Another shot at smut, guys! I'm still pretty bad at it…. hmm… however I feel it was easy to write because it's a prompt I saw on the APH Kink Meme. It is indeed canon that Austria was once in a wheelchair (which I find somewhat amusing: he doesn't do sports or anything, does he? Perhaps tripping over a teabag? LOL) and the requester wanted Prussia abusing this fact. C:

Usually what happened in hospitals were the frequent worryings of nurses running from corridor to corridor to floor, or perhaps a ring of a bell or two from needy patients, or a pleasant symphony (Bruckner, hopefully) playing from an old radio three rooms down.

Because of this logical explanation, Austria had no idea how he became stuck in this situation in this stupid wheelchair. Against his ear were the murmured whisperings of Prussia (who apparently at first came for a "quick hello" and whose intentions were revealed when he locked the door and stacked chairs against the handle), dirty and obscene cursings and mockeries, his face in mortified blushes, emasculated groans escaping his mouth.

"So you broke your leg falling off a horse, huh," Prussia breathed against his neck from behind, fingers undoing a button of Austria's ivory cotton blouse. He sucked on the skin lightly, leaving faint, pink marks, and sneaked a warm hand underneath the flap of the shirt. His palm swept over Austria's chest, reveling in the soft skin, caressing a hard nipple.

"Get your hands off of me," Austria said as sternly as possible, unwilling to break his stubbornness, not bothering with courtesy. Another hand of Prussia's deliberately tugged down his trousers. Instinctively Austria gripped at his forearm with what little power he had left, and a stinging smack to his face was delivered mercilessly.

"Really, Austria? Come on, you and I know that you aren't goin' anywhere," the rough voice sneered, and continued prodding his hand into Austria's trousers, kneading tortuously soft pats through his gradually hardening member.

Prussia was right. Confined to his wooden chair on wheels, Austria only levied his lame body against the back of his seat, arching his back rather uncomfortably to Prussia's advances. He could feel the hand delving further into his hot lap, and despite all efforts to look down his torso he found the sight of Prussia's grasp around his completely aroused, precum-leaking cock to be absolutely dismaying (and delicious, to his chagrin). A thumb grazed over the head and Austria inhaled sharply, heedlessly thrusting his hips into Prussia's hand. "Sexy," Prussia purred into his ear.

He squeezed Austria's cock tightly and loosened his grip, taking pleasure in the lustful guttural noises emanating from the man's throat. "Y'know, I've always wanted to do this to you," Prussia said, and punctuated with a hard pump, "after that battle." Austria gasped and reddened with humiliation. Don't dare speak of it, his mind froze.

"Of course there were hundreds of soldiers and I couldn't bring myself to fuck you in front of everyone," Prussia said, almost a retaliation to Austria's desperate wishes, "and I don't like to share my spoils of war."

Now Austria was fucking Prussia's hand, wanting to spill his come now and the burning, confusing mix of pleasure and degradation pounded against his heart like a rifle firing bullets in rapid succession. With all the strength he could muster he forced himself into a silent moan as his cock came into Prussia's ungloved hand, the orgasm unceremoniously drizzled onto his digits.

"Shit, now my hand's dirty," Prussia complained to himself. There were no napkins around and he sure as hell did not want to wipe it onto his cobalt-blue blazer. Austria, trying to keep his post-climax breathing to a minimum, smirked unabashedly.