Re: Houseguest [5/???]
anonymous
October 2 2010, 22:22:59 UTC
England’s expression froze. “Dear, dear.” One hand methodically wiped the spit from his face. He wiped it on America’s shirt.
Then, he laughed. “You mustn’t do that. Here, I will do it for you.”
He planted an obscenely innocent kiss on his forehead and slipped his hands under the green wool, fabric gathering above his wrists as he slid his palms up over America’s nipples. That earned a gasp, and his host’s fingers scratched the wall even harder. England grasped his captive’s strong arms and lifted them, one by one, then lifted the sweater over the younger man’s head. In one motion, he yanked it off his arms and dropped it behind him to crumple on the carpet. England ran the backs of his fingers over America’s bare, flushed chest and smoothed his now mussed hair. The younger man hissed at the contact. The scarfed man murmured his approval.
America furrowed his brow, then whispered, “Where did my glasses go? They’re gone.” He squinted at England’s face. “I’d like to see you right now.”
“What? Oh. Just a moment,” sighed England. He turned and picked up the turtleneck, shaking it gently, and the glasses slipped out. England set them back on America’s face. “Sorry.”
“Nah. Happens all the time.”
“Really,” said England flatly. He rubbed his temples, coughed, and got back into character. “Can you see me now, little one?”
“I wish I couldn’t,” hissed America. “Hurry up.”
Smooth hands thumbed across his collarbone, making America’s brow furrow and his hands clench. “I’m enjoying the moment.” cooed England. “These opportunities don’t come often, do they? You are magnificent. What a pretty chest.” Suddenly, he pinched one of his ruddy nipples, rolling it between his fingers as it stiffened in his hands. America glowered up at him, but he whimpered and arched into the touch, knees suddenly weak. “Don’t look at me that way, Mr. Jones. Your body tells me how you feel. You cannot deceive me.” He giggled.
The tanned man squeezed his eyes short and jerked his head away. He clawed the wall and pressed against it, trying to stay upright. “It’s cold.”
“Oh, is that the problem?” hummed England, running his forefinger between toned pectorals, tracing the valley between muscles. “Then why is this hard, too?”
He squeezed his crotch. America whimpered and smacked the hand away, pushing past, losing his balance-- tripping onto the ground, twisting away from his assailant, sitting and covering his chest with his arms.
“I’m leaving,” he gasped. “I’m cold. Give me my shirt.”
England smirked and rolled the shivering man onto his back with his foot. “So you want to escape?” he said, grinning playfully, cold eyes sparkling. “No. Please take off your pants and spread your legs.”
“I don’t want to,” said America, crossing his legs and staring at a spot on the wall just behind England’s head. “I’ll talk to my boss. I’ll give you anything. Don’t do this.” England’s gaze turned harsh, but the smile remained. “Don’t look at me,” he gasped, closing his eyes. “Don’t look.”
“Do not worry. You are beautiful. Take them off.”
“But--” pleaded America.
“Off,” hissed England.
The towering man crouched next to him and closed America’s trembling fingers around the pull. America bit his lip and yanked it down.
Re: Houseguest [6/???]
anonymous
October 2 2010, 22:24:31 UTC
The rasp of the zipper echoed around the room. England guided the pants down America’s legs, revealing his slim hips, then strong thighs, then muscular calves. He pushed them to the side, leaving him in navy boxers that were suddenly too tight.
England tapped his smiling lips. “Those too. Do it yourself this time.”
America slipped his fingers under his waistband. England nodded. He slid off his last protection against England’s stare. His underwear slipped out of his hands onto the ground next to him.
“Good boy,” said England. He crouched next to the man shivering on the floor and grapsed his chin and thigh. “Your skin is soft.”
The nude man mewled.
England pursed his lips. “None of that, now.” The black-clad man wrapped his arms around him. “Is little one still cold? Is that the problem?”
America stayed silent.
England turned away and took his heavy greatcoat from the chair. Then, he bent over his shivering, sweating captive and dressed him like a doll-- threading one arm through a wool sleeve, then the other, ignoring America’s little noises of disgust and gratitude. England hummed in approval. “Warm, yes?” He made as if to fasten the coat, but decided to leave it open, expose America’s heaving chest to the cool air.
The coat was warm. It felt heavy, comforting-- deliciously wrong. His cock twitched. America clenched the lapels and hugged the coat around him, hiding himself, feeling its texture, reveling in the heat from the wool and his own flushed body.
“It suits you well. Perhaps you should join the Red Army.”
America glared up at him, cheeks burning.
“Mr. Jones? What is wrong?”
“I should have known,” hissed America. “I should have known you’d try this. In my own house, too. Do you have any shame at all?”
Silence hung in the air.
“Oh dear,” sighed England. His hand hovered next to the rotary phone on the desk. “I think I should tell someone about these mean things you say. Maybe the Premier?”
America clenched his teeth.
“No-- that can wait. Instead, I will call your boss-- I will tell him how cruel you are to guests.” England picked the phone up. “I will tell him about the fun we are having, too. Do you think he’ll be interested?” He smiled, eyes glassy, and began to dial.
Whirr-Clack. Whirr.
“Don’t--” snarled America. He imagined his bosses, looking down at England massaging his thighs, at the heat rising in his cheeks-- shaking their heads, so disappointed at this disgrace, this weakness-- He drew a rattling breath and released the lapels of the coat.
“Spread your legs,” said England.
Whirr-Clack. Whirr.
He squeezed his eyes shut. His heels scraped on the carpet and his knees drifted apart as the coat fell away from his aching length.
Re: Houseguest [7/???]
anonymous
October 2 2010, 22:25:28 UTC
England hung up, stepped between America’s knees, and stared at his trembling form. America’s hands came back to guard his chest slowly, weakly, but England found a pair of handcuffs in his briefcase. America’s lips trembled as his hands were locked together behind his back. “There,” hummed England. “That is that. You give in so easily. What a fuss you make about being invincible! But in reality, this is all you are.”
America peeked at England’s face. The scarfed man wore a cold grin, more like a skeleton than a human. He dropped his chin to his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips.
“So weak. How sad that this godlike body and face went to such a feeble child.” A pause. “Look at me.”
America gazed straight into England’s pale eyes. The corners of his mouth were now pulled up in a mockery of gentleness. His hands were doing something-- opening the briefcase, taking something out-- a small bottle and something long and metallic. A length of pipe. “You cannot take care of yourself, so I will take care of you. Okay?” Then, another whispered “Okay?”
America nodded, rasping “green.”
England gently pushed against America’s chest with the pipe, making his weakened body fall to the ground. He was immediately on top of him, kissing the inside of his thighs in a sweet, gentle way which made America’s vision cloud and throat knot. He gasped and got a long, sucking bite and a giggle in response. “I think I will take you home with me after the summit.”
He opened the little bottle of lube, polishing the end of his pipe with it while America stared, watching it grow slick and glisten, unbearably bright. “You would look so beautiful chained to my bed.”
Bracing himself against America’s strong, tanned thigh, he spread the twitching asshole before him with his fingers, then thrust his pipe inside-- twisting it, pumping it deeper and deeper inside, laughing as the prone man thrashed and squirmed around the cold, slippery metal. “So cute. You like this?”
“Ah--” The pipe pounded into his prostate-- his spine arched off the ground.
America could hear the ravenous grin in England’s voice. “Just think-- if you come back with me, when would come home you would be there, waiting, begging for me, making this erotic face-- and I would have you again and again until you leaked my cum. Does that sound nice?” He pulled it almost all the way out, then pushed it back hard with his palm.
Tears stung America’s eyes. He mewled.
“Oh, but it would be so hard to sneak you away....” mused England. He wrenched the pipe out, and America collapsed flat on the floor, gulping air.
The clothed man rose to his knees. Slowly, he unzipped his pants, smirking when his erection hit the sharp air, making America flinch. Then, he picked up the bottle of lube and poured a few shining drops of gel onto his fingers. He drew patterns on his cock, now spiraling around the tip, now dotting along the length, now tracing long parallel lines, now pausing to watch America’s hips buck with impatience. The smiling man murmured, “Didn’t you tell me not to look before?”
Re: Houseguest [8/???]
anonymous
October 2 2010, 22:28:43 UTC
“Oh god,” gasped America, “Please.” His wrists strained against the handcuffs, his knees jerked farther apart, the coat scratched against his nipples, and warm tears slid down his cheeks onto his neck and into his hair. England poured more lube directly onto his length and massaged it around until it seemed like glass, crystal or ice.
America ground his teeth and hissed. “God....”
England giggled into his scarf. “My, this is fun! If you could only see yourself.” He leaned over and plucked the glasses off America’s nose, then took a flower from the vase, twirling the stem between his fingers. “You are something like a sunflower. Both so fresh and innocent--” He dropped the bloom on America’s chest. “You are more beautiful, though.”
Golden petals tickled America’s cheek. He glanced up at England, but it was useless-- his vision was blurred, half by tears, making that face impossible to see. He tried to speak, but only a weak rasp came out.
He could feel his hips being lifted to England’s crotch, feel the heat, even though all he could see was the brown and gold next to him, spiraling rods, hypnotizing him, radiating light-- England’s cock entered him, sliding in easily with a soft squelching noise, making him cry out with a strangled sob.
First the thrusts were soft and controlled-- America’s hips bucked in England’s arms, failing to get more friction-- then they grew faster, harder, pounding against his prostate until spots filled his eyes and tears fell thick and fast, wetting the sunflower’s shining petals, making his cheeks glisten, until England gave one final thrust and filled him with stickiness-- then he came, with a shudder and a wild yell.
England yanked himself out. America felt clammy cloth wipe cum from his stomach and heard a gentle laugh.
He saw the outline of the suited man stand, zip his pants, and calmly walk out of the room. “Goodbye, little one. I am feeling much better now.”
Re: Houseguest [9/9]
anonymous
October 2 2010, 22:30:05 UTC
The door closed behind him.
America took a rattling breath.
He pulled himself into a seated position. Then, he dragged his knees to his chest and brought the flower to his nose, breathing in its weak scent.
England came back, his boots off, standing at his normal height. “You didn’t put up much of a fight, did you?”
“England!” whined America, “You’re supposed to leave me here longer! So I can marinate in shame and stuff!”
The British man sighed and sat next to him. “Come here, your face is wet.”
“Wet with tears of passion.” America fell into England’s lap. “I’m still shaking. That was really awesome.”
“It sure was. Up.” England gathered America’s limp body into his arms and cuddled it into his chest, wiping salty drops away with the scarf.
America nuzzled into it. “See? You make an amazing Russia! Have faith in yourself!”
“Thank you. Did you like the contacts?”
“Hell yeah. Do you really think my body’s godlike?”
“Well, you’re muscular,” mumbled England, and patted his lover’s back.
“Love you, baby.”
“Love you too,” said England. “What are your plans for today?”
“Let you fuck me-- that’s done-- then pick up my drycleaning.” America picked at the coat. “Speaking of which-- I am not looking forward to getting this done. The people at the usual place keep giving me these dirty looks whenever I bring the Nazi uniform in. This is not going to help.”
“Tell them you run a museum.”
“I guess it’s true, kinda,” America said, laughing a bit.
“Kind of?” scoffed England. “You pulled out bellbottoms and a rotary phone for this. A rotary phone!”
“Don’t complain. It added to the realism.” America’s voice grew soft.
England stroked America’s hair. “Tired?”
“No,” said America, stifling a yawn.
“Do you want to go next door and get some sleep?”
“... Yes.”
“Get up.”
“Help me.”
England slung America’s arms over his shoulders and walked him to the guest room, where they slept for the next two hours.
-- One fewer part than last time! Is that good or bad? All I know is that I'm writing some fluff next. "OTL
Re: Houseguest [9/9]
anonymous
October 3 2010, 02:22:45 UTC
I have to agree with the above-anon...I read this one before the Germany role-play, but they are both SO delicious and wonderful and I'm running out of adjectives.
I think what made both of them, though, was the safe practice that America and England were using. I loved the lights and I loved the endings where they come back together as themselves and have sweet moments.
Re: Houseguest [9/9]
anonymous
October 3 2010, 18:57:02 UTC
Oh dear. I so loved the German roleplay, and now this... I have to say, I simply don't like AmeRu, but this roleplay... Geez. So hot. I wish you could write every kink they could have - I mean, it would be totally funny to write a serie of kinks. Imagine, America pretending he's Canada or FRANCE, and England pretending to be, like, Japan. I'd die of nosebleeding.
Re: Houseguest [Bonus]
anonymous
October 4 2010, 01:41:06 UTC
As fun as it would be to write everything, I don't think I have the time. (But Japan is really, really tempting.)
Have some hastily-written silliness instead!
--
CANADA
“Uh, America?”
“Who-- Oh, hey, didn’t see you there.”
“Um, I’ve been hearing rumors....”
“‘Bout what?”
“Your sex life.”
“Oh! Er-- Wait-- Who--?”
“Listen. I won’t stop you, but I’m off limits.”
America opened his mouth to say yes, but then his eyes grew big, and he put his hand to his lips in thought. “Hey, wait....”
Canada sighed in resignation. “Put me on top.”
CHINA
England picked up his chopsticks and positioned them above a pork dumpling.
“I am afraid that your trade policies are unsatisfactory.”
He picked up the dumpling. It slipped through the sticks.
“Are--”
He tried again. It rose another inch before dropping on the plate again.
“Are--”
Again. Plop.
“Do you need a fork, Yao?”
“Stop grinning, Mr. Jones.”
FRANCE
America looked at himself in the mirror, holding the phone between his neck and shoulder.
“Are you wearing the wig?”
“Yeah, but-- I can’t take myself seriously. At all.” He blew a kiss at the mirror and laughed.
“Are you wearing the uniform?”
“I am! It’s not helping! It looks awesome with the wig off, but....”
“Just think Napoleon.”
“I’ll try.” America held a rose to his lips and wiggled his eyebrows at himself. “Bonjour.”
“Maybe if you stopped making stupid expressions at yourself?”
“Yeah, that might be the trick.”
ANCIENT ROME
“Oh god,” said England, “I just realized how expensive this is going to be.”
“You underestimate my Hollywood connections, baby,” said America, winking.
JAPAN
England showed the simple brown package to America. “He said it’s for both of us.”
America shrugged and smiled. “Awesome. Open ‘er up.”
England did so. He took out a beautiful formal black silk kimono, all the necessary accessories (including a white loincloth), and something black and shiny.
“It’s a wig,” said America, modeling it on his hand. “And there’s a note.”
It read: “Please consider this my permission. Have fun.”
The two stared at each other for a moment.
America spoke first. “Okay, how does everyone know what we do in the bedroom? And how do you thank someone for something like this?”
“I have no clue.” England stroked the smooth black fabric. “But it would be a shame to waste this opportunity.”
Then, he laughed. “You mustn’t do that. Here, I will do it for you.”
He planted an obscenely innocent kiss on his forehead and slipped his hands under the green wool, fabric gathering above his wrists as he slid his palms up over America’s nipples. That earned a gasp, and his host’s fingers scratched the wall even harder. England grasped his captive’s strong arms and lifted them, one by one, then lifted the sweater over the younger man’s head. In one motion, he yanked it off his arms and dropped it behind him to crumple on the carpet. England ran the backs of his fingers over America’s bare, flushed chest and smoothed his now mussed hair. The younger man hissed at the contact. The scarfed man murmured his approval.
America furrowed his brow, then whispered, “Where did my glasses go? They’re gone.” He squinted at England’s face. “I’d like to see you right now.”
“What? Oh. Just a moment,” sighed England. He turned and picked up the turtleneck, shaking it gently, and the glasses slipped out. England set them back on America’s face. “Sorry.”
“Nah. Happens all the time.”
“Really,” said England flatly. He rubbed his temples, coughed, and got back into character. “Can you see me now, little one?”
“I wish I couldn’t,” hissed America. “Hurry up.”
Smooth hands thumbed across his collarbone, making America’s brow furrow and his hands clench. “I’m enjoying the moment.” cooed England. “These opportunities don’t come often, do they? You are magnificent. What a pretty chest.” Suddenly, he pinched one of his ruddy nipples, rolling it between his fingers as it stiffened in his hands. America glowered up at him, but he whimpered and arched into the touch, knees suddenly weak. “Don’t look at me that way, Mr. Jones. Your body tells me how you feel. You cannot deceive me.” He giggled.
The tanned man squeezed his eyes short and jerked his head away. He clawed the wall and pressed against it, trying to stay upright. “It’s cold.”
“Oh, is that the problem?” hummed England, running his forefinger between toned pectorals, tracing the valley between muscles. “Then why is this hard, too?”
He squeezed his crotch. America whimpered and smacked the hand away, pushing past, losing his balance-- tripping onto the ground, twisting away from his assailant, sitting and covering his chest with his arms.
“I’m leaving,” he gasped. “I’m cold. Give me my shirt.”
England smirked and rolled the shivering man onto his back with his foot. “So you want to escape?” he said, grinning playfully, cold eyes sparkling. “No. Please take off your pants and spread your legs.”
“I don’t want to,” said America, crossing his legs and staring at a spot on the wall just behind England’s head. “I’ll talk to my boss. I’ll give you anything. Don’t do this.” England’s gaze turned harsh, but the smile remained. “Don’t look at me,” he gasped, closing his eyes. “Don’t look.”
“Do not worry. You are beautiful. Take them off.”
“But--” pleaded America.
“Off,” hissed England.
The towering man crouched next to him and closed America’s trembling fingers around the pull. America bit his lip and yanked it down.
Reply
England tapped his smiling lips. “Those too. Do it yourself this time.”
America slipped his fingers under his waistband. England nodded. He slid off his last protection against England’s stare. His underwear slipped out of his hands onto the ground next to him.
“Good boy,” said England. He crouched next to the man shivering on the floor and grapsed his chin and thigh. “Your skin is soft.”
The nude man mewled.
England pursed his lips. “None of that, now.” The black-clad man wrapped his arms around him. “Is little one still cold? Is that the problem?”
America stayed silent.
England turned away and took his heavy greatcoat from the chair. Then, he bent over his shivering, sweating captive and dressed him like a doll-- threading one arm through a wool sleeve, then the other, ignoring America’s little noises of disgust and gratitude. England hummed in approval. “Warm, yes?” He made as if to fasten the coat, but decided to leave it open, expose America’s heaving chest to the cool air.
The coat was warm. It felt heavy, comforting-- deliciously wrong. His cock twitched. America clenched the lapels and hugged the coat around him, hiding himself, feeling its texture, reveling in the heat from the wool and his own flushed body.
“It suits you well. Perhaps you should join the Red Army.”
America glared up at him, cheeks burning.
“Mr. Jones? What is wrong?”
“I should have known,” hissed America. “I should have known you’d try this. In my own house, too. Do you have any shame at all?”
Silence hung in the air.
“Oh dear,” sighed England. His hand hovered next to the rotary phone on the desk. “I think I should tell someone about these mean things you say. Maybe the Premier?”
America clenched his teeth.
“No-- that can wait. Instead, I will call your boss-- I will tell him how cruel you are to guests.” England picked the phone up. “I will tell him about the fun we are having, too. Do you think he’ll be interested?” He smiled, eyes glassy, and began to dial.
Whirr-Clack. Whirr.
“Don’t--” snarled America. He imagined his bosses, looking down at England massaging his thighs, at the heat rising in his cheeks-- shaking their heads, so disappointed at this disgrace, this weakness-- He drew a rattling breath and released the lapels of the coat.
“Spread your legs,” said England.
Whirr-Clack. Whirr.
He squeezed his eyes shut. His heels scraped on the carpet and his knees drifted apart as the coat fell away from his aching length.
Reply
America peeked at England’s face. The scarfed man wore a cold grin, more like a skeleton than a human. He dropped his chin to his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips.
“So weak. How sad that this godlike body and face went to such a feeble child.” A pause. “Look at me.”
America gazed straight into England’s pale eyes. The corners of his mouth were now pulled up in a mockery of gentleness. His hands were doing something-- opening the briefcase, taking something out-- a small bottle and something long and metallic. A length of pipe. “You cannot take care of yourself, so I will take care of you. Okay?” Then, another whispered “Okay?”
America nodded, rasping “green.”
England gently pushed against America’s chest with the pipe, making his weakened body fall to the ground. He was immediately on top of him, kissing the inside of his thighs in a sweet, gentle way which made America’s vision cloud and throat knot. He gasped and got a long, sucking bite and a giggle in response. “I think I will take you home with me after the summit.”
He opened the little bottle of lube, polishing the end of his pipe with it while America stared, watching it grow slick and glisten, unbearably bright. “You would look so beautiful chained to my bed.”
Bracing himself against America’s strong, tanned thigh, he spread the twitching asshole before him with his fingers, then thrust his pipe inside-- twisting it, pumping it deeper and deeper inside, laughing as the prone man thrashed and squirmed around the cold, slippery metal. “So cute. You like this?”
“Ah--” The pipe pounded into his prostate-- his spine arched off the ground.
America could hear the ravenous grin in England’s voice. “Just think-- if you come back with me, when would come home you would be there, waiting, begging for me, making this erotic face-- and I would have you again and again until you leaked my cum. Does that sound nice?” He pulled it almost all the way out, then pushed it back hard with his palm.
Tears stung America’s eyes. He mewled.
“Oh, but it would be so hard to sneak you away....” mused England. He wrenched the pipe out, and America collapsed flat on the floor, gulping air.
The clothed man rose to his knees. Slowly, he unzipped his pants, smirking when his erection hit the sharp air, making America flinch. Then, he picked up the bottle of lube and poured a few shining drops of gel onto his fingers. He drew patterns on his cock, now spiraling around the tip, now dotting along the length, now tracing long parallel lines, now pausing to watch America’s hips buck with impatience. The smiling man murmured, “Didn’t you tell me not to look before?”
Reply
America ground his teeth and hissed. “God....”
England giggled into his scarf. “My, this is fun! If you could only see yourself.” He leaned over and plucked the glasses off America’s nose, then took a flower from the vase, twirling the stem between his fingers. “You are something like a sunflower. Both so fresh and innocent--” He dropped the bloom on America’s chest. “You are more beautiful, though.”
Golden petals tickled America’s cheek. He glanced up at England, but it was useless-- his vision was blurred, half by tears, making that face impossible to see. He tried to speak, but only a weak rasp came out.
He could feel his hips being lifted to England’s crotch, feel the heat, even though all he could see was the brown and gold next to him, spiraling rods, hypnotizing him, radiating light-- England’s cock entered him, sliding in easily with a soft squelching noise, making him cry out with a strangled sob.
First the thrusts were soft and controlled-- America’s hips bucked in England’s arms, failing to get more friction-- then they grew faster, harder, pounding against his prostate until spots filled his eyes and tears fell thick and fast, wetting the sunflower’s shining petals, making his cheeks glisten, until England gave one final thrust and filled him with stickiness-- then he came, with a shudder and a wild yell.
England yanked himself out. America felt clammy cloth wipe cum from his stomach and heard a gentle laugh.
He saw the outline of the suited man stand, zip his pants, and calmly walk out of the room. “Goodbye, little one. I am feeling much better now.”
Reply
America took a rattling breath.
He pulled himself into a seated position. Then, he dragged his knees to his chest and brought the flower to his nose, breathing in its weak scent.
England came back, his boots off, standing at his normal height. “You didn’t put up much of a fight, did you?”
“England!” whined America, “You’re supposed to leave me here longer! So I can marinate in shame and stuff!”
The British man sighed and sat next to him. “Come here, your face is wet.”
“Wet with tears of passion.” America fell into England’s lap. “I’m still shaking. That was really awesome.”
“It sure was. Up.” England gathered America’s limp body into his arms and cuddled it into his chest, wiping salty drops away with the scarf.
America nuzzled into it. “See? You make an amazing Russia! Have faith in yourself!”
“Thank you. Did you like the contacts?”
“Hell yeah. Do you really think my body’s godlike?”
“Well, you’re muscular,” mumbled England, and patted his lover’s back.
“Love you, baby.”
“Love you too,” said England. “What are your plans for today?”
“Let you fuck me-- that’s done-- then pick up my drycleaning.” America picked at the coat. “Speaking of which-- I am not looking forward to getting this done. The people at the usual place keep giving me these dirty looks whenever I bring the Nazi uniform in. This is not going to help.”
“Tell them you run a museum.”
“I guess it’s true, kinda,” America said, laughing a bit.
“Kind of?” scoffed England. “You pulled out bellbottoms and a rotary phone for this. A rotary phone!”
“Don’t complain. It added to the realism.” America’s voice grew soft.
England stroked America’s hair. “Tired?”
“No,” said America, stifling a yawn.
“Do you want to go next door and get some sleep?”
“... Yes.”
“Get up.”
“Help me.”
England slung America’s arms over his shoulders and walked him to the guest room, where they slept for the next two hours.
--
One fewer part than last time! Is that good or bad? All I know is that I'm writing some fluff next. "OTL
I hope you enjoyed!
Reply
I think what made both of them, though, was the safe practice that America and England were using. I loved the lights and I loved the endings where they come back together as themselves and have sweet moments.
<3 <3 <3 Endless love.
Reply
Endless love right back at ya. <3 <3 <3
Reply
Reply
Have some hastily-written silliness instead!
--
CANADA
“Uh, America?”
“Who-- Oh, hey, didn’t see you there.”
“Um, I’ve been hearing rumors....”
“‘Bout what?”
“Your sex life.”
“Oh! Er-- Wait-- Who--?”
“Listen. I won’t stop you, but I’m off limits.”
America opened his mouth to say yes, but then his eyes grew big, and he put his hand to his lips in thought. “Hey, wait....”
Canada sighed in resignation. “Put me on top.”
CHINA
England picked up his chopsticks and positioned them above a pork dumpling.
“I am afraid that your trade policies are unsatisfactory.”
He picked up the dumpling. It slipped through the sticks.
“Are--”
He tried again. It rose another inch before dropping on the plate again.
“Are--”
Again. Plop.
“Do you need a fork, Yao?”
“Stop grinning, Mr. Jones.”
FRANCE
America looked at himself in the mirror, holding the phone between his neck and shoulder.
“Are you wearing the wig?”
“Yeah, but-- I can’t take myself seriously. At all.” He blew a kiss at the mirror and laughed.
“Are you wearing the uniform?”
“I am! It’s not helping! It looks awesome with the wig off, but....”
“Just think Napoleon.”
“I’ll try.” America held a rose to his lips and wiggled his eyebrows at himself. “Bonjour.”
“Maybe if you stopped making stupid expressions at yourself?”
“Yeah, that might be the trick.”
ANCIENT ROME
“Oh god,” said England, “I just realized how expensive this is going to be.”
“You underestimate my Hollywood connections, baby,” said America, winking.
JAPAN
England showed the simple brown package to America. “He said it’s for both of us.”
America shrugged and smiled. “Awesome. Open ‘er up.”
England did so. He took out a beautiful formal black silk kimono, all the necessary accessories (including a white loincloth), and something black and shiny.
“It’s a wig,” said America, modeling it on his hand. “And there’s a note.”
It read: “Please consider this my permission. Have fun.”
The two stared at each other for a moment.
America spoke first. “Okay, how does everyone know what we do in the bedroom? And how do you thank someone for something like this?”
“I have no clue.” England stroked the smooth black fabric. “But it would be a shame to waste this opportunity.”
ITALY
“Hey, Italy....” said America.
Germany stepped between them. “No.”
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omg...
Germany protecting Italy's virtue...
I...I love you~
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<3 <3 <3
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(You have to admit-- out of all the countries that aren't France, Japan is most likely to approve. ;P
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