A Book of Tales Ch. 3
Title: A Book of Tales
-or- How America Saved Canada With Porn
Author(s): yours truly XD
Genre: Humor, Romance
Characters/Pairing(s): US/UK
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex. Lots and lots of sex, and people talking about sex.
Summary: Various US/UK/US scenarios. Some in canon, some AU.
Alternate Summary: In order to save his brother from yet another fangirl mob, America does the heroic thing and writes all sorts of PWP for the masses with England's help. Side-Story for “Author!Anon”.
CH 1: http://dreamslikeglass.livejournal.com/3973.html
CH 2: http://dreamslikeglass.livejournal.com/4336.html
~
Time Stamp: December 11, 2009 11:30AM-12:05PM EST
Location: Washington, DC, the United States of America
America sighed. England was angry at him again. That wasn't surprising, especially since America was positive that the Brit had found chapter two of “A Book of Tales”. And now America was waiting for England's inevitable retribution.
America groaned and slumped over his desk. Oh sure, he could probably handle whatever dastardly plan England cooked up (America hoped England didn't literally cook; England's scones gave the American food poisoning from just looking at them). America could take anything. After all, he was a hero. But the waiting was driving him insane!
So when his cellphone cheerfully began playing England's ringtone, America quickly snatched it up, and placed the device to his ear.
“Hiya, Iggy!” America smiled as he mentally fortified himself for the stream of curses that would spill out of the device at a moment's notice.
To America's surprise, what greeted him was a simple, “Hello, America.”
The bespectacled Nation winced at the calm tone. Oh shit, it was worse than he thought! England wasn't just angry, he was pissed, and not in the British way meaning “drunk enough to go streaking all over Europe”, but in the American way of “someone was going to loose their nuts in a horribly painful way involving a rusty spoon, and that someone was probably going to be America”. Which was bad, because America rather liked Georgia and Alabama.
“Must you constantly refer to your states as parts of your anatomy?” inquired England's voice wryly.
“Holy fuck!” America yelped, clutching the phone a little tighter, “You're reading my mind too?!”
“No, you idiot, you were muttering your thoughts out loud,” England replied in a way that allowed America to visualize the exasperated look the Briton was wearing, “And rest assured, I shall not use a rusty spoon in such a manner.”
“Oh thank God...”
“I'll use a fork.”
“You're a bastard,” America hissed, as he placed a hand over his vital regions to protect them from imaginary threats, “A cock-sucking bastard.”
“No, my dear boy, that would be you,” England purred delicately, which caused the hairs at America's nape to prickle, “Tell me, America, what are you doing?”
“Uh, reading over some papers, writing a report, signing some documents. You know, usual work stuff,” America answered, blinking at the sudden change in topic. Was England...Nah, couldn't be...
“Oooh?” England drew out the simple syllable in a maddeningly self-satisfied way, “So you're at the White House, then?”
“Well, yeah,” America rolled his eyes at the obvious observation, “It's a work day, what do you expect? I was about to head over to a hot dog stand for lunch-”
“Stay where you are,” England ordered, his tone demanding obedience, “We're going to have a little chat, you and I. And don't think about tuning me out.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” America laughed flippantly, even as the small part of him that still viewed England as a voice of authority began to panic slightly before America squashed it, “I'm not a kid anymore, dad.”
“I know that!” England snapped, before his voice softened back down to that calm tone from before, “I know. God, do I know...”
“Look, are you still pissed off about me posting about our critique sections?” America asked heatedly, “And you can't be as pissed off about me doing it again as you were the first time. I mean, come on! I even talked about the embarrassing crap that happened to me! It's not just you getting made fun of. In fact, I made fun of myself more than I made fun of you!”
“I know, it's just that,” England sighed, his voice cracking slightly, “What do you expect me to do? Do you want me to just roll over and accept this?”
“Not really,” America admitted, shrugging his shoulders even though he knew England couldn't see it, “I mean, if you didn't give me at least some resistance, you wouldn't be the closet pervert I know and love. Even though I know you like the idea of me writing porn, and then you masturbating to it.”
“I most certainly do not!”
“Sure, sure,” America laughed easily, relaxing into his chair, “Deny it all you want, if it makes you feel better. In the meantime, I'm going to take my lunch break to eat a few hot dogs, and write some porn. I'll e-mail you the draft when I'm done.”
“Very well then,” England agreed with a slightly defeated sigh, “Promise me you'll at least check for grammatical errors this time. I don't want to spend half an hour fixing your commas.”
“Don't worry, Iggy,” America laughed, “I see a fap-tastic story in your future!”
“And don't forget to work on your Secret Santa gift,” England reminded his former colony right before they hung up.
“Yes, dad,” America replied sarcastically. As he ended the call, America allowed a wicked grin to settle over his features. England never could say no when it came to America.
~
Time Stamp: December 22, 2009 11:30-11:55 AM GMT
Location: London, England
When England checked his e-mail eleven days after the last incident with America and his porn, he was greeted to the sight of four new e-mails. At the top of his inbox were new messages from America. At first, England thought that it was going to be about Christmas, or rather the lack thereof. Both his house and America's had experienced some unexpected inclement weather that was likely to put a damper on their holiday plans. In addition, Washington, DC was due to experience a bout of freezing rain on Christmas day on top of the earlier snowfall, making it very likely the two of them would not be seeing each other for Christmas as they had previously planned. While the expected message was indeed there (complete with a dozen silly emoted sad faces from the American, and a plea to try to get together for the 26th) there was a second message that was titled “Fics 4 u!” In it, there was an attachment labeled “A Book of Tales 3.” The e-mail itself was short and filled to the brim with errors.
hiya iggy finaly doen!!!!!!!!11! Woot!!1! i gots inspire by awesoem pplz!!! faptastic stuff ya no? I <3 me pplz XD hope u liek bunnys...its wat tehy aksed 4 ENJOY!
England groaned. The e-mail was only a line long, but he had to read it twice before he understood what the hell America was saying. Was America using a cipher or something? Honestly, when America wrote a story or a report, he was perfectly capable of writing at least passable English. Some might even say the American was a good writer at times. But this...this monstrosity of an e-mail (gibberish, really) made England want to sit his former colony over his knee and cane the boy.
Well, at least America had finally written something after almost two weeks, the idiotic procrastinator. Grumbling to himself, England opened the attachment and began to read.
~
Story 2: Fable
Author's Note: For anyone who reads my fic “Fairytale” this one-shot is set in the same universe after a possible ending for it. So, spoilers! However, this fic can stand on it's own without “Fairytale.” All you need to know is that this is an AU where England's a wererabbit and America's a human turned werewolf. Also, this is dedicated to blulious and her fucking awesome art. Here's your real porn. XD
Arthur woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, his stomach grumbling. At first he ignored it, burying himself deeper into Alfred's loose embrace, but his belly was insistent, denying him sleep in its desire for food. Eventually, the wererabbit sighed, and slipped out of bed. He didn't bother with slipping on clothing to cover his nude form since he planned on being quick. Meanwhile, Alfred murmured sleepily in discontent at the lack of his lover in his arms, but eventually he settled down after Arthur pressed a soft kiss against the younger male's cheek. Quietly, the rabbit padded towards the kitchen, and began pulling out the ingredients for a small snack. After lighting the stove, he tied an apron around his waist out of habit and began chopping up the ingredients.
“What are you doing?” Alfred's voice asked suddenly from behind the wererabbit. Out of nowhere, long arms wrapped themselves around Arthur, and a cold nose playfully rubbed into a long fluffy rabbit ear. Startled, Arthur dropped the knife, managing to nick his finger in the process.
“Bloody hell,” he hissed, blowing at the cut. It didn't take long for Alfred to grab Arthur's wrist and take over the duty of tending to the small wound.
“What are you doing up?” Alfred asked as he began licking at the blood. Arthur blushed as his lover began sucking on the wounded digit, pleased noises rumbling out of the werewolf's throat.
“You're supposed to be asleep, git. And, for your information, I was hungry,” Arthur mumbled, trying to ignore how the sweep of Alfred's tongue, the satisfied growls and groans the younger made, and the closeness of their naked bodies were all serving to turn the rabbit on.
“So am I,” Alfred murmured around Arthur's finger, before giving it one last hard suck, and sliding it out of his mouth. A flash of instinctive rabbit fear flew through Arthur's heart before he cut it off angrily. This was Alfred, dear sweet Alfred, whom Arthur loved enough to expose himself into the predator's jaws, and who loved Arthur enough to curb his animalistic desire for flesh and blood, allowing himself only the smallest tastes of it.
“Do you want me to make you something?” Arthur asked after a moment's pause. Alfred laughed in response, and buried his face into Arthur's fur and hair, breathing in that warm familiar scent that reminded the wolf of lazy summer days, wild adventures, and twisted sweaty bedsheets all at once.
“I want to fuck you,” Alfred groaned without preamble, pulling the rabbit into a tighter embrace. Arthur chuckled when he felt Alfred's insistent erection against his backside. Ah, the boy was hungry indeed.
“Again? I thought I already tired you out,” Arthur teased, already feeling his more nervous rabbit side settle as more...desirable...instincts began to surface in his blood. Alfred moaned softly against Arthur's fuzzy ear, his sensitive nose already catching the the change in Arthur's pheromones.
“'S not my fault you're so fucking tempting,” Alfred muttered as his hips unconsciously began rubbing circles against Arthur's rump. The wolf began spreading open-mouthed kisses against his rabbit's nape, groaning helplessly at the taste of the salty flesh. Alfred was careful to not bite or suck, though he desperately wanted to. That tiny taste from before was barely enough to satisfy the predator within. Instead, Alfred fell into his other desires, and slid his hand up Arthur's thigh to grip the barely clothed hardness waiting for him.
Arthur let out a small sigh of satisfaction, leaning back to rest his head against Alfred's shoulder as that calloused hand began stroking at the rabbit's need. Arthur could feel Alfred smile, the shape of those sharp canines distinctive against the rabbit's scalp, as the wolf brought his other hand upwards and under the apron to play with Arthur's taut nipples.
“Don't be selfish, you prat,” Arthur scolded, only choking slightly on the words as the grip on his cock shifted slightly, “Turn us around. I want to touch you too.”
Alfred chuckled, the air from his lips puffing delicately against Arthur's nape, “Since when did little bunnies command wolves?”
“Since now,” Arthur bit back, before taking matters into his own hands. He slipped out of Alfred's grasp with all the grace and flexibility of a rabbit, and turned to face the taller male, a mischievous smirk on his lips. The smile wavered slightly when he noticed the unnatural brightness of Alfred's eyes in the dark, yet another aspect of his former ward's lycanthropy that the wererabbit had yet to adjust to, along with the soft canine ears and waving tail. However, before Alfred could notice his brief unease, Arthur pounced on the other male, sending them both tumbling to the floor.
Arthur grinned down at Alfred from his perch on top of the younger man, the end of the apron pooling between them, and hiding their lower regions from view. Carefully, Arthur angled his hips and ground down, bringing their aching erections in contact. Arthur smiled smugly when his increasingly forceful grinding caused the wolf's ears to flatten, and drew a needy moan from the blue-eyed male.
“Don't. Ever. Assume. That. I. Am. Helpless,” Arthur smirked, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. Alfred exhaled noisily before suddenly flipping them over. Arthur stared up at the other with wide green eyes that were filled not with fear, but with lust.
“Off,” Alfred growled playfully, already ripping away at the apron, the last flimsy barrier between them. Instantly, the rabbit's cheeks flushed a bright red in equal parts desire and fury.
“You sodding git!” Arthur yelped, as the material was torn to ribbons, “That was my good apron! I hope you kn-ohhhhhhh, yes. Just like that.”
Alfred chuckled lightly as he dipped his head and dragged his tongue across Arthur's nipple, effectively cutting off Arthur's protests, and causing the slighter male to hum in pleasure. The younger male softly blew on the wet flesh, satisfaction seeping into his too-bright eyes as the pink nub puckered beautifully. Leisurely, Alfred pressed brief kisses down his lover's torso, before brushing his lips right above Arthur's weeping cock. And then, in one swift move, Alfred swallowed Arthur whole.
“Nnnhn,” Arthur gasped, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hands slithered down to tangle fingers into Alfred's hair, “Oh God...”
Alfred began drawing lazy patterns on the inside of Arthur's thighs, and carefully hiked up the wererabbit's legs around the wolf's shoulders as he sucked greedily Arthur's flesh. Ahh, everything about the rabbit was slowly driving Alfred insane, from his soft mewls of “more, please, more,” to the slight cant of his hips. To reward his bunny for his pleasant noises, Alfred hallowed his cheeks and sucked firmly, drawing forth even louder cries and an insistent tugging on the wolf's hair. Bright blue eyes flicked upward, taking pleasure not only from Arthur's flushed cheeks and heaving chest, but also from the warm hardness in Alfred's mouth. Arthur's cock was firm and unyielding, yet the skin was so soft, so smooth...It was like silk on Alfred's tongue, and the flesh was so...what was the word? Delicious. Arthur was so fucking delicious.
Arthur moaned in disappointment when Alfred's mouth suddenly drew away, deciding to instead pant heavily against Arthur's knee.
“Why did you stop?” Arthur demanded, thrusting his hips upward in obvious need.
“Tasted too good,” Alfred growled against Arthur's leg, closing his eyes so that Arthur couldn't read the unholy hunger growing in them, “I just want to eat you up.”
Arthur smiled slightly, curving his fingers gently against his lover's chin, “But you won't. I trust you, Alfred.”
“But do you trust the wolf?”
“I trust to wolf to be smart enough to know that if he ate the bunny there would be no more bunny to fuck,” Arthur replied with confidence, pulling Alfred up and down into a deep kiss. Their tongues dueled mercilessly until Alfred willingly consented, allowing the shorter male to dominate this kiss. Alfred enjoyed the feeling of Arthur confidently stroking at tongue and teeth. The following playful nip to Alfred's lip was welcome too, and Alfred rewarded Arthur with a small yip of pleasure. Arthur's kisses were always a reminder that despite his status as a prey animal, Arthur was still the fearless being that had fought off monsters far darker than any nightmare.
“There's oil on the table,” Arthur gasped out when their mouths separated for breath. Alfred wasted no time snatching the small flask from its resting place, and pouring a liberal amount onto his palm. Feeling a bit mischievous, he twirled slick fingers sensually around Arthur's nipples and down his stomach, grinning when the rabbit tossed him an annoyed look tempered with heated want. Abandoning the thoughts of a slow tease, Alfred slid two fingers down the body of Arthur's cock (ah, that small flutter of pleasure across the rabbit's face was so lovely...) then past his sack, before slipping into Arthur with two fingers at once, twirling and scissoring them into Arthur's warm willing body. Arthur groaned, tossing back his head and baring his delicious throat, but eventually the rabbit's greed for sex caught up with him. Arthur flipped over, wiggling his pale ass in Alfred's face.
“Get on with it,” Arthur hissed, tossing a dark look over his shoulder. To his surprise, Alfred flipped the rabbit back over, leaning over to kiss Arthur again.
“I want...I wanna feel human,” Alfred said simply in reply to Arthur's look of confusion when their lips parted, “I want to see your face.”
In response, Arthur smiled gently, before it turned wicked. He scooted closer, rubbing their cocks together. The blue-eyed male growled playfully at his partner's eagerness, happily slicking himself up and aligning their bodies. Alfred savored Arthur's thin exhale as he pushed in with a gentle thrusts. Alfred let out a needy groan. Tight and warm...Arthur was always so warm, that mating with him always felt like coming home. As soon as he was fully sheathed inside, Alfred leaned his forehead down against Arthur's collarbone, panting and soaking in the pleasure of just being surrounded by warmth, by Arthur.
But Arthur would have none of that, as he thrust his hips up in an effort to unravel Alfred's sanity.
“Fuck me.”
And the rabbit got his wish, as Alfred let out a snarl, his hands gripping tightly (too tight, his hands would leave bruises, lovely bruises) at Arthur's hips as he set a brutal rhythm, one that had both of them crying out for more. Each breath, each gasp, each wanton cry of need that fell from their lips spoke of desire and heat as Alfred pounded harder into that tightness. Arthur slid a leg around Alfred's back, digging his heel into the dip of the wolf's spine, just above where that plumed tail sprouted, in an effort to bring Alfred's cock deep, deeper, more.
“Ahhnn...More...”
Alfred groaned at his lover's demands, shifting his angle slightly, causing the rabbit to cry out louder as the cock within him brushed that spot that sent stars flashing across his vision. Alfred slid one hand away from Arthur's hip, brushing upwards tenderly in contrast to his forceful thrusts, to grip and stroke the rabbit's throbbing cock. Arthur's world shattered then; the stroking without and within him sent him down a dizzying spiral of lust as he came. It didn't take long for Alfred to follow his lover, especially not with how Arthur was splayed out, his hair and long ears spread out like a halo, his pale throat bared in silent offering. It was a virtual feast for Alfred's lust soaked mind. He cried out against Arthur's neck, filling that willing body with warmth and wetness.
Alfred rolled off of Arthur, but instantly drew the rabbit close to his side, his nose burying itself back into Arthur's neck. Arthur gave only a token amount of sleepy resistance before relaxing into the taller man's arms.
“Still hungry?” Arthur asked, absentmindedly stroking Alfred's soft hair. Alfred growled, drawing his tongue against Arthur's still racing pulse.
“For you? Always.”
END
~
Time Stamp: December 22, 2009 12:05-1:25 PM GMT
Location: London, England
England stared at his computer screen. Then he stared some more. Then he headed to the bathroom to take care of a few (ahem) things before sending any sort of intelligible reply back.
~
Author's Note: I found that sex scenes (especially AU sex scenes) are hard to write, not only because they're embarrassing, but because they're really distracting. Mr. Hand saw a lot of action.
*grumbles* Stupid weather. One of the reasons I decided to hang out in the DC-Metro area for this year is because it doesn't typically get a lot of snow. The weather is working against me to keep me and my bunny apart! DX (BTW, Mattie, if you're reading this, STFU about my weather. It's not my fault that my weather is so diverse and temperamental. I'd like to see you against my heatwaves with the humidity to match!)
Oh, and, Happy Holidays!
-or- How America Saved Canada With Porn
Author(s): yours truly XD
Genre: Humor, Romance
Characters/Pairing(s): US/UK
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex. Lots and lots of sex, and people talking about sex.
Summary: Various US/UK/US scenarios. Some in canon, some AU.
Alternate Summary: In order to save his brother from yet another fangirl mob, America does the heroic thing and writes all sorts of PWP for the masses with England's help. Side-Story for “Author!Anon”.
CH 1: http://dreamslikeglass.livejournal.com/3973.html
CH 2: http://dreamslikeglass.livejournal.com/4336.html
~
Time Stamp: December 11, 2009 11:30AM-12:05PM EST
Location: Washington, DC, the United States of America
America sighed. England was angry at him again. That wasn't surprising, especially since America was positive that the Brit had found chapter two of “A Book of Tales”. And now America was waiting for England's inevitable retribution.
America groaned and slumped over his desk. Oh sure, he could probably handle whatever dastardly plan England cooked up (America hoped England didn't literally cook; England's scones gave the American food poisoning from just looking at them). America could take anything. After all, he was a hero. But the waiting was driving him insane!
So when his cellphone cheerfully began playing England's ringtone, America quickly snatched it up, and placed the device to his ear.
“Hiya, Iggy!” America smiled as he mentally fortified himself for the stream of curses that would spill out of the device at a moment's notice.
To America's surprise, what greeted him was a simple, “Hello, America.”
The bespectacled Nation winced at the calm tone. Oh shit, it was worse than he thought! England wasn't just angry, he was pissed, and not in the British way meaning “drunk enough to go streaking all over Europe”, but in the American way of “someone was going to loose their nuts in a horribly painful way involving a rusty spoon, and that someone was probably going to be America”. Which was bad, because America rather liked Georgia and Alabama.
“Must you constantly refer to your states as parts of your anatomy?” inquired England's voice wryly.
“Holy fuck!” America yelped, clutching the phone a little tighter, “You're reading my mind too?!”
“No, you idiot, you were muttering your thoughts out loud,” England replied in a way that allowed America to visualize the exasperated look the Briton was wearing, “And rest assured, I shall not use a rusty spoon in such a manner.”
“Oh thank God...”
“I'll use a fork.”
“You're a bastard,” America hissed, as he placed a hand over his vital regions to protect them from imaginary threats, “A cock-sucking bastard.”
“No, my dear boy, that would be you,” England purred delicately, which caused the hairs at America's nape to prickle, “Tell me, America, what are you doing?”
“Uh, reading over some papers, writing a report, signing some documents. You know, usual work stuff,” America answered, blinking at the sudden change in topic. Was England...Nah, couldn't be...
“Oooh?” England drew out the simple syllable in a maddeningly self-satisfied way, “So you're at the White House, then?”
“Well, yeah,” America rolled his eyes at the obvious observation, “It's a work day, what do you expect? I was about to head over to a hot dog stand for lunch-”
“Stay where you are,” England ordered, his tone demanding obedience, “We're going to have a little chat, you and I. And don't think about tuning me out.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” America laughed flippantly, even as the small part of him that still viewed England as a voice of authority began to panic slightly before America squashed it, “I'm not a kid anymore, dad.”
“I know that!” England snapped, before his voice softened back down to that calm tone from before, “I know. God, do I know...”
“Look, are you still pissed off about me posting about our critique sections?” America asked heatedly, “And you can't be as pissed off about me doing it again as you were the first time. I mean, come on! I even talked about the embarrassing crap that happened to me! It's not just you getting made fun of. In fact, I made fun of myself more than I made fun of you!”
“I know, it's just that,” England sighed, his voice cracking slightly, “What do you expect me to do? Do you want me to just roll over and accept this?”
“Not really,” America admitted, shrugging his shoulders even though he knew England couldn't see it, “I mean, if you didn't give me at least some resistance, you wouldn't be the closet pervert I know and love. Even though I know you like the idea of me writing porn, and then you masturbating to it.”
“I most certainly do not!”
“Sure, sure,” America laughed easily, relaxing into his chair, “Deny it all you want, if it makes you feel better. In the meantime, I'm going to take my lunch break to eat a few hot dogs, and write some porn. I'll e-mail you the draft when I'm done.”
“Very well then,” England agreed with a slightly defeated sigh, “Promise me you'll at least check for grammatical errors this time. I don't want to spend half an hour fixing your commas.”
“Don't worry, Iggy,” America laughed, “I see a fap-tastic story in your future!”
“And don't forget to work on your Secret Santa gift,” England reminded his former colony right before they hung up.
“Yes, dad,” America replied sarcastically. As he ended the call, America allowed a wicked grin to settle over his features. England never could say no when it came to America.
~
Time Stamp: December 22, 2009 11:30-11:55 AM GMT
Location: London, England
When England checked his e-mail eleven days after the last incident with America and his porn, he was greeted to the sight of four new e-mails. At the top of his inbox were new messages from America. At first, England thought that it was going to be about Christmas, or rather the lack thereof. Both his house and America's had experienced some unexpected inclement weather that was likely to put a damper on their holiday plans. In addition, Washington, DC was due to experience a bout of freezing rain on Christmas day on top of the earlier snowfall, making it very likely the two of them would not be seeing each other for Christmas as they had previously planned. While the expected message was indeed there (complete with a dozen silly emoted sad faces from the American, and a plea to try to get together for the 26th) there was a second message that was titled “Fics 4 u!” In it, there was an attachment labeled “A Book of Tales 3.” The e-mail itself was short and filled to the brim with errors.
hiya iggy finaly doen!!!!!!!!11! Woot!!1! i gots inspire by awesoem pplz!!! faptastic stuff ya no? I <3 me pplz XD hope u liek bunnys...its wat tehy aksed 4 ENJOY!
England groaned. The e-mail was only a line long, but he had to read it twice before he understood what the hell America was saying. Was America using a cipher or something? Honestly, when America wrote a story or a report, he was perfectly capable of writing at least passable English. Some might even say the American was a good writer at times. But this...this monstrosity of an e-mail (gibberish, really) made England want to sit his former colony over his knee and cane the boy.
Well, at least America had finally written something after almost two weeks, the idiotic procrastinator. Grumbling to himself, England opened the attachment and began to read.
~
Story 2: Fable
Author's Note: For anyone who reads my fic “Fairytale” this one-shot is set in the same universe after a possible ending for it. So, spoilers! However, this fic can stand on it's own without “Fairytale.” All you need to know is that this is an AU where England's a wererabbit and America's a human turned werewolf. Also, this is dedicated to blulious and her fucking awesome art. Here's your real porn. XD
Arthur woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, his stomach grumbling. At first he ignored it, burying himself deeper into Alfred's loose embrace, but his belly was insistent, denying him sleep in its desire for food. Eventually, the wererabbit sighed, and slipped out of bed. He didn't bother with slipping on clothing to cover his nude form since he planned on being quick. Meanwhile, Alfred murmured sleepily in discontent at the lack of his lover in his arms, but eventually he settled down after Arthur pressed a soft kiss against the younger male's cheek. Quietly, the rabbit padded towards the kitchen, and began pulling out the ingredients for a small snack. After lighting the stove, he tied an apron around his waist out of habit and began chopping up the ingredients.
“What are you doing?” Alfred's voice asked suddenly from behind the wererabbit. Out of nowhere, long arms wrapped themselves around Arthur, and a cold nose playfully rubbed into a long fluffy rabbit ear. Startled, Arthur dropped the knife, managing to nick his finger in the process.
“Bloody hell,” he hissed, blowing at the cut. It didn't take long for Alfred to grab Arthur's wrist and take over the duty of tending to the small wound.
“What are you doing up?” Alfred asked as he began licking at the blood. Arthur blushed as his lover began sucking on the wounded digit, pleased noises rumbling out of the werewolf's throat.
“You're supposed to be asleep, git. And, for your information, I was hungry,” Arthur mumbled, trying to ignore how the sweep of Alfred's tongue, the satisfied growls and groans the younger made, and the closeness of their naked bodies were all serving to turn the rabbit on.
“So am I,” Alfred murmured around Arthur's finger, before giving it one last hard suck, and sliding it out of his mouth. A flash of instinctive rabbit fear flew through Arthur's heart before he cut it off angrily. This was Alfred, dear sweet Alfred, whom Arthur loved enough to expose himself into the predator's jaws, and who loved Arthur enough to curb his animalistic desire for flesh and blood, allowing himself only the smallest tastes of it.
“Do you want me to make you something?” Arthur asked after a moment's pause. Alfred laughed in response, and buried his face into Arthur's fur and hair, breathing in that warm familiar scent that reminded the wolf of lazy summer days, wild adventures, and twisted sweaty bedsheets all at once.
“I want to fuck you,” Alfred groaned without preamble, pulling the rabbit into a tighter embrace. Arthur chuckled when he felt Alfred's insistent erection against his backside. Ah, the boy was hungry indeed.
“Again? I thought I already tired you out,” Arthur teased, already feeling his more nervous rabbit side settle as more...desirable...instincts began to surface in his blood. Alfred moaned softly against Arthur's fuzzy ear, his sensitive nose already catching the the change in Arthur's pheromones.
“'S not my fault you're so fucking tempting,” Alfred muttered as his hips unconsciously began rubbing circles against Arthur's rump. The wolf began spreading open-mouthed kisses against his rabbit's nape, groaning helplessly at the taste of the salty flesh. Alfred was careful to not bite or suck, though he desperately wanted to. That tiny taste from before was barely enough to satisfy the predator within. Instead, Alfred fell into his other desires, and slid his hand up Arthur's thigh to grip the barely clothed hardness waiting for him.
Arthur let out a small sigh of satisfaction, leaning back to rest his head against Alfred's shoulder as that calloused hand began stroking at the rabbit's need. Arthur could feel Alfred smile, the shape of those sharp canines distinctive against the rabbit's scalp, as the wolf brought his other hand upwards and under the apron to play with Arthur's taut nipples.
“Don't be selfish, you prat,” Arthur scolded, only choking slightly on the words as the grip on his cock shifted slightly, “Turn us around. I want to touch you too.”
Alfred chuckled, the air from his lips puffing delicately against Arthur's nape, “Since when did little bunnies command wolves?”
“Since now,” Arthur bit back, before taking matters into his own hands. He slipped out of Alfred's grasp with all the grace and flexibility of a rabbit, and turned to face the taller male, a mischievous smirk on his lips. The smile wavered slightly when he noticed the unnatural brightness of Alfred's eyes in the dark, yet another aspect of his former ward's lycanthropy that the wererabbit had yet to adjust to, along with the soft canine ears and waving tail. However, before Alfred could notice his brief unease, Arthur pounced on the other male, sending them both tumbling to the floor.
Arthur grinned down at Alfred from his perch on top of the younger man, the end of the apron pooling between them, and hiding their lower regions from view. Carefully, Arthur angled his hips and ground down, bringing their aching erections in contact. Arthur smiled smugly when his increasingly forceful grinding caused the wolf's ears to flatten, and drew a needy moan from the blue-eyed male.
“Don't. Ever. Assume. That. I. Am. Helpless,” Arthur smirked, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. Alfred exhaled noisily before suddenly flipping them over. Arthur stared up at the other with wide green eyes that were filled not with fear, but with lust.
“Off,” Alfred growled playfully, already ripping away at the apron, the last flimsy barrier between them. Instantly, the rabbit's cheeks flushed a bright red in equal parts desire and fury.
“You sodding git!” Arthur yelped, as the material was torn to ribbons, “That was my good apron! I hope you kn-ohhhhhhh, yes. Just like that.”
Alfred chuckled lightly as he dipped his head and dragged his tongue across Arthur's nipple, effectively cutting off Arthur's protests, and causing the slighter male to hum in pleasure. The younger male softly blew on the wet flesh, satisfaction seeping into his too-bright eyes as the pink nub puckered beautifully. Leisurely, Alfred pressed brief kisses down his lover's torso, before brushing his lips right above Arthur's weeping cock. And then, in one swift move, Alfred swallowed Arthur whole.
“Nnnhn,” Arthur gasped, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hands slithered down to tangle fingers into Alfred's hair, “Oh God...”
Alfred began drawing lazy patterns on the inside of Arthur's thighs, and carefully hiked up the wererabbit's legs around the wolf's shoulders as he sucked greedily Arthur's flesh. Ahh, everything about the rabbit was slowly driving Alfred insane, from his soft mewls of “more, please, more,” to the slight cant of his hips. To reward his bunny for his pleasant noises, Alfred hallowed his cheeks and sucked firmly, drawing forth even louder cries and an insistent tugging on the wolf's hair. Bright blue eyes flicked upward, taking pleasure not only from Arthur's flushed cheeks and heaving chest, but also from the warm hardness in Alfred's mouth. Arthur's cock was firm and unyielding, yet the skin was so soft, so smooth...It was like silk on Alfred's tongue, and the flesh was so...what was the word? Delicious. Arthur was so fucking delicious.
Arthur moaned in disappointment when Alfred's mouth suddenly drew away, deciding to instead pant heavily against Arthur's knee.
“Why did you stop?” Arthur demanded, thrusting his hips upward in obvious need.
“Tasted too good,” Alfred growled against Arthur's leg, closing his eyes so that Arthur couldn't read the unholy hunger growing in them, “I just want to eat you up.”
Arthur smiled slightly, curving his fingers gently against his lover's chin, “But you won't. I trust you, Alfred.”
“But do you trust the wolf?”
“I trust to wolf to be smart enough to know that if he ate the bunny there would be no more bunny to fuck,” Arthur replied with confidence, pulling Alfred up and down into a deep kiss. Their tongues dueled mercilessly until Alfred willingly consented, allowing the shorter male to dominate this kiss. Alfred enjoyed the feeling of Arthur confidently stroking at tongue and teeth. The following playful nip to Alfred's lip was welcome too, and Alfred rewarded Arthur with a small yip of pleasure. Arthur's kisses were always a reminder that despite his status as a prey animal, Arthur was still the fearless being that had fought off monsters far darker than any nightmare.
“There's oil on the table,” Arthur gasped out when their mouths separated for breath. Alfred wasted no time snatching the small flask from its resting place, and pouring a liberal amount onto his palm. Feeling a bit mischievous, he twirled slick fingers sensually around Arthur's nipples and down his stomach, grinning when the rabbit tossed him an annoyed look tempered with heated want. Abandoning the thoughts of a slow tease, Alfred slid two fingers down the body of Arthur's cock (ah, that small flutter of pleasure across the rabbit's face was so lovely...) then past his sack, before slipping into Arthur with two fingers at once, twirling and scissoring them into Arthur's warm willing body. Arthur groaned, tossing back his head and baring his delicious throat, but eventually the rabbit's greed for sex caught up with him. Arthur flipped over, wiggling his pale ass in Alfred's face.
“Get on with it,” Arthur hissed, tossing a dark look over his shoulder. To his surprise, Alfred flipped the rabbit back over, leaning over to kiss Arthur again.
“I want...I wanna feel human,” Alfred said simply in reply to Arthur's look of confusion when their lips parted, “I want to see your face.”
In response, Arthur smiled gently, before it turned wicked. He scooted closer, rubbing their cocks together. The blue-eyed male growled playfully at his partner's eagerness, happily slicking himself up and aligning their bodies. Alfred savored Arthur's thin exhale as he pushed in with a gentle thrusts. Alfred let out a needy groan. Tight and warm...Arthur was always so warm, that mating with him always felt like coming home. As soon as he was fully sheathed inside, Alfred leaned his forehead down against Arthur's collarbone, panting and soaking in the pleasure of just being surrounded by warmth, by Arthur.
But Arthur would have none of that, as he thrust his hips up in an effort to unravel Alfred's sanity.
“Fuck me.”
And the rabbit got his wish, as Alfred let out a snarl, his hands gripping tightly (too tight, his hands would leave bruises, lovely bruises) at Arthur's hips as he set a brutal rhythm, one that had both of them crying out for more. Each breath, each gasp, each wanton cry of need that fell from their lips spoke of desire and heat as Alfred pounded harder into that tightness. Arthur slid a leg around Alfred's back, digging his heel into the dip of the wolf's spine, just above where that plumed tail sprouted, in an effort to bring Alfred's cock deep, deeper, more.
“Ahhnn...More...”
Alfred groaned at his lover's demands, shifting his angle slightly, causing the rabbit to cry out louder as the cock within him brushed that spot that sent stars flashing across his vision. Alfred slid one hand away from Arthur's hip, brushing upwards tenderly in contrast to his forceful thrusts, to grip and stroke the rabbit's throbbing cock. Arthur's world shattered then; the stroking without and within him sent him down a dizzying spiral of lust as he came. It didn't take long for Alfred to follow his lover, especially not with how Arthur was splayed out, his hair and long ears spread out like a halo, his pale throat bared in silent offering. It was a virtual feast for Alfred's lust soaked mind. He cried out against Arthur's neck, filling that willing body with warmth and wetness.
Alfred rolled off of Arthur, but instantly drew the rabbit close to his side, his nose burying itself back into Arthur's neck. Arthur gave only a token amount of sleepy resistance before relaxing into the taller man's arms.
“Still hungry?” Arthur asked, absentmindedly stroking Alfred's soft hair. Alfred growled, drawing his tongue against Arthur's still racing pulse.
“For you? Always.”
END
~
Time Stamp: December 22, 2009 12:05-1:25 PM GMT
Location: London, England
England stared at his computer screen. Then he stared some more. Then he headed to the bathroom to take care of a few (ahem) things before sending any sort of intelligible reply back.
~
Author's Note: I found that sex scenes (especially AU sex scenes) are hard to write, not only because they're embarrassing, but because they're really distracting. Mr. Hand saw a lot of action.
*grumbles* Stupid weather. One of the reasons I decided to hang out in the DC-Metro area for this year is because it doesn't typically get a lot of snow. The weather is working against me to keep me and my bunny apart! DX (BTW, Mattie, if you're reading this, STFU about my weather. It's not my fault that my weather is so diverse and temperamental. I'd like to see you against my heatwaves with the humidity to match!)
Oh, and, Happy Holidays!