Les Endroits Serrés (1a/1?)
anonymous
May 29 2011, 06:20:00 UTC
I hope this pleases OP.
--
It is painfully obvious that they aren't going anywhere, if the shudder of the door as England slams his weight against the wood has anything to say about it.
France's hands are already beginning to slither up England's (thankfully clothed) body and even when that earns him a good slap to the knuckles, they simply veer to the left and to England's behind.
There really is no stopping France, the perverted frog he is, because there isn't any room for England to crawl to. His back presses snugly against the opposite wall, his feet are all but kicking France (who is also against the wall, yet still somehow managing to lean over England).
"S-Stop." UK mutters as those lips advance onto his own, but he, himself, can't find a reason to fight anymore.
France's lips finally touch his in a small peck, full lips meeting dry ones. England's body shifts of its will, shifts so that he is fully facing the other man, his legs parted.
France begins to move forward, intent on straddling his lovely Englishmen, but his elbow smacks the wall with a loud 'thump' and he winces in pain.
--
I know that's a bad place to stop, but I promise I'll continue, tomorrow. I've got to get some shut eye.
reCaptcha: ksigni enclosure. Yeah, that's the spirit, reCaptcha!
--
It is painfully obvious that they aren't going anywhere, if the shudder of the door as England slams his weight against the wood has anything to say about it.
France's hands are already beginning to slither up England's (thankfully clothed) body and even when that earns him a good slap to the knuckles, they simply veer to the left and to England's behind.
There really is no stopping France, the perverted frog he is, because there isn't any room for England to crawl to. His back presses snugly against the opposite wall, his feet are all but kicking France (who is also against the wall, yet still somehow managing to lean over England).
"S-Stop." UK mutters as those lips advance onto his own, but he, himself, can't find a reason to fight anymore.
France's lips finally touch his in a small peck, full lips meeting dry ones. England's body shifts of its will, shifts so that he is fully facing the other man, his legs parted.
France begins to move forward, intent on straddling his lovely Englishmen, but his elbow smacks the wall with a loud 'thump' and he winces in pain.
--
I know that's a bad place to stop, but I promise I'll continue, tomorrow. I've got to get some shut eye.
reCaptcha: ksigni enclosure. Yeah, that's the spirit, reCaptcha!
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Don't forget to link this to the fills list ;)
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