[Fanfic][PrUK][APH]
Jan. 14th, 2011 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: ... Most People Smoke After Sex
Genre: Romance
Pairing: England/Prussia
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, sex, dom!England
Summary: PWP based on RP with my Prussia. Arthur tops (as he usually does, because Gil makes one hell of a sexy sub). Enjoy!
In public, it was something that he would never admit to. Gilbert was proud, often arrogant, never allowed anyone to speak over him and despite the fact that nobody saw him as a nation anymore, he still managed to slip into every UN meeting and make at least one opinion known before someone threw him out.
No way in hell would he admit how much he enjoyed this.
Slim, pale-fingered hands were sliding up the backs of his legs, deftly pressing and massaging the muscles while the person sat behind him hummed quietly, a tune that he knew all too well, one that they both shared. Though of course, his lyrics were better. With his head propped up, arms crossed under his chin the only word to describe how he felt as those hands moved up over his back and the wiry muscles of his shoulders was ‘melting’. He was melting into the bed, it felt like, eyes half-lidded and every inch of skin infused with the faintest buzzing sensation.
“How does that feel?” the one working some kind of magic on him murmured, and he tipped his head to one side, looking up into half-curious, half-amused evergreen eyes. Blond hair, pale skin, the ever-present sweater vest that he always had so much trouble trying to remove without spoiling the mood. His lover, Arthur Kirkland. They were an oddly matched pair, anyone would say as much, but they had known each other for such a long time that it had almost felt natural when they’d fallen into it. His brother had been far from happy.
“… Fucking good,” Gilbert mumbled in response, and Arthur simply smiled, nodding once. Presently, he leaned down and pressed a kiss between the Prussian’s shoulders, murmuring a quiet ‘better?’ against his skin. Gilbert wanted to roll over, to hug him or something like that, but instead of being stiff and aching as he had been when this had started, he was far too comfortable to want to move. “Mmmh, ja,” he let out instead. “Much better.”
“Very good,” the English nation replied, not moving from his spot and playing with Gilbert’s hair, running the pale strands between his fingers and letting them fall back. The younger man was close to purring as he half curled up beside the other, only moving when he felt the light brush of a kiss against his ear. He cracked one eye open and peered up at Arthur, looking at him steadily for a few long moments before shifting closer and muttering under his breath. Right now, he was quite sure that he could die happy.
“What’s that?” Arthur asked, his fingers shifting from the man’s hair to rub at his shoulder.
“I love you,” came the low, near incoherent reply.
“Mmh.” With his eyes turned away Gilbert missed the faint blush on Arthur’s face at those words. It had taken so long before the Prussian nation would say that to him in English rather than German, and he never tired of it. “I love you too.” He ran his fingers down Gilbert’s arm and took his hand, rubbing over the scarred skin that he found there, a little awkwardly when one of his hands was claimed and held onto. Lifting the one being massaged he pressed a kiss to the palm and felt Gilbert’s fingers curl against his cheek, those crimson eyes looking up at him now and made soft by an odd kind of affection. Another kiss was brushed to the paper-white skin of his wrist and he let out a small laugh, that infectious ‘kesese’ sound.
“Tickles…”
“I love you,” Arthur said again, softer this time, and Gilbert shivered, still with a wide smile on his face as he propped himself up on one elbow and leaned in to kiss his cheek, sitting up a little.
“I love ya too, Art.”
Another blush rose to Arthur’s cheeks as his heart fluttered, and the Prussian grinned at the expression on his face in the moments before the Englishman kissed him, gripping harder to his hand and kissing him back, fingers cupping his cheek as Arthur’s eyes dipped closed and Gilbert looked over his face, unable to keep from smiling against the other’s lips.
“Mm, Gil…” the blond drew back, just enough to speak, vision filled with the wine-coloured gaze of the other. “If you keep this up, I’m going to ruin all my good work.”
“… I’m not stiff or hurting anymore,” Gilbert informed him, speaking against his lips. He felt himself pushed back slightly, something amused in Arthur’s voice when he spoke again.
“Was that an invitation?”
Pulling a little against the hand in his, Gilbert opened his eyes, giving Arthur a wry look. “You want me to beg?” Arthur knew better than that. Gilbert Beilschmidt never begged. Usually.
“Save that for later, mm?”
“Mm, alright then.” He was grinning far too widely, eyes half mast as he watched Arthur pull away and undress. His gaze flicked over every scar on the man’s body. Scars he’d kissed and loved and he knew the story behind each and every one. He had held his hand over the deep brand on the man’s hip while Arthur shuddered and quaked beneath him, pressed his lips to the Blitz-torn scar over his heart as if his regret could heal the damage caused, and he had thumbed the line drawn between his hips while entertaining idle thoughts of going after Scotland with a claymore. Arthur had said to him once that at the end of it all, they were all the same. He hadn’t understood it at first, but he knew now. Scars, nightmares, that desperate struggle to survive… they were all the same.
Arthur’s hair was ruffled as he moved back towards his lover, kissing him warmly, and instantly Gilbert slid one leg up around his waist, pulling him close and urging his lips to part. He rocked up when Arthur pressed down against him, a hand running down his neck and shoulders, nails biting lightly into the skin as he felt a warm flush already sparking on his skin, turning that faint tingle from earlier into a pleasured thrum over his entire body. Small, pleased sounds already leaving his lips, he drew Arthur closer with one arm wrapped around him, feeling a hand at his hip gently lifting him. They had been active the night before, rather vigorously so (Gilbert wasn’t sure how Arthur had managed to stand up to make tea afterwards), and Arthur moved into him easily, provoking a hitched, low groan that caught in the Prussian’s throat as he rocked up, looking into those emerald green eyes above him.
Each slow, deep thrust moved close to his centre as one hand ran into his hair and they kissed again, half muffling the almost whining moans of pleasure escaping the Prussian at each push inside. His fingers fisted in Arthur’s hair, nails digging faintly into his scalp and back as that kiss continued slow and sweet, and he adored the man over him with every inch of himself. A kiss was pressed to his neck and then their foreheads touched, and his eyes flickered open to meet Arthur’s, shifting as he felt a hand at his lower back, supporting him against each thrust.
“You’re beautiful…” Arthur murmured. Once, a time not so long ago, such a remark would have flustered the Prussian to the point of not being able to continue, but he had grown used to compliments like this, and he nuzzled against the Englishman’s cheek, a low groan mingled with the other’s name escaping him as his fingers dug in harder.
“Mmmh… ya’re… pretty damn amazin’ yerself, Arthur…” he replied, hearing the soft chuckle from his lover, and then a shift in position flooded his skin with heat as that spot deep inside him was finally found and pushed against. He let out a low hiss, eyes rolling up in his skull as his back arched upwards, Arthur’s hand on his back only adding to the sudden pressure as his entire body throbbed with the beat of his heart. “Oh—Gott, Arth- nnnhhh…” he let out, his voice shaking, hands gripping to him almost painfully. “A… again. Fuck, harder…”
“Mein schönes Preussen…” A nickname that he had become used to, one that always sparked his pride, murmured softly into his ear as a hand at his thigh pushed his knee higher, granting Arthur more access, allowing him to push in deeper, harder, a slight speed in his pace as his eyes flickered and struggled to focus. Gilbert’s nails drew livid red lines down the others back and neck, his cries becoming louder, a needier, gasping sound escaping him as he, too, struggled to keep his eyes open.
“Mein Pirat,” he breathed out. “M-mein… aa-aah…” His head tilted back, teeth gritting. “Bitte…”
He felt as if he was on fire, the only sounds the quiet, soft gasps of their breathing and the sound of skin on skin. Arthur was always so gentle with him, even when he was rough - he treated him like something fragile, something breakable, something precious. Gilbert had never been treasured like that. Arthur drew him close, both arms moving around his back, and he pulled the man up into his lap, drawing a choked sound from the other as he slid in to the hilt, filling him entirely.
“Hold on to me,” Arthur said softly, almost urgently, and the Prussian wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the other gripping to his waist like a lifeline, his breathing harsh. Arms slipped up under his knees and he felt hand splayed at his lower back, supporting him as he pressed close to Arthur and shuddered, panting heavily. “Come on, we’re not done yet…” And then he was being moved, each thrust short and shallow and pressing so deeply into him that he could barely stand it, his mind felt fogged, the words that left him now barely English and not quite German as he threw his head back and wrapped his legs tight around Arthur, kisses brushed up along his jaw moments before that heat grew to a maddening pressure and broke.
Gilbert hit his end first, lurching forwards to press his forehead to Arthur’s neck as he cried out loudly, clenching hard around him, his knees pressing into the other’s ribs. He heard the shaking groan beside his ear and his teeth dug into the faintly corded muscle of the Englishman’s shoulder as he felt the man spill inside him. Breathing in short, bursting gasps, he shook his head as if to clear it and tried to relax, every muscle tense and quivering.
“G… Gott…” he whispered, and Arthur made a quiet sound in response, moving one hand up and down his back. They stayed like that for a while, their bodies slowly cooling and breathing returning to normal, Gilbert detaching his nails from the man’s back and muttering an apology when the action produced a soft hiss of discomfort. Light kisses along his jaw made him move his head back, and he looked down into Arthur’s eyes, feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach and flood him with warmth as he did.
“Only you,” he muttered, butting his forehead lightly against the others and closing his eyes.
“I would hope it was, Gilbert, or I would be terribly upset,” Arthur replied, the slight breathlessness in his voice doing nothing to hide the humour in it.
“Ach… Halt's Maul,” the Prussian said, though his voice lacked any venom and Arthur just laughed, touching their noses together. Gilbert felt strangely docile, and nuzzled lightly back, thumbing the row of studs down the Englishman’s shoulder that marked the tuning pegs of the guitar tattooed on his back. Arthur let out a pleasured hum and shifted, resting his head against his lover’s shoulder and breathing softly against his neck.
“Say, Gilbert…” he murmured eventually.
“Mmh..?”
“I don’t suppose you fancy a brew?”
The slow movement of Gilbert’s hands over the Englishman’s shoulders stilled, and he shifted to cast a slanted look down at the man, one pale eyebrow raised. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“Not at all.”
Gilbert looked away. He rested his chin on top of Arthur’s head and made a low ‘hnf’ sound, a puff of air over the man’s hair. His thumb moved in an idle circle around the faintly jutting bone of Arthur’s shoulder blade.
“… Ja. Yeah, go on, then.”
Genre: Romance
Pairing: England/Prussia
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, sex, dom!England
Summary: PWP based on RP with my Prussia. Arthur tops (as he usually does, because Gil makes one hell of a sexy sub). Enjoy!
***
In public, it was something that he would never admit to. Gilbert was proud, often arrogant, never allowed anyone to speak over him and despite the fact that nobody saw him as a nation anymore, he still managed to slip into every UN meeting and make at least one opinion known before someone threw him out.
No way in hell would he admit how much he enjoyed this.
Slim, pale-fingered hands were sliding up the backs of his legs, deftly pressing and massaging the muscles while the person sat behind him hummed quietly, a tune that he knew all too well, one that they both shared. Though of course, his lyrics were better. With his head propped up, arms crossed under his chin the only word to describe how he felt as those hands moved up over his back and the wiry muscles of his shoulders was ‘melting’. He was melting into the bed, it felt like, eyes half-lidded and every inch of skin infused with the faintest buzzing sensation.
“How does that feel?” the one working some kind of magic on him murmured, and he tipped his head to one side, looking up into half-curious, half-amused evergreen eyes. Blond hair, pale skin, the ever-present sweater vest that he always had so much trouble trying to remove without spoiling the mood. His lover, Arthur Kirkland. They were an oddly matched pair, anyone would say as much, but they had known each other for such a long time that it had almost felt natural when they’d fallen into it. His brother had been far from happy.
“… Fucking good,” Gilbert mumbled in response, and Arthur simply smiled, nodding once. Presently, he leaned down and pressed a kiss between the Prussian’s shoulders, murmuring a quiet ‘better?’ against his skin. Gilbert wanted to roll over, to hug him or something like that, but instead of being stiff and aching as he had been when this had started, he was far too comfortable to want to move. “Mmmh, ja,” he let out instead. “Much better.”
“Very good,” the English nation replied, not moving from his spot and playing with Gilbert’s hair, running the pale strands between his fingers and letting them fall back. The younger man was close to purring as he half curled up beside the other, only moving when he felt the light brush of a kiss against his ear. He cracked one eye open and peered up at Arthur, looking at him steadily for a few long moments before shifting closer and muttering under his breath. Right now, he was quite sure that he could die happy.
“What’s that?” Arthur asked, his fingers shifting from the man’s hair to rub at his shoulder.
“I love you,” came the low, near incoherent reply.
“Mmh.” With his eyes turned away Gilbert missed the faint blush on Arthur’s face at those words. It had taken so long before the Prussian nation would say that to him in English rather than German, and he never tired of it. “I love you too.” He ran his fingers down Gilbert’s arm and took his hand, rubbing over the scarred skin that he found there, a little awkwardly when one of his hands was claimed and held onto. Lifting the one being massaged he pressed a kiss to the palm and felt Gilbert’s fingers curl against his cheek, those crimson eyes looking up at him now and made soft by an odd kind of affection. Another kiss was brushed to the paper-white skin of his wrist and he let out a small laugh, that infectious ‘kesese’ sound.
“Tickles…”
“I love you,” Arthur said again, softer this time, and Gilbert shivered, still with a wide smile on his face as he propped himself up on one elbow and leaned in to kiss his cheek, sitting up a little.
“I love ya too, Art.”
Another blush rose to Arthur’s cheeks as his heart fluttered, and the Prussian grinned at the expression on his face in the moments before the Englishman kissed him, gripping harder to his hand and kissing him back, fingers cupping his cheek as Arthur’s eyes dipped closed and Gilbert looked over his face, unable to keep from smiling against the other’s lips.
“Mm, Gil…” the blond drew back, just enough to speak, vision filled with the wine-coloured gaze of the other. “If you keep this up, I’m going to ruin all my good work.”
“… I’m not stiff or hurting anymore,” Gilbert informed him, speaking against his lips. He felt himself pushed back slightly, something amused in Arthur’s voice when he spoke again.
“Was that an invitation?”
Pulling a little against the hand in his, Gilbert opened his eyes, giving Arthur a wry look. “You want me to beg?” Arthur knew better than that. Gilbert Beilschmidt never begged. Usually.
“Save that for later, mm?”
“Mm, alright then.” He was grinning far too widely, eyes half mast as he watched Arthur pull away and undress. His gaze flicked over every scar on the man’s body. Scars he’d kissed and loved and he knew the story behind each and every one. He had held his hand over the deep brand on the man’s hip while Arthur shuddered and quaked beneath him, pressed his lips to the Blitz-torn scar over his heart as if his regret could heal the damage caused, and he had thumbed the line drawn between his hips while entertaining idle thoughts of going after Scotland with a claymore. Arthur had said to him once that at the end of it all, they were all the same. He hadn’t understood it at first, but he knew now. Scars, nightmares, that desperate struggle to survive… they were all the same.
Arthur’s hair was ruffled as he moved back towards his lover, kissing him warmly, and instantly Gilbert slid one leg up around his waist, pulling him close and urging his lips to part. He rocked up when Arthur pressed down against him, a hand running down his neck and shoulders, nails biting lightly into the skin as he felt a warm flush already sparking on his skin, turning that faint tingle from earlier into a pleasured thrum over his entire body. Small, pleased sounds already leaving his lips, he drew Arthur closer with one arm wrapped around him, feeling a hand at his hip gently lifting him. They had been active the night before, rather vigorously so (Gilbert wasn’t sure how Arthur had managed to stand up to make tea afterwards), and Arthur moved into him easily, provoking a hitched, low groan that caught in the Prussian’s throat as he rocked up, looking into those emerald green eyes above him.
Each slow, deep thrust moved close to his centre as one hand ran into his hair and they kissed again, half muffling the almost whining moans of pleasure escaping the Prussian at each push inside. His fingers fisted in Arthur’s hair, nails digging faintly into his scalp and back as that kiss continued slow and sweet, and he adored the man over him with every inch of himself. A kiss was pressed to his neck and then their foreheads touched, and his eyes flickered open to meet Arthur’s, shifting as he felt a hand at his lower back, supporting him against each thrust.
“You’re beautiful…” Arthur murmured. Once, a time not so long ago, such a remark would have flustered the Prussian to the point of not being able to continue, but he had grown used to compliments like this, and he nuzzled against the Englishman’s cheek, a low groan mingled with the other’s name escaping him as his fingers dug in harder.
“Mmmh… ya’re… pretty damn amazin’ yerself, Arthur…” he replied, hearing the soft chuckle from his lover, and then a shift in position flooded his skin with heat as that spot deep inside him was finally found and pushed against. He let out a low hiss, eyes rolling up in his skull as his back arched upwards, Arthur’s hand on his back only adding to the sudden pressure as his entire body throbbed with the beat of his heart. “Oh—Gott, Arth- nnnhhh…” he let out, his voice shaking, hands gripping to him almost painfully. “A… again. Fuck, harder…”
“Mein schönes Preussen…” A nickname that he had become used to, one that always sparked his pride, murmured softly into his ear as a hand at his thigh pushed his knee higher, granting Arthur more access, allowing him to push in deeper, harder, a slight speed in his pace as his eyes flickered and struggled to focus. Gilbert’s nails drew livid red lines down the others back and neck, his cries becoming louder, a needier, gasping sound escaping him as he, too, struggled to keep his eyes open.
“Mein Pirat,” he breathed out. “M-mein… aa-aah…” His head tilted back, teeth gritting. “Bitte…”
He felt as if he was on fire, the only sounds the quiet, soft gasps of their breathing and the sound of skin on skin. Arthur was always so gentle with him, even when he was rough - he treated him like something fragile, something breakable, something precious. Gilbert had never been treasured like that. Arthur drew him close, both arms moving around his back, and he pulled the man up into his lap, drawing a choked sound from the other as he slid in to the hilt, filling him entirely.
“Hold on to me,” Arthur said softly, almost urgently, and the Prussian wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the other gripping to his waist like a lifeline, his breathing harsh. Arms slipped up under his knees and he felt hand splayed at his lower back, supporting him as he pressed close to Arthur and shuddered, panting heavily. “Come on, we’re not done yet…” And then he was being moved, each thrust short and shallow and pressing so deeply into him that he could barely stand it, his mind felt fogged, the words that left him now barely English and not quite German as he threw his head back and wrapped his legs tight around Arthur, kisses brushed up along his jaw moments before that heat grew to a maddening pressure and broke.
Gilbert hit his end first, lurching forwards to press his forehead to Arthur’s neck as he cried out loudly, clenching hard around him, his knees pressing into the other’s ribs. He heard the shaking groan beside his ear and his teeth dug into the faintly corded muscle of the Englishman’s shoulder as he felt the man spill inside him. Breathing in short, bursting gasps, he shook his head as if to clear it and tried to relax, every muscle tense and quivering.
“G… Gott…” he whispered, and Arthur made a quiet sound in response, moving one hand up and down his back. They stayed like that for a while, their bodies slowly cooling and breathing returning to normal, Gilbert detaching his nails from the man’s back and muttering an apology when the action produced a soft hiss of discomfort. Light kisses along his jaw made him move his head back, and he looked down into Arthur’s eyes, feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach and flood him with warmth as he did.
“Only you,” he muttered, butting his forehead lightly against the others and closing his eyes.
“I would hope it was, Gilbert, or I would be terribly upset,” Arthur replied, the slight breathlessness in his voice doing nothing to hide the humour in it.
“Ach… Halt's Maul,” the Prussian said, though his voice lacked any venom and Arthur just laughed, touching their noses together. Gilbert felt strangely docile, and nuzzled lightly back, thumbing the row of studs down the Englishman’s shoulder that marked the tuning pegs of the guitar tattooed on his back. Arthur let out a pleasured hum and shifted, resting his head against his lover’s shoulder and breathing softly against his neck.
“Say, Gilbert…” he murmured eventually.
“Mmh..?”
“I don’t suppose you fancy a brew?”
The slow movement of Gilbert’s hands over the Englishman’s shoulders stilled, and he shifted to cast a slanted look down at the man, one pale eyebrow raised. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“Not at all.”
Gilbert looked away. He rested his chin on top of Arthur’s head and made a low ‘hnf’ sound, a puff of air over the man’s hair. His thumb moved in an idle circle around the faintly jutting bone of Arthur’s shoulder blade.
“… Ja. Yeah, go on, then.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-14 10:47 pm (UTC)C:
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-14 11:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 01:03 am (UTC)You Putting it into this format... sdjfdjgdh You're Such a Good Writer It Hurts My everything. I Love It. -Favorites Forever+-
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 02:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 02:26 am (UTC)“You’re beautiful…” Arthur murmured. Once, a time not so long ago, such a remark would have flustered the Prussian to the point of not being able to continue, but he had grown used to compliments like this
Hnngg.. I love this pairing so much.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 02:38 am (UTC)Your Prussia wouldn't be called Shiro/Kayla, would she? XDDD
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 02:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 02:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 03:16 am (UTC)They had been active the night before, rather vigorously so (Gilbert wasn’t sure how Arthur had managed to stand up to make tea afterwards)
I love this line so much xD
B'awwww. I love this pairing now. <33
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 03:22 am (UTC)Good O3O This pairing is awesome.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 03:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 11:41 am (UTC)This is like the flip of what I do with my England...sometimes...when we both are in a derpy romantic mood.
This was derpy romantic, which is exactly what I needed right now. So I'm happy.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 05:21 pm (UTC)And thanks~ Glad you like.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 02:01 pm (UTC)/seriously fairly incoherent, even with this being the second time I'm reading it.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 05:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 02:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-15 05:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 07:05 am (UTC)I AM FILLED WITH ENVY FOR THEIR ROMANCE XD
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 06:42 pm (UTC)Thank you~ oAo
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-21 09:54 pm (UTC)sexy and cute at the same time *.*
I love how the act together
thanks a lot :D
have a muffin~<3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-21 10:27 pm (UTC)Fankoo =D
Занятный блог
Date: 2012-02-15 10:47 pm (UTC)