[Fanfic] A Swiss By Any Other Name
Apr. 2nd, 2010 04:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: A Swiss By Any Other Name
Genre: Romance/Humour
Pairing: AustriaxSwitzerland
Rating/Warnings: NC-17. Improper use of a flower.
Summary: Roderich finds a new and inventive way of getting an irritable Vash in the mood, which turns out better than he thought it would.
“Get off me.”
“I beg your-”
“Get off! If you’re going to start tapping out the tune to Süssmayr’s Sinfonia Turchesca on my hip while you’re trying to seduce me you can just- Agh, God, you’re so infuriating!”
“I...”
The blonde huffed irritably and turned over, leaving Roderich puzzled and ever so slightly chagrined. Still, for the moment at least, the Austrian was content to simply look at the smaller man, his dark eyes able to move at leisure over the pale, perfect skin without the worry of a sudden harsh remark to snap him out of his thoughts.
Vash was indeed quite... quite exquisite. A full symphony could be written in praise of the way his soft blonde hair brushed just below the nape of his neck, the curve of his hip, the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. Even when Vash was trying to be hard and cold he was still so delicate, so warm, so very beautiful.
“Stop looking at me,” he grumbled suddenly. “I can feel your damn purple-prose inner monologue from here.”
Roderich couldn’t help but smile and he sat up, glancing about the room, his attention falling to the vase of roses beside the bed. He picked one out of the bouquet, stroking his finger over one of the blushing pink petals, twirling the half-opened flower idly. In many ways, the Austrian thought, Vash was very much like a flower. No, he was not particularly refined, nor fragile. He would not bow at the first hint of a strong wind and yet, in Roderich’s eyes at least, he was most definitely comparable to the rose now held in his hand. Nobody could deny that Vash had a rather thorny personality, and heaven knew Roderich saw the sharp side of it often enough, but he also had his gentler moods, as rare as they were.
Those were the moments that he locked into his memory – when Vash, sound asleep, would press himself close to Roderich’s chest and allow himself to be held, curled small and slight and defenceless against the Austrian’s body, and Roderich would tuck the smaller man’s blonde head gently beneath his chin and bear the irritated mutterings the following morning when the Swiss woke up.
Yes, Vash was most definitely like a rose.
He shook himself, and glanced over to the man, spinning the flower once more between his fingers before he lightly, almost tentatively, grazed the soft petals against Vash’s shoulder. Immediately, Vash tensed, a hunching of his shoulders that would be imperceptible to most. Roderich repeated the action, his gaze following the movement of the flower as it trailed down Vash’s arm.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Like hell you are, do you think I’m...” Vash shifted onto his back, annoyed, lifting his hand to bat the flower away, his voice trailing off as Roderich didn’t flinch, didn’t draw back, only brushed it lightly over the backs of his fingers, down over his wrist. The silence lasted barely a moment before the Swiss frowned, green eyes flicking over to glare at the other man. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Roderich didn’t answer, he just smiled, and the rose continued its path along Vash’s arm. The blonde’s hand remained suspended in mid-air, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it as the Austrian remained unperturbed by his glaring.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but he was pinned in place, pink petals sweeping over his collarbone.
“Would you rather I stop?” Roderich asked, the flower coming to rest over the fluttering pulse at Vash’s throat. He paused, then traced the line of his jaw and moved down, following the man’s pale blush down his neck to his chest.
“Nn...” Vash’s breath hitched. He closed his eyes, but not before Roderich saw the confusion in them, anything that might have come close to anger lost beneath conflicting reactions to this new situation. Another smile touched the Austrian’s lips and he took the lack of protest as a sign to continue.
There was no inch of visible skin not kissed by the velvet petals of the pale pink rose as Roderich patiently worked his way over Vash’s slim form. There were protests, half-hearted, muttered under the Swiss man’s quiet gasps as his body quivered beneath the touch of the flower, but these soon died in favour of soft, trembling breaths as Vash twisted his fingers into the sheets and held on tightly, eyes squeezed shut. When the contact shifted lower, drawing a path between his hips, he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth and his eyes opened, finding Roderich’s and locking to them briefly before turning to watch the progress of the flower.
For Roderich, this was both frustrating and gratifying, and if the latter had not outweighed the former so heavily he would have already abandoned this endeavour in favour of taking advantage of his lover’s lack of composure. Vash was flushed, panting quietly, his hips twitching up each time the rose passed below his navel. He was fighting against the urge to lift his knees, toes curling against the sheets, shoulders tense and his lower lip caught between his teeth in a futile effort to muffle the quiet sounds rising in his throat.
It was surprising that Vash was so willingly submitting to this kind of treatment. Roderich would not have thought that the short-tempered Swiss would be so weak to acts like this, the kinds of things that would be scorned and mocked should they be brought up in conversation. The petals brushed against the insides of his thighs, down from one knee and up towards the other. The blonde whimpered, and Roderich paused, committing the sound to memory, and then he lifted the flower and brought it down to place a petalled kiss atop the slender blonde’s neglected erection.
“A-aah...” Vash broke. He tipped his head back and let out a needy, vulnerable sound that sent shivers through Roderich’s body. The Austrian took a moment to collect himself, closing his eyes and drawing a steadying breath.
“R-Roderich... I want-” The Swiss stopped, shut his eyes, and swallowed. Roderich waited, trailing the flower idly up and down the man’s shaft, each upwards stroke bringing Vash’s hips with it as he bucked helplessly. The Austrian knew better than to speak, to break the atmosphere with a question that didn’t need to be spoken. Yet, it was several long moments of Vash quietly gasping and squirming restlessly before his lips parted and he gave voice to a long, low moan. His eyes opened, hazed and struggling to focus as his gaze slid over to meet Roderich’s. He lifted one hand and brushed the backs of his fingers up the taller man’s jaw, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb gently over the mole below his lip. The brunette shuddered, and clasped his free hand over his lover’s, turning his head to press his lips to the man’s palm.
Roderich was pulled off-balance as a slim arm wrapped around his shoulders and dragged him down, pulling him into a deep, insistent, demanding kiss that instantly wiped away any desire that the Austrian might have had to continue torturing the blonde. The rose was abandoned in favour of Roderich’s hand and the response was instant as Vash’s body jolted and rocked towards the contact. Their kiss turned messy, hurried and it was barely a minute of those nimble musician’s fingers moving over sensitised skin before Vash stiffened and threw his head back, letting out a choked cry of something that might have been Roderich’s name, splashing white across his stomach and over the Austrian’s hand as he rode out his climax.
Shuddering, Vash slowly relaxed, the tension easing out of every muscle as the afterglow of his orgasm swam up to his cheeks, tinting them a soft pink. Roderich found the rose and picked it up, twirling it between two fingers while Vash watched with half-lidded eyes.
“I think I’m going to order some more roses,” Roderich mused quietly. Vash’s cheeks reddened and he looked away sharply, and this time Roderich did dare to playfully nuzzle the man’s cheek, smiling and catching his lips in a brief kiss. The Swiss man huffed, grumbled, all rather ineffectually.
“Shut up.”
Genre: Romance/Humour
Pairing: AustriaxSwitzerland
Rating/Warnings: NC-17. Improper use of a flower.
Summary: Roderich finds a new and inventive way of getting an irritable Vash in the mood, which turns out better than he thought it would.
*****
“Get off me.”
“I beg your-”
“Get off! If you’re going to start tapping out the tune to Süssmayr’s Sinfonia Turchesca on my hip while you’re trying to seduce me you can just- Agh, God, you’re so infuriating!”
“I...”
The blonde huffed irritably and turned over, leaving Roderich puzzled and ever so slightly chagrined. Still, for the moment at least, the Austrian was content to simply look at the smaller man, his dark eyes able to move at leisure over the pale, perfect skin without the worry of a sudden harsh remark to snap him out of his thoughts.
Vash was indeed quite... quite exquisite. A full symphony could be written in praise of the way his soft blonde hair brushed just below the nape of his neck, the curve of his hip, the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. Even when Vash was trying to be hard and cold he was still so delicate, so warm, so very beautiful.
“Stop looking at me,” he grumbled suddenly. “I can feel your damn purple-prose inner monologue from here.”
Roderich couldn’t help but smile and he sat up, glancing about the room, his attention falling to the vase of roses beside the bed. He picked one out of the bouquet, stroking his finger over one of the blushing pink petals, twirling the half-opened flower idly. In many ways, the Austrian thought, Vash was very much like a flower. No, he was not particularly refined, nor fragile. He would not bow at the first hint of a strong wind and yet, in Roderich’s eyes at least, he was most definitely comparable to the rose now held in his hand. Nobody could deny that Vash had a rather thorny personality, and heaven knew Roderich saw the sharp side of it often enough, but he also had his gentler moods, as rare as they were.
Those were the moments that he locked into his memory – when Vash, sound asleep, would press himself close to Roderich’s chest and allow himself to be held, curled small and slight and defenceless against the Austrian’s body, and Roderich would tuck the smaller man’s blonde head gently beneath his chin and bear the irritated mutterings the following morning when the Swiss woke up.
Yes, Vash was most definitely like a rose.
He shook himself, and glanced over to the man, spinning the flower once more between his fingers before he lightly, almost tentatively, grazed the soft petals against Vash’s shoulder. Immediately, Vash tensed, a hunching of his shoulders that would be imperceptible to most. Roderich repeated the action, his gaze following the movement of the flower as it trailed down Vash’s arm.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Like hell you are, do you think I’m...” Vash shifted onto his back, annoyed, lifting his hand to bat the flower away, his voice trailing off as Roderich didn’t flinch, didn’t draw back, only brushed it lightly over the backs of his fingers, down over his wrist. The silence lasted barely a moment before the Swiss frowned, green eyes flicking over to glare at the other man. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Roderich didn’t answer, he just smiled, and the rose continued its path along Vash’s arm. The blonde’s hand remained suspended in mid-air, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it as the Austrian remained unperturbed by his glaring.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but he was pinned in place, pink petals sweeping over his collarbone.
“Would you rather I stop?” Roderich asked, the flower coming to rest over the fluttering pulse at Vash’s throat. He paused, then traced the line of his jaw and moved down, following the man’s pale blush down his neck to his chest.
“Nn...” Vash’s breath hitched. He closed his eyes, but not before Roderich saw the confusion in them, anything that might have come close to anger lost beneath conflicting reactions to this new situation. Another smile touched the Austrian’s lips and he took the lack of protest as a sign to continue.
There was no inch of visible skin not kissed by the velvet petals of the pale pink rose as Roderich patiently worked his way over Vash’s slim form. There were protests, half-hearted, muttered under the Swiss man’s quiet gasps as his body quivered beneath the touch of the flower, but these soon died in favour of soft, trembling breaths as Vash twisted his fingers into the sheets and held on tightly, eyes squeezed shut. When the contact shifted lower, drawing a path between his hips, he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth and his eyes opened, finding Roderich’s and locking to them briefly before turning to watch the progress of the flower.
For Roderich, this was both frustrating and gratifying, and if the latter had not outweighed the former so heavily he would have already abandoned this endeavour in favour of taking advantage of his lover’s lack of composure. Vash was flushed, panting quietly, his hips twitching up each time the rose passed below his navel. He was fighting against the urge to lift his knees, toes curling against the sheets, shoulders tense and his lower lip caught between his teeth in a futile effort to muffle the quiet sounds rising in his throat.
It was surprising that Vash was so willingly submitting to this kind of treatment. Roderich would not have thought that the short-tempered Swiss would be so weak to acts like this, the kinds of things that would be scorned and mocked should they be brought up in conversation. The petals brushed against the insides of his thighs, down from one knee and up towards the other. The blonde whimpered, and Roderich paused, committing the sound to memory, and then he lifted the flower and brought it down to place a petalled kiss atop the slender blonde’s neglected erection.
“A-aah...” Vash broke. He tipped his head back and let out a needy, vulnerable sound that sent shivers through Roderich’s body. The Austrian took a moment to collect himself, closing his eyes and drawing a steadying breath.
“R-Roderich... I want-” The Swiss stopped, shut his eyes, and swallowed. Roderich waited, trailing the flower idly up and down the man’s shaft, each upwards stroke bringing Vash’s hips with it as he bucked helplessly. The Austrian knew better than to speak, to break the atmosphere with a question that didn’t need to be spoken. Yet, it was several long moments of Vash quietly gasping and squirming restlessly before his lips parted and he gave voice to a long, low moan. His eyes opened, hazed and struggling to focus as his gaze slid over to meet Roderich’s. He lifted one hand and brushed the backs of his fingers up the taller man’s jaw, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb gently over the mole below his lip. The brunette shuddered, and clasped his free hand over his lover’s, turning his head to press his lips to the man’s palm.
Roderich was pulled off-balance as a slim arm wrapped around his shoulders and dragged him down, pulling him into a deep, insistent, demanding kiss that instantly wiped away any desire that the Austrian might have had to continue torturing the blonde. The rose was abandoned in favour of Roderich’s hand and the response was instant as Vash’s body jolted and rocked towards the contact. Their kiss turned messy, hurried and it was barely a minute of those nimble musician’s fingers moving over sensitised skin before Vash stiffened and threw his head back, letting out a choked cry of something that might have been Roderich’s name, splashing white across his stomach and over the Austrian’s hand as he rode out his climax.
Shuddering, Vash slowly relaxed, the tension easing out of every muscle as the afterglow of his orgasm swam up to his cheeks, tinting them a soft pink. Roderich found the rose and picked it up, twirling it between two fingers while Vash watched with half-lidded eyes.
“I think I’m going to order some more roses,” Roderich mused quietly. Vash’s cheeks reddened and he looked away sharply, and this time Roderich did dare to playfully nuzzle the man’s cheek, smiling and catching his lips in a brief kiss. The Swiss man huffed, grumbled, all rather ineffectually.
“Shut up.”
