#herakiku

Originally, he’d invited Herakles to view the Sakura blooms. Spring season is abound and they would soon be very busy so they had to make the most of their free time. Herakles usually let Kiku decide their itinerary whenever he visits, content to spend time together unrelated to political matters. So when he asked for a tour of Kawasaki, Kiku was eager to accommodate.

“Of course! I can arrange for us to leave tomorrow.” Kiku gave a brief nod to one of the attendants waiting on him, a clear hint for him to take care of the logistics. The man bows 45 degrees and takes his leave. “Is there a particular place you’d like to visit?”

“Nn.” Herakles paused mid-step, looking up as if the answer is written on the ceiling. “Kanayama Shrine.”

Kiku hummed. The place isn’t one of his more famous tourist spots but he wasn’t about to turn down an earnest request. They’ve continued walking, Kiku leading Herakles to his room for the night when the European nation blurts out,

“I want to meet Elizabeth.”

It took a while for Kiku to make the connection. His first thought was of Hungary but she hasn’t informed him of her visit… Another part of him felt put off that Herakles wanted to meet someone else during their time. This was supposed to be special, he thought he’d made that obvious…

“And the candies… shaped like a cunt.”

....Eh?

Kiku stared at Herakles. Herakles nodded to himself, unaware. “And the dick lollipops.”

What?

Where…? Who even…? Then it hit him. There’s a calendar on the wall that confirmed his suspicions. The Kanamara Matsuri. Of all the people to bring that up, he didn’t expect Herakles to --- well, no, actually, it made sense. The other nation did have a pagan god with an overlarge phallus.

He struggled to reciprocate Herakles’ easy smile.

There’s plenty of foreigners, Kiku notes, trying not to get squished. Huge, exuberant foreigners with their flashy cameras and chatty friends. An arm wraps around his waist, pulling him close to a broad body.

“Are you okay, Kiku?” Herakles’ brows are furrowed slightly, a halo of sunlight around his curly hair.

“I’m fine. I’m just not used to such a rowdy crowd.”

“Nn. Got it.”

Kiku squeaks when Herakles holds him securely, his face nearly squashed against the other man’s well-defined chest. Herakles smells like the sea, like olives, soothing. He also smells like sweat and sunshine, which doesn’t help Kiku’s other problem.

Another phallic effigy is paraded down the street, a passing breeze scattering cherry blossoms over their heads. The crowd surges and Kiku has to hold onto something to stay upright. Unsurprisingly, he ends up in Herakles’ space, unable to pass even a strand of hair between them. Surprisingly, there’s something much, much bigger than a strand of hair between them.

There’s a hazy sheen in Herakles too-calm gaze. Kiku’s face heats up, suddenly feeling electric but unable to move away. He tries to step back, sparking friction in the process, and ends up with Heracles clinging to him.

“Kiku…”

“Y-Yes, Herakles-san.”

“Your hand.”

“Eh?”

“Can I borrow it?” Herakles murmurs, nuzzling their noses like an overly large, overly affectionate pet. Both his arms surround Kiku in a not-so-loose embrace, engulfing the shorter nation in his thermal coat.

“You… you want me to…” Kiku looks down at the nonexistent space between their bodies, sharing warmth and mixing smells. A definite erection presses against his leg. Greece definitely wants him to. “Here?” His fingers dig into the taut pectorals.

“Lower.”

Kiku blinks. Herakles seems to catch his misunderstanding, a sheepish grin curling at the corner of his lips. A quiet giggle leaves Kiku when Herakles presses a kiss to his cheek, one that says ‘you know what I meant’. Discreetly, Kiku looks around them to check if anyone is watching.

No one. They’re all distracted by the penises on parade. Good.

“Just this once, okay?”

Herakles nods, protecting Kiku from the constant pour of passersby with his bulk. The clink of his unbuckled belt and withdrawn zipper is lost to the sea of festival sounds. A full body shiver wracks his frame when Kiku makes contact, cold fist growing slick and warm over his shaft. His breath fogs, expelled in short bursts.