finish what you started [4/?]
anonymous
June 24 2009, 06:47:09 UTC
“First,” England bends forward, hand at America’s shoulder.
He kisses America’s brow, which the young colony turns into automatically, as if he’s been waiting-
“You-“ England starts, but America finishes, when he rises up into England’s arms, hands clutching at the older’s shoulders and presses, hotly, greedily, frightened- his mouth to England’s mouth, and holds it there, England’s mind racing thinking you’ve never been kissed, you’ve never been kissed aside from those times when he had been just a little younger, when he had just been small and a babe, England had peppered his face with small, brief pecks of kisses, catching his lips now and then- it had caused America to giggle and push England’s face away, with his fat little hands- it tickles! America would tell him, cheeks pink and smile delighted (that England’s affection was his his his and-) England kisses him back, hard. But America’s never kissed like this, with his body surging up to meet, to press against England’s, back bending over the table, trying to breathe, and swallowing air in just as hungrily as England is sucking at his throat, his neck, the collarbone-
“No,” England starts, America frowns when the country tries to back away.
America fists at England’s shirt and pulls England back to him.
“England, England,” America calls, expression distressed and England’s heart twists the other way.
Before he may reply, may refuse- (his America, his sweet America, was he not just a boy? A young confused boy? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything...) But England also thinks, isn’t it my right to teach him?
“England, I’m sick,” and trailing his fingers over, across England’s face, mapping ever single fucking shire there’s ever been- licking at his lips, drying from since England took his mouth away- “Don’t you want to help me get better?”
finish what you started [5/?]
anonymous
June 24 2009, 07:46:19 UTC
The ticking.
England is aware of it now, louder- louder- than yes, hissing from his teeth, “But we- I can’t-“ he looks about the room trying to find something set his eye upon, but he finds there’s nothing he wants to look at but America.
“We all go through this. It’s because you’re young, America.”
The guise of summer and colds is cast to the side and caught at the edge of a long time argument.
“A-and,” swallowing that hard lump in his throat (from the last, from the first time?), England presses his hands against America’s chest, “You feel this way because I’m the only one- I’m the closest to you.”
America looks up at him confused.
“So, if France-“ England flinches, “-or someone else had been here… I’d want to do this with them too?”
England isn’t sure his voice is usable, but at least he mouths yes, and nods. Neck stiff, and fingers digging so hard against America’s flesh he’s worried he’ll leave bruises (but let him let him let him leave bruises!). The high rising panic in his brain, claws its way with the ticking, louder, louder- that clock-
-unavoidable, to picture his America flushed and needy against someone else, someone not him, and there’s no mirror, he’s unable to see the horror that etches itself into every inch of his face, reflecting in America’s eyes, but he’s blind to it, so long as he keeps picturing America as he is now, legs spread and thighs pressing against someone else’s hips, envisioning those field calloused hands slipping over their neck, sliding down their back as his soft mouth parted and asked for more- harder- faster- someone else touching his-
-but it’s England, America does this too, slipping his hands over the back of England’s neck reassuringly, his palms are surprisingly soft.
“I don’t believe you,” America whispers, touching their noses together, kissing him softly on the mouth, once. Twice. “You’re a liar.”
Re: finish what you started [6/?]
anonymous
June 24 2009, 07:48:09 UTC
England’s voice is stuck in his throat, replacing the lump.
“How can I want anyone else but you, England?”
England shakes his head, like he doesn’t know. Hanging, but I drove everyone else from you, so America won’t know. Won’t want. He doesn’t want to know, he can only think that when America smiles, presses even softer kisses to his cheek, to his brow, to the corner of his moist eyes that it is sincere, that it is because he is England and America loves- his voice hitches up out of his throat; the ticking becomes so unbearable in his head, that it feels to combust against the backs of his eyes- “America, America-“
Cupping at his colony’s face, and returning those soft kisses until America is breathless, and sighing, pressing his hips against England’s from the bent uncomfortable position, with his back cutting into the side of the table, slipping.
“How can I-“ America chokes on his own words, a hand dipping into England’s hair, while the other curiously slips down England’s shirt to feel his back, heart pounding- at the discovery that England’s skin is burning- words tumbling out in cut garble- “How can I not-” a sigh, England’s skin is not only so hot, but slick and- “no one else looks at me like you do England-”
And England looks at him.
Looks at him all he likes as if he had been denied to do so at their earlier meal, as if he hasn’t really been looking, because he’s too busy trying not to for once- trying not to because this time America will be looking back and if America looks back-
England wouldn’t be able to-
“Are you sick too?”
America asks.
And bending to speak softly into his ear, England replies, jealously gripping America against him- “Yes. You’ll have to help cure me too.”
oh-oh my gosh anon that was. . .oh my gosh I felt so much feeling out of that asldksllkadlkslkds that was so awesome. even though this isn't the end the leave off is perfect
Re: finish what you started [6/?]
anonymous
June 24 2009, 15:22:37 UTC
Oh God, your style! It is amazing, and I know I have seen it before...Your way with words is just so brilliant, few people can write in such a movie-like fashion...I think I know who you are, but that doesn't matter, this is amazing! Thank you for writing this!
This was my first request I ever asked on this kink meme. And for it to be filled with such beautiful writing is making me kind of ditzy. Don't apoligize for lack of fluff! This is much, muuuch better than I expected.
He kisses America’s brow, which the young colony turns into automatically, as if he’s been waiting-
“You-“ England starts, but America finishes, when he rises up into England’s arms, hands clutching at the older’s shoulders and presses, hotly, greedily, frightened- his mouth to England’s mouth, and holds it there, England’s mind racing thinking you’ve never been kissed, you’ve never been kissed aside from those times when he had been just a little younger, when he had just been small and a babe, England had peppered his face with small, brief pecks of kisses, catching his lips now and then- it had caused America to giggle and push England’s face away, with his fat little hands- it tickles! America would tell him, cheeks pink and smile delighted (that England’s affection was his his his and-) England kisses him back, hard. But America’s never kissed like this, with his body surging up to meet, to press against England’s, back bending over the table, trying to breathe, and swallowing air in just as hungrily as England is sucking at his throat, his neck, the collarbone-
“No,” England starts, America frowns when the country tries to back away.
America fists at England’s shirt and pulls England back to him.
“England, England,” America calls, expression distressed and England’s heart twists the other way.
Before he may reply, may refuse- (his America, his sweet America, was he not just a boy? A young confused boy? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything...) But England also thinks, isn’t it my right to teach him?
“England, I’m sick,” and trailing his fingers over, across England’s face, mapping ever single fucking shire there’s ever been- licking at his lips, drying from since England took his mouth away- “Don’t you want to help me get better?”
tbc.
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Oh fuck.
I LOVE YOU SOOO MUCH AUTHOR!ANON. MUST READ MOREEEEEEE.
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/can't write fluff worth anon's life D:
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England is aware of it now, louder- louder- than yes, hissing from his teeth, “But we- I can’t-“ he looks about the room trying to find something set his eye upon, but he finds there’s nothing he wants to look at but America.
“We all go through this. It’s because you’re young, America.”
The guise of summer and colds is cast to the side and caught at the edge of a long time argument.
“A-and,” swallowing that hard lump in his throat (from the last, from the first time?), England presses his hands against America’s chest, “You feel this way because I’m the only one- I’m the closest to you.”
America looks up at him confused.
“So, if France-“ England flinches, “-or someone else had been here… I’d want to do this with them too?”
England isn’t sure his voice is usable, but at least he mouths yes, and nods. Neck stiff, and fingers digging so hard against America’s flesh he’s worried he’ll leave bruises (but let him let him let him leave bruises!). The high rising panic in his brain, claws its way with the ticking, louder, louder- that clock-
-unavoidable, to picture his America flushed and needy against someone else, someone not him, and there’s no mirror, he’s unable to see the horror that etches itself into every inch of his face, reflecting in America’s eyes, but he’s blind to it, so long as he keeps picturing America as he is now, legs spread and thighs pressing against someone else’s hips, envisioning those field calloused hands slipping over their neck, sliding down their back as his soft mouth parted and asked for more- harder- faster- someone else touching his-
-but it’s England, America does this too, slipping his hands over the back of England’s neck reassuringly, his palms are surprisingly soft.
“I don’t believe you,” America whispers, touching their noses together, kissing him softly on the mouth, once. Twice. “You’re a liar.”
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“How can I want anyone else but you, England?”
England shakes his head, like he doesn’t know. Hanging, but I drove everyone else from you, so America won’t know. Won’t want. He doesn’t want to know, he can only think that when America smiles, presses even softer kisses to his cheek, to his brow, to the corner of his moist eyes that it is sincere, that it is because he is England and America loves- his voice hitches up out of his throat; the ticking becomes so unbearable in his head, that it feels to combust against the backs of his eyes- “America, America-“
Cupping at his colony’s face, and returning those soft kisses until America is breathless, and sighing, pressing his hips against England’s from the bent uncomfortable position, with his back cutting into the side of the table, slipping.
“How can I-“ America chokes on his own words, a hand dipping into England’s hair, while the other curiously slips down England’s shirt to feel his back, heart pounding- at the discovery that England’s skin is burning- words tumbling out in cut garble- “How can I not-” a sigh, England’s skin is not only so hot, but slick and- “no one else looks at me like you do England-”
And England looks at him.
Looks at him all he likes as if he had been denied to do so at their earlier meal, as if he hasn’t really been looking, because he’s too busy trying not to for once- trying not to because this time America will be looking back and if America looks back-
England wouldn’t be able to-
“Are you sick too?”
America asks.
And bending to speak softly into his ear, England replies, jealously gripping America against him- “Yes. You’ll have to help cure me too.”
-hold back.
tbc.
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that was. . .oh my gosh I felt so much feeling out of that asldksllkadlkslkds
that was
so awesome. even though this isn't the end the leave off is perfect
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I was just holding my breath, and there's this sickening feeling this will not end well.
(oh please let that not be so. ;_;)
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This! Sitting at the edge reading this! England being so reluctant is killing me~ Then America being so eager, but still so young! Ahhhhhhhhhh~
Anon here is still high-strung from reading this, so I shall press that F5 button for the next update!
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This was my first request I ever asked on this kink meme. And for it to be filled with such beautiful writing is making me kind of ditzy. Don't apoligize for lack of fluff! This is much, muuuch better than I expected.
OP awaits more ;w;
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