[UK/US] Stairway to Heaven, 3/?
anonymous
November 23 2010, 13:42:22 UTC
Thanks so much for your enjoyment and feedback, anons! It keeps me going.
England swallowed again. Seeing America lie back like that, all golden skin that rippled over muscle, like waves, like the amber waves of grain in that bloody song . . . he squirted lube out onto his fingers, letting it warm there, then settled between the legs America spread for him obligingly. He had such beautiful, well-muscled legs, England thought half distractedly as he lifted one, his hand pressed flat against the underside of America’s thigh, nudged it up until America hooked it over his shoulder as he reached down with his middle finger, following the curve between the cheeks of America’s arse, watching him blush and shiver, before pressing his finger against the opening there. America gasped and bit his lip as England circled his finger there against the sensitive skin, rubbing in an almost teasing circle before he slipped it through the ring of muscle.
“Mmph,” America said. His throat worked. “A-ah.”
“Steady on,” England said as America’s body clenched around his finger.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’m . . . mmaaah,” America said as England pressed that finger further inside. “Sorry. Just . . . feels . . . a little weird. Been a while.” A long while, if England remembered correctly; it was usually England on the receiving end. America seemed to be enjoying it, though, the flush was deepening over his chest; he was still firmly erect. England continued pressing the finger into him, still moving slowly. “Y’can go a little faster, England,” America said breathlessly. “I like . . .” His cheeks burned a bright, furious red, and he trailed off, pressed his crimson cheek against the pillow, looking away.
England fit another finger in beside the first and was rewarded with America’s gasp, his shoulders lifting off the bed for a moment. England pressed both fingers further in, crooked them at an angle, searching-
America gave a strangled shout and his back arched slightly as his cock twitched. There. England stroked his fingers against that spot, feeling America’s warm, living heat give way to him. America made a choking, eager noise as England moved his fingers, and England felt his own cock twitch, warm, aching, and alive. He nearly withdrew his fingers before pressing them back in even more deeply. America’s breath hitched, uneven, as his body relaxed, opening to England, as if eager to take his fingers in further. England kept the pace slow, patient, his eyes fixed on America’s reactions, the way he wet his lips and gasped for breath. “Oh, wow, England,” he was muttering. “Wow.”
England reached out with his free hand to take America’s, leaning forward so that America’s thigh was pressed tight against his belly to do so, and America’s answering grip was tight around his palm and fingers, strong, almost crushing, but welcome. England scissored his fingers, well inside America, and he moaned and tossed his head against the pillow, his eyes scrunching shut.
It was England’s natural inclination to go slow and gentle, teasing America with slow strokes of his fingers, but America had asked for more, and his own arousal throbbed insistently, reminding him of what he could be doing with it. He slid a third slick finger into America’s body, stroking faster and harder, spread the fingers to stretch him.
“Oh, England, oh, God, England, I . . . Jesus, man, that . . . that’s . . .” America babbled, his eyes still shut.
“That’s rot? I should stop at once?” England asked. His own voice sounded incredibly breathless.
America snorted out a laugh, gasping breathlessly through it, and it made his body clench and twitch in interesting ways against England, around his fingers. “N-no, God,” he said. “A-ah. ‘S intense. But good. Really-really good.”
Re: [UK/US] Stairway to Heaven, 3b/?
anonymous
November 23 2010, 13:44:00 UTC
“Ready?” England asked. He twitched his fingers inside of America and watched his cock jerk again, leaking, as he did.
America groaned, his muscles flexing helplessly. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Fuck. Mm. Hurry up already.”
“Well, all right then,” England said, slicking up his hand with fresh lubricant. “I suppose I will. You . . . impatient prat.” His own voice went helplessly breathy, breaking in the middle of the sentence as he closed his hand over his own arousal, slicking it thoroughly with lube. Desire spiraled up tight inside of him, clenching in his chest, twining close around his heart.
America grinned, and opened his eyes. They were clear, that bright shining blue of his, and they caught and held England’s gaze as England took his cock in his hand, nudged America’s leg up a bit further as he leaned in, and pushed into him.
America gave a sort of shouting yelp, and his hand tightened on England’s. England squeezed back, gasping himself at the sudden hot, tight close heat around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, unsteady breath, struggling not to thrust forward indiscriminately.
“C’mon, England,” America said, wriggling his hips slightly.
Right. Well, then. England started slow, with shallow, easy thrusts, opened his eyes to see America close his free hand around his other thigh, pulling it upward to give England further access. He was panting, moaning with each of England’s movement, mumbling words of encouragement. England leaned forward, not letting go of his hand, and let himself thrust into him. He reached forward with his other hand, still slicked with lube, and closed it around America’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. America-loud as ever-shouted, throwing his head back against the pillows. His throat worked, and England leaned down, pressing America’s legs close to his chest in order to trail his mouth along that working throat, press their lips together. His mouth felt very warm, America’s skin hot, radiating brilliant burning heat against his lips, salty against his mouth and tongue with sweat. “All right there?” he asked. His own voice sounded very far away to his own ears.
“F-fuck, England,” America panted. “Don’t stop.” His eyes were wide and very, very blue, still piercing despite the pleasure turning them wide, dilated and darker than normal.
“No need to ask,” England murmured, skimming kisses over America’s cheek, his jaw, and bracing himself against the bed, against the warm strength of America’s body as he thrust into him. He could feel the warmth spiraling out of him, into him, trickling down his spine. Sweat slipped down along his shoulders.
America moaned, his voice breaking. He pushed back against England’s thrusts with enthusiasm, almost desperately, unrestrained, with no rhythm at all. His cock was scorchingly hot against England’s fingers. America’s legs were trembling against England’s body, his mouth hanging open as he made small, breathless noises, his head flung back and his hair a tousled golden halo around his head.
He was beautiful. England lifted their clasped hands, continuing to move into America’s warm, welcoming body, pressed America’s strong, scarred knuckles to his lips, open-mouthed.
Re: [UK/US] Stairway to Heaven, 3b/?
anonymous
November 23 2010, 20:42:05 UTC
Damn, anon. This is good, really good. Youre writing style is just so sensual and warm and perfect for this scene. It makes for very hot sex. (I'm thinking you've probably written for the meme before :) )
Re: [UK/US] Stairway to Heaven, 3b/?
anonymous
November 24 2010, 11:04:29 UTC
Author anon here! Thank you! I agree; I could read/write them having sex a thousand times and it would never get old. And I'm very glad you're enjoying this.
England swallowed again. Seeing America lie back like that, all golden skin that rippled over muscle, like waves, like the amber waves of grain in that bloody song . . . he squirted lube out onto his fingers, letting it warm there, then settled between the legs America spread for him obligingly. He had such beautiful, well-muscled legs, England thought half distractedly as he lifted one, his hand pressed flat against the underside of America’s thigh, nudged it up until America hooked it over his shoulder as he reached down with his middle finger, following the curve between the cheeks of America’s arse, watching him blush and shiver, before pressing his finger against the opening there. America gasped and bit his lip as England circled his finger there against the sensitive skin, rubbing in an almost teasing circle before he slipped it through the ring of muscle.
“Mmph,” America said. His throat worked. “A-ah.”
“Steady on,” England said as America’s body clenched around his finger.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’m . . . mmaaah,” America said as England pressed that finger further inside. “Sorry. Just . . . feels . . . a little weird. Been a while.” A long while, if England remembered correctly; it was usually England on the receiving end. America seemed to be enjoying it, though, the flush was deepening over his chest; he was still firmly erect. England continued pressing the finger into him, still moving slowly. “Y’can go a little faster, England,” America said breathlessly. “I like . . .” His cheeks burned a bright, furious red, and he trailed off, pressed his crimson cheek against the pillow, looking away.
England fit another finger in beside the first and was rewarded with America’s gasp, his shoulders lifting off the bed for a moment. England pressed both fingers further in, crooked them at an angle, searching-
America gave a strangled shout and his back arched slightly as his cock twitched. There. England stroked his fingers against that spot, feeling America’s warm, living heat give way to him. America made a choking, eager noise as England moved his fingers, and England felt his own cock twitch, warm, aching, and alive. He nearly withdrew his fingers before pressing them back in even more deeply. America’s breath hitched, uneven, as his body relaxed, opening to England, as if eager to take his fingers in further. England kept the pace slow, patient, his eyes fixed on America’s reactions, the way he wet his lips and gasped for breath. “Oh, wow, England,” he was muttering. “Wow.”
England reached out with his free hand to take America’s, leaning forward so that America’s thigh was pressed tight against his belly to do so, and America’s answering grip was tight around his palm and fingers, strong, almost crushing, but welcome. England scissored his fingers, well inside America, and he moaned and tossed his head against the pillow, his eyes scrunching shut.
It was England’s natural inclination to go slow and gentle, teasing America with slow strokes of his fingers, but America had asked for more, and his own arousal throbbed insistently, reminding him of what he could be doing with it. He slid a third slick finger into America’s body, stroking faster and harder, spread the fingers to stretch him.
“Oh, England, oh, God, England, I . . . Jesus, man, that . . . that’s . . .” America babbled, his eyes still shut.
“That’s rot? I should stop at once?” England asked. His own voice sounded incredibly breathless.
America snorted out a laugh, gasping breathlessly through it, and it made his body clench and twitch in interesting ways against England, around his fingers. “N-no, God,” he said. “A-ah. ‘S intense. But good. Really-really good.”
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America groaned, his muscles flexing helplessly. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Fuck. Mm. Hurry up already.”
“Well, all right then,” England said, slicking up his hand with fresh lubricant. “I suppose I will. You . . . impatient prat.” His own voice went helplessly breathy, breaking in the middle of the sentence as he closed his hand over his own arousal, slicking it thoroughly with lube. Desire spiraled up tight inside of him, clenching in his chest, twining close around his heart.
America grinned, and opened his eyes. They were clear, that bright shining blue of his, and they caught and held England’s gaze as England took his cock in his hand, nudged America’s leg up a bit further as he leaned in, and pushed into him.
America gave a sort of shouting yelp, and his hand tightened on England’s. England squeezed back, gasping himself at the sudden hot, tight close heat around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, unsteady breath, struggling not to thrust forward indiscriminately.
“C’mon, England,” America said, wriggling his hips slightly.
Right. Well, then. England started slow, with shallow, easy thrusts, opened his eyes to see America close his free hand around his other thigh, pulling it upward to give England further access. He was panting, moaning with each of England’s movement, mumbling words of encouragement. England leaned forward, not letting go of his hand, and let himself thrust into him. He reached forward with his other hand, still slicked with lube, and closed it around America’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. America-loud as ever-shouted, throwing his head back against the pillows. His throat worked, and England leaned down, pressing America’s legs close to his chest in order to trail his mouth along that working throat, press their lips together. His mouth felt very warm, America’s skin hot, radiating brilliant burning heat against his lips, salty against his mouth and tongue with sweat. “All right there?” he asked. His own voice sounded very far away to his own ears.
“F-fuck, England,” America panted. “Don’t stop.” His eyes were wide and very, very blue, still piercing despite the pleasure turning them wide, dilated and darker than normal.
“No need to ask,” England murmured, skimming kisses over America’s cheek, his jaw, and bracing himself against the bed, against the warm strength of America’s body as he thrust into him. He could feel the warmth spiraling out of him, into him, trickling down his spine. Sweat slipped down along his shoulders.
America moaned, his voice breaking. He pushed back against England’s thrusts with enthusiasm, almost desperately, unrestrained, with no rhythm at all. His cock was scorchingly hot against England’s fingers. America’s legs were trembling against England’s body, his mouth hanging open as he made small, breathless noises, his head flung back and his hair a tousled golden halo around his head.
He was beautiful. England lifted their clasped hands, continuing to move into America’s warm, welcoming body, pressed America’s strong, scarred knuckles to his lips, open-mouthed.
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*brain broke*
*dies*
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Why does sex with these two never get old???
And your writing is terrific, author anon! So deliciously done, wow.
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