It seemed like a crazy dream, that wetness inside, taste of blood and vodka in his mouth, strong hand around his length- and his own hand moving to close around that big one, not quite trembling but not completely steady either.
Russia leaned over him and kissed blond hair, nuzzling slender neck with his nose, being dangerously tender and expectedly brutal when he pushed in merely seconds later.
Feliks wanted to bite something, anything, just to stop the scream from coming out and soon he found himself with mouth full of familiar scarf, still tied to his wrist. He could hear the moan and the heavy breathing, feel the erratic heartbeat and he gloated over it.
“We shouldn’t fight anymore, Feliks,” panted Russia when he went all the way inside. “We’re family. We’re brothers.”
Poland’s groan was muffled by the scarf in his mouth, but Ivan heard it anyway. He brushed strong fingers over the neck he had been grasping earlier, put his other arm around Feliks’ waist and smiled into the blond hair.
“My bratya, Polsha. My bratya.”
And then he began to move. Not giving the other man any time to adjust to the quick pace, he moved almost completely out and thrust inside, and tugged with one hand on the Poland’s hair.
Feliks gasped when his head was jerked back and he clenched his teeth more firmly on the material, feeling the deep of Russia’s thrust. He blinked hazily when he felt hot tongue on his cheek before he realized that that bastard was searching for tears.
Russia growled and let go of his hair only to pull on the scarf, trying to remove it from Feliks' mouth. Blond didn’t fight it and immediately let go, but not before he thrust back himself just when Ivan was thrusting in, the sensation making both of them groan.
Re: Russia/Poland - hatesex [5/?]
Russia leaned over him and kissed blond hair, nuzzling slender neck with his nose, being dangerously tender and expectedly brutal when he pushed in merely seconds later.
Feliks wanted to bite something, anything, just to stop the scream from coming out and soon he found himself with mouth full of familiar scarf, still tied to his wrist. He could hear the moan and the heavy breathing, feel the erratic heartbeat and he gloated over it.
“We shouldn’t fight anymore, Feliks,” panted Russia when he went all the way inside. “We’re family. We’re brothers.”
Poland’s groan was muffled by the scarf in his mouth, but Ivan heard it anyway. He brushed strong fingers over the neck he had been grasping earlier, put his other arm around Feliks’ waist and smiled into the blond hair.
“My bratya, Polsha. My bratya.”
And then he began to move. Not giving the other man any time to adjust to the quick pace, he moved almost completely out and thrust inside, and tugged with one hand on the Poland’s hair.
Feliks gasped when his head was jerked back and he clenched his teeth more firmly on the material, feeling the deep of Russia’s thrust. He blinked hazily when he felt hot tongue on his cheek before he realized that that bastard was searching for tears.
Russia growled and let go of his hair only to pull on the scarf, trying to remove it from Feliks' mouth. Blond didn’t fight it and immediately let go, but not before he thrust back himself just when Ivan was thrusting in, the sensation making both of them groan.