Germany left his gloves after the world meeting, Poland found it and fantasized ( or remembered the invasion of Poland (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invasion_of_Poland_(1939)) ). Bonus: if Germany came back for his piece of clothes.
Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (1/2)
Poland glanced nervously around the meeting room, but it was deserted; he was alone. He crept forward and stared.
It couldn't be - he was too careful, too fastidious to accidentally leave anything - but he had.
No one else's gloves looked like that. No one else folded their gloves like that. Poland bit his lip and traced the edge of the smooth black leather with one fingertip.
He shivered.
He couldn't. He couldn't possibly -
He pulled his hand back, clenching his fists at his sides.
They were right there. He couldn't not.
Carefully, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head. He toed off his shoes and socks, and removed his pants, and set everything carefully off in a corner. Completely naked, he sat down in Germany's chair and lifted one glove to his face, inhaling deeply.
Leather. And oil. And memories.
Gunpowder. Smoke. The frantic thrill of terror pounding in his veins -
The glove fell away from his face as he gasped, landing innocuously on the table.
Poland swallowed compulsively, his heart pounding like cannon fire, and ever-so-slowly slipped his hand into the glove. It fit like - like it was his.
Ohgodohgodwhatwashedoingohgod -
He pulled on the other glove.
His left hand drifted to sac, the glove just-cooler-than-skin, but warming, and squeezed. He wrapped his other hand around himself and started to stroke.
Oh.
Oh yes.
It wasn't his hand, it was that hand, that glove, gripping him and using him, painful and precise, that callous calculated violence -
Overwhelming him, awful and devastating and electrifying, the lightning war -
He moved the hand on his stones farther back and shoved two fingers in, crying out as he pumped them in and out, twisted, as rough as He would be, as rough as He was, forcing his way inside Poland, beating him and taking him -
blood and sweat, desperate and scrambling and brutal, distant screaming and rattling artillery, nails raking his skin, marking him like tanks tracks rolling across the earth -
"I believe," announced a cold, cruel voice, "that those are mine."
Poland winced as he clamped down on his fingers in terror. His eyes flew open and he whimpered, staring straight into the palest, iciest blue eyes in Europe.
"I'm - I'm s-sorry -" he stammered, exposed and terrified.
"I didn't give you permission to talk," Germany growled. Poland shook.
Germany strode across the room, beautiful and terrible and inexorable -
The back of his bare hand cracked against Poland's cheek, stinging so hard it brought tears to his eyes, and he bit his lip until he tasted blood because he wasn't allowed to talk, could't let himself say yes, thank you, perfect -
"Get out of my chair." The order was as hard as another slap, the sharp smack of a riding crop in the air. Poland scrambled to obey.
Germany leisurely settled himself into the chair, his posture too perfect to really recline, pushing the chair away from the table.
"Kneel in front me." Germany smiled, just a little, like it pleased him when the universe operated properly. Poland knelt.
"Hands behind your back. Hold your right wrist in your left fist. Good. Now. Bend forward and lick my boots."
Poland has never been this hard.
Nasty and bitter, oil and meticulously applied shoe polish, smooth and tough as he laved them, trying to get the taste on as much of his tongue as he can. He slid his tongue around the bottom edge, the only place the boots are even a little dirty, dust and grit repulsive and he fought to keep from gagging -
Germany's foot swung forward, a small, casual, careless kick with the boots' steel toes that knocked one of Poland's teeth loose and bloodied his mouth further.
Germany doesn't say what that was punishment for. It wasn't punishment for anything. He just felt like it.
Germany didn't tell him to stop.
So when Poland could gulp back the bile that threatened to rise and mingle with the blood, he leaned down keeps licking the boot Germany kicked him with.
"Oh. Very nice," Germany murmured, wickedly amused. "Sit up."
Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
Poland moved back to his kneeling position. His eyes were on level with Germany's lap. For all his composure, Germany wanted him.
"You will address me as der Herr or Herr Fatherland. You may request a reward for that little stunt."
Poland whimpered.
"Please. Please, Herr Fatherland, use me. Let me. Let me pleasure you, Herr Fatherland -"
"Silence."
Poland's mouth snapped shut.
Germany deftly unbuckled his belt, pulling it tortuously slowly from its loops. He hefted the sinuous strap in his hands contemplatively, absently winding the soft end around one of his hands. He snapped his arm up, out and down, sending the metal buckle slamming into Poland's back before it slid over the curve of his bare shoulder and clattered between the on the floor. Germany flicked opened his trousers and pulled his cock out, heavy and dark with blood. He gave it a few distant, pensive strokes.
"Spread your knees. Wider. Yes."
Poland's muscles ached with the strain of holding the new position, but he bit his cheek to keep from groaning.
Silence.
"Oh, very well," Germany mused. "Suck, miststück." Bitch.
Poland's mouth watered. His thighs burned as he leaned forward again, Germany's immaculately trouser-clad knees jabbing his chest as he stretched himself so that he could reach his goal.
He opened his mouth to follow his orders, saliva and blood dripping onto Germany's stiff cock.
"Don't you dare let my pants stain," Germany warned, sending shocks of fear scuttling down his spine. Poland hastily licked up the offending droplets before they could touch cloth.
Germany made a low, bestial sound, a snarl trapped in his throat, and one hand -
- bare hand bare skin touching him his hand His gloves still locked behind his back -
one hand grabbing his hair, twisting and yanking him forward, his cuts stinging as Germany forced himself into Poland's throat. Poland struggled to swallow, struggled to breathe as Germany's hips started snapping back and forth, swift and ruthless as he always had been -
"Fuck yourself. Three fingers. Now."
Poland obeyed. No hesitation, just fullpainburnbreach, and the dry unmistakable texture of the glove -
Germany held his head down, fucking his face viciously, he couldn't breath, he had to keep thrusting his fingers and the pain of it was excruciating, fingers wrenching and twisting his hair and still pushing down and he couldn't breathe -
Germany came with grunt, tearing mercilessly at Poland's hair, too far in Poland's throat for Poland to taste hardly any of it.
Germany let go of Poland's hair.
Poland realized abruptly that he had stopped following the order to finger-fuck himself.
And then he realized he had come when Germany did.
Fortunately, he had splattered on himself and the floor, not on Germany's uniform.
"Hands behind you again," Germany muttered, voice a little strained. "Lick your mess off the floor."
Poland struggled to waddle backwards on his knees until he could lean forward and do it with his hands still in the position. Germany watched him impassively, tucking himself in, doing up his trousers, and rebuckling his belt.
He stood and walked toward the door, his hair still perfectly neat.
Poland shivered on the floor. He still couldn't talk, but he needed to know -
"What about your gloves, Herr Fatherland?"
Germany looked back at him, sneering.
"I can't very well use them anymore. You touched them, filth. Keep the worthless things."
Germany strode out.
Poland gasped, his worn-out body trembling.
He got to keep them.
Re: Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
*is very glad this is anonymous*, and usually I'm completely shameless.
But hey, Poland fantasizing about the Invasion was in the request, so I went with that...
My brain is bugging me now with a sequel about Germany having no idea what to do with seriously!fuckedup!Poland. Germany shows up expecting kinky sex, and Poland threatens to kill him if he doesn't GTFO, because even though Poland wants that, but he isn't/can't be that person (most of the time). Eventually Germany figures out they're only in-scene when Poland is wearing the gloves, and they use that signal without ever, heaven forbid, talking about it...
You should add it to the list on the first page. As for saying something nice - it's extremely well-written and HOT (oh God, it feels like admitting a sin!)
Re: Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
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no subject
(Anonymous) 2009-01-03 10:06 am (UTC)(link)Germany left his gloves after the world meeting, Poland found it and fantasized ( or remembered the invasion of Poland (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invasion_of_Poland_(1939)) ). Bonus: if Germany came back for his piece of clothes.
Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2009-02-21 02:08 am (UTC)(link)It couldn't be - he was too careful, too fastidious to accidentally leave anything - but he had.
No one else's gloves looked like that. No one else folded their gloves like that. Poland bit his lip and traced the edge of the smooth black leather with one fingertip.
He shivered.
He couldn't. He couldn't possibly -
He pulled his hand back, clenching his fists at his sides.
They were right there. He couldn't not.
Carefully, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head. He toed off his shoes and socks, and removed his pants, and set everything carefully off in a corner. Completely naked, he sat down in Germany's chair and lifted one glove to his face, inhaling deeply.
Leather. And oil. And memories.
Gunpowder. Smoke. The frantic thrill of terror pounding in his veins -
The glove fell away from his face as he gasped, landing innocuously on the table.
Poland swallowed compulsively, his heart pounding like cannon fire, and ever-so-slowly slipped his hand into the glove. It fit like - like it was his.
Ohgodohgodwhatwashedoingohgod -
He pulled on the other glove.
His left hand drifted to sac, the glove just-cooler-than-skin, but warming, and squeezed. He wrapped his other hand around himself and started to stroke.
Oh.
Oh yes.
It wasn't his hand, it was that hand, that glove, gripping him and using him, painful and precise, that callous calculated violence -
Overwhelming him, awful and devastating and electrifying, the lightning war -
He moved the hand on his stones farther back and shoved two fingers in, crying out as he pumped them in and out, twisted, as rough as He would be, as rough as He was, forcing his way inside Poland, beating him and taking him -
blood and sweat, desperate and scrambling and brutal, distant screaming and rattling artillery, nails raking his skin, marking him like tanks tracks rolling across the earth -
"I believe," announced a cold, cruel voice, "that those are mine."
Poland winced as he clamped down on his fingers in terror. His eyes flew open and he whimpered, staring straight into the palest, iciest blue eyes in Europe.
"I'm - I'm s-sorry -" he stammered, exposed and terrified.
"I didn't give you permission to talk," Germany growled. Poland shook.
Germany strode across the room, beautiful and terrible and inexorable -
The back of his bare hand cracked against Poland's cheek, stinging so hard it brought tears to his eyes, and he bit his lip until he tasted blood because he wasn't allowed to talk, could't let himself say yes, thank you, perfect -
"Get out of my chair." The order was as hard as another slap, the sharp smack of a riding crop in the air. Poland scrambled to obey.
Germany leisurely settled himself into the chair, his posture too perfect to really recline, pushing the chair away from the table.
"Kneel in front me." Germany smiled, just a little, like it pleased him when the universe operated properly. Poland knelt.
"Hands behind your back. Hold your right wrist in your left fist. Good. Now. Bend forward and lick my boots."
Poland has never been this hard.
Nasty and bitter, oil and meticulously applied shoe polish, smooth and tough as he laved them, trying to get the taste on as much of his tongue as he can. He slid his tongue around the bottom edge, the only place the boots are even a little dirty, dust and grit repulsive and he fought to keep from gagging -
Germany's foot swung forward, a small, casual, careless kick with the boots' steel toes that knocked one of Poland's teeth loose and bloodied his mouth further.
Germany doesn't say what that was punishment for. It wasn't punishment for anything. He just felt like it.
Germany didn't tell him to stop.
So when Poland could gulp back the bile that threatened to rise and mingle with the blood, he leaned down keeps licking the boot Germany kicked him with.
"Oh. Very nice," Germany murmured, wickedly amused. "Sit up."
Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2009-02-21 02:09 am (UTC)(link)"You will address me as der Herr or Herr Fatherland. You may request a reward for that little stunt."
Poland whimpered.
"Please. Please, Herr Fatherland, use me. Let me. Let me pleasure you, Herr Fatherland -"
"Silence."
Poland's mouth snapped shut.
Germany deftly unbuckled his belt, pulling it tortuously slowly from its loops. He hefted the sinuous strap in his hands contemplatively, absently winding the soft end around one of his hands. He snapped his arm up, out and down, sending the metal buckle slamming into Poland's back before it slid over the curve of his bare shoulder and clattered between the on the floor. Germany flicked opened his trousers and pulled his cock out, heavy and dark with blood. He gave it a few distant, pensive strokes.
"Spread your knees. Wider. Yes."
Poland's muscles ached with the strain of holding the new position, but he bit his cheek to keep from groaning.
Silence.
"Oh, very well," Germany mused. "Suck, miststück." Bitch.
Poland's mouth watered. His thighs burned as he leaned forward again, Germany's immaculately trouser-clad knees jabbing his chest as he stretched himself so that he could reach his goal.
He opened his mouth to follow his orders, saliva and blood dripping onto Germany's stiff cock.
"Don't you dare let my pants stain," Germany warned, sending shocks of fear scuttling down his spine. Poland hastily licked up the offending droplets before they could touch cloth.
Germany made a low, bestial sound, a snarl trapped in his throat, and one hand -
- bare hand bare skin touching him his hand His gloves still locked behind his back -
one hand grabbing his hair, twisting and yanking him forward, his cuts stinging as Germany forced himself into Poland's throat. Poland struggled to swallow, struggled to breathe as Germany's hips started snapping back and forth, swift and ruthless as he always had been -
"Fuck yourself. Three fingers. Now."
Poland obeyed. No hesitation, just fullpainburnbreach, and the dry unmistakable texture of the glove -
Germany held his head down, fucking his face viciously, he couldn't breath, he had to keep thrusting his fingers and the pain of it was excruciating, fingers wrenching and twisting his hair and still pushing down and he couldn't breathe -
Germany came with grunt, tearing mercilessly at Poland's hair, too far in Poland's throat for Poland to taste hardly any of it.
Germany let go of Poland's hair.
Poland realized abruptly that he had stopped following the order to finger-fuck himself.
And then he realized he had come when Germany did.
Fortunately, he had splattered on himself and the floor, not on Germany's uniform.
"Hands behind you again," Germany muttered, voice a little strained. "Lick your mess off the floor."
Poland struggled to waddle backwards on his knees until he could lean forward and do it with his hands still in the position. Germany watched him impassively, tucking himself in, doing up his trousers, and rebuckling his belt.
He stood and walked toward the door, his hair still perfectly neat.
Poland shivered on the floor. He still couldn't talk, but he needed to know -
"What about your gloves, Herr Fatherland?"
Germany looked back at him, sneering.
"I can't very well use them anymore. You touched them, filth. Keep the worthless things."
Germany strode out.
Poland gasped, his worn-out body trembling.
He got to keep them.
Re: Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2009-02-21 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)author!anon here
(Anonymous) 2009-02-21 11:53 pm (UTC)(link)*is very glad this is anonymous*, and usually I'm completely shameless.
But hey, Poland fantasizing about the Invasion was in the request, so I went with that...
My brain is bugging me now with a sequel about Germany having no idea what to do with seriously!fuckedup!Poland. Germany shows up expecting kinky sex, and Poland threatens to kill him if he doesn't GTFO, because even though Poland wants that, but he isn't/can't be that person (most of the time). Eventually Germany figures out they're only in-scene when Poland is wearing the gloves, and they use that signal without ever, heaven forbid, talking about it...
meh. *apologizes for rambling* I hate plot.
Re: author!anon here
(Anonymous) 2009-02-22 07:22 am (UTC)(link)author!anon here
(Anonymous) 2009-02-22 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)I don't care how ashamed you people are about being kinky. If you want more, say something nice about the first part, damnit.
*crankypants commentwhore is crankypants*
...*commentwhore is totally working on it, facepalm*
Re: author!anon here
(Anonymous) 2009-02-22 05:27 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2009-02-23 07:53 am (UTC)(link)I LOVE IT.
Hot and fucked up and scary and did I mention hot?
Amazing thing. Makes me so terrified of myself.
Re: Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2009-02-23 02:53 pm (UTC)(link)*ominous voice* ~Come to the dark side, we has kinky pr0ns~
I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Re: Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2009-03-02 02:08 am (UTC)(link)OMG!!!!!!!!! THIS IS FABULOUS
really. I would kiss you anon!! you made me so HAPPY and even more PERVERTED I was 8DDDDD
THANK YOU SO MUCH <3
Re: Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2010-04-05 02:57 pm (UTC)(link)that was..... hot
the characters were written beautifully (and sexily) and.... um.... i just looked back up at the story and i can't remember what i was saying....
anyway, hot damn, please write more!
Re: Poland masturbates with Germany's gloves, Germany/Poland D/s (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2010-05-03 03:00 am (UTC)(link)