[Part 7] Be My Anchor, Be My Moor (US/UK) [5/8]
anonymous
April 21 2011, 05:40:04 UTC
Carefully, America pulled his hands from under England’s knees and reached around him, pulling at the knot on the front of his neck blindly until it fell away and England’s legs, suddenly deprived of their support, sprawled out across the bed. The newly freed rope fell to his hips, partially held in place where it was trapped between England’s back and arms. Gently, America let England lay forward between his legs, leaning backward as he pulled England’s legs, almost as malleable as jelly at this point, around so he was facing him, then leaned him back up to sit properly in his lap, never fully pulling out.
He wove his fingers in England’s tied up ones, kissing him softly and holding him up as England melted against him. “Love ya, darlin’,” America breathed into his mouth. England hummed, smiling into the kiss.
“Forever last,” he breathed back, keeping with his habit of spouting pretty poetic nonsense post-orgasm. America smiled.
“Ready for more?” he said quietly, trailing his lips from England’s mouth up his cheek to his temple, his ear, his neck. England laughed.
“Whatever you wish, love.” He hooked his ankles behind America’s back and rolled his hips, making America hiss and switch his grip to England’s thighs, stopping him before it was too late. He untied his hands from his neck and pulled out at last, lying England back against the pillows as he rolled his slightly sore neck around, stretching his wonderfully burning muscles. England grinned up at him, and any misgivings America had fluttering about at the rough treatment flew out of the room. He grinned back as he finally shucked off his pants and underwear before straddling England once more.
America flipped him over, lifting him up and turning him face down so he stayed between his legs, and quickly tugged apart the knots at his wrists - pulled tighter through the natural strain of England’s struggles for freedom, but the skin underneath was only a little red so far, so he would wait to worry until they were done. He put the rope in his teeth for a moment as he flipped him back over, then smirked before scooting further up England’s body to stretch his hands out wide, tying one to a post in the headboard with the rope in his teeth and the other with one of the shorter halves that he had tied his ankles with for those few minutes, arms spread out almost completely across the bed. England bucked slightly beneath him, testing the new bonds and quickly discovering a wrist flick that let him grip the posts he was tied to. America sat down on his chest, pinning him in place without resting his entire weight on him because he wanted to get the message across, not break any ribs. England swore and America laughed, finishing the knots on the second hand and sitting up, towering over England’s prone form on his knees. England was staring at his cock, condom still on, tongue coating his lips so slowly that America had doubts he even realized he was doing it.
He wove his fingers in England’s tied up ones, kissing him softly and holding him up as England melted against him. “Love ya, darlin’,” America breathed into his mouth. England hummed, smiling into the kiss.
“Forever last,” he breathed back, keeping with his habit of spouting pretty poetic nonsense post-orgasm. America smiled.
“Ready for more?” he said quietly, trailing his lips from England’s mouth up his cheek to his temple, his ear, his neck. England laughed.
“Whatever you wish, love.” He hooked his ankles behind America’s back and rolled his hips, making America hiss and switch his grip to England’s thighs, stopping him before it was too late. He untied his hands from his neck and pulled out at last, lying England back against the pillows as he rolled his slightly sore neck around, stretching his wonderfully burning muscles. England grinned up at him, and any misgivings America had fluttering about at the rough treatment flew out of the room. He grinned back as he finally shucked off his pants and underwear before straddling England once more.
America flipped him over, lifting him up and turning him face down so he stayed between his legs, and quickly tugged apart the knots at his wrists - pulled tighter through the natural strain of England’s struggles for freedom, but the skin underneath was only a little red so far, so he would wait to worry until they were done. He put the rope in his teeth for a moment as he flipped him back over, then smirked before scooting further up England’s body to stretch his hands out wide, tying one to a post in the headboard with the rope in his teeth and the other with one of the shorter halves that he had tied his ankles with for those few minutes, arms spread out almost completely across the bed. England bucked slightly beneath him, testing the new bonds and quickly discovering a wrist flick that let him grip the posts he was tied to. America sat down on his chest, pinning him in place without resting his entire weight on him because he wanted to get the message across, not break any ribs. England swore and America laughed, finishing the knots on the second hand and sitting up, towering over England’s prone form on his knees. England was staring at his cock, condom still on, tongue coating his lips so slowly that America had doubts he even realized he was doing it.
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