America sighed and leaned against the railing, the narrow strip of wood being the only thing between him and a fifty foot fall into the ravine below. He sighed again, the only noise to override the sound of the shimmering Aspen and pine trees below. It was fall, and for some reason this was where he wanted to be. Row after row of mountaintop loomed in the distance, emerging little by little from the misty haze of night as the sunrise burned it off.
He pinched a pine-cone from an overhanging limb and dropped it into the ravine. After knocking loose some deep red mud, it disappeared long before hitting the rapids, which set him to mind of finding something larger to drop, which brought him back to his original train of thought.
He remembered riding England. Oh, how great it had been, grasping the shoulders beneath him in a death drip and forcing his dick deeper, deeper. They were both covered in sweat, and England had one hand up, as though to encourage more, but the words were never needed. America knew exactly what he wanted, and as it happened, he wanted exactly the same. He kissed the man hungrily, covering his cheeks and forehead with kisses when he refused to accept further mistreatment of his mouth. He knew that he was rough and overeager, but that was a good thing, wasn't it? Wasn't that what kept England coming back for more? He knew that the old man could, at a word, have nearly any country he wished, whether from exploiting their own desire, or the fear he had long ago instilled in them.
He had begged England to come, to come inside him. He had clutched England roughly to him as he filled him with hot bursts of cum that leaked between them.
Remembering the little details, down to the way England had blushed at the notion of being ridden by the American, was making him far too hot. He needed someone, and that was what had gotten him into this mess to begin with. He leaned further against the railing, the cold mountain breezes enticing him to join them. A hawk cried somewhere far off. He had come here to distance himself. It was self-imposed isolation, because he didn't know what to do, what to think, how anyone would react, let alone England. It was his own fault, and he was the only one who had to deal with it. He rubbed his stomach lightly with his fingertips. No longer solid from working at jobs ranging from construction to military service to the railroads and more, it was soft and lightly rounded.
It had come as a shock, and anger had welled up inside him, ready to kill it and everyone else. But how could he do that? The hero never kills the innocent. And after a while he had become used to the idea. The reactions of the others, of course, had flickered mercilessly through his mind and he had dragged himself to the middle of nowhere, telling no one where he was going, or when he would be back. He was alone. It was a severe change for the man, used to being the center of attention, whether it be good or bad. It was a welcome respite at first, but he now longed to be back in action. He missed the battles and games and the gratification of a hard day's work. And to his surprise, he missed...
"Arthur..." He sighed, the name so quiet that it barely passed his lips. He had been with plenty of countries at one time or another. Alliances and agreements were always sealed properly. He should hate the man, for trying to squash his spirit and control him, however long ago it was. Why should time matter? Countries didn't just change. And now this. He shouldn't even be able to GET pregnant. It wasn't possible, was it? Then again, he had never actually asked the older countries about their origins. And Matty had always been his brother...
The front door slammed with a spring-furled snap, and seconds later, Alfred was peering around the corner with a loaded shotgun at the ready.
"Alfred?" The intruder asked, catching sight of the blonde. He lowered his weapon slightly, a rush of welcome coming to him. All the hours thinking of how much he wanted the man was nothing compared to the complete relief and happiness of actually having him. The back of his mind damned the hormones, but he was willing to give in.
"I wondered if you'd be here. It's the last place any of us would have looked, and..." Arthur stopped, just staring. Alfred had come around from the corner, forgetting about his current state. He looked down, blushed scarlet and turned, pretending to be returning his shotgun to its pegs.
"We... wondered where you had gone. Thought perhaps you'd been kidnapped..." He laughed a little, but it died at the look on Alfred's face. He was close to tears and kept looking about, as though in panic.
"I'm fine, fine. Don't know why you bothered coming out here." He fell back in a chair, trying to put on the same air he had before. As though the world was safetly under his supervision.
His attitude was shattered as Arthur looped his arms around him from behind and kissed the top of his head. America felt as though he had melted and words wouldn't come. His eyes teared up and before he could stop it, he was crying silently. Arthur kissed his tears and ran one of his hands lovingly over the small bulge in his stomach.
"It's okay." He whispered, touching his lips lightly to the mussed blonde hair. "I felt the same." Alfred looked up in surprise and he laughed. "Did you really think it was FRANCIS who had you and Matthew? Don't let him tell you anything of the sort."
"I didn't... Didn't know anything." Alfred said helplessly. "I'm sorry to have.. .Damn if this isn't stupid. Well, sorry for making you come out here and shit.... It's all my fault. You didn't have to."
Arthur tilted his head and blinked. "But I love you." He tilted Alfred's jaw upward with a finger and kissed him deeply. All the time he had longed for England's presence, he had pushed it back without letting himself wonder where it came from. But he did... He loved the man too.
He allowed England to lead him to the bedroom where they undressed and kissed for a long time, slowly tasting eachother while their hands lingered on shoulders, hips, the crook of a neck and the bend of a knee. This time England laid America back into the patchwork quilt and held his wrists to his sides as he kissed a trail down from his kiss-tender lips to his bellybutton. He sighed happily, and America flushed with pleasure. He shifted to encourage England's entrance, but he shook his head and instead swallowed his cock. It tasted of precum and sweat and he swirled his tongue around the head to better enjoy. America twitched and moaned, unable to grasp Arthur's head because if his hands being held. When he finally stopped, moments before causing a climax in his mouth, he straddled Alfred's hips and cupped his cheek.
"I'm going to ride you now." The simplest of statements, yet it went straight to his cock, which twitched against England's skin. He smiled and slid himself over the shaft. America was going to stop him, to remind him of lubricant, but it couldn't make its way through the incoherent moans of his name. He stuck for a moment, before sliding smoothely in. Arthur paused, Alfred's entire dick erect inside his ass. He reached down to feel the skin where they connected and tease the patch of blonde hair on his partner's abdomen.
"Does it hurt?" Alfred finally managed. Arthur smiled and moved in response, pulling the length from him before slamming down on it again. It hurt him no more than the nights when France would shove him over a tabletop, against a wall, wherever and slam into him over and over again, hitting his prostate only by luck. And people thought that he knew what he was doing... It was no wonder he didn't have more colonies.
Alfred was groaning and bucking, trying to make Arthur move again, and he did, slipping into a steady pace and adjusting every so often to hit that sweet spot. He could feel the need for release well up in him with every draw, and as he stroked his cock with a saliva-lubricated hand, Alfred came at the sight of the man kneeling over him, head lolling back, erection in one palm while the other balanced himself. Arthur groaned at being filled with cum. It had been so very long since he had taken it. Not since the precious time that resulted in his twins; his lovers.
He kissed Alfred's panting mouth and fell beside him, one hand on his belly again.
Re: Unnamed 3
anonymous
August 3 2009, 12:28:21 UTC
Actually, it was the incest so visible in this fill that made me so interested in this fic (and the smut, of course :3). It's ironic how America got impregnated by who is technically his mother. @________@ Ah, but their child would later on be confused. He/she is America's sibling and at the same time, his child, while England would be his/her's father slash grandmother. Ahahaha. :)
He pinched a pine-cone from an overhanging limb and dropped it into the ravine. After knocking loose some deep red mud, it disappeared long before hitting the rapids, which set him to mind of finding something larger to drop, which brought him back to his original train of thought.
He remembered riding England. Oh, how great it had been, grasping the shoulders beneath him in a death drip and forcing his dick deeper, deeper. They were both covered in sweat, and England had one hand up, as though to encourage more, but the words were never needed. America knew exactly what he wanted, and as it happened, he wanted exactly the same. He kissed the man hungrily, covering his cheeks and forehead with kisses when he refused to accept further mistreatment of his mouth. He knew that he was rough and overeager, but that was a good thing, wasn't it? Wasn't that what kept England coming back for more? He knew that the old man could, at a word, have nearly any country he wished, whether from exploiting their own desire, or the fear he had long ago instilled in them.
He had begged England to come, to come inside him. He had clutched England roughly to him as he filled him with hot bursts of cum that leaked between them.
Remembering the little details, down to the way England had blushed at the notion of being ridden by the American, was making him far too hot. He needed someone, and that was what had gotten him into this mess to begin with. He leaned further against the railing, the cold mountain breezes enticing him to join them. A hawk cried somewhere far off. He had come here to distance himself. It was self-imposed isolation, because he didn't know what to do, what to think, how anyone would react, let alone England. It was his own fault, and he was the only one who had to deal with it. He rubbed his stomach lightly with his fingertips. No longer solid from working at jobs ranging from construction to military service to the railroads and more, it was soft and lightly rounded.
It had come as a shock, and anger had welled up inside him, ready to kill it and everyone else. But how could he do that? The hero never kills the innocent. And after a while he had become used to the idea. The reactions of the others, of course, had flickered mercilessly through his mind and he had dragged himself to the middle of nowhere, telling no one where he was going, or when he would be back. He was alone. It was a severe change for the man, used to being the center of attention, whether it be good or bad. It was a welcome respite at first, but he now longed to be back in action. He missed the battles and games and the gratification of a hard day's work. And to his surprise, he missed...
"Arthur..." He sighed, the name so quiet that it barely passed his lips. He had been with plenty of countries at one time or another. Alliances and agreements were always sealed properly. He should hate the man, for trying to squash his spirit and control him, however long ago it was. Why should time matter? Countries didn't just change. And now this. He shouldn't even be able to GET pregnant. It wasn't possible, was it? Then again, he had never actually asked the older countries about their origins. And Matty had always been his brother...
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"Alfred?" The intruder asked, catching sight of the blonde. He lowered his weapon slightly, a rush of welcome coming to him. All the hours thinking of how much he wanted the man was nothing compared to the complete relief and happiness of actually having him. The back of his mind damned the hormones, but he was willing to give in.
"I wondered if you'd be here. It's the last place any of us would have looked, and..." Arthur stopped, just staring. Alfred had come around from the corner, forgetting about his current state. He looked down, blushed scarlet and turned, pretending to be returning his shotgun to its pegs.
"We... wondered where you had gone. Thought perhaps you'd been kidnapped..." He laughed a little, but it died at the look on Alfred's face. He was close to tears and kept looking about, as though in panic.
"I'm fine, fine. Don't know why you bothered coming out here." He fell back in a chair, trying to put on the same air he had before. As though the world was safetly under his supervision.
His attitude was shattered as Arthur looped his arms around him from behind and kissed the top of his head. America felt as though he had melted and words wouldn't come. His eyes teared up and before he could stop it, he was crying silently. Arthur kissed his tears and ran one of his hands lovingly over the small bulge in his stomach.
"It's okay." He whispered, touching his lips lightly to the mussed blonde hair. "I felt the same." Alfred looked up in surprise and he laughed. "Did you really think it was FRANCIS who had you and Matthew? Don't let him tell you anything of the sort."
"I didn't... Didn't know anything." Alfred said helplessly. "I'm sorry to have.. .Damn if this isn't stupid. Well, sorry for making you come out here and shit.... It's all my fault. You didn't have to."
Arthur tilted his head and blinked. "But I love you." He tilted Alfred's jaw upward with a finger and kissed him deeply. All the time he had longed for England's presence, he had pushed it back without letting himself wonder where it came from. But he did... He loved the man too.
He allowed England to lead him to the bedroom where they undressed and kissed for a long time, slowly tasting eachother while their hands lingered on shoulders, hips, the crook of a neck and the bend of a knee. This time England laid America back into the patchwork quilt and held his wrists to his sides as he kissed a trail down from his kiss-tender lips to his bellybutton. He sighed happily, and America flushed with pleasure. He shifted to encourage England's entrance, but he shook his head and instead swallowed his cock. It tasted of precum and sweat and he swirled his tongue around the head to better enjoy. America twitched and moaned, unable to grasp Arthur's head because if his hands being held. When he finally stopped, moments before causing a climax in his mouth, he straddled Alfred's hips and cupped his cheek.
"I'm going to ride you now." The simplest of statements, yet it went straight to his cock, which twitched against England's skin. He smiled and slid himself over the shaft. America was going to stop him, to remind him of lubricant, but it couldn't make its way through the incoherent moans of his name. He stuck for a moment, before sliding smoothely in. Arthur paused, Alfred's entire dick erect inside his ass. He reached down to feel the skin where they connected and tease the patch of blonde hair on his partner's abdomen.
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Alfred was groaning and bucking, trying to make Arthur move again, and he did, slipping into a steady pace and adjusting every so often to hit that sweet spot. He could feel the need for release well up in him with every draw, and as he stroked his cock with a saliva-lubricated hand, Alfred came at the sight of the man kneeling over him, head lolling back, erection in one palm while the other balanced himself. Arthur groaned at being filled with cum. It had been so very long since he had taken it. Not since the precious time that resulted in his twins; his lovers.
He kissed Alfred's panting mouth and fell beside him, one hand on his belly again.
- Note: I tried, yes? ^_^" -
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Wouldn't that be funny if arthur and alfred were pregnant at the same time?
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