Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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“How’d it start? Oh, it was something like this, I think-“ and he shoved America in the chest. America laughed and shoved back - but not nearly as hard. Predator-like, he crept over Canada’s legs, and Canada surrendered easily, letting America slide his hand up his thigh. It glanced lightly off his groin and slipped further upwards, smoothing rounds over his stomach and brushing his chest with the lightest brush. Canada shivered again and America moved in quickly, securing a kiss with little effort.
“I thought there was more roughhousing?”
“Oh, you want it rougher?” Canada asked, and slid his fingers down America’s stomach to the sensitive skin above his groin, digging his fingernails in. America drew a breath through his teeth in response, and Florida grew in stature a little.
From his chair, England could feel sweat beginning to prickle at every pore. Were they trying to kill him? If they were, he couldn’t think of a better way to die. He could feel his breathing quicken as his brain redirected blood to his southern borders in an effort to raise the drawbridge.
“Don’t,” he whispered, but America laughed.
“Are you serious? Don’t? That’s not the England I know.”
A flash of regret passed over Canada’s face and he paused for a moment, before getting to his feet. He padded over to England and paused again briefly before straddling his lap. Tucking his legs behind the back legs of the chair, he pulled himself tighter to England until their crotches were pressed together so tightly that not a breath of air could have slipped between them - and oh, didn’t England know it. If he did then Canada did, because his groin was alive and quite out of his control. Canada pressed his whole body against England on the chair, making it creak and groan as he wrapped both arms around England. His skin was warm against England’s nose, and he smelled like soap.
“This is for you,” he whispered, kissing England’s cheek. “Don’t say ‘don’t’.
“You always wanted America, always loved him best. But he won’t let you touch him, won’t let you be one with him. You’re used to using me, aren’t you, England-san? My people, my resources - my loyalty.
“I went to war for you. When England was at war, Canada was at war. I fed your people too, back then, when the poppies were high on the Somme. The cold I got after that war was almost as bad as your own. I proved myself then, didn’t I? And in return, you gave me my first signature on a treaty.
“I want you to use me as your proxy. Let me do this for you. Let me give you what you’ve always sought, and never had the courage to ask for. Use me to do all the things to him you wish you could, but can’t. I won’t make a single move without your instruction.
“Let me give you back your control over us for just one night.”
England froze in his chair as his mind clouded over; this couldn’t possibly be bloody happening.
“Remember though, I’m all grown up now. I’m an independent nation, and I have rules.” Canada kissed England’s cheek again sensuously and got to his feet - much to England disappointment. The room was far from cold, but he felt the absence of his son against his chest as though he were naked and out of doors, awaiting the latent snow storm threatening to break.
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