Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/153066.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hetalia:_Axis_Powers
  Relationship:
      Spain_(Hetalia)/Netherlands_(Hetalia)
  Character:
      Spain_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), Netherlands_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers)
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Underage_Character, Hand_Jobs, Anthropomorphism_-_Freefom,
      Historical, Age_Difference, Jealousy, Anger, Dubious_Consent, Immortals,
      Kink_Meme
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-01-17 Words: 2368
****** Put Away Childish Things ******
by ZaliaChimera
Summary
     Spain has everything that Holland wants; freedom, power, and the
     adulthood that Holland lacks despite his countless years of life. He
     hates being seen as a child just because of his body's form.
Notes
     Title: Put Away Childish Things
     Fandom: Hetalia
     Author: Zalia Chimera
     Rating: NC-17
     Pairing: Spain/Holland
     Warnings: Dub-con, sex, underage (sort of - Holland looks about 12,
     but is several centuries old.)
     Notes: Kink meme de-anon.
Spain's suite of rooms was dark when Holland arrived, and the young nation
grumbled softly to himself as he struggled to balance a wine jug beneath his
arm while lighting one of the lamps with his candle. The lamp finally caught,
casting enough light to see by, although it made the shadows flicker eerily
across the walls. He padded over to the table, intending to just leave the wine
there and damn whatever Spain might say in the morning.
He set it down and turned to leave, but a familiar voice drifted out from the
bedchamber, stopping him in his tracks. "Holland? That you?"
Holland scowled darkly. Figured that Spain wouldn't actually be asleep.
"Yes sir," he called back, hoisting the jug and candle once more and heading
into the bedroom. With the light from the candle, he could just made out the
flash of Spain's eyes within the room, and then the lines of Spain's nude body
as he drew closer to the bed. Holland could easily see how toned and powerful
he was when he wasn't swathed in the accoutrements of Empire. His sweat-slick
skin glistened in the flickering light, and when he sat up, the sheets slid
down over his hips, revealing his cock, soft and heavy between his legs,
nestled in a thatch of dark hair.
Spain wasn't alone. There was a woman curled next to him, one slim arm thrown
carelessly over the older nation's waist.
Spain's eyes were heavy lidded and there was a long clay pipe in his mouth
which he set down as Holland approached. It emitted a sweet cloying smoke. He
smiled, all white teeth and empty promises, when Holland offered him the wine.
"Pour it," he ordered quietly.
Holland's scowl deepened, but he leaned over, having to press close to Spain to
pour the wine, able to feel Spain's warmth against his body unpleasantly. He
sneaked a look at the woman in bed with Spain as he did; she had long dark hair
and full breasts, the sheet pulled down to expose the curve of her hips. Oh, it
made his mouth water.
He started when fingers closed around his wrist tightly, drawing him back, and
the movement spilled wine over the brim of the cup, over his fingers and down
his arm. Spain smirked and raised Holland's fingers to his lips, drawing one
into his mouth and delicately licking the wine away.
A hot flush of anger spread across Holland's face and he tried to tear his hand
away, but Spain's fingers just tightened, the Empire that much stronger than he
was. "Ah, my Holland," he said smoothly, "you enjoy the sight, hm?"
Holland swallowed thickly, and have a short, sharp nod, glancing over at the
woman once more. There were bruises on her wrists, he could see now, and he
could imagine Spain's hands sliding around them, holding her down as they... He
looked away sharply.
Spain chuckled warmly, his thumb rubbing over the inside of Holland's wrist.
"I've seen you, you know? With the servant girls and the women in the market.
You like to look at them. You'd like to do more, but ah, they all see you as a
child don't they? A little boy."
Holland's free hand bunched into a fist at his side, expression taut and angry
because it was true damn it. He was old, centuries old, old enough to know what
went on in the bedroom, to want it, but stuck in the body of a child looking no
more than twelve or thirteen, androgynous and nearly hairless.
"Such an angry face!" A sudden tug left him off-balance, enough for Spain to
pull him back so that he was sat on Spain's lap, back to the older nation's
chest, and it made him sick with envy because he could feel how broad and toned
Spain was in comparison to him. He couldn't really be that much younger than
Spain!
Spain laughed, lips pressing against Holland's ear, the touch of his breath
making Holland shiver, not entirely unpleasantly. "I don't see you as a child,
my Holland." Spain nudged up the hem of Holland's rough-spun shirt, his
calloused fingers splaying across Holland's flat stomach. It was ticklish, made
his muscles clench up beneath the touch even as Holland shifted uncomfortably.
"No, I know how old you are," Spain continued, voice practically a purr. "I
know you're old enough for adult things."
Holland squirmed, but Spain's arm tightened around him, holding him fast. His
free hand pulled Holland's shirt down, exposing one shoulder and he pressed his
lips to it. Holland could feel the flick of his tongue. His shoulders hunched
up, body tense all over, but Spain just took the opportunity to explore the
flex of his muscles, tongue sliding down over his shoulder-blade.
"Stop it," Holland hissed, trying to struggle away.
Spain bit down hard on his shoulder; he was sure that he could feel blood
welling up beneath Spain's teeth, and Holland cried out only for a large hand
to close over his mouth, stifling the noise. "Now now, don't want to wake her,
do we? She'd send you away, say that children can't be involved."
Even though Holland knew that he was being manipulated, it still made him growl
in frustration. He wasn't a child, he was a Nation, older than they could
imagine and they still treated him like this!
Spain hummed softly, the hand against his stomach sliding further up, against
his breastbone to stroke one of his nipples lightly. It made him shiver.
Spain's breath was hot against the back of his neck as the touching continued,
his fingers stroking Holland's nipples until they became hard, then gave one of
them a sharp pinch dragging a guttural noise from Holland's mouth. Spain
chuckled. "Like that, do you?" he asked, pulling Holland back roughly when he
tried to get away again.
Spain grabbed for the glass of wine with his free hand, taking a long draught
before setting the cup aside once more. His fingers slid up beneath Holland's
chin, forcing his head around, gripping his chin hard when Holland refused to
make it easy. Spain's eyes were dark with lust and whatever it was that he had
been smoking. When Spain kissed him, Holland kept his lips tight shut, prepared
to take a slap for it, but Spain just looked amused. "So stubborn. Maybe you
are a child after all," Spain said, and the hint of scorn in his voice was
enough to make Holland snarl and part his lips, kissing back roughly and
clumsily, trying to force his tongue into Spain's mouth, a childish parody of
what he'd seen the human adults do.
Spain seemed pleased by the sudden reciprocation and his tongue ran along
Holland's lips, the ridges of his teeth, the complete skilled opposite of
Holland's clumsy attempts. Holland knew that he was being played, goaded into
doing exactly what Spain wanted, but the jab had stung enough that he didn't
care.
Spain's hand moved lower, down beneath the wait of Holland's breeches, and
Holland jerked away from the kiss, a strangled noise escaping him as Spain's
large hand wrapped around his flaccid penis. Spain pressed their lips together
again, hard, swallowing down Holland's cry.
"Do you touch yourself, Holland?" Spain purred against his lips, cupping
Holland's dick, feeling its weight in his hand and damn it, Holland could feel
the shameful flush of arousal beginning there, body quickening beneath Spain's
skilled touch. "Do you touch yourself like this?" Spain asked again, a slight
hitch to his voice as he squeezed and stroked, drawing Holland to full
hardness. "In your room at night, on your own, imagining everything that's
closed off to you, thinking of the curves of a woman's body."
Spain's thumb slid over the tip of his cock and then... stopped. Holland looked
around wildly, wide eyes and a dark flush on his cheeks. Spain's smile slipped
into a smirk and he ran his thumb down Holland's sharp cheekbone in a touch
that might have been tender if Holland couldn't sense the mocking intention
behind it. "Well, do you, my Holland?"
Holland tried to buck his hips up against Spain's hand, because Spain had
started this and he was damn well going to finish it!, but Spain moved quickly,
holding him back, keeping him from gaining any relief. Finally, the young
nation hung his head and growled through gritted teeth, "Yes." The shameful
admission made Spain crow in satisfaction, nuzzling the back of Holland's neck
with exaggerated affection as though Holland had just declared undying love for
him. Who knew what went on in Spain's head anyway?
He did however, touch Holland's cock again, and that was what was at the
forefront of Holland's mind right then. "Ngh..." The strangled noise escaped
him before he could clamp his lips shut to throttle it.
Spain cooed. "Ah, you make such pretty sounds like this! I think I'd like to
hear you when you can make as much noise as you want, with only me to hear."
Holland's breath caught in his throat, ice replacing his blood for a moment at
the promise and hot desire in Spain's voice. He could do it, Holland knew. No
room was barred from the master of the house and Holland was Habsburg property.
"I'm not Romano, you sick..." The words were cut off by another squeeze to his
sensitive cock, making him arch and squirm and he could feel Spain's dick, half
hard, against the small of his back.
Holland bared his teeth at the single example of an exploitable weakness,
looking over his shoulder at the other nation. "Can't get it up, bastard? Like
a worn out empire?"
That was perhaps one step too far. Spain dragged him round and backhanded him
roughly, although his smile never faltered, still jovial and warm. It turned
Holland's head, left a sharp stinging mark against his cheek and he tasted
blood in his mouth where his tooth had caught the inside of his cheek.
"I was wrong," Spain hissed, "you're not cute at all." There was a darkness in
Spain's eyes that made goosebumps rise all across Holland's skin. The woman
stirred, but rolled over without waking, apparently oblivious to what was going
on. Holland wondered madly whether she'd been sharing Spain's pipe and it had
left her insensible.
He expected Spain to let him go, but his grip just tightened, pulling Holland
up against him, rubbing his hips against Holland's until the friction of rough
cloth against his cock made Holland cry out. He swallowed it down with a
nipping biting kiss which made the blood-taste worse.
And he was still hard, hated it, wanted it, and he could take it, he could and
one day he'd prove that to Spain, that he would be just as big and powerful and
better than him.
Spain grabbed Holland's wrist, hard enough that he could feel the bones
grinding together, and pulled it lower until Holland's fingers brushed the tip
of Spain's cock, now slick with pre-come, and hard, even that small violence a
powerful aphrodisiac for the empire. He kept tight hold as he forced Holland's
fingers around the length, forcing him to stroke Spain, the thick flesh hard
and hot. Spain rocked up against him, keeping Holland's strokes firm and
steady. "Much better," he groaned, kissing the junction of Holland's shoulder
and neck, biting down and leaving marks which wouldn't fade quickly. "Little
Holland, just like that..."
Holland growled at the comment and leaned in to bite down hard on Spain's
shoulder, tasting sweat and skin, determined that Spain would remember this. It
was a heady feeling, having Spain shudder beneath him like that, even when his
cock was given a painful squeeze which sent a flash of pain through him. Spain
smirked, a cruel expression, and leaning close, even as his grip gentled. "I
will always have the bigger claws, my Holland."
His thumb slid over the head of Holland's cock, rough strokes dragging Holland
close to the edge, his young body so sensitive and his stamina so poor. Heat
coiled in his belly and Spain didn't seem any closer, was calm and cool and
Holland hated him for that and for every little wrong Spain had done to him.
He tensed all over, the heat blooming fast and hot as he came, his shriek
muffled once more by Spain's hand, holding him tight as he spilled over Spain's
hand. And Spain was gentle as he let him ride it out, the pleasure flashing
inside his skull and in his groin, and he hated him for that even more.
He found himself leaning up against Spain's warm chest, curled against him like
a child, and he quickly pulled away as though burned. He was sticky down there.
It was disgusting. When he moved, his cock brushed against Spain's body,
sensitive enough to hurt.
Spain was still hard.
He looked up at Spain's face, wishing that he couldn't feel the heat in his
cheeks, his scowl darker than ever as he stumbled to his feet and away from
Spain.
Spain laughed, reaching out to pat him condescendingly on the top of his head,
mussing his hair. "Such a cute little boy, my Holland. Isn't it time for you to
be in bed?"
Holland's eyes widened at the words, and he could only stare in impotent and
confused rage as Spain turned away, back to his bedmate. He moved to straddle
her, rousing her from her slumber and paying Holland no more mind as he began
to cup her breasts, his cock rubbing against her flat stomach.
Some emotion he couldn't quite put a proper name to flooded through him, like
jealousy except he wasn't jealous, not of Spain because he'd be powerful too
one day, and certainly not of the woman who Spain was touching now, one hand
slid between her legs.
The thought made him sick.
He snatched his little candle and hurried from the room, the conversation
following him, obscenely loud in his ears.
"Who was that, Antonio?"
"Mmm? Oh him. Just a serving boy. No need to concern yourself over a child."
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