My Blue-Eyed Boy (4b/?)
anonymous
September 25 2010, 12:25:02 UTC
(Short extension to the part before 'cus character limit killed me.)
“You do, don’t you?” America pressed. England pulled away and glared down at him. “Why is my feelings for you so important, Alfred? You are my little brother, so of course I care about you. You want to be the centre of attention all the time, is that it?” “Well no…” America looked away, blushing. “I can’t constantly be around you, America. I have other things to see to,” England continued. America stared at him, blue eyes glistening with the threat of tears. “Arthur…?” England pulled him closer. “I’ll be here for as long as you need me, but you need to grow. I can’t smother you all the time.” America buried his face in England’s chest, his ear against his ribcage so he could listen to his heartbeat. England stroked his hair, eyes closed contentedly as he started to drift to sleep.
America couldn’t help himself though. England so close to him, warming him with his presence, and the fact it was just he and England together…
“Alfred, what are you doing?” England frowned and America blushed, hugging the cushion closer. “Nothing,” he lied, slowly sliding his hand out of his trousers, biting his lip. England narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything more.
My Blue-Eyed Boy (5a/?)
anonymous
September 25 2010, 12:56:21 UTC
The hours flew by as the fell asleep on the sofa, England’s stories of dragons and knights filling America’s dreams. When the older nation finally did stir, he struggled to scoop his charge into his arms and carry him up the stairs - proof of just how big he was getting to be. England ground his teeth together as he managed to set America down on his bed without waking him, then stroked his head soothingly. “Good night,” he murmured, kissing the top of his head, then left the room. He didn’t retire to his own bed, however. Instead he left the house for a bit, heading for the town.
America woke an hour after England returned, rubbing his face wearily and trying to work out how he’d gotten from the living room downstairs to his bedroom. He shrugged and left his room, heading straight for England’s whilst trying to make up a valid story that would allow him to share his caretaker’s bed again. He stopped outside the door, holding his breath as he heard the moaning coming from inside the room. America stooped down to peer through the keyhole and bit his lip when he saw England on his hands and knees, a blonde male holding his hips as he pushed into him. America’s heart skipped a beat, every moan or lustful murmur England made only turning him on even more. Deciding no-one was going to bother him, America loosened his pants and took his length in his hand, stroking it in time with England’s lover’s thrusts. America knew it was wrong to feel this way about his brotherly figure, and spying on him when in truth both of them should have been asleep in bed - alone. But America didn’t care. All he cared about was dealing with his aching boner, and pleasuring himself to England’s moans. By the time America released into his own hand, England and his partner were just finishing too - it was timed perfectly. America slid down against the door, his hand still wrapped around his member, and his free one running through his hair. He closed his eyes, panting for a bit as he listened to England talking to the male. It was clear from how formal they sounded when speaking that England had no feelings towards the man in his room, and most likely had hired him. And, just like before, America only wished that he’d been the one with England, not the male who’d likely never see him again after leaving the following morning.
England’s stays never lasted long, and both of them often wished they were longer, but there was nothing America could do or say to stop England from leaving yet again.
“Please don’t go,” the younger nation whispered as he hugged England good bye. “I’ll miss you.” “I’ll be back before you know it,” England smiled, pinching his cheeks teasingly. “Grow up big and strong, ok?” America nodded, and stuck out his chin bravely as England gathered up his things and headed down to the docks, his ship and crew awaiting him. “Next time for sure,” America narrowed his eyes. “I’ll tell him just how I feel. Then he won’t leave me. Then I’ll be all that matters in his life.” He continued grumbling to himself as he headed to the kitchen. “It’s not fair. I’m more important than any of his other colonies, and I love him more.” America got himself a drink and sipped at it before ranting on some more as he put on his shoes and left the house, heading into town. He kept his head down and walked through the crowds, who were busy going about their market business. He caught a snag of a conversation between three men, and frowned, pausing and listening whilst trying not to look too conspicuous.
(Posting in two parts because of fail character limit.)
My Blue-Eyed Boy (5b/?)
anonymous
September 25 2010, 13:07:41 UTC
“Apparently Mr. England likes young boys,” one of the men said. “You can’t believe everything the townsfolk say, Mr. Brady,” another laughed. “There are many rumours about him, but I doubt half of them are true.” “But haven’t you seen the way he looks at the young males?” The third man backed up the first. “It’s certainly not in a ‘normal’ way.” “What about young America?” The second man frowned. “He doesn’t appear to feel much for him. I’m incredulous that this is more than a farce.” The first shook his head firmly. “But haven’t you noticed? People say he likes blonde, blue-eyed boys. It won’t be long before he develops feelings for America, I bet you.”
America felt his heart skip a beat. Was what they were saying true?
“That’s nonsense,” the second man spat. “We all should leave the business of nations be, I say.”
America walked on again before the men could spot him, a smile spreading on his face. He wanted so badly for their words to be true, for England to possibly be developing feelings for him - America already knew how he felt about him, either way.
America lay in bed that night, mulling over what he’d heard the men saying earlier that day. He stared up at the ceiling, eyebrows knitted together in deep thought. In his mind he played the scenario over and over again - what he wished would happen - England murmuring his name as the made love, their bodies pressed together, sweat and saliva mixing, waves of pleasure rushing through them. America’s long darted out to lick his lips in anticipation as he stroked at his erection. Something inside him told him he had to stop this childish game before something went wrong, but the rest of his body was screaming at him to give in to his feelings. America put his head back, gritting his teeth as he pumped his hand up and down his shaft. It was a poor substitute for the real thing, but for America it would have to do. He eventually released, thrusting into his hand, his chest heaving. His hand was sticky from his own seed, and he kept his fingers curled around his tip as he let himself calm down. When he was eventually settled and exhaustion crept over him, America turned onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut. The next time England visited, he’d tell him.
My Blue-Eyed Boy (6/?)
anonymous
September 25 2010, 13:54:56 UTC
The weeks flew by and America’s longing for England grew stronger every day. When the older nation did turn up again, it was a bit of a surprise to his charge, who was taken aback when he answered the knock at the door and saw him there. “Arthur!” America grinned broadly. England smiled half-heartedly. “I told you I’d come back,” he sighed and invited himself in, dumping his belongings down in the middle of the room and slumping down in a chair. America headed over to him, mouth hanging open slightly. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” He whined. England stared up at him, his eyes dark. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. The journey was a bit rough.” America’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and he settled down next to England. “Is there anything I can do to help?” “Not at all, I’ve just not been sleeping well recently,” England forced a smile and America’s brows came together in concern. “Can I give your shoulder’s a rub at all?” America suggested. England looked at him. “No I’m quite alright, Alfred, don’t worry yourself,” England waved his hand dismissively. “How is that so-called ‘ghost’ of yours?” America was glad to see England had his sarcastic humour back - he obviously wasn’t too tired to be able to tease. America didn’t answer though, and merely blushed.
That night America went to bed early, and stayed awake as he waited for England to retire too. When he opened the door to check on his younger brother, America pretended to be asleep, adding in snoring sounds for extra measures. England shrugged, smiled, and shut the door before heading to his own room. When America was sure the older nation was close to sleeping, he slipped out of bed and hurried to England’s room. He opened the door a crack and peered in. “England?” He hissed. The other male didn’t answer so America stepped inside and crept over to the bed. “Arthur, I had a bad dream,” he whispered, poking him sharply in the back. England groaned and rolled over, sitting up. “Alfred you need to stop this. Go back to bed,” he ordered. America crawled onto the bed, huddling close to England. “But I had a really scary bad dream.” “Fine,” England folded his arms across his chest. “Just for tonight, you can stay here with me. But after that, no more wondering into my bed at all hours of night, ok?” America nodded. “I promise I’ll be good, Arthur.” England frowned then lay back down again, his back to America. The teen bit his lip, pulled the covers over himself and cuddled closer to his caretaker. They lay in silence for a while, America pondering whether or not to shatter the peace. He wasn’t sure whether or not England was awake or not, so spoke anyway. “England I have something to tell you,” he breathed. There came no response so America continued. “I…I think I love you.” There was still no reply, so America stroked England’s arm to try and stir him. “Arthur did you hear me? I said I love you.” England glanced over his shoulder at him. “Go to sleep, America.” America looked away, frowning. “Did you hear what I said?” “Yes, Alfred, I did,” England snapped. “Now go to sleep.” “Aren’t you going to reply?” America pressed. England sat up, running a hand through his hair. “What do you expect me to say?” He murmured. “That you love me too?” America smiled hopefully.
America’s eyes widened as England pressed his lips against his, kissing him firmly before pulling away, blushing. “There,” the older nation sniffed. “Now go to sleep.” America stared blankly ahead before smiling. “So you do like me.” “Go to sleep, Alfred. I’m not going to ask you again,” England growled, turning away from the teen. America grinned smugly and settled down next to England, threading his arms around him. England didn't protest, so America nuzzled his neck, lying like that until he drifted off to sleep.
(Oh God don't kill me for the failness! *despair* )
Re: My Blue-Eyed Boy (7/?)
anonymous
September 26 2010, 11:45:17 UTC
America woke up before England the following morning, and smiled as he cuddled into him, listening to the other nation’s soft exhales as he slept. He felt a great burden lifted off his chest since last night, and was now sure England felt the same way about his charge as America did himself. As England stirred, slowly opening his eyes and flexing his fingers to wake them up, he frowned when he felt an arm round his waist and hot breath on the back of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder and frowned when he saw America there, clinging to him. “What are you doing?” He raised a thick eyebrow and America grinned at him sheepishly. “Cuddling.” England scratched his head as he sat up, staring around the room blankly.
“About last night-.” They said in unison and America blushed. “You first.” England sighed. “Whatever happened last night, it doesn’t mean anything. I just wanted to shut you up and get some rest.” “Sure it doesn’t,” America smiled knowingly and England narrowed his eyes. “I mean it Alfred.” America stared at him, head cocked slightly to the side. “I know you like me. And I know you like boys who are like me.” England felt his heart in his throat, and he looked away, cheeks flushing pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I heard some of my citizens talking about you,” America crawled into his lap, his face oh-so close to his caretaker’s. “About how you like young boys.” England ground his teeth together. “That’s nonsense. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” “And someone else told me that you like blonde, blue-eyed boys,” America continued, noticing how awkward England looked. “So I think that kiss did mean something, Arthur.” England looked America in the eye, mouth set in a firm line. “You thought wrong.”
America couldn’t hide the fact that England’s stubborn denial hurt him. He pouted, not moving out of England’s lap, his blue eyes darkening. “You taught me not to lie, Arthur,” America lifted his chin arrogantly. “You said it was wrong.” “Liking young boys is wrong too,” England glared at him furiously. “Are you accusing me of being a gentleman with no morals?” America thought for a moment before shrugging. “I know you meant something with that kiss. You shouldn’t be so afraid to admit your feelings for me. You said I was your favourite, after all.” England shook his head firmly. “America, that’s enough,” he pushed the teen away, sighing exasperatedly. “Stop it.” America huddled close to England again, burying his head in his neck. England’s eyebrows came together in concern and America exhaled shakily as he listened to the other nation’s heart beat, thudding against his ribcage. “I can’t help myself, A-Arthur,” America stammered. “I love you.” England took a deep breath and put one arm around America. “You’re my brother, America. You should know I love you too.” “But not as a brother,” America corrected him. “I love you as something else.” England felt his throat tightening with nerves, and he slowly started to shift away from his colony. “It’s getting late into the morning, Alfred. We should get some breakfast.” America grinned up at him, his stomach rumbling on cue. “That sounds like a good idea.”
England breathed a sigh of relief as America left him to get breakfast ready. He’d been so close to giving in to him, to his indecent, silent requests. England shook his head sadly. Every teenager went through these ‘crushes’. It was a natural part of growing up. And in some cases, England knew some teens even had feelings for relatives. It was perfectly normal. It was the same for his Alfred. It was a silly little crush he’d realise, soon, was utterly irrational, and give up on. He’d grow out of it. Somewhere in the back of England’s mind, however, he doubted that was the case with America. The boy - yes, he was still a boy, not yet a man - was foolish and often let himself get carried away. He was also stubborn. If America believed he loved his father-figure, then he did.
England served up breakfast to his hungry, eager colony, who got stuck into it right away. He never took his eyes off America as he sat down to eat, gingerly poking the charcoaled food. He needed to talk sense into the boy, otherwise the feelings would just get more intense over time.
Re: Fanart
anonymous
September 29 2010, 19:07:05 UTC
:D
Oh, wow! First fill, first art! It's a good picture! ^^ I SHALL continue now, with a volcano built and history assessments on the Industrial Revolution trampled into the ground! (don't ask..)
My Blue-Eyed Boy (8/?)
anonymous
September 29 2010, 19:30:27 UTC
England looked up from prodding his food half-heartedly and licked his lips nervously as America stared up at him, head tilted slightly to the side. “I need to talk to you…” England trailed off, looking away. A smile grew on America’s face, and he shuffled forward in his seat to lean forwards against the table, head propped in hands. “About what?” “You can’t love me,” England shook his head firmly and as America went to protest, held up his hand to silence him. “Not in that way.” America stared at his feet. “I can’t help how I feel Arthur. I know you feel the same way, too.” England’s eyes widened slightly, before they narrowed to slits. “No, Alfred, I don’t. I care about you, like a good brother should.” America sulked, and made no effort to hide the fact. His arms folded across his chest, pouting, as he shot ‘evils’ at his caretaker across the table. “Alfred, you’re at a table. Now sit up straight and behave,” England chided. “You’re not a child.” America smirked, sitting up properly and wrinkling his nose. “Then don’t treat me like one.” England shook his head in disbelief, picking up America’s empty plate and stacking it underneath his near-full one. He headed back to the kitchen and set them on the side, frowning as he turned around and saw America smiling at him, having followed him into the room. “What?” England cleared his throat as he felt it grow tight with nerves. America stepped closer to England and gingerly reached out a hand to stroke his cheek. England stared at it, horrified, and just as his colony’s fingers brushed his skin, he slapped them away harshly. His eyes burned furiously as he glared at America. “And just what do you think you are doing?” England snapped. America blushed and stepped closer again. “Kiss me again England, like you did last night.” England skirted around him, but America blocked his path again quickly. “Why won’t you kiss me?” America whined, his cheeks flushed and eyes flickering up and down England’s body. “Because it’s immoral,” England lifted his chin defiantly and pushed him aside gently. America grabbed his arm, pulling him towards him. England felt his breath slip from him at the shear strength of the boy - no one was quite like his boy. He stared into America’s eyes, almost in a daze, before coming back to his senses as the teen pressed a kiss to his cheek. England pushed against him, hissing at how wrong and lewd the act was, but other than that didn’t do a great deal to protest. Whether or not America’s strength aided him, the teen basked in triumph at being able to kiss England again. His face smothered in sloppy, inexperienced kisses, England found himself leaning to kiss America back, reaching up to entangle his hands in his hair before using his experience and manoeuvrability to gain the upper hand, pulling his colony into his own arms. “If you’re going to do this,” England frowned at the younger blonde. “At least do it properly, and put me in charge.” American grinned enthusiastically and nibbled along England’s jaw line, sucking on the skin to bring out rosy love bites. England had to bite on his lip to keep himself from moaning at the blissfulness of it. For someone with little experience in the area, America was very good with his mouth. Seemed all the exercising it through talking non-stop paid off, after all.
Suddenly, America was shoved away, and stared at England as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and his face with his sleeve. “No,” he said firmly after he’d finished rubbing away every last kiss America had set on him. America glared back defiantly, but eventually gave in, lowering his gaze to the floor and shuffling away.
England felt his heart thudding against his ribcage, threatening to burst out. He couldn’t let the boy do this to him; ruin his reputation and make him an indecent fool. England was, after all, a genuine father-figure to him.
(Would OP prefer smut to follow? I am easy either way, so if you really want smut, feel free to request. My apologies if this is a fail update, Anon is just...failing at the moment tehe.)
Re: My Blue-Eyed Boy (8/?)
anonymous
October 1 2010, 01:52:06 UTC
not!OP would love smut ;)
I really like this, authoranon. I love this Alfred who knows what he wants, and this England in denal who is, for once, not a tsundere but actually has good (if failed) motives for repressing his feelings and desires. This is why I'd love to see a bit more of Alfred torturing his caretaker before the sex, when Arthur can't take it anymoreXD
“You do, don’t you?” America pressed. England pulled away and glared down at him. “Why is my feelings for you so important, Alfred? You are my little brother, so of course I care about you. You want to be the centre of attention all the time, is that it?”
“Well no…” America looked away, blushing.
“I can’t constantly be around you, America. I have other things to see to,” England continued.
America stared at him, blue eyes glistening with the threat of tears. “Arthur…?”
England pulled him closer. “I’ll be here for as long as you need me, but you need to grow. I can’t smother you all the time.”
America buried his face in England’s chest, his ear against his ribcage so he could listen to his heartbeat. England stroked his hair, eyes closed contentedly as he started to drift to sleep.
America couldn’t help himself though. England so close to him, warming him with his presence, and the fact it was just he and England together…
“Alfred, what are you doing?” England frowned and America blushed, hugging the cushion closer.
“Nothing,” he lied, slowly sliding his hand out of his trousers, biting his lip.
England narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything more.
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England ground his teeth together as he managed to set America down on his bed without waking him, then stroked his head soothingly.
“Good night,” he murmured, kissing the top of his head, then left the room. He didn’t retire to his own bed, however. Instead he left the house for a bit, heading for the town.
America woke an hour after England returned, rubbing his face wearily and trying to work out how he’d gotten from the living room downstairs to his bedroom. He shrugged and left his room, heading straight for England’s whilst trying to make up a valid story that would allow him to share his caretaker’s bed again. He stopped outside the door, holding his breath as he heard the moaning coming from inside the room.
America stooped down to peer through the keyhole and bit his lip when he saw England on his hands and knees, a blonde male holding his hips as he pushed into him.
America’s heart skipped a beat, every moan or lustful murmur England made only turning him on even more. Deciding no-one was going to bother him, America loosened his pants and took his length in his hand, stroking it in time with England’s lover’s thrusts. America knew it was wrong to feel this way about his brotherly figure, and spying on him when in truth both of them should have been asleep in bed - alone.
But America didn’t care. All he cared about was dealing with his aching boner, and pleasuring himself to England’s moans.
By the time America released into his own hand, England and his partner were just finishing too - it was timed perfectly. America slid down against the door, his hand still wrapped around his member, and his free one running through his hair. He closed his eyes, panting for a bit as he listened to England talking to the male. It was clear from how formal they sounded when speaking that England had no feelings towards the man in his room, and most likely had hired him. And, just like before, America only wished that he’d been the one with England, not the male who’d likely never see him again after leaving the following morning.
England’s stays never lasted long, and both of them often wished they were longer, but there was nothing America could do or say to stop England from leaving yet again.
“Please don’t go,” the younger nation whispered as he hugged England good bye. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll be back before you know it,” England smiled, pinching his cheeks teasingly. “Grow up big and strong, ok?”
America nodded, and stuck out his chin bravely as England gathered up his things and headed down to the docks, his ship and crew awaiting him.
“Next time for sure,” America narrowed his eyes. “I’ll tell him just how I feel. Then he won’t leave me. Then I’ll be all that matters in his life.”
He continued grumbling to himself as he headed to the kitchen. “It’s not fair. I’m more important than any of his other colonies, and I love him more.”
America got himself a drink and sipped at it before ranting on some more as he put on his shoes and left the house, heading into town.
He kept his head down and walked through the crowds, who were busy going about their market business.
He caught a snag of a conversation between three men, and frowned, pausing and listening whilst trying not to look too conspicuous.
(Posting in two parts because of fail character limit.)
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“You can’t believe everything the townsfolk say, Mr. Brady,” another laughed. “There are many rumours about him, but I doubt half of them are true.”
“But haven’t you seen the way he looks at the young males?” The third man backed up the first. “It’s certainly not in a ‘normal’ way.”
“What about young America?” The second man frowned. “He doesn’t appear to feel much for him. I’m incredulous that this is more than a farce.”
The first shook his head firmly. “But haven’t you noticed? People say he likes blonde, blue-eyed boys. It won’t be long before he develops feelings for America, I bet you.”
America felt his heart skip a beat. Was what they were saying true?
“That’s nonsense,” the second man spat. “We all should leave the business of nations be, I say.”
America walked on again before the men could spot him, a smile spreading on his face. He wanted so badly for their words to be true, for England to possibly be developing feelings for him - America already knew how he felt about him, either way.
America lay in bed that night, mulling over what he’d heard the men saying earlier that day. He stared up at the ceiling, eyebrows knitted together in deep thought. In his mind he played the scenario over and over again - what he wished would happen - England murmuring his name as the made love, their bodies pressed together, sweat and saliva mixing, waves of pleasure rushing through them. America’s long darted out to lick his lips in anticipation as he stroked at his erection. Something inside him told him he had to stop this childish game before something went wrong, but the rest of his body was screaming at him to give in to his feelings. America put his head back, gritting his teeth as he pumped his hand up and down his shaft. It was a poor substitute for the real thing, but for America it would have to do.
He eventually released, thrusting into his hand, his chest heaving. His hand was sticky from his own seed, and he kept his fingers curled around his tip as he let himself calm down. When he was eventually settled and exhaustion crept over him, America turned onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut. The next time England visited, he’d tell him.
(Author!Anon hopes this is still ok...)
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“Arthur!” America grinned broadly. England smiled half-heartedly.
“I told you I’d come back,” he sighed and invited himself in, dumping his belongings down in the middle of the room and slumping down in a chair. America headed over to him, mouth hanging open slightly.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” He whined. England stared up at him, his eyes dark.
“I’m sorry, I’m just tired. The journey was a bit rough.”
America’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and he settled down next to England. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not at all, I’ve just not been sleeping well recently,” England forced a smile and America’s brows came together in concern.
“Can I give your shoulder’s a rub at all?” America suggested. England looked at him.
“No I’m quite alright, Alfred, don’t worry yourself,” England waved his hand dismissively. “How is that so-called ‘ghost’ of yours?”
America was glad to see England had his sarcastic humour back - he obviously wasn’t too tired to be able to tease. America didn’t answer though, and merely blushed.
That night America went to bed early, and stayed awake as he waited for England to retire too. When he opened the door to check on his younger brother, America pretended to be asleep, adding in snoring sounds for extra measures. England shrugged, smiled, and shut the door before heading to his own room. When America was sure the older nation was close to sleeping, he slipped out of bed and hurried to England’s room. He opened the door a crack and peered in.
“England?” He hissed. The other male didn’t answer so America stepped inside and crept over to the bed.
“Arthur, I had a bad dream,” he whispered, poking him sharply in the back. England groaned and rolled over, sitting up.
“Alfred you need to stop this. Go back to bed,” he ordered. America crawled onto the bed, huddling close to England.
“But I had a really scary bad dream.”
“Fine,” England folded his arms across his chest. “Just for tonight, you can stay here with me. But after that, no more wondering into my bed at all hours of night, ok?”
America nodded. “I promise I’ll be good, Arthur.”
England frowned then lay back down again, his back to America. The teen bit his lip, pulled the covers over himself and cuddled closer to his caretaker.
They lay in silence for a while, America pondering whether or not to shatter the peace. He wasn’t sure whether or not England was awake or not, so spoke anyway.
“England I have something to tell you,” he breathed. There came no response so America continued. “I…I think I love you.”
There was still no reply, so America stroked England’s arm to try and stir him. “Arthur did you hear me? I said I love you.”
England glanced over his shoulder at him. “Go to sleep, America.”
America looked away, frowning. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, Alfred, I did,” England snapped. “Now go to sleep.”
“Aren’t you going to reply?” America pressed. England sat up, running a hand through his hair.
“What do you expect me to say?” He murmured.
“That you love me too?” America smiled hopefully.
America’s eyes widened as England pressed his lips against his, kissing him firmly before pulling away, blushing.
“There,” the older nation sniffed. “Now go to sleep.”
America stared blankly ahead before smiling. “So you do like me.”
“Go to sleep, Alfred. I’m not going to ask you again,” England growled, turning away from the teen. America grinned smugly and settled down next to England, threading his arms around him. England didn't protest, so America nuzzled his neck, lying like that until he drifted off to sleep.
(Oh God don't kill me for the failness! *despair* )
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Thank you!
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He felt a great burden lifted off his chest since last night, and was now sure England felt the same way about his charge as America did himself.
As England stirred, slowly opening his eyes and flexing his fingers to wake them up, he frowned when he felt an arm round his waist and hot breath on the back of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder and frowned when he saw America there, clinging to him.
“What are you doing?” He raised a thick eyebrow and America grinned at him sheepishly. “Cuddling.”
England scratched his head as he sat up, staring around the room blankly.
“About last night-.” They said in unison and America blushed. “You first.”
England sighed. “Whatever happened last night, it doesn’t mean anything. I just wanted to shut you up and get some rest.”
“Sure it doesn’t,” America smiled knowingly and England narrowed his eyes.
“I mean it Alfred.”
America stared at him, head cocked slightly to the side. “I know you like me. And I know you like boys who are like me.”
England felt his heart in his throat, and he looked away, cheeks flushing pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard some of my citizens talking about you,” America crawled into his lap, his face oh-so close to his caretaker’s. “About how you like young boys.”
England ground his teeth together. “That’s nonsense. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
“And someone else told me that you like blonde, blue-eyed boys,” America continued, noticing how awkward England looked. “So I think that kiss did mean something, Arthur.”
England looked America in the eye, mouth set in a firm line. “You thought wrong.”
America couldn’t hide the fact that England’s stubborn denial hurt him. He pouted, not moving out of England’s lap, his blue eyes darkening.
“You taught me not to lie, Arthur,” America lifted his chin arrogantly. “You said it was wrong.”
“Liking young boys is wrong too,” England glared at him furiously. “Are you accusing me of being a gentleman with no morals?”
America thought for a moment before shrugging. “I know you meant something with that kiss. You shouldn’t be so afraid to admit your feelings for me. You said I was your favourite, after all.”
England shook his head firmly. “America, that’s enough,” he pushed the teen away, sighing exasperatedly. “Stop it.”
America huddled close to England again, burying his head in his neck. England’s eyebrows came together in concern and America exhaled shakily as he listened to the other nation’s heart beat, thudding against his ribcage.
“I can’t help myself, A-Arthur,” America stammered. “I love you.”
England took a deep breath and put one arm around America. “You’re my brother, America. You should know I love you too.”
“But not as a brother,” America corrected him. “I love you as something else.”
England felt his throat tightening with nerves, and he slowly started to shift away from his colony. “It’s getting late into the morning, Alfred. We should get some breakfast.”
America grinned up at him, his stomach rumbling on cue. “That sounds like a good idea.”
England breathed a sigh of relief as America left him to get breakfast ready. He’d been so close to giving in to him, to his indecent, silent requests. England shook his head sadly. Every teenager went through these ‘crushes’. It was a natural part of growing up. And in some cases, England knew some teens even had feelings for relatives. It was perfectly normal.
It was the same for his Alfred. It was a silly little crush he’d realise, soon, was utterly irrational, and give up on. He’d grow out of it.
Somewhere in the back of England’s mind, however, he doubted that was the case with America. The boy - yes, he was still a boy, not yet a man - was foolish and often let himself get carried away. He was also stubborn. If America believed he loved his father-figure, then he did.
England served up breakfast to his hungry, eager colony, who got stuck into it right away. He never took his eyes off America as he sat down to eat, gingerly poking the charcoaled food. He needed to talk sense into the boy, otherwise the feelings would just get more intense over time.
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Loved it!
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thank you both for your words of appreciation and encourgement! it means a lot to this first-time filler :)
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I drew u a picha~
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e110/Chocobosh/USUK.jpg
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Oh, wow! First fill, first art! It's a good picture! ^^ I SHALL continue now, with a volcano built and history assessments on the Industrial Revolution trampled into the ground! (don't ask..)
ReCaptcha: taticate feel.... wtf?
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“I need to talk to you…” England trailed off, looking away.
A smile grew on America’s face, and he shuffled forward in his seat to lean forwards against the table, head propped in hands. “About what?”
“You can’t love me,” England shook his head firmly and as America went to protest, held up his hand to silence him. “Not in that way.”
America stared at his feet. “I can’t help how I feel Arthur. I know you feel the same way, too.”
England’s eyes widened slightly, before they narrowed to slits. “No, Alfred, I don’t. I care about you, like a good brother should.”
America sulked, and made no effort to hide the fact. His arms folded across his chest, pouting, as he shot ‘evils’ at his caretaker across the table.
“Alfred, you’re at a table. Now sit up straight and behave,” England chided. “You’re not a child.”
America smirked, sitting up properly and wrinkling his nose. “Then don’t treat me like one.”
England shook his head in disbelief, picking up America’s empty plate and stacking it underneath his near-full one. He headed back to the kitchen and set them on the side, frowning as he turned around and saw America smiling at him, having followed him into the room.
“What?” England cleared his throat as he felt it grow tight with nerves.
America stepped closer to England and gingerly reached out a hand to stroke his cheek. England stared at it, horrified, and just as his colony’s fingers brushed his skin, he slapped them away harshly. His eyes burned furiously as he glared at America.
“And just what do you think you are doing?” England snapped.
America blushed and stepped closer again. “Kiss me again England, like you did last night.”
England skirted around him, but America blocked his path again quickly.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” America whined, his cheeks flushed and eyes flickering up and down England’s body.
“Because it’s immoral,” England lifted his chin defiantly and pushed him aside gently. America grabbed his arm, pulling him towards him. England felt his breath slip from him at the shear strength of the boy - no one was quite like his boy. He stared into America’s eyes, almost in a daze, before coming back to his senses as the teen pressed a kiss to his cheek.
England pushed against him, hissing at how wrong and lewd the act was, but other than that didn’t do a great deal to protest.
Whether or not America’s strength aided him, the teen basked in triumph at being able to kiss England again. His face smothered in sloppy, inexperienced kisses, England found himself leaning to kiss America back, reaching up to entangle his hands in his hair before using his experience and manoeuvrability to gain the upper hand, pulling his colony into his own arms.
“If you’re going to do this,” England frowned at the younger blonde. “At least do it properly, and put me in charge.”
American grinned enthusiastically and nibbled along England’s jaw line, sucking on the skin to bring out rosy love bites. England had to bite on his lip to keep himself from moaning at the blissfulness of it. For someone with little experience in the area, America was very good with his mouth. Seemed all the exercising it through talking non-stop paid off, after all.
Suddenly, America was shoved away, and stared at England as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and his face with his sleeve.
“No,” he said firmly after he’d finished rubbing away every last kiss America had set on him.
America glared back defiantly, but eventually gave in, lowering his gaze to the floor and shuffling away.
England felt his heart thudding against his ribcage, threatening to burst out. He couldn’t let the boy do this to him; ruin his reputation and make him an indecent fool. England was, after all, a genuine father-figure to him.
(Would OP prefer smut to follow? I am easy either way, so if you really want smut, feel free to request. My apologies if this is a fail update, Anon is just...failing at the moment tehe.)
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I really like this, authoranon. I love this Alfred who knows what he wants, and this England in denal who is, for once, not a tsundere but actually has good (if failed) motives for repressing his feelings and desires. This is why I'd love to see a bit more of Alfred torturing his caretaker before the sex, when Arthur can't take it anymoreXD
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