Our Colors [1d/?]
anonymous
May 2 2011, 01:36:37 UTC
Candelabras were all over the place. There was one on each of the two matching bedside tables, two on England's desk in the corner, three on the dresser, and a few on top of the multitude of bookshelves that held the manuscripts England loved the most. Each one held three candles: one red, one blue, and a white one on the center prong. There was very soft music playing in the background, a flute and a harp from the sound of it. And then there in the middle of the room, drawing him in like a cat to a beam of sunlight, was England's massive king-size bed. America could tell that the sheets themselves were a royal blue, the color that England usually slept with, but the quilt on top seemed to be flecked with red and white.
Not quite believing it, the blond took a couple of steps forwards until he was right next to the bed. He leaned down and very gently, almost fearing that this was all an illusion, picked up what sure as hell looked like a rose petal. It felt like one too: all soft and silky.
It was a lot to take in for the young nation. Here was the bedroom that was usually so bland done up like something straight out of the cheesiest, most romantic movie in Hollywood. It was beautiful, it was perfect. It made his chest feel tight when he realized that England had done this for him, all for him. Even if the room wasn't bathed in America's colors (although in all fairness they were England's colors too) just the candlelight, the music, and the rose petals would have been enough to prove that the Brit had done this solely for his lover. England was always perfectly content to make love anywhere private; America knew that all that mattered to him was the emotions that they exchanged, even if he never said so. He thought that it was too much work to properly romance someone, even if he still required such exaggerated prep beforehand. America was the one who loved the glamour, the art in the actual act.
This wasn't like the Brit. No matter how the man felt deep in his heart, he'd never show it like this. He'd show it in smaller ways: by always having coffee in his kitchen and the bubblegum toothpaste that America loved so much in his bathroom, by randomly leaning on America's shoulder when they were just sitting together, by kissing chastely and holding hands after they made love. If there was one thing that England wasn't, it was blatant with his affections. To see that he had acted out and actually put all of this together…
There was the click of a light switch and a creek of a door closing.
America turned to look back. England was sanding there, just as naked as he was. His face was a light shade of pink, colored by embarrassment. One hand still rested on the knob of the bathroom door. He was worrying at his lower lip.
"You did this," America said.
"I did," England started to fidget with the door's trim.
"Why?" America asked. He regretted it almost as soon as the word left his mouth. It would sound like an accusation, like he wasn't grateful that England would work this hard for him. Green eyes flashed up to meet blue, but he continued to bite at his lip.
"I…" His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, unable to say it.
America was just quiet. England took time to actually spit things out, that was one of the first things that the younger nation had learned dating England. He tried to keep his gaze level and not push his boyfriend one way or another.
"Do you like it?" The older man finally asked.
He looked so small right now. England wasn't really short, and even though he was slim he wasn't scrawny. And yet, in spite of that, right then he seemed positively tiny. He looked vulnerable standing there stark naked and looking at America, silently pleading, just pleading, for approval. Well, like Hell America wasn't gonna give it to him.
"I love it, England," He couldn't help but smile, "But I gotta know why you're doing this; it's not like you."
Our Colors [1e/?]
anonymous
May 2 2011, 01:38:17 UTC
England visibly steeled his resolve and strode purposefully to where America was standing, "Because I…" He took a deep breath, "I love you. I really do, America. I know that I never say it, but-"
America smiled and wrapped his arms around England's chest, pulling him into a hug, "It's okay; neither of us do, but I know it."
"Do you?" England asked.
"Do I what?" America replied, loosening his grip so that he could look at England.
"Do you really know?"
"Of course," America said, smiling "You told me back in the forties, and a hero never doubts his princess."
England scowled, "I am doing this for your sake, but don't call me a princess or your face will match your flag."
America laughed, "Good to know you're still in there, buddy."
England rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched upwards for a moment. He gently pushed on America's chest, making it obvious that he wanted him on the bed. America carefully lay down, trying desperately not to mess up the petals too much since they were probably a bitch to get evenly like that. Still, eventually he managed to get more or less in the middle of the bed without leaving too big of a trail. England was on top of him within a few seconds.
America pulled the England's head down; gently forming his lips to the other man's and rubbing their tongues together in a slow dance. As the kiss went on, the older nation let himself rest more and more of his weight on America. The larger man didn't mind: he was more than strong enough to deal with the burden of an England on his chest.
When the kiss broke apart, the two of them just looked at each other. England had the sweetest little smile on his face, and even though his eyes were half-lidded, they were still shining with love. America, as usual, was the one to break the silence.
"You're beautiful," he said.
England blushed and America smiled back, well aware that that was as close as he was getting to a 'thank you' or a returned compliment.
"Whatever," the Brit finally said, "would you mind putting your hands above your head and holding onto the slats in the headboard?"
"You're tying me up tonight?" America asked, "Seems kind of against to the massive amount of Hollywood mood ya got here."
"Belt up," England said, pulling a length of red chord from under the pillow and going to work on America's wrists.
The younger man relaxed, being more used to being tied to England's headboard than he'd like to admit. Every two seconds it seemed like his partner would ask if it was alright, if the rope was too tight or too loose or if the position was going to make America sore. Every time, America would answer that no, it was okay and that England knew full well how to bind someone properly and could probably do this while they were both asleep. Once he quipped that if he didn't hurry up they might be and England smacked him for it. For some reason, probably as punishment for making fun of him, England insisted on lashing his ankles to the footboard too.
"Alright," America said, as England tied the final knot "I ain't gonna get out of this. Let's get started," He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"No," England said, turning around and sitting on his lover's thighs.
"What do you mean 'no'?" America demanded, "You're just gonna leave me like this?"
"Now, that's not what I said. I said that I'm not going to copulate with you yet."
"Then what are you going to do?" America asked, ignoring that England had used the least sexy word for sex ever and that he was more than a little bit peeved that he wasn't going to get any right away and choosing instead to be excited.
Instead of answering his question, England placed his hand on America's cheek, "You have no idea how lovely you are, do you?" He asked, "I know that you like to say that you're the sexiest man alive, but you don't really think that."
Our Colors [1f/?]
anonymous
May 2 2011, 01:39:20 UTC
"S-so?" America asked, blushing and looking away, "Aren't you the one who always says I could use some humility?"
"I am, but you truly are quite fit and I want to enjoy the fact that I have you for myself." He very slowly started to let his eyes trail down America's body, taking in every minute detail. America blushed and started to squirm. It felt like England was appraising him like a horse he was thinking of buying.
"S-stop it," He said.
England's eyes flashed up to America's, "You don't like this?"
"I-I just feel awkward when you're staring at me like that. I don't want you to look."
"Why not?" England asked, "You love to be the only thing that people are paying attention to."
"Yeah, but still," he started to wiggle, "I don't like being all exposed."
"That's a shame," England said, "I was enjoying the view."
America tried to at least close his legs, but it was impossible with the ties around his ankles and the man on his thighs.
"It's alright. If you want me to stop, I'll stop." He leaned down and nuzzled America, "Besides, I don't have to look to appreciate how lovely you are."
"I still don't quite know about this, England…"
England gently hushed him and soothingly brushed his fingers along America's cheek.
"Don't worry, love," he said, "I'll make sure that you enjoy this too."
And with that he claimed America's lips once again. He was still being gentile, but there was a little bit more force than before. Maybe he was a little bit surer of this now that he had stated his intentions and his lover was tied up. That made one of them. America couldn't help but feel awkward even as England pulled away and gave him a reassuring smile.
England began to play with his hair, wrapping some of it around his fingers and massaging the scalp. America couldn't help but let out a contented sigh and relax. England knew that he couldn't resist it when he teased his head like that. It was a little something that they had both learned when England didn't believe America when he said Nantucket was nothing more than a particularly stubborn chunk of hair.
Hands still rubbing America's skull, England dipped down to kiss at America's forehead and nibble his ears. The younger blond let out a yelp when England's teeth grazed a spot behind his ear.
"What was that?" England asked.
"Nothing," America said, feeling blood rush to his face along with… other places.
The younger man could feel England's smirk against his skin, "You liked it when I bit you here, didn't you?"
He nipped sharply at the small area. America didn't yelp this time, but he did let out a ragged exhale and shivered.
England let out a little laugh, "I'll remember that for later."
"England," America whined, "Don't tease me, man."
"I'm not teasing, I'm exploring," England said.
"Sure," America said, rolling his eyes.
England nipped the spot again in a (successful) attempt to shut him up before moving down to his collarbone. He didn't bite at it, but started to suck and lick along the entire length, starting at one shoulder and heading towards the other. Dear Lord, England was better with his mouth than America had ever known. He was switching between forcing him down with the wide wet presses from his tongue and pulling him up with the hot noisy suction of his mouth. Sometimes he would manage to do both at the same time for a sensation that was contradictory but felt so good. America could barely breathe as it was, but then England's hands left his hair and traveled downwards to caress his pecs, fingernails occasionally biting into his nipples and sending shocks down his spine all the way to his groin. America let out a scream when England finally got to the space right above his sternum.
"You like that, huh?" England asked, looking up at America.
Our Colors [1g/?]
anonymous
May 2 2011, 01:41:24 UTC
What was wrong with him? He'd made a lot of noise before, but he'd never screamed. It must be the candlelight, he decided. The candlelight made everything more erotic, and then there were also the soft rose petals beneath him and music all around that turned him on even more. Yeah, that was it. Nothing about being tied up, or about England taking it so slowly and lavishing him with attention. It was all the room's fault. And he totally still wanted to just get it on. Yeah.
"Getting eager, are we?" The older man teased.
"'S not my fault that you're messing with me like that," America muttered.
"It's okay, lad," England said, sliding his hands down America's sides to rest at his hips.
As the fingers trailed over his skin America shivered and let out a snort of laughter. England's eyes flashed up to meet his own, and America tried to look casual. Apparently he had tried to hard, because England's confused expression morphed into a sadistic smirk.
"What's this?" He asked, sliding his hands back up.
The younger man shivered again and actually laughed. "It's nothing. Nothing at all. Just, um, keep doing what you were doing."
"Alright," England said, but the smirk didn't leave.
He placed his hands on America's waist and started moving his fingers in circles, barely brushing the skin. The larger nation couldn't help but start to squirm.
"H- hey, stop it!"
"What? You said to keep doing what I was doing, and I was lavishing you with attention. I still am."
"No. You were rubbing and kissing and-" England grabbed at his side and he had to clench his jaw so as not to giggle, "-stuff like that."
"And what am I doing now?" England asked.
"Now you're- you're- Aaah!" America let out a cry as England nuzzled his belly.
"You're ticklish." England said against his skin.
"N-not at all."
"Oh, yes you are," His fingers raced up and down America's stomach and the younger man let out a cry and a series of laughs. The older man looked up so that he could watch his lover shriek.
"Okay, Okay, I am," America conceded, "So what?" He looked down at England with an expression that dared him to make something of it.
"Nothing, but I'll remember this," He gave a series of small, innocent kisses to a spot just below America's belly button.
For some reason, those quick little touches were beyond arousing. It was like every little peck was accompanied by a stroke of his cock. It felt good beyond belief. Even though England's lips were chapped, they were still soft and they formed against America's stomach every bit as well as they had formed against his lips. He could feel England's smile, reassuring him and telling him that his lover was enjoying giving the attention just as much as he did getting it. The blond began to wiggle again, but now it was in the good way. He wanted more of England. He didn't know in what way, he just wanted more, and told him so. England just laughed against his skin and America let out a keening noise and let his eyes slide closed. His cock hadn't been touched yet but he was close, so very close.
The smaller nation's hands truly began rubbing now, applying enough force to be arousing and not annoying. However, the younger man couldn't help but wonder if England wasn't still teasing him. America knew full well that in spite of his finest efforts, he could never get rid of the small layer of fat that covered his entire belly. England had sworn repeatedly that he didn't really mean it when he called America fat and asserted that no country truly dedicated to their job had the time to maintain a six pack anyway. Still, it seemed as though right now he was focusing on places where the fat was thicker and America's belly was even more yielding.
Our Colors [1h/?]
anonymous
May 2 2011, 01:42:17 UTC
The younger nation looked back down at England to tell him off. However, when he saw the look on his face, he couldn't say a thing. America knew that he had been smiling, but he didn't know how loving and tender the expression was. He didn't know the way that England's eyes were following his hands and looking at the pudgier spots as though they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He didn't know how damn sexy England looked when he was acting upon love and adoration that seemed to all but consume him.
America threw his head back and swallowed. It was him that was doing this to England, no one else. The Brit had just told him that he loved him, but those words didn't reveal nearly as much as the look on his face. It was too perfect, too wonderful to even look at. And yet, he opened his eyes again and just stared down at England.
The older man seemed to feel America's eyes on him, because he looked up and smiled. He apparently decided to move on to America's right hip, which they both knew was sensitive, but on the way he accidentally lightly brushed the very tip of America's arousal and the younger nation came with a loud moan. He noticed a hand come up and begin to milk him and a pair of lips descend upon that spot.
Even after America had finished, England still continued to lick and nip at that spot on his hip. His hands played across America's thighs and other hip, and occasionally they'd touch somewhere that made the younger blond let out a sigh or soft groan.
England turned around so that he could get at America's legs without bending too oddly or falling off the bed. However, that left a throbbing British cock right in front of America's mouth, which the other man gladly took.
The older nation let out a groan and looked down through his arms and legs at America. The larger county just smirked and gave a particularly hard suck.
"You're done messing around aren't you?" England asked.
America didn't answer, but he bobbed his head back before coming back up. A delightful shiver ran all the way down England's body.
"Alright, then," The Brit said, grinning down at him, "Don't expect me to go easy on you."
Re: Our Colors [1h/?]
anonymous
May 3 2011, 18:50:29 UTC
This is fucking amazing. ;_______; All of my love forever. I absolutely love the writing on this, and the love between them, it's just... fsdjkfsd//////
a-also ticklish!America is one of my biggest weaknesses/// I LOVE YOU AUTHORANON//
Candelabras were all over the place. There was one on each of the two matching bedside tables, two on England's desk in the corner, three on the dresser, and a few on top of the multitude of bookshelves that held the manuscripts England loved the most. Each one held three candles: one red, one blue, and a white one on the center prong. There was very soft music playing in the background, a flute and a harp from the sound of it. And then there in the middle of the room, drawing him in like a cat to a beam of sunlight, was England's massive king-size bed. America could tell that the sheets themselves were a royal blue, the color that England usually slept with, but the quilt on top seemed to be flecked with red and white.
Not quite believing it, the blond took a couple of steps forwards until he was right next to the bed. He leaned down and very gently, almost fearing that this was all an illusion, picked up what sure as hell looked like a rose petal. It felt like one too: all soft and silky.
It was a lot to take in for the young nation. Here was the bedroom that was usually so bland done up like something straight out of the cheesiest, most romantic movie in Hollywood. It was beautiful, it was perfect. It made his chest feel tight when he realized that England had done this for him, all for him. Even if the room wasn't bathed in America's colors (although in all fairness they were England's colors too) just the candlelight, the music, and the rose petals would have been enough to prove that the Brit had done this solely for his lover. England was always perfectly content to make love anywhere private; America knew that all that mattered to him was the emotions that they exchanged, even if he never said so. He thought that it was too much work to properly romance someone, even if he still required such exaggerated prep beforehand. America was the one who loved the glamour, the art in the actual act.
This wasn't like the Brit. No matter how the man felt deep in his heart, he'd never show it like this. He'd show it in smaller ways: by always having coffee in his kitchen and the bubblegum toothpaste that America loved so much in his bathroom, by randomly leaning on America's shoulder when they were just sitting together, by kissing chastely and holding hands after they made love. If there was one thing that England wasn't, it was blatant with his affections. To see that he had acted out and actually put all of this together…
There was the click of a light switch and a creek of a door closing.
America turned to look back. England was sanding there, just as naked as he was. His face was a light shade of pink, colored by embarrassment. One hand still rested on the knob of the bathroom door. He was worrying at his lower lip.
"You did this," America said.
"I did," England started to fidget with the door's trim.
"Why?" America asked. He regretted it almost as soon as the word left his mouth. It would sound like an accusation, like he wasn't grateful that England would work this hard for him. Green eyes flashed up to meet blue, but he continued to bite at his lip.
"I…" His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, unable to say it.
America was just quiet. England took time to actually spit things out, that was one of the first things that the younger nation had learned dating England. He tried to keep his gaze level and not push his boyfriend one way or another.
"Do you like it?" The older man finally asked.
He looked so small right now. England wasn't really short, and even though he was slim he wasn't scrawny. And yet, in spite of that, right then he seemed positively tiny. He looked vulnerable standing there stark naked and looking at America, silently pleading, just pleading, for approval. Well, like Hell America wasn't gonna give it to him.
"I love it, England," He couldn't help but smile, "But I gotta know why you're doing this; it's not like you."
Reply
England visibly steeled his resolve and strode purposefully to where America was standing, "Because I…" He took a deep breath, "I love you. I really do, America. I know that I never say it, but-"
America smiled and wrapped his arms around England's chest, pulling him into a hug, "It's okay; neither of us do, but I know it."
"Do you?" England asked.
"Do I what?" America replied, loosening his grip so that he could look at England.
"Do you really know?"
"Of course," America said, smiling "You told me back in the forties, and a hero never doubts his princess."
England scowled, "I am doing this for your sake, but don't call me a princess or your face will match your flag."
America laughed, "Good to know you're still in there, buddy."
England rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched upwards for a moment. He gently pushed on America's chest, making it obvious that he wanted him on the bed. America carefully lay down, trying desperately not to mess up the petals too much since they were probably a bitch to get evenly like that. Still, eventually he managed to get more or less in the middle of the bed without leaving too big of a trail. England was on top of him within a few seconds.
America pulled the England's head down; gently forming his lips to the other man's and rubbing their tongues together in a slow dance. As the kiss went on, the older nation let himself rest more and more of his weight on America. The larger man didn't mind: he was more than strong enough to deal with the burden of an England on his chest.
When the kiss broke apart, the two of them just looked at each other. England had the sweetest little smile on his face, and even though his eyes were half-lidded, they were still shining with love. America, as usual, was the one to break the silence.
"You're beautiful," he said.
England blushed and America smiled back, well aware that that was as close as he was getting to a 'thank you' or a returned compliment.
"Whatever," the Brit finally said, "would you mind putting your hands above your head and holding onto the slats in the headboard?"
"You're tying me up tonight?" America asked, "Seems kind of against to the massive amount of Hollywood mood ya got here."
"Belt up," England said, pulling a length of red chord from under the pillow and going to work on America's wrists.
The younger man relaxed, being more used to being tied to England's headboard than he'd like to admit. Every two seconds it seemed like his partner would ask if it was alright, if the rope was too tight or too loose or if the position was going to make America sore. Every time, America would answer that no, it was okay and that England knew full well how to bind someone properly and could probably do this while they were both asleep. Once he quipped that if he didn't hurry up they might be and England smacked him for it. For some reason, probably as punishment for making fun of him, England insisted on lashing his ankles to the footboard too.
"Alright," America said, as England tied the final knot "I ain't gonna get out of this. Let's get started," He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"No," England said, turning around and sitting on his lover's thighs.
"What do you mean 'no'?" America demanded, "You're just gonna leave me like this?"
"Now, that's not what I said. I said that I'm not going to copulate with you yet."
"Then what are you going to do?" America asked, ignoring that England had used the least sexy word for sex ever and that he was more than a little bit peeved that he wasn't going to get any right away and choosing instead to be excited.
Instead of answering his question, England placed his hand on America's cheek, "You have no idea how lovely you are, do you?" He asked, "I know that you like to say that you're the sexiest man alive, but you don't really think that."
Reply
"S-so?" America asked, blushing and looking away, "Aren't you the one who always says I could use some humility?"
"I am, but you truly are quite fit and I want to enjoy the fact that I have you for myself." He very slowly started to let his eyes trail down America's body, taking in every minute detail. America blushed and started to squirm. It felt like England was appraising him like a horse he was thinking of buying.
"S-stop it," He said.
England's eyes flashed up to America's, "You don't like this?"
"I-I just feel awkward when you're staring at me like that. I don't want you to look."
"Why not?" England asked, "You love to be the only thing that people are paying attention to."
"Yeah, but still," he started to wiggle, "I don't like being all exposed."
"That's a shame," England said, "I was enjoying the view."
America tried to at least close his legs, but it was impossible with the ties around his ankles and the man on his thighs.
"It's alright. If you want me to stop, I'll stop." He leaned down and nuzzled America, "Besides, I don't have to look to appreciate how lovely you are."
"I still don't quite know about this, England…"
England gently hushed him and soothingly brushed his fingers along America's cheek.
"Don't worry, love," he said, "I'll make sure that you enjoy this too."
And with that he claimed America's lips once again. He was still being gentile, but there was a little bit more force than before. Maybe he was a little bit surer of this now that he had stated his intentions and his lover was tied up. That made one of them. America couldn't help but feel awkward even as England pulled away and gave him a reassuring smile.
England began to play with his hair, wrapping some of it around his fingers and massaging the scalp. America couldn't help but let out a contented sigh and relax. England knew that he couldn't resist it when he teased his head like that. It was a little something that they had both learned when England didn't believe America when he said Nantucket was nothing more than a particularly stubborn chunk of hair.
Hands still rubbing America's skull, England dipped down to kiss at America's forehead and nibble his ears. The younger blond let out a yelp when England's teeth grazed a spot behind his ear.
"What was that?" England asked.
"Nothing," America said, feeling blood rush to his face along with… other places.
The younger man could feel England's smirk against his skin, "You liked it when I bit you here, didn't you?"
He nipped sharply at the small area. America didn't yelp this time, but he did let out a ragged exhale and shivered.
England let out a little laugh, "I'll remember that for later."
"England," America whined, "Don't tease me, man."
"I'm not teasing, I'm exploring," England said.
"Sure," America said, rolling his eyes.
England nipped the spot again in a (successful) attempt to shut him up before moving down to his collarbone. He didn't bite at it, but started to suck and lick along the entire length, starting at one shoulder and heading towards the other. Dear Lord, England was better with his mouth than America had ever known. He was switching between forcing him down with the wide wet presses from his tongue and pulling him up with the hot noisy suction of his mouth. Sometimes he would manage to do both at the same time for a sensation that was contradictory but felt so good. America could barely breathe as it was, but then England's hands left his hair and traveled downwards to caress his pecs, fingernails occasionally biting into his nipples and sending shocks down his spine all the way to his groin. America let out a scream when England finally got to the space right above his sternum.
"You like that, huh?" England asked, looking up at America.
"Sh-shut up." America said, "Just keep moving."
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What was wrong with him? He'd made a lot of noise before, but he'd never screamed. It must be the candlelight, he decided. The candlelight made everything more erotic, and then there were also the soft rose petals beneath him and music all around that turned him on even more. Yeah, that was it. Nothing about being tied up, or about England taking it so slowly and lavishing him with attention. It was all the room's fault. And he totally still wanted to just get it on. Yeah.
"Getting eager, are we?" The older man teased.
"'S not my fault that you're messing with me like that," America muttered.
"It's okay, lad," England said, sliding his hands down America's sides to rest at his hips.
As the fingers trailed over his skin America shivered and let out a snort of laughter. England's eyes flashed up to meet his own, and America tried to look casual. Apparently he had tried to hard, because England's confused expression morphed into a sadistic smirk.
"What's this?" He asked, sliding his hands back up.
The younger man shivered again and actually laughed. "It's nothing. Nothing at all. Just, um, keep doing what you were doing."
"Alright," England said, but the smirk didn't leave.
He placed his hands on America's waist and started moving his fingers in circles, barely brushing the skin. The larger nation couldn't help but start to squirm.
"H- hey, stop it!"
"What? You said to keep doing what I was doing, and I was lavishing you with attention. I still am."
"No. You were rubbing and kissing and-" England grabbed at his side and he had to clench his jaw so as not to giggle, "-stuff like that."
"And what am I doing now?" England asked.
"Now you're- you're- Aaah!" America let out a cry as England nuzzled his belly.
"You're ticklish." England said against his skin.
"N-not at all."
"Oh, yes you are," His fingers raced up and down America's stomach and the younger man let out a cry and a series of laughs. The older man looked up so that he could watch his lover shriek.
"Okay, Okay, I am," America conceded, "So what?" He looked down at England with an expression that dared him to make something of it.
"Nothing, but I'll remember this," He gave a series of small, innocent kisses to a spot just below America's belly button.
For some reason, those quick little touches were beyond arousing. It was like every little peck was accompanied by a stroke of his cock. It felt good beyond belief. Even though England's lips were chapped, they were still soft and they formed against America's stomach every bit as well as they had formed against his lips. He could feel England's smile, reassuring him and telling him that his lover was enjoying giving the attention just as much as he did getting it. The blond began to wiggle again, but now it was in the good way. He wanted more of England. He didn't know in what way, he just wanted more, and told him so. England just laughed against his skin and America let out a keening noise and let his eyes slide closed. His cock hadn't been touched yet but he was close, so very close.
The smaller nation's hands truly began rubbing now, applying enough force to be arousing and not annoying. However, the younger man couldn't help but wonder if England wasn't still teasing him. America knew full well that in spite of his finest efforts, he could never get rid of the small layer of fat that covered his entire belly. England had sworn repeatedly that he didn't really mean it when he called America fat and asserted that no country truly dedicated to their job had the time to maintain a six pack anyway. Still, it seemed as though right now he was focusing on places where the fat was thicker and America's belly was even more yielding.
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The younger nation looked back down at England to tell him off. However, when he saw the look on his face, he couldn't say a thing. America knew that he had been smiling, but he didn't know how loving and tender the expression was. He didn't know the way that England's eyes were following his hands and looking at the pudgier spots as though they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He didn't know how damn sexy England looked when he was acting upon love and adoration that seemed to all but consume him.
America threw his head back and swallowed. It was him that was doing this to England, no one else. The Brit had just told him that he loved him, but those words didn't reveal nearly as much as the look on his face. It was too perfect, too wonderful to even look at. And yet, he opened his eyes again and just stared down at England.
The older man seemed to feel America's eyes on him, because he looked up and smiled. He apparently decided to move on to America's right hip, which they both knew was sensitive, but on the way he accidentally lightly brushed the very tip of America's arousal and the younger nation came with a loud moan. He noticed a hand come up and begin to milk him and a pair of lips descend upon that spot.
Even after America had finished, England still continued to lick and nip at that spot on his hip. His hands played across America's thighs and other hip, and occasionally they'd touch somewhere that made the younger blond let out a sigh or soft groan.
England turned around so that he could get at America's legs without bending too oddly or falling off the bed. However, that left a throbbing British cock right in front of America's mouth, which the other man gladly took.
The older nation let out a groan and looked down through his arms and legs at America. The larger county just smirked and gave a particularly hard suck.
"You're done messing around aren't you?" England asked.
America didn't answer, but he bobbed his head back before coming back up. A delightful shiver ran all the way down England's body.
"Alright, then," The Brit said, grinning down at him, "Don't expect me to go easy on you."
"Good," America thought, "I don't want you to."
(be back later. A!A needs sleep now)
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oh, teh hotness...
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*anon takes a moment to compose herself*
this is really fucking hot
please keep it up
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I have to mention though, did you say that America's idea of good food is McDonald's?!?! America, what's wrong with you??????
Sorry, I need to go to sleep.
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I know you're apologizing for the long intro but I LOVE IT! It's so cute, and your dialogue really sparkles and they're both delightfully funny :)
And now that we're gettin' hot and heavy you've written them SOO SEXILY. Yes. *__*
Can't wait for more!
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I absolutely love the writing on this, and the love between them, it's just... fsdjkfsd//////
a-also ticklish!America is one of my biggest weaknesses/// I LOVE YOU AUTHORANON//
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