Fahrenheit 451 Centigrade J
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Category:
+G to L › Hetalia: Axis Powers
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,450
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money of of this.
Fahrenheit 451 Centigrade J
any of its characters. I’m also not making money off of this (And
really, who’d actually pay to read this? O_o) so please don’t sue.
By Cyrelia J
“Okurete imasu.” The door
clicks softly behind the tall blonde as he enters the room. The
overhead fluorescent lights have been turned off and the only light
comes from a tall shoji lamp
in the corner of the main room. It takes a moment for his eyes to
adjust but he sees the seated japanese man immediately. Those dark eyes
don’t regard him however, instead remaining focused on the book in
front of him on the table. Alfred approaches with a flush to his face
that may or may not be borne entirely from embarrassment. He’s learned
to recognize the phrase by now.
“Heh, yeah about that, I-” He trails off absently shifting from one
foot to another before taking a few more steps. Right. He’s late. No
time for pleasantries then.
As the slight figure raises elegantly from the zaisu, the
american drops his eyes
to the floor, focusing on the woven rushes of the tatami mat.
Kiku’s feet, covered in
tabi like his own make no
sound as he circles him. He feels those small, soft- too soft- hands
brush over the yukata he
wears and he shivers in spite of himself. He feels the feather light
caresses over his broad shoulders and feels his heart rate pick up when
a slender digit fondles the back of the collar, the soft hairs of his
nape standing up at the ghosting touch. He sees two small stockinged
feet appear in front of him and it reminds him just how small the other
man is. He can feel the silent rebuke when those questing hands stop in
front of the hastily and sloppily knotted obi.
“C’mon you gotta
help me with this thing! I was supposed to be out of here five minutes
ago!”
“Gee what a shame,” came the
completely unrepentant answer and Alfred had dared a desperate glance
to Kumajiro lying on the open air patio outside watching the fireflies.
“Can the fucking bear tie one of these?!” he all but screamed and
Matthew had only snickered softly
before kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth and then heading
into the bathroom to shower.
His feet make another guilty shift.
“Ah so- a-ano... gomen-”
“Nihon-sama,” comes the
patient instruction and in spite of himself, Alfred feels a flush and
he answers with a soft correction of “Nihon-sama.”
As hard as it was to learn he speaks the words with an assimilated
ease. Kiku tugs on the loose knot and watches the garment part to
reveal more of Alfred’s smooth skin. He keeps his eyes trained on the
ground and those small, still feet even though his peripheral vision
can see the dark head of the nation who he dwarfs by so many inches.
“Belted at the front again like a common whore,” he comments, his voice
soft as always and the american can’t help but flicker his gaze on the
almost comical protrusion at the front of the green silk in front of
him as he speaks in that slightly accented english.
Japan is large where it counts the most and the
blonde nation feels the heat in his face already flowing down to his
groin.
“I wonder what the staff must have thought when they saw him walking
down the hallway like that.” Kiku never addresses him directly. Those
small, almost dainty fingers slip the smooth fabric from his shoulders
and his body tenses for just a fraction. His muscles tighten and spasm
under the scrutiny and with that faint tremor through his body he
shifts again to keep his balance, legs parted ever so slightly more
than they had been. There’s an insidious trickle of thick white fluid
down the inside of his left thigh and he whines softly at the tickling
sensation.
Kiku moves again and it’s as if he can hear the
stare and feel that inscrutable gaze on his bare backside.
“Ah, so that is why he was late,” he remarks again to himself and
Alfred shivers and bites his lip when he feels a finger trace the slick
line of semen back to it’s source. There’s a near silence except for
the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears and a barely
perceptible thhp as the asian
man lets the sticky digit slip from between his lips thoughtfully. “It
was Canada then.” Japan always knows exactly who it is. His face
continues to burn as Kiku speaks, his voice always just above a hush
and always so detached. “Is he that desperate for cock that he will let
his own brother have him.” Alfred’s hands clench and unclench at the
running monologue and right as he opens his mouth to speak he feels
that finger again this time circle his still wet hole. A whimper claws
its way out of his throat as Kiku teases the sensitive opening.
In a rush of breath he pants out something half
unintelligible and Kiku eases just the tip of his finger inside
Alfred’s used passage, pressing him open just enough that more of
Canada’s cum dribbles down his soft inner thighs. The blonde nation
blinks, his focus on the floor blurring. He takes a deep breath but
finds that he just can’t seem to get his breathing under control.
“It’s... it’s so big Nihon-sama
I couldn’t help myself,” he “confesses” in a rush, his eyes closing.
The darkness disrupts his equilibrium and the room feels like it’s
spinning when suddenly those too small, too strong hands are on his
ass, spreading him wide open.
Through the pounding in his ears he feels rather
than sees the lithe asian kneel behind him and he cries out when Kiku
laps catlike at the thick gooey mess staining his pale, muscular
thighs.
“But never bigger than mine, little cum dumpster,” Kiku says with
something nearing heat as he moves from the left to the right thigh and
Alfred nods fervently, the darkness spinning more wildly out of control
and he just has to open his eyes again or he’ll drown in the sensation.
“Never. No one is as big as Nihon-sama,”
he swears, speaking slightly like one of the animated characters in
those stupid movies Japan always watches, referring to the other in the
3rd person. America has always been good at pulling other cultures into
little pieces of himself like a chameleon against a background of stars
and stripes and he feels the heated exhalations from the nation behind
him coming faster as he works.
He smiles, where Kiku can’t see and brings a finger
to his mouth, biting softly when that tongue teases between his spread
ass cheeks. Although Kiku cannot see the gesture it’s all part of the
package and when America puts on a show he never gives less than a
hundred percent.
“When the meeting was over... when we went back to our room I... I
couldn’t stop thinking of Nihon-sama
tonight...” His voice is pitched just barely an octave higher
and is so slight only one who was listening for it would hear it. He
feels those small fingers dig harder into his skin and knows he’s been
heard. His mouth is dry all of a sudden and he slides that finger
between his lips, teasing his tongue and his palette, stimulating his
salivary glands. He moans as the other nation continues to tease the
rest of the hot white fluid out of him.
“I wanted Nihon-sama
so badly I couldn't wait so I... I begged him. I begged aniki
to fuck me. I begged him to
stick it in...I...I...” it soon turns to “ah...ah...” as Kiku slips his
tongue inside Alfred’s hole, hypersensitive and yet still so tight even
after his brother mercilessly rode him. His hands run over his throat,
his head tips back, and he can feel his biceps tense against his chest,
the heat pooling painfully in his groin and yet somehow diffused
throughout the rest of his body like drug. His legs tremble and he
fixes his gaze on the darkened ceiling lights. The words from his own
mouth reshape the reality of his brother’s eye roll and begrudging
indulgence to lusty desire. They metamorphose the American’s petulant
whining and sophomoric taunts into something more palatable for
consumption.
“Please...” he begs, knowing that he’s scratching his own skin with
raised pink lines. The heat from his body causes a faint beading of
moisture on his glasses and the breeze from the mountains outside
caresses his hot skin like a lover.
He nearly falls to his knees when he’s released and
he staggers. As he catches his balance, he feels the hands on his
shoulders and in a fluid boneless motion he’s forced to the floor with
a sharp gasp. Kiku’s short, sharp nails dig into his scalp as those
slender fingers thread through his damp blonde locks. Alfred doesn’t
resist as his head is pulled back, his spine arcing like a bow
and he finds himself looking up into coal black eyes.
“I like him pliant like this,” the japanese man murmurs and leans down
terribly slowly. Alfred wets his lips in anticipation even though he
knows Japan will never kiss him and he whimpers as their lips stay
still but a mere breath away. “Perhaps the gaijin whore will
crawl to the bed
now,” is instead susserrates in a tease to his mouth and the kneeling
nation shivers and nods his assent.
He catches himself on on palms as he’s
unceremoniously released and that damn futon seems like a thousand
miles away. Kiku remains behind him, watching and the blonde moves
slowly, the fibers of the tatami
mat scraping his knees as he crawls. He knows the other’s eyes are on
his body, his broad muscular shoulders graceful, the corded sinew
rippling as he slinks like quicksilver. His fingers curl against the
woven mat and his erect cock hangs heavy between his legs. He gasps
when he feels another warm trickle and wonders just how much fucking
come Matthew has as he nears the unrolled futon. He catches
sight of the long
thin rope, and all at once the blood pounding in his ears
increases. He continues his crawl, exposed, excited, and as he
reaches the mattress, he slides onto it and turns around. America lays
back on his forearms and looks up, his long legs splayed with a
deliberate artfulness and he allows himself a better look at the other
nation.
He half expects a camera but instead sees nothing
but Japan’s hands held up, framing America in his view like a still
picture.
“I bet I know what the whore wants... no, no he is not a whore. A whore
would want money. Yes, a cock hungry ketsuman
like him is nothing but a slut.” The lack of expression on Kiku’s face
used to bother him but he’s learned to look beyond the superficial. The
way his hands shake when he encapsulates him in that timeless frame,
the way his slender chest rises and falls beneath the forest green yukata
tells him how much the other
nation desires him.
“But it feels so good, Nihon-sama,
I can’t help myself,” he answers, his blue eyes dark with lust as his
gaze falls to the ridiculous bulge beneath that outfit. “Onegai~”
He shows off another word
he’s taught himself swearing that half the dialogue of Japan’s animated
porn is that one word.
Kiku’s hands drop and he seems to be considering the
request for a moment with genuine weight as if this were more than
merely a game and Alfred acts as if he already has his answer. He sits
up and turns around kneeling with his wrists crossed behind his back.
He can see the moon reflected in his glasses behind him and he wonders
for a moment that the lenses really are so thick. He remembers the tale
Kiku told him about the rabbit in the moon and as the other moves
silently across the floor he forms his own tale. Kiku takes the red
length of woven hemp rope and wordlessly begins to loop Alfred’s wrists
with just enough pressure to delightfully constrict but not injure;
America can’t touch him this way.
He sighs at the constraint, not too tight, but tight
enough and he knows that Japan can work the rope perfectly without the
need for knots. Alfred speaks as Kiku works because he can’t bear the
silence.
“Matt was tired after the meeting so he laid down still wearing his
suit.” That much is true. He tips his head as if Kiku were kissing
neck, and he closes his eyes with a soft flutter letting the darkness
swallow up reality. “I couldn’t wait...” I didn’t even know he was
there until I
jumped on the bed and heard him swear at me. “So I unzipped his
pants when he was asleep. He was soft, but I’ve sucked so much cock he
wasn’t soft for long. He’s big- not big like Nihon-sama- but
big enough in a
pinch.”
“So help me Al, if you forgot we’re
sharing a room.”
“Is Arthur here?” he asked with an impatient shift of his eyes. He
looked at the clock and didn’t wait for
an answer before shaking his twin’s shoulder. “Alright the hell with
him. I need a favor bro~.
Japan’s hands are gentle and soft as he coils the
rope back onto itself and loops around Alfred’s front. The long sleeves
of the yukata brush the blonde’s chest and Kiku continues to
work
carefully but not intimately. The rope caresses him like a proper lover
where Japan does not. He sighs and squirms just so squeezing his legs
together tighter feel the head of his swollen cock weep. “He didn’t
wake up while I sucked him off, and I loved feeling his thick knob
filling my mouth-”
“Yes, a good little cockslut,” Kiku supplies as he urges Alfred to turn
around and lie back against the pillow. The buckwheat makes a faint
crackle and he finds a comfortable position where the brunt of his
weight isn’t on the bound limbs.
He crosses his legs at the ankles and brings his
legs to his chest giving a nod. He smiles as he watches Japan bind his
ankles to the rest of the rope and he takes another moment to rework
reality. The part of Florida that’s Disney always helps him beautify
his encounters.
“What the hell, Al?!”
“C’mon, bro, everyone else is busy
and-”
“I am not helping your stunted
boyfriend get his rocks off!”He blinks away the distance in
his eyes as he continues, watching the light glint off of Kiku’s shiny
black hair like a crown of stars.
“But I really wanted his cock so bad so I crawled back up and straddled
him. And I took it and just let the tip slide in and out and I could
feel it getting wetter cause mine does the same thing,” his voice is
breathy and as if to illustrate his point, the slick clear fluid
trickles from his slit.
“For the last time, he’s not my
boyfriend! ...Just the tip?"
“I can’t believe I’m having this
conversation with you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his
fingers, the debacle resulting from America’s ill fated scheme the
other night fresh in his mind. “And you know damn well it’s never 'just
the tip'.”
“But it was too much to tease and he was starting to
wake up so I sat back and let him sink all the way in and God it felt
so good I thought I was gonna go crazy. And then he woke up and his
hands were on my hips and he asked if I was gonna fucking move-”
“And I bet the slut fucked himself on that cock shamelessly,” Kiku
comments as he finishes securing the elaborate binding leaving America
totally exposed.
“Fuck yeah,” he answers without thinking and whimpers when he feels a
hard squeeze to his cock. “Y-yes Nihon-sama.”
“Little slut should beg me. He should beg for my cock,” Kiku hisses and
Alfred moans and whines, feeling his cock throb and leak even more.
“P-please... onegai Nihon-sama...
give me your cock. Fuck me, fill me, make me feel it in my fucking
throat. Please, god I’ll die if you don’t give it to me, I swear.” And
sometimes he really believes that’s true and it’s only now that he sees
Kiku smile and part the folds of the yukata
as if he’s unwrapping the best present ever.
As the obscene eleven inches in revealed, Alfred
finds himself panting and squirming wondering if he’ll be allowed to
kiss it. Sometimes it tastes like silicone and sometimes it tastes like
strawberry milkshake but it always softens just enough inside his hot
mouth and slides down his throat so easily he could suck it all day.
The ropes dig in as if begging him to be still. Kiku puts a hand on
Alfred’s right knee and then teases his opening with the massive head.
The blonde bites his lip and feels his cock throb when Japan whispers
softly,
“Such a dirty slut, begging me to take him with his brother’s seed
still leaking out of his passage.” But America knows he loves it. Kiku
teases him further, pushing in halfway- Alfred’s gotten good at knowing
just how much is in- and pulling out again, the shallow thrusts
maddening. He tries so hard to bear down just a little more, any little
millimeter extra, the movement of his abdominal muscles making his cock
twitch and leak even more.
“His greedy little hole wants my cock just as badly as he does,” Kiku
pants and finally lets that monster slide in so easily, and Alfred only
wishes they were in front of a mirror so he could watch that small
tight pucker distended by the thick shaft. His hands beneath him clench
helplessly at the bedding when Kiku’s other hand finds his left knee
and practically bends him in half as he seats himself fully with a soft
moan.
His muscles spasm and he can feel himself clench
tightly around the invader and God he feels so full it’s almost too
much. The hardness inside of him curves with his inner walls and as he
trembles around the invader he can feel his every nerve brushed and
teased and especially right there where it makes his cock ache so good.
If it wasn’t for the damn taste he’d never even know it wasn’t Japan’s
own flesh that claims him. Alfred asked him once if they could have sex
with his real cock; he never asked again. This is far better he thinks
to himself as Kiku pulls nearly all the way out and slams in brutally.
Perhaps he wasn’t born with it but he wields it like a master and
Alfred cries out as short nails dig into the skin over his knees and
the other nation fucks him hard.
“Slut, slut, beg me, little gaijin
slut... Kiku chants and Alfred struggles to remember to breathe, his
body covered with a sheen of sweat as he feels the tireless cock
pounding into him.
“Fuck yes, please more cock more cock... Nihon-sama....
loveyourcock
love it love it...” Canada is big but Japan is bigger. Japan is always
bigger and harder and America keens a whine in his throat as Kiku rocks
into him like a fucking machine, tossing his head back and forth
hearing the hard slap against his ass and the string of filth pouring
forth from the nation who never uses contractions in his english.
“Yesss... take it all slut, scream like a bitch, my bitch, filthy
little cock slut...” And Alfred screams for him on command, the tears
leaking from his eyes as the physical sensations become too much to
bear. All at once he’s hyper aware of every rough thrust, of the fibers
rubbing his chest and wrist, the little beads of buckwheat against his
back, his slick cock slapping against his tense stomach, precome
pooling on his quivering abdomen and the bruising fingers on his knees.
They’re joined by only three points of contact but any more would be
absolutely unbearable and he knows that one would be swallowed up by
the other.
“Harder... god harder... more...” It’s so hard to
think but he forces the learned language to the forefront of his mind,
a cry of “matta... matta... onegai...”
and fuck if he doesn’t sound like one of those weird little pretty boys
in Japan’s DVDs but it’s exactly what the other nation needs to hear
and he feels a few final desperate shoves and then hot seed filling
him. “Nihon-sama...” he
practically sobs, the other’s pace only slowing for that brief moment,
because even if Kiku’s dick is soft, the hollow construct surrounding
it isn’t and he sees something flicker in those black eyes as he feels
the cum being fucked out of him -one day he’ll have the nerve to ask
just how that thing works- and hears the squelch and sees the
other’s eyes
totally on their joining and that singular focus arouses him almost as
much as the act itself.
“Come,” Japan commands, his voice the same hush, the
same near indifferent whisper as it’s been the entire time and America
feels that unbearable heat erupt all at once through his every nerve.
His body is taught and he can feel the muscles in his legs contract in
their bindings, his toes curling, his back arching while his hips push
up and he feels as if he’s going to break while the warm pulses of
fluid splash his stomach, his chest, and fuck if he doesn’t come so
hard that he can taste it on his own lips. His nipples peak, the feel
of the ropes brushing them too much, Japan’s cock is too much and he’s
sure his screams can be heard throughout the entire hotel as those
millions of electrical pulses surge through him all at the same time
before converging in one maddening dying frenzy.
He doesn’t realize that Kiku has moved until he sees him kneeling back,
neatly put away, his hands framing him again: picture perfect.