Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
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England glowered at him frostily. “Brilliant, now their suspicions will be confirmed! Thank you so very much, you shit-for-brains.”
“…I guess someone does not need my assistance after all,” France replied haughtily, stalking towards the door. “If you will excuse me, I have a meeting to return to.”
“You will not!” At that moment, England truly hated himself for sounding so desperate, hated how France always managed to manipulate him so. He was doomed from the moment he believed that wine-bastard’s lie this morning, but like hell he was going to let France leave him hanging. “You, sir, will stay right here a-and…”
“And what?” France asked, voice dripping poisonous sweetness as he turned to face England.
“What do you mean ‘what’? I already said it once!”
“You do realize that I went through all of this deception for your benefit. So tell me exactly what you want me to do, Angleterre.” France was nearing him now, the scent of his cologne heavy in the air, and England swallowed nervously, his wits muddled enough to not discern the egotistical lack of logic in France’s statement, his heart pounding faster than should be healthy for a nation of his maturity.
“Touch me,” he finally whispered, closing his eyes, and France did, running long fingers through his hair, stroking the side of his face, his chin, then his lips, leaning forward until their noses almost touched.
“What else?” France breathed, so soft his voice was felt more than heard.
“Kiss me.”
He did, and England gladly gave into it, throwing his arms about the other’s shoulders, and for once the bittersweet taste of coffee did not seem so revolting. France ran his hands slowly down his sides, and England broke away so that he could take off his suit jacket. Stealing breathless kisses whenever they could, France soon had England’s shirt and vest and tie tossed haphazardly onto the carpet, and he pushed the other nation to rest against the mahogany desk. He will need that support, France thought wryly, since he was planning to go all out and make England experience, first-hand, the true extent of his skills as a lover.
England leaned back on his hands as France pressed open-mouthed kisses down his throat, across his collarbone and down his chest, nibbling lightly at a nipple, taking his time to explore, feeling no rush. He left warm saliva trails, red bruising bite marks, and England did not even care, completely under the heady influence of that near-miraculous drug, surrendering to this luxurious pace.
“Oh God, F-France. Stroke me.”
“Certainement,” France murmured, lips still flush against England’s stomach, and the vibrations of his low voice only added to the pleasure sparking through his nerves. Undoing his pants with frustrating slowness, France soon had England in hand, skilled fingers clasping his aching arousal and stroking firmly and steadily.
Every motion from the other nation seemed to light him on fire, and he thought several times that he was going to reach the peak, only to have it flit out of reach, until he could swear that his body would break from the unbelievable tension.
“Faster, dammit, I’m going to-”
“No, you are not. Not yet,” the other nation assured him in dark velvety tones, and England had no choice but to trust him.
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“Fuck you, France, just fucking fuck me now.”
Then England felt France’s irresistible tongue leave him, and he moaned in impatience, wondering just how much longer this foreplay could last. He would never ever admit to being possibly, occasionally, a little bit… premature… but on the other hand, he did not think it was good for his heart to be strung out for so long like this. Just when he was about to get up on his elbows and give France another tongue-lashing, he felt something hot and wet engulf the entirety of his cock, drinking in the moisture collecting on the tip, and the back of his head hit the wood of the desk with a loud thud.
“Give me a little warning next time, bastard!” England hissed, wincing, but of course, France was not in a position to answer, too preoccupied with giving head as only he could accomplish, with sliding his slick fingers up between spread legs, pushing confidently in through the initial tight resistance, reaching for that spot he knew would achieve maximum pleasure. And he soon had England thrashing and moaning under his expert ministrations, taut body arcing upward in an effort to seek relief.
Desperately, England wound his fingers into France’s long hair, practically sobbing from the growing scorching tightness in his vital regions, begging France to take him now, or he’ll brain him with this paperweight. But France ignored him as always, making pleased humming noises as he continued working England up into a frenzy with his lips and tongue and throat and much too clever fingers. England’s threats soon dissolved into shuddering wordless gasps as he thrust into France’s mouth, completely under his former enemy’s mercy.
Finally, France backed off, freeing his fingers with a slippery noise, and he got to his feet with a smirk, looking down at the ravished creature panting below him.
“Desole, mon chaton… Have I hurt you?”
“I’m… going to hurt you… if you don’t get that cock in me now.”
“Ah, but you admit this was worth the wait, hmm?”
England managed to coordinate his bones and muscles and nerves enough to kick France in the stomach, and France decided it would be best to oblige the other nation at once.
[damn, writing this sex scene is like running a marathon, not sure if I can make it.]
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anon.
anon.
If writing this is like running a marathon, consider me the equivalent of TEN MILLION PEOPLE CHEERING YOU ON.
YOU CAN DO ITTTT~
huffhuffhuffhuff
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To expand on the marathon metaphor, you're practically in the home stretch at this point. And the ending will be glorious, I can already tell.
Holy christ I'm glad I kept this tab up.
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THAT MAKES 20 MILLION PEOPLE CHEERING YOU ON! YOU CAN DO IT, ANON, GO³!!*cheers*
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this is so perfect and in character and sajhfksjdhfkjlc I love them and I love you
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“What the hell are you doing? Get over here!” England demanded imperiously, pointing between his legs. France laughed from where he was stepping out of his trousers, a low golden ripple of sound that made England shiver in want despite himself.
“Now, now, I told you to be patient,” France murmured, one hand moving down to work his own erection into fullness. “Boys who can not behave themselves will have to be punished.”
England snorted out of habit. “And what makes you think I don’t want to be punished?”
“Oh, how naughty!” But France had returned to his former position, and England surged forward to meet that body warmth, eager to continue. He reached out with one hand to touch the other’s flushed cock, grinning to hear that sharp hiss of pleasure.
“A-ah! Mon chou, if you do not mind…”
It was but the work of a moment to place both hands around France, pulling and stroking and becoming familiar with heat and feel of his arousal. England could not help but stare open-mouthed as he rubbed the head with his thumb, smearing the pearly liquid that seeped out from the tip, until France gently pulled his hands away to thoroughly cover himself with the last bit of lube. Not knowing what else to do, he looked up into France’s face, and breath caught in his throat, had to quickly look away again before he said something stupid. Instead, England concentrated on the glint of fluorescent light off of long blond hair, the faint sheen of perspiration on his collarbone, the cut and dip of muscle on his abdomen, the curl of the light brown hair at the base of his cock.
“Are you fucking ready yet?” he stammered, catching himself before he started to beg.
France did not answer, just kissed him, long and slow and sweet, stealing his breath away and rekindling the lust in his body that had almost ebbed away in the past few minutes. Before England even realized it, he was on his back, legs spread, France’s cock touching him, rubbing at the tender skin there in preparation.
“Je t’aime, mon Angleterre,” France whispered softly, meaninglessly.
He was in no danger of crying, but England closed his eyes anyway when France pushed in one smooth confident motion, concentrating on the sudden unbelievable rush of pleasure that was the sensation of being filled so perfectly. They had done this so many times before, but every time it felt new, and he moved along with France’s hips to help him hit that spot. Not that he needed much help, not by now.
With each thrust from the other nation, England tried to muffle his ecstatic cries, but it was getting exceedingly difficult now that he had been in a state of arousal for so long. At one point, he decided to forget about being discreet; no one was probably going to hear them anyway.
Panting and moaning shamelessly, England blindly reached up to grab the edge of the desk as France continued fucking him, trying to find some leverage so that he could push back. The other’s heavy breathing suddenly turned much more erratic, and he laughed like a maniac as he drove them inexorably closer to orgasm.
“Admit it… you are… grateful that I drugged you?” France asked once, one hand gripping at England’s ankle and dragging it up to his shoulder.
“Shut up,” England gasped in reply, but he was grinning, and he did not care if France saw just how much he enjoyed this.
It seemed as if seconds had turned into minutes and minutes into hours before France slammed into him one last time, groaning as he came. Just hearing him was enough to tip England over the edge, and with a broken sob, he arced upward, sweaty back clearing the desk, shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure overcame his senses.
[...anon is almost done.]
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Y-yum. Just, just... YUM. <3333
/incoherence
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“Hey,” England mumbled as soon as France paused and glanced up at him, eyes half-lidded, lips glistening.
“Quoi?”
“I was just wondering… how long this drug lasts…”
France appeared to be considering the answer. “I am not really sure, since you took an extra dose. It could be a few more hours or perhaps several more.”
“Enough for another go? Maybe more?” England asked hopefully as France moved up so that they were face to face again.
“Why don’t we go up to my room and find out?” Another absolutely filthy French kiss to make his point clear.
“Mmm…” England sighed as they broke apart, lazy satisfaction suffusing his body as the drug’s effects continued to dance throughout his bloodstream. “But you are going to have to carry me, I don’t think I can walk.”
“Of course, mon ami.”
They reluctantly dressed, leaving the window open a crack and hoping that no one would be using this office soon. Then France easily scooped England into his arms, carrying him to the elevator, where he set him down and they proceeded to make out yet again.
Things might have gone more smoothly had the elevator not stopped on the 5th floor and the doors opened to reveal a very surprised maid. There was a second of shocked silence before the maid found her voice.
“Oh, Mr. Kirkland! I-I am so sorry about the tea, if you like, I can make another cup and take it up to your-“
“No, it’s fine, thank you,” England said kindly as the elevator doors closed on her apologetic offer. He already got what he wanted right here by his side.
[Notes: Viagra was developed by Pfizer, an American based pharmaceutical company, in Sandwich, England. It is a phosphodiesterase inhibitor, which prevents the body from breaking down substances in the bloodstream that are required to maintain an erection. It does not increase libido, and sexual stimulation should be performed in order for the drug to work. Common side effects include flushing, nasal congestion, dizziness, muscle pain, and priapism (an erection lasting longer than four hours.) …Eeehyup, I don’t think I’ve ever written so much purple prose filth before in my life.]
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LOVE
THIS
FILL.
AND YOU TOO, ANON~♥
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Mine seems to have left somewhere, sorry I can't supply my own. XD
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