queenoflogs | Failed domesticity

Entry tags:

Failed domesticity

Characters: Prussia, and anyone else!
Date: After the fair.
Summary: Not everyone is happy by the change in weather.
Warnings: None yet.

Fall is here, and leaves are in the air. And on the ground. And some are drifting peacefully in the streams were Prussia's trying her hardest to wash her clothes. Someone looks quite unprepared for the change in weather, punctuated by how her jacket is hanging on one of the higher branches on the now almost bare branches. Out of reach.

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For a moment, England couldn't speak. She had to close her eyes and take in a deep breath to keep herself from admitting her feelings by doing something stupid like blushing.

"I suppose you are right. And I guess that's what makes it fun."

"The moment we stop wanting, we die. Perhaps it's not so different from fighting," this logic of hers skipped the expanse of history other had had through neutrality or indifference, but Prussia had never been a fan of either. She reached forward for England's pale, long hair, taking one damp lock between her fingers, "And I bet you've wanted something desperately, before."

"You don't know how badly," she replied without meaning to. But England could not help herself, especially when Prussia was looking at her like that. She loved America, she loved France (much to her disgust), but even more, she loved Prussia. It was a different kind of love, a burning want, the want that Prussia was talking about. And the other nation had always seemed so impossible to catch, always doing her own thing, sometimes within an arm's reach, and sometimes miles away. She drove England crazy in so many ways.

That reply was unexpected, but Prussia had never been one to read in advance into one's reactions. She knew she was shallow like that, and she had never given it much thought before. The earnest, sharp response took her by surprise.

She blinked once, noting how the damp end of England's hair was still wrapped about her fingers. What had she been getting at before? Quietly, she stroked a thumb across the sleek texture. England's eyes were still close, fine, delicate lines touched her pale lids.

"I suppose I was right, after all."

England quickly averted her eyes, embarrassed, and knowing her blush gave her away. Don't tease me, she thought, just waiting for Prussia to laugh the whole awkward tension off. This was serious to her, had been for centuries. And now it was so close, England could almost taste it.

She should have pulled away right then and there, like she always did. It was a defense mechanism, a way to keep herself from getting hurt again. Did she dare risk chasing Prussia away? By admitting her feelings, would she ruin what friendship they already had? It scared England how easily she would give in to the other country.

"So..." she finally managed to squeak out, still keeping her gaze down. "What else do you want that you can't have?"

"Lovers," Prussia admitted all too easily. The comfortable display of shallowness came to her with ease, so naturally, "power, land, fame. Whatever isn't in my hands currently. We're never satisfied for long, but it's a start, and it sates something."

She looked away, however, her fingers relaxing around England's hair. It was really lovers that she couldn't have.

And England had to keep herself from blurting out anything that might give her away, lest Prussia consider her weak. Instead, she teased, another defense mechanism.

"Lovers? Someone like you is concerned with such a trivial thing as that?" She grinned, lifting her head again. "I didn't think you had the capacity to care for someone other than yourself."

"And why should I?" she made a show of adjusting her new robe over her shoulders once more. "The amount of work, really! Being adored, on the other hand, I would never refuse that. It's trivial, but I can be greedy like that," she continued, undisturbed by this stream of honesty. Now, to specify the source of affection would have been another, tongue tying matter entirely.

A typical Prussia example. England brought her knuckles to her lips, chuckling slightly. "So, just the sex without the commitment." Blunt.

"I'm not Austria," she sighed theatrically, "I wasn't made for wedding rings, but I do have my needs."

It was quite a shame to hear that, as England did believe in romance. Her love for Prussia was not only based on her power, but other things, things that England had tried to deny for centuries. She hung her head a little, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Don't we all?"

But before Prussia could answer, England was suddenly in her personal space, smirking softly, wet hair clinging to her face and lime-colored eyes narrowed. She supposed lust was alright. She'd kept the love hidden for years, but the chance to be intimate with Prussia was enough for the time being. A friend with benefits? Something like that. That was the time-period England was from. It was all about free love and experimentation. And so she allowed her fingertips to rest on Prussia's pale thigh.

There was a whiff of something faintly floral and sweet before England's hair tickled her face, the pale locks of her fringe brushing against Prussia's forehead. She felt the roughened fingertips sink into her legs, before the rest of England's weight followed.

It was her own hand on the cloth robed arm of England, pulling her closer, firmly, Was it to keep the other from changing her mind as her Prussia's lips met hers? The scent became slightly sharper, intensified by the wetness of England's hair and skin. She braced herself for the upcoming shove, but for the moment, her lips seared against England's, hard.

When Prussia consented, England's heart swelled so much she thought it might pop like a balloon. She returned the kiss with just as much passion, groaning faintly as her chest brushed up against the other's. It wasn't long before she slid her arms around Prussia's shoulders and moved to get into her lap. England was hungry for this, and it was a bit too apparent.

There was no shyness, no coy glances or instinctive flinches on England's part, which prompted Prussia to reach with her free hand to cup the back of her head. She hardly felt the weight settling on her lap, just the warmth and the scent and the evaporating dampness. And then there were teeth and nips she could swear were her own, but she wasn't sure anymore.

There was a careful, nagging voice at the back of her head, more concerned with the impulsiveness of this act, but it was swiftly silenced as the intimacy of another person became too real to bother with it.

There was no time for concern. England was usually extremely cautious, always looking before she leaped. But this... She couldn't stop herself from this. She dropped a hand to smooth down Prussia's chest and then nuzzled at her neck.

I love you. I need you.

The warmth was gone from Prussia's lips, replaced by the cool autumn air, and a ticklish sensation at her neck. Blindly, she sought the hand on her chest, her own resting on England's wrist, yet not wrenching it away.

They could go about this quietly, but she was never one for leaning back and letting things take their course gently. Her hand lingered there, the other using the back of England's head to bring her up for another kiss, more insistent and less patient. This had the element of surprise in it, with nothing of the tentative sweetness from before.

England was expecting Prussia to be rough anyway, and it thrilled her. She pressed against Prussia again as she deepened the kiss and gave the breast in her hand an experimental squeeze.

There was a stifled noise at the back of her throat. She had kept her eyes open all the way, watching the change in color on England's fair face. Prussia had been caught by surprise, and her shoulders trembled slightly with the effort to stay still, momentarily. Breaking the kiss at last, she gave a nip to England's lower lip, tugging and pulling between her teeth.

Her own face must be so pink by now, she reasoned, but she was more intrigued by the other nation's boldness.

Perhaps it was because of the time period England was from that made her so bold. Or it could have been the fact that she had wanted this for so long. And now that she finally had Prussia's consent, she was ready to explode. When they separated from the kiss, England kept a wanton gaze on her fellow country.

Her blush darkened as she gave another squeeze, this one more firm and calculated than the last. Once her lip was finally free, she leaned close again, licking the shell of Prussia's ear before speaking in a whisper. "Let me be your lover. For as long as you want." At first, England worried that she had said too much, but then she felt the warmth of Prussia's skin against hers, and she tipped them onto the ground.

At last, at last...

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Failed domesticity

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