Crimson Solitude
Title: Crimson Solitude
Author: Me
Genre: Angst, Smut, Selfcest
Rating: M for Mature
Warnings: Selfcest, Angst, Sex, a little powerplay
Summary: Shortly after the American Revolution, England receives a visit from his past. Contains England Selfcest. If you don't like, don't read.
England collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to remove his scarlet uniform. Never before had his house felt so empty. Never before had England felt so alone.
Hey, England...
To have companionship and then for it to be torn away was far more painful than to have never truly known it in the first place.
...I will choose liberty after all.
He was so alone. England felt the tears gathering in his eyes just from the memory.
I'm no longer your child, or your baby brother.
“What have we here?” a familiar voice asked, almost disdainfully. “Is this the mighty British Empire?”
England started, surprised by the intrusion into his home, his solitude. He turned to kick the man out of his house, but his gaze was met by himself.
There in the doorway to his bedroom stood England with a cocky smirk gracing his lips and a tricorne with a large feather gracing his head.
“This weeping pansy is what I become?” the double asked, laughing harshly, as he stepped into the room. “This is a disgrace to all that I've worked for.”
The England on the bed glared at the other. “What right,” he questioned, “do you have to judge me, pirate?”
The man simply laughed again. “What right do you have to judge me, lobsterback?” he responded, flinging an insult that he knew would cut deep even though it had come about after his time.
Acknowledge it!
“Don't call me that!” the first England exclaimed. “Don't you dare call me that!”
The pirate chuckled, his own crimson coat flowing as he sat on the bed beside himself. “The lad is rather clever sometimes, isn't he?”
“I don't want to talk about it,” the redcoat hissed.
The second England ignored him and continued. “It's amusing because lobsters don't become red, until they're dead. That's rather brilliant, actually,” he mused, smirking cruelly.
“I said I don't want to talk about it!” the soldier screamed as he slammed his double backwards onto the bed. “Don't mention him!”
Another chuckle left the other's lips. “You're a disgrace, England,” he taunted. “You've lost a war, so now you're going to cry about it? You're no better than a bloody wench.” The pirate flipped their positions so that he was straddling the other. He leaned his lips to the other's ear and whispered into it. “I'm going to enjoy using you like one.”
Something inside the redcoat seemed to snap. He roughly grabbed the pirate's shoulders and flipped them again. “No one,” he growled, “makes the British Empire their whore. No one!”
The pirate laughed as he tried to undo the other's white breeches. “Yes, England, yes. Show me that you deserve to be on top of the world and not between some upstart's legs. Prove that I, that we, that you can still rule the earth. Prove that the sun will never set on us!” he prompted gleefully.
Meanwhile, the redcoat acted almost as if possessed. He shoved the pirate's loose tunic up and managed to swiftly undo the pirate's own breeches, pushing them lower. Then he moved them, flipping the pirate so that he was on all fours.
England held his double in place with a firm hand on the other's cock as he used his other hand to slide his breeches and stockings out of the way. “Damn you,” he muttered as he blindly reached for the jar he kept near his bed for events like this one. “Damn you, damn him, and damn the world for all I care.”
The pirate's gloved hands gripped the bedding slightly as a now slick and glove-free finger entered him. He hissed quietly, obviously unused to being on the receiving end of things. “You say that,” he replied as another finger joined the first, “and yet you're not stopping.”
The redcoat made no response, he simply grunted before removing his fingers and placing the head of his cock at his double's entrance.
“Don't you dare think about backing out now!” the pirate threatened, but he need not have worried because less than a second after the last word left his mouth the redcoat had already entered him.
“Shut up!” the soldier ordered as he thrust abruptly into the other man. “I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth, scum.”
A chuckle half-escaped the pirate's mouth before turning into a moan. “Slut,” the redcoat taunted as he tried to maintain a facade of indifference.
The second England couldn't resist such an opening. “What does that make you?” he returned.
A resounding smack echoed through the room as the redcoat's palm connected harshly with his double's arse. “Don't speak,” he repeated gruffly.
“Does it feel good,” England asked breathlessly as they began to find a rhythm and work in tandem, “being the whore of the greatest living empire? Do you like being used, slut? Do you dare question me now?”
All the pirate offered as a response was a whimper of pleasure.
“That's what I thought,” England murmured.
They continued in near-silence until the pair climaxed at the same time. They both collapsed onto the bed, still almost entirely clothed and wearing their boots. The pirate was the first to pull away, rolling off the bed with the practice of a frequent drunk.
“Well,” he began, “I'd best be going. The tide waits for no man and neither does magic.” He began to lazily fix his clothing as he walked towards the door.
“Wait!” the redcoat exclaimed. “What was all that for if you're just going to leave me?”
The pirate chuckled. “Here's some advice that you should take to heart. People will come and people will go, but you don't need them. You're better than that.” And with that, he left.
England was once again all alone in his too-large, too-empty house. “Damn it all to hell,” he swore softly.
You used to be so big...
“Damn it.”
Author: Me
Genre: Angst, Smut, Selfcest
Rating: M for Mature
Warnings: Selfcest, Angst, Sex, a little powerplay
Summary: Shortly after the American Revolution, England receives a visit from his past. Contains England Selfcest. If you don't like, don't read.
England collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to remove his scarlet uniform. Never before had his house felt so empty. Never before had England felt so alone.
Hey, England...
To have companionship and then for it to be torn away was far more painful than to have never truly known it in the first place.
...I will choose liberty after all.
He was so alone. England felt the tears gathering in his eyes just from the memory.
I'm no longer your child, or your baby brother.
“What have we here?” a familiar voice asked, almost disdainfully. “Is this the mighty British Empire?”
England started, surprised by the intrusion into his home, his solitude. He turned to kick the man out of his house, but his gaze was met by himself.
There in the doorway to his bedroom stood England with a cocky smirk gracing his lips and a tricorne with a large feather gracing his head.
“This weeping pansy is what I become?” the double asked, laughing harshly, as he stepped into the room. “This is a disgrace to all that I've worked for.”
The England on the bed glared at the other. “What right,” he questioned, “do you have to judge me, pirate?”
The man simply laughed again. “What right do you have to judge me, lobsterback?” he responded, flinging an insult that he knew would cut deep even though it had come about after his time.
Acknowledge it!
“Don't call me that!” the first England exclaimed. “Don't you dare call me that!”
The pirate chuckled, his own crimson coat flowing as he sat on the bed beside himself. “The lad is rather clever sometimes, isn't he?”
“I don't want to talk about it,” the redcoat hissed.
The second England ignored him and continued. “It's amusing because lobsters don't become red, until they're dead. That's rather brilliant, actually,” he mused, smirking cruelly.
“I said I don't want to talk about it!” the soldier screamed as he slammed his double backwards onto the bed. “Don't mention him!”
Another chuckle left the other's lips. “You're a disgrace, England,” he taunted. “You've lost a war, so now you're going to cry about it? You're no better than a bloody wench.” The pirate flipped their positions so that he was straddling the other. He leaned his lips to the other's ear and whispered into it. “I'm going to enjoy using you like one.”
Something inside the redcoat seemed to snap. He roughly grabbed the pirate's shoulders and flipped them again. “No one,” he growled, “makes the British Empire their whore. No one!”
The pirate laughed as he tried to undo the other's white breeches. “Yes, England, yes. Show me that you deserve to be on top of the world and not between some upstart's legs. Prove that I, that we, that you can still rule the earth. Prove that the sun will never set on us!” he prompted gleefully.
Meanwhile, the redcoat acted almost as if possessed. He shoved the pirate's loose tunic up and managed to swiftly undo the pirate's own breeches, pushing them lower. Then he moved them, flipping the pirate so that he was on all fours.
England held his double in place with a firm hand on the other's cock as he used his other hand to slide his breeches and stockings out of the way. “Damn you,” he muttered as he blindly reached for the jar he kept near his bed for events like this one. “Damn you, damn him, and damn the world for all I care.”
The pirate's gloved hands gripped the bedding slightly as a now slick and glove-free finger entered him. He hissed quietly, obviously unused to being on the receiving end of things. “You say that,” he replied as another finger joined the first, “and yet you're not stopping.”
The redcoat made no response, he simply grunted before removing his fingers and placing the head of his cock at his double's entrance.
“Don't you dare think about backing out now!” the pirate threatened, but he need not have worried because less than a second after the last word left his mouth the redcoat had already entered him.
“Shut up!” the soldier ordered as he thrust abruptly into the other man. “I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth, scum.”
A chuckle half-escaped the pirate's mouth before turning into a moan. “Slut,” the redcoat taunted as he tried to maintain a facade of indifference.
The second England couldn't resist such an opening. “What does that make you?” he returned.
A resounding smack echoed through the room as the redcoat's palm connected harshly with his double's arse. “Don't speak,” he repeated gruffly.
“Does it feel good,” England asked breathlessly as they began to find a rhythm and work in tandem, “being the whore of the greatest living empire? Do you like being used, slut? Do you dare question me now?”
All the pirate offered as a response was a whimper of pleasure.
“That's what I thought,” England murmured.
They continued in near-silence until the pair climaxed at the same time. They both collapsed onto the bed, still almost entirely clothed and wearing their boots. The pirate was the first to pull away, rolling off the bed with the practice of a frequent drunk.
“Well,” he began, “I'd best be going. The tide waits for no man and neither does magic.” He began to lazily fix his clothing as he walked towards the door.
“Wait!” the redcoat exclaimed. “What was all that for if you're just going to leave me?”
The pirate chuckled. “Here's some advice that you should take to heart. People will come and people will go, but you don't need them. You're better than that.” And with that, he left.
England was once again all alone in his too-large, too-empty house. “Damn it all to hell,” he swore softly.
You used to be so big...
“Damn it.”