Chapter Text
“Oh, now, look at that. That is interesting…”
France was musing away behind England’s back, the tone baiting. Not having the energy to fully humour the nation, England twisted his neck to glare.
“What is it?” Prussia asked from above.
“It seems that England is awfully loose around this vibrator. It’s supposed to be extra large, but perhaps the day has been too eventful. Though, with how much he gets around, perhaps he’s always like this nowadays. Poor dear, you must be feeling rather unsatisfied with just this inside you. Do tell me if you’d like something bigger.”
England growled. The vibrator, which was causing a stinging stretch in his sphincter, was certainly not loose, and he resented the implication - especially when not everyone in the room would detect the jest in France's tone. “You’re obviously projecting, frog. Some of us have hobbies other than fucking. If you want to see a loose whore, look in a mirror.”
France only hummed in response, as if deep in thought. There was a rush of wind, and the vibrating pleasure within his ass was gone. “Perhaps we should move on, before you get so loose that I can’t enjoy you at all. That is, if Prussia does not mind taking your mouth.”
England bit his tongue to prevent an unhappy groan - he did not want France knowing how much everything was getting to him.
“That's fine, as long as he knows how to put it to good use,” Prussia stood suddenly, dropping England to the floor. Disgruntled, the Brit tried to stand, but there were already two grips manhandling him into position. In front of his eyes, a zipper was being undone. “Open up.”
The carpet was rough beneath his tired knees, and England would have much preferred to still be on Prussia's warm and firm lap, as brief as that reprieve had been. Still, he did as told, far past the point of worrying what he was putting in his mouth, though feeling a little vulnerable holding the submissive position. Prussia extracted himself from his boxers, already hard, and determined to show that he did in fact know how to put his mouth to very good use, England descended greedily upon the shaft, relishing in the strangled gasp and muttered curse from above as he began working his tongue. Behind him he could hear fabric rustling, and it was no surprise when France slid slowly into him with a satisfied groan. It did, however, go straight to his aching cock, so sensitive in its bindings that even the air brushing past it was beginning to get to him. Without meaning to, he whined into Prussia’s crotch.
“Is it starting to hurt?” France murmured, voice dripping with false concern. To England’s horror he reached for his straining member, the touch nearly making him scream. Just barely he held it together, conscious that they were not alone. He almost pulled away from Prussia to complain, but thought better of it. For one thing, his face against Prussia’s navel was all that was keeping him balanced with his hands still chained behind his back. For another, the pair would have to let him cum at some point. A cock ring couldn’t be worn forever, and as much as France teased him, he would never wish serious harm on him. Not, at least, in today's age. It was reasonable to assume that the faster he brought them to orgasm, the faster they would let him have his own release. That in mind, he increased his efforts on both ends, but paying particular attention to his rear, pulsing and thrusting and doing everything he could to make France come undone. Prussia, he knew, would be easier. Compared to France, the dead nation did not get a lot of action.
“What a good boy you are when you have a reason to work for it," France croaked irritatingly. "You want your reward, hm? You’ll have it soon.”
England yelled around Prussia’s cock (but managed not to bite) when his crotch was grabbed again. This time France gave him a series of firm strokes, an agony that made his head swim and brought him swiftly to a point where he was barely aware of his surroundings. Everything - the watching nations, the warm bodies thrusting into him, even the ground beneath his knees - faded away into the distance. Soon there was nothing but sensation, intense and overwhelming, only muscle memory keeping him moving.
He only vaguely registered when Prussia pulled away from him, an arm on his shoulder keeping his torso suspended. He knew somewhere deep inside that that wasn’t quite right - the other nation had not climaxed. It all clicked when something warm and wet splattered across his face, and he hissed in displeasure, trying to shake himself from Prussia’s grip. Disgusting. The nation didn't release him right away, tilting England’s chin up with a firm grip between finger and thumb, presumably admiring his handiwork. When he let go it was without warning, and with no arms to catch himself, England fell chest first to the floor, feeling not unlike a discarded toy.
France tutted, petting England’s back. “How crass - and when you were so good for him. You poor thing.”
As if you’re much kinder, England thought grumpily, but he did not vocalise his complaint. He'd already melted back into a world of hazy pleasure, ignoring the sticky mess dripping from his eyebrow and crawling down to his jaw. He’d break Prussia’s nose later. For now he could only drool helplessly onto the carpet as France rocked him from behind until at last the nation stiffened inside him, ejaculating with a groan and pulling out gently.
Carefully, England was rolled onto his back, which was uncomfortable with his arms trapped behind him, but bearable. With warm hands, France spread England’s thighs, revealing the full extent of his desperation to everyone. Embarrassed and barely clinging to his sanity, England tucked his face into his shoulder, hiding his blush.
“There, there,” France cooed. “You seem ready to burst, hm? Would you like to cum?”
“Obviously,” England tried to growl, but it came out as a rather pathetic whine, and France chuckled condescendingly.
“Manners. You should ask me politely.”
England did not want to give in to such a demand. Not something so humiliating, not in front of witnesses, and not for France. But he was far, far past the point of playing games. The pressure around his cock was painful, every sensation magnified a thousand times over. He was no longer above begging. At least, he remembered, France had always been easily satisfied.
“Please.”
His voice betrayed his desperation, but as he suspected, one word was all it took. The older nation looked delighted to be obliged, and with gentle fingers he slid the cock ring up and off England’s erection. The relief was instantaneous, and with a loud cry that bordered on a scream he climaxed on the spot, gyrating his hips into thin air and twisting on the carpet in a way that would certainly leave him with shoulder burns.
The high was intense, and the comedown was slow. Finding himself barely able to keep his lids open, he relaxed his muscles with a contented sigh, melting into the ground. With his eyes shut to the world, the scene around him only grew further away. Sounds were fuzzy, sensations alien. Someone was turning him over, unhooking his wrists from their bindings, and he did not mind the ache in his shoulders as they returned to a comfortable position. Strong arms - Germany’s, by the feel of them - lifted him, and then he was back in the bed where it had all started, the duvet draped over him and tucked up to his chin, a warm towel wiping the mess from his face.
“Get some sleep,” France murmured into his ear. He was close enough that England could just hear him, despite his mind being elsewhere. “We have more guests coming. You’ll want to be rested for them.”
England chose not to worry about that. Spent, drained and exhausted, he sank gladly into sleep.