of papers down on the kitchen table and yanks the chair out hard enough to hit Prussia in the side.

"Hey, watch it with that, would ya? Ya know, maybe if you'd pull the stick out of your ass and lose the ten layers you wouldn't be so hot and bitchy."

"Clearly its worked wonders for you." He takes a seat, ignoring Prussia as if he's somehow beneath notice. Prussia peels himself off the floor the remainder of the way and stands with a smirk.

   "Get a good look, didja?" Austria snorts.

"You'd look better fixing the compressor that you thoughtlessly broke. Didn't you say you were going to take care of it?” Yeah, trust Austria to remember a stupid little detail like that. It's not Prussia's fault that the damn store isn't open today.

"Hey, be glad I actually know how to fix it, your highness. You know how much an HVAC guy would gouge us for that shit. Why the hell are you here anyway? I know the air at your place works."

"The air at my place also costs money," Austria reminds him as he flips to a sheet and starts reading. "And it also costs money for the train back to Vienna and here again when I finish reviewing these reports."

   "Well would ya get a load of that, the little master's actually buckling down and doing something other than laying around in the music room." Prussia walks to the refrigerator, sneaking a glance over before opening the door, letting the air cool him for that wonderful moment of bliss. He thinks he hears Austria mumbling about Germany and some sort of ultimatum but with the cold air blowing in his face he really doesn't care.

"I thought you said after you finally left Ivan's that you were, and I quote, 'Never going to fucking complain about a little heat ever again.'" Austria's voice needles at him as he reaches out and grabs a cold beer. He lets goof the refrigerator door long enough to give Austria the finger and then slam it shut just as Austria opens his stupid mouth to complain about wasting electricity.

   "Isn't your thoughtless drinking how you drove the car into the compressor in the first place?" Prussia thinks, as he sits down across from Austria, that somehow the four eyed little twerp has mastered looking at him while feigning reading.

"I told ya I wasn't drinking. I was watching fucking Arthur drink himself sick while I had West in my head bitching about being a good designated driver. Designated, shit, I'd like him to try and drive straight in the dark with that crazy asshole tugging on the fucking steering wheel." Prussia remembers just as Austria looks over those spectacles at him that he forgot to get a bottle opener. The look makes him forget for a moment just how big of a dick Austria is. It's those eyes. It's gotta be those eyes and Germany's always telling him that he's got an ego the size of the Rhine but Prussia knows that look. It's not an Austria exclusive by any stretch; he's gotten enough play over the years to know that look ten minutes to some serious bathroom or backroom frottage. That's not to say that Austria doesn't wield it with some serious repressed monster bitch intensity but...

   But he cuts that line of thought off before wearing just boxers becomes a liability with the ice prince sitting across the table. Prussia wonders as he takes a moment to roll the cold bottle over the back of his neck if that's why Austria doesn't ever seem to be hot. He looks hot enough though, Prussia decides as he gets up to get the bottle opener before he gives into temptation and smacks those stupid glasses off his face in response to another one of those measured looks shot over the rims.

"What?" Prussia asks at last as his hand slips and he drops the stupid thing on the floor with a curse. He really has no fucking clue what keeps his brother hanging around this stuck up little pr-

"You seem to be settling in here," Austria observes drumming fingers on the wooden table top as if he's not the one who intruded on Prussia's private sweating his balls off on the kitchen floor time.

   "In case you hadn't noticed, little master, I was in here first. You can't bother West? His office is probably cooler than here."

"The basement certainly is,"Austria fires back looking annoyed.

“Yeah well the basement is also full of a snoring hungover Arthur who’s probably pissed, shat, and puked all over my bed by now.” Austria sighs as he shuffles a few more papers around.

“Tatort should be coming on soon. I’m sure Ludwig will want you to tape it.” He waves Prussia off, taking a look at the page in front of him intently. Prussia pops the lid off the beer and takes a long drink, the cold carbonation like an orgasm right about now. He smacks his lips lustily and sees Austria actually looking like he might succeed in ignoring him. Austria’s eyes skim the page, the pen, capped at the top tapping thoughtfully over his lower lip. Prussis leans back against the counter and takes another drink, feeling argumentative.

“Yeah in another five hours. And Tatort is overhyped shit anyway. It doesn’t hold a candle to Polizeiruf 110.”

“Polizeiruf 113,” Austria retorts making him bristle, the cap of that pen slipping between his lips just a bit. Prussia exhales loudly.

“Hey, does this look like fucking Austria to you?!” He slams the bottle down, the noise forcing Austria to look up at him. Disdain. There’s always disdain on that face, but again, it’s not a full proper lift of his head, not a full on glare but another one of those over the rim of glasses up and down stare. Prussia doesn’t let him answer as he stalks over angrily. “And why don’t you take those stupid things off already? It’s not like you need them to see.”

   His hand is quick, snatching them right off his face, that wide eyed looking just screaming how dare he and he looks down with a smirk.

“You-!” Austria goes to stand and Prussia pushes him right back down holding his hand out of reach as Austria tries pitifully to grab for them.

“Too bad, princess, look like you’re still too slow.” Prussia smirks, putting them on top of his own head with a snicker. “Not so high and mighty now, are we?”

“Give those back.” Austria swallows, looking ahead at the table for a moment before meeting his eyes again almost anxiously.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, little master. C’mon why don’t you-“

“You have no idea what you’re doing you obnoxious oaf!” Austria yells at him, violet eyes a swirling storm of anger, heat in that wretched weather and Prussia can’t deny the immense satisfaction of that look.

   “Beg me,” He drawls, taking a step back, noticing strangely, that Austria hasn’t made any move to follow him. He shrugs it off. Austria’s always been such a sulky shit loser.

“I beg your pardon?” Indignant, affronted, yeah it checks all the boxes. But as Prussia stands there watching him, setting the glasses back on the counter behind him for safekeeping, he notices that Austria’s hands are balled on his knees, some tension shifting in and out of his body as he breathes deeply.

“You heard me. You want ‘em back so bad why don’t you get on your hands and knees and tell me how awesome I am? Tell me you yield to the might of the mighty Prussian Empire and maybe, just maybe I’ll consider-“

“Is that what you want?” Austria’s voice is even softer, and Prussia sees his shoulders slump forward, all that tight bunching of muscles draining out of his body until those hands unclench. “You want me to beg you?” Austria continues focusing on that stack of papers even as that bizarre soliloquy continues. “You want me on my knees in front of you?” Prussia has no idea what the hell is going on but if it’s some stupid act to- “Would that excite you, Preußen?”

   That name. Oh that fucking name. Not Gilbert, not “dog”, not a million other denigrating terms that Austria’s sharp tongue has devised over the years but that name. That name in that tone in that voice carries a heat far greater than the muggy kitchen could ever dream.

“What did you just say, Roderich?” He watches uncertainly as Austria sits back and runs fingers through his hair, the tips of those long digits trailing over his neck as he tips his head back almost in a daze.

“I’m sure that I didn’t stutter.” Austria speaks the normal retort, but far from venomous and biting, there’s that faint undercurrent of something else entirely. Prussia thinks he has a damn good idea of what exactly that is when Austria turns his head slowly, hand caressing his own face, and if there was ever a doubt in Prussia’s mind that Austria was fixing him with some provocative ocular invitation, that doubt flies right out the fucking window like a mad cuckoo bird. It’s gotta be a mirage, Prussia thinks as Austria’s expression is thoughtful, fingers toying with his mouth, making Prussia realize just how damn full those lips are. What are you crazy? Christ, it’s one thing for the little bitch to shoot you those half glare half gimme faces all the time but this is a whole different level of mindfuck.

   “Or perhaps as I’ve always suspected you can’t handle it when someone calls your bluff.” Austria stands and Prussia can’t figure out when he managed to toe his socks off as bare feet that Austria would normally never dream of indulging in, step purposefully across the floor towards him. He almost takes a step back but realizes he’s already got the counter pressed to his ass as Austria stops, looking at him with a faintly inviting tilt of his head. Prussia can see the moisture then when he looks, when Austria is that close and he can smell even the fastidious Austria has that faint tang of sweat around him in this heat.

“Is that what this is about? You playing a fucking game with me?” Prussia swallows seeing the sweat sheen over Austria’s pale neck before it disappears down into that shirt.

“It’s a game you’re not man enough to play,” Austria fires back pressed against him, licking his lips like he wants to remind Prussia of every dark delirious thought he’s ever had of that mouth speaking sinful things, sucking, slurping, swallowing- Shit. Prussia swallows hard, having half forgotten to even breath. He hadn’t even realized how hard he was until he feels Austria’s hip, a teasing turn of his body, leaving Prussia to only guess if he’s just as turned on.

   “Christ, who are you and what the fuck have you done with Roderich?” He gasps, Austria’s hand deftly maneuvered between them, not wasting any time in palming, in rubbing the head of his cock through his boxers. He sucks in a hissing breath, catching that lusty stare as his hips rock, as his hands grip the wooden butcher block of the counter top and try to squeeze it down to splinters.

“Do you want me?...” Yes, fuck, yes. Prussia’s head tips back, his eyes blearily focused on counting ceiling cracks so he doesn’t blow his load picturing every implication of that deliberately drawn out whisper to his ear. “...on my knees in front of you, Preußen?” He’d swear Austria was screwing with him, if Austria’s voice too didn’t sound one good rutting sticky dry hump away from losing it himself.

“Shit...” is all he can manage when he feels Austria’s lips brush his jawline, when he feel’s Austria’s face turn, that beauty mark- Neusiedl am See- just barely passing over his skin. That brush draws a faint hitching whimper from Austria’s throat that sounds just so damn fuckable, Prussia really believes if he hulks out in one wild roar he’ll tear a chunk of that counter clear off.

   “Fuck,” he swears when he feels the rotation of that palm, when he feels his boxers sticking to his cock, not just from the heat, not just from 40C batwings from hell, but from his swollen slick cock head. “Yeah... fuck do it God you’re fucking killing me...” He smells Austria’s cologne mixed with sweat again, some orange patchouli musk shit that he wants to lick off Austria’s skin. He doesn’t dare move his hands from the counter, pretty sure if he does they’re going right to ripping clothes, right to grinding hips, right to a helluva lot of things that he’s damn sure gonna wait for. Cause Germany might give him a lot of shit about his impulse control in his semi retirement but he’s not about to blow whatever crazy heat stroke’s probably come over Austria with a fast fuck bent over the table.

“You have the soul of a poet,” Austria teases far more amused than castigating for once and Prussia can feel the wet spot on his boxers blossom out as Austria moves his hand and slips it beneath the elastic waistband to fully take hold of his shaft. Prussia nearly swallows his own tongue when Austria pants hard, as if the very act of holding his cock is getting him off, as he bows his head and whispers to Prussia’s shoulder. “Of course it’s not your fault... all the blood it must take it must take to...” Another gasp, Austria’s hips turning, still not meeting his flush, the sweat of his forehead mixing with Prussia’s. “I always knew it would be big.”

   “I always knew it would be...” Oh fuck, you did not just say... Austria did not just say that. He did not just add fuel to one of Prussia’s secret, sick, most shameful jack off fantasies. Prussia groans, not sure how much more he can restrain himself with Austria stroking him, thumb circling the head of his cock teasing the slit, teasing more sticky wet shame until he almost feels like between the sweat and wet that he’s fucking pissed himself.

“You little bitch,” Prussia hisses, hot frustrated, mad, too turned the fuck on to even- “Ha... haaa....” Whatever sound that is he makes he’ll take it to his grave, swallowing that moan just as Austria’s nail slides into that slit just a precious little amount, the intensity of one hot point nearly buckling his knees. “Fuck, if you don’t get on your fucking knees right now I can’t...” He’s not sure when his eyes fell shut in this scene, but he blinks them back open as soon as he realizes that Austria has stepped back, let go, is looking at him like germknödel as those elegant fingers undo the buttons of his shirt.

   “For once you have a point,” Austria informs him as that shirt and vest slough to the floor with uncharacteristic indifference. “It’s too warm in here.” Prussia takes that brief moment of reprieve to catch his breath, finding it getting caught when he watches Austria’s pale slender body bared, skin that surely hasn’t seen a lick of sun in the last hundred years if even then. Prussia is amazed a single muscle is anywhere to be found on that body, but Austria isn’t half as soft as he’s always pictured, the rugged untamed terrain of the alps, of those still unconquered forests and caves stretched out just waiting to be annexed. Prussia watches as Austria’s hands unfasten his belt, the button of his pants, fabric moving down, down until Austria turns, shooting a look over his shoulder, messy hair falling half over his face as he does. “Perhaps you’ll see Tirol if you ask me nicely,” he teases, giving Prussia a far longer, lustier look at Carinthia. Carinthia, that ass, cold snow capped mountains massive, begging to be mounted as that last pant leg is shucked off, Austria smiling at him so devilishly he nearly forgets his boxers are still on. “I don’t know how you expect me to... tend to you if you can’t even remember to remove your clothing.” He turns back around just long enough for Prussia to swear under his breath at him to shut the hell up, Saxony catching the band, Plauen giving a rather nice little stick with that balled up fabric landing somewhere back near the fridge.

   Part of him wonders if this isn’t when France and Spain or even America at this point is gonna pop out with a camera and a haha gotcha, but he’s pretty sure Austria wouldn’t understand a practical joke if it played a duet with him. He also isn't sure if the cloud fogging his vision is the heat or some crazy dream or even fucking cataracts or something, but he has to rub at his eyes and take a deep breath. He feels oddly thirsty when Austria bends at the waist one final time, haphazardly pooling his clothes to some semblance of a pile, Innsbruck staring him full in the face, pink, tight, Carinthia so epic and nebulous he swears that's where those clouds are coming from. It's that altitude, that mass asking, begging him to take, to fucking seize that shit from Wörthersee all the way to the top of Grossglockner. He blinks it away, breathing out hard as Austria turns back around; under normal circumstances, Prussia would say shyly but there's ain't a damn thing shy about that expression. Hungry, thirsty, wanting to swallow him whole- Prussia swallows at that poor choice of words, that vivid image interlaid over Austria's heated flushed face as he sinks to his knees, before Prussia can blink a second time, without preamble.

     Prussia mentally kicks himself for not taking the time to get a better look at the rest of Austria's naked body on display, curious as to how Vienna's developed, just exactly how Salzburg has flourished in the new age. Well shit, it's not like Austria's giving him much chance as those hands are on his hips, running over his thighs practically fucking purring.

"You really are the strongest, aren’t you, Preußen," he breathes out, the hard muscles of Prussia's quads quivering beneath those worshipping fingers, stroking him just like one of his stupid precious instruments. That tremor might very well be felt through Leipzig, his heart Burg Hohenzollern likely to crumble when Austria looks up at him lusty, needy saying that name again, like he's about to beg Prussia to- "You wanted me to beg you... to give it to me... my glasses," he breathes over Prussia's cock that warm tickle making Prussia shiver, gritting his teeth as Austria's mouth, those lips lower closer, so agonizingly close to- "But you're going to be the one begging me," he promises, nails scraping just so lightly down the inside of Prussia's thigh that he half hiccups and thinks he’s going to swallow his tongue.

     That so? You really think I'm ever gonna... Oh who the hell is he kidding? The moment the tip of Austria's tongue taps, teases, twirls around the head of his hard bobbing cock he practically throws his hips forward to drill right between Austria's pink lips. He grunts, exhaling in frustration as Austria's turns his hands, just as quickly and pushes him back against the counter hard, that wood biting into the small of his back, his knees already half bent.

"Shit, you little..."

"Not until you beg me for it," Austria says with such a sultry ominous tone that it makes Prussia's toes curl against the wooden floor. And Prussia thinks he sees the faint flicker of a smirk but it's gone just as soon as Austria's tongue flicks again, fast, light, just so fucking light, around that sensitive glans. But it doesn’t stop there, starting to trill a vivacissimo- God why does he even know what that word means?- down, down, until Prussia can feel Austria’s face rubbing the shaft, that tongue massaging the skin right at the base until he squirms, that girth swelling even wider.

   “Fff...” The expletive is about to burst forth when Austria laps lower, laving his balls around, every miserable rub of his dick to Austria’s cheek making Prussia groan. His hands try to pull away from the counter, but his entire body is locked tight, every muscle tensely coiled, pulling tighter when Austria hovers again. He licks that mouth heatedly, lips sticky, face, sticky, one two string of precum spider webbing from the side of his face so shamelessly it make Prussia want to blow his load over every inch of it.

“I’m sure you want me to take it in my mouth but...” But? Fuck but, what fucking but is he going on about? Austria’s mouth is open almost experimentally moving his head forward just to see how far he can go without letting any bit of Prussia’s dick brush the sides. Prussia nearly sobs, heat, wet so close before Austria pulls back and looks up at him with an innocent expression that crosses right into filthy. “...I don’t know if it will fit,” he says softly, eyes darting back and forth between both of Prussia’s heads. Austria gives a tilt, keeping his eyes locked to Prussia’s as he brings those lips back closer again, dark, full like he bit them that dark, just so damn close to-

   “P-p...” Prussia nearly chokes on that please, seeing Austria’s mouth open again one stupid precious millimeter at a time, eyes never leaving his.

“Do you think it will?” A faint brush again of the head of his cock to that beauty mark making Austria’s eyes flutter in some ecstasy that has to be a fucking put on because there’s no way Austria is that turned on just from- “Do you think you can make it?” Do I think I can?... There’s no way he heard that right. No way except his mind is already telling his hands to let go of that counter and instead let them fall to that crown of dark hair and plunge all the way to the root whether he chokes on it or not. But the only one choking right now is Prussia as Austria decides not to wait for an answer and instead presses his lips to that wet sticky tip dripping clear fluid until that slutty mouth fucking glistens with sweat and slick. Prussia’s back arches, his hips jerk, once more thrown back to the counter as Austria lets just a little more pass, Prussia mentally measuring every agonizing micrometer as it passes that luscious oral gate. He twists, he tries to catch his breath, feeling like he’s about to hyperventilate as fucking slowly as Austria is moving and he just can’t-

   “Shitplease...” The expletive intermingles with that plea, but the moment the words force themselves out Austria’s hands leave his body, making slamming noise on the cabinet doors like he’s bracing back to- Oh fuck fuck God fuck... Because Prussia would swear on old Fritz himself that he’d never imagine almost coming from just one fast hard plunge of a mouth swooping down, sucking, swallowing. But just as Austria descends like some wild sky dive, his hips, unbound, snap forward, nearly launching him into the kitchen table as his cock hits the back of Austria’s throat. He feels that gagging convulsion, feels that instinctive swallow, but Austria doesn’t back off, doesn’t cough or cuss, but moans loudly, some shift of his knees on the floor to meet that motion. Prussia feels that tight clamp, feels his cock swelling to an impossible size with that mouth like a VC-12 Vakuumier. “Fuck...” is about all that he can manage between Austria’s tight wet mouth, tongue caressing even as Prussia lets one hand off the counter to tangle in sweat damp hair to fuck his mouth harder. He can hear the bang of the cabinet, half panicked for a split second that Germany might very well hear them, but not caring as Austria moves, comes up for breath like some ancient pearl diver a hundred feet deep gasping beautifully to air. “Do you want it again, bitch?” Prussia rasps that taunt with such a rawness he’d almost think it was him deep throating the fucking antidote a second ago. Austria looks at him just a moment and this time he knows he doesn’t miss the smirk, the taunting smile and just the though of holding that head with both hands makes him nearly-

   Nearly fall over, apparently, as he releases his final hold on the counter, his legs deciding that they’re sick and tired of this standing up shit.

"You act like no one's ever put it in their mouth before," Austria observes with his usual dry cutting, but that hyper focus on Saxony, eyes roaming over every building, every hill, every blade of grass, practically looking in every fucking window as he says it does more than take the sting out of those words. It makes Prussia half groan in defeat not even wanting to argue as he shoves at Austria's shoulder.

"Yeah, got it," he gasps as Austria passively lets himself be pushed back on his ass, looking up waiting, wanting, a challenge in those eyes as he absently licks the side of his hand, mouthing every bit of sweaty cock induced condensation. "Miserable insufferable yada yada," Prussia almost falls on the floor, the knob of the stupid cabinet scraping his back as he half slides down, reminding himself this isn't even close to the most ridiculous thing that he's ever done. He huffs irritated and hot, Austria not helping as he leans back on one hand behind him, those long legs spread showing every bit of Tirol, Innsbruck right below and nearly right below there...

   C'mon, just a little more baby, lift that ass of your just a little more, spread those legs a little wider, part the fucking Alps so I can get another good look at Innsbruck. He's probably half drooling, open mouthed, just like some alley mongrel as Austria would say if he wasn't too busy being some body snatcher sex kitten on the kitchen floor. Prussia's not complaining no, not at all. Raised up on his knees, he half crawls over Austria's body surprised that he actually lets him.

"So you finally come to the derelict dark side, baby?" Prussia asks smelling his cock on Austria's breath as those fingers slip from Austria's mouth and stroke the side of Prussia's face. "Couldn't resist me, could ya? Saw this and you wanted some so badly you just couldn't help yourself." He shivers as Saxony slides up flush with Tirol, as his legs nearly hit the back of Austria's thighs and he sees some sensual come hither head turn that-

   “Fucking bitch what the hell?!” Austria's eyes, triumphantly devious, look at his almost amused, that slap loud, sticky, smearing Austria's spit and Prussia's own semen across his face. He's about to haul off and return the favor thinking if Austria wants to play rough then he's more than happy to rumble. Except that slap is followed up with a shoving foot flat on his chest that knocks him off balance and on his back with another curse. He opens his mouth again, that angry epithet dying damn dead as Austria strikes like a cobra, twisting, twining up over his body mouth up his stomach, the heat of his tongue cooling hot skin when that faint breeze blows humid from Weißensee.

"Mmm, I'd guessed right, you do taste like a swine," Austria murmurs to his skin, his mouth fastening to Prussia's chest, sucking his left nipple between his teeth drawing skin bloodless white, effectively killing any indignation at that remark.

   "Tch.... Sh... yeah... yeah that's me fucking oink right?" he babbles, those teeth hard, Austria straddling his right thigh grinding, sliding just like those two snakes doing it that he saw the one day watching Discovery Channel with Canada. He can feel those pinpricks intensifying out, his back arching, thigh raised to let Austria rut harder, mingling more sweat. He sees Austria's head turning as he tries to keep his focus, those eyes hazy like the hot sun setting dusk sky without those stupid glasses. Yeah, you like that don't you? Prussia rocks his leg more in turn, feeling Austria grind against him harder, rubbing his cheek over Prussia’s chest like a cat, palm flat, fingers curling, scratching as he gasps and moans. Prussia's own hips tilt, tip, try and twist so he can meet that frantic motion as Austria seems determined to get off against Prussia's thigh Dresden probably downpouring from all the sweat pooling between them. He can half hear, half feel Austria's soft hitches of breath against his chest, feel this thighs clamp around his with some soft needy sigh.

     Ch do you have any idea how fucking hot you look like that? So fucking hot that Prussia almost forgot that he even had hands that could be groping, holding hips, flipping them back over and-

"I can't wait anymore..." Austria whispers against Prussia's feverish skin and Prussia thinks if that's the case then he should've just laid back and let Prussia give him a good old fashion capitol sacking a second ago. “Do you understand... what I mean?” Austria looks him in the eyes, hands sliding to Prussia’s shoulders, that intensity, that mania magnified something fierce without those stupid lenses over his face. Prussia’s pretty sure if he didn’t know what Austria meant he’d either be Germany or a fucking eunuch. “I’m not asking you,” Austria declares breathlessly putting a finger over Prussia’s lips. “I’m telling you.” Prussia nods dumbly, eyes nearly crossed looking at that hand, seeing an eager smile blossom that some part of him says should be completely terrifying but Austria’s hand moves from his mouth to his cock, palming flat, rotating, rubbing, finger tips teasing at his sack until that single nod becomes some stupid bobble headed shit up and down as Prussia closes his eyes.

   “You always did think with this more than anything else.” Austria gives a squeeze and again Prussia just gasps “yeah” and nods, eyes popping open as soon as he realizes that Austria’s sliding back down.

“Yeah, got it, I’m a pig, so why don’t we pretend like it’s 1866 and-“ Prussia sits up on his elbows just in time to see Austria crawl back between his spread legs, hands on his inner thighs urging them back apart as he lowers his mouth back to Prussia’s prick in one smooth motion. Prussia watching him sink further down on spread knees, lets his eyes flicker over that ass high in the air, swearing his cock is just getting harder still, Saxony about to burst its borders and spill state lines out of whack.

“Oh fuck oh fuck...” He lets his legs fall over wider, Austria turning his head, slurping back up the side, teeth tugging foreskin lightly, some small series of nips that make Prussia fall back again on the floor, blindly reaching out hands. He feels Austria smack them away as his head moves lower, slipping one sensitive testicle into his mouth. His tongue plays a small poke with each gentle suck, suck poke suck poke until Prussia’s left thrashing and swearing, tilting his hips up impossibly high, thrusting into the air as Austria’s mouth moves to the other. His tongue continues pressing, playing, rolling it around in his hot mouth, hand lifting him to fucking heaven.

   At least that’s what it feels like, and Prussia starts to feel a small muscle strain realizing that Austria’s hands have maneuvered his knees towards his body leaving him open, weirdly exposed, and he’s about to ask what Austria thinks he’s doing when he feels that tongue twirl lower and lower still. And here’s about where Prussia might say, if Austria was some hot chick in a bar, that he might not want to put his mouth anywhere near Prussia’s sweaty asshole cause he’s pretty sure between the heat and humidity Müritz’s water level’s flooded Waren’s harbor twice over. But there isn’t a single hesitation as Austria’s mouths his asscheek, sucking skin in lustily as he attempts to turn Prussia into a human pretzel. Okay, strike that, Austria’s hands aren’t even on his thighs anymore, instead slipping down, long fingers gripping his ass and much to his surprise it’s Prussia’s ass being spread wide as Austria wastes no time in lapping at his quivering hole. Prussia clenches instinctively, groaning feeling that resistance worked, teased open, wet, spit trailing down the crack of his ass, making him gasp. Fuck, who knew you were such a filthy little bitch? Christ where’ve you been hiding this shit? He can feel that tongue pushing in further, slow, determined, thumbs right at that tight ring pressing, spreading, and he feels Austria wriggle inside, feels his thumb start to press in stretching, and his head snaps back when Austria stabs that tongue in deep.

   He swears as his head cracks on the floor, hand cradling the back of his head with a faint grimace that turns to another slack mouth mantra of “shit fu fuhuuuck...” feeling tongue alternate with crazy slick fingers each time more slick, more wet, and he can hear Austria slurp sluice slide those digits, that image so vividly called to the forefront of his feverish brain that he has to cup his balls hard just to keep from coming. He doesn’t count, he isn’t sure if there’s two, three, one tongue and a full house that Austria slides into his greedy hole, but he catches himself right before begging like some conquered bitch nation for more. His fingers are fisted in his own hair, tugging, a growl rising from his throat as he thrust up into his hand, painfully brought back from that edge only racing towards it again at breakneck speed. He can’t wait. Fuck it, he’ll be hard again in seconds just looking at Austria, he’s sure of it and he can-

   “Preußen...” is moaned against his skin as Austria lifts his head to watch him, skin just a little redder around the mouth where he was going to fucking town on Prussia’s ass. It’s just about the hottest fucking thing that Prussia’s ever seen. “Let go,” Austria says a tug to his wrist and Prussia’s about to tell him he can go shit in his hat if he thinks Prussia’s just gonna snap to and do whatever he tells him no matter how crazy sexy nerd without glasses gone wild hot he is. “In my mouth,” Austria continues and Prussia nearly cracks the back of his hands on the floor above his head in the rush to do whatever the hell Austria wants. Yeah, shit, you want it, I’m gonna give you such much it spills out of those slutty lips of yours. Just- “Please...” Yeah, Austria can just beg him like that even as his mouth hovers, lowers, Prussia giving a none too subtle jerk up of his hips that’s slammed back down with surprising quickness. Austria takes him all, head practically a blur bobbing up down, practically doing push up with that beautiful face fuck so tight, so hot as Prussia’s cock slides down his throat rubbing, throbbing, and this time he doesn’t even consider holding back. Austria’s hand moves, rests right on his lower stomach pressing, that pressure building faster and hotter and as hard as it is he claws up on his elbows and just watches right as he feels himself-

   “Fuck...” is gasped out like it’s ripped from his throat, Austria sucking that explosion right out of him like some earth shattering starburst of blood engorged bliss. But that “fuck...” quickly turns to “Fuck, you fucking cunt!” when Austria’s mouth moves, a wicked smirk on his face as he keeps Prussia’s hard spasming cock pointed up, letting that hot come splash his stomach, his chest, even squirting onto his own face. That curse is followed by a violent throwing back of his head, dropping down with a faint burning, that splatter from the overflowing waters of the Elbe hitting dead center in his left eye, right in the heart of Schwerin. There’s another string of curses half of which he doesn’t even remember as he feels around above his head for those damn shorts to try and wipe his eye clean. He thinks he feels a swipe to his stomach, a wiggle squirm shimmy up letting his hand reach that cotton to finally get that crap out. Christ I’m probably gonna get fucking pink eye. It’s gonna be the fucking plague all over again and I bet you’re sitting back laughing that snooty ass proper behind the hand thing that you pull when you wanna be all superior and shit.

   He finally dares opening that eye again, blinking some watery mess out as Austria crawls back up between his spread legs, panting, chest heaving like he was holding his breath the entire time. “I need... I need you... so badly,” he pleads and that’s all the cue that Prussia needs to turn this bitch around. Okay, yeah. Prussia doesn’t hold a grudge, he can be just as forgiving as the next guy. Except that his hurried “yeah uh huh” is met with the tip of Austria’s cock to his soaked, stretched hole, Bregenz ready steady go to slam it on home and spill half the fucking Bodensee in him. He opens his mouth to tell Austria in no uncertain terms is the Kingdom of Prussia anyone’s fucking bitch no matter what England might say when he wakes up but Austria takes that moment to shut up up with a lap to his lips, to his tongue, to his open mouth making Prussia taste a dirty spit sweat spritzer that’s just as hot as it is filthy.

“Fuck,” he pants as Austria laughs softly.

“I knew I could count on you to enjoy such base things.”

“Yeah well I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” Prussia answers with a smirk wondering if that dizzy feeling isn’t the onset of fucking heatstroke when Austria starts to push into him, forehead to forehead, lip biting, whimpering, face walking itself around to panting breathless hot bitch at his ear.

   Initially his hands scrabble at the floor but then in some moment of pure dick bursting brilliance, Prussia realizes he could be putting this hands to much better use right about now. He finally goes for it, hands eagerly taking hold of Carinthia, of that sweet fat ass, just squeezing until he’s sure his palms are leaving some damn fine prints. Austria’s breath catches, and there’s a sharp jerk of his hips, that slow press flash forwarded to being buried a mile deep in a lake that Prussia swears is only thirty one meters and not the hundred sixty kilometers that Austria’s trying to shove in there. Not that it matters where their bodies are concerned and he doesn’t try to think about it most of the time, but moments like this, joined, connected in those two improbable geographic locations it almost makes his head spin. His knees push together, digging into Austria’s hips just to slow that pace, hands warring with that motion, trying to pull him in even deeper. Prussia turns his head, staring at the dust bunnies beneath the cabinet for one hyperrealistic moment in the present right before Austria’s mouth is at his ear softly.

   “Is it too big, Preußen? It’s not even all the way in. Not even half.” Fuck, that makes him groan. Whether in anticipation on dread he doesn’t even know, he’s still half in a post coital daze fighting sleep just as his dick is fighting to wake him back up again. His hands are still trying to pull that ass closer, pull Austria in until he comes out the other side behind him, and doubly so when he feels a shallow thrust drilling in deeper. His knees loosen that hold to allow it, about five warring sounds trying to claw our of his throat as Austria pants harder, breathes deep like he’s the one putting forth all the effort- “But you still want it, don’t you? You’ve always been such a masochist.”

“No one... fucking asked you...” Prussia moans, kneading that ass, feeling himself spread open wider, those thrusts starting to prompt a roll of his hips. There’s an unspoken begging for more as that sensitive ring stretches bigger, his ass clenching, massaging every meter of Tirol. It’s hot, just like a human body pulsing warm inside him but it’s also just as cold as those mountains, of that altitude makes a hot cold tingle that he can’t get enough of.

   “Fuck... more,” he grits out as his body opens up, hot, volatile volcano not pouring lava but rather taking in that icy hot lancing prick as deep as he can stand it. He swallows, nearly chokes, Austria always too damn slow, too damn proper even now and he smacks that ass hard in frustration. “Fuck if your gonna fuck me, fucking fuck me.” He hears that chuckle wickedly to the shell of his ear, his cock responding almost instantly with another happy rub against Austria’s stomach. He’s definitely hard again. Maybe even harder than before.

“I’d make you say please if I thought you capable of manners.” Always a prick, that’s Austria. But he does it, shifting, nearly dumping Prussia on his head as he takes hold of his knees, upending Prussia’s arms in the process. Austria shoves those knees hard into his chest, Prussia kinda amazed at his own flexibility. “I’d tell you hold on,” Austria says with another naughty smirk, that little beauty mark seeming to mirror that expression all on its own, “but I’m sure a brute like you can manage.” That tone is ominous, swirling with desire and Prussia has half a mind to grab the leg of the kitchen table but the hell with that shit, there’s nothing Austria could possibly do that-

   “Hnnnngh!” Except maybe make him nearly bite his own tongue off, slamming into him hard, deep, like the Austrian Empire was just reborn as some Prustrian bastard chimera. “God,” he half sobs, not having a second to catch his breath fire, ice, good, bad, heaven, hell, like ten thousand other antonyms flickering like some flip book through his brain, that ring stretched wider, slick, opening open to Tirol’s thick base, Austria not stopping, not slowing as his nails dig into Prussia’s knees just over the top. His hips give a damn impressive smacksmack over and over, that rub making Prussia clench to feel him even better, the sounds nearly stopping from his throat but some guttural mess, half drooling out the side of his mouth as Austria decides this would be the perfect time for some passive aggressive airing of grievances.

“Boorish, insufferable, loud, arrogant...” goes on into a few words he doesn’t feel like straining to hear, all broken up half gasped, half yelled as Austria moves faster, as those deep thrusts become more desperate until Austria’s hands slip sweaty from his knees. They land on his shoulders, trying to find some point to resettle as he swallows, gasps, and Austria tells Prussia that he’s an ass for not even having the decency not to sweat so much.

   There’s some retort to that somewhere in the back of Prussia’s head that start with “Fuck” and perhaps ends with “off”, except Prussia doesn’t seem able to get past that first word. Instead he finds himself raising his hips, meeting those motions with a timing that’s just one scale off but music has always been Austria’s thing not his. And Austria corrects, derides his rhythm just as he changes his angle to match, deciding that putting his hands on the backs of Prussia’s thighs will suffice. That works for him, that extra little bit of depth, of girth spreading his ass just that tiny bit until a sound that is anything but a whimper escapes once, maybe twice, maybe he’s gonna pretend none of that’s happening as he gropes for his dick to tug, to rub, to get himself off again just as Austria lambastes him for being a selfish degenerate. Prussia just cracks a smile at him, thinking that’s what he gets for deciding to use Prussia’s own spunk as lube. Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it little master? But he’s getting kinda sick of Austria’s berating, at least when he goes in on Old Fritz and all bets are off. Prussia decides instead of telling him to shut the fuck up since he never listens anyway it’s easier just to take matters into his own hands and being that he does have one free, he settles for grabbing a fist of Austria’s hair and yanking him down to some teeth banging kiss that Austria eagerly turns to with a breathy moan.

   It could be Neusiedel Am See, it could be because Austria’s always always liked all that kissing shit, but it does the trick all sloppy and panting. Austria laps at his mouth, letting Prussia bite his lip, pull his hair harder as those motions get jerkier, more needy, content to just stay buried balls deep with those short little bursts that Prussia can feel trying to press him open as wide as he can. He squeezes. He feels Austria whine against his mouth, feels like mouth to mouth as they both half gasp for breath, swapping oxygen, carbon dioxide, a bunch of other shit. And it starts with two mouths rubbing more than kissing, and ends with Austria’s last hard push before Prussia can feel that pulsing spasm of the Bodensee filling him so full he’s sure the Müritz is gonna flood everything in a twenty kilometer radius. He feels that push continue, those little presses, feels that come fucked out of him, a steady slick trail tickling as Austria lets every last drop spill messily forth inside him. He needs to catch his breath. He needs to come. But what he really needs is to flip this bitch over and finally have a good hard go at that ass that’s eluded him for the last several centuries.

   Austria looks about to let him too, sitting back on his knees, that dirty sparkle in his eyes as he teases Prussia’s gaping hole with his middle finger and just slurps it clean. Prussia keeps stroking lightly, teasing, letting that anticipation build as Austria watches him with those dark, sex crazed eyes. Prussia has no idea what the hell has come over him but it’s supposed to be even hotter tomorrow and if he can throw Arthur the fuck out, they’ll have all day all night to christen every surface of that basement while Germany keeps playing stiff shirt working on reports. Reports shit, Prussia’s got a report to take care of as Austria feigns a long suffering sigh that he doesn’t believe for a second, and turns around with a mutter of “I suppose you expect me to return the favor now.” Oh you ain’t fooling anyone, baby, now back that ass up and show me the Brenner Pass. He could almost swear that Austria hears him or maybe he said that out loud, who the hell knows? He’s about to give at least twice as good as he just got and Austria on all fours, turns, left hand spreading soft, flesh, the wind whipping across those peaks, those mountains, until he can see that luscious fertile valley right there for the taking. And he’s not about to waste any time either, spitting in his hand, spit mingling with come, precum, whatever the hell else slick, ready like Astroglide ain’t got nothing on him. “But I don’t know if I can take it all, Preußen,” Austria couples that tease with a faint nod of his head confirming to just go ahead no preliminaries and just do it.

   God is he ever gonna do it. Prussia barely resists the urge to smack his hands together eagerly, instead giving Austria’s ass a good hard smack, watching it shake, that soft moan reaching his ears like the 4th movement of Beethoven’s 9th.

“Oh you’re gonna take it all, little master, you’re gonna-“ Gonna look up when the kitchen door swings open, Germany staring down at the both of them, hair plastered to his head from the heat, the white undershirt not faring much better. Prussia opens his mouth about to tell Germany he can bitch at him later about whatever the hell it is just will he kindly get the hell out right now, except Germany is oddly silent at a time when he ought to be ranting loud enough to bring the house down. In fact, it’s Austria that he’s looking at thoughtfully and Prussia’s about to tell him if he wants a go he can wait his fucking turn. But it isn’t a lustful action that follows but rather a quiet, oddly pointed retrieval of Austria’s glasses from the counter top, Germany placing them back on his face.

“You need to finish those reports.” He doesn’t say another word after that, instead leaving and Prussia is seriously weirded out for a second before deciding he doesn’t fucking carer. “Yeah, dunno what that was about but we can leave that to the philosophers. Ain’t that right, baby?” He gives Austria’s ass another good smack two inches from Nirvana lined up pretty as a picture when he hears Austria clear his throat.

   “Gilbert.” The tone is flat, irritated, nothing like it was a second ago. Prussia looks at him as his head turns like something out of fucking Poltergeist, giving him a look black enough to wither every field in Brandenburg to blight. “What do you think you’re doing?” He opens his mouth, closes it again stupidly, too stunned to even formulate a proper retort. He has a feeling that anything short of “nothing oh mighty Österreich,” followed by five minutes of solid groveling is gonna get him that beer bottle broken over his head. He shuffles back, his hard on dying a slow pathetic death as he scoots back again on his knees, deciding that there’s something absolutely fascinating about the trim along the baseboard.

“Just ah... checking ahh...” He mumbles something that even he doesn’t understand hearing Austria getting to his feet.

“This never happened,” Austria informs him frostily as he gathers up his clothes and the papers as well. Prussia huffs softly, scratching the back of his neck annoyed.

“Yeah, got it. You’re a prince, I’m dirt, ten four and all that shit.” He’s pretty sure the rest of that is spoken to air as the door swings open and closed, Prussis groaning deeply as he falls back on the floor knowing Austria’s gonna be hogging that one fucking shower forever. He doesn’t even dare the basement until Arthur goes the hell home and he has a chance to disinfect that shit from top to bottom.

   “Step one, murder West,” he says to the ceiling above him. “Step two... hide those fucking glasses.”

"Tatort" is a long running popular crime show in Germany. A sister show with a shorter (but still impressive run) in East Germany is "Polizeiruf 110" and called "Polizeiruf 113" in Austria.

"germknödel" is a dessert, a dumpling filled with spicy plum jam and covered in a butter sauce from Bavaria and Austria.

"VC-12 Vakuumier" is a model of German vacuum sealer.
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