Por Favor!
Spain threw his head back with a delectable moan as the Netherlands thrust into him with quick, hard strokes. Each thrust was met with a slap of thighs and wet squelches, and it felt as if sweat beaded on every pore of their skins, Spain finding even his palms slippery as he clutched at the sheets in tight, white-knuckled fists.
He tried to call out to the Netherlands, what he did not know, but he had no voice. He had no voice because his throat was raw and he was incredibly thirsty. Oh that's it, that's right, he wanted to ask for some water. He was dying of thirst.
"Holanda, p-por favor!" he managed to choke out.
But it only seemed to increase Netherlands' vigour; his thrusts came, if possible, even quicker, and Spain lapsed back into moaning as pleasure engulfed him.
Not three hours before, sex had been the furthest thing from his mind as they chatted over a couple of drinks. Well okay, he had done most of the talking. He had talked about this and that, about everything and nothing in particular, steering well clear of politics and the economy… And when topics ran low, he had fallen back on his old favourite, which was, of course, Romano!
He could not remember much after that. They were having a good time reminiscing over Romano and his antics as a child, when he noticed that the Netherlands was drinking a lot and rather quickly in a very short span of time. Then, suddenly, Netherlands' tongue was in his mouth, and he had one hand digging under his shirt and feeling up every bit of naked flesh.
He would be lying if he said he had not gotten aroused.
"Holanda!" he squawked again.
They had been fucking for almost two hours straight, and at this ridiculous pace the Netherlands had set up and kept with all the focus and energy of one who could not possibly be drunk at all. Spain was certain of it. He, on the other hand, was fast feeling the effects of ingesting six beers in one seating, and he badly needed some water. "A-agua, por fa–!"
The Netherlands dragged him up and sat him down on his cock; Spain felt his mind melt once more, and with it the last of his grasping thoughts on some water. His arms wrapped themselves around Netherlands' neck as he bounced up and down on Netherlands' cock, feeling it go in deep, deliciously deep, and he forgot to speak for the next few minutes.
He was soon close to release. He could feel it as a knot tightening low in his belly, and the Netherlands must have sensed it for he started milking Spain's neglected cock, which reduced him to further incoherence.
He shook and shivered as he spilled liberally between them, pale ropes of his seeds stringing themselves onto their chests and abdomens, and it was a relief! He sank back into the bed, gasping for air, his vision popping still from his orgasm.
But the Netherlands was not finished with him yet.
"Turn over," he growled.
He did not wait for Spain to comply; he simply flipped him over to his stomach, raised his hips and entered him once more, grabbing hold of Spain's wrists and holding them tight behind his back. Spain let out a muffled cry, in pleasure or dismay, he did not know, he did not care.
All that mattered was to teach him to bring up Romano in the only time they had together.