Author Notes:

-This particular scene is a product of a recent role-play, as is everything else I've written for Hetalia. However, this is not straight from a role-play. Rather it is something referred to by France and Spain – and something which Prussia denies wholeheartedly having ever happened.

-This is in present tense. Because I am strange.

-This is incredibly naughty. I'm gonna go hide under a rock now.

-I turned this into a multi-chapter sex fic. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? I don't know, really; I just don't know anymore.

-I wouldn't call this non-con. The general feeling is that sex would happen between the three of them anyway; the funny part is turning Prussia into a plaything for the other two. (lol me ~ I find it funny and hot at the same time ~ There is definitely something wrong with me~)

Warning: Rated M for the sex (and language and everything else that makes rated M fics worth it). A little bondage enactment. Bad Touch Trio. OOC? Yeah, probably, definitely a little OOC, especially from Prussia – ah – well – I guess that depends on how you see him when he's drunk? I dunno, I like my version of drunk!Prussia, to be honest. And, really, after writing this, I don't care if they're technically OOC or not; I love them like this. France/Prussia/Spain (y'know with a drunk and pissy Prussia stuck in the middle)

Summary: In which Prussia insists he won't ever get drunk before the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio. And then France discovers that the Prussian hasn't touched wine, at all, ever. Is it possible? Could Prussia's weak point be the wine he hates so much? And what do you do with a drunk Prussia anyway?

(You have been warned; proceed now at your own risk.)

~!~

Never Again

Part 1 – France

~!~

"No, I am not drinking your shitty wine!"

Prussia growls this before taking another large gulp of his current mug full of German beer, and France can only tilt his head in mock innocent confusion. It is quite surprising, the absolute hatred Prussia has for the stuff. Almost as if there were something between him and the more refined alcoholic beverage. France is devilishly curious to find out the secret, also disturbed to realize after all these years that there is still something new to uncover from their albino friend.

"Why ever not?"

France asks this as he sits back in his chair, picking up his own little glass of wine to sip lightly, as if to show Prussia that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Prussia growls again, staring from across the round table. "Because it tastes terrible, that's why!"

Spain giggles, as if Prussia had just said something incredibly funny. "It has a much better taste than your beer, I think."

Spain is standing up. Well, no, he's leaning against the counter in the kitchen, just behind Prussia. Not that he looks ready to pounce the albino or anything. When he gets drunk, Spain always loves to cuddle with the soft pale-skinned Prussian, and he always manages to position himself to make it seem like an innocent grab when he starts.

Gilbert shakes his head at the notion of something tasting better than his precious beer – really, these Germans had no sense of good flavor – but he doesn't turn to look at the Spaniard. "Not possible."

To this, France has to scoff. "Antonio has a point, Gil. Your beer is simply awful – especially compared to a good flavor of wine."

And of course, Prussia glares across the table at him. Easily predictable. When France glances up, he notices that Spain has gotten a hold of some rope. Ah, interesting. So when he pounces this time, he actually plans to hold. This night may get interesting after all.

"There is no such thing as a good flavor of wine," Prussia states, as predicted.

France sighs – and brings his glass to his face so he can hide the smirk from their albino friend. He turns to the side to make his attention seem elsewhere so that Prussia will simply focus on his words. Meanwhile, Antonio is inching forward, ready to pounce and tie their friend to the kitchen chair. France has to try hard not to chuckle.

"Ah, mon ami, you cannot say such a thing until you try it." He holds up a hand to stop Gilbert's protest. "What if someone had tried only American beer but assumed all beer – even your precious German beer – tasted the same?"

To which, Gilbert growls. "It's not the sa-" And is interrupted by Toni's successful pounce. "Hey!"

Capture complete. Francis grins across the table now, watching as Gilbert attempts to escape, flailing his head and kicking out but receiving no reward for his efforts. Arms currently pinned to his sides and staunch rope holding him quite firmly in place, Gil is reduced to a raving mad albino tied to France's kitchen chair.

"The fuck, man! What are you doing?"

Antonio's response is a happy giggle and a glomp, wrapping his arms around Prussia and the chair, rubbing their warm cheeks together – though both are warm for different reasons. Francis can tell that Toni is simply drunk now and on a happy high that is more prominent than normal. And Gilbert is just simply mad.

As for him? Well, Francis is smirking wide now, taking another gulp of wine himself before setting the glass down and reaching for an open bottle – a just recently, only-filled-one-glass, open bottle. "I think this is a great opportunity."

Gilbert immediately shifts his attention from the cuddling Spain to France, making his smirk grow even more when he watches the red eyes widen considerably as the pieces fall together. "Oh, hell no. You can't force me to drink that."

Sensing the challenge, France feels his eyes glow. "I bet I can."

"Bet'cha can't!" Prussia snaps, probably more from habit than anything, knowing full well and good that being tied up gives him little choice in any matter.

"Aw, Gil, I'm sure you'll love it," Antonio hums, starting to play with the silver spikes of hair even as Prussia growls at him to stop.

He's stopped kicking now. That's a good thing. He's stopped struggling completely, too, though that's sure to pick up again when France actually starts to shove the bottle down his face. Stepping over on Prussia's free side, Francis grins. Yes. Gilbert is already starting to cringe away, as if the wine is some kind of poison.

"Open wide," France almost coos as he grabs Gilbert's chin to hold him still.

Prussia opens his mouth to shout some obscenity, but that only gives Francis exactly what he wants. Grinning wide, he shoves the bottle in the albino's open mouth and tips it up, watching the liquid flow down, watching the Prussian's eyes widen in disbelief, watching his friend's throat as Gilbert gulps every bit down – because wine or not, he would never waste alcohol. When about a third of the wine bottle is now inside his friend, France pulls the bottle back, allowing Gil to breathe and curse and kick out weakly.

Hm...weakly? Now that is interesting.

The pale-skinned face is red across his nose and a little bit in the cheeks – though Gil, being albino, can never hide a blush or flushed face even if he wants. It may not be the wine only, either. Antonio has been enjoying the situation in his own way, hands unbuttoning the nice blue dress shirt. Strange that Gil is wearing something nice, but he had come from Elizaveta's dinner party. Of course, he'd spent half of their drinking time complaining about Austria being there and how Hungary had barely given "the Great Prussia" any attention at all.

The Spaniard has Gilbert's shirt open now and is running his fingers down every raised scar he can find. "Get...off, Toni," Gil complains, but his voice is decidedly less angry than it normally is and his struggle is also quite weaker as well.

Antonio seems to notice, keeping his hands where they are but looking up at France. "Give him more," he grins. "I think he likes it."

"No!" Prussia snaps. "Keep that shit away from me!"

Ah. So the fire is still there.

Francis smirks. Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we?

Ignoring Gilbert's protests, he positions the wine bottle again and forces their friend to drink more. The feet kick out this time, and Francis barely avoids them. As much as Gil struggles, though, the wine doesn't stop, and that face is most definitely getting redder. France lets his own face sport a spreading grin. He is way too curious to see what Prussia will be like when drunk. Not that he hasn't seen Gilbert drunk before – just that every time he has, Francis has been too smashed himself to really enjoy his friend's state.

Another third of the bottle and France lets up, shaking the rest of the contents as Prussia takes a breath and hangs his head, cursing lightly. "Fuck...you..."

Spain giggles. "I think we will." And then the man licks up Prussia's neck.

Gilbert grits his teeth in order to hide the little noise his throat makes, but Francis hears it and catches the albino eyes when Prussia snaps his head up, trying to pull away from Spain. He is panting and his cheeks are incredibly pink. The look makes France want to strip and fuck him right away, but he has more control than that and he chooses to laugh instead, letting the lust come through in his eyes.

For his part, Prussia looks confused at first, tilting his head a bit, and then something flashes in his red eyes and he seems to understand, pulling back to where he's sitting stiffly against the chair. France smirks. "Oh yes, we will definitely be fucking you tonight."

"H-hey, I'm not-" Whatever Gilbert "was not" is lost when France connects the wine bottle back to his mouth.

Though Francis is quite sure that Gil was going to say how he never bottomed. Well, he has never been the one flushed and weak and positively drunk so early, either. It is the perfect time for payback. Francis has been waiting for a chance to top "the Great Prussia" again, since the only time he has done so was long ago when Napoleon's armies absolutely destroyed Prussia's in battle. Now he has a red-faced, slow-reacting, inebriated Gilbert on his hands and he is not going to let this moment pass without taking advantage.

With the wine bottle now empty, Francis tosses it to the side and starts to undress himself, eyes on Gilbert the whole time. Prussia seems a little dazed, panting or maybe just trying to catch his breath after being forced to chug alcohol. There is no struggle anymore as their albino just sits and lets Spain do what he wants. When Antonio nips at his ear, Gilbert's eyelids flutter slightly and his breath seems to catch. When the Spaniard's hands move to his nipples, Prussia's eyes close and he hangs his head, but no sound escapes him except for the light panting.

Throwing his clothes over the back of a chair, France moves away, walking to the counter to pull another bottle of wine out of the case, popping the top as fast as possible and returning to his latest prey. He catches Spain's watchful eyes – and the frown. "More?"

France laughs when Gilbert's head snaps up to gaze at the bottle of wine, eyes narrowing as if glaring at an enemy on the battlefield. "Just in case," he says as an answer. "Besides, I'm thirsty, too."

With that, he takes a drink of the wine, but he doesn't swallow. Instead, he holds it in his mouth, sets the bottle on the table, and sits on Prussia's lap. Spain watches as Francis puts a hand on Gilbert's bare chest and starts working his way up. Prussia watches the hand's journey for as long as he can, but Francis eventually reaches Gil's throat, then his jaw, then his chin, which he lifts up slightly.

"Wha-?"

Perfectly timed, France dives for the chance and crashes his lips into Gilbert's, keeping his eyes open so he can watch the Prussian's reaction. A mixture of wine and saliva enter the albino's mouth, causing him to swallow, causing his red eyes to widen considerably when he tastes the alcohol. He starts to say something, but France reaches around behind Gilbert's neck to hold his head still as he starts to kiss him with more force.

His body is on fire as he invades Prussia's mouth, fighting back that tongue, licking along his teeth, doing everything he can to give the albino a taste of his own medicine. He even accidentally pulls on the white hair, only to be pleasantly surprised when Gilbert's reaction is a deep moan. The red eyes close and France begins to notice that Prussia's battling tongue has become more playful than serious now.

He's enjoying it. He's enjoying being dominated.

With the new information stored in his brain, France holds Gil's head back with one hand and reaches out with the other, poking his way into the albino's pants. He catches Spain's watching eyes. The Spanish man blinks back at him before grinning and reaching down to help pull Gilbert's pants and underwear back until they reveal the big objective. With a light laugh, Antonio runs his fingers lightly up Gil's pride and joy before latching onto his neck and sucking.

France can feel the moan vibrate all the way to the back of his mouth and he breaks the kiss shortly thereafter, licking his own lips as he stares at the panting albino. "That was new," he whispers, getting a hum from Gilbert as Spain continues licking and sucking the pale throat.

France positively grins and starts leaning forward to capture the albino in another hot kiss, hands reaching down to play with Gil's hardening manhood – but Spain stops him. "Let me kiss him."

"Let me go." Gilbert's voice is quiet – whispered even. "And I'll fuck you both."

And France can't help but laugh at him. "Oh, do you have the wrong idea," he says, pinching the reddening pale cheeks as he meets the half-lidded glare.

It is at this point that Spain whines. "Francis, I wanna kiss him."

To which he sighs. "Fine. You want some wine to go with it?" When Antonio's face lights up, he grins and hands him the bottle, watching as Spain takes a chug of it for himself before handing it back, mouth closed, obviously doing the same trick France had just played out.

Gil is muttering something about "no more shitty wine," but his complaints go unheeded as Spain grips his face and turns it so he can crash their lips together.

Francis finds himself watching and enjoying the show. The fluttering eyes from the albino – as if they're trying to widen but slowly losing such capability. Antonio is a messier kisser and it is shown in the way wine and drool starts to drip from the corners of Prussia's mouth, leaving a light red trail down his chin. Which makes it all the hotter, pushing Gilbert further and further from that I'm-in-control Prussian attitude.

When a moan still refuses to escape Prussia's mouth, though, Francis knows he has to act in order to give Toni the same experience. He swiftly climbs off of Prussia's lap and kneels, pulling the pants and boxers down to his ankles, allowing Gil's "5 meters" to stick out straight in the cool air, ready and waiting. Licking his lips, France dives, lifting his eyes to keep watching as he deep-throats their albino. This much, at least, is a normal occurrence.

The whining moan from their friend, yet again, is not.

Spain pulls back after the noise, his eyes wide in shock. "Wow," he mutters before lapping at his mess, licking up the wine trail on Prussia's chin, diving once again into his mouth.

It's okay. Prussia loves his kisses, even if he isn't the one dominating.

Francis is just determined to add more to the experience, sucking on the length in his mouth, resting his hands on Gilbert's thighs, spreading them slightly, feeling the skin twitch underneath his fingertips. Playfully, he has to remind himself. Keep it playful. Teasing. Don't rush. Do everything differently from what he normally does. Piss him off.

With those reminders, Francis pulls back, slurping along the way. Spain drops the kiss, almost perfectly timed. And the two of them get a whispered curse. "Ah-arschloch."

Antonio giggles and ruffles the white spikes of hair while Gil's head hangs against his chest, panting heavily. "Now what, Francis? Can I play more?"

"Fuck...me..." Gil pants and even if it seems more like a curse than a request, Francis and Antonio both look at each other, grinning.

France stands up, poking a finger at Prussia's forehead but talking to Spain. "Fuck him into the table for all I care. 'ave your fun. I 'ave to grab a toy."

He steps away then, curious to see the state of their albino friend after Toni gets to have fun alone with him. It may be true that the Spaniard is rarely on the giving end in their drunken threesomes but he does have his moments – though such moments have never been with Gilbert on the receiving end. With experience at being underneath Toni, yes, Francis is quite curious to see what Gil will be like when the Spanish man is through.

...And then he'll come in – the sexy Frenchman. Ready to keep the party going, as he always does.

~!~

A/N: Ahhhh, I'm really hiding under a rock right now. This is what happens when you're horny and you can't get a certain scene out of your head. Don't hate me! Really! Ah hah...At least I gave you fair enough warning, ya?

~~Any alerts/favorites/reviews are appreciated – and thanks in advance~~

~Reda