With a Cherry on top [5/?]
anonymous
September 20 2010, 21:31:05 UTC
A/N: ...at this point I should probably just admit to myself I have food kink :X Warnings: Fighting, use of food, rude behaviour, dominant England - pure smut and rampant OOCness. Sorry.
“Not quite.” England said lowly as he pulled away enough to stare down at the other country. His fists clenched against the couch cushion and he shifted his hips very slowly and roughly against America’s unclothed ones as he spoke. “What was it you were shouting at me earlier? …Hurry up, England. Eat it, England…?”
“Y-you’re still on about that?” The United States’ groaned as the UK reached between them and grabbed his hardness again. Apparently he wasn’t completely undone yet though, because the bespectacled nation still had enough cheek to grin glibly. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Engwand.”
“You little -” The Brit’s impressive eyebrows clashed together in a provoked action, and he gave America a particularly unruly squeeze. America jerked in response and quickly leaned up to plant a hard kiss on the former empire’s mouth. The land of the free slid his hands down England’s back and groped his ass.
England’s face flared hot and he pushed away in irritation. The island nation rubbed at his bottom lip with the back of his hand and tried to will away the fierce blush on his cheeks with a stern expression. “Now we’re going to play by my rules, America. Strip.”
Britain gave the younger nation’s cock a tug, and then let completely go, sitting up and away expectantly.
The USA’s eyes widened and he looked like he was thoroughly cursing himself inside - probably because the large nation had never so quickly in his life, since independence, hastened to follow through on something England wanted him to do.
America kicked the denims that had been tangled around his ankles off and yanked his flimsy tee up around his head. He accidentally tore it part-way through the motion, but didn’t mind - just settling on ripping the now useless thing off.
It floated to the ground, and England raised an eyebrow, letting his green eyes linger appreciatively down the expanse of developed land.
The Brit didn’t have long to look, however, before insistent calloused fingers knocked into his chest and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Fast, aren’t you?” England glanced up and met America’s gaze curiously. America’s replying smile bordered on genuine (if still a little grimaced) as if to say; ‘Don’t make me admit anything’.
The superpower tore open the shirt the rest of way and bowed his head, quickly kissing the flushed chest and nipples.
“Bloody wanker!” UK gasped, though he was too aroused to protest.
“Wanking. Yeah. Let’s do more of that.”
England was far past the boundary into no man’s land, and didn’t hasten to shed his other articles of clothing. As soon as his trousers and pants came down though, America wasted no time in dumping the rest of the bowl of whipped cream and sprinkles onto England’s Big Ben.
“America you shit! Shite that’s cold!!” The Brit exclaimed, squirming in the alternating sensations of warm and cool.
“Was that against your rules? My bad.” America looked entirely too smug. England grabbed a thick patch of dark blond hair in his fist and dragged the States in for a reprimanding kiss that was more of a bite, making America moan in rebuked annoyance.
“You’re going to clean up the mess you made.” England whispered crisply, and used the fist in America’s hair to make the other nation nod. “Turn around. And suck me.”
America shivered and blushed angrily. “You’re sick.” But he turned around anyway.
England lay down and soon America was on all fours over him on the couch.
A dollop of the cool dessert fell onto England’s cheek near his mouth and then a smaller one went into his hair as America shifted above him. It was like he was already getting cummed on. UK swiped at the sugar with his tongue, but it was a futile effort trying to reach it. The Brit gave up and instead turned his attention to the hard cock above his face.
Warnings: Fighting, use of food, rude behaviour, dominant England - pure smut and rampant OOCness. Sorry.
“Not quite.” England said lowly as he pulled away enough to stare down at the other country. His fists clenched against the couch cushion and he shifted his hips very slowly and roughly against America’s unclothed ones as he spoke. “What was it you were shouting at me earlier? …Hurry up, England. Eat it, England…?”
“Y-you’re still on about that?” The United States’ groaned as the UK reached between them and grabbed his hardness again. Apparently he wasn’t completely undone yet though, because the bespectacled nation still had enough cheek to grin glibly. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Engwand.”
“You little -” The Brit’s impressive eyebrows clashed together in a provoked action, and he gave America a particularly unruly squeeze. America jerked in response and quickly leaned up to plant a hard kiss on the former empire’s mouth. The land of the free slid his hands down England’s back and groped his ass.
England’s face flared hot and he pushed away in irritation. The island nation rubbed at his bottom lip with the back of his hand and tried to will away the fierce blush on his cheeks with a stern expression. “Now we’re going to play by my rules, America. Strip.”
Britain gave the younger nation’s cock a tug, and then let completely go, sitting up and away expectantly.
The USA’s eyes widened and he looked like he was thoroughly cursing himself inside - probably because the large nation had never so quickly in his life, since independence, hastened to follow through on something England wanted him to do.
America kicked the denims that had been tangled around his ankles off and yanked his flimsy tee up around his head. He accidentally tore it part-way through the motion, but didn’t mind - just settling on ripping the now useless thing off.
It floated to the ground, and England raised an eyebrow, letting his green eyes linger appreciatively down the expanse of developed land.
The Brit didn’t have long to look, however, before insistent calloused fingers knocked into his chest and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Fast, aren’t you?” England glanced up and met America’s gaze curiously. America’s replying smile bordered on genuine (if still a little grimaced) as if to say; ‘Don’t make me admit anything’.
The superpower tore open the shirt the rest of way and bowed his head, quickly kissing the flushed chest and nipples.
“Bloody wanker!” UK gasped, though he was too aroused to protest.
“Wanking. Yeah. Let’s do more of that.”
England was far past the boundary into no man’s land, and didn’t hasten to shed his other articles of clothing. As soon as his trousers and pants came down though, America wasted no time in dumping the rest of the bowl of whipped cream and sprinkles onto England’s Big Ben.
“America you shit! Shite that’s cold!!” The Brit exclaimed, squirming in the alternating sensations of warm and cool.
“Was that against your rules? My bad.” America looked entirely too smug. England grabbed a thick patch of dark blond hair in his fist and dragged the States in for a reprimanding kiss that was more of a bite, making America moan in rebuked annoyance.
“You’re going to clean up the mess you made.” England whispered crisply, and used the fist in America’s hair to make the other nation nod. “Turn around. And suck me.”
America shivered and blushed angrily. “You’re sick.” But he turned around anyway.
England lay down and soon America was on all fours over him on the couch.
A dollop of the cool dessert fell onto England’s cheek near his mouth and then a smaller one went into his hair as America shifted above him. It was like he was already getting cummed on. UK swiped at the sugar with his tongue, but it was a futile effort trying to reach it. The Brit gave up and instead turned his attention to the hard cock above his face.
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