The Edge

To love Prussia was to linger on the edge of a knife. To falter to one side or another was tantamount to self-destruction, be it through passion, which tore the heart in two, or violence, which ripped the body to ribbons. Austria was well-acquainted with this precarious balancing act. In fact, through the centuries, he had become so adept at it, that he was usually able to handle Maria with an almost inhuman detachment. This was not to say that there were not close calls. Rendezvous in deserted gardens, in cool and quiet corridors, and abandoned classrooms perforated his otherwise perfect performance. But these were his errors, and he was determined to correct them, particularly now that he and Prussia were compelled to spend more time together-she was struggling with a bit of flute music, a speedy concerto, that she needed to master for her end of the year exam. That is, she pretended to struggle. Austria was convinced that her troubles were little more than an act, a ruse to come climbing into his quarters after school hours and hassle him about this and that. She proved extraordinarily belligerent during these practice sessions. What a spectacular thorn in his side she was!

Currently, she had entered his chambers with a haughty half-smirk, tossed her shining silver halo of hair, set up her sheet music, lifted her flute to her lovely rouged lips, and played as badly and as loudly as she possibly could. The noise grated on Austria's ears, and Prussia knew it. He could see the amusement in those glittering scarlet eyes and the sadism in those dancing fingers.

"Vhat is the meaning of this madness? Are you damn deaf? Stop! Stop zat this instant! Ack!"

Prussia stopped playing, but there was a hint of a smile still twisted about her lips.

"I dunno what you're talking about, specs. Haven't I improooooved? Kesesese..!"

"Nein. Not in the least."

"Well. You're the teacher. So teach me, specs. Or are you just not up to it? You know, like everything else."

"I vill not tolerate such insolence. You vill learn your place, voman. Und stop this ridiculous charade. You know zis concerto. You've played it many times before. Vhy is it zhat you struggle vith it now? You vish only to cause me undue stress, is that not correct?"

"You will address oresama with the proper respect or my boot is going to find its place up your arschloch," she spat.

"Insolent voman!"

"Insufferable priss."

They appraised each other in silence. Austria removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Prussia was a naturally combative woman, but tonight she was more combative than usual. The heat of history throbbed between them, climbing to intense and unbearable heights. He was faltering. He felt his consciousness leaning on the edge, teetering on the brink of beastly madness. What was it about those twisting lips, that steely jaw, that moon-colored hair that drove him wild? It drove him wild even when Prussia was being difficult. Nay, it drove him wild particularly when she was difficult. They had persisted this way for many weeks. Finally, his resolve, like cool marble, was beginning to crumble. He felt his trousers tightening in a very troublesome way. Clearning his throat, he shifted at the grand piano, cracking his long and slender fingers.

"No matter. Again. Vith feeling."

Prussia began to play in the same spectacularly talentless tone. Frustrated, Austria stood, coming behind Maria to grasp her wrists.

"Nein! Nein! Like zis, you stupid girl. Like zis!"

He positioned her hands over the flute, guiding her fingers over the correct notes. He was surprised to find Prussia, in that instant, not only compliant but also downright maidenly. He had taken her wrists in his hands and, at first, Prussia's body grew tense, an embattled land shocked into further vigilance, but she relaxed after a while, like a blooming field beneath a summer sun. He felt her open unto him in that beautiful way, in that way that had broken him so many times before. That heat enveloped them. She had turned her face, her cheeks crested with pink, to look at him anew. Her lips were lifted, her hair a sensual silver tangle, and the topmost button of her school uniform had come undone. When did that happen? Austria swallowed.

"Is Hungary here?" she asked huskily.

"No. Of course not."

"I want-"

"Prussia, please."

"Prussia please... what?" Her hands, with deft familiarity, had begun to move over his chest and stomach, then circled round to his back. He felt himself fall into her, losing himself in the jungles of that tender touch. The heat was melding them together. They were alone, away from prying eyes, Hungary would not be home for a long while. Maria was pressed against him, her lips were hovering over his like a hummingbird above a spring bloom. "Prussia please... Do this?" She had torn open his shirt, lighting a fiery line of kisses over his chest and throat, leading to his lips, then pressing her mouth to his in a bruisingly violent manner. He was dizzy with his own passion for her. Inwardly, the darkness of his lust closed in round him, and he searched wildly for an escape, but there was none. There was only their dancing tongues, crushing kisses, and fingers pressed so sharply into flesh that they left little red crescent moons into the skin.

Her tongue, so talented and mischievous, explored his mouth with fervor. She tasted like cherries dipped in whiskey. It was a heady and intoxicating taste; he was drunk with desire. He was not himself. He was completely himself. He was pressing her against the nearest wall, and they were kissing, biting and licking one another like the wildest of animals. He would have her. He would have her now. All of her, as he had several times before. No. He wanted more this time. He would make her howl like the feral cat that she was. Academy be damned! They would hear her roar!

"Do you want...?" she whispered, her voice choked with desire.

"Mein gott yes."

"Of course you do."

She looked incredibly satisfied with herself, even as Austria tugged her into the bedroom and began the process of dismantling her. Her clothes, soiled from her rough-and-tumble day, fell into a pool at her feet. She stood before him in nothing but her underthings. She danced a little, in a ridiculous way, but Roderich wasn't laughing in the least. He could not stop looking at those delicious hills, those silken valleys. When she came to him finally, temptress that she was, she tore open his trousers and gripped him almost painfully. He was embarrassingly erect, throbbing for her and only her. It was only with Prussia that he grew so aroused, and the waves of pleasure grew only more vivid, crashed into him, suffocated him, as she tugged on his manhood. Her thumb was caressing the tip in a way that made him weak.

"Maria..."

"Yes, Roderich? Have you learned your place yet?"

"God damn you."

She met his curse with a kiss. They tumbled into his bed together. Her breasts were bare and erect; they were like lovely snowy mountains. How he kissed and suckled them, feeling the rough bump of her nipples against his tongue! Her back arched in response. Her responding sweat was like nectar to him. He dragged his tongue over the valley of her belly, into the meadow of her belly button. She giggled, almost girlishly. Her hands were twisted in his hair.

"You're getting awfully close to Berlin there, buddy. Watch it. Or I'll have to punish you."

"Is zat not vhat you vant... Maria?" He nibbled on the lightly lacy edge of her panties. He could smell the erotic aroma of her most sacred area, the heat of her sex. His mouth was watering. He pressed a kiss to her sex, through the moist heat of her panties. He could taste her, just barely!

"Oh, Roderich. You're leeearning. Kesesese! Any more of this, and I might-mmmmmmphh..."

Good god, he had gotten her to shut up. He was tearing down her panties with his teeth, tossing them over his shoulder, and then forcing her legs wide. Her aroma, muskily sweet, filled the room. Hungary would notice. Good god, Hungary would notice. Why didn't he care? Why did he savor the idea? He looked down at her, Prussia, so damn gorgeous and completely naked before him, and he didn't give a damn about anything or anyone else in the world.

He dipped into her, making her squirm and wail his name, swirling his tongue around her sweetness until her legs went wrapping around his neck. She was a delectable forbidden fruit. The flesh of her sex was slippery, tender, quivering under his lips and tongue. Her fingers tugged violently in his hair. His hard-on swelled painfully.

"Haaaa, oh, Roderich! You stupid... stupid... stupid... god damn it, that's good!"

Suddenly, he went back to kissing her, sharing her hot juices. They kissed for a long while, Prussia's legs going around his waist. They were a splendid fit. His mind, tormented by her, fleetingly imagined a life together with her. She was an exotic animal. He would never own her, but he could love her this way, in this bed, as many times as she asked, as many times as she did require, his royal pet, his insatiable sex kitten. But...alas!

"Mein gott, I can't fucking stand you."

"I know."

"Vhy are you doing this to me? Tell me zis. Isn't there some other man you could torture zis vay, some other country? Tell me vhy! Answer me!"

She was frustratingly silent. She looked at him with those full and smiling lips. Her lip color was smeared, her face was flushed, and her chest was heaving, but she offered no answer, no consolation. He shoved himself deeply inside her. He shoved himself inside so hard that he received his answer, a sharp yelp, a gripping of the headboard. Her threw her legs over his shoulder for a deeper thrust, ravaging her in a way that made his entire body tremble. They kissed the whole while, disgustingly sloppy wet kisses, moaning into one another's mouths. Prussia tugged on Austria's hair. Good god... she felt good. She fit around him in a way that he had never felt before, like they were made to be together, like he was born to occupy her most vital regions. Pleasure was shooting through him like millions of perfect melodies, like a powerful symphonic movement.

"Move, damn you."

He rolled her to her stomach, pounding powerfully into her from behind. Already, Prussia was tightening around him, her body seizing up.

"Shit..." she whispered, then threw her head back, moaning his name to the ceiling. Her juices ran stickily between them and, almost simultaneously, clenching his teeth and grunting, Austria felt himself peak with a cosmic forces. Stars burst in his vision. He was in heaven. Good god, he was in heaven! They collapsed together, in ecstasy. They lay together in blessed silence for several minutes. He kissed her flushed forehead.

"You love me," she said. "You know you do."

"I do. Yes."

"Leave her."

"I can't."

"Arschloch." She rose, redressing with speed. "You can leave her. You just won't. And you wonder why I look for excuses to see you. Can't you see that I... that I want...! You stupid, stupid... AURGH!" She exited in a beautiful flurry.

From his window, Austria watched Prussia race across the academy grounds, her silver hair streaming in the wind behind her. He loved her. Good god! He loved her! But to keep her, as he kept Hungary, would be to destroy her. To have her would be to catch a storm in a bottle, to domesticate a prowling hunting cat.

"Stupid girl. I do zis for you. I love you as you are. Just as you are."

~Fin~