“Ha.” Denmark pushes his finger in deeper and goes back and forth, making Germany monitor his breathing very very closely not to act out of frustration. Denmark has some kind of ability to find just the right spots (Germany doesn't even know if he's doing it on purpose, really), the ones that get him to gasp and his muscles to tense completely, and to keen towards it like a bitch in heat, and then to forget them entirely and just move on. It's very annoying.
“Oi, you. Stop writhing. We'll get there.” Germany doesn't even know who said that, or why, and he may or may not have some difficulty following the instructions.
“Mmgh... more...”
He bites down on his lip harshly, because that should not have escaped. At least, not already or something (he's not entirely sure what boundary he's drawing himself, to be honest.)
“Might do, but apparently I'm not meant to and someone would hit me then, so...” Almost in apology, Denmark thrusts his finger in roughly and starts suddenly attacking those points he found before, to the point where Germany can't quite stop small sounds falling out of his mouth.
“Dude, you dick!” America bursts forward with all his usual tact and courtesy. “C'mon, we came here to give the slut something, now let's do it!”
America's hard enough to keep up with at the best of times and Germany's not in his most rational state of mind right now, so Germany barely has time to comprehend this statement before America is kneeling before the foot of the bed and covering his fingers with the slick substance, clearly ready to just push them in and move on. He presses one to Germany's hole and Germany unthinkingly moves his hips towards it. With a cocky grin, America impales him in an instant.
“Agh!” The initial shock. Then the two are fingering him together, and there is nothing wrong with it at all. It's strange, dealing with this from the two of them – he automatically senses the differences; America's hands are smaller but somewhat rougher, and he can't decide whether that makes sense or not.
“Hey, I shouldn't get hit in the head this way,” Denmark grins at America.
(In the background, Germany sees England rolling his eyes. “It was meant to be a joke, imbeciles.” Oh, he said it.)
“Yeah, well, safety in numbers and that.” America smirks down at the panting Germany. “Dude, I think this guy totally took that lesson to heart. Bit too much to be honest.”
Germany groans (more out of embarrassment than anything, honestly this time) and America laughs.
“What's that? You want more?”
Another finger teases his rim, and Germany's muscles clench (Denmark curses under his breath). “Yes,” he says directly. For the love of god, he wants more. He wants to be filled as much as possible, by whoever and whatever, and cock, jesus, he really is a whore.
“'Kay.”
It takes America more effort to push in the second one (no matter the fantasy, Germany's body is still subject to the laws of biology) and Germany holds his breath until a third finger is stretching him out. He notices that America and Denmark don't seem to quite understand what angles they should be sitting/kneeling at to do this most effectively. It makes him have to chase their fingers (and has him too out of it to figure out what the most efficient method would be as he normally would), until someone grabs him under the jaw and forces his attention upward.
He sees Romano looming above. “Fuck me. You want it this bad, whore? Want like nine guys fucking you into the mattress?”
Germany shivers. Turns out, Romano's irrational hatred of him has its uses. He nods along with the statement (and wonders if he should specify he's none too fussy about the mattress thing.)
Romano smirks and presses three fingers to Germany's mouth; he obediently opens it and takes them in, sucking generously. He doesn't exactly know why Romano's doing this (he doesn't think he plans to join Denmark and America further down, because that would take more effort and time than Romano would ever be willing to spend on him), but nevermind.
[Part 18] Door Stopper [6/?] [Germany/Various]
“Oi, you. Stop writhing. We'll get there.” Germany doesn't even know who said that, or why, and he may or may not have some difficulty following the instructions.
“Mmgh... more...”
He bites down on his lip harshly, because that should not have escaped. At least, not already or something (he's not entirely sure what boundary he's drawing himself, to be honest.)
“Might do, but apparently I'm not meant to and someone would hit me then, so...” Almost in apology, Denmark thrusts his finger in roughly and starts suddenly attacking those points he found before, to the point where Germany can't quite stop small sounds falling out of his mouth.
“Dude, you dick!” America bursts forward with all his usual tact and courtesy. “C'mon, we came here to give the slut something, now let's do it!”
America's hard enough to keep up with at the best of times and Germany's not in his most rational state of mind right now, so Germany barely has time to comprehend this statement before America is kneeling before the foot of the bed and covering his fingers with the slick substance, clearly ready to just push them in and move on. He presses one to Germany's hole and Germany unthinkingly moves his hips towards it. With a cocky grin, America impales him in an instant.
“Agh!” The initial shock. Then the two are fingering him together, and there is nothing wrong with it at all. It's strange, dealing with this from the two of them – he automatically senses the differences; America's hands are smaller but somewhat rougher, and he can't decide whether that makes sense or not.
“Hey, I shouldn't get hit in the head this way,” Denmark grins at America.
(In the background, Germany sees England rolling his eyes. “It was meant to be a joke, imbeciles.” Oh, he said it.)
“Yeah, well, safety in numbers and that.” America smirks down at the panting Germany. “Dude, I think this guy totally took that lesson to heart. Bit too much to be honest.”
Germany groans (more out of embarrassment than anything, honestly this time) and America laughs.
“What's that? You want more?”
Another finger teases his rim, and Germany's muscles clench (Denmark curses under his breath). “Yes,” he says directly. For the love of god, he wants more. He wants to be filled as much as possible, by whoever and whatever, and cock, jesus, he really is a whore.
“'Kay.”
It takes America more effort to push in the second one (no matter the fantasy, Germany's body is still subject to the laws of biology) and Germany holds his breath until a third finger is stretching him out. He notices that America and Denmark don't seem to quite understand what angles they should be sitting/kneeling at to do this most effectively. It makes him have to chase their fingers (and has him too out of it to figure out what the most efficient method would be as he normally would), until someone grabs him under the jaw and forces his attention upward.
He sees Romano looming above. “Fuck me. You want it this bad, whore? Want like nine guys fucking you into the mattress?”
Germany shivers. Turns out, Romano's irrational hatred of him has its uses. He nods along with the statement (and wonders if he should specify he's none too fussy about the mattress thing.)
Romano smirks and presses three fingers to Germany's mouth; he obediently opens it and takes them in, sucking generously. He doesn't exactly know why Romano's doing this (he doesn't think he plans to join Denmark and America further down, because that would take more effort and time than Romano would ever be willing to spend on him), but nevermind.