Manservant part 3
anonymous
January 17 2009, 02:48:48 UTC
“But then,” USA reached out and tugged on that too-short apron, making UK jerk in surprise and feel very, very exposed, his breaths suddenly coming faster.
The American’s fingers skimmed up one bare thigh, thumb brushing just underneath the hemline. “Where would you hide it?” USA teased, pulling his hand away.
“I am not hiding anything!” UK blurted, cheeks red.
“I can definitely see that.”
The dimly lit atmosphere wasn’t enough to conceal the slight tremble running through the British nation’s frame. He’d had passes made at him before, but he never expected for his former colony to make one. Several. Make him feel like doing something incredibly dirty.
America let his rough palms spread flat against the table top and laughed at UK’s embarrassed silence. “England, I’m hungry.”
“R-right away.”
*
Amazingly enough The United States got his food from the chef himself, but it was the first time America didn’t really notice what he was eating as he munched. He had to suffer through watching UK putter around and bring various other patrons their drinks.
Every flash of all that bare skin… that uniform accenting all the right places. He just wanted to pluck that knot loose and watch it fall to the floor.
An inaudible groan escaped and America bit his bottom lip softly, pressing his back against the cushioned seat. He stroked himself feebly through his pants. ‘Damnit…’ He was hard.
“England!” America breathed as the man passed by. The shorter nation paused, holding his drink tray in midair.
“…I need a fork.”
“And what is wrong with that one?” UK pointed to the unused utensil sitting by his plate.
“That?” America’s eyebrows rose cheerfully. Blue eyes beamed with faked innocence as he knocked the fork, making it clatter off the end of the table. “It’s dirty, England. I don’t think I can eat with it! It fell on the floor.”
UK blushed badly, refusing to bend and pick up the item. “Then bloody well use your hands.” He reprimanded, turning to move away.
The taller blond reddened and couldn’t take the teasing anymore. He stuck out his foot furtively and tripped the other country.
“Ack!!” UK yelped upsetting his drink tray, and America ended up getting himself a lap full of perfectly proportioned British man.
England’s chest fluttered in quickened breaths at having been tipped sideways into the private booth. America’s arm circled his back to hold him up and one warm hand slipped delicately down his quaking side to clutch his slim waist.
“America! What is the meaning of th-”
UK shifted, feeling what couldn’t possibly be anything other than his former colony’s large erection press against his unclothed behind. He shifted again involuntarily, making the other man suddenly push against him more heatedly.
“Ah…” America moaned quietly. His breath ghosted hotly over England’s burning ear. “You know, I would use my hands, but I think I’d like yours better.”
USA’s gaze was filled with an undeniable lust that made England shake in repressed need. “I…Dear god…” The Brit stuttered, green eyes darting to look anywhere but at the handsome face drifting so closely to his.
“England…” America’s large hand holding his waist began to toy with the trim on his apron.
“America-” UK gasped, his own hand flashing down to grab and still the American’s wandering one. “..N-not now! Look at this mess!” He squirmed, struggling to get up.
“But-”
As soon as UK succeeded in standing the restaurant’s French boss came by and immediately caught sight of the upended tray and wasted beverages. “3 spilt drinks!?” The host raved, causing the two nations to start. “That’s 3 more hours here, England!”
“Fuck.” UK swore.
America nearly groaned. He could say the same thing.
*
England stood wiping at a table furiously.
It was just after closing time and his punishment hours couldn’t be over soon enough. America had lounged around after his meal for as long as possible before the host had had enough of the loitering, thanking the nation and not-so politely showing him to the exit.
Well, served him right. The other man had no idea how mortified UK had been. Rubbing up against him in public. Teasing him mercilessly about the risqué waiter uniform.
The American’s fingers skimmed up one bare thigh, thumb brushing just underneath the hemline. “Where would you hide it?” USA teased, pulling his hand away.
“I am not hiding anything!” UK blurted, cheeks red.
“I can definitely see that.”
The dimly lit atmosphere wasn’t enough to conceal the slight tremble running through the British nation’s frame. He’d had passes made at him before, but he never expected for his former colony to make one. Several. Make him feel like doing something incredibly dirty.
America let his rough palms spread flat against the table top and laughed at UK’s embarrassed silence. “England, I’m hungry.”
“R-right away.”
*
Amazingly enough The United States got his food from the chef himself, but it was the first time America didn’t really notice what he was eating as he munched. He had to suffer through watching UK putter around and bring various other patrons their drinks.
Every flash of all that bare skin… that uniform accenting all the right places. He just wanted to pluck that knot loose and watch it fall to the floor.
An inaudible groan escaped and America bit his bottom lip softly, pressing his back against the cushioned seat. He stroked himself feebly through his pants. ‘Damnit…’ He was hard.
“England!” America breathed as the man passed by. The shorter nation paused, holding his drink tray in midair.
“…I need a fork.”
“And what is wrong with that one?” UK pointed to the unused utensil sitting by his plate.
“That?” America’s eyebrows rose cheerfully. Blue eyes beamed with faked innocence as he knocked the fork, making it clatter off the end of the table. “It’s dirty, England. I don’t think I can eat with it! It fell on the floor.”
UK blushed badly, refusing to bend and pick up the item. “Then bloody well use your hands.” He reprimanded, turning to move away.
The taller blond reddened and couldn’t take the teasing anymore. He stuck out his foot furtively and tripped the other country.
“Ack!!” UK yelped upsetting his drink tray, and America ended up getting himself a lap full of perfectly proportioned British man.
England’s chest fluttered in quickened breaths at having been tipped sideways into the private booth. America’s arm circled his back to hold him up and one warm hand slipped delicately down his quaking side to clutch his slim waist.
“America! What is the meaning of th-”
UK shifted, feeling what couldn’t possibly be anything other than his former colony’s large erection press against his unclothed behind. He shifted again involuntarily, making the other man suddenly push against him more heatedly.
“Ah…” America moaned quietly. His breath ghosted hotly over England’s burning ear. “You know, I would use my hands, but I think I’d like yours better.”
USA’s gaze was filled with an undeniable lust that made England shake in repressed need. “I…Dear god…” The Brit stuttered, green eyes darting to look anywhere but at the handsome face drifting so closely to his.
“England…” America’s large hand holding his waist began to toy with the trim on his apron.
“America-” UK gasped, his own hand flashing down to grab and still the American’s wandering one. “..N-not now! Look at this mess!” He squirmed, struggling to get up.
“But-”
As soon as UK succeeded in standing the restaurant’s French boss came by and immediately caught sight of the upended tray and wasted beverages. “3 spilt drinks!?” The host raved, causing the two nations to start. “That’s 3 more hours here, England!”
“Fuck.” UK swore.
America nearly groaned. He could say the same thing.
*
England stood wiping at a table furiously.
It was just after closing time and his punishment hours couldn’t be over soon enough. America had lounged around after his meal for as long as possible before the host had had enough of the loitering, thanking the nation and not-so politely showing him to the exit.
Well, served him right. The other man had no idea how mortified UK had been. Rubbing up against him in public. Teasing him mercilessly about the risqué waiter uniform.
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