Sixty Years [2/?]
anonymous
June 28 2009, 04:43:07 UTC
“Oh, fuck.” Kissing his jaw. “You have no clue-“ Trailing kisses down to his neck. “How much I’ve wanted-“ Sucking and mouthing his neck. “To do this. Only-“ He bit down and oh. “Wouldn’t until you paid off-“ He was ripping open his green jacket, caring less about the buttons that pinged on the floor. “That damned debt. Took you long enough.” Sucking on his collarbone. “Think of it as a thank you.” America looked him in the eyes and England thought he had never seen America’s eyes so blue, or his face so wild, or ever heard his voice so low and filled with lust.
“And don’t try to deny you don’t want it. I know you do. I can feel it.” He pressed down and put delectable pressure on the one area that was started to demand attention. England inclined his head back and moaned, giving up the fight to even try to resist. He had wanted this for too damn long.
And then America was feeling him up through what fabric he had left on him-somehow his jacket had ended up thrown across the room in the haste to get it off and America’s hands were pushing up his undershirt to grasp at skin. “Okay, where is it?” England blinked.
“Where is…what?” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice, since it was light and breathless.
“Your damn erogenous zone! We all have them, like the Italys have the little hair curl and Austria has that mole and-“ he looked into England’s face and then grinned wickedly. “Oh, I see. Why didn’t I think of that before?” And a hand was reaching up to stroke an eyebrow and he felt a shiver go down his spine and straight to his cock.
“A-America…” he managed to get out, pressing into him desperately. His hands clenched the back of America’s bomber jacket-was still fully clothed, the bastard-and his hips twitched impatiently.
“Alfred, Arthur. My name is Alfred. You of all people should know that,” he said, still stroking that one eyebrow. He leaned down and dragged his tongue down his neck and across his collarbone.
“Augh, Alfred.” His hips bucked again, completely on their own volition. “When did you get to be so…?”
“Sexy? Eager? Bold? Slutty?” Alfred supplied happily, tugging at his shirt to get at a much-ignored nipple. “If you remember, at least one-third of me used to belong to France. Y’know, the Lousiana Purchase?”
“And don’t try to deny you don’t want it. I know you do. I can feel it.” He pressed down and put delectable pressure on the one area that was started to demand attention. England inclined his head back and moaned, giving up the fight to even try to resist. He had wanted this for too damn long.
And then America was feeling him up through what fabric he had left on him-somehow his jacket had ended up thrown across the room in the haste to get it off and America’s hands were pushing up his undershirt to grasp at skin. “Okay, where is it?” England blinked.
“Where is…what?” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice, since it was light and breathless.
“Your damn erogenous zone! We all have them, like the Italys have the little hair curl and Austria has that mole and-“ he looked into England’s face and then grinned wickedly. “Oh, I see. Why didn’t I think of that before?” And a hand was reaching up to stroke an eyebrow and he felt a shiver go down his spine and straight to his cock.
“A-America…” he managed to get out, pressing into him desperately. His hands clenched the back of America’s bomber jacket-was still fully clothed, the bastard-and his hips twitched impatiently.
“Alfred, Arthur. My name is Alfred. You of all people should know that,” he said, still stroking that one eyebrow. He leaned down and dragged his tongue down his neck and across his collarbone.
“Augh, Alfred.” His hips bucked again, completely on their own volition. “When did you get to be so…?”
“Sexy? Eager? Bold? Slutty?” Alfred supplied happily, tugging at his shirt to get at a much-ignored nipple. “If you remember, at least one-third of me used to belong to France. Y’know, the Lousiana Purchase?”
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