Re: America/fem!Canada Cherry Pie 10a/?
anonymous
September 2 2010, 01:50:09 UTC
He didn’t so much as look in her direction for the remaining seven minutes -fuck yes he was counting- to this particular dwelling of his. Cambridge avenue was quiet yet completely accepting of late night noise. He saw a few of his neighbors sitting on the porch diagonal across the street when he finally pulled in front of his own house. He could imagine the curtain pulling back on the window of old Miss Bonnie’s living room down the road like it usually did when he rolled up late blaring old metal. As he got out, Gabriel across the street shouted out “Yo Al! Give you five for yo ride, man!”
“Man, I told yo broke ass it ain’t for sale!” he yelled back with a grin as Canada also got out. She grimaced at the stickiness between her thighs. Damn, and here I used to think women didn’t have this problem. “Can’t talk now!” America continued with a smirk. “You hear anything, don’t you dare call the fucking cops!” He punctuated that with a smack to her ass walking around the car. The two neighbors laughed and Canada rolled her eyes as she tugged the hopelessly short skirt down again. “Pig,” she muttered under her breath. “Oink oink,” she heard him snicker behind her as she started up the stairs.
The wide concrete steps up the porch were careworn but in good shape as Canada walked up them. She was amazed all the crap was still there since America never bolted any of it down. A jacked up car that could’ve been the impala’s twin drove past blaring some sort of amped up gangsta rap hood shit and it reminded Canada why America said that he kept a house here. He felt at home in every part of his country but especially here were everyone was “normal” as he put it: where no one gave two shits about his lawn being perfectly manicured or setting off fireworks in the middle of the street on the fourth. “And can you believe they were gonna arrest them? I mean really, getting arrested on the fourth of July for setting off fireworks? Fire hazard my ass.” he’d said the day after the near riot he almost single handedly caused.
America was quick to join her, taking two steps after glancing at the state of the flower beds in front. “Got some flowers growing up through these weeds,” Miss Bonnie had said last week with that disapproving expression perfected by elderly women everywhere as if she weren’t the only one who even gave a damn. Well hell he wasn’t home all the time they knew that; course they all swore he was dealing drugs or some shit and Miss Karen always lamented about “a good boy like him getting messed up in that nonsense.” Jeez he couldn’t exactly tell them what he really did for a living.
He fumbled with the keys before opening the massive red door. He loved that this neighborhood was full of bright colors. His own house rather resembled a can of coca cola in color scheme. Across the street was a can of Sprite. England had dramatically shielded his eyes the last time he was over this particular dwelling and had merely gotten a “God Bless America, right?” in response. America heard sirens in the distance and really felt at home. “Looks like the man’s out tonight, Mattie,” he commented as the door swung open and he turned the alarm off in the large entryway. “Al, you’re the last person alive that needs to be talking about ‘the man’…” Canada mumbled before bending at the waist to unbuckle the ankle strap of her shoe.
She had only just brushed the buckle with her fingers when she heard the door shut loudly and felt America’s fingers tangling in her hair painfully and wonderfully. He pulled her upright and then released his grip just long enough to slam her shoulders back against the floral wallpaper. Like the other nations America was close with, England had been asked to decorate a room in this particular house; he had the entryway since it was the smallest non bathroom area he could frufru up. Canada looked at America breathless: caught off guard but not surprised. She merely licked her lips and inclined her head. “Wells that’s-”
Re: America/fem!Canada Cherry Pie 10b/?
anonymous
September 2 2010, 01:50:55 UTC
His mouth was on hers before she could finish speaking their bodies flush against the wall. He kissed her with bruising force and she returned it with equal enthusiasm. Their glasses clinked and banged but remained intact if slightly askew. He tasted her lipstick, the odd chemical candy taste coating his mouth as he ravaged hers. Canada put her arms around him threading her long fingers through his sweat dampened hair as she pressed back against him. Her tongue swirled and pushed against his and their teeth hit more than a few times. She wasn’t going to come up for breath even as she tasted the coppery tang of blood. Neither of them knew whose mouth it was from. She breathed out into his mouth and the two of them wetly exchanged the same stale carbon like they were the last inhabitants of a dying world and saw spots dancing before their eyes.
“Man, I told yo broke ass it ain’t for sale!” he yelled back with a grin as Canada also got out. She grimaced at the stickiness between her thighs. Damn, and here I used to think women didn’t have this problem. “Can’t talk now!” America continued with a smirk. “You hear anything, don’t you dare call the fucking cops!” He punctuated that with a smack to her ass walking around the car. The two neighbors laughed and Canada rolled her eyes as she tugged the hopelessly short skirt down again.
“Pig,” she muttered under her breath.
“Oink oink,” she heard him snicker behind her as she started up the stairs.
The wide concrete steps up the porch were careworn but in good shape as Canada walked up them. She was amazed all the crap was still there since America never bolted any of it down. A jacked up car that could’ve been the impala’s twin drove past blaring some sort of amped up gangsta rap hood shit and it reminded Canada why America said that he kept a house here. He felt at home in every part of his country but especially here were everyone was “normal” as he put it: where no one gave two shits about his lawn being perfectly manicured or setting off fireworks in the middle of the street on the fourth.
“And can you believe they were gonna arrest them? I mean really, getting arrested on the fourth of July for setting off fireworks? Fire hazard my ass.” he’d said the day after the near riot he almost single handedly caused.
America was quick to join her, taking two steps after glancing at the state of the flower beds in front.
“Got some flowers growing up through these weeds,” Miss Bonnie had said last week with that disapproving expression perfected by elderly women everywhere as if she weren’t the only one who even gave a damn. Well hell he wasn’t home all the time they knew that; course they all swore he was dealing drugs or some shit and Miss Karen always lamented about “a good boy like him getting messed up in that nonsense.” Jeez he couldn’t exactly tell them what he really did for a living.
He fumbled with the keys before opening the massive red door. He loved that this neighborhood was full of bright colors. His own house rather resembled a can of coca cola in color scheme. Across the street was a can of Sprite. England had dramatically shielded his eyes the last time he was over this particular dwelling and had merely gotten a “God Bless America, right?” in response. America heard sirens in the distance and really felt at home.
“Looks like the man’s out tonight, Mattie,” he commented as the door swung open and he turned the alarm off in the large entryway.
“Al, you’re the last person alive that needs to be talking about ‘the man’…” Canada mumbled before bending at the waist to unbuckle the ankle strap of her shoe.
She had only just brushed the buckle with her fingers when she heard the door shut loudly and felt America’s fingers tangling in her hair painfully and wonderfully. He pulled her upright and then released his grip just long enough to slam her shoulders back against the floral wallpaper. Like the other nations America was close with, England had been asked to decorate a room in this particular house; he had the entryway since it was the smallest non bathroom area he could frufru up. Canada looked at America breathless: caught off guard but not surprised. She merely licked her lips and inclined her head.
“Wells that’s-”
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