Fuyu Tatsu: I love my mother. She got me a laptop. But anyhow! I has a new fanfiction! Lalalala! It's a Rus/Amer/Chi one, as requested. Due to computer breakage, porn, false starts, bad plots and family feuds, this took forevah!
Rating M, Russia, America, and China are not nations in this. Just warning you.
Russia is a sadist, America doesn't know when to quit, and China? Well, he just got dragged into it. But that doesn't mean he didn't enjoy it.
For Curious, who asked politely. I'm so sorry it took so long lovely!
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Russia was excited. A true, marrow-deep giggly and teary-eyed excited. There was a lean and lanky blonde carelessly exposed on his bed, without a stich to cover the gently flexed muscle and summer kissed skin. Russia would have to say he loved this blonde figure, but love was such a strong word. It invoked a sense of possession which he could not claim, for this delicious figure was not his alone. No, he lusted after this blonde, who would dart away at the last second after sensuous teasing and linger over his mind like a rainy haze.
But how he wanted this blonde. He loved to see it when this flawless specimen cracked under erotic pressure, giving into the baser natures of man. Hoe they begged for more of his chilled touch against sweating skin cried out when the moment of climax was brushed, but not eclipsed. Russia wanted to hear this blonde treasure beg tonight. Nothing would please him more.
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America heard the heavy footfalls before the caught the whiff of liquor. He always knew when the man came. He was as distinctive, which was a rarity in his opinion, and just as capable of child-like sweetness as he was absolute brutality. He would whisper things as he tormented America's body with various devices. A pulsating ring one visit, a gag/harness the next. He both dreaded and looked forward to the next visit from this man, preparing himself in any and every way possible. The suffocating chill descended upon him, lips eagerly meeting his own in a frenzied dance of dominance.
America would yield to this man after a fashion, but only after he was certain of the man's intentions for this visit. He could never be truly sure, but he could try. One leg was lifted, and his kneecap met his shoulder as his visitors' intentions were made crystal clear. There would be no words tonight, only the dance between two, their music only that of the gasps and exclamations issued forth from swollen lips and the steady rasp of skin against skin.
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The weather was dismal, in this fogged out city where smells were the only compass one could rely upon. He pulled his hood closer to his scalp, wishing for the dry winds of his homeland, where the Snake Goddess protected the land from the vicious rains that could kill many. He was drunk, that much he admitted, and an aching loneliness chewed at his spine more than hunger ever had. He ducked into the home of a good friend, who was not against spending a long night with him. His friend was kind, in that respect and it took considerable control not to seek his friend's bed more frequently. He thought of the wheat-haired individual, with eyes that matched the calm seas that kissed the battlements in this cold place. He let himself in, he was no stranger to this place, and removed his shoes before stepping onto the wooded floors.
He approached his friend's room, only pausing when he heard a distinctive gasp issue from the room. His friend already had someone here, and his mind went immediately to his own brashness, how he didn't announce his presence when he entered so boldly. He was about to turn and take his leave when he heard a low whisper, and the groan of bedsprings. A second later, a giant of a man, with skin like snow stood in the door-way of his friend's bedroom, gloriously nude and standing fully erect in all ways. He tried to pull his eyes away from the flushed length, only to find his friend bound behind him, his own arousal being restrained by lengths of what appeared to be cord. The blonde head lifted, revealing eyes hazed with lust and desire, lips swollen and red, and body shivering with an open invitation for whoever wished. China sucked in a harsh breath, but the man of snow skin pulled him into the room, closing the door with a loud click
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Russia undressed the petite man quickly, quelling protests before they had a chance to form correctly in the others' mind. He almost shivered with anticipation of this new addition, what the bound blond and this black haired man would do to each other before he joined them. His arousal hardened further, as he pushed the petite one down onto the mattress, watching out of the corner of his eye as the blonde pulled fruitlessly against his bonds to try and join. His face split into an unseen grin, as he traveled downwards to a nest of black hair, one cold hand closing on the rod of flesh, feeling it come to life with a few swift, firm strokes. The blonde groaned, almost in tandem with the black-haired man, who arched upwards as Russia pulled his hand away.
He almost giggled at the sight, as he brought out more cord to bind this man up with. He suckled at the flushed head, gently looping the slick material around the base, gradually drawing it tighter and tighter until the arousal looked as if it were going to pop with the slightest provocation. He gave one last lick to the heated flesh, and began to worm his fingers inside the both of them.
America gasped as Russia pushed in a thick fore finger. He didn't use oil; he didn't like how it made things easier. He always went bare; his fingers forcing a painful pleasure through Americas' body, making him break, slowly but surely. China was on his back, mere inches from him, receiving the same treatment. America almost felt sorry for the man. He had always used oil to make it easier for the smaller man, gently coaxing him into a fully stretched state. It took much longer, but it was always immensely enjoyable because of the noise China would make. It made his infrequent visits much more appealing, because only a certain cracking of self-control would bring him to America's doorstep.
Russia suddenly pushed in a second finger, making his vision erupt into stars and sparkles, and trying to move his hips enough to plunge those strong fingers deeper. China writhed on the mattress, his legs spread as wide as his binds would allow, moaning as Russia's fingers plundered mercilessly of his body. China rolled over suddenly, lapping at America's arousal like a kitten licking up milk from a saucer, when America saw the tell-tale sadistic gleam in Russia's eyes. His fingers were gone, leaving him empty and wanting, when warmth spread about his member. Russia was kissing China deeply, America's length between their lips, slathering it with copious amounts of saliva, and America groaned, feeling the gentle rubbing of teeth against the organ, and the alternating pressures of the two mouths. His body seized, trying to climax, but failed, making his senses acute and his skin doubly sensitive. He groaned again, knowing that it was going to be a long night indeed.
China felt the jerk of America's body and also felt the lips of the snow skinned man twist into a cruel smile. Nothing prepared him for the blur of movement, and how he found himself pinned under the man, with his considerable manhood ruthlessly pushing into his body. He was certain he screamed, but the pain was not unfamiliar to him. The snow-skinned man threw his head back as he became fully seated in the petite man, relishing the feel of a tender entry around him. He thrust in without hesitation, giving China no chance to become comfortable with his size. His body screamed out the abuse, but the snow-skinned man was very familiar with the layout of the male body, rubbing against the bundle of nerves that made his arch in pleasure rather than writhe in pain. He felt his body jerk once, and then twice with the signs of an incomplete orgasm, half cursing the man who plunged into him without mercy. His body spasmed a third time and he felt warmth spread inside his slender frame. The snow-skinned man pulled out, leaving him splayed wide and aching as he began thrusting into the blonde.
America bit his lip as the snow man pushed inside, but began to moan after a few hard thrusts. He bent double, crying out as his body was equally abused, over China's spread legs, tongue licking up the juices spilt by the first man, moving up to China's still hard erection, almost inhaling the standing organ, moving his head in time to the snow man's pounding. America's body seized again and the snow man pulled away, milky seed running down America's taunt buttocks and thighs.
Russia was shivering with barely contained giggles. Roughly he shoved America away from China, painfully flipping the blonde man to lie on top of China.
He saw the blonde jerk as heated skin chafed slightly, undid the cord slightly. He shoved himself inside the blonde man, who jerked as his abused body re-accommodated the size. But Russia wasn't finished. He eased China into America, watching in delight as America jerked uselessly against the cords, and began to thrust again. America should be breaking by now, and he was right, as the blonde began the fevered mantra pleading for release, as China's eyes rolled back into his head as Russia let their lengths rub against each other harshly. America wouldn't get what he wanted, not right away of course, but he would have to entertain Russia for a little longer before he did get what he wanted.
China felt it happening before his head knew what to think.
America was moaning, begging as both his and Russia's arousals were forced into the tight heat above him. China felt the rubbing and something loosening, and with the combined factors of heat, and lust, China lost what little control he had left, plunging mercilessly into America.
Russia watched as China pounded into the blonde, nearly writhing with mirth as China broke, and America shortly after wards. He ran his erection into America slowly; to counter the frenzied thrusts of China, making America shudder as his body fought the confines of his bindings. Russia felt his body tighten again in rising arousal, and roughly pulled the cords tying off release from below him.
America briefly thought Russia had succeeded in fucking his soul out as his body all but thrashed with an orgasm. He was vaguely aware of his erection spraying cum on China's stomach, and the seizing of the same man below him. But he observed it through a slightly detached view, as Russia finally pulled away, his sheets an absolute mess. He and China remained hooked together, but Russia callously untied them and re-dressed, murmuring words in his native tongue. After a small eternity, he left. America forced himself to rise and let China slide out of him, and roll to the side. It was near dawn.
He almost laughed in the heat remaining in his room, as a frosted bite was gone.
China lay there until well after the sun rose, his body taxed with last nights' activities. At America's insistence, he showered, while America washed everything and flipped his mattress. When he left, America was bathing, having washed and dried China's clothes.
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Russia returned to his own home, revealing in the heat shared between him and America and the black-haired man, whose name he did not know nor catch. No matter. He felt warm, and when it abated, he would let his feet lead him back to a sensuous blonde who danced temptations and lusts. Oh yes, he knew where he would return to. It would only be a matter of time.
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America sat on his couch, contemplating sleep. He never slept in the bed after Russia visited; the chill that hung of the man's skin seemed to sink into every fiber of the thing, heightening the loneliness the man brought with him as well. China had staggered off, more from pain than the hangover that his body no doubt set on the back burner. He closed his eyes, regretting for once being a diurnal person, because the aches of his body demanded rest, not wakefulness. He finally closed his eyes in a vain attempt, but eventually, drifted off. Not even thinking of the next visit from Russia, or even China.
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China sighed painfully as the bus he caught seemed determined to hit every pothole and bump this miserable city had to offer. He also seemed cold, not externally, but internally. As if the frozen man had forced his chill into his core. He debated returning to America's home, to see if he could rekindle the warmth he should be feeling, but decided against it, as his stop was just ahead.
Another day, when he lost self-control, and when that unnamed snow-skinned man wasn't there to rob the heat away. Another day.
FT: I wrote this while listening to 'Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off' By Panic at the Disco. I really shouldn't have, but it was good writing music. Go figure.
As to why that whole middle section was confusing and in third person, I found it really hard to do sex in perspective. Sorry lovelies.
Please R&R!