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It's hard and rough, his fingers digging into her hips, his hand pressing down on her back as Prussia fucks her with slow even strokes. Romana curses, one 3 inch stiletto heel narrowly missing his foot as she stamps it, arching her back to try and get him to go faster, harder, anything more that this teasing pace. He laughs, the leather of his gloves dragging across her skin before his hand smacks down once on her ass, gripping the flesh tightly as she cries out, her body stiffening. She curses in Sicilian, words rougher than her Neapolitan dialect.
Prussia laughs again; a hand in her hair, pull her to face him, teeth tracing her jaw line, before biting down. She cries out, clenching around his cock and he curses, fingers tightening until the hand in her hair is painful and Romana whimpers softly. He knows what she means and finally he lets go, her head dropping back to the table, her lips moving in a frantic chant as he finally speeds up his thrusts.
There's paperwork sticking to her cheek, letters in German that blur together and he knocked over her coffee when he first pushed her on the table, his mouth hot, teeth sharp as his dragged them over her bared throat. The line of dark brown liquid is flowing down the table, nearing the edge and she can't stop staring at it, even as her legs buckle, her fingers curling into tight fists and her voice catches in her throat.
She feels the zip of her dress being drawn down, the noise perfectly clear despite her mumbles, their harsh breathing. He undoes her bra with skill, leather sliding over her bared flesh, under her body to push the lace cup from her skin, her breast fitting perfectly into his palm. Romana hisses, Prussia's fingers easily pinching a hard nipple and he laughs, breath warm against her ear. He's leaning over her, thrusts slowing down again and she curses him, foot stamping again as one of her own hands flies back, gripping him by his stupid pale blonde, silver, whatever hair and dragging him closer, her lips sliding over his cheek to his mouth to form an awkward kiss. The bastard's still fully dressed she realises, the buttons of his coat pressing into the flesh of her back. He pushes her skirt up higher, and she can feel his belt buckle press into her as he jerks his head from her hold, taking the hand and slamming it back down on the table.
He likes to pretend they play by his rules, that he's in control. He starts it, every time, even if it's just with glances. A quirk of an eyebrow. A smirk of lips. Teasing, light touches down her bare arm until she cracks, twists her fingers into his jacket and slams her mouth against his, lets him push her back against a desk, stealing her cry of pain with his mouth. He pushes her skirt up, drags lace panties down and presses his fingers in deep thrusting them hard and fast, not caring if she's not ready for him. She's always ready, when he teases her, but a bit of preparation would be nice. Sometimes if he feels nice he'll bend her over the desk and use his mouth, fucking her with his tongue, his hands pushing her hips hard against the biting side of the desk. He laughs at her attempts to be quiet, pulling her hands away from her mouth, holding them down with one of his own while the fingers of the other curls inside her, slowly down to agony until she begs, begs him to fuck her.
Prussia drags her back into the present by pulling her back on his cock, fucking her hard now. Her body’s on fire and she can hear him starting to grunt softly, knowing that he’s as close as she is. Swallowing, she bites her lip, arches her back and tries to hold back a climax, wanting to at least have that to lord over him. His hand lands on her backside again, the other cheek, leaving another red mark when he notices and Romana whimpers softly, knowing she’s not going to win now. Still she squirms, trying to make it harder for him. It’s no use and his fingers find her curl with ease, his thrusts deeper as he curls it around two fingers and uses his thumb to stroke along the single strange.
She orgasms with a shriek she knows can probably be heard throughout the building, and Prussia cackles before grunting, burying himself inside her as he comes, thrusting a few more times to make her twitch and shudder. He stops and lets her curl go at the same time, but he doesn’t back off, his hand slowly stroking down her spine, surprisingly gentle. He’s always like this, the few minutes after they cum, soft, tender, a man she knows he both wishes he could be and will never be. He’s a child of war, and she’s a daughter of empires, and neither of them will have the tenderness that their siblings have. Neither of them fully want that, knowing that the harder they are, the softer the younger can be.
Prussia pulls out without a word, tucking himself back into his pants, and leaves with only the sound of his boots on the floor. Groaning, she slumps properly against the table, her breathing starting to slow. She can feel his semen starting to drip out of her, knows she needs to straighten up before someone catches her so exposed. She’s surprised someone hasn’t come along yet, she makes enough noise to be an alarm he says.
With a low groan she pushes herself up, dress slipping off her shoulders. Clasping her bra is the first thing she deals with, before zipping her dress back up and drawing her panties up from where they caught on her knees, Prussia too impatient to pull them off properly. They both prefer it that way, just like she prefers not to look at him when he fucks her. It destroys the idea that this is anything more but sex. Because anything more terrifies them both.
Fixing her skirt, she draws her fingers through her twisted hair, surveying the room. It reeks of sex, the papers are scattered and the split coffee is dripping onto the floor, but like hell she’ll be the one the clean it up. Turning on heel she leaves the room, trying to ignore the slight ache that’s already developing in her body.
It’s rough, and it hurts.
But it’s all they can have