Hetalia kink meme part 21
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hetalia kink meme
part 21
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A/N: I don't even know what this is anymore. Well, it's going to be two monologues and one actual scene, but beyond that… (Hope you still enjoy. Also, I'm neither of the previous anons, but I hope they're coming back with something happier and more prompt-relevant)
First of all, I'm going to preface this by saying everything could have been avoided. I could have easily just stood and walked away. He wouldn't have stopped me. He wouldn't have stopped me and then it would have all been over. But I was too weak, too weak and much too foolish. I couldn't bear to hurt the boy who meant so much to me. So when he woke me with his unconscious flailing and whimpering I, of course, stayed to comfort him. He'd never been in a real war before, so he was sure to have nightmares. I petted his sweaty brow and he moaned.
I really should have noticed earlier, but even a fool knows people don't moan like that when they have nightmares.
He began to rub against my thigh, desperate for friction. Thankfully we both had nightshirts on so I didn't actually have to touch it. I was sweating too and trying to convince myself that it was because I was being held to such a hot body against my will.
"America, my dear little brother, please wake up!"
He just held me closer, not hearing.
"Please, it's England, wake up."
He was rubbing harder. No, not my brother, I thought, no-
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me, "America, Canada's made blueberry pancakes."
"But Can'da's not here…" he mumbled, half-opening his eyes. Then, realization hit and the boy sat bolt-upright and scooted away, "My God, England, I am so sorry. That doesn't usually happen to me, I-"
"Shh, shh," I came over and embraced him, my desire to comfort my boy stronger than the desire to run out of the tent, "It's alright, poppet, It happens to everyone."
"Even you?"
"Yes, even me," I assured him, even though it hadn't for over a hundred years, "But not so often as it used to. You're young and your… urges are very strong and volatile right now. It'll calm down when you get older."
"You sure?"
"I am," I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder, "It's okay. I'm not angry with you."
He hugged back and we held each other until his breathing returned to normal and his erection had subsided.
"I must know, though," I said, pulling away far enough so that I could see his face, "Who was it about? I need to make sure that any potential suitor is good enough for my colony."
America blushed, "I don't wanna say."
"Come on, lad, I'm not going to hurt them. I'll just-"
But I never got to finish that sentence because then he kissed me. It wasn't one of the friendly kisses that he gave me whenever I first arrived. He meant something by it. That was- Erm…
Well, it did explain the lad's reluctance.
"I'm sorry," America pulled away and scooted further back until he reached the wall of the tent, "It's just that when you came back I felt-"
I didn't listen to a single word. I should have just said "no, I can't be with you. You're my colony. You're still a boy. My God, you're like my son." I really should have. But at the same time I couldn't help but look at those huge blue eyes, pupils dilated with desire. His neck was strong and thick now, Adam's apple bouncing up and down with his words. My treacherous eyes flicked down to his bare legs, grown large and muscular, covered in pale hair.
I swallowed, "America," dear Lord he was just a child, "There is a special place in Hell for the likes of me."
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America opened his mouth to ask what I meant, but I kissed him before he could. It wasn't closed-mouthed and chaste like his had been. It was heavy, hot, and I'm sorry to say with full tongue. America let out a gasp and then a moan, shuddering against my body. He'd never been kissed before, had he?
I pulled away before I could worry about how that realization made me feel, "Hush, now. We don't want the men to hear us."
"Oh, England…" He was already panting, eyes half-lidded, and cheeks wonderfully red.
"On the mat," I whispered, "It'll be more comfortable if you're lying down."
America scrambled, quickly crawling past me and onto our messy sheets. He spread his legs and looked up eagerly.
"Dear Lord," I whispered more to myself than him, "You don't even know."
"I don't know what?"
I crawled over him and stroked his cheek, "How to do this."
He scowled, "I do too! I've seen all kinds of animals and once I got curious and followed a couple of kids back to the girl's dad's barn and-"
I placed a finger his mouth, "You've seen sex," I whispered, "You know what goes where to produce a child. But that's like finding iron ore and calling it a saber. It's not been formed, not been purified to the point where it's something beautiful. I'm going to teach you why there are so many poems about love, my lad."
America smiled then, "So does that mean you love me?"
I couldn't think about that then. I just had to kiss him again, hoping to drive the thought from his mind. As America gripped my shoulders again and started rutting against me, I assumed it worked.
When I pulled away, I grabbed the hem of his shirt helping him to get it off and into some far corner of the tent. I watched his expression the entire time, so excited, so damn happy. Maybe it helped to be a colony, having someone who had provided everything to him everything now giving him this too. America adored me; he trusted me. I would have to make sure not to betray any of that.
"You okay, England?"
"Hmm? Why wouldn't I be?"
"I donno, but you've just been staring at me with this weird look on your face."
"Just- Just lost in thought. Don't worry about me."
"'Kay. But, uh…"
"Yes?" I asked, going for my own shirt.
"Are you… Are you gonna be doing that, um, later?"
"What? Oh! No, no, no. I'm here with you, dear." I kissed him lightly, but America still squirmed beneath me.
"How come you're not hard?" He asked, frowning.
"It's the price of skill and experience. You see-"
And then I looked. God help me, I looked. I don't know why, my eyes just moved on their own. He was so glorious: muscles shaped more wonderfully than the curves of his mountains, skin as pink as the roses by his plantations and as unmarked as his vast wilderness in the west. His body was so beautiful, so mature that I didn't even think of his actual age.
"Uh, England, you're doing it again."
I looked back up, "Sorry. I was only- I just-" I shook my head, "I can't believe no one's tried to have you yet."
He grinned, "Oh, they've tried."
I couldn't help but smile back, "There's a good lad."
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I didn't ask why I was different, why I had succeeded where others had failed. I didn't ask when I pressed my fingers inside of him, or when we moved together and he chanted my name over and over, or when he came early but let me keep fucking him until I finally followed him, or even when we lay next to each other afterwards even when he started talking again.
"Hey England?"
"Yes, my pet?"
"Could we do this again some time?"
I rolled back over and looked at him. His eyes were half-closed and he was smiling again, still absolutely euphoric, "I'd like that."
He beamed even wider, "I'm glad."
"But listen, America," He opened his eyes, "No one can know about us, understand? No one. Not even your brother."
"Why?"
"Because you're my bloody colony and I just slept with you." I wanted to say, but I had to lie. I didn't want him to be mad. "It's dangerous."
"I don't care."
"Please, America," I looked at him seriously, "You know that most of Europe hates me and wants nothing more than to see me hurt. Who knows what they'd do to you?"
"I'm strong, England, I'll be okay."
"I just want to know you're safe."
I could see him thinking it over: the part of him that trusted me and loved me fighting the part of him that longed to be free and strong. But I had trained him too well, I realize now. Since he was a child I'd impressed upon him that I was always right and he had to do whatever I said. He acquiesced to all my requirements to be with me. He still kept to his own room and simply snuck out on the nights I was in the house with him. He still addressed me as a superior when we weren't in my chambers. He didn't allow any trace of our filthy affair to come through even to the servants.
But I was the real fool. I believed that was really him. I couldn't see that he was masking his true nature out of sheer love.
One morning I awoke to an empty house. He took all the staff with him and disappeared without leaving so much as a note. A week later and I was staring down the barrel of his musket and that was it.
Oh yes, we never severed ties completely. I needed raw materials, he needed cloth, and merchants don't give a flying fuck about our feelings. It's a good thing too. Money is our blood and even a broken heart has to keep beating. Things are better now. As all the politicians say, world gets smaller every day and those of us who share similar technologies and philosophies need to work together. So we talk and act civil towards each other most of the time, but it's all professional. Feelings are kept out of it and it's all for the better. If we didn't I'd run in circles, trying to reclaim what I'd squandered on pride and lust.
Japan? You came to speak with me about America and the state of my alliance with a country on the other side of the globe has nothing to do with him at all. Oh, look at the time, I'm afraid that I have an appointment with- hell, what's his name again?- Canada! I have an appointment with Canada. No, I can't tell you what it's about. Now, if you'd like to have another meeting in the future about Japan you can set up an appointment with my secretary on your way out. Good day, sir.
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I think the issue here is the vagueness of the timeline of the event. A was is mentioned in the beginning...is it the Seven Years' War? happened about 12 years before the Revolutionary War.
Personally I like the fill just fine. The dialogue-like ending referring to Japan confuses me tho. Is the author trying to refer to the Anglo-Japanese Alliance? My only concrit about this fill is it'll be better to make clearer references to the timeline to avoid confusion :)
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anyway...
Yes, this is during the seven years war, at which point canonically he's an adult (I personally put him at about 17 then, 19 post civil war, and actually 21 or so modern day)
However, both England's and America's actual stories were collected in the 1920s, hence the Anglo-Japanese alliance (there end up being more references in America's part, due to him being America)
Sorry for the confusion.
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