Re: Of Politics and Unlocked Doors: Part 1
anonymous
May 23 2010, 20:27:46 UTC
They walked in on their country splayed across a desk on his stomach, being mounted rather enthusiastically by a larger blond man. Clothes littered the floor amongst abandoned documents. As they stood there, scandalized and flabbergasted (that was not how one used a desk!), one of the writhing persons finally noticed their presence and halted with a jolt. Immediately, the other stopped as well and four eyes trained on the newcomers like deer caught in the headlights of a van. Twin yelps of surprise were heard as a realization was reached.
“Oh! Erm… Hello, gentlemen!” England was sporting a prominent blush, as was reasonable for a man caught literally with his pants down (Off, rather. Hanging over the lampshade, in fact.). The other man, pale-faced, seemed to be stuttering without really saying anything. They unconsciously scootched forward to obscure their genitals from the intruding party. That had the unfortunate consequence of causing England to moan, his partner having inadvertently sunk in farther.
The MPs were frozen in place. Grey consoled his mind that this must just be a crazy dream brought on by eating too much before bed and that any moment he would wake up, curse groggily at his alarm, shower, and get ready to go to his job where people never copulated on furniture! Whitby said nothing, and in fact appeared to have gone comatose still standing up.
Clearly this had happened some times before, for, instead of yelling or throwing things at them as expected, England simply turned his head down to stare at the desktop before sighing and addressing them in a calm manner.
“Would you mind waiting outside as we compose ourselves?” The man behind him turned away too, his face red, adding a mumbled “fuck” under his breath.
Stricken dumb by the situation, it took a moment for Grey to shakily nod and pull the other out by the arm, closing the door firmly behind them. From the other side, they heard a shrill whine of, “You mean we don’t even get to finish!?” This was followed by a thud and a grunt of pain. The accent wasn’t English, or any British dialect for that matter, but the trifle went unnoticed in the midst of the Bigger Issue.
Plastered to the door, their eyes wide as saucers, they stared straight ahead. Unsettling images of their recent discovery played through their minds to the soundtrack of rustling clothes, thumps, and soft curses coming from inside the room.
They passed their expulsion from the office in uncomfortable silence, Whitby gaping like a fish and Grey trying to comprehend what they had unwittingly witnessed.
Their country, England-the bloody United Kingdom-was just caught by them having sex in a government office. Gay sex. Well… It wasn’t that bad. Nothing wrong with homosexuality really… Wait-that wasn’t the issue here! Moreover, he was bottoming. Somehow that struck a blow to Grey’s pride, though he wasn’t sure why. Dammit! That’s not what he should be focusing on either!
One thing nipped at the back of his mind: who in the hell was his partner? Grey liked to think that England hadn’t invited a random stranger to fornicate with him in his office. Maybe it was one of his appointments? Well THAT was certainly an unorthodox method of greeting a visitor… He mentally crossed out “rentboy” out of confidence in his nation’s character.
Thinking back, there had been two (discarded) military uniforms. So he was a soldier? The imposter’s clothing had been a different color. Grey certainly didn’t go around memorizing service uniforms so he couldn’t guess as to what nationality or division to which it belonged. Was it possible he was another nation? There was something familiar about the man…
The MP wracked his brain but failed to place it. It was then that they heard the soft “come in”.
They re-entered the room. Before them was a slightly ruffled but fully dressed England. Behind him, nonchalantly leaning against the offending furniture, arms crossed at his chest, was America.
“Oh! Erm… Hello, gentlemen!” England was sporting a prominent blush, as was reasonable for a man caught literally with his pants down (Off, rather. Hanging over the lampshade, in fact.). The other man, pale-faced, seemed to be stuttering without really saying anything. They unconsciously scootched forward to obscure their genitals from the intruding party. That had the unfortunate consequence of causing England to moan, his partner having inadvertently sunk in farther.
The MPs were frozen in place. Grey consoled his mind that this must just be a crazy dream brought on by eating too much before bed and that any moment he would wake up, curse groggily at his alarm, shower, and get ready to go to his job where people never copulated on furniture! Whitby said nothing, and in fact appeared to have gone comatose still standing up.
Clearly this had happened some times before, for, instead of yelling or throwing things at them as expected, England simply turned his head down to stare at the desktop before sighing and addressing them in a calm manner.
“Would you mind waiting outside as we compose ourselves?” The man behind him turned away too, his face red, adding a mumbled “fuck” under his breath.
Stricken dumb by the situation, it took a moment for Grey to shakily nod and pull the other out by the arm, closing the door firmly behind them. From the other side, they heard a shrill whine of, “You mean we don’t even get to finish!?” This was followed by a thud and a grunt of pain. The accent wasn’t English, or any British dialect for that matter, but the trifle went unnoticed in the midst of the Bigger Issue.
Plastered to the door, their eyes wide as saucers, they stared straight ahead. Unsettling images of their recent discovery played through their minds to the soundtrack of rustling clothes, thumps, and soft curses coming from inside the room.
They passed their expulsion from the office in uncomfortable silence, Whitby gaping like a fish and Grey trying to comprehend what they had unwittingly witnessed.
Their country, England-the bloody United Kingdom-was just caught by them having sex in a government office. Gay sex. Well… It wasn’t that bad. Nothing wrong with homosexuality really… Wait-that wasn’t the issue here! Moreover, he was bottoming. Somehow that struck a blow to Grey’s pride, though he wasn’t sure why. Dammit! That’s not what he should be focusing on either!
One thing nipped at the back of his mind: who in the hell was his partner? Grey liked to think that England hadn’t invited a random stranger to fornicate with him in his office. Maybe it was one of his appointments? Well THAT was certainly an unorthodox method of greeting a visitor… He mentally crossed out “rentboy” out of confidence in his nation’s character.
Thinking back, there had been two (discarded) military uniforms. So he was a soldier? The imposter’s clothing had been a different color. Grey certainly didn’t go around memorizing service uniforms so he couldn’t guess as to what nationality or division to which it belonged. Was it possible he was another nation? There was something familiar about the man…
The MP wracked his brain but failed to place it. It was then that they heard the soft “come in”.
They re-entered the room. Before them was a slightly ruffled but fully dressed England. Behind him, nonchalantly leaning against the offending furniture, arms crossed at his chest, was America.
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