Re: Just That Good [7]
anonymous
June 7 2009, 15:38:36 UTC
His hum sends sparks flicking through her blood. She watches, feeling helpless, as he drapes one arm over her hips, and moves the other hand just below that. She has about five seconds to wonder what he’s doing before his thumb takes over for his tongue, as he ducks his head lower and kisses her pussy before sliding his tongue inside of her, and fuck, she can feel every time he slides, in, out, deep -
Her orgasm takes her entirely by surprise this time; her hips thrust up and her fingers claw into his hair as her voice breaks into a high, quavering note. She thrashes against the arm pinning her to the bed, and his tongue curls deep, deep inside of her, his thumb still rubbing and teasing her.
He pulls away with one final kiss and moves onto his knees. She sees the wetness smeared around his mouth and chin; it compliments his cocky smirk.
“You liked that?” he murmurs, his thumb still rubbing at her in slow, wide circles. “Bet he never made you feel that way.”
England flushes and glares. “I - you -”
She shuts herself up by sitting up, throwing her arms around America, and crashing their mouths together. She laps at his mouth, his chin, and tastes herself on them; Alfred moans and opens his mouth, giving her more, and they spread the bitter, citric taste between them.
They pant when they separate and look at each other through hooded eyes; England gasps as America presses in and up, and God, it still feels so good. “What…what are you….”
“I had a lover before,” America says, “that wouldn’t have sex with me until I learned how to please her.” His lips quirk up in a grin as her eyelashes flutter. “What do you think?”
“I think you need to stop your atrocious habit of talking about our past sex lives in bed,” she mutters.
America’s laugh is bright as he lowers her back to the bed, as her arms come up to circle around him. She moans as he presses their hips together, feeling his cock twitch and strain against his jeans.
“Do you want to…” she starts, but blushes and finds she can’t finish. “You know,” she says, and twirls her fingers into his hair.
“Is that what you want?”
For the first time that day, England smirks back at him. “Didn’t you say you were going to show me how good it is?”
One hand sneaks down to cup the bulge, and she squeezes it. America shivers and squeezes his eyes shut, and she relishes the flush of arousal and want on his cheekbones.
“All…all right,” he grits through his teeth. “Just…just give me a minute.”
He crawls off the bed, walking to the bathroom. England feels her confidence fade and wonders just what she’s gotten herself into.
She knows that America is different from Francis. That doesn’t stop the anxiety in the pit of her stomach - the fear that things might go just as they had before.
Her thoughts stutter to a halt when America climbs back on the bed, grinning at her. She sends him a flat look.
“America, dare I ask what that is between your teeth?”
“Always best to be prepared,” he says when he takes it from his mouth with his fingers.
England stares at him for a little bit longer before cupping her face in her hands. “Why can’t you do things like normal people? Your jeans have pockets for a reason, America, you should use -”
He silences her with a kiss, and she grows warm when she feels him chuckle against her mouth. His fingers come up and toy with her pigtails - one, two, three tugs, and the gum bands are flung away, her hair spread out around her head as they kiss.
England’s hands grow more adventurous; she reaches between them, unzips America’s pants. His erection springs up and right into her hands. She thinks for a moment, summoning up memories of when she did this long ago. She doesn’t realize America has stopped kissing her, panting against her lips, as she squeezes and gives one long stroke with both her hands.
“Ohfuck,” he snarls against her lips, making her start as he thrusts down into her hand. Her eyes scan his face as she keeps stroking him, alternating her hands and watching his reactions. Seeing America like this, with clenched teeth and squeezed-shut eyes….
It’s intoxicating, dizzying, to even think that she has this kind of power over him.
Re: Just That Good [7]
anonymous
June 7 2009, 16:02:56 UTC
Oh geez. Much as I love the smut here, what really gets to me is the sheer sweetness between them. The pigtails were <333. I love this fill so very, very much.
Re: Just That Good [7]
anonymous
June 7 2009, 16:09:26 UTC
Guh. *flails helplessly* England's orgasm was hot to read, but that last bit? Where she's making America snarl and pant and thrust? oooooh yes, please. I love smarmy!bastard America, but I also like reading him losing control...just as much as I loved reading England losing control for a bit there. Oh please say there's more coming.
Her orgasm takes her entirely by surprise this time; her hips thrust up and her fingers claw into his hair as her voice breaks into a high, quavering note. She thrashes against the arm pinning her to the bed, and his tongue curls deep, deep inside of her, his thumb still rubbing and teasing her.
He pulls away with one final kiss and moves onto his knees. She sees the wetness smeared around his mouth and chin; it compliments his cocky smirk.
“You liked that?” he murmurs, his thumb still rubbing at her in slow, wide circles. “Bet he never made you feel that way.”
England flushes and glares. “I - you -”
She shuts herself up by sitting up, throwing her arms around America, and crashing their mouths together. She laps at his mouth, his chin, and tastes herself on them; Alfred moans and opens his mouth, giving her more, and they spread the bitter, citric taste between them.
They pant when they separate and look at each other through hooded eyes; England gasps as America presses in and up, and God, it still feels so good. “What…what are you….”
“I had a lover before,” America says, “that wouldn’t have sex with me until I learned how to please her.” His lips quirk up in a grin as her eyelashes flutter. “What do you think?”
“I think you need to stop your atrocious habit of talking about our past sex lives in bed,” she mutters.
America’s laugh is bright as he lowers her back to the bed, as her arms come up to circle around him. She moans as he presses their hips together, feeling his cock twitch and strain against his jeans.
“Do you want to…” she starts, but blushes and finds she can’t finish. “You know,” she says, and twirls her fingers into his hair.
“Is that what you want?”
For the first time that day, England smirks back at him. “Didn’t you say you were going to show me how good it is?”
One hand sneaks down to cup the bulge, and she squeezes it. America shivers and squeezes his eyes shut, and she relishes the flush of arousal and want on his cheekbones.
“All…all right,” he grits through his teeth. “Just…just give me a minute.”
He crawls off the bed, walking to the bathroom. England feels her confidence fade and wonders just what she’s gotten herself into.
She knows that America is different from Francis. That doesn’t stop the anxiety in the pit of her stomach - the fear that things might go just as they had before.
Her thoughts stutter to a halt when America climbs back on the bed, grinning at her. She sends him a flat look.
“America, dare I ask what that is between your teeth?”
“Always best to be prepared,” he says when he takes it from his mouth with his fingers.
England stares at him for a little bit longer before cupping her face in her hands. “Why can’t you do things like normal people? Your jeans have pockets for a reason, America, you should use -”
He silences her with a kiss, and she grows warm when she feels him chuckle against her mouth. His fingers come up and toy with her pigtails - one, two, three tugs, and the gum bands are flung away, her hair spread out around her head as they kiss.
England’s hands grow more adventurous; she reaches between them, unzips America’s pants. His erection springs up and right into her hands. She thinks for a moment, summoning up memories of when she did this long ago. She doesn’t realize America has stopped kissing her, panting against her lips, as she squeezes and gives one long stroke with both her hands.
“Ohfuck,” he snarls against her lips, making her start as he thrusts down into her hand. Her eyes scan his face as she keeps stroking him, alternating her hands and watching his reactions. Seeing America like this, with clenched teeth and squeezed-shut eyes….
It’s intoxicating, dizzying, to even think that she has this kind of power over him.
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