British Logic [3/6]
anonymous
June 14 2011, 13:59:07 UTC
Then, America did something unexpected. He placed his own hand on England's groin. The Briton's breath caught. He had been so intensely focused on teasing the other man he had been neglecting his own erection, struggling to free itself from the confines of his clothing. America began to roughly rub it over England's trousers. He stopped for a moment to reach for England's belt.
The older nation quickly dropped America's cock and grabbed his wrist. He was too incompetent to be trusted to do something so silently.
America scowled at him, but England still began to work on freeing himself.
Of course, that was the moment when their bosses remembered that they were also in the room.
"So what do the two of you think about this agreement?" America's boss asked.
England looked back and forth between the two humans, as though puzzling over the best way to put his idea while really he was just trying to think of something that wasn't "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. They've noticed what we're doing. My life is over. My dignity is gone. I'll move somewhere far, far away and pretend to be human for a generation or three. Hopefully no one will write this down, or else I'll have to be in hiding for the rest of my life. Maybe Wales can run the UK. He just needs to cut his hair and get a better accent and everyone'll think he's me. What's-his-name can pretend to be America and we can run off to somewhere safe. Maybe Switzerland will let us stay with him as refugees. Oh fuck-"
"I think that England and I are gonna need to talk about it for a while. We've gotta think of the long term and stuff, Mr. President." America said.
Everyone looked at America with complete shock on their face. Their bosses probably didn't think that the boy was capable of rational thought. England, who knew better, was in awe that he managed to do so while in the middle of receiving and trying to give a good wanking.
"A-Alright," America's boss said, "We'll send you an e-mail of the revised documents so you two can reference them. We can meet back here this time tomorrow."
"Thanks," America said, flashing them a Hollywood grin.
The two politicians got up and walked out the door, still too taken aback by America's sudden burst of intelligence to care if either of their countries were coming with them.
As the door shut, America let out a laugh, "Awesome! They're gone!" He smiled at England, but that intelligence was still gleaming in those deep blue eyes.
"Dear God, Take me now," England thought. Then he smacked his forehead for doing so.
"What's wrong, babe?" America asked.
"Why are you only useful at times like this?" The older nation snapped to cover his embarrassment.
America laughed, "Because morons have more fun!"
England grabbed his tie and pulled him forward so that he could shut him up by gagging him with their tongues.
Even though they had turned towards each other, it was still kind of an awkward position, so England ended up on America's lap. …But that was only because the idiot was too heavy to sit on his lap and too lazy to stand while making out. It also allowed him to give England the relief of loosening his trousers and freeing him from his briefs.
England threw his head back and allowed his eyes to flutter closed as America's wide, calloused hand closed around him. There were shockwaves rushing though his entire body. If it had felt even half this good while England was stroking America, he was amazed that he hadn't cried out. N-not that he was actually impressed by America. He was just- Oh fuck it. He was sitting in the boy's lap, being stroked hard and fast. He couldn't bring himself to care about his dignity anymore, especially since he was only trying to justify his actions to himself.
British Logic [4/6]
anonymous
June 14 2011, 14:00:15 UTC
England stood and dragged America up with him. The chair clattered to the ground behind them, but neither really cared because then they were kissing again. Although, maybe kissing wasn't the right word. However, England wasn't sure what was more accurate: trying to suck each other's faces off or trying to use their tongues to choke each other, so kissing was good enough. Every now and again they would instinctually buck in towards each other, causing their painfully hard erections to rub.
America pulled away, but kept both hands on the back of England's neck "Oh, babe, I need you now."
The older nation blushed, as though embarrassment were even possible at this point, and nodded. He slid his hands from where they were, behind America's back and keeping them pressed together, to pop the buttons on his partner's jacket and dress shirt open. He barely even noticed America doing the same thing to him, choosing instead to focus on each inch of skin as it appeared from behind the other man's shirt. It was so lovely to see the body that England had been fantasizing about every night finally come into view in the real world. Once he reached the bottom button, America shucked both the shirt and the jacket, leaving him naked from the waist up. England couldn't help but stare. He looked fantastic, a little bit chubby or not. Even though the muscles on his arms and chest may have been a bit smaller, he was still very well-built. Every inch of skin was just lightly tanned and flawless.
England lifted his hands and placed them upon America's shoulders, feeling the powerful muscles beneath. He closed his eyes and slid his hands up and down, feeling every hill and valley, every callus, every hair...
He was about to go on to exploring his lover's torso when those strong hands wrapped around his wrists. He opened his eyes to see a very strained America.
"No," he said, "Later."
England scoffed, but opened his briefcase to search for the lube he carried for such occasions anyway, "Eager aren't you?"
America scowled "I would've let you do it if you hadn't been so desperate you needed to start jerking me off before the meeting was over! Now come on, I wanna fuck." He tugged on England's jacket and it fell off, taking his shirt with it.
"Now America," England said in his parent voice (which he knew America hated hearing, especially in bed), dangling the lube in front of his face, "What is it that we do?"
America rolled his eyes, "We make love; not fuck."
"Good boy," England said, allowing the younger nation to snatch the bottle.
"How do you want it?" America asked.
England looked around at the room, furnished with nothing but a table, some chairs, and a few fake plants, "Not too many good options, are there?"
"We could use the table."
"No," England said, "I-I don't want to be face down."
America smiled, and England knew he realized it meant that England wanted to look at him. Thankfully, he made no comment on it.
"How about the wall? I can hold you up no problem."
"Yes," England said, scowling, "you and that monstrous strength of yours that will probably give me a concussion."
"I'll protect your head," America said, leaning on the table to take off his socks and shoes.
England sighed and did likewise, "This is a bad idea."
"You always say that."
"Well, when was the last time you had a good idea?"
America let out a low whistle and pushed down his trousers, "Well, the time with the peanut butter, and the time with the picture frame, then there was that thing involving the whisk, the desk calendar, and the-"
British Logic [5/6]
anonymous
June 14 2011, 14:01:24 UTC
America laughed and stepped out of the cloth around his ankles. He kissed England and guided him backwards until they were against the outside wall (England gave a sidelong glance to make sure that the curtains were indeed shut. Thankfully, they were). America rid England of the last of his clothing and wrapped his arms around his waist.
"You ready?" He asked.
England nodded.
"Alright, up we go!" America's grip tightened and England was lifted a few inches off the ground to allow him to more easily wrap his legs around America's waist. America kept one hand around England's middle, but the other somehow managed to cover itself in lube because a few moments later a slick, cold digit entered him. England squirmed, trying to get more of it. While his lover was gone he had been much fonder of vibrators than he'd like to admit and was used to things much larger than one finger being inside.
"Damn, England," America huffed, sliding a second in, "You're still good at this. Who've you been practicing with? I should get 'em something nice."
England blushed bright red, "I can sleep with whoever I damn well please while you're not around, and I don't need to report it to you."
America looked at him confusedly before a smile broke across his face, "Aw babe, you've been good to me this whole time? You're so cute, Iggy!"
"I am nothing of the sort! Just because I don't need to tell you who it is I choose to bed-" England was cut off as America slid a third finger into him and he gave up talking in favor of shivering.
"I got it, sweetheart," America whispered, alternating between spreading his fingers and mercilessly harassing England's prostate.
England clutched him for dear life. Vibrators, his own fingers, even when he had bothered sleeping with other nations, nothing came close to this feeling. There was just something about America that made him go mad at the lightest touch, much less this.
"I-I think I'm ready," England finally said once he had regained control of his tongue.
"Okay," America nodded.
He used the hand that wasn't supporting England to line himself up and help guide just the tip inside. It was infuriating on the other end. England had waited six months to be with America again, and now they were right on the edge and he had to wait. There wasn't even really a good reason for it. Even after America had slid his hand behind England's head to protect it, he just stared. England bristled. He didn't need to put up with this!
"Are you going to bloody move or do I need to do every-"
"You're beautiful," America said.
"I'm sorry?" England asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You're beautiful, I love you, and I want you."
England felt yet another blush. Blast his pale complexion!
British Logic [6/6]
anonymous
June 14 2011, 14:01:58 UTC
America leaned forward to take his lips in a kiss and at the same time pushed up and in. England gasped into his mouth. Suddenly he was perfectly filled. No matter what, America always fit him flawlessly. It was just like how when later in the visit when England would inevitably top America would feel absolutely heavenly around him. France and Italy would probably say it was because of true love or something barmy like that, but England knew better. After all, it was just… just…
Well, he didn't have time to think of things like that. Not when America was using up what little patience he had to keep himself from abusing England's insides. The older nation rolled his hips, not quite trusting his voice, especially while his tongue was wrapped around America's.
America laughed into the kiss and began to thrust fast and hard and passionately. England let out a little noise that was far higher than he would claim later on, and America went from tangling tongues to more or less just panting into his lover's mouth. England returned in kind, barely having the presence to hold on to America.
It was always like this while they were together, always. No matter what sort of kink they came up with, it was always only foreplay because the second that they started to make love there was nothing else in the world but pleasure and friction. Both would rather die than admit it, but they adored the feeling. There was no division, no distraction, just love and passion. There was something almost sickeningly pure about it, sickeningly cliché, but also sickeningly true. England could barely remember who he was or where he was until he felt America release within him and he felt himself empty all over their stomachs not a moment later.
America fell slowly to his knees, not able to support them anymore. England didn't move. He just sat there, arms around America with the other nation's now-soft member inside of him. It took several moments before either could trust their knees enough to stand.
"We're a bloody mess," England said, once the two of them were untangled, "How on earth are we going to get back to your apartment?"
"Don't worry!" America said, he ran over to his briefcase and opened it, "A hero always has his towel! It's the most important rule other than not panicking." He pulled the cloth out and held it above his head like a trophy.
England rolled his eyes, "That craze ended years ago, America. And it wasn't even your series to begin with."
"So?" America asked, wiping up the spend on his stomach and around his cock before walking back over. He knelt in front of England, "It was yours. It was a story one of your people wrote about robots and aliens and going across the galaxy and it was all funny as hell, which is everything that I like. It's special, England."
The older nation looked away and snatched the towel, using it to clean himself up. They dressed in silence, America looking at him and grinning and England looking away. The two of them managed to escape the building with no fuss. They got onto the metro and rode until they were out of the city and could get into America's monstrosity of a car and drive to his old Virginia plantation. Once they were both seated in the SUV, America eased his hand on top of England's. The other nation huffed.
Fffft, you guys (A!A is late to the party she started)
anonymous
June 18 2011, 02:03:34 UTC
To anyone who comes back, thank you. I love you all <3 I only wish I didn't have to work so that there was more than just the weekend I could go on the Internet. I'm glad you all liked it since I was a little bit afraid to post something that I turned around so fast.
Then, America did something unexpected. He placed his own hand on England's groin. The Briton's breath caught. He had been so intensely focused on teasing the other man he had been neglecting his own erection, struggling to free itself from the confines of his clothing. America began to roughly rub it over England's trousers. He stopped for a moment to reach for England's belt.
The older nation quickly dropped America's cock and grabbed his wrist. He was too incompetent to be trusted to do something so silently.
America scowled at him, but England still began to work on freeing himself.
Of course, that was the moment when their bosses remembered that they were also in the room.
"So what do the two of you think about this agreement?" America's boss asked.
England looked back and forth between the two humans, as though puzzling over the best way to put his idea while really he was just trying to think of something that wasn't "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. They've noticed what we're doing. My life is over. My dignity is gone. I'll move somewhere far, far away and pretend to be human for a generation or three. Hopefully no one will write this down, or else I'll have to be in hiding for the rest of my life. Maybe Wales can run the UK. He just needs to cut his hair and get a better accent and everyone'll think he's me. What's-his-name can pretend to be America and we can run off to somewhere safe. Maybe Switzerland will let us stay with him as refugees. Oh fuck-"
"I think that England and I are gonna need to talk about it for a while. We've gotta think of the long term and stuff, Mr. President." America said.
Everyone looked at America with complete shock on their face. Their bosses probably didn't think that the boy was capable of rational thought. England, who knew better, was in awe that he managed to do so while in the middle of receiving and trying to give a good wanking.
"A-Alright," America's boss said, "We'll send you an e-mail of the revised documents so you two can reference them. We can meet back here this time tomorrow."
"Thanks," America said, flashing them a Hollywood grin.
The two politicians got up and walked out the door, still too taken aback by America's sudden burst of intelligence to care if either of their countries were coming with them.
As the door shut, America let out a laugh, "Awesome! They're gone!" He smiled at England, but that intelligence was still gleaming in those deep blue eyes.
"Dear God, Take me now," England thought. Then he smacked his forehead for doing so.
"What's wrong, babe?" America asked.
"Why are you only useful at times like this?" The older nation snapped to cover his embarrassment.
America laughed, "Because morons have more fun!"
England grabbed his tie and pulled him forward so that he could shut him up by gagging him with their tongues.
Even though they had turned towards each other, it was still kind of an awkward position, so England ended up on America's lap. …But that was only because the idiot was too heavy to sit on his lap and too lazy to stand while making out. It also allowed him to give England the relief of loosening his trousers and freeing him from his briefs.
England threw his head back and allowed his eyes to flutter closed as America's wide, calloused hand closed around him. There were shockwaves rushing though his entire body. If it had felt even half this good while England was stroking America, he was amazed that he hadn't cried out. N-not that he was actually impressed by America. He was just- Oh fuck it. He was sitting in the boy's lap, being stroked hard and fast. He couldn't bring himself to care about his dignity anymore, especially since he was only trying to justify his actions to himself.
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England stood and dragged America up with him. The chair clattered to the ground behind them, but neither really cared because then they were kissing again. Although, maybe kissing wasn't the right word. However, England wasn't sure what was more accurate: trying to suck each other's faces off or trying to use their tongues to choke each other, so kissing was good enough. Every now and again they would instinctually buck in towards each other, causing their painfully hard erections to rub.
America pulled away, but kept both hands on the back of England's neck "Oh, babe, I need you now."
The older nation blushed, as though embarrassment were even possible at this point, and nodded. He slid his hands from where they were, behind America's back and keeping them pressed together, to pop the buttons on his partner's jacket and dress shirt open. He barely even noticed America doing the same thing to him, choosing instead to focus on each inch of skin as it appeared from behind the other man's shirt. It was so lovely to see the body that England had been fantasizing about every night finally come into view in the real world. Once he reached the bottom button, America shucked both the shirt and the jacket, leaving him naked from the waist up. England couldn't help but stare. He looked fantastic, a little bit chubby or not. Even though the muscles on his arms and chest may have been a bit smaller, he was still very well-built. Every inch of skin was just lightly tanned and flawless.
England lifted his hands and placed them upon America's shoulders, feeling the powerful muscles beneath. He closed his eyes and slid his hands up and down, feeling every hill and valley, every callus, every hair...
He was about to go on to exploring his lover's torso when those strong hands wrapped around his wrists. He opened his eyes to see a very strained America.
"No," he said, "Later."
England scoffed, but opened his briefcase to search for the lube he carried for such occasions anyway, "Eager aren't you?"
America scowled "I would've let you do it if you hadn't been so desperate you needed to start jerking me off before the meeting was over! Now come on, I wanna fuck." He tugged on England's jacket and it fell off, taking his shirt with it.
"Now America," England said in his parent voice (which he knew America hated hearing, especially in bed), dangling the lube in front of his face, "What is it that we do?"
America rolled his eyes, "We make love; not fuck."
"Good boy," England said, allowing the younger nation to snatch the bottle.
"How do you want it?" America asked.
England looked around at the room, furnished with nothing but a table, some chairs, and a few fake plants, "Not too many good options, are there?"
"We could use the table."
"No," England said, "I-I don't want to be face down."
America smiled, and England knew he realized it meant that England wanted to look at him. Thankfully, he made no comment on it.
"How about the wall? I can hold you up no problem."
"Yes," England said, scowling, "you and that monstrous strength of yours that will probably give me a concussion."
"I'll protect your head," America said, leaning on the table to take off his socks and shoes.
England sighed and did likewise, "This is a bad idea."
"You always say that."
"Well, when was the last time you had a good idea?"
America let out a low whistle and pushed down his trousers, "Well, the time with the peanut butter, and the time with the picture frame, then there was that thing involving the whisk, the desk calendar, and the-"
"Alright fine, which wall?"
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America laughed and stepped out of the cloth around his ankles. He kissed England and guided him backwards until they were against the outside wall (England gave a sidelong glance to make sure that the curtains were indeed shut. Thankfully, they were). America rid England of the last of his clothing and wrapped his arms around his waist.
"You ready?" He asked.
England nodded.
"Alright, up we go!" America's grip tightened and England was lifted a few inches off the ground to allow him to more easily wrap his legs around America's waist. America kept one hand around England's middle, but the other somehow managed to cover itself in lube because a few moments later a slick, cold digit entered him. England squirmed, trying to get more of it. While his lover was gone he had been much fonder of vibrators than he'd like to admit and was used to things much larger than one finger being inside.
"Damn, England," America huffed, sliding a second in, "You're still good at this. Who've you been practicing with? I should get 'em something nice."
England blushed bright red, "I can sleep with whoever I damn well please while you're not around, and I don't need to report it to you."
America looked at him confusedly before a smile broke across his face, "Aw babe, you've been good to me this whole time? You're so cute, Iggy!"
"I am nothing of the sort! Just because I don't need to tell you who it is I choose to bed-" England was cut off as America slid a third finger into him and he gave up talking in favor of shivering.
"I got it, sweetheart," America whispered, alternating between spreading his fingers and mercilessly harassing England's prostate.
England clutched him for dear life. Vibrators, his own fingers, even when he had bothered sleeping with other nations, nothing came close to this feeling. There was just something about America that made him go mad at the lightest touch, much less this.
"I-I think I'm ready," England finally said once he had regained control of his tongue.
"Okay," America nodded.
He used the hand that wasn't supporting England to line himself up and help guide just the tip inside. It was infuriating on the other end. England had waited six months to be with America again, and now they were right on the edge and he had to wait. There wasn't even really a good reason for it. Even after America had slid his hand behind England's head to protect it, he just stared. England bristled. He didn't need to put up with this!
"Are you going to bloody move or do I need to do every-"
"You're beautiful," America said.
"I'm sorry?" England asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You're beautiful, I love you, and I want you."
England felt yet another blush. Blast his pale complexion!
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America leaned forward to take his lips in a kiss and at the same time pushed up and in. England gasped into his mouth. Suddenly he was perfectly filled. No matter what, America always fit him flawlessly. It was just like how when later in the visit when England would inevitably top America would feel absolutely heavenly around him. France and Italy would probably say it was because of true love or something barmy like that, but England knew better. After all, it was just… just…
Well, he didn't have time to think of things like that. Not when America was using up what little patience he had to keep himself from abusing England's insides. The older nation rolled his hips, not quite trusting his voice, especially while his tongue was wrapped around America's.
America laughed into the kiss and began to thrust fast and hard and passionately. England let out a little noise that was far higher than he would claim later on, and America went from tangling tongues to more or less just panting into his lover's mouth. England returned in kind, barely having the presence to hold on to America.
It was always like this while they were together, always. No matter what sort of kink they came up with, it was always only foreplay because the second that they started to make love there was nothing else in the world but pleasure and friction. Both would rather die than admit it, but they adored the feeling. There was no division, no distraction, just love and passion. There was something almost sickeningly pure about it, sickeningly cliché, but also sickeningly true. England could barely remember who he was or where he was until he felt America release within him and he felt himself empty all over their stomachs not a moment later.
America fell slowly to his knees, not able to support them anymore. England didn't move. He just sat there, arms around America with the other nation's now-soft member inside of him. It took several moments before either could trust their knees enough to stand.
"We're a bloody mess," England said, once the two of them were untangled, "How on earth are we going to get back to your apartment?"
"Don't worry!" America said, he ran over to his briefcase and opened it, "A hero always has his towel! It's the most important rule other than not panicking." He pulled the cloth out and held it above his head like a trophy.
England rolled his eyes, "That craze ended years ago, America. And it wasn't even your series to begin with."
"So?" America asked, wiping up the spend on his stomach and around his cock before walking back over. He knelt in front of England, "It was yours. It was a story one of your people wrote about robots and aliens and going across the galaxy and it was all funny as hell, which is everything that I like. It's special, England."
The older nation looked away and snatched the towel, using it to clean himself up. They dressed in silence, America looking at him and grinning and England looking away. The two of them managed to escape the building with no fuss. They got onto the metro and rode until they were out of the city and could get into America's monstrosity of a car and drive to his old Virginia plantation. Once they were both seated in the SUV, America eased his hand on top of England's. The other nation huffed.
Stupid unforgivable sweetness. Stupid blatant cheesiness. Stupid unfair hotness. Stupid America.
He let the hand stay there the entire ride.
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This was lovely and hot, anon! Bravo~ <3
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(Also, this begs for a sequel, with England on top. ;) )
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This was absolutely sweet, hot, romantic, and corny. But the most fabulous combination of the four, mind.
this was just... so cute honestly, I don't know how to describe it. ...Also, the sex was nice. =v=
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stiff as a board in more ways than one.
Please tell me I'm not a complete pervert for reading that the way I did.
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England blushed bright red, "I can sleep with whoever I damn well please while you're not around, and I don't need to report it to you."
America looked at him confusedly before a smile broke across his face, "Aw babe, you've been good to me this whole time? You're so cute, Iggy!"
AWWWWW! It's so IC and adorable. I love how America can see right through him.
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And cute :)
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I loved it! Funny, hot, sweet... You had everything in there, Authornon. <3
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy reference made me die. I love you. *gives cookies* BRAVO!
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It makes me amused how England insisted on making love but ended up the one who got very impatient.
And the smut is hot!
This fill is brill! I love this! Thank you for sharing!
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