But it seemed that in his glee and anticipation, Prussia had assumed that Austria would fall prey to his game without fail. He hadn't expected Austria to find use in the decorative quill, and was it just Austria's imagination, or was something lurking in the depths of Prussia's crimson eyes when he watched the feather caress the side of Austria's cheek?
The tables had turned. As soon as Austria realized that, he sat upright and brought the quill upwards, feigning concentration on his work. He slowly tapped the end of the feather to his lips, the light tickling sensation second to the look he was receiving from Prussia, a look torn between hungry interest and stubborn rejection of the idea that he might lose in a game he himself had initiated.
He shifted the quill in his hand, lightly tracing a finger up the shaft and directing the feather across his cheek, then stroking along the line of his jaw, mimicking the manner Prussia touched him the best he could, despite the sensations feeling as different as night and day.
The feather was light, graceful, and left nothing in its wake. It tickled and teased, but ultimately left no feelings of satisfaction. Prussia's hands, his fingers, they were rough and curled to mark Austria's skin whenever the two made contact. The trailing, red marks Prussia left behind would burn against the air, causing Austria to involuntarily arch his back into the Prussian, desperately seeking more.
The thought of Prussia handling him roughly made Austria shift in his seat, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. He gave the smallest of glances over his glasses just in time to see one of Prussia's hands disappear under the table. The pen he had been so obsessively clicking was tucked behind his ear, his thoughts of annoying Austria lost in lust.
Prussia was desperate and ready; he just needed one extra push to get him to break his stubborn will. Austria wrapped his fingers tightly around the quill and raised it to the side of his mouth, brushing it lightly against the sensitive mark. Never having done this sort of thing to himself before, least of all with the feather of a quill, Austria wasn't ready for the sensation and couldn't hold back a soft, surprised moan.
That was more than enough to coax the Prussian out of his seat. He stood so fast that the chair toppled over, crossing the room quickly and roughly grabbing Austria by the collar. He sat on Austria's desk, hastily shoving the stack of papers away, and lowered his face to the Austrian's ear.
"Are you so desperate to get off that you'd use even a quill, Roderich?" Prussia's breath was hot against Austria's skin, and the brunet couldn't suppress a shudder at the much needed contact. Prussia's tone still held superiority as he tried to gain the upper hand.
Austria attempted to resist, secretly loving the pressure of his collar and jabot against his neck. He glared up at Prussia and forced his tone to be even and daring. "Perhaps if my partner didn't insist on playing such childish games-"
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I Held The Pen, He Wrote The Words [3/?]
(Anonymous) 2012-03-26 07:17 am (UTC)(link)The tables had turned. As soon as Austria realized that, he sat upright and brought the quill upwards, feigning concentration on his work. He slowly tapped the end of the feather to his lips, the light tickling sensation second to the look he was receiving from Prussia, a look torn between hungry interest and stubborn rejection of the idea that he might lose in a game he himself had initiated.
He shifted the quill in his hand, lightly tracing a finger up the shaft and directing the feather across his cheek, then stroking along the line of his jaw, mimicking the manner Prussia touched him the best he could, despite the sensations feeling as different as night and day.
The feather was light, graceful, and left nothing in its wake. It tickled and teased, but ultimately left no feelings of satisfaction. Prussia's hands, his fingers, they were rough and curled to mark Austria's skin whenever the two made contact. The trailing, red marks Prussia left behind would burn against the air, causing Austria to involuntarily arch his back into the Prussian, desperately seeking more.
The thought of Prussia handling him roughly made Austria shift in his seat, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. He gave the smallest of glances over his glasses just in time to see one of Prussia's hands disappear under the table. The pen he had been so obsessively clicking was tucked behind his ear, his thoughts of annoying Austria lost in lust.
Prussia was desperate and ready; he just needed one extra push to get him to break his stubborn will. Austria wrapped his fingers tightly around the quill and raised it to the side of his mouth, brushing it lightly against the sensitive mark. Never having done this sort of thing to himself before, least of all with the feather of a quill, Austria wasn't ready for the sensation and couldn't hold back a soft, surprised moan.
That was more than enough to coax the Prussian out of his seat. He stood so fast that the chair toppled over, crossing the room quickly and roughly grabbing Austria by the collar. He sat on Austria's desk, hastily shoving the stack of papers away, and lowered his face to the Austrian's ear.
"Are you so desperate to get off that you'd use even a quill, Roderich?" Prussia's breath was hot against Austria's skin, and the brunet couldn't suppress a shudder at the much needed contact. Prussia's tone still held superiority as he tried to gain the upper hand.
Austria attempted to resist, secretly loving the pressure of his collar and jabot against his neck. He glared up at Prussia and forced his tone to be even and daring. "Perhaps if my partner didn't insist on playing such childish games-"