Not So Innocent (4/3)
anonymous
November 22 2010, 02:48:11 UTC
(author!anon really wasn't planning on continuing, but you've all inspired me. Thank you for all your lovely comments! :3)
America was thrown face first onto the bed, already panting heavily without any attempt at physical exertion. He looked over his shoulder to see England approaching slowly, broom in hand.
“Ahaha, England, you look really funny,” he stammered nervously, only to be cut off by a not-so-gentle swat of the broomstick on his head.
“Shut up, twat. It’ll be easier that way.”
Somehow England was able to undress him with only one hand, crafty little Brit. America really didn’t give him enough credit. Though he did need to put the broom in his mouth for a moment to undo his belt buckle, and America felt his stomach drop as his lips closed around the round, sleekly carved wooden hilt.
England noticed this and rolled his eyes. “It is the broom, isn’t it.”
“N-no…”
England threw off his pants and jacket but left on his button-down shirt, instead unbuttoning it and leaving it open to his thin, wiry chest. He took the broom in his hands - did America mention how skillful his hands were? - and grinded against it, moving his hips slowly up and down the handle and pressing his half-lidden eyes and thin, watery lips to the bristles at the head. Then he looked back at America, who had pretty much melted into a little puddle of stars and stripes.
“I knew it. It is the broom.” But rather than anger, England’s face spoke of devious glee. “Well if it’s the broom you’re so mad on, I suppose I’ll just have to go along with it…”
Before America could even begin to think what that meant, the unspoken question was answered, as something big, long and wooden but /not/ a cock was shoved straight into his entrance, roughly pushing its way into him.
The former colony gave an involuntary shudder of pain and instinctively clenched around the foreign intrusion but England kept pushing, silently marvelling at how bloody deep the little stick could go. He leapt up on top of America and straddled him, placing his knees comfortably on either side of his tense, smooth-skinned hips, and jammed the end of the broomstick in just a tad deeper, earning a little whimper of pain.
“Mmhgn…England…” America grit out.
“It’s a Firebolt, you git,” England panted. “It’s name is not England.”
He pulled the end of the broom out just a few centimetres, eliciting another groan.
“Unh…I know…” America’s voice was hard and strained. “But it’s … really not just about the broom, Iggy…”
England hesitated, and he was suddenly glad America’s face was pressed down into the sheets so he didn’t see his face flush bright red.
“Y-you mean…” All this time, he it honestly hadn’t occurred to him that America might actually…
“Nnng, wingardium leviosa,” America murmured breathily.
“…What?”
“That meant get that fucking thing out of me,” he hissed.
“Right, right.” England jerked the broom out of America’s ass, spraying himself with warm, sticky bodily fluids and provoking yet another sharp gasp of pleasured pain, followed by a loud exhalation of breath.
“Damnit, Iggy,” America panted, and rolled over to look up at him. “I don’t know what the fuck that was, but please don’t do it ever, ever do it again.”
England, also momentarily short on breath and still straddling him, looked down at him with wide, sweat-sheened eyes. “Ready for the real thing, then?”
“Only if it’s not as big and rough.”
England hit him over the head with the other end of the stick. “You bloody git. I promise you I’m every bit as big and rouch as that fucking stick, with twice as much magic.”
America grinned cheekily and turned willingly back over. “Twice as much magic? Was there ever any?”
England’s lips split into a positively evil smirk. “We’ll see, won’t we.”
OP feels wonderful!~
anonymous
November 23 2010, 22:36:11 UTC
OMG! I love you so much for this author anon! I mean not only did you write such an awesome fic but you also decided to write what happens next... you are full of love! <33 and England!! "I promise you I’m every bit as big and rough as that fucking stick, with twice as much magic." “Twice as much magic? Was there ever any?” I love this! XD
America was thrown face first onto the bed, already panting heavily without any attempt at physical exertion. He looked over his shoulder to see England approaching slowly, broom in hand.
“Ahaha, England, you look really funny,” he stammered nervously, only to be cut off by a not-so-gentle swat of the broomstick on his head.
“Shut up, twat. It’ll be easier that way.”
Somehow England was able to undress him with only one hand, crafty little Brit. America really didn’t give him enough credit. Though he did need to put the broom in his mouth for a moment to undo his belt buckle, and America felt his stomach drop as his lips closed around the round, sleekly carved wooden hilt.
England noticed this and rolled his eyes. “It is the broom, isn’t it.”
“N-no…”
England threw off his pants and jacket but left on his button-down shirt, instead unbuttoning it and leaving it open to his thin, wiry chest. He took the broom in his hands - did America mention how skillful his hands were? - and grinded against it, moving his hips slowly up and down the handle and pressing his half-lidden eyes and thin, watery lips to the bristles at the head. Then he looked back at America, who had pretty much melted into a little puddle of stars and stripes.
“I knew it. It is the broom.” But rather than anger, England’s face spoke of devious glee. “Well if it’s the broom you’re so mad on, I suppose I’ll just have to go along with it…”
Before America could even begin to think what that meant, the unspoken question was answered, as something big, long and wooden but /not/ a cock was shoved straight into his entrance, roughly pushing its way into him.
The former colony gave an involuntary shudder of pain and instinctively clenched around the foreign intrusion but England kept pushing, silently marvelling at how bloody deep the little stick could go. He leapt up on top of America and straddled him, placing his knees comfortably on either side of his tense, smooth-skinned hips, and jammed the end of the broomstick in just a tad deeper, earning a little whimper of pain.
“Mmhgn…England…” America grit out.
“It’s a Firebolt, you git,” England panted. “It’s name is not England.”
He pulled the end of the broom out just a few centimetres, eliciting another groan.
“Unh…I know…” America’s voice was hard and strained. “But it’s … really not just about the broom, Iggy…”
England hesitated, and he was suddenly glad America’s face was pressed down into the sheets so he didn’t see his face flush bright red.
“Y-you mean…” All this time, he it honestly hadn’t occurred to him that America might actually…
“Nnng, wingardium leviosa,” America murmured breathily.
“…What?”
“That meant get that fucking thing out of me,” he hissed.
“Right, right.” England jerked the broom out of America’s ass, spraying himself with warm, sticky bodily fluids and provoking yet another sharp gasp of pleasured pain, followed by a loud exhalation of breath.
“Damnit, Iggy,” America panted, and rolled over to look up at him. “I don’t know what the fuck that was, but please don’t do it ever, ever do it again.”
England, also momentarily short on breath and still straddling him, looked down at him with wide, sweat-sheened eyes. “Ready for the real thing, then?”
“Only if it’s not as big and rough.”
England hit him over the head with the other end of the stick. “You bloody git. I promise you I’m every bit as big and rouch as that fucking stick, with twice as much magic.”
America grinned cheekily and turned willingly back over. “Twice as much magic? Was there ever any?”
England’s lips split into a positively evil smirk. “We’ll see, won’t we.”
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I mean not only did you write such an awesome fic but you also decided to write what happens next... you are full of love! <33
and England!!
"I promise you I’m every bit as big and rough as that fucking stick, with twice as much magic."
“Twice as much magic? Was there ever any?”
I love this! XD
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