Hetalia Kink meme part 9 -- CLOSED
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hetalia kink meme
part 9
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( Christmas Reveals )
It all starts because America thinks porn is hilarious.
There isn’t anything remotely sexy about it. He’s got a medium-sized collection at home, a sort of “Evolution of the Porn Industry in America Throughout the Ages” thing going on. Half of them are gifts from France. Sometimes, on a rainy day when there aren’t any new games to play and no one is answering their phone, America will pop something in the player, sit down with a tub of popcorn, and spend the afternoon in hysterics over the overdone moans and oiled bodies in motion. Some people masturbate; America giggles.
And it’s all a perfectly kept secret until he begins sleeping with Canada.
No one don’t really plans on having sex with their brother; it just kind of happens. With the aids of alcohol, economic anxiety, and good intentions. If it doesn’t mess anything up, then why not keep what feels good? That’s America’s philosophy on the matter, anyway-right up until his stomach starts somersaulting whenever Canada touches him, and he counts the days until his next trip to Ontario, and he finds himself grinning like a lunatic in the mirror because Canada, Canada, is really sort of very totally awesome. He decides not to mention anything to Canada because they’re still working through the whole sex thing, forget the somersaulting.
So, yeah. Most of the time, America puts his body and brain and heart on the “Ignore” shelf. It’s safer that way.
But getting back to the porn, the thing is, Canada’s more than good at taking America apart and putting him back together. He’s also all that other stuff. Stuff like, the guy who watches hockey with America. And makes pecan pancakes. And listens quietly to tirades about the media. And doesn’t make fun of America when using the spare key to enter the house in secret (surprise Chinese take-out!), thus interrupting America’s giggle fit over double penetration, and how that is so fucking funny.
The bubbling laughter dies pretty quick. “Oh my god,” says America, because that seems appropriate. “Uh. This is. This.”
Canada stares over the sofa at the television screen, which is doing a smash-up job of showing off just how much cock can fit into one hole. The surprise Chinese take-out is still hanging in his arms. For a second, the atmosphere is distinctly uncomfortable, and America half-frantically thinks that now would be a good time to tell his brother that he’s madly in love with him (so please don’t leave the room right now, I might cry).
Then Canada says, “At four-thirty in the afternoon?”
And America sputters, “I-It’s not like I watch it to get off!”
It all comes out in the open after that-a weird but acceptable habit, Canada notes out loud, a smile edging his lips up. He tugs on America’s hair with affection. “I’ve never really understood it,” he admits. “Too dramatic.”
“It’s like soaps,” America agrees, too fast, pressing into Canada’s touch. “I can’t help it, they’re just funny.”
Canada laughs. Then he kisses him, a touch shy but getting more sure of himself here, like this, with America.
They soon lose themselves to fingertips drifting under t-shirts and teeth scraping against shoulders. America’s arousal stirs hungry and cautious in his belly, heat following the trail that Canada traces across his collarbone with his tongue. They twine together on the sofa cushions, unwilling to part. It’s a little strange, ‘cause America’s never been that interested in sex before this. Not on such a regular basis, not so greedily.
(Not with his brother, and man, there is something wrong with him and he doesn’t give a shit.)
They forget about the tape until a loud shriek startles them-America has Canada’s fingers in his mouth, sucking them until he feels dizzy, and nearly bites down in surprise. Then he realizes it’s just the porn, and Canada laughs a little breathlessly, and they both scramble for the remote at the same time. America gets it first, mostly because one of Canada’s hands is still occupied (obviously), and kills the television.
“'orree,” he mumbles around Canada’s fingers.
“Next time,” Canada tells him, “invite me over for it, eh?”
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