[fic] Distractions - Austria/Prussia

[drcalvin]

Title: Distractions
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Austria/Prussia
Rating: Hard R
Warnings: Spanking, dom/sub
Disclaimer: These are not my characters, I'm only borrowing them.
Note: This was written a while ago - for the anon meme, I think? But I can't find it here, so I think I forgot to post it on my LJ or something.
Summary: Pure, unashamed smut. Austria thinks that Prussia needs a bit of discipline.


A nation's life, Austria had long ago realised, was made up of short moments of frantic hurry followed by endless stretches of years where bland bosses replaced bland bosses and nothing more notable than the latest harvest occurred. Music had for him always been a solace. His calm haven when the wars were raging and his people feared. His challenging muse, when lonely years were heaped on each other.

Other nations, unfortunately, did not seem able to distract themselves with quite such harmonious occupations.

"I beg pardon for being so frank, but you must do something about that enervating brother of yours," Austria finally said, when his patience had been tried for an endless afternoon. "Prussia is getting quite out of hand these days; why, did you hear what he suggested to Vietnam just before lunch?"

Germany sighed and his frown deepened further. "I know, I know... but what am I supposed to do? He claims he's bored and yet, he hardly ever lifts a finger around the house."

"Pfah, I am surprised at such weakness from you! It takes only a firm hand and even that imbecile can be made quite useful. I managed quite well, when I had to handle him for the Holy Roman Empire."

"How? By pointing him in a new direction and saying 'attack there tomorrow'? I'm not allowed to do things that way any longer."

"There are other methods... At least, in comparison to Italy, he is inclined to do something, instead of taking day-long siestas. One must merely find ways to channel all that energy correctly."

"Fine." Germany shrugged. "Go ahead; really, if you can get him to help out at all, I'll consider myself in your debt."

Austria arched an eyebrow, the tiniest of smiles playing on his lips. "Are you saying that you give me free hands to deal with your brother?"

"Certainly. Use whatever means you can - I'll be satisfied if he at least begins to do his own laundry and cooking."

They shook hands and Austria left for his own home, humming softly. It took Germany a moment to place it, before he recognized Beethoven's fifth. He wondered why that made him feel slightly uneasy. Oh well... Prussia was a big nation, he could take care of himself.

---

"What do you want, four-eyes?" Prussia had asked when Austria called him.

When he heard that there was an entire Sachertorte risking to go to spoil, since Hungary's visit had been interrupted by a sudden engagement (a white lie, of course, but one Austria felt justified under the circumstances), he was very happy to come help Austria out.

After they had finished eating, and Prussia was picking crumbs off his plate with his bare hands, Austria felt it was time to lay forth his suggestion.

He rose from his seat to stand before his oldest friend and enemy, putting a light hand on Prussia's shoulder when the other made to stand.

"Dear me, Prussia," he murmured, "I think you have gone without proper masters for far too long."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Prussia glared up at him, suspicion written on his features.

"It means," Austria said and ran his finger down the pale cheek, "that even Germany agrees that it is time someone disciplines you. I do believe you remember what I am referring to, hmm?"

"Eve-" Prussia's eyes widened and his fists clenched tight in his lap. "What does he know!"

"Nothing," he hurried to assure Prussia, "nothing at all. However, he has given me free reign to handle you, as I see fit."
Now, he bent down, let his lips touch the shell of Prussia's ears in an almost kiss, while he pulled the riding crop from its hiding-place beneath a couch pillow.
"I do believe you recognize this?"

Austria pressed the end of the crop to Prussia's lips. He shivered with giddy delight when a nervous tongue darted out to moisten dry lips and encountered it. A sensation which made Prussia jerk back a little and swallow deeply.

"Hey... Hey, I don't have no Hapsburg prince nowadays," Prussia tried, lifting a hand as if the push away Austria. However, instead it remained there, touching his arm in a not quite caress.

"Quite so," Austria agreed. "But if it eases your mind any, feel free to consider me a stand-in for your brother." Judging from the disgusted grimace that produced, it did not seem as if the mental image made Prussia relax at all.

Smacking the crop once, sharply, against his own hand, Austria was delighted to see the reaction this provided.
He jumped, Prussia, jumped and blushed and the fidget was unmistakably connected to his rising arousal.
"Or we can just refrain from the theatrics and have you admit that you like this like little else in the world, especially when I'm holding the whip. Well?"

He punctuated the last word by flicking the crop very lightly against Prussia's cheek, and was rewarded with a tiny gasp, before the other slowly turned his head.

"You won't tell West?" Prussia whispered, looking at Austria's gloved hand hanging so temptingly in front of him.

"Never," Austria promised, "he shall only see the result and conclude it comes from me having harangued you properly."

This brought a half-grin to Prussia's face and he shook his head. "Poor West... I wonder what'll upset him more? To think that my awesome self would listen to your whining and not his, or if I'd just continue to watch telly and bug him all day?"

"You like upsetting him, don't you?"

"Second-favourite pastime," Prussia admitted, "and yeah, before you ask - this is always in the first place." The he lent forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Austria's bent hand, and Austria reacted immediately, flicking the crop sharply over Prussia's shoulder.

"I do not recall having given you permission to touch me."

"You're still gonna be so bitchy about everything?" Prussia complained and looked up at him, pouting.

It was immensely satisfying to slap the pout off his lips. "I do not recall giving you permission to address me so rudely either, cur."

"Yes, Mr Bitch, sir!" Prussia spat the words out. His cheerful obstinacy almost made Austria laugh. Oh, they had missed this, both of them.

"No more of that," he ordered. "Now stand up and remove your trousers. Hop to it!"

He did, for once obeying without complaint. Austria did not let him remove the clothes completely, but enjoyed seeing him shuffle to the bookshelf with the pants around his ankles. There, he ordered Prussia to take a firm grip and bend forward.

"Let me see that fine arch of your back," he said, rolling the shirt upwards and tucking an end of it inside the collar. So, now he could see him much better, Prussia's hardening cock and the fine line his backside made as it waited to be disciplined.

"I will hear your apologies!" Austria warned. "Apologies for your unacceptable language, your incredibly laziness and the frankly shameful way you abuse the good heart of your brother. Are you prepared to give them to me?"

Prussia laughed brashly. "What do you think? ...sir."

At first, he only lay the crop along the bottom of Prussia's buttocks, holding it there and steadying him with a hand between the shoulder blades.
"I will hear it, before I begin," he said, "to make sure you know why you are here. Well?"

An annoyed sigh and some squirming followed, but in the end, Prussia repeated his lesson back to him, with a few extra colourful words thrown in. Austria considered for a moment, then decided that since it had been so long, he could accept it. He flicked the crop, one, watching how Prussia jumped a little at the impact, before hurrying to improve his posture.

"Such a little slut," he murmured fondly. "Oh, Prussia, if only they knew..."

"I'm not- Shit!"

The crop began moving rapidly, Austria playing his skin mercilessly. It was a beautiful tune, the sharp snap of impact against Prussia's ass making the bass beat, the swish and whine of the crop flying through the air the melody and the little gasps from Prussia himself a splendid counterpoint.

"Press your legs together," Austria ordered and tapped out a variation of the tune on the back of the muscular thighs.

When Prussia cried out, he introduced another instrument to Austria's symphony, and he stepped back for a moment, critically gazing on the reddening marks he had already left. There, he should add some, and there... He smiled and slipped a hand beneath Prussia's legs, enjoying the power the other had given him and how eagerly he spread his legs to welcome the touch.

"Are you sorry?" Austria asked, mostly for forms sake. The shake of head surprised him not at all, and he nudged at the legs with the tip of his crop. "Spread them, more. And grip on the shelf above; just so, just so..."

Now, he let his hand rest on the small of Prussia's back, admiring the way the arch of his back made his red ass stand out, as if begging for more punishment. He counted silently in his head until he saw the other beginning to lose his posture and flicked the crop. Not against his ass, though, no, this time he carefully slapped the sensitive balls hanging there so unprotected.

Of course Prussia yelled out. Of course he cursed and threatened - but he held his posture throughout the next twenty beats, until Austria twirled the crop like a baton and began the next tune.

"Are you sorry?" Austria asked, raining down smacks on Prussia's ass. He struck harder now, using as much strength as he could muster and admiring the fine patter of glowing red he raised on the sensitive flesh. He began feeling warm, though he knew he looked as unaffected as when he stood in front of a great orchestra and sweated through heavy layers of fine cloth.

"Nngh..." Prussia refused to open his mouth, would not answer properly. Unacceptable.

"I think," Austria said in silken tones, "that you should count the beats now. Hmm?" He paused a moment to lay the crop against the recently abused balls and allowed himself a superior laugh when Prussia shied and almost rose to his toes to avoid it. "Count for me," he ordered, smacking him just once between the legs. "And we shall start over if you miss even one!"

"Fuck..."

"What was that?"

Hurriedly shaking his head, Prussia answered. "Nothing, sir, nothing."

"It had better not be." He kissed him, rained a few light kisses down his spine and felt how Prussia shifted nervously beneath him. "Such a fine little slut. Now, count for me."

"One- Aw fuck!"

"That's not a counting word I know," Austria said, not stopping his crop for a moment. "From the top, please."

It took them three tries to get to ten, but once Prussia had found his rhythm, he proved nice and steady at holding it. He was trembling by now, though, trembling and rocking his hips between the smacks and when he was almost sobbing the numbers out, Austria deemed it time to move on.

"Th- thirty-seven!" he moaned, ass glowing such a beautiful red that Austria could barely keep his hands off it.

"Come now, my dear," Austria said encouragingly, pausing the beating for a moment, "if you can make it to fifty, we shall move to the sofa."

The number made him groan pitifully, but Prussia soldiered on. He was so good that Austria even decided to ignore that he had missed forty-three, and only laid the last lick of the crop a little harsher to make up for it.

He was shaking quite badly by now, Prussia, and his eyes were almost glassy with pleasure. It was a much enjoyable experience to lead him back to the couch, for he stumbled on his trousers again and again. Every time he so did, he rubbed against Austria, moaning lowly and searching for means to prolong the contact.

"My pretty little slut," Austria whispered, feeling his own cock having grown into full hardness, "I'd forgotten how enjoyable you were."

Prussia's eyes were closed and his face had a lovely deep flush of pleasure. "Sir," he breathed, "please..."

"Ah, ah, ah!" Austria tapped him in the face with the crop and then had to steel himself from just ravishing Prussia then and there, when the other's knees buckled and his mouth opened in a soundless plea.

"Are you sorry?" Austria asked, knowing that his own voice was trembling, but as unable to stop this as he was to stop fondling Prussia's abused ass.

The lovely creature in his arms cackled breathlessly and shook his head. "No, not. Ahh, not really..."

"You will be," Austria promised. They had made it to the couch and he hurried to dig out the further surprises he had put in wait there.

"Over my knees," he ordered, pulling Prussia down and placing him there. "And don't you dare come - or perhaps I will let slip to Germany how I deal with his brother, hmm?"

If Prussia wanted to say something in protest to this threat, he did not how the chance. While he spoke, Austria slipped a lubed finger inside Prussia's ass. Whatever words he had been trying to form changed into another needy moan and Austria smirked when he felt Prussia open up so nicely for him.
"See," he said and generously lubed the little butt-plug, "I knew you were just a slut. Who have you let play with you since you left me, hmm?"

Prussia squirmed and moaned, rocking wantonly against his leg when Austria began inserting the plug.
"Well?" he demanded, realizing that he really was curious - and, perhaps, though he tried not to think too deeply of it, jealous - of whom else Prussia dared reveal himself to.

"No- nobody," the other finally admitted, just as Austria pushed the plug in the last bit and felt his flesh close around the narrowed end, so that only the round little handle stuck out.
"I've... played by myself," Prussia mumbled grabbing onto the couch to steady himself. Perhaps, Austria thought as an odd swell of fondness rushed him, to hide a little, too.

"I'm happy to hear that, dearest," he admitted, "though I do wish you had found company for all these years."

"Like being alone," Prussia muttered, "'m awesome enough for myself!" Now he was definitely hiding his face against a pillow.

Austria let it pass without comment, though he put a comforting arm over Prussia's back.
"Don't press so against the pillow," he ordered him, "I want to hear my pretty little slut sing for me."

Then he began spanking him, marvelling at how perfect it was to feel that firm flesh beneath his bare hands again. Sometimes he cupped Prussia's ass, squeezing and rolling the flesh beneath his hand. For a few smacks, he used the great ornamental silver spoon he'd kept on his table for close to a hundred years, loving the different tenor it gave Prussia's moans... but most of all, he hit him with his bare hand.

Austria spanked him, until his own hand was beginning to grow hot and tender from the impact and Prussia was boneless in his lap, soft and pliable all over except where his hard cock rocked against Austria's leg. He spanked him, listened to his gasps turn wetter. Heard him babble and cry out as the plug inside his ass moved with each hit, pushing inside him and stimulating him to a maddening degree. He listened and enjoyed how the man in his lap lost all sense and pride, until he was only a sobbing mess in Austria's hands, knowing nothing but pleasure and submission.

He wanted to come, Austria, he wanted to push himself into that waiting hole and fuck Prussia raw until he himself forgot everything, but he forced some semblance of control over his voice. The conductor, after all, must never forget the tune, no matter how passionate the orchestra is playing...

"Are you sorry?"

"Yes!" Prussia almost howled, "yes, yes, sir!"
His voice broke and he began crying in earnest, moving frantically against Austria's legs. He whined and begged most sweetly. Though Austria would once have continued the beating until he had heard the exact words of apology repeated from Prussia, he realized that such fine-tuning would have to wait until the next time.

"On your knees, slut," he hissed, pushing Prussia to the floor. The other man was shaking and sobbing, but bless his horny little mind, he still remembered what position to take. Forehead pressed against the carpet, arms and elbows flat beside his head, and his ass lifted high, eagerly awaiting his master.

Austria almost stumbled on his own trousers this time, pulling them off with haste as he made to kneel behind Prussia. He pulled the plug out of his well-abused ass with one smooth movement. Then, with the last of his self-control, he paused, cock pushing against that tempting little hole and grasped Prussia's hips.

"Slut," he whispered, "my own, most precious, slut."
Sure enough, those words were enough to release a torrent of half-formed words; a babble of pleading and begging that all boiled down to one thing... That Prussia was his alone, always, and that they both knew it perfectly well.

He fucked him hard, feeling the delicious burning friction as he pressed inside his asshole after such a long wait, enjoying how Prussia practically wailed in pleasure beneath him and rocked backwards to meet him. He was so eager, always, taking Austria to the hilt and sobbing in disappointment when he withdrew again.

Austria meanwhile couldn't help himself either, couldn't stop the little endearments falling from his mouth, applauds for a masterful performance - sweetest, dearest, mine treasure, mine, mine, mine...

Far before he wished it, but unable to resist after so long, he felt his climax come closer. He hurried to fuck the other nation even harder, to rake his nails along the globe of Prussia's prepared ass and ordering him to come, come now! with his last breath before he exploded into pleasure and lost all sense and sanity.

He was still rocking slowly inside Prussia when he came down from that white-hot moment, his slackening cock surrounded by hot flesh and his hands holding those slim hops tight enough to bruise.

"So good," Austria crooned, withdrew, and gathered the limp Prussia in his arms. "You're still so sweet in your pain, my dearest slut."

Weak laughter, and then Prussia's sweaty arms went round his neck, as the other man nestled against him and hid his sobs.

"Shh," he whispered, stroking the back of his head, holding and comforting Prussia with an old familiarity he thought he had forgotten. "Shh, you did so well, Prussia."
He kissed his temple, held him close and felt how tenderness swelled inside him as Prussia came down from his own high. Austria remembered this too, how it was for him afterwards. The shame of his perceived weakness, the memory of complete pleasure, both tore at Prussia with equal strength.

They sat so for a while, until Prussia sniffled a final time and rubbed his nose against Austria's suit jacked. He winced, but allowed it, The garment was sweated through anyway and he had no wish whatsoever to explain to his staff how that had happened.

"Come on," he whispered, "let us clean ourselves up a bit." The worry about his jacket sparked another memory in his mind and his lips curled in a wicked little smile. "And then, we'll see how sincere your apologies were."

"Huh?"

The confusion on his face was so adorable, that Austria could not help but kiss the tip of his nose, and he pulled Prussia up. Before they left, he gathered their discarded clothing and pushed it into Prussia's arms, before leading him to the bathroom - one hand holding his, the other resting possessively on the bruised skin of his ass.

"Why, I hope you have not forgotten already that I did this on request of your brother. And I specifically recall him mentioning laundry."

Though still a little unsteady on his feet, Prussia was fully capable of rolling his eyes and snorting by now. "That's West alright; I think the smell of soap turns him on, or something."

"I have to admit," Austria said with studied carelessness, "that the image of you washing my clothes - by hand, of course, this is pure silk - wearing nothing but one of Hungary's old aprons, does possess a certain charm..."

~ The End ~

Comments

Re: Sorry couldn't read this right now, but--

[drcalvin.livejournal.com]

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