a/n: thank you Daisies and Tamer Lorika for your lovely reviews! Oh and yes, fool moon is an intended misspelling that will be explained soon.
Prussia feels absurdly helpless in his human form. A shiver goes down his spine as he observes Austria's finely shaped ass. The brunette walks in front of him and the navy blue material of his trousers cling to his hips and derrière, leaving little to the imagination.
"You like what you see?" Austria asks, disrupting Prussia's train of thought and he gulps nervously.
"I wasn't looking at anything in particular," Prussia replies defensively and it is painfully obvious that he's lying.
"Oh really," the brunette smiles as he heads toward a darkened alleyway. The town is deserted because the water in the wells have run dry so he isn't too worried about any one finding them. At least, not yet.
Prussia follows the violet eyed witch, shifting uneasily underneath the cloak. He feels weak and it's not from being in his human form, but rather, from fighting that goddamned powerful blonde familiar and barely escaping with his life. Austria pushes him against the cold stone wall and he grunts, knees feeling slightly shaky.
"Prussia," Austria snaps his fingers and from out of nowhere, something that looks like a table in the darkness appears and the brunette helps the albino on to it. He reaches for his trusty rifle and with a smirk, presses it to the his familiar's lips. "Slick this up."
The albino looks at him, horrified as ropes magically find their way around his wrists, binding them together. He feels his head starting to spin and complies slowly, licking the cool metal, taking it in his mouth, not even thinking about how dangerous it was because it was loaded.
Austria removes the rifle when he finds that it has been slicked up enough and tugs at the string of the cloak, throwing it aside. Prussia gives out a soft cry as the cold assaults his bare skin and the brunette pushes his legs apart, finding the albino's entrance, pushing the rifle forward slowly into the tight ring of muscle as he moans, muttering a string of incoherent words, begging the violet eyed witch to move faster as he withdraws it. When the brunette rams the rifle up his ass again, Prussia's hips jerk forward, cock desperately seeking the friction needed to send him over the edge as the muzzle of the rifle hits his prostate.
"Suck me off," Austria orders, holding the rifle in place, stopping a few millimetres shy of Prussia's prostate.
Prussia moans and shifts his hips but it is useless, with his wrists bound, there is no way he can move... Nor shapeshift. He hates how Austria saw that coming and when the brunette presses his cock to the albino's lips, he gives a startled cry and taking the opportunity, the violet eyed man forces his jaw wide open and thrusts into his mouth. The albino's first instinct is to bite down on the appendage but the brunette's fingers on his jaw prevent him from doing so. Austria pushes the rifle in a little more and it hits that sweet spot within Prussia and he moans, delicious vibrations causing the brunette to moan as well.
"Prussia," Austria groans as the albino slides his tongue, rubbing against the underside of his cock. "Do not forget that the rifle is loaded."
Prussia's crimson eyes flash with fear as Austria withdraws from his mouth. The rifle was loaded, if the brunette fired and he would be fatally injured - it didn't matter if his fingers were on the trigger or not, witches could manipulate just about anything with magic - but all that had been loaded in that rifle were magical bullets meant to bind... Right? Strangely, Prussia feels himself getting more aroused by the thought - hasn't he always loved the thrill? - as the brunette's cock leaves his mouth. His presses his tongue to the violet eyed witch's slit, licking slowly, then quickly and engulfs the appendage in his mouth again.
Austria thrusts hard and fast into the wet heat of Prussia's mouth. How long has it been since he has felt this good? He cannot remember but it doesn't matter becau-
The albino almost gags as the brunette goes over the edge.
"Swallow," Austria commands and Prussia complies because there is no other way about it. He yelps as he feels Austria's power filling him and warmth spreads over him. The violet eyed witch withdraws the rifle and pushes it in again repeatedly, hitting the albino's sweet spot and he reaches for Prussia's cock. With a few haphazard strokes, the albino climaxes with a soft cry as his world fades slowly to black.
After a while, Prussia stirs, finding himself in Austria's arms. They are in a room without a window, a solitary candle lighting it as Austria strokes his hair. He looks up at the brunette, eyes narrowed and the violet eyed witch sighs.
"You were injured. How did it happen?"
Prussia tries to remove himself from Austria's embrace but he finds himself too tired to do so.
"Rest," Austria says softly. "I shall restore your power tomorrow and you will tell me about it then."
"Show yourself," England's voice is monotonous as he stares into the darkness. He's sitting on a plush chair that he obtained some hundred years back - they called it Busby's Chair and said it was cursed but strangely, it seemed to bring him good luck - and his legs are crossed as he sips some tea.
America emerges from the shadows with a wry smile on his lips. "So I couldn't hide," he walks closer and England rolls his eyes.
"Bloody fool," England walks over to America and reaches to caress his cheek. "You're hurt. What happened?"
The strawberry blonde winces as England's thumb brushes across a small wound. "Canada's taken," he speaks with contempt as England raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "The bitch became someone's familiar and attacked me," America sees a spot of soft skin on England's neck, hidden just by his collar and he groans, willing the hunger to contain itself.
"I see," England mutters, distracted. He knows the time has come for him, the mere fact that the familiar that had served him for the last thousand years had died was proof of it. He shivers as he thinks of how he has hidden himself from the War Games all these years. With a new familiar, he has to take part...
"England?" America asks and the sandy blonde jumps, awakened from his reverie. Somehow something about England looks strange to him tonight. It isn't just about how appealing he usually looks, his skin has an unearthly glow that makes America's mouth water because he looks so delicious... He feels his fangs extending as he struggles to fight against the hunger - damn that Canada, how the fuck did he get so powerful? - but the way England's soft pink lips are parted makes it an impossible task.
The emerald eyed witch turns to America and smiles. "Suck me," he undoes his trousers and the strawberry blonde stares at him, confused.
"But England, I-" America begins to protest but England cuts him off.
"If you're going to complain about how you're not my familiar and how you shouldn't be taking anything from me, do remember that it's your fault because you were a sodding git and insisted that becoming my familiar meant you were becoming my servant," England speaks as if he's talking about something as mundane as the weather as he pushes America down to his knees. "And if you're going to ask if I'm afraid that you'll eat me, my answer is no. I trust you."
America stays quiet as he processes England's words and stares at the sandy blonde's erection, feeling the hunger scream at him to take England, take everything he had to offer, to take-
England presses his cock to America's lips and the strawberry blonde finds all rational thought leaving his head, except for the lone sentence of I must not eat England. Which is rather ironic, given how he is going to eat him anyway, metaphorically speaking.
America touches his tongue to the tip of England's cock, swirling it, dipping his tongue in the sandy blonde's already leaking slit. The taste of the emerald eyed witch is intoxicating and soon America finds himself sucking at the appendage, taking more into his mouth, using his tongue to create more friction before returning to the tip, alternating between flicking his tongue over it and using his rough fingertips to tease it.
It isn't long before England spills his seed in America's mouth with a soft, muffled cry. The strawberry blonde fights hard against his reflex to bite down as he swallows and feels his hunger being satiated slowly, reassuringly in a way that was distinctively England.
England pulls out after a while and rights his clothing while America stays quivering on the ground. "Better?" he asks, breathing heavily and the strawberry blonde nods numbly.
"I didn't have to take your power," America examines the ground as if it's the most interesting thing ever and the words 'to satisfy my hunger' linger in the air, unsaid.
The sandy blonde shrugs. "You're here now, aren't you?" he asks and America sighs. "Besides, I've taken enough power from you. It's time I gave you something in return."
"You could've given me your blood then," the strawberry blonde says drily, knowing fully well that with blood, they ran a higher risk for he might accidentally (on purpose?) suck the witch dry.
"Of course," England nods. "Just like how you could've given me yours."
America doesn't reply as he thinks of how he keeps going to England to give him power, how each time he climaxes within the emerald eyed witch, he gives him a part of him because he doesn't want him to forget him and because the power that comes from feeding is overwhelming. It pushes him to the brink of insanity and he thinks that it is a miracle that he's still alive and England, he takes, he takes and he takes because America can give and needs to give. Sometimes, the strawberry blonde wonders if like him, the witch is too, insatiable but most of the time, he wonders how long can England take it. He tries to be gentle each time they fuck - it can't be called anything else - but most of the time the thrill of having fed and needing to have to feed again makes him forget. He thinks of how soon, the hunger will return and he thinks of Canada. Canada, his beloved brother. He has never seen the hunger in Canada's eyes before, because he suppresses the hunger well, very well. And yet when he attacked him, the feral look in his blue eyes told him that he was starving...
"I think Canada's witch is raping him," the strawberry blonde looks up at England.
The sandy blonde holds his gaze, waiting for him to continue.
"The witch feeds him, then milks him until he's dry only to force him to feed again. He's taking his power away," America's voice is reduced to a quiet whisper, knowing what will happen to Canada if the cycle continued.
England doesn't ask how America knows. The strawberry blonde knows only because he has experimented with his brother without his permission, with disastrous consequences. America reaches for England's hand and holds it. The contact is brief as he squeezes his hand.
"England," America bites his lip. "Will you help me find him?"
The emerald eyed witch nods. "I will, America," he looks out of the window, observing the still fool moon. "Now go, before my familiar wakes."
The strawberry blonde obeys, feeling the hunger scream at him to feed it by eating England and he pushes it down and beats it back to the dark corners of his mind.
America has to feed soon, again, but with England's powers rushing through his veins, he can wait, at least, for a little while, even with a fool moon. Because America is a wendingo, and so is Canada.
a/n: well uhhhh basically sex and blood is a way of transmitting power. review?