Reverse Meltdown [18a/?]
anonymous
November 27 2010, 00:41:09 UTC
England notes several things when they make love.
First, when America kisses him, it’s like eating a marshmallow. His lips are slightly chapped, but soft. He tastes sweet like sugar. England can’t help but bite down on his lip, receiving a soft groan directed straight to his heart. He then melts, holding onto America, who is also melting. They may as well be a pile of goop together.
Second, when America’s tongue enters, he is greatly aroused. He licks and sucks, never leaving a precious spot unattended. England whimpers quietly, wanting that to be all over his skin. America then responds accordingly, breaking the kiss to go lower. He dives down to England’s neck and kisses upwards until he finds that spot that makes him moan out loud. He feels America grin and abuse that spot, ravishing it with nips and licks. At the same time, he is removing their clothes clumsily, but England doesn’t notice until America leaves his neck alone.
“Let me… take off my own clothes,” he breaths and America nods.
Even after he says that, America still helps him remove his clothing. He assumes it’s because America still thinks he cannot do simple things like that. It annoys him a bit, but his mind changes once America rubs his cock through the fabric of his boxers. He curls up, clutching onto America’s back. His hips lift up for more friction and America takes advantage of this by quickly pulling off the underwear altogether. The contrast of temperatures makes England squeak. After all, it is the middle of winter.
The boy then quickly strips, but slows at certain moments just to tease him. He especially slows when taking off his trousers and boxers. England groans while waiting for the excruciating zipping sound to end. Instead of being patient, he takes it off for him. He makes it as quick and simple as he can even with his slightly fumbling hands.
“Who’s the tease now?” he grins, but stops short to gape at the splendor over him.
Third, though they’ve seen each other naked quite a few times, it still embarrasses him. Unlike England’s skin, America’s has a light shade of tan, even in the winter. He has toned muscles, but not buff to the point of creepy. He’s just the right amount of a little bit of everything and he won’t even mention his cock. His face turns into darker shades of red as he appreciates the body like never before.
“You really are ‘God’s chosen land,’” he mumbles.
“Why thank you, beautiful,” America replies against his ear.
Fourth, he’s not sure why he would be called that when America deserves that title (and he already has it). It’s a bit cliché, but it’s the truth. He hides his awkwardness by kissing that piece of skin he’s been eyeing for awhile. At the same time, America rubs against him and he bites to hold back a moan, as his dick becomes completely hard.
As he reaches down to stroke America’s dick, he finds him in the same situation. “I want this in me,” he whispers and America shudders.
“Alright Hun’,”
“Don’t call me that!” he stutters and slaps America’s arm in mock attempt. He laughs and shifts over to reach into the plastic bag on the nightstand.
He pulls out a bottle and condom. “When did you get time to get these anyways?”
“This morning,”
“No wonder you took so long to go shopping!” he laughs.
“Just… hurry up,”
“Yes sir,”
He watches America coat his fingers with the lubricant and warms his hands by rubbing them together. He then sticks a finger in him and England squirms a bit. He hasn’t had this for quite a while, so it feels weird for now.
“Man, you’re tight,” America mutters. “It’s given since you’ve probably haven’t done this for quite awhile.”
Reverse Meltdown [18b/?]
anonymous
November 27 2010, 00:42:16 UTC
Fifth, his touches burn England’s skin even if they are cold. He kisses England, so England can forget the uncomfortable feeling and instead be replaced by a pleasurable one. America’s free hand explores all over his chest and moves down, brushing his thigh and avoiding the cock. He kicks America slightly for mocking him. It’s only then the kiss breaks and he notices there are three digits inside of him, brushing against a spot that makes him cry. “America…”
“Okay, okay.” America’s lips brush against his forehead. His face heats up even more, if that’s possible.
He takes the fingers out and starts making marks all over his chest while putting on the condom. He nips especially hard on one spot and England whines, obtaining a lick as an apology. Now, the condom is completely slick and the cock is resting right at the entrance, but America still seems a bit hesitant. “You know you want that in me. In the tight heat. Imagine. No, I won’t get hurt. Please America,” he coaxes, stroking America’s cheek.
America nods and enters slowly-so slowly England has to shift his hips a bit. Once fully in (to his amazement), America pulls out almost completely and then slams back in. It’s not that painful, but the friction that is there makes it better. Before long, he chants a mantra of “faster” and “harder” and America obeys; yet at the same time there is something missing again. He knows America can do much more than this, but he’s holding back and the reason why is England himself. He takes all his strength just to flip them over, so he’s sitting on top.
Sixth, he somehow needs to prove himself.
America is slightly shocked, so England explains, “Don’t hold back.”
He raises his hips and pounds back down, trying different angles. America seems to get the picture as he starts meeting the thrusts halfway. He leans down to kiss America and muffle his cry as the cock strikes his prostrate. They both mumble many incoherent words in their kissing. After many thrusts, he feels his body clench up.
“Alfred!” he yells as he reaches his orgasm.
He still moves up and down until America reaches his own climax. He collapses on top of America in exhaustion and America catches him in a tight embrace. He helps him pull out and America takes the condom out and throws it away (hopefully in the trash). “You were amazing,”
“Mmm,” England responds, nuzzling into America’s chest. It smells like sweat and sunshine.
America buries his head in England’s hair and then they stay that way when falling asleep.
“Good night Arthur,”
“Good night,”
Finally, America may as well be the best cuddler in the world.
I've probably strayed far far away from what the OP asked for. OTL
Reverse Meltdown [19a/19]
anonymous
November 28 2010, 06:41:09 UTC
America awakes with England in his arms.
He panics a bit on the inside, his memory a bit fuzzy, but calms when he remembers of last night. Laughing, he perches a kiss on England’s forehead and gets out of bed. Though he wants to stay under the covers, he knows he’s too dirty to stay comfortable for long.
In the shower, he finds dry, white spots on his skin. As his face turns warmer than the water, he viciously scrubs them off. For no real reason, he still feels embarrassed.
It seems to be all too fast, but it isn’t at all.
When he gets out of the bathroom, he finds England grappling his side of the bed in search for warmth. As he fails, he opens his eyes to see America. He blushes slightly in consciousness of what he had just done.
America plops back into the bed and hugs him.
“Hey! You’re going to get dirty!”
“Hmm… that’s okay,” he recalls something important, “don’t you have to go home today?”
“I do, but not until later today,”
England pulls him down and kisses him. He tastes like tea and sugar, just like last night, but with a slight dated out flavor. “Your breath smells bad,” America comments when they break apart.
“Well, I haven’t exactly brushed my teeth yet as you can tell,”
“Good morning Mr. Grumpy-pants,’
“Good morning to you too,”
England scowls, but it’s not long until it’s replaced by a smirk. “I guess I have to get up now.”
He stands up, staggers, and topples over. America is luckily there to catch him in time. “You okay?”
“Yes…”
“You’re still not better yet,”
“Of course I am! It’s just…”
“Just what?”
America knows England really isn’t better, so he carries him to the bathroom. He places England on the closed toilet lid and as he runs the bath, England makes quick work of his clothes. Once the water is warm and ready, England enters in clumsily. America frowns, but it doesn’t last for long when he remembers the past.
“Hey, isn’t this a trip down memory lane,” he chuckles, “I fell in.”
“So you did.”
England suddenly pulls him in without warning. America sits there, dazed. “How’s that, hun?”
America bursts out in laughter and kisses England. He gladly returns it.
After the romantic act, England stubbornly washes himself, but America forcefully helps him, seeing how his hands aren’t in tip-top shape. He can see the extra effort England puts into holding a bar of soap, even though it would be microscopic to the normal person. It’s a bit strange, but he guesses that’s what happens after living together for quite a while.
Then, they go eat breakfast and undoubtedly, America cooks. He makes his butter-loaded-to-death food, causing England to writhe in a bit of disgust. “I’m going to die from this, America,”
“You’re not! I made you this before and you ate it without any complaints.”
England clamps his mouth shut, unable to counter. He glares at the food, picks up a fork, and starts picking at it. It’s not until a few seconds later he actually begins to eat, making America content enough to chow down. They both eat in silence, but a good silence-a silence of understanding. There’s nothing awkward, but instead there’s pure appreciation of their time together.
Immediately after the meal, America rushes with England to help pack up. Though he’s not completely confident to let him go home by himself, there’s not much choice. He rummages through the clothing, trying to separate his from England’s, and he stuffs them into the suitcase, earning a scolding. When England takes out the crumples clothing, he finds something very familiar under it. It doesn’t look like something the old man would wear, but… his. “England?” he calls as he holds up the sweatshirt. “Isn’t this mine?”
England flushes a bright red and responds, “Yes, that’s yours,”
“Why do you have it?”
“You left it at my house and I wanted to r-return it,”
America embraces him, “Aw… you’re so sweet,”
“Hey! It’s not for you, but for me okay? I don’t need your extra clothes in my house,”
“Sure, sure,” he says while secretly slipping a piece of paper in England’s jacket.
Reverse Meltdown [19b/19]
anonymous
November 28 2010, 06:45:19 UTC
Finally, it’s time to take England to the airport and back home, even if he can’t bear to be apart from his newly found lover. In the car, England leans on his shoulder in the cutest way. He doesn’t say anything to not ruin the precious moment. Once at destination, he gives a simple farewell with no uncertainty.
He just has to trust him.
-~-
England can’t believe how he had been let go so easily.
He is in the airplane instead of at America’s house. He could’ve canceled this flight, but America hadn’t disagreed against going. Obviously, he had seen signs, but no real action had been made. Plus, at the departure, America hadn’t shown him any of the affection from earlier that morning. He pouts, stuffing his hands into his pockets. In one of them, he finds a piece of paper that hadn’t been there before.
He opens it and reads, “Dear Arthur, What ‘real’ present are you talking about? Is it the scarf you made me? Even though it’s very nice, I think the real present is you. You are my gift. And because of that, I can’t leave you alone. It’s my duty to stress over you. Even if you’re completely well, I still will because I…”
“Love you, duh,”
England tilts his head up to see America standing over him. He jumps back in surprise. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I was just lucky,”
“Lucky how?”
“Lucky someone didn’t need a flight today?”
“I’m close to believing you stole it.”
“Hey! You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. Now sit down,”
America complies and buckles his seatbelt. “Well… Arthur, I know you’re not completely a hundred percent yet, so I’ll be staying with you,”
“And how long will that take?”
“I don’t know. But as I see it, it’ll never go away,”
“What?” England yells.
“Maybe ‘never’ is too much, but it keeps coming back. All we can do is keep trying,”
England looks down at his fingers, wondering if he’ll ever go back to the way he had been. Before he goes to the thought of “never,” America interrupts, “Besides, there’s always rain before beauty.”
“What did you say?”
“Ah,” America blushes, realizing his own comment, “nothing. Just something I noticed while being at your place.”
He thinks over the statement and smiles. Though there’ll always be hardships, there’ll also be many beautiful things ahead also. “It’s true,” he mutters.
He grasps America’s hand. Just like the first time, he’ll have to rely on him, but somehow it’s not the same. He’s not dependent because he’s the only one there, but because he loves him. And that makes all the difference.
So now he lives upon a whole pile of hope, surely to get him somewhere. As long as he takes this optimistically, maybe he’ll be able to reverse this state completely.
But in actuality, his meltdown is already over.
Hoorah. I've reached over 20K ^p^. Fail story deserves a fail ending. Er. I think I'll de-anon this with a bunch of revisions to improve it. ^^" So see you around... I guess. And I still didn't do homework...
First, when America kisses him, it’s like eating a marshmallow. His lips are slightly chapped, but soft. He tastes sweet like sugar. England can’t help but bite down on his lip, receiving a soft groan directed straight to his heart. He then melts, holding onto America, who is also melting. They may as well be a pile of goop together.
Second, when America’s tongue enters, he is greatly aroused. He licks and sucks, never leaving a precious spot unattended. England whimpers quietly, wanting that to be all over his skin. America then responds accordingly, breaking the kiss to go lower. He dives down to England’s neck and kisses upwards until he finds that spot that makes him moan out loud. He feels America grin and abuse that spot, ravishing it with nips and licks. At the same time, he is removing their clothes clumsily, but England doesn’t notice until America leaves his neck alone.
“Let me… take off my own clothes,” he breaths and America nods.
Even after he says that, America still helps him remove his clothing. He assumes it’s because America still thinks he cannot do simple things like that. It annoys him a bit, but his mind changes once America rubs his cock through the fabric of his boxers. He curls up, clutching onto America’s back. His hips lift up for more friction and America takes advantage of this by quickly pulling off the underwear altogether. The contrast of temperatures makes England squeak. After all, it is the middle of winter.
The boy then quickly strips, but slows at certain moments just to tease him. He especially slows when taking off his trousers and boxers. England groans while waiting for the excruciating zipping sound to end. Instead of being patient, he takes it off for him. He makes it as quick and simple as he can even with his slightly fumbling hands.
“Who’s the tease now?” he grins, but stops short to gape at the splendor over him.
Third, though they’ve seen each other naked quite a few times, it still embarrasses him. Unlike England’s skin, America’s has a light shade of tan, even in the winter. He has toned muscles, but not buff to the point of creepy. He’s just the right amount of a little bit of everything and he won’t even mention his cock. His face turns into darker shades of red as he appreciates the body like never before.
“You really are ‘God’s chosen land,’” he mumbles.
“Why thank you, beautiful,” America replies against his ear.
Fourth, he’s not sure why he would be called that when America deserves that title (and he already has it). It’s a bit cliché, but it’s the truth. He hides his awkwardness by kissing that piece of skin he’s been eyeing for awhile. At the same time, America rubs against him and he bites to hold back a moan, as his dick becomes completely hard.
As he reaches down to stroke America’s dick, he finds him in the same situation. “I want this in me,” he whispers and America shudders.
“Alright Hun’,”
“Don’t call me that!” he stutters and slaps America’s arm in mock attempt. He laughs and shifts over to reach into the plastic bag on the nightstand.
He pulls out a bottle and condom. “When did you get time to get these anyways?”
“This morning,”
“No wonder you took so long to go shopping!” he laughs.
“Just… hurry up,”
“Yes sir,”
He watches America coat his fingers with the lubricant and warms his hands by rubbing them together. He then sticks a finger in him and England squirms a bit. He hasn’t had this for quite a while, so it feels weird for now.
“Man, you’re tight,” America mutters. “It’s given since you’ve probably haven’t done this for quite awhile.”
Reply
“Okay, okay.” America’s lips brush against his forehead. His face heats up even more, if that’s possible.
He takes the fingers out and starts making marks all over his chest while putting on the condom. He nips especially hard on one spot and England whines, obtaining a lick as an apology. Now, the condom is completely slick and the cock is resting right at the entrance, but America still seems a bit hesitant. “You know you want that in me. In the tight heat. Imagine. No, I won’t get hurt. Please America,” he coaxes, stroking America’s cheek.
America nods and enters slowly-so slowly England has to shift his hips a bit. Once fully in (to his amazement), America pulls out almost completely and then slams back in. It’s not that painful, but the friction that is there makes it better. Before long, he chants a mantra of “faster” and “harder” and America obeys; yet at the same time there is something missing again. He knows America can do much more than this, but he’s holding back and the reason why is England himself. He takes all his strength just to flip them over, so he’s sitting on top.
Sixth, he somehow needs to prove himself.
America is slightly shocked, so England explains, “Don’t hold back.”
He raises his hips and pounds back down, trying different angles. America seems to get the picture as he starts meeting the thrusts halfway. He leans down to kiss America and muffle his cry as the cock strikes his prostrate. They both mumble many incoherent words in their kissing. After many thrusts, he feels his body clench up.
“Alfred!” he yells as he reaches his orgasm.
He still moves up and down until America reaches his own climax. He collapses on top of America in exhaustion and America catches him in a tight embrace. He helps him pull out and America takes the condom out and throws it away (hopefully in the trash). “You were amazing,”
“Mmm,” England responds, nuzzling into America’s chest. It smells like sweat and sunshine.
America buries his head in England’s hair and then they stay that way when falling asleep.
“Good night Arthur,”
“Good night,”
Finally, America may as well be the best cuddler in the world.
I've probably strayed far far away from what the OP asked for. OTL
Reply
Reply
He panics a bit on the inside, his memory a bit fuzzy, but calms when he remembers of last night. Laughing, he perches a kiss on England’s forehead and gets out of bed. Though he wants to stay under the covers, he knows he’s too dirty to stay comfortable for long.
In the shower, he finds dry, white spots on his skin. As his face turns warmer than the water, he viciously scrubs them off. For no real reason, he still feels embarrassed.
It seems to be all too fast, but it isn’t at all.
When he gets out of the bathroom, he finds England grappling his side of the bed in search for warmth. As he fails, he opens his eyes to see America. He blushes slightly in consciousness of what he had just done.
America plops back into the bed and hugs him.
“Hey! You’re going to get dirty!”
“Hmm… that’s okay,” he recalls something important, “don’t you have to go home today?”
“I do, but not until later today,”
England pulls him down and kisses him. He tastes like tea and sugar, just like last night, but with a slight dated out flavor. “Your breath smells bad,” America comments when they break apart.
“Well, I haven’t exactly brushed my teeth yet as you can tell,”
“Good morning Mr. Grumpy-pants,’
“Good morning to you too,”
England scowls, but it’s not long until it’s replaced by a smirk. “I guess I have to get up now.”
He stands up, staggers, and topples over. America is luckily there to catch him in time. “You okay?”
“Yes…”
“You’re still not better yet,”
“Of course I am! It’s just…”
“Just what?”
America knows England really isn’t better, so he carries him to the bathroom. He places England on the closed toilet lid and as he runs the bath, England makes quick work of his clothes. Once the water is warm and ready, England enters in clumsily. America frowns, but it doesn’t last for long when he remembers the past.
“Hey, isn’t this a trip down memory lane,” he chuckles, “I fell in.”
“So you did.”
England suddenly pulls him in without warning. America sits there, dazed. “How’s that, hun?”
America bursts out in laughter and kisses England. He gladly returns it.
After the romantic act, England stubbornly washes himself, but America forcefully helps him, seeing how his hands aren’t in tip-top shape. He can see the extra effort England puts into holding a bar of soap, even though it would be microscopic to the normal person. It’s a bit strange, but he guesses that’s what happens after living together for quite a while.
Then, they go eat breakfast and undoubtedly, America cooks. He makes his butter-loaded-to-death food, causing England to writhe in a bit of disgust. “I’m going to die from this, America,”
“You’re not! I made you this before and you ate it without any complaints.”
England clamps his mouth shut, unable to counter. He glares at the food, picks up a fork, and starts picking at it. It’s not until a few seconds later he actually begins to eat, making America content enough to chow down. They both eat in silence, but a good silence-a silence of understanding. There’s nothing awkward, but instead there’s pure appreciation of their time together.
Immediately after the meal, America rushes with England to help pack up. Though he’s not completely confident to let him go home by himself, there’s not much choice. He rummages through the clothing, trying to separate his from England’s, and he stuffs them into the suitcase, earning a scolding. When England takes out the crumples clothing, he finds something very familiar under it. It doesn’t look like something the old man would wear, but… his. “England?” he calls as he holds up the sweatshirt. “Isn’t this mine?”
England flushes a bright red and responds, “Yes, that’s yours,”
“Why do you have it?”
“You left it at my house and I wanted to r-return it,”
America embraces him, “Aw… you’re so sweet,”
“Hey! It’s not for you, but for me okay? I don’t need your extra clothes in my house,”
“Sure, sure,” he says while secretly slipping a piece of paper in England’s jacket.
Reply
He just has to trust him.
-~-
England can’t believe how he had been let go so easily.
He is in the airplane instead of at America’s house. He could’ve canceled this flight, but America hadn’t disagreed against going. Obviously, he had seen signs, but no real action had been made. Plus, at the departure, America hadn’t shown him any of the affection from earlier that morning. He pouts, stuffing his hands into his pockets. In one of them, he finds a piece of paper that hadn’t been there before.
He opens it and reads, “Dear Arthur, What ‘real’ present are you talking about? Is it the scarf you made me? Even though it’s very nice, I think the real present is you. You are my gift. And because of that, I can’t leave you alone. It’s my duty to stress over you. Even if you’re completely well, I still will because I…”
“Love you, duh,”
England tilts his head up to see America standing over him. He jumps back in surprise. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I was just lucky,”
“Lucky how?”
“Lucky someone didn’t need a flight today?”
“I’m close to believing you stole it.”
“Hey! You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. Now sit down,”
America complies and buckles his seatbelt. “Well… Arthur, I know you’re not completely a hundred percent yet, so I’ll be staying with you,”
“And how long will that take?”
“I don’t know. But as I see it, it’ll never go away,”
“What?” England yells.
“Maybe ‘never’ is too much, but it keeps coming back. All we can do is keep trying,”
England looks down at his fingers, wondering if he’ll ever go back to the way he had been. Before he goes to the thought of “never,” America interrupts, “Besides, there’s always rain before beauty.”
“What did you say?”
“Ah,” America blushes, realizing his own comment, “nothing. Just something I noticed while being at your place.”
He thinks over the statement and smiles. Though there’ll always be hardships, there’ll also be many beautiful things ahead also. “It’s true,” he mutters.
He grasps America’s hand. Just like the first time, he’ll have to rely on him, but somehow it’s not the same. He’s not dependent because he’s the only one there, but because he loves him. And that makes all the difference.
So now he lives upon a whole pile of hope, surely to get him somewhere. As long as he takes this optimistically, maybe he’ll be able to reverse this state completely.
But in actuality, his meltdown is already over.
Hoorah. I've reached over 20K ^p^. Fail story deserves a fail ending. Er. I think I'll de-anon this with a bunch of revisions to improve it. ^^" So see you around... I guess. And I still didn't do homework...
Reply
NotOP!Anon thanks you for sharing this beautiful story with the rest of us anons, and thanks OP for such a nice prompt.
I'm gonna go curl up in bed with a huge smile on my face and re-read this now.
Reply
Leave a comment