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silverfoxflowerTitle: It Melts Red Hot
Author:![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=3)
silverfoxflower
Fandom: Hetalia
Genre: PWP, Angst, Slash
Word Count: ~600
Pairing: Turkey/Greece
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, I guess, and not of the historical kind. Dirty talk.
Notes: Written for this prompt on thehetalia_kink meme. Also posted there to read/comment anonomously.
Summary: Turkey fucks Greece up against a pillar of one of his own ruins.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
“Don’t talk.”
It’s Greece’s only request, and although Turkey normally would have done anything but follow his instructions, considering that the brat is naked, legs spayed wide, letting himself be fucked into the marble of his precious legacy, Turkey thinks that he can be gracious. Just this once.
But he’s a loud person in general, so it’s hard. The sound of shallow breaths and bitten-away moans curl through the air as their bodies slap together. So hot, so lewd, familiar but without an easy pace that accompanies regularity. His face is in Greece’s sweat-slicked curls, lips centimeters from the curve of his ear.
He wants to gloat: Yeah, feels good? You can’t live without my cock, boy. You need me. Ain’t no one can fuck you like this. Can’t. Gotta swallow the words, and it burns both ways – that he can’t talk and that he’s following Greece’s instructions.
He had just come to inquire after Japan, whether the sweet little thing was still at Greece’s place. Then the brat had gotten all pissy. They’d fought, and then they fucked.
Like always.
Don’t talk.
But Turkey wants to (fucking in hard, long strokes, feeling the catch and friction of his thrusts, the reluctant surrender in Greece’s body, the boy is breaking into pieces under his fingertips) … wants to tease, to make Greece tighten around him in anger. Maybe coax a kiss, although he knows that that isn’t allowed either.
"You feel so fucking good around me like this, opening for me, yeah … God, I need you like this all the time."
Greece’s eyes are closed, head turned slightly away. The flush is high on his cheeks, and he expels a soft breath of air every time Turkey pushes into him, jarring the pillar, making everything tremble.
What is he trying to do? Turkey wonders, unable to look away. Is Greece thinking of another man, perhaps … Japan? But no, there is no other who touches him like this. Turkey smiles bitterly (and he is allowed, because Greece can’t see) at the thought that he is the only recipient of Greece’s reluctant submission, his biting anger, his ridiculous conditions.
Like, Don’t talk. Don’t kiss. Don’t touch me.
I hate you.
"… need you, need you like this all the time. Fuck, boy …"
The sun slides down the sky like a bloody egg, staining the ruins, the marble, the open-faced picture of classical beauty. Painting Greece in shades of darkness and fury. Turkey laps at his neck, wondering if a well-placed nip will make him bleed. Wanting to lick that up and swallow it until it becomes a part of him. Until they both become a part of each other again.
Greece hisses, low in his throat, and Turkey knows the angle. He has been purposely skidding over it, but now he fucks right up against Greece’s prostate, gripping his brat’s hips until his fingers dig in bruises that would last for days. Greece arches, making strangled noises and trying desperately to hide the tears in his eyes. Turkey holds him close as he comes, clenched and shuddering and no doubt hating every minute of it because his skin had been rubbed with Turkey’s scent, Turkey’s marks, Turkey’s…
Words.
"I think I might’ve loved you."
He probably doesn’t remember. Greece opens his eyes to a cloud of white dusting his hair and shoulders. It covers the bite marks and bruises, makes him look untouched. Turkey grimaces, everything aches, especially his back. Greece isn’t bitching at him to move, and for one moment, it was almost comfortable.
Author:
silverfoxflower Fandom: Hetalia
Genre: PWP, Angst, Slash
Word Count: ~600
Pairing: Turkey/Greece
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, I guess, and not of the historical kind. Dirty talk.
Notes: Written for this prompt on the
hetalia_kink meme. Also posted there to read/comment anonomously. Summary: Turkey fucks Greece up against a pillar of one of his own ruins.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
“Don’t talk.”
It’s Greece’s only request, and although Turkey normally would have done anything but follow his instructions, considering that the brat is naked, legs spayed wide, letting himself be fucked into the marble of his precious legacy, Turkey thinks that he can be gracious. Just this once.
But he’s a loud person in general, so it’s hard. The sound of shallow breaths and bitten-away moans curl through the air as their bodies slap together. So hot, so lewd, familiar but without an easy pace that accompanies regularity. His face is in Greece’s sweat-slicked curls, lips centimeters from the curve of his ear.
He wants to gloat: Yeah, feels good? You can’t live without my cock, boy. You need me. Ain’t no one can fuck you like this. Can’t. Gotta swallow the words, and it burns both ways – that he can’t talk and that he’s following Greece’s instructions.
He had just come to inquire after Japan, whether the sweet little thing was still at Greece’s place. Then the brat had gotten all pissy. They’d fought, and then they fucked.
Like always.
Don’t talk.
But Turkey wants to (fucking in hard, long strokes, feeling the catch and friction of his thrusts, the reluctant surrender in Greece’s body, the boy is breaking into pieces under his fingertips) … wants to tease, to make Greece tighten around him in anger. Maybe coax a kiss, although he knows that that isn’t allowed either.
"You feel so fucking good around me like this, opening for me, yeah … God, I need you like this all the time."
Greece’s eyes are closed, head turned slightly away. The flush is high on his cheeks, and he expels a soft breath of air every time Turkey pushes into him, jarring the pillar, making everything tremble.
What is he trying to do? Turkey wonders, unable to look away. Is Greece thinking of another man, perhaps … Japan? But no, there is no other who touches him like this. Turkey smiles bitterly (and he is allowed, because Greece can’t see) at the thought that he is the only recipient of Greece’s reluctant submission, his biting anger, his ridiculous conditions.
Like, Don’t talk. Don’t kiss. Don’t touch me.
I hate you.
"… need you, need you like this all the time. Fuck, boy …"
The sun slides down the sky like a bloody egg, staining the ruins, the marble, the open-faced picture of classical beauty. Painting Greece in shades of darkness and fury. Turkey laps at his neck, wondering if a well-placed nip will make him bleed. Wanting to lick that up and swallow it until it becomes a part of him. Until they both become a part of each other again.
Greece hisses, low in his throat, and Turkey knows the angle. He has been purposely skidding over it, but now he fucks right up against Greece’s prostate, gripping his brat’s hips until his fingers dig in bruises that would last for days. Greece arches, making strangled noises and trying desperately to hide the tears in his eyes. Turkey holds him close as he comes, clenched and shuddering and no doubt hating every minute of it because his skin had been rubbed with Turkey’s scent, Turkey’s marks, Turkey’s…
Words.
"I think I might’ve loved you."
He probably doesn’t remember. Greece opens his eyes to a cloud of white dusting his hair and shoulders. It covers the bite marks and bruises, makes him look untouched. Turkey grimaces, everything aches, especially his back. Greece isn’t bitching at him to move, and for one moment, it was almost comfortable.
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Date: 2011-07-21 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-22 01:10 am (UTC)