Re: it was not suppose to hurt 3/4
anonymous
July 17 2012, 21:12:22 UTC
‘’I would help you…’’ England flushes and sits on their bed on his side. ‘’’Yeah… I was kinda horny, teen hormones … you get that.’’ he mumbled laughing with a slight jitters edge but England doesn’t notice that. His own mind only taking the panting flushed blond on their bed. England bites his lip and smirks a bit ‘’Do you want help?’’ America feels guilt again on his chest but he is still hard under the pillow and takes a breath before murmuring ‘’I would like that…’’ England kisses him softly, too soft, even when he nibbles on his lip he thinks he his not as soft as Russia can be, he prefers it hard though, but he won’t tell it to England, he would never be as rough and hard as Russia can be either. England crawls to the bed and bites his neck, America takes the pillow on their middle and feels England lowering himself and grinding his hardening member against him, not hard enough, not big enough. America moans softly and feels the man above him taking his coat, tie and shirt. Summer clothes, he prefers Russia’s summer clothes, the soft scarf always there. He likes to play with the scarf and enjoy how Russia blushes when he does that. America feels England biting and touching his chest with his lean calloused hands, and can smell his hair; it smells like rain and tea. How he wished it smelled like pine, snow and vodka musk with a hint of sunflowers somehow hiding the chamomile scent. England’s hands are not enough, they do not get everywhere, and they do not touch him like Russia’s big hands would. These hands make him feel too big, too fat; he doesn’t want to think about it when they grab his erect shaft. England is stroking as he takes his pants and shorts, they make it quick, only a few times slow. He prefers the slow times Russia had with him, even in the janitor’s closet they would take time, they would be passionate, they would grind and rut like animals on heat, England is too proper for that. He prefers to think that he never heard how England does those things with France in a more passionate way. He should feel jealous be he can’t.. England leans and takes his member on his mouth, wet sounds coming from him and America tries not to buck because it feels good. Yes, it does, but it’s not the same. England can take him all, Russia can’t but he can’t move his tongue like Russia can, he can’t make him loose control as Russia can. America bites his lip as his eyes stung a bit and he stays still as he feels a lubed finger on his rear caressing and teasing his puckered entrance. England finally moves the finger in and he sighs looking down for the first time, he sees England, his father figure, his big brother, the man he aspired to be one day until he decided he could be better. How he wished it was Russia there. He feels heavy and shifts his line of vision to the ceiling. He prefers watch the ceiling and imagine Russia than look down and see how he is lying to England. Two fingers are in and a third enters, it stings and his muscles try to push him off, he wants to laugh, Russia needs to putt four fingers and his doesn’t reject him as much. ‘’Feeling good huh?’’ England teases and he nods, he must have chuckled. A sudden wave of pleasure hits him and he gasps, England keeps hitting that place and he feels England take his fingers. He whimpers a bit at the lost, he knows if it was with Russia he would wine and rush him though. England kisses him again, his tongue prods and he opens his mouth responding to the kiss. Never sweet or competitive as with Russia. America realises that is wrong in so many ways but suddenly he feels England rubbing his erection on his rear and he opens his legs pushing his hips up to help. England enters in one motion. He his lubed and slippery, America doesn’t know when that happened too. England waits and all America can think is how Russia would enter slowly making him feel every inch. With England it feels uncomfortable and stings a bit, with Russia is slightly painful until he relaxes. He prefers that initial pain, it feels more real.
Re: it was not suppose to hurt 4/4
anonymous
July 17 2012, 21:20:37 UTC
England is little above him, he holds America but almost can’t, Russia would hold him as if he was a ragged doll. Russia would make love to him in many positions because he can hold both as America can also hold both. England can’t hold both and that makes him feel heavier. Bitter. England starts moving and prodding until he hits his prostate in every motion, America gasps and digs his nails into his back but removes when he looks into England’s face and sees pain. Russia would be glad for that nails, he would take him harder and make him feel his weight above him, he misses his weight.
‘’America? Am I hurting you?’’ England goes slowly and looks at him concerned. ‘’Nope, why?’’ Is he crying? No, he’s not… why did he stop? It was feeling nice, jut not enough, not enough to make it fantastic and incredible as it was with Russia. ‘’You eyes looked wet and you made a pained face.. If I hurt you tell me, don’t be prideful!’’ England frowns and he wants to laugh so he chuckles a bit and kisses his cheek. ‘’Keep going, but harder.’’ He wants to laugh because he scowls him even on bed; he wants to laugh because Russia would never continue if he showed a pained face, he wants to laugh because he wants to cry. It’s wrong, oh so wrong… and it hurts. England rushed his pace until he stirs and comes inside him, he doesn’t feel that, only the tensing body and hands gripping tighter on his dick. England keeps jerking him but he can’t come, not yet… not enough… With Russia he is the first one to come and even achieves the second orgasm in one round. England looks up to him and he smiles a bit shakily, England pulls himself out of him and he helps England pumping him. He comes minutes later with their both hands on his erect dick, England lips on his throat and his mind on Russia’s ass in those tight pants he wore at the meeting.
They collapse side by side and England finally asks ‘’What’s wrong?’’ America wants to tell him, he does.. But if he did he would admit he just fucked with his own /brother/, that he is in love with his /enemy/ and that his chest /hurts/ so much that not even the fucking crisis can make it hurt more. When he feels arms around him he notices he started to cry and sits hugging his legs. He could say it now… He wants… but… He prefers to go for the easiest way… never about him but about the others. ‘’I know you cheated on me with France…’’ England looked mortified but guilt was on his face too, America finds himself glad that it was true and that he has a reason to end it all. ‘’It was a mistake; the bloody frog took advantage when I was drunk… I....’’ England tries but can’t say more.. ‘’I’m sorry America, I really am... please… it was just once…’’ ‘’Do you love him?’’ America looks at England who looks too thoughtful for his own good. ‘’I want you… please America…’’'Ah, you're tired of trying with him... I wished I could try again with Russia... selfish bastard'America thinks bitterly. ‘’I want to brake up…’’ ‘’I swear I’m over him, please don’t do this!’’ ‘’I don’t love you England…’’ ‘you’re not enough, you’re not big, funny, stargazer, sunflower lover, vodka lover, hot, Russian… you’re not him… you’ll never be him…’ he wants to say but he closes his eyes and places his head on his legs. England shifts and looks devastated. ‘’I thought… but… I love you…’’ ‘’Not as you love France am I right?’’ ‘Please let me be right this once’ he begs and England looks at him in surprise, he must never thought about that possibility, he probably true then… ‘’America, don’t say that… it’s different…’’ ‘’You can’t love both England, you don’t love me…’’ ‘As I don’t love you’ ‘’America… I do….’’ ‘’I don’t… I’m sorry…’’ England looks about to cry and he goes to the bathroom, he doesn’t want to go back, he is finally free to long for Russia.
When he returns to the bed, there’s a note saying England will be staying in another room. Next morning Canada tells him England slept in France’s room. He finds that he is surprisingly glad for it. No more lies, no more half truths.
Re: it was not suppose to hurt 5/4
anonymous
July 17 2012, 21:24:54 UTC
Russia slept alone, always alone. Always outsider as himself. Now he can feel free to look at him, to want him and lust for him. He wished he could be loved by him. His own eyes take a hard edge and he decides he needs a time away from everyone. He knows he will be still thinking about Russia though.
*-* Russia looks at America, he looks so sad with England. Why his with him? He doesn't know, he shouldn't care but his heart aches when he sees them with their little special relationship. It aches more when America has his blue beautiful eyes filled with sadness. He should be free, no one can catch America. He is a free soul that deserves to be treasured and independent from all the restrains of the world. England should know that. He knows that and he prefers to see him free and happy than stuck somewhere where he would be limited. When he sees him free and with his life filled eyes again he smiles truthfully, as only the blond can make him smile. America is back.
‘’’Yeah… I was kinda horny, teen hormones … you get that.’’ he mumbled laughing with a slight jitters edge but England doesn’t notice that. His own mind only taking the panting flushed blond on their bed.
England bites his lip and smirks a bit ‘’Do you want help?’’
America feels guilt again on his chest but he is still hard under the pillow and takes a breath before murmuring ‘’I would like that…’’
England kisses him softly, too soft, even when he nibbles on his lip he thinks he his not as soft as Russia can be, he prefers it hard though, but he won’t tell it to England, he would never be as rough and hard as Russia can be either.
England crawls to the bed and bites his neck, America takes the pillow on their middle and feels England lowering himself and grinding his hardening member against him, not hard enough, not big enough.
America moans softly and feels the man above him taking his coat, tie and shirt. Summer clothes, he prefers Russia’s summer clothes, the soft scarf always there. He likes to play with the scarf and enjoy how Russia blushes when he does that.
America feels England biting and touching his chest with his lean calloused hands, and can smell his hair; it smells like rain and tea. How he wished it smelled like pine, snow and vodka musk with a hint of sunflowers somehow hiding the chamomile scent.
England’s hands are not enough, they do not get everywhere, and they do not touch him like Russia’s big hands would. These hands make him feel too big, too fat; he doesn’t want to think about it when they grab his erect shaft.
England is stroking as he takes his pants and shorts, they make it quick, only a few times slow. He prefers the slow times Russia had with him, even in the janitor’s closet they would take time, they would be passionate, they would grind and rut like animals on heat, England is too proper for that. He prefers to think that he never heard how England does those things with France in a more passionate way. He should feel jealous be he can’t..
England leans and takes his member on his mouth, wet sounds coming from him and America tries not to buck because it feels good. Yes, it does, but it’s not the same. England can take him all, Russia can’t but he can’t move his tongue like Russia can, he can’t make him loose control as Russia can. America bites his lip as his eyes stung a bit and he stays still as he feels a lubed finger on his rear caressing and teasing his puckered entrance. England finally moves the finger in and he sighs looking down for the first time, he sees England, his father figure, his big brother, the man he aspired to be one day until he decided he could be better. How he wished it was Russia there. He feels heavy and shifts his line of vision to the ceiling. He prefers watch the ceiling and imagine Russia than look down and see how he is lying to England.
Two fingers are in and a third enters, it stings and his muscles try to push him off, he wants to laugh, Russia needs to putt four fingers and his doesn’t reject him as much.
‘’Feeling good huh?’’ England teases and he nods, he must have chuckled.
A sudden wave of pleasure hits him and he gasps, England keeps hitting that place and he feels England take his fingers. He whimpers a bit at the lost, he knows if it was with Russia he would wine and rush him though.
England kisses him again, his tongue prods and he opens his mouth responding to the kiss. Never sweet or competitive as with Russia. America realises that is wrong in so many ways but suddenly he feels England rubbing his erection on his rear and he opens his legs pushing his hips up to help. England enters in one motion. He his lubed and slippery, America doesn’t know when that happened too. England waits and all America can think is how Russia would enter slowly making him feel every inch. With England it feels uncomfortable and stings a bit, with Russia is slightly painful until he relaxes. He prefers that initial pain, it feels more real.
(tbc)
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England starts moving and prodding until he hits his prostate in every motion, America gasps and digs his nails into his back but removes when he looks into England’s face and sees pain. Russia would be glad for that nails, he would take him harder and make him feel his weight above him, he misses his weight.
‘’America? Am I hurting you?’’ England goes slowly and looks at him concerned.
‘’Nope, why?’’ Is he crying? No, he’s not… why did he stop? It was feeling nice, jut not enough, not enough to make it fantastic and incredible as it was with Russia.
‘’You eyes looked wet and you made a pained face.. If I hurt you tell me, don’t be prideful!’’ England frowns and he wants to laugh so he chuckles a bit and kisses his cheek. ‘’Keep going, but harder.’’
He wants to laugh because he scowls him even on bed; he wants to laugh because Russia would never continue if he showed a pained face, he wants to laugh because he wants to cry. It’s wrong, oh so wrong… and it hurts.
England rushed his pace until he stirs and comes inside him, he doesn’t feel that, only the tensing body and hands gripping tighter on his dick. England keeps jerking him but he can’t come, not yet… not enough… With Russia he is the first one to come and even achieves the second orgasm in one round.
England looks up to him and he smiles a bit shakily, England pulls himself out of him and he helps England pumping him. He comes minutes later with their both hands on his erect dick, England lips on his throat and his mind on Russia’s ass in those tight pants he wore at the meeting.
They collapse side by side and England finally asks ‘’What’s wrong?’’
America wants to tell him, he does.. But if he did he would admit he just fucked with his own /brother/, that he is in love with his /enemy/ and that his chest /hurts/ so much that not even the fucking crisis can make it hurt more.
When he feels arms around him he notices he started to cry and sits hugging his legs.
He could say it now… He wants… but…
He prefers to go for the easiest way… never about him but about the others.
‘’I know you cheated on me with France…’’ England looked mortified but guilt was on his face too, America finds himself glad that it was true and that he has a reason to end it all.
‘’It was a mistake; the bloody frog took advantage when I was drunk… I....’’ England tries but can’t say more.. ‘’I’m sorry America, I really am... please… it was just once…’’
‘’Do you love him?’’ America looks at England who looks too thoughtful for his own good.
‘’I want you… please America…’’'Ah, you're tired of trying with him... I wished I could try again with Russia... selfish bastard'America thinks bitterly.
‘’I want to brake up…’’
‘’I swear I’m over him, please don’t do this!’’
‘’I don’t love you England…’’ ‘you’re not enough, you’re not big, funny, stargazer, sunflower lover, vodka lover, hot, Russian… you’re not him… you’ll never be him…’ he wants to say but he closes his eyes and places his head on his legs.
England shifts and looks devastated. ‘’I thought… but… I love you…’’
‘’Not as you love France am I right?’’ ‘Please let me be right this once’ he begs and England looks at him in surprise, he must never thought about that possibility, he probably true then…
‘’America, don’t say that… it’s different…’’
‘’You can’t love both England, you don’t love me…’’ ‘As I don’t love you’
‘’America… I do….’’
‘’I don’t… I’m sorry…’’
England looks about to cry and he goes to the bathroom, he doesn’t want to go back, he is finally free to long for Russia.
When he returns to the bed, there’s a note saying England will be staying in another room. Next morning Canada tells him England slept in France’s room. He finds that he is surprisingly glad for it.
No more lies, no more half truths.
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His own eyes take a hard edge and he decides he needs a time away from everyone. He knows he will be still thinking about Russia though.
*-*
Russia looks at America, he looks so sad with England. Why his with him? He doesn't know, he shouldn't care but his heart aches when he sees them with their little special relationship. It aches more when America has his blue beautiful eyes filled with sadness. He should be free, no one can catch America. He is a free soul that deserves to be treasured and independent from all the restrains of the world. England should know that. He knows that and he prefers to see him free and happy than stuck somewhere where he would be limited.
When he sees him free and with his life filled eyes again he smiles truthfully, as only the blond can make him smile. America is back.
[THE END]
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