The Other Side 2a/3?
anonymous
November 2 2010, 00:31:44 UTC
Sequel for The Other Side. Or, rather, second chapter, to save me from giving it a new title. XD More focus on FrUK this time around.
Another dull evening. That particular night found England with his nose in the volume of English literature he had packed for the trip, and France enjoying a glass of red wine by the window.
The memory of their voyeuristic adventure last night seemed almost like a dream. After the morning's confrontation, they had assumed... well, one should never assume. Russia was nowhere to be found, and America was watching a movie with his brother. The only sound that came from the room next door was his occasional loud laughter. If they scooted closer to the wall separating them, they might also hear the movie itself, or Canada's softer voice. But that wasn't exactly worth spying on.
“So...” England carefully tucked his bookmark into the heavy tome and snapped it closed. “I guess you were wrong.”
France wrinkled his nose. “I suppose I misjudged how embarrassed he would be. After last night, I figured... well, you can't blame moi for his puritan upbringing.”
“This is awful,” England groaned. “We're basing our love life on the love life of another couple.”
“Could that even be called a couple?” France set his empty glass aside. “Or a love life?”
“Whatever you call it, we should be able to enjoy ourselves alone!”
“We should.” Elbow on the table, France rested his face on his hand. “We definitely should. We don't need Amérique and Russie for our own fun.”
“Right!” England said, but made no move from his chair.
They remained in awkward silence for a few moments.
“We could give Russia a call...?” England said. Yes, that would go over well. Hi, Russia! Say, you know the sweet little boy I raised? Would you come over and molest him some more so I can get off? Thanks so much. “Or not.”
A slow smile spread across France's face. “I know another way to bring them here.”
“Open bar?”
“Better.” France stood from his chair, shedding clothes-something he was the master of-as he went.
“It involves you being naked?” England said.
“Doesn't everything? Just be patient.” France plucked the hotel's plush ivory bathrobe off its rack and slipped it on, tying it around his middle. Then he bent over to dig in his suitcase. He seriously messed up the nice repacking job England had done, tossing things aside until locating what he was looking for: the scarf he had brought in case of case of cold weather, light blue decorated with red roses. “Close enough, yes?” he wrapped it around his neck, and England was suddenly overcome with dread.
“Oh no...”
“Oh yes.” France grinned.
“You can't be serious.”
“Needs something else...” He plucked another item from his belongings. A box of... aluminum foil?
“Why on earth do you even have-”
“Mistake. I had meant to pack the saran wrap.”
“And why did-never mind. I really don't want to know.”
With a grin, France disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of foil being tugged out and torn emerged. More foily noises. Then France returned, bearing a stick wrapped in shiny silver.
England rolled his eyes. “What...?”
“Well, it was the stick to the plunger.”
“Disgusting.”
“Now it's a faucet pipe!”
“That's your pipe...”
“Indeed.” France brandished the... pipe. “Come on, you capitalist pig!”
England blinked. France-France, of all people, who did not even like speaking other languages, let alone accents-affected a rather convincing Russian accent. It... well, it went straight to England's crotch. “Um.”
England looked around, wondering what to use for his costume. He stripped down to his boxers, which just happened to be red white and blue. Technically they were supposed to represent the French flag, a gift from his lover for a recent holiday, but they would work. Then he located his coat, which may not be leather but at least it was brown. A copious amount of hair gel later and England had a nice little cowlick, and finally, he donned his reading glasses that he almost never wore, even when reading.
The Other Side 2b/3?
anonymous
November 2 2010, 00:33:46 UTC
“You look great,” France said with another smirk. Then he whacked England on the head with his makeshift pipe.
“Ow! Son of a bitch!” England rubbed the damaged spot. “Couldn't you have found a cardboard tube or something?”
“So sorry.” France tapped the shiny stick against his other palm. “Well, America,” he purred, slipping back into his Russian accent. “I hear you've been flirting with the limey and wino next door.”
“I have not!” England snapped. A look of surprise flickered across France's face, and even England was a bit surprised by his not too terrible American accent. Oh well. “And even if I was, that's none of your business.”
“Ah, but it is.” France stepped closer, and England took a step back before he even realized what he was doing. “You belong to me, da?”
“I don't belong to anybody, you commie bastard!”
France slapped him across the face, then grabbed him by the coat to drag them nose-to-nose. “You might want to rethink that.”
England shoved France hard in the chest. England did not have America's strength, but France made an exaggerated show of stumbling backward, until he smacked into the wall. He glared at England, growling deep in his throat.
Oh lord was that hot...
England practically pounced on France, fisting a hand in his wavy hair and bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss. On impulse, England bit France's tongue, then drew back with a smirk of his own. “Didn't hurt ya too much, did I?” He chuckled. “Wouldn't want to get any of your red blood on me.”
“Oh, clever.” France jerked England's shorts down (England helped a bit and kicked them away). “Well, look at that. I see Florida's enjoying this.”
England snorted and pawed at the belt around France's middle, quickly pulling it loose, then tugged the robe open. “And I see that... uh... that you're enjoying this, too.”
“Ha.” France shoved England to the floor, lowering himself down on top of him with a predatory grin.
“I say.” England temporarily broke character. “You had best not be thinking about shoving that filthy plunger up my ass.”
“The thought hadn't even crossed my mind.”
“It better not have.”
“Shut up now,” France snarled. “You, um, khu..ye..sos.”
“Filthy wanker.”
“What?”
“I mean... dumbass.”
“Ah.” And France slicked his cock up using the tube he pretty much always had on him everywhere, even when naked somehow, then hitched one of England's legs up and unceremoniously shoved into him.
England bit back the groan of pleasure that threatened to escape as he was roughly filled, forcing it instead into a furious snarl (France would know he wasn't really hurt. If he was, he just had to say the usual magic word and they would stop. As if that was going to happen...)
“Get your disgusting commie dick out of me!”
“You know you like it, shliushka.”
Where in the world was France learning these words? “Fuck you!”
“What was that? Because in Soviet Ru-”
“Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”
“My apologies.” France gave a harder thrust, and England was unable to prevent a groan that time.
“F-fuck...”
France managed a downright creepy grin as he rocked his hips into the body beneath him, bracing himself on a hand near England's head.
But of course America wouldn't just lie back and take it, much as England would have been happy to continue letting France have his way with him. So he forced himself to shove and kick at France until he got the hint and pretended to be pushed backward (after gently pulling out; they were terrible roleplayers, really).
England rolled to his feet, laughing in the face of France's dirty glare. He ducked a clumsy swing of the 'pipe' and scooted away, looking for a weapon of his own. Teapot, phone, candelabra... aha! England yanked a taper candle out and hurled it at France's head. The creep ducked, and the candle smacked into the wall.
“Is that the best you can do?” France said, caressing his pipe. Then he yelped when a second candle took him right between the eyes.
“Ha!” England said. “Stupid asshole. Y'all gotta watch out!” He charged after France, grabbing him by the arm and swinging him face-first into the wall.
The Other Side 2c/3?
anonymous
November 2 2010, 00:35:22 UTC
England paused a moment to find the lube, quickly slathering himself up and pushing the robe out of the way before plunging into France, who couldn't quite suppress a low moan. He himself shivered and sighed happily as warm tightness enveloped him.
England kept his hands on France's shoulders, pressing him into the wall as he fucked him hard, grunting and panting and occasionally gasping random American insults. France retorted with insults of his own, frequently in what had to be badly garbled Russian.
Finally, England tensed, practically seeing stars as he spilled deep within France, a low cry escaping. “Oh g-god.” He paused to catch his breath.
“Th-that's me,” France said. “Hurry the hell up, stupid pig. Don't stop just because you're done.”
“Chill out, dude.” England stepped back with an evil look.
“Damn you.” France stalked over to the sink, snatching up a towel which he dampened to clean himself up a bit, including the lube and whatever else was on his rather angry-looking erection. “How about we put that big mouth of yours to work?”
“To hell with that,” England snapped. “Want me to bite it off?”
“I don't think you will... not if you know what's good for you.”
“Stay the fuck away from me!” England backed away, but France sprang after him, shoving him to his knees. England struggled, turning his face away from France's cock. “I swear to god, I'll bite your stupid commie dick right off y'all's body!”
“Oh for goodness sake!” a nearby voice snapped. “I do not talk like that!”
England froze, as did France. They slowly turned their wide-eyed faces toward the wall, toward the peep hole that still had not been covered up.
“Shut up, you idiot!” a second voice said. It was most definitely not Canada.
“Oh, bloody hell...” England sank his face into his hands.
Translation of Russian: Khuyesos - Cocksucker Shliushka - Little slut
Re: The Other Side 2c/3?
anonymous
November 2 2010, 01:06:27 UTC
FFFFFFFFFFFFF----
OH MY GOD *DIES LAUGHING* That was too hilarious for words just *shakes with laughter* My roommate actually came in to ask what the hell I was cracking up about.
This sequel--just the whole premise, the fail aluminum foil, the unfinished soviet russia joke, England slipping and using 'wanker' and the ending FFFF---SO MAGNIFICENT. I CAN FEEL RAINBOWS BLUEBIRDS AND JOY. THIS SEQUEL WAS GLORIOUS, ANON. GLORIOUS.
Re: The Other Side 2c/3?
anonymous
November 2 2010, 02:20:11 UTC
GOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDD This was so great. the hotness in the role play and that ending. They really forgot about the peephole, oh boys. i could just hear their fake accents, especially England's overuse of y'all. As a southern girl that cracked me up.
Re: The Other Side 2c/3?
anonymous
November 3 2010, 19:31:13 UTC
This. Is. So. Fucking. Perfect ♥
Seriously, beginning to end, top to bottom (haha), everything's awesome here. I love that the roleplay doesn't go smoothly, as these two are too much themselves for that. I love France's surprising extensive knowledge of Russian (big FRussia fan here <3) and I LOVED LOVED LOVED England's surprisingly good American accent! And America's outburst, pffff. I simply can't wait to see the update! I'm so glad you wrote a sequel! ^^
This is OP of the subway molestation, and I'm the happiest person in the world right now!!!
Re: The Other Side 2c/3?
anonymous
January 6 2011, 05:16:15 UTC
I am crying with laughter, dear authornon. Crying and fit to bust a gut. This is hilarious--and also hot. I love that the sex between America and Russia is so violent AND so consensual, that they can go full-out with each other because they know the other can take it and moreover wants to. Just gorgeous.
I'm still laughing over the tinfoil-transformed "pipe."
Another dull evening. That particular night found England with his nose in the volume of English literature he had packed for the trip, and France enjoying a glass of red wine by the window.
The memory of their voyeuristic adventure last night seemed almost like a dream. After the morning's confrontation, they had assumed... well, one should never assume. Russia was nowhere to be found, and America was watching a movie with his brother. The only sound that came from the room next door was his occasional loud laughter. If they scooted closer to the wall separating them, they might also hear the movie itself, or Canada's softer voice. But that wasn't exactly worth spying on.
“So...” England carefully tucked his bookmark into the heavy tome and snapped it closed. “I guess you were wrong.”
France wrinkled his nose. “I suppose I misjudged how embarrassed he would be. After last night, I figured... well, you can't blame moi for his puritan upbringing.”
“This is awful,” England groaned. “We're basing our love life on the love life of another couple.”
“Could that even be called a couple?” France set his empty glass aside. “Or a love life?”
“Whatever you call it, we should be able to enjoy ourselves alone!”
“We should.” Elbow on the table, France rested his face on his hand. “We definitely should. We don't need Amérique and Russie for our own fun.”
“Right!” England said, but made no move from his chair.
They remained in awkward silence for a few moments.
“We could give Russia a call...?” England said. Yes, that would go over well. Hi, Russia! Say, you know the sweet little boy I raised? Would you come over and molest him some more so I can get off? Thanks so much. “Or not.”
A slow smile spread across France's face. “I know another way to bring them here.”
“Open bar?”
“Better.” France stood from his chair, shedding clothes-something he was the master of-as he went.
“It involves you being naked?” England said.
“Doesn't everything? Just be patient.” France plucked the hotel's plush ivory bathrobe off its rack and slipped it on, tying it around his middle. Then he bent over to dig in his suitcase. He seriously messed up the nice repacking job England had done, tossing things aside until locating what he was looking for: the scarf he had brought in case of case of cold weather, light blue decorated with red roses. “Close enough, yes?” he wrapped it around his neck, and England was suddenly overcome with dread.
“Oh no...”
“Oh yes.” France grinned.
“You can't be serious.”
“Needs something else...” He plucked another item from his belongings. A box of... aluminum foil?
“Why on earth do you even have-”
“Mistake. I had meant to pack the saran wrap.”
“And why did-never mind. I really don't want to know.”
With a grin, France disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of foil being tugged out and torn emerged. More foily noises. Then France returned, bearing a stick wrapped in shiny silver.
England rolled his eyes. “What...?”
“Well, it was the stick to the plunger.”
“Disgusting.”
“Now it's a faucet pipe!”
“That's your pipe...”
“Indeed.” France brandished the... pipe. “Come on, you capitalist pig!”
England blinked. France-France, of all people, who did not even like speaking other languages, let alone accents-affected a rather convincing Russian accent. It... well, it went straight to England's crotch. “Um.”
England looked around, wondering what to use for his costume. He stripped down to his boxers, which just happened to be red white and blue. Technically they were supposed to represent the French flag, a gift from his lover for a recent holiday, but they would work. Then he located his coat, which may not be leather but at least it was brown. A copious amount of hair gel later and England had a nice little cowlick, and finally, he donned his reading glasses that he almost never wore, even when reading.
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“Ow! Son of a bitch!” England rubbed the damaged spot. “Couldn't you have found a cardboard tube or something?”
“So sorry.” France tapped the shiny stick against his other palm. “Well, America,” he purred, slipping back into his Russian accent. “I hear you've been flirting with the limey and wino next door.”
“I have not!” England snapped. A look of surprise flickered across France's face, and even England was a bit surprised by his not too terrible American accent. Oh well. “And even if I was, that's none of your business.”
“Ah, but it is.” France stepped closer, and England took a step back before he even realized what he was doing. “You belong to me, da?”
“I don't belong to anybody, you commie bastard!”
France slapped him across the face, then grabbed him by the coat to drag them nose-to-nose. “You might want to rethink that.”
England shoved France hard in the chest. England did not have America's strength, but France made an exaggerated show of stumbling backward, until he smacked into the wall. He glared at England, growling deep in his throat.
Oh lord was that hot...
England practically pounced on France, fisting a hand in his wavy hair and bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss. On impulse, England bit France's tongue, then drew back with a smirk of his own. “Didn't hurt ya too much, did I?” He chuckled. “Wouldn't want to get any of your red blood on me.”
“Oh, clever.” France jerked England's shorts down (England helped a bit and kicked them away). “Well, look at that. I see Florida's enjoying this.”
England snorted and pawed at the belt around France's middle, quickly pulling it loose, then tugged the robe open. “And I see that... uh... that you're enjoying this, too.”
“Ha.” France shoved England to the floor, lowering himself down on top of him with a predatory grin.
“I say.” England temporarily broke character. “You had best not be thinking about shoving that filthy plunger up my ass.”
“The thought hadn't even crossed my mind.”
“It better not have.”
“Shut up now,” France snarled. “You, um, khu..ye..sos.”
“Filthy wanker.”
“What?”
“I mean... dumbass.”
“Ah.” And France slicked his cock up using the tube he pretty much always had on him everywhere, even when naked somehow, then hitched one of England's legs up and unceremoniously shoved into him.
England bit back the groan of pleasure that threatened to escape as he was roughly filled, forcing it instead into a furious snarl (France would know he wasn't really hurt. If he was, he just had to say the usual magic word and they would stop. As if that was going to happen...)
“Get your disgusting commie dick out of me!”
“You know you like it, shliushka.”
Where in the world was France learning these words? “Fuck you!”
“What was that? Because in Soviet Ru-”
“Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”
“My apologies.” France gave a harder thrust, and England was unable to prevent a groan that time.
“F-fuck...”
France managed a downright creepy grin as he rocked his hips into the body beneath him, bracing himself on a hand near England's head.
But of course America wouldn't just lie back and take it, much as England would have been happy to continue letting France have his way with him. So he forced himself to shove and kick at France until he got the hint and pretended to be pushed backward (after gently pulling out; they were terrible roleplayers, really).
England rolled to his feet, laughing in the face of France's dirty glare. He ducked a clumsy swing of the 'pipe' and scooted away, looking for a weapon of his own. Teapot, phone, candelabra... aha! England yanked a taper candle out and hurled it at France's head. The creep ducked, and the candle smacked into the wall.
“Is that the best you can do?” France said, caressing his pipe. Then he yelped when a second candle took him right between the eyes.
“Ha!” England said. “Stupid asshole. Y'all gotta watch out!” He charged after France, grabbing him by the arm and swinging him face-first into the wall.
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England kept his hands on France's shoulders, pressing him into the wall as he fucked him hard, grunting and panting and occasionally gasping random American insults. France retorted with insults of his own, frequently in what had to be badly garbled Russian.
Finally, England tensed, practically seeing stars as he spilled deep within France, a low cry escaping. “Oh g-god.” He paused to catch his breath.
“Th-that's me,” France said. “Hurry the hell up, stupid pig. Don't stop just because you're done.”
“Chill out, dude.” England stepped back with an evil look.
“Damn you.” France stalked over to the sink, snatching up a towel which he dampened to clean himself up a bit, including the lube and whatever else was on his rather angry-looking erection. “How about we put that big mouth of yours to work?”
“To hell with that,” England snapped. “Want me to bite it off?”
“I don't think you will... not if you know what's good for you.”
“Stay the fuck away from me!” England backed away, but France sprang after him, shoving him to his knees. England struggled, turning his face away from France's cock. “I swear to god, I'll bite your stupid commie dick right off y'all's body!”
“Oh for goodness sake!” a nearby voice snapped. “I do not talk like that!”
England froze, as did France. They slowly turned their wide-eyed faces toward the wall, toward the peep hole that still had not been covered up.
“Shut up, you idiot!” a second voice said. It was most definitely not Canada.
“Oh, bloody hell...” England sank his face into his hands.
Translation of Russian:
Khuyesos - Cocksucker
Shliushka - Little slut
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OH MY GOD *DIES LAUGHING* That was too hilarious for words just *shakes with laughter* My roommate actually came in to ask what the hell I was cracking up about.
This sequel--just the whole premise, the fail aluminum foil, the unfinished soviet russia joke, England slipping and using 'wanker' and the ending FFFF---SO MAGNIFICENT. I CAN FEEL RAINBOWS BLUEBIRDS AND JOY. THIS SEQUEL WAS GLORIOUS, ANON. GLORIOUS.
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Sooo fucking funny!
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I AM SITTING HERE BITING BACK LAUGHTER WITH MY HAND PLASTERED OVER MY GAPING MOUTH OKAY
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THANK YOU AUTHOR ANON. &hearts
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Seriously, beginning to end, top to bottom (haha), everything's awesome here. I love that the roleplay doesn't go smoothly, as these two are too much themselves for that. I love France's surprising extensive knowledge of Russian (big FRussia fan here <3) and I LOVED LOVED LOVED England's surprisingly good American accent! And America's outburst, pffff. I simply can't wait to see the update! I'm so glad you wrote a sequel! ^^
This is OP of the subway molestation, and I'm the happiest person in the world right now!!!
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This is wonderfully hilarious and hot at the same time! Please update soon!!
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I'm still laughing over the tinfoil-transformed "pipe."
Off to read the continuation now!
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