Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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England halted and turned blazing green eyes on the boy. “Are you fucking daft?! There is no way in hell would I ever let you top me! You little sod, I can’t believe you would even dare to ask!”
Just for that, England was going to make him suffer through taking his shoes and pants completely off before he continued. Just as he was privately getting off on punishing America for his cheek, the boy felt strangely aroused at hearing the uptight nation swearing like, well, a sailor.
Once America’s lower half was as naked as possible, and once England had paused long enough to appreciate the sight of his flushed and frustrated colony, the Empire positioned himself on his knees more comfortably. Stroking his hands lightly up the outside of America’s thighs (just because he loved feeling the boy shiver like that), he said, “Now I want you to pay attention to what I’m going to do. It’s something you ought to learn how to do properly, and today is a fine time to do so.”
“Wh-what are you going to do?” America asked warily, eyes locked on the larger hands now resting on his hips. “Is this the part that’s gonna hurt a little?”
“No, this would only hurt if I wasn’t mindful of my teeth,” England replied, smirking. “Matthew may not have done this with Francis, actually. Though I suppose it’s only a matter of time...”
“God, don’t start ranting about Francis being a pervert! Whatever it is, just do it before I die!” the colony half-demanded, half-whined.
The older nation smiled smugly. “As you wish.”
England leaned forward, bent his head down, and took all of his colony into his mouth. The boy was still growing so it was hardly a challenge to do so, but the way his entire body tensed up and he sucked in a sharp gasp was nevertheless satisfying. Before America had time to register what was going on, England moved his lips back up, sucking gently, and gave the tip a long, slow lick. America moaned loudly and unashamedly. As if England’s pants hadn’t been tight enough.
He continued tormenting the boy with the languid motions of his mouth, holding his twitching hips down and reveling in the gorgeous sounds he was making. America’s hands were fisted in England’s hair, alternately trying to push him down and pull him back up. The nation prevented him from doing that too often by increasing the intensity of his sucking and licking, which made the colony’s fingers spasm helplessly as pleasure spiked through him.
It had only been a few very short minutes, but judging by the way America writhed in the chair at every movement of England’s mouth, he was almost at his breaking point. The same could be said for England’s pants, as a matter of fact. He had no choice but to release his aching member, sighing and moaning lowly in relief.
The vibration of his moan made the colony cry out and arch off the chair. England pulled back and released the dripping organ from his mouth. America whimpered and gave him a pleading look.
“Do you want me to let you finish?”
The boy nodded frantically.
Leaning back down over America’s hips, England couldn’t resist. “What do you say?”
The feel of the Empire’s breath on his heated skin was almost enough to push him over the edge. He was far gone enough not to really think about what came out of his mouth next.
“Please, daddy!”
In the next moments, England did something with his mouth (neither of them were really paying attention to what it was) that made America nearly scream as he finally felt release rush through him. England was simultaneously hit with an unexpected wave of pleasure before he could clamp his hand around the base of his arousal. After he swallowed, he looked down and saw - to his extreme befuddlement - that he indeed came without even touching himself.
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And calling him “daddy.” Good Lord. America must have been talking to the fairies or something; how else could he have known about that particular kink? Thinking about it reminded England of how questionable this entire situation was, but replaying “please, daddy” in his head a few times made him forget that in favor of his rapidly returning hard-on.
Turning his attention back to his now boneless and sated colony, England asked, still feeling a bit hazy (but also very smug) himself, “So did Matthew say anything about that?”
America shook his head weakly. “I have no clue what you did, but it felt awesome.”
“So much for teaching you something,” the nation sighed. “Well, it isn’t as if we can’t repeat the lesson some other time.”
America perked right up at that. “R-really?”
“I don’t see why not. Though I suppose it will depend on your behavior...” England couldn’t help but give the boy a sadistic little smirk at that.
“Oh... Right...” he replied, suddenly looking ashamed and nervous. “I-I really didn’t mean to say that last thing... That was really childish, wasn’t it?”
England stood up and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek - a tender gesture America hadn’t seen from the man in years. “I’m not holding it against you, Alfred. You’ve been very mature so far,” he said gently. “And besides, I liked it.”
America blinked up at him in confusion. “You... like me calling you ‘daddy’?”
The Empire shivered and moved his head to kiss the boy’s slender neck. “Quite.”
“Do you want me to just call you that all the time?”
“No, only when we’re like this. In any other case, ‘Arthur’ is fine.”
America smiled brightly and wrapped his arms around England’s neck, forcing him to look at him face to face. After pressing a quick kiss to England’s lips, he asked very simply, “Okay, so can we go have sex for real now, daddy?”
The Empire forced down a pathetically needy whimper. Judging by the state of affairs in his southern regions, there was no mistaking how much he wanted to do just that.
“Get your clothes and come to my bedroom. I’ll go close the hall drapes ahead of you so the neighbors don’t see you parading around half-naked,” he said, trying not to sound so hopelessly aroused.
America nodded eagerly and hopped off the chair, looking for wherever his pants went. England left the room and did as he said he would. Satisfied that his and America’s dirty little secret was safe, he went into his bedroom and began lighting the lamps in the darkened room since opening the drapes was out of the question and doing this in the dark seemed insensitive.
America padded in after him after a few moments and unceremoniously dumped his clothes in a pile near the door. Under normal circumstances, England would have made him stop to fold them up and place them neatly on a chair, but right now he was too busy ogling the boy’s ass. America began unbuttoning his shirt quickly, but England grabbed his hands.
“Allow me,” he practically purred, slowly continuing the boy’s action. America smiled and rested his hands on the nation’s shoulders, standing on tiptoe for another kiss as the other’s fingers caressed his bared chest. The white shirt slid off his small shoulders and dropped to the floor, and England was only a little surprised that he didn’t care if it got dirty. His floors were probably pretty clean anyway.
His colony’s hands pulled him back into the situation by unbuttoning England’s shirt and slipping it off, with very little finesse but many exploratory (almost shy - as if shyness was still warranted or even possible at this point) touches. The Empire hadn’t bothered to re-fasten his own belt so at least the boy didn’t have to fumble with that. Slipping England’s pants down and off, America made up for his complete inexperience with sheer boldness, feeling up the nation’s ass and thighs as he removed the garment.
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England mentally slapped himself for letting his mind wander again when he had the real, live colony right in front of him. Absent-mindedly piling his clothes on a chair, England said in as steady a voice as possible, “Lay down on the bed.”
The colony obeyed, hopping up and making himself comfortable against the downy pillows, watching England expectantly. Fighting the urge to just jump on him and ravish him straight through the mattress, the older nation fumbled with a fancy box hidden in his wardrobe, carefully removing a little glass vial filled with a clear liquid.
“What’s that?” the boy asked.
“This will make things more comfortable for you,” he replied. “Did Matthew mention anything about this?”
“I think so, if you’re gonna do what I think you’re gonna do with it,” America replied, the corner of his mouth twitching into an excited little smirk.
England climbed onto the bed and knelt over the colony, bending down to explore his mouth a bit more and let his hands wander across his unscarred body. He wanted America to be absolutely desperate before he moved beyond foreplay, but America was impatient, hooking his feet around the backs of England’s knees and attempting to pull him closer.
“C’mon, daddy,” he whined. “Do it already!”
“This isn’t something that should be rushed,” he replied patiently, his breath hitching. “If I go too quickly, you’ll be in a lot of pain and we’ll have to stop.” England heaped praise on himself for being so considerate even after the boy hit the daddy kink yet again.
America rolled his eyes dramatically. “If Matt can handle it, I can handle it.”
Well, if that’s what he wanted, then that’s what he was going to get. Who was England to deny him when he had such a good point? (And it was only because of that, and not because England’s self-control was nearly gone, or that his dick was starting to hurt after being so damn hard for this long.)
Finally, the Empire poured a generous amount of the liquid onto his fingers and murmured, “It takes a little while to warm this stuff up,” and slowly pushed the first finger inside him. America shivered at the cool slickness and shifted a little.
“It feels weird,” he said quietly. “But it doesn’t hurt. I guess Matt’s just a sissy.”
“One finger might not hurt but more will,” England said simply, smiling a little at the boy’s put-out expression. He began moving his finger around, stroking his inner walls, almost as if he was searching for -
“Ah!” America gasped, face flushing again. “Wh-what did you just do?”
“What do you mean?” the nation replied innocently (though his grin was nothing short of devilish). “This?” He rubbed that spot a little harder this time.
The boy gasped and moaned, unconsciously pushing his hips against England’s hand.
Incredibly satisfied with himself, England pulled his finger most of the way out and began fitting a second in beside it, before America even had a chance to complain that he had stopped.
“This is the part where it starts to sting,” he warned just as the colony tensed up from the intrusion. He didn’t want the boy to suffer any more than necessary, so he thrust both fingers in faster than he probably should have (earning him a muffled cry of pain) and began stroking that spot again.
America’s body relaxed as the pleasure began mounting again, drawing increasingly heated moans out of him. He barely even noticed when England added a third finger because he immediately went back to work on that spot.
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America shook his head violently. “No! I don’t ever want you to stop, daddy!”
Good.
England lifted the boy’s slim hips up and guided himself in as slowly as he could stand to. Once fully sheathed within his colony’s untouched body, the Empire released a shuddering sigh; he had been holding his breath, and apparently so had America, who released his with a soft moan.
“K-keep going,” he gasped, not giving England the chance to ask if he was alright.
The Empire started rocking his hips in shallow thrusts, not only to give America time to adjust but also to prolong the amazing feeling of tight, slick heat for himself. But America didn’t seem to care much about adjusting since he had wrapped is legs around England’s hips and was now pushing his own hips up awkwardly against the other’s.
“Fucking hell,” the nation groaned. His hips began pistoning harder and deeper of their own accord, encouraged by America’s absolutely wanton moaning (with some variation of “daddy, yes” thrown in every time he had a breath to spare). The boy flung his arms around England’s shoulders and used one hand to grip the man’s hair and pull him down into a messy, open-mouthed kiss.
England lifted America’s hips higher to get a better angle - and he knew he was hitting the spot dead-on because the boy’s cries of pleasure suddenly became much louder, interspersed with unintelligible gasps, hands clawing desperately at his back. The Empire continued thrusting as he licked and sucked and nipped at the slender neck bared before him. Arching his back, the colony unintentionally pressed his own agonizingly hard member between their sweating stomachs.
The delicious friction against it from England’s steady thrusting quickly sent him over the edge, screaming England’s name and nearly convulsing from the force of his orgasm.
The sight and sound and feel of his most beloved colony coming because of him (and the way the boy suddenly pulled him in as deep as he could go and tightened around him) made England come completely undone. Within seconds his hips were slamming into the other’s as he watched America’s face relax into a delightfully satisfied (if crooked) smile.
There were so many things England wanted himself to say and do at that moment - kiss him so hard his lips would turn purple from the bruise, tell him that he loved him more than anyone else and always would, at the very least let him know how good his ass felt - but all he could manage as he felt the orgasm rushing through him was a strangled moan, perhaps trying to form America’s name. England couldn’t tell and the colony looked too fuzzy to have really cared what he said.
The Empire tried not to collapse on top of the boy when his strength left him completely, and with the last bit of effort in his muscles he managed to roll to the side and land on the mattress. America shifted and made a small noise of displeasure when the nation slipped out of him, but he made up for that loss by curling his body against England’s.
Still trying to catch his breath and sort his mind out after some of the most gratifying sex he had ever had (no matter how inexperienced the boy was, the fact that he had wanted it just as much as England was more than he could say about most of his past lovers), England loosely curled his arm around the boy’s back and stroked his skin gently. He could barely open his eyes for exhaustion (only because he had done nearly all the work since the start, not because his stamina had suffered from so many years of not getting any at all) but when he managed to look at the colony through half-open lids, the expression on the boy’s face was enough to shock him fully awake.
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England could have cried.
“I love you too, Alfred.” He wrapped his arms snugly around the colony’s smaller body, pulling them flush together and resting their foreheads against each other, smiling warmly.
America seemed to be dozing off, and England was neither surprised nor sorry for it. The boy had started this because of the taxes and now was not the time to start discussing that again. The nation stroked his golden hair until he fell asleep a few minutes later. England wouldn’t lie to himself; while this had drastically changed their relationship, it changed nothing about the taxes. He knew from the start that nothing would change that, or anything else America had complained about.
But now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was the time to enjoy his beloved colony’s presence, and later would be the time to reinforce how much he truly loved him, despite everything he did that seemed cruel to the boy. It was all England could do to pray that America could accept this for what it was and that he would still say he loved England after the taxes were raised again.
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Sitting uncomfortably in England’s sitting room, France and Canada were still reeling from what they had just witnessed.
Apparently the scatterbrained Empire had completely forgotten their planned visit today. He also forgot to close a single goddamned door in his house. He also forgot that, given the opportunity, France would be voyeur to any sort of depraved act, no matter who was involved - or if poor little Canada got dragged along for the ride.
“Matthieu,” France spoke after several minutes of horrible silence. “What did you tell your brother we did?”
Hiding behind the polar bear perched next to him on the chair, Canada replied softly, “Do you remember that one day a couple weeks ago when Alfred and I were playing outside and he sort of beat me up?”
“Ah, oui,” he sighed, making a face as he added, “I believe he called it ‘wrestling.’”
“I was really sore and I kind of hurt my back so you did that massage thing with the oil that smelled really nice,” Canada continued, blushing. “That’s what I told him about.”
France groaned and buried his face in his hands. If England found out that he just fucked his colony senseless under completely false pretenses, he would probably blame it on France just because he would feel like a bastard for blaming America or Canada.
“The part that hurt a little was when you had to pull on my arm really hard to un-dislocate my shoulder,” Canada added. “But I felt great afterwards.”
France took a deep breath to calm himself and turned to the colony with a very sincere grin. “Matthieu, I am so happy you are smarter than your brother. The idea that he thought you were telling him about sex leaves me speechless - and not in the good way.”
Canada straightened up to look directly at the nation. “Non, Francis. He knew exactly what I was talking about.”
The boy was met with an open-mouthed stare.
“I wonder what Arthur will do if he finds out Alfred lied to him about us just to get in his pants...” the boy muttered thoughtfully. No matter what Arthur did, he would have a hard time feeling bad for his sneaky brother. America was a little shit for lying to England like that, but he got to have amazing sex and Canada didn’t so that was that.
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“Someday, I must thank Alfred for doing this,” France wheezed. “I have not laughed so hard in decades... He even said that you felt the same way about me - “ he guffawed again, “Perhaps I gave him too little credit... He is certainly creative.”
Canada slouched so that his furious blushing was hidden by his polar bear companion. “H-he didn’t make that part up,” he peeped.
Kumajiro rolled his eyes and abandoned the chair, padding off to raid the pantry. He didn’t feel like sticking around for what was bound to happen next.
France abruptly stopped laughing and stared at Canada, now very visible and embarrassed with his polar bear shield gone. He moved to kneel in front of him and asked, “You mean you do have feelings for me?”
Canada stopped trying to disappear into the cushions and nodded anxiously, staring at the arm of the chair so he wouldn’t have to see France’s reaction immediately. Honestly, what if he laughed or yelled at him for being a reverse-pedophile like his ruffian brother? Canada knew that they were two of the worst possible outcomes and therefore assumed that one or the other would happen.
He felt smooth fingers with manicured nails close around his small, fidgeting hands, and a tender kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth. The boy’s head turned sharply to meet France’s charming smile.
“It seems everyone around here has been keeping their affections to themselves, non?” he said. “But no matter what eyebrows has told you, I am not a self-centered sex fiend and I will not insist that we make love this very instant. We will go at whatever pace you like, Matthieu.”
“Really?” Canada perked up. “Well, in that case, I -”
“And we will do things however it is most comfortable for you -”
“That’s great, but - “
“- because it is your pleasure that is most important to me, and I am more than happy to do things differently if it will make it good for you -”
“Francis -”
“- because I really do love you very dearly, Matthieu, and not in the same way I love anyone else, mind you, because that’s totally different and I would never show up at your doorstep in the middle of the night for a booty call, though on that note I should tell you that you will always be welcome at my home for such purposes -”
“I don’t even know what that means but -”
“ - but to return to the present, I think I will leave eyebrows a note telling him how big of an idiot he is for ignoring us, and then we can go home and I can get that massage oil you liked so much and you can just relax and maybe we can cuddle a bit, since I’m sure you’ll need plenty of time to get comfortable before you want to move forward, and as I said, I am completely fine with that so do not feel pressured to do anything you do not want to because the last thing I want is for you to feel unhappy in any way, shape or fo-”
Canada grabbed the front of France’s expensive coat and dragged him into an astonishingly dominating kiss. Before the experienced nation could overcome his shock and kiss the boy back, Canada released him, still looking flushed but in a very different way.
“Francis.”
“O-oui, mon petit castor?”
“We are going to go home right now, and we are going to have sex until the sun comes up, and it is going to be a million times better than what Alfred and Arthur just did, and you can stop acting like I’m a fragile flower because my brother is only barely stronger than me and that means I am perfectly fine with it being rough - and that I could easily top you if I wanted to.”
France stared.
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France could only nod weakly, adding in a strained voice, “But we must leave immediately or else I am afraid my new pants will be ruined beyond repair, and that is saying quite a lot since unlike eyebrows, I have a very healthy love life and I am not repressed at all, and -”
“Francis, if you don’t shut up and get in the carriage, I won’t let you find out if I secretly know how to give a better blowjob than my brother could ever hope to.”
________________________________________
On his way to the bathroom to get something to clean America and himself off with, England opened the hall drapes just in time to see France and Canada making a mad dash for their carriage, with the latter’s polar bear rushing to catch up.
A fairy flitted over to sit on the windowsill and watch the blood drain from England's face.
All he had to do was give her a look that held one horrifying question, and she replied, “Yes. They were there the whole time, and they did hear everything.”
England fainted.
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You keep up that “deny, deny, deny” attitude, England. It only makes you look even more gentlemanly. *cough*
If only America had used a similar tactic later on, we totally could have avoided the Revolutionary War.
Moronanon would like to note that, technically, Canada shouldn’t be living with France at this point. Maybe he’s just spending the week at his mom’s France’s house?
mon petit castor = my little beaver (Moronanon saw this term of endearment used in other fics and felt utterly compelled to use it. Credit and internetz go to whichever anon started it.)
Oh yeah, and Canada totally topped when they got home.
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America being deceitful was a total shock and it was written so beautifully. Everyone was in character and I did enjoy the bit at the end with France and Canada.
Those conversations were just priceless. Keep on writing anon. This is totally amazing.
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I tried writing a few other fills but none of them turned out half as good as this. I shall go look for more, though, now that my smut-writing cherry has been popped. o3o
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And so, over 250 years of UST later...
England and America were lying, sweaty, panting on the rumpled bed with evidence of their activities still fresh.
"Get off, you're crushing me," England grumbled half-heartedly. The stupid git hadn't even bothered to pull out yet.
Strangely enough, America didn't retort straight away, which instantly put England on guard. Jabs about his weight usually got to him. Looking up, he saw an extremely unsettling smirk on the other's face. Warily he asked, "What is it?"
America gave England a quick peck on the nose, smug smile still in place, before answering, "I believe your exact words were," America put on a phony British accent and frowned in an eerily similar manner to England, “Are you fucking daft?! There is no way in hell would I ever let you top me! You little sod, I can’t believe you would even dare to ask!”
England frowned as he wracked his memory. Suddenly, things clicked into place.
Oh.
Staring at America in disbelief, he gave him a long look before kicking him off the bed.
And that is the story of how America was banished to the couch for a month.
lolol idk xDDD
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Also: YES. XD If I wrote a sequel to this, that's pretty much how shit would have gone down. Poor England, being forced to eat his own words like that. XD
Either that or America would finally tell England that the Cake was a Lie and England's brain would go kablooie because he can't handle the truth. And France and Canada would be snickering in the background as America valiantly tries to resuscitate him. (How he tries to do this would be left to the reader's imagination, of course. Ohoho~ )
reCaptcha: suffers Brooklyn (Apparently England would kick the shit out of Brooklyn in retaliation? XD)
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Here's hoping that you'll post more sexy fills. *raise glass* I'll be rereading this steamy piece of sex.
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reCaptcha: Kiddied lands (AAAHAHAHAHAA, poor England)
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My brain exploded. Is being rebooted.
Two words: Fucking. Awesome.
reCaptcha says: was virgin XD Why yes, Alfred was.
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