Sleepover 3/3
anonymous
April 12 2010, 13:45:43 UTC
"And not fat," said England, even as he slid his hands under her top and cupped her breasts, warm and heavy in his hands, and America felt such a rush of feeling that she stuck her hand down his pants and said, "I love you," at the same time.
"America," said England again, and bucked up into her hand, burning hot, and then very firmly dragged her hand out of his pants and said "Don't be so impatient, girl."
America pouted and he kissed her, more gently this time, sweet and soft and slow, so distracting that he was easing her shorts off without her noticing until he stroked her, just as softly and she was so wet that it was easy, and she broke it off to gasp and said at the same time, "I've never-oh."
England had the sense not to say, really?, but America tried to hit him anyway when he muttered something about giving praise to puritans.
"I love you too," he offered her, and slid his fingers into her at the same time.
"We really do think alike," said America, soft and wondering while his fingers were in her and she felt like she could melt right against him and buck against him at the same time, and he laughed into her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth and then she did, and coming was really different when it was someone else, someone there to hold onto, while the world went briefly to pieces and was put back slightly better than it had been before.
"Well, I feel like a dirty old man," said England to her, his fingers still moving in her as she convulsed around him, and God, she was so tight and hot and wet and beautiful and she'd never- and she loved-
"You are a dirty old man," said America, and to blunt the sting of that once again went for his pants, and this time he let her, her mouth on his shoulder as she wrapped her hand around him and blushed further to do it.
"The heroine should be on top," she told him, and pushed him down (his fingers came out of her with sort of squelch and they both shivered) and took off his pants and stroked him more, so that he closed his eyes and moaned and she could put him in her without him looking and making her shy.
It was easier than she thought it would be, but different, and fingers didn't compare at all, at all, not even England's fingers, and it hurt a little but England's eyes had flown open when she started and he had his hand between her legs again, touching her clit and it was very distracting, and she told him so.
"Is that a complaint?" said England, who was going into her bit by bit and sounded like butter wouldn't melt his mouth (bastard!) even though he was straining with effort of not rushing her, of letting it be all her way, and she didn't know why they'd never, why she hadn't just jumped him before, but she knew why she'd always wanted it to be him.
"No," she said, and braced herself on his chest- holding him down- and pulled herself nearly all the way off him- good, it was so good- and then slammed back down and his hips went right off the bed into her with a curse, and all banter flew right out of her head and she just kissed him and they moved against each other, with each other and she came again and he rolled them over, still fucking her, hands in her hair and swallowing her cries and he said her name again when he came, buried deep inside her and America might have cried a little but no one could prove it and he did stroke her hair, cuddled up against him for cold.
Re: Sleepover 3/3
anonymous
April 12 2010, 20:23:36 UTC
Oh my fucking god. :D I almost didn't click on this because I'm not fond of genderbends, but it was America, so I had to check it out. And damn am I glad, because this may be the most in character thing I've read for these two in ages. Every bit of dialogue was just perfect, and I'm too lazy to quote it any back, because then I'd have to quote it all back. :O
Good lord. I especially loved the perverted old man / heroine comments, because the scene wouldn't have been complete without them. And I think your on to something here, anon; any couple with this much UST should definitely say that first "I love you" with their hands down each other's pants. A++
As an American of English descent, I approve of their horror at French lingerie. Okay, not really, but I would if France had picked it out, anyway.
Re: Sleepover 3/3
anonymous
May 10 2010, 15:48:59 UTC
I absolutely LOVED how the fill pans over England and all the things about him that make him so England (and so sexy because of that). There are definitely too many fills on this meme that pass over his great potential to focus on America (or whoever else his partner may be). The line about him going for tea with bombs falling around him was my favourite -- I could just see the scene, him standing on a road in his scuffed uniform, the world around him exploding and his face just perfectly calm, hand in pocket. I- I think I swooned. *A* (Arrrrgh I wish my artistic ability was better so I could draw that oh-so-lovely image *sigh*)
"America," said England again, and bucked up into her hand, burning hot, and then very firmly dragged her hand out of his pants and said "Don't be so impatient, girl."
America pouted and he kissed her, more gently this time, sweet and soft and slow, so distracting that he was easing her shorts off without her noticing until he stroked her, just as softly and she was so wet that it was easy, and she broke it off to gasp and said at the same time, "I've never-oh."
England had the sense not to say, really?, but America tried to hit him anyway when he muttered something about giving praise to puritans.
"I love you too," he offered her, and slid his fingers into her at the same time.
"We really do think alike," said America, soft and wondering while his fingers were in her and she felt like she could melt right against him and buck against him at the same time, and he laughed into her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth and then she did, and coming was really different when it was someone else, someone there to hold onto, while the world went briefly to pieces and was put back slightly better than it had been before.
"Well, I feel like a dirty old man," said England to her, his fingers still moving in her as she convulsed around him, and God, she was so tight and hot and wet and beautiful and she'd never- and she loved-
"You are a dirty old man," said America, and to blunt the sting of that once again went for his pants, and this time he let her, her mouth on his shoulder as she wrapped her hand around him and blushed further to do it.
"The heroine should be on top," she told him, and pushed him down (his fingers came out of her with sort of squelch and they both shivered) and took off his pants and stroked him more, so that he closed his eyes and moaned and she could put him in her without him looking and making her shy.
It was easier than she thought it would be, but different, and fingers didn't compare at all, at all, not even England's fingers, and it hurt a little but England's eyes had flown open when she started and he had his hand between her legs again, touching her clit and it was very distracting, and she told him so.
"Is that a complaint?" said England, who was going into her bit by bit and sounded like butter wouldn't melt his mouth (bastard!) even though he was straining with effort of not rushing her, of letting it be all her way, and she didn't know why they'd never, why she hadn't just jumped him before, but she knew why she'd always wanted it to be him.
"No," she said, and braced herself on his chest- holding him down- and pulled herself nearly all the way off him- good, it was so good- and then slammed back down and his hips went right off the bed into her with a curse, and all banter flew right out of her head and she just kissed him and they moved against each other, with each other and she came again and he rolled them over, still fucking her, hands in her hair and swallowing her cries and he said her name again when he came, buried deep inside her and America might have cried a little but no one could prove it and he did stroke her hair, cuddled up against him for cold.
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Good lord. I especially loved the perverted old man / heroine comments, because the scene wouldn't have been complete without them. And I think your on to something here, anon; any couple with this much UST should definitely say that first "I love you" with their hands down each other's pants. A++
As an American of English descent, I approve of their horror at French lingerie. Okay, not really, but I would if France had picked it out, anyway.
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That was really good. I love Fem!America to bits!! Much props to you, anon.
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But... wow. Thank you, sooo much. IC, yet... genderbent. *marvels*
But... just... Damn, was that hot.
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Someone build me a bunk. I need one.
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Thank you so much for this wonderful fill!
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