Brilliant, Really - 1/4
anonymous
June 9 2010, 04:55:52 UTC
(haha, I hope you don't mind England getting pounded into the wall as well as the mattress.)
Contrary to all popular opinion, America - in his own opinion, anyway - was not an insensitive jackass. He happened to like England all flustered and spluttery (so much fun to sneak in for a kiss and watch England's insatiable sexual appetite war with his desire to appear properly affronted), so he persisted in insulting England's clothes and his metric system and his tea, while at the same time ironing his shirts for him when he ran late in the morning and making sure he always had the good kind of Earl Grey whenever England came over. He also happened to like England in one piece, which is why England always topped, because it was easier for America to keep ahold of his strength that way, leaving more of his scarce brainpower for the important things, like taking in every precious second of England's face twisted up with pleasure.
America bit his lip a little at the thought, and mentally double-checked that they had enough lube, because fucked if he wasn't jumping on England as soon as he got home. He stirred the soup thoughtfully. Well, maybe right after dinner.
"I even cook food that's not burgers for him, okay?" he lectured the wooden spoon, "I am sensitive as shit." He wasn't quite sure that warming up soup from a can counted as properly cooking it, but wasn't it supposed to be the thought that counted, anyway? "Dude," he defended himself to the spoon, wretched skeptic that it was, "hot dinner, okay? Don't judge. I would make a kickass 50's housewife, you know it. All 'darling, how was your day at the office while I dusted the curtains for the fifth time this week?' and shit."
"Only if you wear pumps and an apron for me," commented England drily from the door, and America shrieked and jumped, accidentally flicking a bit of soup onto the lamp. He didn't even bother trying to hide his apron - mercifully, England passed over it with nothing but a raised eyebrow. "Also, is that soup?"
"Minestrone," said America, once he was sure he wasn't about to have a heart attack. Could nations even have heart attacks?
"Excellent." England twisted around to kiss him in passing, and America felt a tingling of heat in his stomach that urged him to leave the damn soup and drag England upstairs right away - or not bother with upstairs and just fuck on the table; the plates were totally expendable - but contented himself with biting briefly at England's lip and stealing a half-hug with the hand not holding the spoon. "Mmm." England pulled away to dig out cutlery. "Food, then sex, you beast."
America made a wounded face and held out his hand for the ladle.
The soup was hot and rich, and even though the only bread he could dig up was hamburger buns America felt he had acquitted himself respectably.
"Well, Parliament are being right idiots, as usual," groused England. "Sometimes I long for a monarchy."
"You have a monarchy," said America, and England flicked a sesame seed at him, muttering something about useless constitutional limitations on royal power and the incompetence of his ministers, and America laughed and took another bite of soup. "S'why y' need a pres'dent," he said with his mouth full, and England rolled his eyes. "Then again," America admitted, swallowing, "senators aren't really much better, are they?"
But he listened to England rant about his government, because America was cultivating sensitivity so England would spend less time calling him the boorish spawn of a London street-whore and more time fucking him blind. And he even cleared up the dishes and was actually about to start running water to wash them when England pushed him up against the fridge and hooked his fingers in America's tie, dragging his head down for a bruising kiss.
Re: Brilliant, Really - 2/4
anonymous
June 9 2010, 04:57:46 UTC
"Fuck, yeah, okay," gasped America, "dishes can wait." He grabbed England with one forearm under his ass and the other arm around his shoulders, ignoring his protests, and narrowly avoided smashing England's head against the ceiling as he hauled him up the stairs, barely thinking logically enough to pull England down on top of him on the bed, instead of crushing him.
England shuddered above him and started tearing at his clothes, pulling off America's layers of tie and uniform and shirt with an impatient growl until he got to skin. "...too damn hot when you're being all superpower on me, Christ, America, want you to hold me down, want you to fuck me till I can't stand up, please - "
"England, I - " America swallowed, breathed, tried to keep ahold of himself. "I'll hurt you."
England's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, and he paused in undoing his own shirt to twist his hips down - America writhed and gasped - and glare. "You think I'm delicate?" he sneered, "you think I can't take it?"
"No, but I'm really strong; what if I - "
"I survived fifteen hundred years of European wars before you were ever born," England snarled, fierce and proud and gorgeous on top of him, "do your bloody worst," and America snapped, flipping them over and attacking England's mouth with his, grinding him down into the mattress. He hauled both England's hands above his head with one of his, using the other to tear his pants off and toss them across the room, baring his teeth at England's helpless moan and sinking them into his newly-exposed hip, sucking a deep bruise into pale skin scattered with the scars of a hundred wars.
"You have no idea," America panted, inbetween bites "how long I've - a-aaaah yeah - I've wanted to do this to you. Goddamn - sexy - bastard," and he wriggled out of his own pants and grabbed for the lube.
England sucked in a sharp breath when America pushed two slick fingers into him at once and twisted. "You don't - ah! - don't play around, do yo - oh, oh, god, there - " his voice cut off with a gasp. America laughed delightedly and added another finger, in and out, in and out, merciless, until England was writhing against America's hand pinning his wrists to the pillows, choked-off fragments of profanity tumbling out of his mouth. America pulled his fingers out to grope around for a condom and more lube and England squinted up at him, no doubt readying some cutting remark until America leaned over and kissed it right out of his mouth as he gave England his cock instead. England jerked and shivered underneath him, and bit down hard on America's lip, smearing blood between their mouths.
"Feisty," said America, winking. England shuddered and hitched his hips up into America, who bent down to lay a gentle kiss on his cheek (leaving a dark smudge of blood) and brush England's hair back from his face.
"America," gasped England desperately, and America grinned and started thrusting into him, slow and deep, because oh god, the noises England made, shaky and needy and just on the edge of frustrated because it wasn't quite enough, but America bent to kiss over his neck and leave scattered bite marks whenever England pushed into his mouth, pushing England's wrists down harder into the pillows to hear him gasp at the pressure.
And then America started fucking him in earnest, fast and punishing, letting go of England's hands to grab him by the hips and pull him onto his dick, as though he could somehow get deeper, more, fingers digging into the bruises he'd left earlier. When he figured out that England writhed and swore when he pressed down on them, he dug into the biggest one with his fingernails and watched England squirm frantically and clench his eyes shut. As soon as England pulled one hand down from above his head to curl it around his cock he came almost instantly, turning his face to bite into the pillow. His muscles spasmed impossibly tight around America, who dragged England back onto his cock one more time and fell half onto him in orgasm, riding the wave of fuckfucktoomuch buried deep in England's body.
Re: Brilliant, Really - 3/4
anonymous
June 9 2010, 04:59:02 UTC
America giggled, only a little hysterically. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet." He could feel himself already starting to get hard again. "Speaking of going 'all superpower on you'..."
"Good lord," England said again.
"Hell yes, you mean." America bent to kiss him again, teasing his mouth open until England was soft and pliant underneath him, stroking over America's back with little humms of pleasure. "Mmmkay sweetheart, hold on."
"What - America!" England yelped, as America picked him up, lifted him off the bed and carried him across the room. "What are you doing?"
"Fucking you up against a wall." America pressed England back against the wall, eyes sweeping over the scattered bite marks on England's throat and chest with a thril of possessive pleasure. "Objections?"
England moaned like he couldn't decide if he was feeling pleasure or pain and let his head fall forwards, clinging to America as he started moving again. "Ow, ow."
"Stop?"
"No, d-damnit, don't - don't stop, ow, ohfuck -" England dug his nails into America's back. His breathing came in labored gasps. "Ah-aaaaah, fuckdamnit please."
America's breath stuck in his throat - goddamn England was beautiful when he begged, broken like this - and with a helpless groan he started pounding into him again, slamming England's back against the wall, reveling in his own strength that he could manhandle his lover like this. England's legs faltered around his waist, so America spun him around to face the wall, holding him up by his upper arms and kicking his legs open to fuck him ruthlessly as England's moans turned into screams, and America hadn't even known England could make those noises, those filthy, abandoned cries as America held him up against the wall and used him.
"Fuck," he panted. "Fuckfuckfuck - "
"Yes, America," England managed from beneath him, "We're fucking. Were you - ah, ohgod - unclear on that or - "
"God - you -" gasped America, and sank his teeth into England's shoulder, bit until he tasted blood and dragged his tongue up England's neck to his ear, leaving a stark red trail along his skin. His orgasm hit him by surprise as he bit down into the wound again, tearing another scream out of England's throat and glorying in the tang of blood on his tongue, barely able to hold himself upright through the wash of pleasure.
"Mmm, yeah," America slurred. He shook his head, trying to scatter the orgasm-haze but he was still erect, still wanting, so he spun England around, pulling out of him just long enough to rub a little more lube onto his cock before he threw him face-first across the bed and pushed back inside, one hand holding his hips up and the other tangled through his hair, yanking back his head to hear his whimpers. And England was hard again, rubbing himself against the bed, so America let go of his hair to wrap his hand around England instead, and hummed in satisfaction at his grateful moan.
England jerked his hips down into America's hand with no rhythm or grace while America kept pounding into him with long, merciless strokes until he came again, shuddering through it bent over England's back. "I - ah, A-America, can - oh - can you - "
"Yeah," and between breaths America pulled himself out of England and flipped England over onto his back, spreading his legs again and pressing three fingers into him all at once, and England squeaked desperately and came, curling around himself.
Re: Brilliant, Really - 4/4
anonymous
June 9 2010, 05:00:48 UTC
They lay together, their breathing ragged in the silence.
"Oh, my god," America broke the silence, "that was so fucking awesome."
England raised an eyebrow.
"Wait." America reached out a tentative hand, staring at the bleeding mess that was England's face. "Shit, did I break your nose? When did that happen?"
"Wall," said England.
America winced and hauled himself up to grab the first aid kit.
*
America woke up wrapped around England - the way he did now, the way he loved doing - and stared blankly at the bandage on England's shoulder for a full minute before he remembered the night before. He leaned over and peered at England's face (one black eye, swollen nose, a trickle of blood trailing down his chin from a reopened cut on his lip). Well, he did say he could take it...
England shifted beside him and groaned.
"Morning sex?" America offered cheekily, "Since you're such a warrior and all..." The back of England's hand collided with his face. He supposed he deserved that.
England batted him away irritably (England was always irritable in the mornings. And all other times of day. Even when America was fucking him into the wall, apparently.) when America tried to help him in the shower, so instead America dug out England's softest shirt and lightest sweater vest, to be the most gentle on his raw skin, and ironed the shirt for him while the water was boiling for his tea. He bit his lip as he heard England's slow, pained footsteps on the stairs, hoping against hope that he didn't think America was some kind of horrible, uncontrolled barbarian now. Please don't hate me.
"You know," remarked England as he accepted his tea, "it's not that I don't appreciate a good, rough shag. Brilliant, really. But could we maybe keep it to one round next time?"
America could feel a stupid grin stretching his face. "Yeah," he said, beaming across the table, "okay. We can do that."
Re: Brilliant, Really - 4/4
anonymous
June 9 2010, 06:16:10 UTC
XD god this was awesome poor guy...Im not sure which though England for the injures to his pride or America who has to keep himself in line all the time.
Re: Brilliant, Really - 4/4
anonymous
June 9 2010, 09:33:54 UTC
I loved it! And I must say - you write smut really good. But I liked the stuff before the smut even better. The way you described America (who isn't a jerk, people tend to forget that when he's in a relationship, I love you for that! =u=), and the way he talked to the spoon. And all the stuff he did. Of course he would walk around helping Arthur out - he can't be the housewife all the time, he's a nation on his own as well. It was cute and adoreable!
This is most definately going to my favourites. I wish this was FF.net so that I could add it there as well, for this will be re-read. Especially for the deliscious beginning - I'll have to learn how you write that way.
Re: Brilliant, Really - 4/4
anonymous
June 9 2010, 16:18:17 UTC
I think the fact that I was compelled immediately to go to the pimp post and pimp the fuck out of this before I could even comment coherently says how I feel about this.
I am so in love with your characterization. Seriously! I love the softer side to America, while still being so him. It's funny, hot and I think I love you...in a readerly sort of way.
Dear anon, have thee any more fills? It would be in my interest to read them.
Contrary to all popular opinion, America - in his own opinion, anyway - was not an insensitive jackass. He happened to like England all flustered and spluttery (so much fun to sneak in for a kiss and watch England's insatiable sexual appetite war with his desire to appear properly affronted), so he persisted in insulting England's clothes and his metric system and his tea, while at the same time ironing his shirts for him when he ran late in the morning and making sure he always had the good kind of Earl Grey whenever England came over. He also happened to like England in one piece, which is why England always topped, because it was easier for America to keep ahold of his strength that way, leaving more of his scarce brainpower for the important things, like taking in every precious second of England's face twisted up with pleasure.
America bit his lip a little at the thought, and mentally double-checked that they had enough lube, because fucked if he wasn't jumping on England as soon as he got home. He stirred the soup thoughtfully. Well, maybe right after dinner.
"I even cook food that's not burgers for him, okay?" he lectured the wooden spoon, "I am sensitive as shit." He wasn't quite sure that warming up soup from a can counted as properly cooking it, but wasn't it supposed to be the thought that counted, anyway? "Dude," he defended himself to the spoon, wretched skeptic that it was, "hot dinner, okay? Don't judge. I would make a kickass 50's housewife, you know it. All 'darling, how was your day at the office while I dusted the curtains for the fifth time this week?' and shit."
"Only if you wear pumps and an apron for me," commented England drily from the door, and America shrieked and jumped, accidentally flicking a bit of soup onto the lamp. He didn't even bother trying to hide his apron - mercifully, England passed over it with nothing but a raised eyebrow. "Also, is that soup?"
"Minestrone," said America, once he was sure he wasn't about to have a heart attack. Could nations even have heart attacks?
"Excellent." England twisted around to kiss him in passing, and America felt a tingling of heat in his stomach that urged him to leave the damn soup and drag England upstairs right away - or not bother with upstairs and just fuck on the table; the plates were totally expendable - but contented himself with biting briefly at England's lip and stealing a half-hug with the hand not holding the spoon. "Mmm." England pulled away to dig out cutlery. "Food, then sex, you beast."
America made a wounded face and held out his hand for the ladle.
The soup was hot and rich, and even though the only bread he could dig up was hamburger buns America felt he had acquitted himself respectably.
"Well, Parliament are being right idiots, as usual," groused England. "Sometimes I long for a monarchy."
"You have a monarchy," said America, and England flicked a sesame seed at him, muttering something about useless constitutional limitations on royal power and the incompetence of his ministers, and America laughed and took another bite of soup. "S'why y' need a pres'dent," he said with his mouth full, and England rolled his eyes. "Then again," America admitted, swallowing, "senators aren't really much better, are they?"
But he listened to England rant about his government, because America was cultivating sensitivity so England would spend less time calling him the boorish spawn of a London street-whore and more time fucking him blind. And he even cleared up the dishes and was actually about to start running water to wash them when England pushed him up against the fridge and hooked his fingers in America's tie, dragging his head down for a bruising kiss.
Reply
England shuddered above him and started tearing at his clothes, pulling off America's layers of tie and uniform and shirt with an impatient growl until he got to skin. "...too damn hot when you're being all superpower on me, Christ, America, want you to hold me down, want you to fuck me till I can't stand up, please - "
"England, I - " America swallowed, breathed, tried to keep ahold of himself. "I'll hurt you."
England's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, and he paused in undoing his own shirt to twist his hips down - America writhed and gasped - and glare. "You think I'm delicate?" he sneered, "you think I can't take it?"
"No, but I'm really strong; what if I - "
"I survived fifteen hundred years of European wars before you were ever born," England snarled, fierce and proud and gorgeous on top of him, "do your bloody worst," and America snapped, flipping them over and attacking England's mouth with his, grinding him down into the mattress. He hauled both England's hands above his head with one of his, using the other to tear his pants off and toss them across the room, baring his teeth at England's helpless moan and sinking them into his newly-exposed hip, sucking a deep bruise into pale skin scattered with the scars of a hundred wars.
"You have no idea," America panted, inbetween bites "how long I've - a-aaaah yeah - I've wanted to do this to you. Goddamn - sexy - bastard," and he wriggled out of his own pants and grabbed for the lube.
England sucked in a sharp breath when America pushed two slick fingers into him at once and twisted. "You don't - ah! - don't play around, do yo - oh, oh, god, there - " his voice cut off with a gasp. America laughed delightedly and added another finger, in and out, in and out, merciless, until England was writhing against America's hand pinning his wrists to the pillows, choked-off fragments of profanity tumbling out of his mouth. America pulled his fingers out to grope around for a condom and more lube and England squinted up at him, no doubt readying some cutting remark until America leaned over and kissed it right out of his mouth as he gave England his cock instead. England jerked and shivered underneath him, and bit down hard on America's lip, smearing blood between their mouths.
"Feisty," said America, winking. England shuddered and hitched his hips up into America, who bent down to lay a gentle kiss on his cheek (leaving a dark smudge of blood) and brush England's hair back from his face.
"America," gasped England desperately, and America grinned and started thrusting into him, slow and deep, because oh god, the noises England made, shaky and needy and just on the edge of frustrated because it wasn't quite enough, but America bent to kiss over his neck and leave scattered bite marks whenever England pushed into his mouth, pushing England's wrists down harder into the pillows to hear him gasp at the pressure.
And then America started fucking him in earnest, fast and punishing, letting go of England's hands to grab him by the hips and pull him onto his dick, as though he could somehow get deeper, more, fingers digging into the bruises he'd left earlier. When he figured out that England writhed and swore when he pressed down on them, he dug into the biggest one with his fingernails and watched England squirm frantically and clench his eyes shut. As soon as England pulled one hand down from above his head to curl it around his cock he came almost instantly, turning his face to bite into the pillow. His muscles spasmed impossibly tight around America, who dragged England back onto his cock one more time and fell half onto him in orgasm, riding the wave of fuckfucktoomuch buried deep in England's body.
"Good lord," England said.
Reply
"Good lord," England said again.
"Hell yes, you mean." America bent to kiss him again, teasing his mouth open until England was soft and pliant underneath him, stroking over America's back with little humms of pleasure. "Mmmkay sweetheart, hold on."
"What - America!" England yelped, as America picked him up, lifted him off the bed and carried him across the room. "What are you doing?"
"Fucking you up against a wall." America pressed England back against the wall, eyes sweeping over the scattered bite marks on England's throat and chest with a thril of possessive pleasure. "Objections?"
England moaned like he couldn't decide if he was feeling pleasure or pain and let his head fall forwards, clinging to America as he started moving again. "Ow, ow."
"Stop?"
"No, d-damnit, don't - don't stop, ow, ohfuck -" England dug his nails into America's back. His breathing came in labored gasps. "Ah-aaaaah, fuckdamnit please."
America's breath stuck in his throat - goddamn England was beautiful when he begged, broken like this - and with a helpless groan he started pounding into him again, slamming England's back against the wall, reveling in his own strength that he could manhandle his lover like this. England's legs faltered around his waist, so America spun him around to face the wall, holding him up by his upper arms and kicking his legs open to fuck him ruthlessly as England's moans turned into screams, and America hadn't even known England could make those noises, those filthy, abandoned cries as America held him up against the wall and used him.
"Fuck," he panted. "Fuckfuckfuck - "
"Yes, America," England managed from beneath him, "We're fucking. Were you - ah, ohgod - unclear on that or - "
"God - you -" gasped America, and sank his teeth into England's shoulder, bit until he tasted blood and dragged his tongue up England's neck to his ear, leaving a stark red trail along his skin. His orgasm hit him by surprise as he bit down into the wound again, tearing another scream out of England's throat and glorying in the tang of blood on his tongue, barely able to hold himself upright through the wash of pleasure.
"Mmm, yeah," America slurred. He shook his head, trying to scatter the orgasm-haze but he was still erect, still wanting, so he spun England around, pulling out of him just long enough to rub a little more lube onto his cock before he threw him face-first across the bed and pushed back inside, one hand holding his hips up and the other tangled through his hair, yanking back his head to hear his whimpers. And England was hard again, rubbing himself against the bed, so America let go of his hair to wrap his hand around England instead, and hummed in satisfaction at his grateful moan.
England jerked his hips down into America's hand with no rhythm or grace while America kept pounding into him with long, merciless strokes until he came again, shuddering through it bent over England's back. "I - ah, A-America, can - oh - can you - "
"Yeah," and between breaths America pulled himself out of England and flipped England over onto his back, spreading his legs again and pressing three fingers into him all at once, and England squeaked desperately and came, curling around himself.
Reply
"Oh, my god," America broke the silence, "that was so fucking awesome."
England raised an eyebrow.
"Wait." America reached out a tentative hand, staring at the bleeding mess that was England's face. "Shit, did I break your nose? When did that happen?"
"Wall," said England.
America winced and hauled himself up to grab the first aid kit.
*
America woke up wrapped around England - the way he did now, the way he loved doing - and stared blankly at the bandage on England's shoulder for a full minute before he remembered the night before. He leaned over and peered at England's face (one black eye, swollen nose, a trickle of blood trailing down his chin from a reopened cut on his lip). Well, he did say he could take it...
England shifted beside him and groaned.
"Morning sex?" America offered cheekily, "Since you're such a warrior and all..." The back of England's hand collided with his face. He supposed he deserved that.
England batted him away irritably (England was always irritable in the mornings. And all other times of day. Even when America was fucking him into the wall, apparently.) when America tried to help him in the shower, so instead America dug out England's softest shirt and lightest sweater vest, to be the most gentle on his raw skin, and ironed the shirt for him while the water was boiling for his tea. He bit his lip as he heard England's slow, pained footsteps on the stairs, hoping against hope that he didn't think America was some kind of horrible, uncontrolled barbarian now. Please don't hate me.
"You know," remarked England as he accepted his tea, "it's not that I don't appreciate a good, rough shag. Brilliant, really. But could we maybe keep it to one round next time?"
America could feel a stupid grin stretching his face. "Yeah," he said, beaming across the table, "okay. We can do that."
Reply
Reply
*standing ovation*
ENCORE! :D
(Just kidding... or am I?)
Reply
Reply
Reply
This is most definately going to my favourites. I wish this was FF.net so that I could add it there as well, for this will be re-read. Especially for the deliscious beginning - I'll have to learn how you write that way.
Reply
Liebling.
Mein Gott!
Okay. My English escaped me for a moment.
So. You. Me. Bed. ...Now?
This was so goddamn perfect and...guh. I want to worship you. Repeatedly.
I loved your America! He is so such a cute sex machine! *sighs*
Okay, I may have to come back later, when I wiped my brain off the floor, to leave you a coherent reply.
For now, simply:
Thank you!
Danke sehr!
Reply
Reply
Reply
I am so in love with your characterization. Seriously! I love the softer side to America, while still being so him. It's funny, hot and I think I love you...in a readerly sort of way.
Dear anon, have thee any more fills? It would be in my interest to read them.
Reply
I'm glad you enjoyed it! America is my favorite of the Hetalia cast to write; he's just such a dork.
I do have other fills:
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/13943.html?thread=36076407 - Poland/Lithuania, giggling after sex
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/13943.html?thread=36104055 - US->UK<-France double penetration (lol poor England. His ass must hate me.)
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/13943.html?thread=36326263 - US/UK, with America being worried that leaving bruises on England is unheroic.
Come to think of it, this is the first time I've done country names. Heh.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment