Bad Bet

Prussia had some weird ideas. Even more so when he was drunk.

He and America had gone drinking again, finding nothing else better to do. They'd been riling each other up all night, and Prussia, annoyed and intoxicated, found the time ripe to enact a little revenge for what had happened the last time they had got together.

At a previous drunken outing, America had bet the ex-nation that that he couldn't beat him in a drag race. At the autobahn, no less. Prussia accepted without hesitation, confident that he would win. He found out too late that America had filled his gas tank with sugar. America thought it was hilarious; Prussia, not so much.

The catch was that the loser had to wait on the winner faithfully for an entire week. America, that cheeky bastard, milked the opportunity for all it was worth. Of course.

If Prussia never scrubbed another toilet in his life, it would be too soon.

Anyway, he got the idea and he was confident that this time, there was no way he could lose. No way he would allow a little upstart nation to have one over the Awesome Prussia.

"Hey, hey, Am'rica," Prussia said, slurring his words slightly and slamming his mug down on the counter. "Let's even the score. Y'know, from last time." He was sure that America would stupidly accept his proposition, no matter how ridiculous.

America snorted into his drink. He still hadn't gotten over that humiliation. "What do you want?" he said.

"Austria," he replied. "I bet you can't score with him."

Involuntarily, the younger of the two did a spit-take. Prussia thumped the choking nation on the back, frowning a little.

"You're crazy," America stated the obvious once he had regained his breath. He picked up his drink again, looking into the bottom contemplatively.

"What? Afraid you're gonna lose?"

"No, it's just your weird ideas," America said, looking back up at him. He grinned. "I mean, of course I can score with him!"

Prussia resisted the urge to slam his head onto the counter.

Compared to the more lecherous of nations, Austria was the biggest prude in the universe. As far as Prussia could tell, the man was basically asexual. After all, if his sexy self couldn't bed him, then who could? Seducing the land-locked nation was the ultimate impossible task. America would lose; he was sure of it.

"Alright," Prussia said, picking his beer back up. "If you're so sure. Do we have a bet?"

"Sure." America seemed to hesitate. "But what do I get if I win?"

Prussia thought for a minute. "How about this," he said. "Let's do something different. The loser has to answer to Hungary for a week." No doubt the girl had some interest in a bet like this, that much he knew. "But If I win, you have to answer to me as well. And it's not like you're gonna win anyway." Prussia smirked. "Kesesese! I'm looking forward to seeing you fail!"

America matched the other's smug grin with his own. "Yeah, well, you should get ready to be Hungary's bitch! HAHAHA!"

He realized then that Hungary would probably shove his junk into a meat grinder if he ever succeeded, but it was too late to back out now.

A deal was a deal, possessive girlfriends or not.

Thinking that he would deal with the consequences later, America turned back to his drink. And at the other side of the bar, Hungary rose up slowly from behind one of the tables, grinning evilly, like a demonic puppet from a horror movie.

This was a very interesting bet indeed.


Austria was suspicious even before America opened his door.

A few days ago he had called him to arrange a meeting to discuss 'immigration issues' between their countries – alone, as if that weren't strange enough. Austria agreed, but he was still wary. Their relations were fair enough, and they hadn't seen a reason to visit each other in some years. What was he up to this time? Maybe America meant to bolster the student exchange programs between their countries for his youth. Austria could go along with that; it was hardly a secret that he had pride in his educational institutions.

Austria didn't have to wait long after knocking before the front door swung open. America stood there, beaming at him.

"Hey, so you came after all!" he said, leaning against the door frame. Austria tried not to notice how the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and how the movement revealed a bit more skin than what was necessary – not like he ever thought of him like that, of course! It was just a hot day, and –

America interrupted his internal monologue by ushering him inside. "Come on, come on, I haven't got all day!" he said jokingly, kicking the door closed behind them. Shaking his head, Austria followed the other nation into his home. He was led into the front room, and America gestured for him to sit next to him on the sofa.

He thought it was a bit strange, but didn't say anything.

"Alright, so, immigration," America said, shifting towards him until their thighs were touching. Austria felt his face heat up a little and he cleared his throat, composing himself.

"Right. About that, I was thinking how our foreign exchange – "

He stopped when he felt America's fingers brushing through his hair. Was it just him, or was he a lot closer than before? Austria glanced at him from over his glasses and tried to shift away, but found that the other had him boxed against the arm of the couch.

"You're so cute, Roddy," America said, matching his look as he brushed a thumb against his collarbone. He blushed. Now he was certain what was going on.

"W-what? Don't call me that." Maybe it was all part of the deal, but if America wanted to do something with him then he didn't want to get called degrading pet names while he was at it.

America licked his lips and smiled – more of a smirk, really – before moving to straddle the European. He leaned in close so that his breath was teasing his ear; and damn it all, Austria could do nothing to stop the way his heart beat faster at that.

"You know what I meant when I said immigration, right?" he said lowly, letting his hands wander down to Austria's topmost shirt button, popping it open. Austria said nothing, watching as the other worked on the remaining buttons. He couldn't bring himself to push him off like he should've. America's hands were trailing lower over his abdomen, and his teeth were gently nipping at his earlobe; he didn't want it to stop just yet . . .

"Or," America continued, brushing his lips and tongue wetly over the pulse point on Austria's neck. "Or else you wouldn't have come here, huh?"

Austria remained silent, though it was impossible for him to keep his breath from hitching when America sucked on his neck and rotated his hips, grinding their fronts together.

"Say something, Roderich," America said, moving to kiss the side of his mouth, a little impatient. Dammit, this seduction thing was hard work! Why couldn't he just take him on the floor and be done with it? He pushed a hand through Austria's half-open shirt and brushed over a nipple, tweaking it.

Austria blushed harder. His skin seemed to prickle wherever America touched. "Th-this is not appropriate . . . " He would never say it out loud, but America seemed to know what he was doing; a particular rub against his pelvis drew a moan out of him before he could check himself.

Leaning back a little, America sent him a teasing grin. "You don't seem to mind a whole lot," he said, brushing his hand over the growing bulge in Austria's trousers. He put on a mock-contemplative look and licked his lips again. "What if I – " he continued, looking pointedly now-obvious erection. The European one cursed under his breath in German, and America felt a little satisfaction. Maybe doing this to Austria would be easier – and more enjoyable – than he thought.

When his conquest made no effort to reply, America crawled off of the couch and onto the floor. He knelt in front of the flustered Austria, sending him an impish little smile, never breaking eye contact as he leaned towards him until his nose nestled against the other's groin. He couldn't look away.

"Y-you're – ahh – " Austria's voice faltered when America gripped his trouser zipper between his teeth, his breath hot on him. He undid the article, pulling it over his legs along with his underwear, exposing his hardness. America blew on it gently, and Austria thought he might die right then and there.

"Relax," said America. He kissed the tip of his cock experimentally before leaning forward to encase the head in his mouth, sucking lightly. Austria gasped and he became harder still at the feeling of America's hot wet mouth around him; the sensation only increased when America dropped his head, tongue stroking along the underside, back up again, circling the tip and pushing into the slit. Austria fisted his hands into the blond waves of the other.

"A-Alfred . . . " he whimpered. America had wrapped his hand around the base and began stroking him in time as he bobbed his head. Waves of pleasure consumed his entire body, pooling in his groin; America's ministrations only caused the heat to increase and it was getting harder and harder to hold off on climaxing.

Just when he thought it was all over, America sat back on his haunches and let his painfully-hard member fall from his swollen lips. Austria found himself making a noise of frustration – he was this far gone, he just wanted release, goddammit!

"W-what are you doing?" he demanded, watching as America stood and began rifling through the couch cushions. He was clearly searching for something.

America returned with a small bottle of clear gel: lubricant. He popped the cap off. "You didn't think we were done yet, did you?" he said, winking. He knew he wouldn't win the bet unless he went all the way with him. He just wouldn't tell him that.

Austria seemed impassive as America pushed him back onto the couch, so that he was lying face-up. He knelt in front of him and spread his legs apart. America watched his expression carefully. Well, he didn't want to lose against Prussia, but he didn't want to rape him either. That would be truly un-heroic. He had to know if Austria really wanted it or not.

"Are you alright with this?" he asked, resting his hands on his knees. The lube bottle lay between them.

Austria huffed. "Just hurry up."

Laughing to himself slightly, America took a moment to remove his trousers, kicking it to the floor, along with both of their glasses, which he placed on the coffee table. He then picked up the lube again and poured some onto his fingers, rubbing it around for a second so it could warm up. Austria's breath hitched in anticipation when he spread the substance around his hole, massaging it into the sensitive skin before pushing the first finger past the ring of muscle.

Austria shifted and hissed a little but otherwise didn't react at the intrusion. Using another dollop of lube, America pushed another finger in, then another, thrusting and scissoring and stretching him but intentionally avoiding that one spot that would drive him mad. After a few minutes, Austria was panting and looking thoroughly impatient; America removed his fingers and sat back to admire the flushed nation before him. He looked truly fuckable like that, all red in the face and chest heaving.

"Ready?" he said, shrugging off his boxers. He didn't bother to remove his shirt, instead reaching for the lube again so he could slick up his cock until it was dripping wet.

"I've been ready for a while," Austria replied sardonically.

"So excited!" said America, taunting him. He lifted Austria's legs into the air and hooked them over his shoulders. Without further ceremony, he thrust inside, and Austria gasped at the intrusion, throwing his head back and clutching at the other nation's arms on either side of him.

With just a second of hesitation behind him, America began to move. He shuddered at the tight heat surrounding his member. It was better than he anticipated. He switched up the angle of his thrusts into Austria's hole, fucking him into the couch, making him cry out.

"Nnn – God, Alfred!" he said, trembling. America was striking his prostrate with every thrust, leaving him a whimpering mess on the cushions.

"Hah . . . is that – ah! – good for you, Roddy?" America said, sliding his hands down Austria's legs to cup around his ass and lift him up, now able to penetrate him deeper. He didn't wait for a reply, instead leaning closer to crush his lips against Austria's.

They exchanged bruising kisses as they rocked together, the couch springs creaking underneath them. Austria was sighing into America's mouth and America was alternating between nibbling at his lip and running his tongue over the other's teeth. Neither felt they could last much longer. After America snapped his hips up with particular force, Austria was forced to break the kiss, still gripping his arms and moaning loudly.

"Ohh, oh . . . oh fuck, A-Alfred!"

One last push shoved him over the edge. Austria's breath caught in his throat as he came, spilling his cum between their abdomens. America followed soon after; the clenching of his muscles was quick to undo him, and he came deep inside the other with a choked cry.

Austria lay trying to recover as America rode out his orgasm, still thrusting shallowly. After a minute his motions stopped. They collapsed together in a heap on the cushions, spent, hair tousled and breathing ragged.

Austria wriggled underneath the other and reached for his glasses. "Get off me," he muttered. America laughed; he knew now he wasn't as uptight as he appeared to be. He stifled a yawn and got up to retrieve his own glasses before heading off to the bathroom to get a towel.

When America returned, Austria let him clean him off without protest. It was a bit humiliating how easily he let himself get carried away, but he was too tired and sated to think about that now. He was still flushed down to his collarbone from their recent activities, and America thought he would have to discuss these 'immigration issues' with him more often . . .



"Need . . . brain-bleach . . . " Prussia whispered, staring catatonically into space.

Hungary ejected the DVD from its player and sat back onto the sofa, smiling. "I believe you owe me a favour," she said happily. True, she did still feel a little jealous of America, but she couldn't stay angry for long when she had such amazing gay porn on her hands, and with Prussia as her temporary manservant to boot! She was lucky she'd been able to bug America's house with spy cameras before Austria came over. All she had to do was show Prussia the evidence that America had succeeded and that was that.

Prussia groaned and banged his head against the table. "How could this happen to me?" he sniffed. "I was so sure I'd won! I mean, why the hell would Specs turn me down and then go for stupid America?"

Hungary shrugged. "Beats me," she said. She whipped a toilet brush seemingly out of nowhere. "But anyway, you've got work to do. Snap to it, bitch!" And she whacked Prussia with the brush as he cried bitter tears of failure.

A/N: Basically, I wrote this for TheEvilMuffinToaster. No leotards, though. Maybe some other time.

So, uh, yeah. Writing such explicit stuff is slightly out of my comfort zone, if you can't tell. If it's boring/rubbish, then that's why.

-confidence level drops 300%-

If you've read this far, then tell me what you thought, please darlings? OwO;;