Basically, I took the picture, the third bonus, and just kind of...ran away with it. Sorry OP. I was originally going to post this in 2 parts- pre-smut and smut- but it was short enough that it just ended up being a oneshot. The second half of this is better, I swear.
Also, OP never answered the whole UKUS vs USUK thing before it maxed out, so I just went with what you wrote in the subject line. Also, I like England topping. XD
This is the first real fanfic I've ever finished, much less posted, so if you see any mistakes or have any concrit, kindly point them out please!
*~*
Japan crept through the bushes, moving carefully to avoid making any noise. To make noise was to get caught, which would be a dim move in and of itself, but to get caught spying while in the midst of a war, well- that would be the height of foolishness.
The practice grounds weren’t empty, but it was immediately obvious that his targets weren’t there, so Japan continued creeping around the premises. He got lucky when he came alongside one of the buildings and heard familiar voices coming from one of the windows near the tree. After confirming his solitude, he scaled the tree as quickly as possible (which still took much too long; he wasn’t as spry as he used to be). He spent only a moment eyeing the branch nearest the window before deeming it sufficiently leafy and sturdy enough to hold his weight and hide him from view.
After carefully arranging himself on the branch, he looked from his spot into the room. The window was slightly open, which was more than enough to allow the occupants’ voices to be heard clearly. Though he had arrived in the middle of their conversation, he managed to glean their intentions to test America's strength via...push-ups? This seemed to be a rather odd way to test one’s strength, but the results should give Japan exactly what he came for: intelligence on how strong America was and his role in the war.
The room he was peering into appeared to be dedicated to indoor exercise, with mats and weights and bars strewn about the floor. England and America were standing near a ratty blue mat discussing the details of the test. The rest of the Allies were nowhere to be seen.
Inside, England nodded his head, and this appeared to be the signal to start. He watched America remove his shirt and move into position, and England was moving as well-
Japan could hardly believe his eyes.
America was doing push-ups with England sitting on his back. And he was moving fast. Up, down, up, down, 33, 34, 35... England's voice was coming through the window with the regularity of a- what were those musical timers called? Ah, yes, metronomes- and showed no signs of slowing down.
From his position, he could see the scars that littered America's arms and shoulders, though they were far fewer than his own (and doubtless England's as well). England, he thought, looked much too comfortable on America's back.
Japan's mind finally cleared as he remembered he was supposed to be taking notes. He managed to note America's abundant arm strength before his ears tuned back to England's voice. What he heard froze his mind again.
"107, 108, 109..."
America had done over 100 push-ups with England on his back, and he showed no signs of exhaustion. The count was as steady as ever, though England's expression, still neutrally composed as it had been from the beginning, had acquire a slightly glazed sheen to it. America looked bored, as he had from the beginning.
The miles of skin and rippling muscles were beginning to warm Japan's insides, and he firmly suppressed the feeling. He couldn't get distracted now; Germany was already stressed enough with trying to keep the Italies in line. It would be unconscionable to add to his anxiety.
A Test of Strength [2/5]
anonymous
April 26 2010, 07:06:19 UTC
Japan's attention returned to the scene in front of him when he heard America speak.
"223, 224, 225..." England's eyes weren't quite half-lidded, but his face definitely bespoke boredom.
"How long has it been?"
England checked his watch. "Less than 5 minutes."
America scrunched his face in annoyance. "This is getting really boring."
"I agree."
"I wanna stop."
"Getting tired?"
"No, I'm bored. I wanna do something else." Japan blinked rapidly. Was his English failing him, or did he imagine the suggestiveness America had given that last word? The images that flashed through his mind brought back the warm feeling, and a flush was spreading out from his neck.
"Hn. Tell you what. Get to 500 and I'll give you a special reward, how's that?"
“ Hm." Up, down, up, down, up, down. "How many am I am at now?"
"272, 273, 274-"
"They should be more than happy with 500." 500? Japan's eyes nearly left their sockets.
"I'd imagine so."
The shiny metal tags around America's neck suddenly caught his attention. He could just barely make them out, and he thought he could just make out their rhythmic clinking as they hit the floor every time America lowered himself. Trivial, but it was a distraction from England's hypnotically even voice. 355, 356, 357... Japan's hands refused to let go of the branch long enough to continue taking notes. What was there to write about? America was freakishly strong, and his strength was likely to be reflected in his military. Japan had never liked second guessing himself, but...perhaps that attack wasn't the wisest course of action. The warning to stay out instead spurred him to join the war.
Briefly, he wondered where the other Allies were. If he understood the situation correctly, this display of strength was their idea that neither England nor America were too enthusiastic about. Wouldn't they want to witness it to confirm for themselves? As if to answer his question, the roar of tanks and airplanes fired up in the distance. Oh, Japan thought distantly, they're readying for an attack. Germany should know. France, Russia, and China will be attacking soon. He had his notepad pulled back in front of him when his eyes drifted back to the window and, to his astonishment, saw England petting America like a kitten.
No, not petting. England was threading his fingers through the other's hair, and oh- he could hear the raspy breaths of the blonde still going up, down, up, down, up, down. America was finally tiring at- what was the count? 442, 443, 444... They may be at war, but Japan couldn't help but feel awe at this young nation and his boundless strength. He himself was getting stronger, thanks to Germany's training, but his old limbs would never approach anything resembling what he was currently witnessing.
America's breathing was decidedly more ragged than it was a minute ago, and his pace, kept in time by a British accent, was definitely slower than it had been thus far. Japan released a breath he didn't know that he had been holding. It wasn't as if his fears that America was secretly some sort of superweapon robot or one of those superpowered people he had seen in America's- comic books, they were called- had been dispelled. He had no business entertaining such silly notions, however much these comics were a secret guilty pleasure of his (after the war, when he has some time, he wants to try his hand at making his own comics). He vaguely recalled a muscular man with a red cape who was capable of superhuman feats, and wondered how much of this character was modeled on America himself.
A Test of Strength [3/5]
anonymous
April 26 2010, 07:10:40 UTC
*~*
Inside the room, America collapsed with a whump as "500" left England's lips. England leaned over the other, a smirk playing around his lips. "Tired, are you?"
America languidly waved his hand, or tried to, as much as he could while being smooshed into the floor by England. "Just-" *pant* "-a little." *pant* "Can't remember the last time I did this many with someone sitting on my back."
"Just be glad it wasn't Russia." England pulled out a small notepad and a pen as he climbed off a briefly horrified America and stood up. "500 push-ups in 10 minutes with- aren't you getting up?"
"In a minute." America's breath continued to puff out over the mat that was laid out on the cement floor. He'd never admit it, but those 500 push-ups had only come about because England had promised him that reward. He probably would have stopped around 300, which the other Allies would have perfectly satisfied with, especially since England had sat on his back the entire time. At least France hadn't insisted on being the one to sit on him. He wouldn't have made it to 100 before flipping out over France's groping (most likely of his ass too. Only one person had permission to grope his ass, and that person was definitely not France.).
America was startled out of his reverie as hands swept across his (only slightly sticky!) back and down his arms. He bit down a moan as those hands started massaging his biceps (he would never admit that they were sore), eventually roving back to his shoulders. "Ngh, don't stop" America mumbled.
England leaned over until his breathe tickled the other's ear. "Would you like a full body massage? To relax and warm you up for your...reward? Or are you too tired for it?"
America had been shivering at the low, sultry voice, but at England's last question, an indignant look crossed his face momentarily before it settled into a smirk. With a quick yank, he somehow managed to flip them so that his dog tags were draped over the starched green uniform.
"I," America said pompously, "am never too tired for that." He leaned forward until their noses were touching, ignoring the ache in his arms and shoulders. "I want my reward," he breathed, nuzzling England.
England closed the distance between their faces and gently pressed their lips together. "And you'll get it..." he whispered against his lips. “ I just thought-" America landed on his back with a small oomph- “that you’d like to lay back and enjoy the ride, since you’re so tuckered out from your workout.”
America blinked bemusedly up at England, then let out a chuckle. "Well, then, ride 'em, cowboy."
England let out a groan at the word "cowboy" before crushing his lips to America's. "No more witty banter," he mumbled.
"Fine, fine," America muttered in response, though I like witty banter and the brief thought of superheroes flashed through his mind. Heroic capes and glowing silhouettes were driven from his mind as England's tongue invaded his mouth, leaving a trail of pure heat everywhere. He tasted of tea and burnt scones and the eggs that France had insisted on making for breakfast (which England had only eaten because he hadn't known that France had cooked them).
Doubtless he himself tasted of those eggs as well as coffee and bacon and all the other delicious breakfast foods that France had whipped up that England refused to touch. Really, how anyone could refuse food that- oh god, the gloved hand that had been sliding down his chest had just tweaked his nipple, and now England's hips were grinding into his now and the heat from all the places they were connected was going straight to his groin. America's mind lost all coherency as England's mouth began tracing a very wet path down his neck and to his chest.
A Test of Strength [4/6]
anonymous
April 26 2010, 07:15:12 UTC
*~*
Japan had no idea what possessed him to stay on the branch as long as he had when they were clearly finished inside. Perhaps it was the sight of those long, pale fingers buried in golden hair, or maybe he was still in shock from witnessing 500 amazing push-ups. There had been a period of time when he could have easily left, when things were still innocent and he could have left.
Now? Now he couldn't possibly move, despite every honorable instinct inside him screaming to leave and to give the lovers their privacy. The warm feeling had erupted into a melting hot mess inside, and he simply could not deny his curiosity (perverseness, be honest, you are a pervert). How would Western conjugal relations differ from those of the East?
Western foreplay appeared to be rather violent (to be fair, this may be just a quirk of England and America's relationship- those two have had a volatile relationship for as long as he'd known both of them). The two were flipping each other to the ground, apparently fighting for dominance. Then they started kissing in earnest and Japan's mind went utterly and completely blank.
*~*
England's gloves were godly, America decided. Absolutely godly, with what they were doing to his nipples. The feel of the leather scraping his skin went straight to his groin, and he arched his back, wanting more. His hands scrambled at England's back as he tried to gasp out Engl-, but then a hot mouth laved his nipple and his mind lost any coherency it had managed to recover. Every fiber of his being was centered on that wet, delicious heat.
America protested as England lifted his head, only to lose it to another moan as nimble fingers (it was all that knitting; his fingers were talented) undid his pants (trousers, he heard England say in his head), brushing teasingly at that spot right there god yes. His eyes opened when the sudden lack of hot breathe left his hipbone feeling cold, and he saw those nimble fingers, rather than fully exposing him, undoing the laces of his boots. He tried to sit up as his boots were tugged off, but England pushed him back down as his teeth pulled at the glove of his other hand.
The leather on his chest made his eyes cross again, and he managed to gasp out, "no- leave your gloves on."
England raised an eyebrow as he tossed the glove off to the side. "No."
England caught America's half-formed protest with his mouth. Their tongues slid against each other, all slick and warm, until America jerked his head back to hiss, "why not?"
"Because," England hissed as America's hips jerked up at his, "these are my last pair until the next delivery, whenever the hell that is, and I refuse- ah- to ruin them."
A scowl furrowed blue eyes as their owner grabbed the lapels in front of him and yanked it down for another kiss. They stayed in this position for a while, all lips and tongue, abrasive cloth against bare flesh, and half of his face felt warmth and sweat while the other half felt deliciously smooth leather. America inhaled, smelling the glove and sweat and England all intermingled and thought that he couldn't possibly be happier.
*~*
A chirp from above nearly dislodged Japan from his branch as he was suddenly brought back to the branch digging into his side on his uncomfortable perch. Somehow, his hand had crept under his waistband, but had yet to slip in all the way. Japan adjusted his position before slowly allowing his hand to reach its destination. His eyes returned to the two figures, now in the process of tugging each other's clothes off. He swallowed, hoping that would be enough to prevent drool and breathed calmly through his nose to prevent nosebleeds.
Japan down looked at the two naked bodies undulating around each other and thought a dunk in the nearby lake wouldn't nearly be enough to prevent that nosebleed.
A Test of Strength [5/6]
anonymous
April 26 2010, 07:18:15 UTC
*~*
"Naaarrrrggghhhh," America moaned as England sucked hard on the skin next to his nipple. His fingers were loosely tangled in blonde locks as its owner licked and sucked his way down towards there. America nearly stopped breathing as England's breath ghosted over his cock, but no envelopment was forthcoming. He was about to start whining (his specialty, England would say, but England was grumpy, so he didn't count) when a finger began circling gently, and the thought of pain cleared his mind enough for words to be semi-coherent.
"Wait, wait-" America gasped. "D'you have anything-"
He wished he hadn't said anything, because he lost all the warmth of their contact as England glanced at him and went to rummage in his jacket that America now regretted throwing so far away. He propped himself up on his elbows as England came back holding a small round container in his hand. "Is that- is that Vaseline?"
"Petroleum jelly, yes," England said as he popped the lid off and swiped a finger inside.
"From the- ah- from the kits?"
"Yes." England nudged a finger in and enjoyed the sight of a wonderfully naked America. A wonderfully naked aroused America. "What, you thought I swiped it from the medical wards?"
"No, no, just thought you'd need all you can get so you don't get sunburns on your lily-white ass."
England narrowed his eyes at the teeth America was flashing his way and found satisfaction in making the inane grin disappear when he jammed three fingers in without much warning. It was even more satisfying when he found the nub and America melted in into the mat, mouth open and cheeks flushed with pleasure. The warm and gooey feeling inside his chest and his loins was spurring a sense of urgency, so he hurriedly finished stretching America.
England was coating his arousal when America reached out a hand to cover his, which was resting on America's thigh. He looked up to see America smiling softly, happily at him, and that gooey feeling tightened up until he could hardly breathe, looking into the beautiful blue eyes he had missed for far too long. His hand turned by itself to link his fingers with America's. England stared back, and when he felt his lips softening into a smile in response, he tore his eyes away to focus on entering America. His beautiful, grown up America whose moans matched his as his heat sucked in England's cock.
England leaned over America as he started to move. He face hovered just above those glasses, just looking, until America's other hand pulled him down the rest of the way. They moaned into each other's mouths. The serenity of their kisses was completely absent in the lower halves of their bodies, which were moving with increasing urgency, each thrust becoming faster and wilder. Both pairs of hands somehow became linked, and England held them right above America's head like he was afraid America would let go again.
For a while, there was only moaning, gasping, and the slapping of tangled flesh until America stiffened and came with an incoherent yell. England groaned in relief as he finally let his hips buck wildly and came, moaning America's name into his neck. He slumped over to the side, half on and half off America as they fought to catch their breath.
A Test of Strength [6/6] + notes
anonymous
April 26 2010, 07:25:48 UTC
America's arms circled his back, and only as he broke the connections was England aware that they'd still been holding hands. They laid there for a bit, simply enjoying the feel of other's bodies in the afterglow. A noise outside brought England back to reality, that they were laying on a dingy, sweat-soaked mat, they were in the middle of a war, and the other Allies could easily walk in on them at any moment, never mind that they were all supposed to be busy right then. He considered his words carefully, as America liked for cuddle for as long as possible (as he'd recently learned, much to his everlasting delight). England gave him a quick buss as America nuzzled his face.
"We need to get dressed. Don't want the others walking in on us, especially that bloody frog-"
"-or Russia," America squeaked as he abruptly sat up, dropping England to the mat. He was about to start scrambling for his clothes when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned back to look at England, who just blinked at him with limpid green eyes. America paused, and with a small smile, leaned forward to kiss him, deep and slow.
When they drew back to breathe, America propped his forehead on England's.
"I love you," America murmured.
England flushed and averted his eyes. "...love you too, git."
*~*
The sight of the two of them, climaxing so close together, was more than enough to send Japan over the edge. He panted, barely keeping himself balanced on the branch. He wiped his hand on his shirt (he'll change and wash his clothes before giving his report to Germany), then wiped his face clean of the blood that dripped from his nose. After he deemed himself sufficiently clean and decent once more, he shifted (rustling rather loudly, but the two Allies appeared not to have heard) and began climbing down from the tree. Once he finished noting everything he had just seen (complete with drawings) in his personal, private notebook, he would give his report to Germany.
*~*
Epilogue: after witnessing many more such unions, Japan was finally able to get a hand on stopping the nosebleeds, which made spying and clandestine videotaping much, much easier.
*~*
Note: -During World War II, a variety of petroleum jelly called dark red veterinary petroleum jelly was often included in life raft survival kits. Acting as a sunscreen, it provides protection against ultraviolet rays. (copy pasta’d from Wikipedia) Which explains the comment about the kits, yeah?
I totally wasn’t going to do any research on this, but then I read up on stuff that only peripherally had to do with this fill because apparently I just had to know. There are probably inaccuracies in this, but hopefully it’s vague enough for you gentle readers to ignore it. XD
Sorry for the jump in POV halfway through the smut. Dunno, it just sorta...wrote itself like that. The rest of the POV changes should be pretty clear. Also, I really really really hate that Word and LJ give me completely different character counts. -_-
I know what a great fic reads like, and this wasn't it, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME. Oh god, I don't care what you want, I'll draw it. No seriously, I never thought this would be filled, I usually just surf the fill index.
Amazing, you're amazing. Now I'm going to go read it and give you a better more intelligent response.
Re: A Test of Strength [6/6] + notes
anonymous
April 27 2010, 02:39:46 UTC
Whoa, this is totally hot, authanon. I think I have a think for UKUS -- or just America bottoming, as I find FrUs ridiculously hot as well. My country tis of thee, take it up the ass under a tree indeed.
[Part 10] Push-ups, WW2
*~*
Basically, I took the picture, the third bonus, and just kind of...ran away with it. Sorry OP. I was originally going to post this in 2 parts- pre-smut and smut- but it was short enough that it just ended up being a oneshot. The second half of this is better, I swear.
Also, OP never answered the whole UKUS vs USUK thing before it maxed out, so I just went with what you wrote in the subject line. Also, I like England topping. XD
This is the first real fanfic I've ever finished, much less posted, so if you see any mistakes or have any concrit, kindly point them out please!
*~*
Japan crept through the bushes, moving carefully to avoid making any noise. To make noise was to get caught, which would be a dim move in and of itself, but to get caught spying while in the midst of a war, well- that would be the height of foolishness.
The practice grounds weren’t empty, but it was immediately obvious that his targets weren’t there, so Japan continued creeping around the premises. He got lucky when he came alongside one of the buildings and heard familiar voices coming from one of the windows near the tree. After confirming his solitude, he scaled the tree as quickly as possible (which still took much too long; he wasn’t as spry as he used to be). He spent only a moment eyeing the branch nearest the window before deeming it sufficiently leafy and sturdy enough to hold his weight and hide him from view.
After carefully arranging himself on the branch, he looked from his spot into the room. The window was slightly open, which was more than enough to allow the occupants’ voices to be heard clearly. Though he had arrived in the middle of their conversation, he managed to glean their intentions to test America's strength via...push-ups? This seemed to be a rather odd way to test one’s strength, but the results should give Japan exactly what he came for: intelligence on how strong America was and his role in the war.
The room he was peering into appeared to be dedicated to indoor exercise, with mats and weights and bars strewn about the floor. England and America were standing near a ratty blue mat discussing the details of the test. The rest of the Allies were nowhere to be seen.
Inside, England nodded his head, and this appeared to be the signal to start. He watched America remove his shirt and move into position, and England was moving as well-
Japan could hardly believe his eyes.
America was doing push-ups with England sitting on his back. And he was moving fast. Up, down, up, down, 33, 34, 35... England's voice was coming through the window with the regularity of a- what were those musical timers called? Ah, yes, metronomes- and showed no signs of slowing down.
From his position, he could see the scars that littered America's arms and shoulders, though they were far fewer than his own (and doubtless England's as well). England, he thought, looked much too comfortable on America's back.
Japan's mind finally cleared as he remembered he was supposed to be taking notes. He managed to note America's abundant arm strength before his ears tuned back to England's voice. What he heard froze his mind again.
"107, 108, 109..."
America had done over 100 push-ups with England on his back, and he showed no signs of exhaustion. The count was as steady as ever, though England's expression, still neutrally composed as it had been from the beginning, had acquire a slightly glazed sheen to it. America looked bored, as he had from the beginning.
The miles of skin and rippling muscles were beginning to warm Japan's insides, and he firmly suppressed the feeling. He couldn't get distracted now; Germany was already stressed enough with trying to keep the Italies in line. It would be unconscionable to add to his anxiety.
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"223, 224, 225..." England's eyes weren't quite half-lidded, but his face definitely bespoke boredom.
"How long has it been?"
England checked his watch. "Less than 5 minutes."
America scrunched his face in annoyance. "This is getting really boring."
"I agree."
"I wanna stop."
"Getting tired?"
"No, I'm bored. I wanna do something else." Japan blinked rapidly. Was his English failing him, or did he imagine the suggestiveness America had given that last word? The images that flashed through his mind brought back the warm feeling, and a flush was spreading out from his neck.
"Hn. Tell you what. Get to 500 and I'll give you a special reward, how's that?"
“ Hm." Up, down, up, down, up, down. "How many am I am at now?"
"272, 273, 274-"
"They should be more than happy with 500." 500? Japan's eyes nearly left their sockets.
"I'd imagine so."
The shiny metal tags around America's neck suddenly caught his attention. He could just barely make them out, and he thought he could just make out their rhythmic clinking as they hit the floor every time America lowered himself. Trivial, but it was a distraction from England's hypnotically even voice. 355, 356, 357... Japan's hands refused to let go of the branch long enough to continue taking notes. What was there to write about? America was freakishly strong, and his strength was likely to be reflected in his military. Japan had never liked second guessing himself, but...perhaps that attack wasn't the wisest course of action. The warning to stay out instead spurred him to join the war.
Briefly, he wondered where the other Allies were. If he understood the situation correctly, this display of strength was their idea that neither England nor America were too enthusiastic about. Wouldn't they want to witness it to confirm for themselves? As if to answer his question, the roar of tanks and airplanes fired up in the distance. Oh, Japan thought distantly, they're readying for an attack. Germany should know. France, Russia, and China will be attacking soon. He had his notepad pulled back in front of him when his eyes drifted back to the window and, to his astonishment, saw England petting America like a kitten.
No, not petting. England was threading his fingers through the other's hair, and oh- he could hear the raspy breaths of the blonde still going up, down, up, down, up, down. America was finally tiring at- what was the count? 442, 443, 444... They may be at war, but Japan couldn't help but feel awe at this young nation and his boundless strength. He himself was getting stronger, thanks to Germany's training, but his old limbs would never approach anything resembling what he was currently witnessing.
America's breathing was decidedly more ragged than it was a minute ago, and his pace, kept in time by a British accent, was definitely slower than it had been thus far. Japan released a breath he didn't know that he had been holding. It wasn't as if his fears that America was secretly some sort of superweapon robot or one of those superpowered people he had seen in America's- comic books, they were called- had been dispelled. He had no business entertaining such silly notions, however much these comics were a secret guilty pleasure of his (after the war, when he has some time, he wants to try his hand at making his own comics). He vaguely recalled a muscular man with a red cape who was capable of superhuman feats, and wondered how much of this character was modeled on America himself.
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Inside the room, America collapsed with a whump as "500" left England's lips. England leaned over the other, a smirk playing around his lips. "Tired, are you?"
America languidly waved his hand, or tried to, as much as he could while being smooshed into the floor by England. "Just-" *pant* "-a little." *pant* "Can't remember the last time I did this many with someone sitting on my back."
"Just be glad it wasn't Russia." England pulled out a small notepad and a pen as he climbed off a briefly horrified America and stood up. "500 push-ups in 10 minutes with- aren't you getting up?"
"In a minute." America's breath continued to puff out over the mat that was laid out on the cement floor. He'd never admit it, but those 500 push-ups had only come about because England had promised him that reward. He probably would have stopped around 300, which the other Allies would have perfectly satisfied with, especially since England had sat on his back the entire time. At least France hadn't insisted on being the one to sit on him. He wouldn't have made it to 100 before flipping out over France's groping (most likely of his ass too. Only one person had permission to grope his ass, and that person was definitely not France.).
America was startled out of his reverie as hands swept across his (only slightly sticky!) back and down his arms. He bit down a moan as those hands started massaging his biceps (he would never admit that they were sore), eventually roving back to his shoulders. "Ngh, don't stop" America mumbled.
England leaned over until his breathe tickled the other's ear. "Would you like a full body massage? To relax and warm you up for your...reward? Or are you too tired for it?"
America had been shivering at the low, sultry voice, but at England's last question, an indignant look crossed his face momentarily before it settled into a smirk. With a quick yank, he somehow managed to flip them so that his dog tags were draped over the starched green uniform.
"I," America said pompously, "am never too tired for that." He leaned forward until their noses were touching, ignoring the ache in his arms and shoulders. "I want my reward," he breathed, nuzzling England.
England closed the distance between their faces and gently pressed their lips together. "And you'll get it..." he whispered against his lips. “ I just thought-" America landed on his back with a small oomph- “that you’d like to lay back and enjoy the ride, since you’re so tuckered out from your workout.”
America blinked bemusedly up at England, then let out a chuckle. "Well, then, ride 'em, cowboy."
England let out a groan at the word "cowboy" before crushing his lips to America's. "No more witty banter," he mumbled.
"Fine, fine," America muttered in response, though I like witty banter and the brief thought of superheroes flashed through his mind. Heroic capes and glowing silhouettes were driven from his mind as England's tongue invaded his mouth, leaving a trail of pure heat everywhere. He tasted of tea and burnt scones and the eggs that France had insisted on making for breakfast (which England had only eaten because he hadn't known that France had cooked them).
Doubtless he himself tasted of those eggs as well as coffee and bacon and all the other delicious breakfast foods that France had whipped up that England refused to touch. Really, how anyone could refuse food that- oh god, the gloved hand that had been sliding down his chest had just tweaked his nipple, and now England's hips were grinding into his now and the heat from all the places they were connected was going straight to his groin. America's mind lost all coherency as England's mouth began tracing a very wet path down his neck and to his chest.
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Japan had no idea what possessed him to stay on the branch as long as he had when they were clearly finished inside. Perhaps it was the sight of those long, pale fingers buried in golden hair, or maybe he was still in shock from witnessing 500 amazing push-ups. There had been a period of time when he could have easily left, when things were still innocent and he could have left.
Now? Now he couldn't possibly move, despite every honorable instinct inside him screaming to leave and to give the lovers their privacy. The warm feeling had erupted into a melting hot mess inside, and he simply could not deny his curiosity (perverseness, be honest, you are a pervert). How would Western conjugal relations differ from those of the East?
Western foreplay appeared to be rather violent (to be fair, this may be just a quirk of England and America's relationship- those two have had a volatile relationship for as long as he'd known both of them). The two were flipping each other to the ground, apparently fighting for dominance. Then they started kissing in earnest and Japan's mind went utterly and completely blank.
*~*
England's gloves were godly, America decided. Absolutely godly, with what they were doing to his nipples. The feel of the leather scraping his skin went straight to his groin, and he arched his back, wanting more. His hands scrambled at England's back as he tried to gasp out Engl-, but then a hot mouth laved his nipple and his mind lost any coherency it had managed to recover. Every fiber of his being was centered on that wet, delicious heat.
America protested as England lifted his head, only to lose it to another moan as nimble fingers (it was all that knitting; his fingers were talented) undid his pants (trousers, he heard England say in his head), brushing teasingly at that spot right there god yes. His eyes opened when the sudden lack of hot breathe left his hipbone feeling cold, and he saw those nimble fingers, rather than fully exposing him, undoing the laces of his boots. He tried to sit up as his boots were tugged off, but England pushed him back down as his teeth pulled at the glove of his other hand.
The leather on his chest made his eyes cross again, and he managed to gasp out, "no- leave your gloves on."
England raised an eyebrow as he tossed the glove off to the side. "No."
England caught America's half-formed protest with his mouth. Their tongues slid against each other, all slick and warm, until America jerked his head back to hiss, "why not?"
"Because," England hissed as America's hips jerked up at his, "these are my last pair until the next delivery, whenever the hell that is, and I refuse- ah- to ruin them."
A scowl furrowed blue eyes as their owner grabbed the lapels in front of him and yanked it down for another kiss. They stayed in this position for a while, all lips and tongue, abrasive cloth against bare flesh, and half of his face felt warmth and sweat while the other half felt deliciously smooth leather. America inhaled, smelling the glove and sweat and England all intermingled and thought that he couldn't possibly be happier.
*~*
A chirp from above nearly dislodged Japan from his branch as he was suddenly brought back to the branch digging into his side on his uncomfortable perch. Somehow, his hand had crept under his waistband, but had yet to slip in all the way. Japan adjusted his position before slowly allowing his hand to reach its destination. His eyes returned to the two figures, now in the process of tugging each other's clothes off. He swallowed, hoping that would be enough to prevent drool and breathed calmly through his nose to prevent nosebleeds.
Japan down looked at the two naked bodies undulating around each other and thought a dunk in the nearby lake wouldn't nearly be enough to prevent that nosebleed.
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"Naaarrrrggghhhh," America moaned as England sucked hard on the skin next to his nipple. His fingers were loosely tangled in blonde locks as its owner licked and sucked his way down towards there. America nearly stopped breathing as England's breath ghosted over his cock, but no envelopment was forthcoming. He was about to start whining (his specialty, England would say, but England was grumpy, so he didn't count) when a finger began circling gently, and the thought of pain cleared his mind enough for words to be semi-coherent.
"Wait, wait-" America gasped. "D'you have anything-"
He wished he hadn't said anything, because he lost all the warmth of their contact as England glanced at him and went to rummage in his jacket that America now regretted throwing so far away. He propped himself up on his elbows as England came back holding a small round container in his hand. "Is that- is that Vaseline?"
"Petroleum jelly, yes," England said as he popped the lid off and swiped a finger inside.
"From the- ah- from the kits?"
"Yes." England nudged a finger in and enjoyed the sight of a wonderfully naked America. A wonderfully naked aroused America. "What, you thought I swiped it from the medical wards?"
"No, no, just thought you'd need all you can get so you don't get sunburns on your lily-white ass."
England narrowed his eyes at the teeth America was flashing his way and found satisfaction in making the inane grin disappear when he jammed three fingers in without much warning. It was even more satisfying when he found the nub and America melted in into the mat, mouth open and cheeks flushed with pleasure. The warm and gooey feeling inside his chest and his loins was spurring a sense of urgency, so he hurriedly finished stretching America.
England was coating his arousal when America reached out a hand to cover his, which was resting on America's thigh. He looked up to see America smiling softly, happily at him, and that gooey feeling tightened up until he could hardly breathe, looking into the beautiful blue eyes he had missed for far too long. His hand turned by itself to link his fingers with America's. England stared back, and when he felt his lips softening into a smile in response, he tore his eyes away to focus on entering America. His beautiful, grown up America whose moans matched his as his heat sucked in England's cock.
England leaned over America as he started to move. He face hovered just above those glasses, just looking, until America's other hand pulled him down the rest of the way. They moaned into each other's mouths. The serenity of their kisses was completely absent in the lower halves of their bodies, which were moving with increasing urgency, each thrust becoming faster and wilder. Both pairs of hands somehow became linked, and England held them right above America's head like he was afraid America would let go again.
For a while, there was only moaning, gasping, and the slapping of tangled flesh until America stiffened and came with an incoherent yell. England groaned in relief as he finally let his hips buck wildly and came, moaning America's name into his neck. He slumped over to the side, half on and half off America as they fought to catch their breath.
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"We need to get dressed. Don't want the others walking in on us, especially that bloody frog-"
"-or Russia," America squeaked as he abruptly sat up, dropping England to the mat. He was about to start scrambling for his clothes when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned back to look at England, who just blinked at him with limpid green eyes. America paused, and with a small smile, leaned forward to kiss him, deep and slow.
When they drew back to breathe, America propped his forehead on England's.
"I love you," America murmured.
England flushed and averted his eyes. "...love you too, git."
*~*
The sight of the two of them, climaxing so close together, was more than enough to send Japan over the edge. He panted, barely keeping himself balanced on the branch. He wiped his hand on his shirt (he'll change and wash his clothes before giving his report to Germany), then wiped his face clean of the blood that dripped from his nose. After he deemed himself sufficiently clean and decent once more, he shifted (rustling rather loudly, but the two Allies appeared not to have heard) and began climbing down from the tree. Once he finished noting everything he had just seen (complete with drawings) in his personal, private notebook, he would give his report to Germany.
*~*
Epilogue: after witnessing many more such unions, Japan was finally able to get a hand on stopping the nosebleeds, which made spying and clandestine videotaping much, much easier.
*~*
Note:
-During World War II, a variety of petroleum jelly called dark red veterinary petroleum jelly was often included in life raft survival kits. Acting as a sunscreen, it provides protection against ultraviolet rays. (copy pasta’d from Wikipedia) Which explains the comment about the kits, yeah?
I totally wasn’t going to do any research on this, but then I read up on stuff that only peripherally had to do with this fill because apparently I just had to know. There are probably inaccuracies in this, but hopefully it’s vague enough for you gentle readers to ignore it. XD
Sorry for the jump in POV halfway through the smut. Dunno, it just sorta...wrote itself like that. The rest of the POV changes should be pretty clear. Also, I really really really hate that Word and LJ give me completely different character counts. -_-
I know what a great fic reads like, and this wasn't it, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!
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Amazing, you're amazing. Now I'm going to go read it and give you a better more intelligent response.
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So this artfag will draw something for it tomorrow and post it in this thread.
I really liked the idea of the metronome pace, and how posh England feels in the whole story. Seriously, thank you so much writernon.
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God that was... wow, insanely hot. I don't know, just... wow. I love seme!UK and uke!US so this made it even better.
But the way you described all the pushups... Man, Alfred your strength is hot. I loved all of this!
I am getting rambly. I'll shut up now.
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Oh. And. Dogtags. *drool*
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