axis powers
hetalia kink meme
VIEW THIS PART ON DREAMWIDTH Masterlist of kink memes |
Masterlist of KinksOkay, let's make history and be more epic than
these people, shall we?
STOP! DO NOT REQUEST HERE!
NEW REQUESTS GO IN THE MOST RECENT PART!
New fills for this part go
HERE .Get information at the News Post
HERE.
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.
Reply
“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.
Reply
OMG! That was damn hot! And I actually jumped a little when I got to the end. XDDDDD
Great job, Anon!
Reply
Reply
Reply
The ending = made of win.
Marry me, authornon. Please? <3
Reply
Reply
shit. you're making me like France/UK.
*goes to hide*
Reply
Reply
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!
Reply
DO IT.
Reply
*goes to remedy terrible lj ignorance*
Reply
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
Reply
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!
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment