England was so small, he mused to himself as he stroked the boy with one hand, watching the redness spread over that tiny body. With his other hand, he played with those long, furry ears, the proof of England's innocence. They trembled and twitched under the pads of his fingers, from the light scrape of his nails, and their owner whimpered in time to his touches.
It was the island, he decided. Because England was on an island, he was safe. Sure, he said he had brothers running around, but also that he was frequently ignored, and that he was fine with it because it meant fewer beatings and, besides, it left him more time to spend with all his fairy friends. Living like that must have been very lonely.
He bent his head to press a kiss to England's chest, feeling the flutter of the boy's heart against his lips and feeling gratified. He kissed his way down the blushing torso and took the entirety of the little cock into his mouth. Short, stubby fingers tangled into his hair as England gasped and keened, hips jerking upwards reflexively. From the way the boy arched and the way those fingers clenched, he knew that England had reached climax, even if he was still too young to come.
The boy's eyes were glazed, but he had strength enough to protest when France tried to kiss him on the lips.
"That's dirty, you bastard," he gasped out between deep breaths.
Dirty?
--and hands forcing his mouth open a warning don't use your teeth and choking crying drooling--
France smirked down at the boy. "I thought someone wanted to do grown-up stuff? If there are only kids here, I think I'll be leaving..."
England pulled him down violently, eyes scrunched shut and lips puckered exaggeratedly. He giggled, even as he brushed his lips against England's, earning him an embarrassed glare. He couldn't help it: England was adorable. Burying his face against those soft, floppy ears, he pulled the boy into a tight hug.
Back when he'd first arrived at the island, he had been surprised to find that someone else was already there, another one of their kind. England had apparently been more surprised, because his first words were, "What happened to your ears?"
It took him awhile to realise that England really didn't know. Having grown up on that island with indifferent brothers, all he knew was that 'grown-ups' didn't have ears like him, and that he wasn't a 'grown-up'. It'd surprised him to see someone close to his age without ears, and he was just curious to know why France got to be a 'grown-up' so soon. He didn't know. He didn't know what exactly it entailed to be a 'grown-up'.
England liked having his ears stroked, France noticed, so he lavished attention on them while he still could. The boy seemed to be getting excited again, making happy, contented sounds as France played with his ears.
His hand seemed so big against England's back, running down and down and down in firm, even strokes. He made sure to reach all the way down to the end of England's little tuft of a tail, drawing out delicious shivers from the small body.
"I love you," he mumbled absently, coaxing the boy's slender legs open and pressing little kisses to the insides of those white thighs.
It was the island, he decided. Because England was on an island, he was safe. Sure, he said he had brothers running around, but also that he was frequently ignored, and that he was fine with it because it meant fewer beatings and, besides, it left him more time to spend with all his fairy friends. Living like that must have been very lonely.
He bent his head to press a kiss to England's chest, feeling the flutter of the boy's heart against his lips and feeling gratified. He kissed his way down the blushing torso and took the entirety of the little cock into his mouth. Short, stubby fingers tangled into his hair as England gasped and keened, hips jerking upwards reflexively. From the way the boy arched and the way those fingers clenched, he knew that England had reached climax, even if he was still too young to come.
The boy's eyes were glazed, but he had strength enough to protest when France tried to kiss him on the lips.
"That's dirty, you bastard," he gasped out between deep breaths.
Dirty?
--and hands forcing his mouth open a warning don't use your teeth and choking crying drooling--
France smirked down at the boy. "I thought someone wanted to do grown-up stuff? If there are only kids here, I think I'll be leaving..."
England pulled him down violently, eyes scrunched shut and lips puckered exaggeratedly. He giggled, even as he brushed his lips against England's, earning him an embarrassed glare. He couldn't help it: England was adorable. Burying his face against those soft, floppy ears, he pulled the boy into a tight hug.
Back when he'd first arrived at the island, he had been surprised to find that someone else was already there, another one of their kind. England had apparently been more surprised, because his first words were, "What happened to your ears?"
It took him awhile to realise that England really didn't know. Having grown up on that island with indifferent brothers, all he knew was that 'grown-ups' didn't have ears like him, and that he wasn't a 'grown-up'. It'd surprised him to see someone close to his age without ears, and he was just curious to know why France got to be a 'grown-up' so soon. He didn't know. He didn't know what exactly it entailed to be a 'grown-up'.
England liked having his ears stroked, France noticed, so he lavished attention on them while he still could. The boy seemed to be getting excited again, making happy, contented sounds as France played with his ears.
His hand seemed so big against England's back, running down and down and down in firm, even strokes. He made sure to reach all the way down to the end of England's little tuft of a tail, drawing out delicious shivers from the small body.
"I love you," he mumbled absently, coaxing the boy's slender legs open and pressing little kisses to the insides of those white thighs.
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reCAPTCHA says: head workers (WAT.)
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