Finally! After 2 weeks waiting I am at last allowed to edit and upload my stories again! I hate it when I keep getting errors~

This was meant to be a chapter from a multi-chapter fic, but I realised I really fail at that -.- So I decided to take this chapter out, place it in a new setting and voilá. Couldn't help myself from uploading more smut :P

Warnings of the day: Explicit yaoi (double even), possibly bad English (I'm no native speaker, you've been warned), maybe strange settings because I kept seeing this as a chapter from another story.

And Hetalia doesn't belong to me, dang...

I hope you did not mind too much

Grumbling to himself England walked with his cup of tea in his hands to one of the tables. The meeting had been dragging on all day, and they had finished just minutes ago. He had decided to drink a cup of tea to calm his nerves first, before going for dinner. But when he poured the tea, it appeared to be black as coffee and greasy – how did those bloody French manage to get the tea greasy? Did they never wash the tea pot?

Staring at the rapidly cooling drink he wondered whether he should drink it or not. It looked really disgusting. In his room he had proper tea bags, but this hotel – luxury as it was – failed to have any possibility to obtain plain boiled water.


It wasn't until the disgusting cup of a liquid-he-couldn't-bring-himself-to-call-tea had cooled down completely to room temperature that he decided to go to his room and get his own tea. He could probably ask the waiter hot water when he would go to eat dinner. He could have his cup of tea while he was waiting for his food.

He nodded to himself and stood, taking the cup to the tray with dirty plates and set a firm pace towards the elevator. He was glad to be standing in the elevator on his own, his tea-deprived bad mood not suitable for company.

Walking through the empty hall, he was surprised by a loud thump. He turned around curiously, but the hall was empty behind him. It seemed to have come from one of the rooms.

He walked to the closest door, clearly hearing another thump – softer this time – when he stood before it. If he remembered correctly, this room was shared by Poland and Lithuania.

For all he knew, Poland could be rather clumsy. What was going on in there wasn't his business at all, but Lithuania just could be hurt and bleeding with the oblivious Pole prancing around like an idiot behind that door.

He softly laid an ear against the door. He could distinguish a soft moaning, but he still couldn't be sure whether it was out of pain or… well, the other reason one could moan like that. The doors were surprisingly sound-proof.

He decided to open the door, just to make sure everything was alright. One could never know, and Lithuania just might by lying there with a huge hole in his head or something. As he quietly pushed down the handle and nudged the door open a few centimeters, he started wondering how the usually so loud Poland came to be so quiet.

He stifled a gasp as he saw just why the Pole was quiet.

Lithuania was propped up against the headboard of the double bed, eyes closed, face completely flushed and breathing heavily, soft moans escaping his lips. Bent over him was Poland on hands and knees, tight butt clad in a pink miniskirt lifted high in the air, giving England direct view onto virgin white panties with a cute frill on the boarders, keeping in a not-so feminine hard manhood. England was just able to see a dark wet spot on the front of the white panties, as the butt with skirt wiggled from left to right while the owner of said butt had something deep up his throat.

England trembled and pushed himself against the wall next to the door. He didn't mean to look at something like that at all, but now he did it was frustratingly arousing to watch. He licked his dry lips as he peeked around the corner, just enough to enjoy Lithuania shuddering as Poland hummed happily. Poland's face rose, a trace of fluid – England couldn't tell what fluid – connecting his swollen bottom lip and the shining wet hardness of Lithuania. Lithuania whined softly – an uncommon sound for him – and Poland lapped heavily at the tip, a grin apparent on his face even to be seen from behind.

Poland started to kiss up his partner's chest, slowly pulling apart the shirt and slipping it down the other's shoulders. England was never this thankful for someone keeping his eyes closed. If Lithuania opened his eyes… If he opened his eyes he would see England standing there, watching them as the Pole teased him. But England couldn't stop watching, pressing himself tightly against the wall to keep his own arousal from jumping out on its own accord. He tried to breathe quietly. Oooh, he tried.

Poland's one hand travelled up Lithuania's chest, capturing his cheek and kissing him deeply. The other hand did something more to England's entertainment, slipping over the Pole's side to crawl underneath the skirt. The long feminine fingers lightly caressed the hardness that was stretching the white fabric of the panties to its maximum and then slid backwards. Two fingers elegantly hooked behind the rim of the panties and Poland moaned loud into Lithuania's mouth as he pulled down the panties of his backside, his arousal popping out to bounce back to his stomach. England cursed within when just the slightest moan escaped his lips as the manicured fingers caressed the creamy skin of the Pole's butt.

Suddenly Poland rose to his knees, startling almost the hell out of England. Poland hummed content and the hand that had just been caressing his backside was lifted to glide over his lips. The other hand fingered the border of the frilled panties halfway his thighs, looking almost shy as he did so. The bucking movements of Poland's hips didn't make him look shy at all though. The body of the Pole obscured Lithuania's view, granting England the guts to remain and watch.

The hand slowly dropped down from the lips and slipped behind Poland's back again. England's body stiffened as he saw one wet finger penetrate the hole between the white butt cheeks. Poland moaned, and Lithuania joined the sound directly after. The Lithuanian's hands appeared in England's sight to wrap around the Pole's waist, but he didn't pull. England forced his body to relax when he saw the second glistening finger being added by Poland, preparing himself oh so seductively.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" England stiffened immediately and held back a shriek when a husky voice with a French accent whispered only millimeters from his ear. He tried to pull himself away from the wall, but two arms slipped around his waist and pressed him back against it. A hot mouth latched itself to his neck. England let out an indignant high humming to show his discomfort, hoping the Frenchman would let go of him and he would be able to get out of this thoroughly embarrassing situation in the middle of a hall. The Frenchman wouldn't, though.

"You just watch what happens inside, mon chéri." France whispered in a breath against his neck. Realizing he wouldn't get out of this mess undamaged, England decided he could best do what France told him. He couldn't have Lithuania and Poland find out that he was a peeping tom, and France would most certainly not let him go quietly. The fact that the frog was sensually licking his neck and one hand was caressing his chest, slightly pinching his nipples, didn't quite help the situation though.

England pushed his forehead against the wall, forcing his lips to stay shut, as talented fingers ghosted over his nipples. France chuckled. England lifted his head indignant and turned his face around the corner again, to be welcomed by the view of Poland practically fucking himself on three of his own fingers, still on his knees above Lithuania. Two hands loosened his pants, giving some air to his arousal, and slid them down confidently. England gritted his teeth, if only France wasn't so sure of himself.

There was a sudden movement in the room he was spying on, bringing all his attention back to the two almost naked people on the bed and all the adrenaline back into his system. Lithuania had grabbed Poland's shoulders and turned them around. Lithuania was now sitting on top of the seductively grinning Pole and he shoved two fingers next to the three the Pole was already using on himself. Poland's back arched and he hummed in delight, pulling his own hand back to create enough space for Lithuania to play. Poland giggled girlishly as Lithuania panted and finished preparing the Pole.

England tensed again as a wet finger entered him. He moaned, still trying to suppress himself as the French finger started moving inside him. A second and a third finger followed soon, stretching him quickly. If it weren't France, it would probably have hurt. But leave it to France to be skilled enough to skip the hurting part, England thought bitterly.

Lithuania lifted Poland's hips, brushing the skirt up and pulling the panties off completely, careful not to rip them. He pressed the slim body of the blonde against his chest as he fully sheathed himself in one smooth move, making Poland gasp and moan Lithuania's name.

The fingers left England's backside and the hand wrapped around his standing wet arousal that was staining the wall, using the appendage as a very strong argument not to struggle. The other hand pressed against his chest as his hips were lightly directed backwards, France's manhood pushing between his butt cheeks, ready to go. England muffled himself with one hand as France entered. It hurt, but he definitely had more painful sex before. The hand on his manhood stroked slowly, the other hand traced his jaw line and turned his head back to the room they were now spying on together.

Lithuania just started to move, having allowed Poland to get used to it even though he seemed so eager to be pounded into. Poland made squealing sounds and pressed himself against the Lithuanians body, riding his own manhood against the stomach of the male moving inside of him. Lithuania still breathed heavy, but he was moaning as well by now, pushing in and out with a vigor that England hadn't seen in him since Russia had taken him over.

France slowly started to move inside him, the sucking on England's neck most probably to keep himself silent as well. England tried his hardest to keep down his moans. But it was useless as the sounds were simply pushed out of him with every move of the Frenchman inside him. He heard Poland exclaim Lithuania's human name at the exact same time France hit his prostate, a low moan escaping him together with a gasp. Poland was becoming louder and louder, moving his hips violently with the Lithuanians, but England was by now too preoccupied himself. He pushed his forehead against the wall again, pressing back into France's bucking hips.

"Francis, please," he would later hit himself for begging.

France smirked against his neck, "Mais bien sûr, Arthur." France started to move his hand along England's shaft, while he kept hitting England's prostate with just enough strength to make it absolutely pleasurable but not enough to help England to his orgasm.

"Liet! Toris, touch me!"

England heard Lithuania growl. "Feliks, almost…"

England couldn't help but shiver at the passion in their voices.

A forceful twist of France's wrist helped him out of his thoughts, gasping loudly and bucking forward in the Frenchman's hand. France hit his prostate dead-on once more and he came, shuddering over his whole body as France carefully wrapped another hand over his on his mouth to smother the high delighted sounds he couldn't stop. He felt France stiffen and teeth sunk a little bit in his shoulders as he as well came, filling the Briton with his seeds. England knew he would regret this the rest of the evening – at least until it would stop streaming out of his ass with every move he would make.

France's arm moved past him to silently close the door as the sounds of the other two climaxing started to flood through the opening of the door.

France slowly pulled out and slightly bend his knees to pick up England's trousers, pulling them back up and fastening them neatly. One more lick was given over the spot on his shoulder that had been bitten and sucked onto, before France subtly pulled up the collar of his shirt to cover the red mark.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, Arthur, I hope you did not mind too much."

"Yes, yes," he muttered a little dazed, "I guess I didn't mind. Just don't do it too often."

"Of course, mon chéri, not too often," France grinned against his cheek, leaving a light peck before turning around and walking towards the elevator at the end of the hall with swaying hips.

Finally England felt his face turning beet red and he stomped to his own hotel room, smashing the door behind him and hurrying towards the shower.

That bloody frog!

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