Re: Bella Italiana - 3a/3
anonymous
March 8 2011, 03:54:03 UTC
England fumbled with the lock but managed to push open the door, the only light in the room coming in from outside. England clicked on the small lamp on the front table and pulled off his jacket as America clicked the door shut behind him.
No sooner had America shut the door then he was at England’s back, running his arms around England’s waist and kissing the back of his neck.
“You Americans, always so eager,” England said, and he heard America grunt behind him.
“We’re efficient,” he heard America say, and England turned around to envelop the younger man in a kiss. Within the next few minutes, England had America pinned to the king sized bed, straddling his waist, wearing only the fine dress pants he’d acquired that morning. America was leaning against the oak headboard, a pillow at the small of his back, nipping England’s stomach gently right above his abdomen. He had his arms wrapped around England’s waist, his fingers inching into the gap between the small of England’s back and his trousers, and England reached out and pulled the chord that controlled the curtains, and once they were pulled, he reeled back and got down to America’s level, kissing him forcefully on the mouth, unbuttoning his crisp white dress shirt and tossing it to the floor.
“That shirt’s brand new,” America muttered against England’s lips. “Just so y’know. S’good thing you moved it before I messed it up.”
“I didn’t realize you were so concerned for its safety,” England said back, and America blushed. This was a side of America he’d never seen before, a softer, politer side. It was strange. Was America always like this with strangers? To be honest, he never imagined sleeping with America would be like this, he always pictured them fighting and yelling and competing for dominance, since, well, that was their everyday life anyway. But this was different, it was loving and soft and sensual, and maybe it was just because they were being swept away by the romance of Italy, but it was different then England imagined it, and the next thing he knew they were one, and he could feel America’s breath on his neck. Their clothes had been completely discarded, mostly on the chair next to the bed, and the soft light from the lamp on the other side of the room made America’s well toned body glow as his muscles flexed as he moved with England.
It was perfect. That was, until-
“You sh-should speak Italian,” America said in a hoarse whisper, right into his ear. England faltered. Yes, of course America would find a way to completely screw this up. Although it was England’s fault for not actually knowing any real Italian. He knew that America was just in the moment and he also knew that America was known to have a bit of a language fetish-it probably came from being a melting pot-but there was no way he could get away with just some simple phrase. America was probably expecting something beautiful or poetic or even dirty, and England knew none of those things. So he did the only thing he could do to try to retain the atmosphere. He leaned down, close to America’s ear and said tentatively--
Re: Bella Italiana - 3b/3
anonymous
March 8 2011, 03:55:04 UTC
“...that’s amore?” America sniggered into England’s collarbone and let out a baleful laugh, and he opened his eyes and they shone on his sweaty face.
“You’re wonderful,” he said, and he drew England into a long, sensual kiss, and England knew that his answer had somehow been satisfactory. Apparently America appreciated the humor route, and England was glad when America didn’t ask for any more auditory requests.
America’s touches were like silk on his skin, and his heightened senses reeled at his fingertips. America had his arms wrapped around England’s neck, and England could feel him running his fingers down his back and back up his spine, caressing the nape of his neck, and the back of his head, running his fingers through his tousled hair. England wondered momentarily if his cover would be lost as his hair became messier, and well, he wasn’t hiding under the clothes anymore...
But those thoughts vanished from his mind as both he and America were lost to passion. He felt fingertips gripping at his back, digging into his flesh, but he didn’t mind. He was here, in a beautiful country, with America beneath him, moving in sync, kissing his lips furiously, along with his neck, his chin, his nose, anywhere he could reach, and was he really responsible for the sounds of utter pleasure America was making right now? He never thought he’d be in this moment.
He was in pain just a bit, especially since he’d been unprepared, but, then again, he didn’t anticipate that he’d be thrusting into America while in Italy. He also never expected to be in Italy this long, either, as a matter of fact why on earth was he still here?
But at that moment America pulled his head to his chest, and England kissed his neck, and he felt America arching his back at his touch, and his knees were bending up, and England brushed his foot against America’s toes and he could feel them curling in, and America gripped his neck and moaned in the softest way, and England had his lips pressed to the side of his sweaty neck all the way through climax, and he thought he heard a muttered “Arthur” but it was probably “Arturo”. England followed soon after and tried his hardest not to cry America’s name and it worked, kind of, although it came out more strangled then anything. He wanted to emulate the softness of America’s voice, which was toned down and hoarse with lust but, he just couldn’t. He collapsed onto America’s chest and ran his fingers through his hair, and he listened to America’s pounding heart and heavy breathing. England leaned up and pressed a kiss to his temple, and he pushed the wet blonde hair off of his face. He groped around for the towel he’d used that morning to shower and used it to clean both of them off, and then chucked it to the floor to be dealt with later. America turned to face England with a smile.
“I’d once been told that Italians make the greatest lovers,” America said, his voice still soft.
“Is it true?”
“I suppose so. Although you’re British too, so maybe it’s a combination of both,” America replied, and England felt his heart soar. He had somewhat successful seduced America, even if he had to pretend to be a different nationality to do it. Of course, one day, if they ever did this for real, he wondered if America would wonder why having sex with England was a lot like having sex with that Italian man...
The soothing sounds of the nightlife outside were like a lullaby, and within minutes he felt the even breathing of America’s chest. England couldn’t stop the fatigue from washing over him, and he soon fell into an easy sleep, America’s arms around him protectively, as if this were the way it was always meant to be.
“Alfred?”
“Mmmmhmm?”
“I’m leaving in the morning, so it’d be best if you could get up on the earlier side.”
“Mmmhmm,” America mumbled, but he was already mostly asleep. England closed his eyes and curled up, drifting off once more into a world of pleasant dreams and of America.
Re: Bella Italiana - 3c/3
anonymous
March 8 2011, 03:56:40 UTC
The next morning, America woke to find himself completely alone in the large room. England’s clothes were gone, and he saw a note on the bedside table.
Alfred- I’m afraid I had to leave on the earlier side. Something came up. I have the room until 9 a.m., so if you wake up earlier than that, feel free to stay there. Thank you for spending time with lonely me and I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful in locating your friend. -Arturo
America shuffled out from underneath the covers and stretched, his back aching. He pulled his clothes on and grabbed his bag from the edge of the bed, buttoning his cuffs. Part of him couldn’t believe that he’d really just done that, but on the other hand, part of him could. He ambled downstairs to the lobby of the inn and asked the innkeeper if they had a payphone or just a phone he could use. The woman kindly let him use the one behind the desk and he patiently dialed a number that would start ringing several countries away, in a big white building.
“This is the office of Arthur Kirkland, I’m afraid he’s... out,” a tentative voice said when someone picked up. America chuckled.
“It’s just me, Ch-Yao,” America said, realizing he was still in ear shot of the innkeeper. China faltered.
“Oh, hi, America. How are you?”
“I’m alright,” America said, straightening out his sleeve. “I meant to call yesterday but something came up. I found Arthur.”
“Did you now?” China said, and suddenly he was gone and his voice was replaced by France’s.
“You see, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Where was he, in jail?” France asked, and America could hear China’s protests in the background.
“No, he was in disguise. Masquerading as an Italian.” There was silence on the other end, and then France burst out laughing.
“Are you fucking kidding me? We’re at war and England decides it’s time to play dress-up? Good God. Where is he now?”
“Somewhere, he can’t have gone far, he has nowhere to go. I’ll find him,” America said patiently. “I think he was spying on Italy or something. They were here, at the very least. Both Feliciano and Ludwig. Not sure if they still are though.”
“Try not to get captured. And try to drag England away from his fantasies so he can be back tonight,” France said, irritation creeping into his voice. “What exactly kept you from letting us know this information yesterday?” America crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Oh, I was just letting England have some fun, y’know,” America said. “It’s not everyday we get to pretend to be something we’re not, now is it?” America couldn’t see it, but he knew France had a pensive look on his face.
“...did something happen yesterday?”
“Nope, nothing at all,” America said, and with that he bid his companions farewell as he hung up and went off into the morning to-once again-locate England. Maybe he’d be England this time around, but as America wandered he wondered exactly what was it that brought out England’s flirtatious side? Because he could get very, very used to that. Any sensible man could.
--
I let my imagination run away with me. So I'm not super awesome at smut, I'm still learning I guess, I've never really written it before so, if it's terrible, I'm so sorry! This was really fun to write though, I hope OP enjoys it!
Anon author here
anonymous
March 8 2011, 05:14:22 UTC
Also I forgot to mention... I liked the idea of England not revealing himself to America, but I also liked the idea of America kind of out smarting England and figuring it out but not letting on. So sorry I deviated from your original request...
I was expecting this to be just kind of silly, but this was a charming, excellent read. I really enjoying the ambiguity until the end; as a reader I hoped Alfred would secretly figure it out, especially when he raised an eyebrow at "Arturo" -- Way to go, super spy! XD -- but I never know how dense Alfred is going to be in fic. Just like how you can never tell for certain how clueless he is in canon, really, until you read the author's character notes.
And hey, this was as sexy as it was charming; with the addition of serious!France and intelligent!America, what more could I want? <3 I'd complain that it leaves me wanting more, but you really did choose a nice note to end this story on. I approve! I totally want to stalk your other writing now; I love your characterization, seriously. It makes me want to <3 all over the place.
Flattered anon is flattered
anonymous
March 8 2011, 14:00:52 UTC
Oh man, you have no idea how much you made me blush *-* This has to be one of the best comments I've ever received in the Hetalia fandom for my writings! Maybe I'll de-anon later when I'm not avoiding my other work oh hey, is that 100 pages of reading for English history? but really, this comment made my morning. Thank you so much!!
Re: Flattered anon is flattered
anonymous
March 8 2011, 20:51:11 UTC
*pokes your blushing cheek America-style <3*
But yeah, if you de-anon, I'll be psyched! XD S-so glad I'm out of school now; I don't think I did more than 5-10% of my reading the entire time I was in college ... >_>
Re: Bella Italiana - 3c/3
anonymous
March 8 2011, 15:55:45 UTC
God, that was hot...I'm not ready for babies, so I have nothing to give you Athor!Anon, but let me tell you that this was just wonderful! I asume there will be one more part? Please? With some smut?
No sooner had America shut the door then he was at England’s back, running his arms around England’s waist and kissing the back of his neck.
“You Americans, always so eager,” England said, and he heard America grunt behind him.
“We’re efficient,” he heard America say, and England turned around to envelop the younger man in a kiss. Within the next few minutes, England had America pinned to the king sized bed, straddling his waist, wearing only the fine dress pants he’d acquired that morning. America was leaning against the oak headboard, a pillow at the small of his back, nipping England’s stomach gently right above his abdomen. He had his arms wrapped around England’s waist, his fingers inching into the gap between the small of England’s back and his trousers, and England reached out and pulled the chord that controlled the curtains, and once they were pulled, he reeled back and got down to America’s level, kissing him forcefully on the mouth, unbuttoning his crisp white dress shirt and tossing it to the floor.
“That shirt’s brand new,” America muttered against England’s lips. “Just so y’know. S’good thing you moved it before I messed it up.”
“I didn’t realize you were so concerned for its safety,” England said back, and America blushed. This was a side of America he’d never seen before, a softer, politer side. It was strange. Was America always like this with strangers? To be honest, he never imagined sleeping with America would be like this, he always pictured them fighting and yelling and competing for dominance, since, well, that was their everyday life anyway. But this was different, it was loving and soft and sensual, and maybe it was just because they were being swept away by the romance of Italy, but it was different then England imagined it, and the next thing he knew they were one, and he could feel America’s breath on his neck. Their clothes had been completely discarded, mostly on the chair next to the bed, and the soft light from the lamp on the other side of the room made America’s well toned body glow as his muscles flexed as he moved with England.
It was perfect. That was, until-
“You sh-should speak Italian,” America said in a hoarse whisper, right into his ear. England faltered. Yes, of course America would find a way to completely screw this up. Although it was England’s fault for not actually knowing any real Italian. He knew that America was just in the moment and he also knew that America was known to have a bit of a language fetish-it probably came from being a melting pot-but there was no way he could get away with just some simple phrase. America was probably expecting something beautiful or poetic or even dirty, and England knew none of those things. So he did the only thing he could do to try to retain the atmosphere. He leaned down, close to America’s ear and said tentatively--
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“You’re wonderful,” he said, and he drew England into a long, sensual kiss, and England knew that his answer had somehow been satisfactory. Apparently America appreciated the humor route, and England was glad when America didn’t ask for any more auditory requests.
America’s touches were like silk on his skin, and his heightened senses reeled at his fingertips. America had his arms wrapped around England’s neck, and England could feel him running his fingers down his back and back up his spine, caressing the nape of his neck, and the back of his head, running his fingers through his tousled hair. England wondered momentarily if his cover would be lost as his hair became messier, and well, he wasn’t hiding under the clothes anymore...
But those thoughts vanished from his mind as both he and America were lost to passion. He felt fingertips gripping at his back, digging into his flesh, but he didn’t mind. He was here, in a beautiful country, with America beneath him, moving in sync, kissing his lips furiously, along with his neck, his chin, his nose, anywhere he could reach, and was he really responsible for the sounds of utter pleasure America was making right now? He never thought he’d be in this moment.
He was in pain just a bit, especially since he’d been unprepared, but, then again, he didn’t anticipate that he’d be thrusting into America while in Italy. He also never expected to be in Italy this long, either, as a matter of fact why on earth was he still here?
But at that moment America pulled his head to his chest, and England kissed his neck, and he felt America arching his back at his touch, and his knees were bending up, and England brushed his foot against America’s toes and he could feel them curling in, and America gripped his neck and moaned in the softest way, and England had his lips pressed to the side of his sweaty neck all the way through climax, and he thought he heard a muttered “Arthur” but it was probably “Arturo”. England followed soon after and tried his hardest not to cry America’s name and it worked, kind of, although it came out more strangled then anything. He wanted to emulate the softness of America’s voice, which was toned down and hoarse with lust but, he just couldn’t. He collapsed onto America’s chest and ran his fingers through his hair, and he listened to America’s pounding heart and heavy breathing. England leaned up and pressed a kiss to his temple, and he pushed the wet blonde hair off of his face. He groped around for the towel he’d used that morning to shower and used it to clean both of them off, and then chucked it to the floor to be dealt with later. America turned to face England with a smile.
“I’d once been told that Italians make the greatest lovers,” America said, his voice still soft.
“Is it true?”
“I suppose so. Although you’re British too, so maybe it’s a combination of both,” America replied, and England felt his heart soar. He had somewhat successful seduced America, even if he had to pretend to be a different nationality to do it. Of course, one day, if they ever did this for real, he wondered if America would wonder why having sex with England was a lot like having sex with that Italian man...
The soothing sounds of the nightlife outside were like a lullaby, and within minutes he felt the even breathing of America’s chest. England couldn’t stop the fatigue from washing over him, and he soon fell into an easy sleep, America’s arms around him protectively, as if this were the way it was always meant to be.
“Alfred?”
“Mmmmhmm?”
“I’m leaving in the morning, so it’d be best if you could get up on the earlier side.”
“Mmmhmm,” America mumbled, but he was already mostly asleep. England closed his eyes and curled up, drifting off once more into a world of pleasant dreams and of America.
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Alfred-
I’m afraid I had to leave on the earlier side. Something came up. I have the room until 9 a.m., so if you wake up earlier than that, feel free to stay there. Thank you for spending time with lonely me and I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful in locating your friend.
-Arturo
America shuffled out from underneath the covers and stretched, his back aching. He pulled his clothes on and grabbed his bag from the edge of the bed, buttoning his cuffs. Part of him couldn’t believe that he’d really just done that, but on the other hand, part of him could. He ambled downstairs to the lobby of the inn and asked the innkeeper if they had a payphone or just a phone he could use. The woman kindly let him use the one behind the desk and he patiently dialed a number that would start ringing several countries away, in a big white building.
“This is the office of Arthur Kirkland, I’m afraid he’s... out,” a tentative voice said when someone picked up. America chuckled.
“It’s just me, Ch-Yao,” America said, realizing he was still in ear shot of the innkeeper. China faltered.
“Oh, hi, America. How are you?”
“I’m alright,” America said, straightening out his sleeve. “I meant to call yesterday but something came up. I found Arthur.”
“Did you now?” China said, and suddenly he was gone and his voice was replaced by France’s.
“You see, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Where was he, in jail?” France asked, and America could hear China’s protests in the background.
“No, he was in disguise. Masquerading as an Italian.” There was silence on the other end, and then France burst out laughing.
“Are you fucking kidding me? We’re at war and England decides it’s time to play dress-up? Good God. Where is he now?”
“Somewhere, he can’t have gone far, he has nowhere to go. I’ll find him,” America said patiently. “I think he was spying on Italy or something. They were here, at the very least. Both Feliciano and Ludwig. Not sure if they still are though.”
“Try not to get captured. And try to drag England away from his fantasies so he can be back tonight,” France said, irritation creeping into his voice. “What exactly kept you from letting us know this information yesterday?” America crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Oh, I was just letting England have some fun, y’know,” America said. “It’s not everyday we get to pretend to be something we’re not, now is it?” America couldn’t see it, but he knew France had a pensive look on his face.
“...did something happen yesterday?”
“Nope, nothing at all,” America said, and with that he bid his companions farewell as he hung up and went off into the morning to-once again-locate England. Maybe he’d be England this time around, but as America wandered he wondered exactly what was it that brought out England’s flirtatious side? Because he could get very, very used to that. Any sensible man could.
--
I let my imagination run away with me. So I'm not super awesome at smut, I'm still learning I guess, I've never really written it before so, if it's terrible, I'm so sorry! This was really fun to write though, I hope OP enjoys it!
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And hey, this was as sexy as it was charming; with the addition of serious!France and intelligent!America, what more could I want? <3 I'd complain that it leaves me wanting more, but you really did choose a nice note to end this story on. I approve! I totally want to stalk your other writing now; I love your characterization, seriously. It makes me want to <3 all over the place.
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But yeah, if you de-anon, I'll be psyched! XD S-so glad I'm out of school now; I don't think I did more than 5-10% of my reading the entire time I was in college ... >_>
<3
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This was so gorgeously written. I had a feeling it would end with America knowing/not-so-oblivious! Sneaky-sneak
“It’s not everyday we get to pretend to be something we’re not, now is it?”
Very nice and true to the concept Author!Anon.
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