This all stared out because of a journal update Daciah on DeviantArt had, a meme I did in inspiration. Number 25 of the meme asked what number 6's secret fetish was (Austria was my number 6) My answer was "Austria actually loves heavy metal, especially when Prussia is the one singing it"
Austria's shaky hands fumbled with the multitude of locks on the front doors. Chain, padlock, electric lock – all sealed away like a dirty secret. The windows were next, shut tight before a ring of sound proof padding was placed along its rim. The curtains were drawn next. He jerked them closed with such forge he almost ripped them from the walls.
The pianist took a steady, calming breath.
He couldn't allow for himself to get so carried away. Everything needed to be perfect if he was to pull this off. If he left a lock open, a window cracked, a blind unturned the mission would have to be aborted.
Roderich didn't know if he had the will survive if that happened.
He hadn't felt craving for that kind of music in years. It was driving him mad.
His hands started to shake again and he knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer.
Casting one last glance around the house he deemed the mansion safe from intrusion.
Austria raced to the master bed, unable to contain his excitement. It didn't matter anyway – he was alone. He didn't have to put up any fronts.
The pianist laughed, a sound almost foreign to even himself. He locked the master bedroom door, skipping to the expensive speaker system Hungry bought for his last birthday. At the time he found no reason for it but the sly woman knew better. He made a note to thank her later, staring up the shiny black machine.
It purred under his fingers. Austria's breath was caught for a moment. Fear flashed through his chest – what if some one heard?
Nonsense. He was expecting no visitors today.
What if Prussia dropped by?
Preposterous. The lug was off getting drunk who knows where with those idiot friends of his France and Spain.
No, no Prussia would catch him today.
Assured, Austria drummed his fingers over the panels of the music system. It was no piano but Austria loved it more than anything else at that moment. The first song played, soft at first, tender even. It was almost the song of a ballet. The notes were gentle, caressing.
Austria huffed at the air, loosening his collar before he striped completely. His moment of nudity was short lived, clothing himself with hurricane speed in tight leather silver studded clothes. Chains were next to adorn his skin, heavy chain draped over his lanky body.
The second song started, quicker, less gentle. The song as the last has no lyrics but the beet was strong. Austria's heart started to pump to it, giddy for what was to come next. Before that could happen the pianist slipped off to the master bathroom, feet making loud thumping noises against the floor.
In the bathroom the music was muffled. Austria hurried with his final task before the fun started, taking off his glasses and painting the rim of his eyes in thick black mascara. He was never one for make up unless he was in one of these moods. His hands shook so much he poked himself a couple of times but none of the pain mattered anymore.
The next song started.
Austria sprinted back into his bedroom, turning up the volume to an earsplitting intensity he normally would have objected to.
At that moment, there was nothing more lovely.
His hips started to jerk to the song. The singer's voice went straight to his groin. Austria groaned, feeling arousal creep through his veins like alcohol. He kicked off his shoes and with the same motion started to bang his head. His nerves tingled with the vibrations from the song, the hairs on his skin stood on end at the harsh screaming voice. Austria sang along, voice much less screechy than the singers but reverberating with the same hot intensity,
The heavy metal was like a siren's song to him.
He danced to the music, a burning passion enveloping his entire body and mind. Nothing existed but the music blasting through his frame. Any thought of elegant piano music was obsolete, any fear of being caught disappeared as each shattering breath was breathed.
Heaven, hell? Austria didn't know which one he was in.
His pants were tighter than ever, his pulsing member straining against the zipper. Austria let out a low moan, breath ragged as he undid his pants.
Shame. He went to such effort to put it on.
The nest song started, harsher, more erratic and thus erotic than previous. The prim and proper man mewled with pleasure at the voice.
It was Prussia's song. God, it was Prussia's song.
The stupid nation had recorded several songs a few years back, "so that all the nations can listen to awesome me". Austria rejected the music, said it was worthless and threw it in the trash. As soon as Prussia left the pianist dove for the dumpster, combing through the garbage until he found the disk, miraculously unharmed. Since then whenever Austria was in one of these moods he listened to Prussia's music.
How many years had he done this. How often did he jerk off to Prussia hellish, lust driven voice.
Austria lost count. He knew all the songs by heart. If he went into a coma he would remember the music, the beet, the passion. He feared the cd would burn or break one day with how often he played it. And each time felt just like the first, the first time he listened to the music a played with himself because he couldn't stand anyone to know of his secret; especially not the singer himself.
The next song started. Austria fell to his knees, moaning like a cat in heat. His dexterous hands wrapped themselves around his hot member. He thought of stronger calloused hands. Gruff hands built on battle and starvation. The music sang in his ear, sang through his body. Austria rolled back his head, crooning to the moon.
The hands were rough against his back, dry hands pulling at his soft sensitive skin. There was a tongue at the base of his neck. The steaming mouth cupped open mouth kisses before nipping at Austria's lust sensitive skin.
The pianist moaned a long, low note, mind hiking up to a greater high.
A second hand met his member, squeezing it with a harsh jerk.
Austria's eyes flashed open. That couldn't have been imagination.
"Geh hek, hek. I was wondering when you'd notice me," Prussia mocked, yanking on Austria's tensed cock too strong to be pleasurable.
There were a number of responses Austria could have made at that moment. Intelligent things. Scathing things. Things that would have made Prussia nervous for his vital rejoins. With all the quick wit he was so well know for he could have spun circles around the violating nation.
"Fuck! Fuck you!" he screamed instead, unable to fight off his invading instincts as a nation.
Austria turned and tackled Prussia to the ground, tongue dancing into the silver haired nation's mouth. His deft hands mapped out Prussia's body, hips grinding and cover-less cock pulsing against the body under him. The music continued playing in the back. Austria continued rutting against the more muscular nation, this time in tune to the music's banging.
"Whoa! Whoa! Roddy, I'm happy to see you too!" Prussia exclaimed, both pleased and a little frightened by the smaller nation's intensity. Austria growled in response, kissing Prussia's lips strong enough it was more of a bite than a kiss.
"Shut up, Blockhead!" he hissed. Then after a moment, "Sing damn it!"
Prussia laughed turning so that he could pin the hazed nation. Prussia grinned over him like a Cheshire cat, leaning down to lick Austria's neck.
"I never knew you had such kinks. You should have told me sooner so he would have awesome sex."
"I said sing, Blockhead!" Austria barked back, straining under the stronger nation's hold. His hips bucked again, grinding against Prussia. He was relieved when silver haired nation made a soft noise, a groan as his eyes closed.
"Don't you want to know how I got into your house? It was awesome, I was like a spy –"
"Gilbert!" Austria snarled. "I – do-not –care."
Prussia stared down at the once mighty nation. His hair was a mess, plastered to his face, lips bruised with kisses, skin shining with sweat. His breath was like that of a bull's, chest heaving up and down. His cock stood proud and erect, demanding attention.
How could Prussia not?
He listened to the song a moment, remembering the lyrics. He sang this one often, had thought nothing of it until this moment.
Prussia began to sing, voice high and powerful. Austria groaned, mind becoming lightheaded from the pleasure of his voice alone. This was far better than any music from a speaker.
Prussia stood over him, singing, banging his head, dancing to the beet like Austria had himself moments before.
It was like watching an incubus.
Austria stood, joining Prussia in his dance, melding their bodies together. He dug his hands into Prussia's pants to pull his member free. He stroked them together, in rhythm to Prussia's song.
Austria didn't know which was bigger, the man's ego or his cock.
Prussia's voice staggered with pleasure, tarring the leather top off Austria – it was sticky from sweat.
"K-keep singing!" the pianist demanded, his own hands going to his chest, pleasuring himself.
The sight just turned the other nation on more. He had a note to ask Austria to pierce his nipples. There was zero chance of him doing it but then again he had thought there was zero chance of the man liking his genre of music. Rough, aggressive, easy to fuck to; just how Prussia liked it.
As he sang Prussia shimmied his way out of his own clothing, dropping to Austria's pants to suck on the man's needy erection.
"Don't!" the pianist cried. "Another time! Keep singing!"
Prussia was only too happy to agree. He pulled the lighter man to his large bed, throwing Austria onto it. He expected a retort, a remark, a snarled hiss.
Austria laid out on the bed, pulling away the pants, rattling what few chains were left.
Prussia felt his libido surge at the sultry look Austria gave him. It was burning.
The stronger nation jumped onto the bed, continued singing as he marred the perfect flesh with licks, kisses, and bites. Bruises already stood out on the pale skin. Austria didn't care. He would in the morning but he was too busy grinding against his personal god of metal to care.
"Think you'd get your nipples pierced?" Prussia asked during one of their breaks. Neither had left the bed for several hours. Several unsuccessful attempts had been made to vacate the bed for a shower. The silver haired nation doubted the pair could make it to the bathroom before starting up again anyway.
"You Blockhead," Austria grunted against him, breath even and sleepy.
"Hey, don't go to sleep on awesome me! We still have more to do!"
"No sleeping," Austria mumbled into Prussia's naked chest. "Just keep singing."
"But my voice hurts!"
I actually hate heavy metal, or rather, screamo like Prussia's music. But Austria in tight leather and chains and headbanging is hot. Thanks for reading, and please visit both Daciah and The-Wandering-Path on Deviantart . com
Austria called Prussia "Blockhead" many times because in a fanflash made with vocaloid voices called "Seven Weeks War" Austria kept calling Prussia "Blockhead" and I thought it was too adorable to pass up :D sorry for being redundant~