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[Fic] Fantasy Me
Title: Fantasy Me
Pairing: MysteryNation/Canada
Genre: D/s, Gratuitous Porn
Rating: Adult
Summary: Matthew has a fantasy - a very vivid fantasy.
Notes: I couldn't help but do a fill for this - the prompt was amazing.
Matthew has a go to dream, when he's starting to feel a little desperate.
It's really very simple, and without fail, it always gets him off, gives him just that little extra umph to make his eventual climax that much more...satisfying. It's never quite as good as if he's got someone else, another nation actually there, besides him, purring ever so softly into his ear, fingers running across his chest, and mouth licking terms of endearment into his skin.
In his fantasy, his solo runs, he's in a world meeting.
[You fantasize about work, Matthew?
Shut, up, I haven't finished.]
Except in the fantasies, he's not sitting in his chair next to Alfred, being ignored. Oh, no. No Matthew, to put it bluntly is the chair, his calves tied to his thighs, hands bound ever so tightly behind him. He can't move, can't even twitch, the ties are so perfectly done. It won't stop him from trying though, which is of course part of the whole experience.
[Get it now?
No.
Fine then.]
The real part of the fantasy starts when the other nations get there for the world meeting. When the other nations get there, most of them ignore him, they're used to seeing him like this after all. Everyone knows that if he's sitting likes this, all tied up [with no where to go], then he's being punished, and they're welcome to partake in his punishment.
[You fantasize about gang-bangs?
No! Just...Just listen, eh?]
As each member gets bored in his or her turn, that nation will walk over to him, so very slowly, and pull the gag from his mouth. He'll lean back, eyes fixed to the mirror propped up beside him. In that mirror, a long fingered hand is so very slowly pulling the gag from his mouth, a long silvery line of saliva clinging to both ends, stubbornly holding on as the hand carelessly wipes the gag on his face. He won't look the nation in the eyes, just fixes his gaze on the mirror next to him, and watches. Watches as the long fingered hand turns his face slightly and pushes in.
[...]
The first instinct is always to struggle, always. It's something ingrained in him thanks to his still human shape, that he needs to breath, needs air, has to have it, but it'll be cut off by the cock in his mouth. The first will always be the hardest to take, as the nation above him shoves his way in, and just takes, and takes, without a thought to Matthew. To that nameless, faceless nation, Matthew will be there just for his pleasure, a tool, something equally faceless and nameless.
And it'll keep going on like that. He'll have to suck, and lick, his way through every nation there, until his face is slick with precum and fluids. But never ejaculate. Never.
[Huh?
Shh.]
No one gets to come on his face, not a one. That pleasure, that privilege, is held for his lover, the one who put him there. His throat will be dry, be aching, he'll be hurting, aching, feeling the dull, sullen need between his legs that he can't get to. He'll be desperate, almost insane with need, and it's then, and only then, when all other nations have gone before, and left Matthew sitting there, wet and desperate, will Matthew allow his eyes to wander to the podium, where his lover is standing, smile never reaching his eyes.
The eyes that meet Matthew's own.
And then with a careless smirk slashed across his face, his lover will saunter over, and brush a thumb across bruised blood red lips. He'll kneel down on one knee, ignoring all the wet spots around Matthew, kneel down, and lean in close, so that his mouth just barely touches Matthew's ear. He'll whisper words that wrench themselves into Matthew's mind - Are you being good? Do you deserve this? Hmm? Do you, naughty boy, don't think I haven't seen you servicing them all like some two bit whore.
Matthew will beg wordlessly, mindlessly.
[Matthew?
If you don't let me finish, I never will.
O-okay.]
It will feel like forever, as if he's been balanced on an event horizon, wobbling back and forth between slipping in and slipping free, when his lover, will slowly feed himself into Matthew's eager mouth. Around them, the world meeting goes on, noticing nothing at all unusual about this. Germany demands order, Italy, pasta. But alls he'll see is the thrusting abdomen in front of him, forcing his throat to open up even more then before, making him take it.
Like all the others, his lover too draws out before finishing. Matthew [whines] knows he'll feel desperate, and lean forward to recapture his lover's flesh. In his fantasy, a hand will reach down, wrench his head back, and while he gasps in surprise, he'll feel the hot splashes against his skin, his face, his closed eyes. His lover will groan, hand turning from harsh to gentle, as he comforts Matthew, tells him he's done good, he's been such a good boy, so good, he's so proud of Matthew.
No one but his lover gets to come on his face, and the world knows it. It's hot, it's possessive, he shouldn't want it like he does - he's a grown, independent nation - but the very idea of it, it never fails to make him gasp and come.
[So, uh, that's it, eh. Hey, don't give me that, it's just -
Oh, god Matthew, just shut up, do you have any idea of how fucking hot that is?
I, I, oh god.]
Pairing: MysteryNation/Canada
Genre: D/s, Gratuitous Porn
Rating: Adult
Summary: Matthew has a fantasy - a very vivid fantasy.
Notes: I couldn't help but do a fill for this - the prompt was amazing.
Matthew has a go to dream, when he's starting to feel a little desperate.
It's really very simple, and without fail, it always gets him off, gives him just that little extra umph to make his eventual climax that much more...satisfying. It's never quite as good as if he's got someone else, another nation actually there, besides him, purring ever so softly into his ear, fingers running across his chest, and mouth licking terms of endearment into his skin.
In his fantasy, his solo runs, he's in a world meeting.
[You fantasize about work, Matthew?
Shut, up, I haven't finished.]
Except in the fantasies, he's not sitting in his chair next to Alfred, being ignored. Oh, no. No Matthew, to put it bluntly is the chair, his calves tied to his thighs, hands bound ever so tightly behind him. He can't move, can't even twitch, the ties are so perfectly done. It won't stop him from trying though, which is of course part of the whole experience.
[Get it now?
No.
Fine then.]
The real part of the fantasy starts when the other nations get there for the world meeting. When the other nations get there, most of them ignore him, they're used to seeing him like this after all. Everyone knows that if he's sitting likes this, all tied up [with no where to go], then he's being punished, and they're welcome to partake in his punishment.
[You fantasize about gang-bangs?
No! Just...Just listen, eh?]
As each member gets bored in his or her turn, that nation will walk over to him, so very slowly, and pull the gag from his mouth. He'll lean back, eyes fixed to the mirror propped up beside him. In that mirror, a long fingered hand is so very slowly pulling the gag from his mouth, a long silvery line of saliva clinging to both ends, stubbornly holding on as the hand carelessly wipes the gag on his face. He won't look the nation in the eyes, just fixes his gaze on the mirror next to him, and watches. Watches as the long fingered hand turns his face slightly and pushes in.
[...]
The first instinct is always to struggle, always. It's something ingrained in him thanks to his still human shape, that he needs to breath, needs air, has to have it, but it'll be cut off by the cock in his mouth. The first will always be the hardest to take, as the nation above him shoves his way in, and just takes, and takes, without a thought to Matthew. To that nameless, faceless nation, Matthew will be there just for his pleasure, a tool, something equally faceless and nameless.
And it'll keep going on like that. He'll have to suck, and lick, his way through every nation there, until his face is slick with precum and fluids. But never ejaculate. Never.
[Huh?
Shh.]
No one gets to come on his face, not a one. That pleasure, that privilege, is held for his lover, the one who put him there. His throat will be dry, be aching, he'll be hurting, aching, feeling the dull, sullen need between his legs that he can't get to. He'll be desperate, almost insane with need, and it's then, and only then, when all other nations have gone before, and left Matthew sitting there, wet and desperate, will Matthew allow his eyes to wander to the podium, where his lover is standing, smile never reaching his eyes.
The eyes that meet Matthew's own.
And then with a careless smirk slashed across his face, his lover will saunter over, and brush a thumb across bruised blood red lips. He'll kneel down on one knee, ignoring all the wet spots around Matthew, kneel down, and lean in close, so that his mouth just barely touches Matthew's ear. He'll whisper words that wrench themselves into Matthew's mind - Are you being good? Do you deserve this? Hmm? Do you, naughty boy, don't think I haven't seen you servicing them all like some two bit whore.
Matthew will beg wordlessly, mindlessly.
[Matthew?
If you don't let me finish, I never will.
O-okay.]
It will feel like forever, as if he's been balanced on an event horizon, wobbling back and forth between slipping in and slipping free, when his lover, will slowly feed himself into Matthew's eager mouth. Around them, the world meeting goes on, noticing nothing at all unusual about this. Germany demands order, Italy, pasta. But alls he'll see is the thrusting abdomen in front of him, forcing his throat to open up even more then before, making him take it.
Like all the others, his lover too draws out before finishing. Matthew [whines] knows he'll feel desperate, and lean forward to recapture his lover's flesh. In his fantasy, a hand will reach down, wrench his head back, and while he gasps in surprise, he'll feel the hot splashes against his skin, his face, his closed eyes. His lover will groan, hand turning from harsh to gentle, as he comforts Matthew, tells him he's done good, he's been such a good boy, so good, he's so proud of Matthew.
No one but his lover gets to come on his face, and the world knows it. It's hot, it's possessive, he shouldn't want it like he does - he's a grown, independent nation - but the very idea of it, it never fails to make him gasp and come.
[So, uh, that's it, eh. Hey, don't give me that, it's just -
Oh, god Matthew, just shut up, do you have any idea of how fucking hot that is?
I, I, oh god.]
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