Why It's Called A Special Relationship (2/3)
anonymous
March 31 2009, 03:49:11 UTC
"Let's go, or I'm not gonna last." America gasped. "My jacket pocket...no, the other pocket. Yeah, in there."
England felt out the condom and the small tube. He edged forward and pushed the condom into America's chest. "Put it on."
"Right." America stood up and took the condom from England, and fumbled with the packaging for a few moments.
Watching America roll the condom over his erection, England squeezed the lube onto his fingers a little too roughly. He quickly set the tube aside and scooted to the edge of the desk.
Wrapping an arm around America's waist to pull him closer, England rubbed the lube onto him. America's legs were quaking when he bent to kiss England's forehead, before their lips met again in a searing kiss.
England's arms went around America's shoulders, clutching at the jacket for dear life as he gave a small hop, his legs jackknifing across America's back. Leaning against the desk, America lifted England's hips and guided himself into position. Then America started pushing in.
It was too thick, too much, TOO GOOD, and England's body was breaking in sparks of pain and pleasure. Then it was done, the breaking and the noise diminished aside from their own labored breathing. America was completely sheathed inside, and England couldn't stop shaking.
"I hope no one heard that." America was twitching as much as he was.
"Idiot." England's voice was rough. "It's too late to worry about that, just get on with it."
America hardly needed to be told, his hips were already jerking deliciously against his ass, and England was already beginning to spasm as he hit him just the way he needed it. They had barely started, and he thought he wouldn't even need to touch himself to come at this rate.
England tried to bite his cheek to stay quiet, but couldn't stop the low-pitched whimpers of ecstacy that slipped past his lips on nearly every strike. America lightly kissed and teased his mouth until England pushed his tongue in his mouth and deepened the kiss.
England was drenched with heat, and he had to claw into America's jacket to keep his grip. They began pounding into each other with furious intent, racing to reach completion. They couldn't be there all day, after all. England arched his back, trying to increase the friction of his erection against America's sweat-slicked abs.
As America's thrusts intensified, England knew he was almost finished. It was also evident in the tightened grip on England's hip and shoulder. His breath was a hot wind against his neck, burning, burning...
"England," his name came out of America in a broken groan as he came, riding it out in hard, grinding thrusts. "England..."
So close... With a half cry, England ground himself down and arched back without abandon as he sought his own pleasure. Please, beautiful America, please... My America, please... please... He was so far gone, he wasn't sure if he said it aloud or not.
Then America's hand was there on him, and one good pull, somehow it was enough- the tension in England's body uncoiled and erupted in bliss. Oh, it was so GOOD, and he was calling out America's name repeatedly in soft, exhausted cries as he unloaded himself all...why were the lights on?
Why It's Called A Special Relationship (3/3)
anonymous
March 31 2009, 04:02:56 UTC
Still shaking and feeling fuzzed out with the pleasure of his orgasm, England squinted into the light with increasing alarm.
Oh GOD.
He lifted his head, damp fringe sticking to his face, and looked, unwillingly, over America's shoulder and towards the door. Sure enough, the door was open. And there was Mr. Obama and Mr. Brown, standing in the doorway like deer in headlights.
America hadn't turned around, his eyes tightly shut. "Oh. I forgot to lock the door, didn't I..."
"Yes. Yes, you did." England hissed.
Mr. Brown had turned a few interesting colors. "Just what is your country doing to Arthur!? This is...this is...!"
"Now, hold on!" America finally whipped his head aside angrily, and looked like he was about to turn around, but England held onto him, not ready to fully expose any more than they already had (such as the lovely mess currently decorating their midsections). He also didn't want to risk America actually getting into a fight with his boss. He wasn't going to put it past either of them.
"HOLD UP!" England bellowed. His already sex-flushed face was burning, and he wanted to sink into the ground and die, but he faced their bosses with a stern face and as much self-righteous bluster as he could summon. "He's not doing anything I didn't want him to do, so don't get your knickers in a twist."
"It's not my knickers on the floor!"
"Maybe you two could get off the desk now," Mr. Obama seemed to have finally found his voice. "I don't know what this is all about, but I'm very disappointed in you Alfred-"
"You only scheduled a HALF HOUR!" America protested in a voice that reminded England of a pouting child he had known well.
"What does that have to do-"
"Don't ask, you won't get a sensible answer, and it doesn't matter." England interrupted. "Listen, did it ever occur to the two of you that there was a reason your predecessors called it a 'Special Relationship'?"
"Well, I-" Mr. Obama seemed to be searching for the right words.
"That's just-" Mr. Brown wasn't having an easier time of it.
"Mr. President. Mr. Prime Minister." America interrupted again, his head bowed on England's shoulder. "Please understand, we aren't like you. No matter how I feel, I don't have the luxury of going home to the one I love every night. We can't. So we steal any moments we can. No disrespect was meant, and...and I'm sorry."
England felt himself burn more, and fought back the brief twitch of his lips. "NOW you apologize!?" He raged, because he couldn't, he wouldn't, during this horribly awkward moment, make himself even more embarassed by letting anyone see how happy those words made him feel.
"Alfred, I didn't know." Mr. Obama said quietly.
"Well, now you know." England bristled, suddenly feeling more possessive than he should. "Please step out for a while and allow your nations to collect the shreds of their dignity, if you would?"
"Arthur! That's no way to-"
"Not now, Mr. Brown. Not NOW. If you wish to discuss this further, it will be outside this building. I'm perfectly willing to accept any responsibilities for my actions at that time."
"Right, there's no time for this now." With a nod, Mr. Obama pulled Mr. Brown out of the room. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out now that the shock was beginning to wear off. "Alfred, I'll want to talk about this later when there's time. And remember today's schedule."
"I know, the schedule." America mumbled into England's shoulder.
Why It's Called A Special Relationship (4/3) because I fail Xp
anonymous
March 31 2009, 04:04:23 UTC
As soon as the door clicked close, England felt all the strength sap out of him, and he collapsed against America. "Oh god," he said weakly into his hair. "I'm going to catch hell for that later. I can't believe I..."
America laughed.
"How can you laugh at a time like this!?"
Lifting his head, America kissed him softly. "Did you just defend my honor, sir?"
"Hmf." England just kissed him back slowly.
"Are we still on for tonight?" America stroked his hands back through England's hair as they continued kissing. England closed his eyes at how good it felt.
"Hell yes." Even now, he didn't want to let go yet. "Even if only to get away from how awkward it's going to be. The plane trip back is going to be so pleasant."
"Is that the only reason?"
"Don't ask me stupid questions." England finally stopped kissing him and pulled back to smile into those sky-blue eyes. "It isn't every night we can go home, you know."
Re: Why It's Called A Special Relationship (4/3) because I fail Xp
anonymous
March 31 2009, 05:42:03 UTC
....some of the hottest smut on this meme, in my humble opinion, but what sealed it was England and American being walked on by their Bosses. And Arthur defending Alfred, aw! Great job, anonywriter!
Re: Why It's Called A Special Relationship (4/3) because I fail Xp
anonymous
March 31 2009, 18:28:17 UTC
I melted, and I normally hate interrupted sex. In fact, this story takes a lot of things I don't normally like and makes me like them, so kudos to you for that - this is absolutely lovely ♥
England felt out the condom and the small tube. He edged forward and pushed the condom into America's chest. "Put it on."
"Right." America stood up and took the condom from England, and fumbled with the packaging for a few moments.
Watching America roll the condom over his erection, England squeezed the lube onto his fingers a little too roughly. He quickly set the tube aside and scooted to the edge of the desk.
Wrapping an arm around America's waist to pull him closer, England rubbed the lube onto him. America's legs were quaking when he bent to kiss England's forehead, before their lips met again in a searing kiss.
England's arms went around America's shoulders, clutching at the jacket for dear life as he gave a small hop, his legs jackknifing across America's back. Leaning against the desk, America lifted England's hips and guided himself into position. Then America started pushing in.
It was too thick, too much, TOO GOOD, and England's body was breaking in sparks of pain and pleasure. Then it was done, the breaking and the noise diminished aside from their own labored breathing. America was completely sheathed inside, and England couldn't stop shaking.
"I hope no one heard that." America was twitching as much as he was.
"Idiot." England's voice was rough. "It's too late to worry about that, just get on with it."
America hardly needed to be told, his hips were already jerking deliciously against his ass, and England was already beginning to spasm as he hit him just the way he needed it. They had barely started, and he thought he wouldn't even need to touch himself to come at this rate.
England tried to bite his cheek to stay quiet, but couldn't stop the low-pitched whimpers of ecstacy that slipped past his lips on nearly every strike. America lightly kissed and teased his mouth until England pushed his tongue in his mouth and deepened the kiss.
England was drenched with heat, and he had to claw into America's jacket to keep his grip. They began pounding into each other with furious intent, racing to reach completion. They couldn't be there all day, after all. England arched his back, trying to increase the friction of his erection against America's sweat-slicked abs.
As America's thrusts intensified, England knew he was almost finished. It was also evident in the tightened grip on England's hip and shoulder. His breath was a hot wind against his neck, burning, burning...
"England," his name came out of America in a broken groan as he came, riding it out in hard, grinding thrusts. "England..."
So close... With a half cry, England ground himself down and arched back without abandon as he sought his own pleasure. Please, beautiful America, please... My America, please... please... He was so far gone, he wasn't sure if he said it aloud or not.
Then America's hand was there on him, and one good pull, somehow it was enough- the tension in England's body uncoiled and erupted in bliss. Oh, it was so GOOD, and he was calling out America's name repeatedly in soft, exhausted cries as he unloaded himself all...why were the lights on?
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Oh GOD.
He lifted his head, damp fringe sticking to his face, and looked, unwillingly, over America's shoulder and towards the door. Sure enough, the door was open. And there was Mr. Obama and Mr. Brown, standing in the doorway like deer in headlights.
America hadn't turned around, his eyes tightly shut. "Oh. I forgot to lock the door, didn't I..."
"Yes. Yes, you did." England hissed.
Mr. Brown had turned a few interesting colors. "Just what is your country doing to Arthur!? This is...this is...!"
"Now, hold on!" America finally whipped his head aside angrily, and looked like he was about to turn around, but England held onto him, not ready to fully expose any more than they already had (such as the lovely mess currently decorating their midsections). He also didn't want to risk America actually getting into a fight with his boss. He wasn't going to put it past either of them.
"HOLD UP!" England bellowed. His already sex-flushed face was burning, and he wanted to sink into the ground and die, but he faced their bosses with a stern face and as much self-righteous bluster as he could summon. "He's not doing anything I didn't want him to do, so don't get your knickers in a twist."
"It's not my knickers on the floor!"
"Maybe you two could get off the desk now," Mr. Obama seemed to have finally found his voice. "I don't know what this is all about, but I'm very disappointed in you Alfred-"
"You only scheduled a HALF HOUR!" America protested in a voice that reminded England of a pouting child he had known well.
"What does that have to do-"
"Don't ask, you won't get a sensible answer, and it doesn't matter." England interrupted. "Listen, did it ever occur to the two of you that there was a reason your predecessors called it a 'Special Relationship'?"
"Well, I-" Mr. Obama seemed to be searching for the right words.
"That's just-" Mr. Brown wasn't having an easier time of it.
"Mr. President. Mr. Prime Minister." America interrupted again, his head bowed on England's shoulder. "Please understand, we aren't like you. No matter how I feel, I don't have the luxury of going home to the one I love every night. We can't. So we steal any moments we can. No disrespect was meant, and...and I'm sorry."
England felt himself burn more, and fought back the brief twitch of his lips. "NOW you apologize!?" He raged, because he couldn't, he wouldn't, during this horribly awkward moment, make himself even more embarassed by letting anyone see how happy those words made him feel.
"Alfred, I didn't know." Mr. Obama said quietly.
"Well, now you know." England bristled, suddenly feeling more possessive than he should. "Please step out for a while and allow your nations to collect the shreds of their dignity, if you would?"
"Arthur! That's no way to-"
"Not now, Mr. Brown. Not NOW. If you wish to discuss this further, it will be outside this building. I'm perfectly willing to accept any responsibilities for my actions at that time."
"Right, there's no time for this now." With a nod, Mr. Obama pulled Mr. Brown out of the room. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out now that the shock was beginning to wear off. "Alfred, I'll want to talk about this later when there's time. And remember today's schedule."
"I know, the schedule." America mumbled into England's shoulder.
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America laughed.
"How can you laugh at a time like this!?"
Lifting his head, America kissed him softly. "Did you just defend my honor, sir?"
"Hmf." England just kissed him back slowly.
"Are we still on for tonight?" America stroked his hands back through England's hair as they continued kissing. England closed his eyes at how good it felt.
"Hell yes." Even now, he didn't want to let go yet. "Even if only to get away from how awkward it's going to be. The plane trip back is going to be so pleasant."
"Is that the only reason?"
"Don't ask me stupid questions." England finally stopped kissing him and pulled back to smile into those sky-blue eyes. "It isn't every night we can go home, you know."
end.
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(Not OP, by the way)
This is just amazing. Excellent job!
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MADE MY DAY. I LOVE YOU.
(Not!OP)
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also the whole "Did it ever OCCUR to you" situation had me loling
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