Fic: A Little Show (England/Poland, NC-17)
Aug. 8th, 2011 09:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silverfoxflowerTitle: A Little Show
Fandom: Hetalia
Genre: Slash, PWP
Word Count: ~1200
Pairing: England/Poland
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Crossdressing!Poland, D/s themes, molestation of an unsuspecting pillow
Notes: Written for this prompt on the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hetalia_kink meme. Thanks, lovelycudy!
Summary: Horny!Poland + A Body Pillow + Toppy!England = ...?
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
Poland ran a hand over the long body pillow he was straddling, feeling the firm catch under his palm. Sighing, he turned and pressed his cheek against it.
“Does it have to be hot pink?” England asked drolly. He had taken off his jacket and was now in a pair of slacks and a shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Normally, Poland would have ran over and begun kissing that exposed patch of skin until England laughed and called him “my kitten” and the lines of tension on his face melted away.
Not tonight, however. Tonight was special. A performance.
“It totally matches my lingerie, don’tcha think?” Poland arched his back with a little smile, wriggling his cute little ass covered in pink lace. His arms circled the pillow again, pressing against it teasingly, as if it was his lover’s body he was spaying himself against.
Across the room, England seemed suddenly short of breath, his hand trembling just the slightest as he patted his way to the chair and sat, never taking his eyes off of Poland.
Poland let his thighs grip the pillow as he sat up, keeping it plumped and pressing against his ass. “Would you like me to start?” He asked more confidently then he felt, turning so England could have a good view of his bare chest, his small, pink nipples (perky in the cold), and his milky white skin.
England nodded briskly, brusqueness not quite covering his evident arousal. He was watching so hungrily that Poland felt something tighten inside him in reply.
With a soft moan, Poland slid his body against the pillow, feeling its too-soft give. He suddenly felt nervous, being watched like this. With a hesitant noise, he pressed his face into the cloth, hoping that he wasn’t blushing enough to make his face blotchy. The pillow smelled like England’s cologne. It made Poland shiver as he sat up and looked at his lover expectantly.
“Play with your nipples,” England’s voice sounded just a bit rough. “And start riding slowly.”
“Mmmkay…” Poland pushed his hair behind his ear and opened his hands to lightly cup his chest. When he first ran his thumbs over the pink nubs, it didn’t feel like anything special. Still, he gave a fake-sounding moan, rocking against the softness between his thighs.
England seemed to like it. Across the room, Poland could see him cupping the growing bulge in his pants.
That made it hotter. Biting his lip, Poland closed his eyes and ran his thumb across his nipples again and groaned – for real this time as he felt the sparks of pleasure dance along his skin. “Ahn … England, d-do you know who I totally am imagining doing this to me?”
“Obviously, me.” England raised an eyebrow, but he leaned forward, interested. “Pinch a little now … there’s a love.”
Poland nodded, breathless, as he rolled his nipples between a thumb and forefinger and then tentatively pulled. His rocking against the pillow grew more frantic, his cock finding frustratingly little friction in the cloth. Desperate, Poland’s thighs tightened around the pillow, trying to make the material taut enough to grind against. The elastic from the panties began to cut into his skin pulled, too tight by his erection. Poland glanced down at the growing damp spot on the front of his pink satin panties, giving a mournful thought about how they were likely ruined forever.
“Let me take them off!” Poland pleaded after a minute, squirming on the pillow as his crotch grew increasingly moist and uncomfortable.
England seemed to consider that for a second. “Just take your cock out.” He directed finally.
With a pout, Poland wriggled the elastic down his hips and reached down to palm his aching erection. It felt hot and hard in his hand, pulsing under his fingertips. Licking his lips, Poland tentatively brushed it against the pillow, hearing an answering groan from England.
This time, when he began to move, the starchy cotton was almost too much sensation for Poland’s sensitive skin. Eagerly, he began grinding against it, pert ass bobbing up and down as he made eager sounds.
Breathlessly, England began fisting his cock, pulling at it in wide, slow strokes as he watched Poland’s fingers twist in the bedsheets.
“I … I don’t know if I can come!” Poland called desperately, rubbing furiously against the pillow. The tension in his stomach coiled almost painfully but offered him no release. “L-like, let me touch myself … o-or finger-“
“No…” England gritted his teeth, starving off his own orgasm by grabbing the base of his cock. “Just … the pillow … imagine me fucking you into it.”
With a soft cry, Poland pressed his entire body against the cotton, raising his panty-covered ass in the air. He slid along its length, moaning as his pinched-sensitive nipples rubbed harshly against the cloth. Poland began to hump the pillow furiously, his legs widening to allow England the pretty little view of his spread ass through his lacy pink underwear.
Poland closed his eyes, bringing up images of England’s thick length pushing inside his ass, hot and deep, grinding against his prostate until he wailed. His body began shudder at the thought, his thighs starting to ache from the strain. Then Poland imagined that the pillow he was grinding against was England, in his sharp suit and his subtle cologne, dryly chiding Poland on his overeagerness.
Poland’s breaths came quick and eager as began riding the pillow in earnest. Of all of the reasons Poland not-so-secretly adored England - his grumpiness that could be cured with a kiss, his patience with Poland’s laziness and far-fetched ideas even though he tolerated very little of that from others, his insistence on pampering Poland with (horrendously) homemade dishes from his own country – the one which made his panties wet was how controlling England could be when he wanted to, his eyes going dark with smug possessiveness, claiming every inch of Poland with a cool smile.
“England, I-I …” Poland sobbed, trying to beg for permission to come even as this throat prevented him from doing anything but moaning.
“I know, sweetheart.” England hissed, bucking into his own hand.
Poland shut his eyes tightly and imagined England grabbing his ass and grinding him harshly against the rough material of his slacks. England, straightening his suit after spending all of lunch fucking Poland into a boneless, senseless puddle in his office. England, calmly reading the paper as Poland sucked his cock. In a heated frenzy of damp cloth, frantic rutting and pleas of England’s name, Poland’s orgasm ripped through his body. His thighs trembled as come splattered against the hot-pink pillowcase and his motions slowed to a tired rocking.
With a muffled cry from across the room, England came as well, milking his orgasm longingly as Poland’s sweaty body detangled itself from the pillow and flop back on the bed.
“I’m sticky.” Poland complained to the celling.
“It’s lovely.” England kneeled by the bed and pushed the sweaty hair off of Poland’s face, brushing a kiss on his cheek. “You’re lovely, kitten.”
Poland managed to smile at that endearment, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. When he awoke, he knew, he would be clean, dry and cuddled against a sleeping England. Perhaps, then, they could have proper sex, with England tying him to a bedpost and trying out all manner of sex toys in Poland’s horny little ass until he broke down and begged for England’s cock.
“Love you…” Poland said sleepily, lips curling in anticipation.
He barely heard England’s reply before he dropped off to sleep, but whatever it was made his heart warm almost unbearably.
Fandom: Hetalia
Genre: Slash, PWP
Word Count: ~1200
Pairing: England/Poland
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Crossdressing!Poland, D/s themes, molestation of an unsuspecting pillow
Notes: Written for this prompt on the
hetalia_kink meme. Thanks, lovelycudy!Summary: Horny!Poland + A Body Pillow + Toppy!England = ...?
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
Poland ran a hand over the long body pillow he was straddling, feeling the firm catch under his palm. Sighing, he turned and pressed his cheek against it.
“Does it have to be hot pink?” England asked drolly. He had taken off his jacket and was now in a pair of slacks and a shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Normally, Poland would have ran over and begun kissing that exposed patch of skin until England laughed and called him “my kitten” and the lines of tension on his face melted away.
Not tonight, however. Tonight was special. A performance.
“It totally matches my lingerie, don’tcha think?” Poland arched his back with a little smile, wriggling his cute little ass covered in pink lace. His arms circled the pillow again, pressing against it teasingly, as if it was his lover’s body he was spaying himself against.
Across the room, England seemed suddenly short of breath, his hand trembling just the slightest as he patted his way to the chair and sat, never taking his eyes off of Poland.
Poland let his thighs grip the pillow as he sat up, keeping it plumped and pressing against his ass. “Would you like me to start?” He asked more confidently then he felt, turning so England could have a good view of his bare chest, his small, pink nipples (perky in the cold), and his milky white skin.
England nodded briskly, brusqueness not quite covering his evident arousal. He was watching so hungrily that Poland felt something tighten inside him in reply.
With a soft moan, Poland slid his body against the pillow, feeling its too-soft give. He suddenly felt nervous, being watched like this. With a hesitant noise, he pressed his face into the cloth, hoping that he wasn’t blushing enough to make his face blotchy. The pillow smelled like England’s cologne. It made Poland shiver as he sat up and looked at his lover expectantly.
“Play with your nipples,” England’s voice sounded just a bit rough. “And start riding slowly.”
“Mmmkay…” Poland pushed his hair behind his ear and opened his hands to lightly cup his chest. When he first ran his thumbs over the pink nubs, it didn’t feel like anything special. Still, he gave a fake-sounding moan, rocking against the softness between his thighs.
England seemed to like it. Across the room, Poland could see him cupping the growing bulge in his pants.
That made it hotter. Biting his lip, Poland closed his eyes and ran his thumb across his nipples again and groaned – for real this time as he felt the sparks of pleasure dance along his skin. “Ahn … England, d-do you know who I totally am imagining doing this to me?”
“Obviously, me.” England raised an eyebrow, but he leaned forward, interested. “Pinch a little now … there’s a love.”
Poland nodded, breathless, as he rolled his nipples between a thumb and forefinger and then tentatively pulled. His rocking against the pillow grew more frantic, his cock finding frustratingly little friction in the cloth. Desperate, Poland’s thighs tightened around the pillow, trying to make the material taut enough to grind against. The elastic from the panties began to cut into his skin pulled, too tight by his erection. Poland glanced down at the growing damp spot on the front of his pink satin panties, giving a mournful thought about how they were likely ruined forever.
“Let me take them off!” Poland pleaded after a minute, squirming on the pillow as his crotch grew increasingly moist and uncomfortable.
England seemed to consider that for a second. “Just take your cock out.” He directed finally.
With a pout, Poland wriggled the elastic down his hips and reached down to palm his aching erection. It felt hot and hard in his hand, pulsing under his fingertips. Licking his lips, Poland tentatively brushed it against the pillow, hearing an answering groan from England.
This time, when he began to move, the starchy cotton was almost too much sensation for Poland’s sensitive skin. Eagerly, he began grinding against it, pert ass bobbing up and down as he made eager sounds.
Breathlessly, England began fisting his cock, pulling at it in wide, slow strokes as he watched Poland’s fingers twist in the bedsheets.
“I … I don’t know if I can come!” Poland called desperately, rubbing furiously against the pillow. The tension in his stomach coiled almost painfully but offered him no release. “L-like, let me touch myself … o-or finger-“
“No…” England gritted his teeth, starving off his own orgasm by grabbing the base of his cock. “Just … the pillow … imagine me fucking you into it.”
With a soft cry, Poland pressed his entire body against the cotton, raising his panty-covered ass in the air. He slid along its length, moaning as his pinched-sensitive nipples rubbed harshly against the cloth. Poland began to hump the pillow furiously, his legs widening to allow England the pretty little view of his spread ass through his lacy pink underwear.
Poland closed his eyes, bringing up images of England’s thick length pushing inside his ass, hot and deep, grinding against his prostate until he wailed. His body began shudder at the thought, his thighs starting to ache from the strain. Then Poland imagined that the pillow he was grinding against was England, in his sharp suit and his subtle cologne, dryly chiding Poland on his overeagerness.
Poland’s breaths came quick and eager as began riding the pillow in earnest. Of all of the reasons Poland not-so-secretly adored England - his grumpiness that could be cured with a kiss, his patience with Poland’s laziness and far-fetched ideas even though he tolerated very little of that from others, his insistence on pampering Poland with (horrendously) homemade dishes from his own country – the one which made his panties wet was how controlling England could be when he wanted to, his eyes going dark with smug possessiveness, claiming every inch of Poland with a cool smile.
“England, I-I …” Poland sobbed, trying to beg for permission to come even as this throat prevented him from doing anything but moaning.
“I know, sweetheart.” England hissed, bucking into his own hand.
Poland shut his eyes tightly and imagined England grabbing his ass and grinding him harshly against the rough material of his slacks. England, straightening his suit after spending all of lunch fucking Poland into a boneless, senseless puddle in his office. England, calmly reading the paper as Poland sucked his cock. In a heated frenzy of damp cloth, frantic rutting and pleas of England’s name, Poland’s orgasm ripped through his body. His thighs trembled as come splattered against the hot-pink pillowcase and his motions slowed to a tired rocking.
With a muffled cry from across the room, England came as well, milking his orgasm longingly as Poland’s sweaty body detangled itself from the pillow and flop back on the bed.
“I’m sticky.” Poland complained to the celling.
“It’s lovely.” England kneeled by the bed and pushed the sweaty hair off of Poland’s face, brushing a kiss on his cheek. “You’re lovely, kitten.”
Poland managed to smile at that endearment, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. When he awoke, he knew, he would be clean, dry and cuddled against a sleeping England. Perhaps, then, they could have proper sex, with England tying him to a bedpost and trying out all manner of sex toys in Poland’s horny little ass until he broke down and begged for England’s cock.
“Love you…” Poland said sleepily, lips curling in anticipation.
He barely heard England’s reply before he dropped off to sleep, but whatever it was made his heart warm almost unbearably.
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Date: 2011-08-08 05:17 pm (UTC)I'll be back after reading the story :)
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Date: 2011-08-08 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-08 07:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-09 01:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-09 01:55 am (UTC)