The Day Canada Realized Why Laundry Day is Such a Big Deal
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
People/pairings: Prussia/Canada (or Canada/Prussia, if those kind of things are important to ya)
Word count: about 1600
Genre: ...smut smut and more smut
Rating: not worksafe
Note: LONGEST CHAPTER NAME EVER. Also this is the first complete sex scene I've ever written, so go easy on me, please.
Canada had never been able to figure out why Prussia hated it so much every time Canada announced that he was going to have to collect all the dirty clothes from wherever his fair-haired boyfriend had thrown them about, because he was spending the rest of the day doing laundry. Really, to him it didn’t seem like Prussia had that much to complain about; Canada never asked him to help out (after a few first devastating attempts to have Prussia do his own laundry), and Prussia ended up with a full set of clean, nice smelling clothes without putting any effort in himself.
Also, for some reason, doing laundry always seemed to lead to some other, less cleanly activities, in various locations of whichever’s house they were in. It wasn’t unusual that Canada had to spend the entire next day cleaning the house as well.
And, since Prussia often showed more fervour and enjoyment during these particular days, Canada really couldn’t figure out what the deal was.
Until one day.
Prussia had offered to help his host nation to at least hang up the laundry on this particular day. Since Canada has once seen Prussia’s attempts at “hanging up the laundry”, he knew he’d have to supervise the albino’s work. Maybe even re-do it once to make sure none of the shirts and socks would fall down on the floor in the laundry room the moment the two of them left it.
Canada was in the room setting the laundry machine for another go as Prussia came walking in after him. That morning, when the two of them checked their drawers, Prussia had come to realize that he had, in fact, not a single clean garment to put on. Not even underwear. Canada had sighed and offered him his own closet to choose from, before he left the room to get the laundry started.
Prussia joined him ten minutes later.
Dressed in nothing but Canada’s national hockey team’s match shirt.
All of a sudden, Canada’s throat felt very dry.
“I found this, hey, ain’t it cool!” Prussia said, twisting the shirt in his grip to have a better look at the red and white markings. Canada attempted to swallow to dampen his mouth once more, but when he caught a glimpse of what was underneath the hockey shirt – or rather, wasn’t under the hockey shirt – the swallow turned into a cough.
“P-prussia?” Canada attempted. He thought it sounded mostly like “eh-eh-arhem?” himself, but it caught the albino’s attention none the less. The next attempt at talking went a little better. “Wh-why aren’t you w-wearing your und… derwear?”
“Mine’s in the laundry, duh!” Prussia pointed out, shrugging.
“What about mine?”
“I’m not wearing another dude’s fucking undies,” the albino answered. “Not even yours, kid.”
Canada clenched his hand around the tank top he was holding to keep it from shaking. He was finding it a bit hard to concentrate on the words he wanted to get through his gritted teeth. Prussia’s legs, sticking out from under the white and red hockey shirt, was very distracting. He attempted to avert his eyes, searching for safer regions which to have his attention claimed by, but that just either led him to Prussia’s mussed, colourless hair, or the hickey shirt.
The damned hockey shirt.
The blond barely had the time to lift his eyes – with much hardship – to Prussia’s face, before that one face was quite a bit closer to his than it had been the previous second. Canada kept himself from jumping backwards and bumping his hip hard against the washing machine by some miracle, but he couldn’t help gasping from Prussia’s sudden advance.
“Hey, you…” Prussia begun, and Canada felt a small shudder trace the length of his spine. “You like this, don’tcha?” he continued, the corners of his lips twisting upwards into a knowing smirk. “You like seeing me dressed in noting but your colours, marked by your flag, just like any conquering nation would.” Prussia took one step even closer to the blond nation, causing the hem of the shirt to shift against Canada’s own clothes. He could feel the heat of Prussia’s body through the minimal distance still kept between them, as the albino continued, adding a pause after every word; “You. Want. To. Conquer. My. Vital. Regions.”
Canada had no idea if Prussia regretted being so smug ten minutes later, when he was bent forward with Canada’s cock buried deep inside him as he scrambled along the edges of the laundry machine to attempt to find some kind of support. If the support he searched for was in order to give him leverage to pull away or to push back, Canada would never know, because the ex-nation seemed to have quite a few problems hooking his fingers around the corners of the machine. It might have been due to the fact that it was now shaking quite brutally due to the centrifuge, but it could also have to do with the fervent pace of Canada’s thrusts.
“Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck,“ was all that Canada could hear over the noise of the machine since a while back. It made his head spin about as fast at the centrifuge, and the thrills of pleasure that ran up and down his back at the sound of Prussia’s voice made him moan loudly. He reached forward, also he searching for leverage, and caught a handful of hockey shirt, which he used to pull himself forward into Prussia even harder.
The movement pushed the albino flat onto the laundry machine, loin creating a perfect curve along the edge of it.
Canada barely even had time to register what he’d done before Prussia was moaning loudly and spasming against him.
“Ah—ah—oh g-god C-Ca…nada…!”
Canada bit down on his lower lip, his entire body quivering, and he had to halt his movements for a moment to keep his body’s reaction under control. In their entire time together, Prussia had never, ever, called Canada’s name while fucking. Not when he was on top, and not the times Canada took him either. Hearing it torn from his lover’s lips now, in a tight voice which betrayed that Prussia hadn’t even meant to say it, was almost enough to make Canada come on the spot.
When the ex-nation thought that the moment had dragged out for too long, he let out a frustrated grunt. His hands fumbled along the edges once more, and this time, he seemed to find something to hold on to; once he had a grip to support himself with, he pushed back against Canada’s hips, reminding him that moving wasn’t optional at the moment. Canada grit his teeth around a groan and squeezed his eyes shut. Right. Moving. He could do that.
As he picked up the pace again, he could feel the laundry machine slowing down once more and going back to a slow, rhythmic spin. Unconsciously, he matched this speed. Under him, Prussia hissed out a request – or maybe it was meant to be interpreted as a threat? – to move faster once more, but Canada didn’t comply, not yet. He wasn’t entirely sure about the theory which had started to form in his head, that it had been the vibrations from the machine against his erection which had made Prussia cry out so wantonly, but he definitely felt that it was worth the wait to find out.
Prussia, however, didn’t seem to be of the same opinion.
“Fuck are you doing,” he growled and attempted to push back harder. When that didn’t work, he twisted his upper body around to glare at the blond. “If you’re gonna fuck me, fuck me properly, damn it!” he demanded.
“Patience is a virtue,” Canada just said. Prussia swore loudly. In reprimand, Canada gave a slightly harder thrust, and the albino fell forward again, face buried against the washing machine as he groaned.
“The hell… did you become so… pushy,” he panted into the hard, white surface.
Canada would have answered that he hadn’t become pushy, he’d been born that way – he just never got the chance to really show it, considering that each and every nation normally surrounding him was even more demanding than he was – but then the centrifuge clicked back on.
And yes, it was the vibrations, combined with Canada’s hard thrusts deep inside of him that drove Prussia absolutely insane. By the time that the ex-nation was crying out again, Canada felt sweat running down his face and back, holding back when he was hanging so close to the edge made his head spin and cock ache. He couldn’t take it anymore, only a few more thrusts, a few more…
“Ah, yes, fuck yes, Ca— Cana— ah—nnngh…!” As Prussia convulsed beneath him, body clenching from the force of his orgasm, he couldn’t take it anymore. With a sharp cry of his own, Canada bent over, burrowing his face in the now damp hockey shirt, and came.
It took them almost five minutes to collect themselves, and by that time, the laundry machine had completed the program, and was standing silent before them, as if it was offended by what had just occurred on top of it. Canada moved reluctantly and nudged Prussia to do the same.
“We should go get you a new change of clothes,” he said.
“I ain’t fucking goin’ anywhere,” Prussia grumbled. “You go get me something.”
“Okay, fine. But you’re not getting to borrow any more of my match shirts. Those are collectibles, you know?”
“Who the hell cares?” Prussia stuck out his tongue, but then he grinned. “I’ll just save ‘em for special occasions, eh?”.”
Canada thought that he finally what it was that made Prussia wince every time he realized that he’d ran out of clean clothes to wear.
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End note: I finished writing smut. I finished writing smut. [tears of happiness]