In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
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hetalia kink meme
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Okay, let's make history and be more epic than these people, shall we?
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America's view of the top of the bed was blocked by the door, so he couldn't see what was happening above their shoulders, but he could most certainly see what was happening at their midsection. America felt flushed and his dick was becoming increasingly insistent that he do something with it, but just as he couldn't bring himself to leave, he couldn't bring himself to fully enjoy it either. It was wrong, really wrong, that he was watching without them knowing was bad enough, before you even took into account who they were.
America was shocked out of his shamed thoughts when France suddenly flipped England over and his fingers began working their way in somewhere America couldn't see, but he could all too easily imagine. To America's surprise, England didn't resist and his only complaints were that France wasn't going fast enough. He got up on his elbows and knees, ass waving in the air, telling Francis to get on with it.
France, for his part, looked like he knew what he was doing - of course he did - and took everything at his own pace. He only finally eased his way in when England threatened him with some surprisingly graphic violence.
France's hips, at long last, met England's ass and America gave up all pretence and stuck his hand down his boxers. If he ignored his dick any longer, it would probably explode and that would be more than awkward to explain. France set up a slow rhythm, one hand on England's hip, the other resting on his back. England wasn't happy with this, though.
“Come on,” he said, pushing back and upsetting France's rhythm. “Harder.”
“Aren't we impatient today?” said France, just barely speeding up.
“For Christ's sake, harder.” America couldn't see his face, but he knew the kind of frown that would accompany that tone of voice.
“I wouldn't want to hurt you,” said France with a grin that told the real reason he wasn't giving in to England's demands.
“It'd take a much stronger country than you to break me.” France leant forward and dragged England upright by his hair, earning a soft hiss. America had to bite his lip to keep his reaction reigned in.
“Is that so?” England was breathing heavily and a sheen of sweat was catching the soft light of the candles, but he was grinning wide. It reminded America of how England used to look after a long hard game of chase on a hot summer's day, which England had inevitably won. It wasn't the sort of memory that should really have made him thrust harder into his own fist, but it did.
England and France kissed again, France still with a handful of England's hair was able to pull his head back to a position where he could dominate the kiss. They pulled apart, England looking up into France's eyes.
“Bite me.”
France frowned, “Is Alfred rubbing off on you?” The stark image of rubbing himself off on England came unbidden - but not entirely unwanted - to America's mind. He felt like he was happily strolling down the path to Hell. England had been like a father to him. Had looked after him when he was scared and had taught him everything he knew. He wasn't suppose to be having these kinds of thoughts. Trouble was, it felt so good he didn't have the conviction to stop.
“No, you twit, I mean bite me.” France's face brightened considerably.
“Oh,” he said happily and, though his hair hid the action, bit down on England's shoulder. England murmured his approval as he grabbed France's hand and directed it towards his straining dick, which had so far been neglected. France charitably obliged and it wasn't long before they settled on a rhythm that England was finally satisfied with.
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It was all going along nicely, and everyone looked to be reaching their respective climaxes when France stopped. There was a moment of utter stillness while the other two in the room (well, one in the room, one just outside it) scrambled to catch up with this development. England struggled, his fingers digging into France's scalp, until France managed to catch and trap England's arms against his chest. England was well and truly caught. France's dick up his ass, France's hand on his dick and France's arm wrapped around him, holding him tightly. England turned his head towards France, giving America a good look at his beautifully flushed face.
“You fucker,” he said angrily. France replied too quietly to be heard, but England's outraged declaration was easily loud enough. “I will not!” France chuckled and oh-so-slowly drew his hips back, until he was almost entirely out and then slowly pushed back in. England eyelids fluttered and he took a deep breath in. On the exhale he said, “I shan't.” His voice was as shaky as his resolve.
France repeated the move, this time adding kisses up the side of England's neck. “Stop it... Don't...” Arthur said, though it didn't look like he was paying all the much attention to what he was saying. To be honest, neither was America, who was far more interested in enjoying the sights and ignoring the small pit of guilt in his stomach. “Stop... please...” France did it again. “Please. France... France, please.”
France responded quietly, but loud enough to hear this time, “Ask properly.” That England was still able to hesitate was a testament to his strength of will because America was silently begging for him to just say whatever it was that France wanted, he just wanted to come, dammit. It didn't take much longer than a couple of seconds for England's resolve to break completely.
“Je vous en supplie!” he cried at last. That was good enough for France, he removed his hand from England's dick and started pounding into his ass hard and fast. England cried out as he came and fell forward onto the bed. America followed shortly afterwards, biting on his arm to muffle any sounds. France continued at his own leisure before he too collapsed, landing just to the side of England.
America was leaning on the door frame to stay upright because his legs felt like Jell-O and he didn't trust them. However, he had to get back to his bedroom before the others came back to their senses. He hoped they were the kind to go straight to sleep, but he suspected they weren't, just because England liked to make life hard like that. He stumbled a few steps down the hallway, forgetting that the floorboards creaked. Sure enough, one of the old boards groaned in protest at being used. America froze. Let them ignore it, please let them ignore it, no one should be worrying about creaky houses after sex like that.
“What was that?” Damn England. Damn his paranoia and most definitely damn his sudden attractiveness. America pressed himself against the wall, he couldn't be caught like this, he couldn't begin to think of a reason to be out of bed, let alone a reason for the mess he'd made of his pyjama bottoms.
“It wasn't anything,” said France, for once America was grateful for his intervention.
“No, I heard something.” America could hear the tell-tale creaking of someone in the room walking towards the door. America's heart was beating hard enough to burst.
“It was probably one of your fairies.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” said a distressingly close England, “Fairies don't make the floorboards creek.” England's hand came to rest on the door frame America had been leaning on not even a minute earlier. America could make out in the low light a sore red ring where his wrist had been rubbed by the rope.
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“Fine.” The hand left the door frame. “But if we're murdered by a mad axeman, I'm blaming you.” America almost collapsed in relief, but managed to stay upright and pick his way carefully down the hall all the way back to his own bed.
~~~
The mood in the kitchen the next morning was tense. At least, it was for America, despite his attempts to ignore the tension. England wasn't aware of anything to be tense about and France was still in bed. England quietly sipped his tea and red the paper while America tried desperately not to look when his sleeves slipped up a few centimetres. He knew what those sleeves were hiding and it was deeply embarrassing what those kinds of thoughts could do to him. He poured himself another cup of coffee. Now all he had to do was perfect his nonchalant leaning against the counter.
France entered the room loudly and obviously, briefly lifting the weight from America's shoulders. “Bonjour!” he said, “Did everyone sleep well?” England ignored him, but America baulked at the question.
“Me?” he said, trying to keep a completely guilt-free face, “Yeah, fine. I slept fine. You?” France seemed to consider the question.
“Eh,” he said after a moment, “Could've been better.” There was a great amount of spluttering and coughing from England's side of the table before he slammed his cup and paper down.
“Could've--!” England cut himself off and shot a glance at America, who pretended not to notice. “Excuse me,” he continued, standing up, “I seem to have spilt tea down my front.” He turned and left the room, the storm cloud above his head was almost visible. America watched him leave and then went back to looking anywhere that wouldn't remind him of the previous night. He settled on the cup of coffee in his hands.
“That was weird, huh? I wonder what's up with him.”
“I'm sure I don't know.” France started swooping about the kitchen, making his breakfast. America allowed them free reign in the kitchen when they came to stay. France complained about his cooking whenever he tried and England would always criticise his attempts at making tea, so it was easier to let them do it themselves. “I don't pretend to understand what goes on in that head of his.”
France continued with his cooking and they lapsed into silence. It wasn't so bad as the one with England and America almost felt himself starting to relax. France reached behind him to get at the croissants, but once he had them he didn't move away. America simultaneously tried not to look at him and also look like he wasn't bothered by the close quarters.
“You know,” said France sincerely, “Next time, you should join in.”
America choked on his coffee.
~~~
If what England says isn't how to say "I beg you" in French, I'll be quite vexed.
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OMG! That was damn hot! And I actually jumped a little when I got to the end. XDDDDD
Great job, Anon!
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The ending = made of win.
Marry me, authornon. Please? <3
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shit. you're making me like France/UK.
*goes to hide*
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This anon is saving this and will attempt a fanart. Incredibly hhhhhhhhot, all of them, and wonderfully in character. Great ending too. Gah, I have to re-read it now <3!
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DO IT.
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*goes to remedy terrible lj ignorance*
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So.. here. Have a photo of it (no penis either, sorry, this Anon is delivering badly, huh?) Hope you enjoy anyway.
http://s604.photobucket.com/albums/tt122/Anonerone/?action=view¤t=franceukusavoyeuur.jpg
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Anyway, I think you are more than just a little bit fantastic! The smug!France and the angry!England and poor morally conflicted!America. That was pretty much exactly how I imagined it. Thank you so much!
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