England isn't wearing a tie, and his top button is unbuttoned, and it's showing a tiny patch of pale, pale skin and in the delicate-pink sunset it looks like it's glowing and the little dip between his collarbones is shiny with sweat and America can't look away.
England reaches around America's arm to appropriate the can of Coke that's sweating all over America's hand and raises it to his mouth. America has never seen anyone else hold a mass-produced Coke can like the Queen's own china, and he wonders distractedly how far gone he must be to find that hot.
"What, no tea?" He steals it back and pretends to himself that he can taste England on the rim.
"It's ninety-five bloody degrees out," England retorts, briefly looking away from the sunset over the trees to pin America with the full force of his glare. England is beautiful in a way America will never be - slender and sharp-edged against the sun with something ancient and wild still hidden behind his eyes. The best America can do is try to shiver discretely instead of diving straight for England's pants.
England licks a drop of condensation off his thumb, and America sucks in a breath and wills himself to stay still, digs his fingers into the gritty stone of the balcony.
It doesn't work.
"Fuck," hisses America, "Ohfuck England," and he grabs him around the waist, letting the Coke can teeter and fall off the edge of the balcony - he'll pick it up later, whenever, because now he has England warm and solid and sweat-damp under his hands, and the rest of the world gets unceremoniously relegated to the corner of his mind he uses for unimportant things like tooth floss and infomercials because England.
"You - America, this is completely uncivili- " and America cuts him off with a kiss, pushing him back into the solid wall and crowding into his space. He pulls away from England's mouth to lick down across his throat into that little sliver of skin that's been taunting him all day flicking his tongue out to taste it, and above him England gasps and pulls at his hair.
"Been, you've been - all damn day, teasing me," he groans, and he doesn't even realize he's grinding his hips into England until England is wrapping one leg around his waist and grinding back, letting his head fall back and baring his teeth to the sky, which only gives America more throat to bite at.
"God," he whispers, "here," and he pulls England off the ground, one arm under his ass and England's legs hooked around his waist, and oh, that's so much better just for the harsh, growling noise England makes when America crushes them together, scraping him back against the wall.
America's head falls forwards, his forehead onto England's shoulder, and he bites at England's chest through his shirt, panting harshly into the wet cotton.
Fill, part 2/2
anonymous
July 23 2010, 16:03:12 UTC
"America - hah - you are so indecent," and it's supposed to sound affronted but it comes out as breathless instead; it's so England and America whimpers into England's shirt and shudders against him and half-giggles as he comes.
England is making frustrated noises above him, and America fights past the post-orgasm haze to squeeze one hand down into England's pants, past his belt and his boxers to wrap around his cock, and England gasps.
"Y-yeah, just - just - " and he comes like that, his hand clenched in America's hair, and America holds him up while he trembles through it, limp against the wall.
"Good lord," England breathes, lifting his head to gaze fuzzily at America.
"Mmm." America feels a slow, sloppy grin spreading across his face, because he's drowsy in the aftermath and well-fucked is a really, really good look for England, especially with the deep gold sunlight highlighting the flush just beginning to fade from his cheeks.
England gives up and lets his head flop down onto America's shoulder. "Insatiable horny bastard."
"Yeah, yeah." America pulls England off the wall and heads for the door to inside. "Shower?"
"Please."
America looks back out at the last embers of the sunset, and rubs his hand over England's back. A little bubble of bright-gold joy swells up inside of him and bursts somewhere in his chest, sending little tingling sparks all along his body. He grins up at the faint stars beginning to peer out at the world and blows a goodnight kiss to all his people before he shoulders the door open and carries England inside to shower, and then to bed.
(comment length limits are the ENEMY). I hope you enjoyed, OP!
Re: Fill, part 2/2
anonymous
July 23 2010, 17:34:58 UTC
...*re-reads*
...
Ahem. *starts mopping up my mess of blood and drool* Excuse me, I'll just, clean this up and than you will find me in my bunk with a printed copy of this.
Re: Fill, part 2/2
anonymous
July 23 2010, 18:50:03 UTC
I was hoping someone would fill this, and then when I saw someone did I was like Oh man, what if it's no good? But then I read it anyways and you did SO MUCH BETTER than I imagined and ohmigod that was hot. Like holy shit. That was fucking amazingly orgasmicly hot. Oh man.
I hear babies and souls are often offered, but those are sort of useless, so have some cookies instead.
England isn't wearing a tie, and his top button is unbuttoned, and it's showing a tiny patch of pale, pale skin and in the delicate-pink sunset it looks like it's glowing and the little dip between his collarbones is shiny with sweat and America can't look away.
England reaches around America's arm to appropriate the can of Coke that's sweating all over America's hand and raises it to his mouth. America has never seen anyone else hold a mass-produced Coke can like the Queen's own china, and he wonders distractedly how far gone he must be to find that hot.
"What, no tea?" He steals it back and pretends to himself that he can taste England on the rim.
"It's ninety-five bloody degrees out," England retorts, briefly looking away from the sunset over the trees to pin America with the full force of his glare. England is beautiful in a way America will never be - slender and sharp-edged against the sun with something ancient and wild still hidden behind his eyes. The best America can do is try to shiver discretely instead of diving straight for England's pants.
England licks a drop of condensation off his thumb, and America sucks in a breath and wills himself to stay still, digs his fingers into the gritty stone of the balcony.
It doesn't work.
"Fuck," hisses America, "Ohfuck England," and he grabs him around the waist, letting the Coke can teeter and fall off the edge of the balcony - he'll pick it up later, whenever, because now he has England warm and solid and sweat-damp under his hands, and the rest of the world gets unceremoniously relegated to the corner of his mind he uses for unimportant things like tooth floss and infomercials because England.
"You - America, this is completely uncivili- " and America cuts him off with a kiss, pushing him back into the solid wall and crowding into his space. He pulls away from England's mouth to lick down across his throat into that little sliver of skin that's been taunting him all day flicking his tongue out to taste it, and above him England gasps and pulls at his hair.
"Been, you've been - all damn day, teasing me," he groans, and he doesn't even realize he's grinding his hips into England until England is wrapping one leg around his waist and grinding back, letting his head fall back and baring his teeth to the sky, which only gives America more throat to bite at.
"God," he whispers, "here," and he pulls England off the ground, one arm under his ass and England's legs hooked around his waist, and oh, that's so much better just for the harsh, growling noise England makes when America crushes them together, scraping him back against the wall.
America's head falls forwards, his forehead onto England's shoulder, and he bites at England's chest through his shirt, panting harshly into the wet cotton.
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England is making frustrated noises above him, and America fights past the post-orgasm haze to squeeze one hand down into England's pants, past his belt and his boxers to wrap around his cock, and England gasps.
"Y-yeah, just - just - " and he comes like that, his hand clenched in America's hair, and America holds him up while he trembles through it, limp against the wall.
"Good lord," England breathes, lifting his head to gaze fuzzily at America.
"Mmm." America feels a slow, sloppy grin spreading across his face, because he's drowsy in the aftermath and well-fucked is a really, really good look for England, especially with the deep gold sunlight highlighting the flush just beginning to fade from his cheeks.
England gives up and lets his head flop down onto America's shoulder. "Insatiable horny bastard."
"Yeah, yeah." America pulls England off the wall and heads for the door to inside. "Shower?"
"Please."
America looks back out at the last embers of the sunset, and rubs his hand over England's back. A little bubble of bright-gold joy swells up inside of him and bursts somewhere in his chest, sending little tingling sparks all along his body. He grins up at the faint stars beginning to peer out at the world and blows a goodnight kiss to all his people before he shoulders the door open and carries England inside to shower, and then to bed.
(comment length limits are the ENEMY). I hope you enjoyed, OP!
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T-t-t-that wa-w-was so hot, Anon!
I, I just... I love it <3
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...
Ahem. *starts mopping up my mess of blood and drool* Excuse me, I'll just, clean this up and than you will find me in my bunk with a printed copy of this.
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Damn hawt stuff there... now I have a new kink.
Very well done A!A!!!
You have succeeded in making me fap without touching myself. ;)
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Very well done anon, and very hot.
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I hear babies and souls are often offered, but those are sort of useless, so have some cookies instead.
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Loved it, well done!
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You really know how to create a picture in readers' minds.
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Pst, if you ever de-anon, you might consider using degrees Celsius instead of Fahrenheit? Because you know, England.
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I don't usually do the captcha thing, but it says 'virility pattern' LOL captcha knows too.
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You think you know who I am? But I don't even have an LJ! Now I'm curious anon - how can you tell?
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Like the way Alfred is such an adorable doofus and Arthur saying 'Good Lord' and the all around sexiness.
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I'll be in my bunk.
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