Completion
"Pairing:" UKUSJapan.
Rating/Warning: M for language and smut
Word Count: 5473
Summary: Japan, America, and England all love each other. They're all happy to be with either of their partners, but they're not really complete unless they're together. Request from kink meme for these three in a stable, poly relationship
A/n: The POV switches around, I hope you don't mind. The bars are to help you make sense of it all.
Japan loves America. He knows that he’s unbearably quiet in his affection, but he does have very strong feelings for him. Seventy years ago he wanted to see him dead. But now, as he watches him try to catch a goldfish in a paper net at the summer festival, he can’t imagine life without him. America is life. He is happiness. Even though he’s making faces since this is his fifth try, he still radiates an energy that doesn’t make Japan feel so old and alone anymore.
Yet, in spite of all that force, he can be so gentle when he wants to be, like when he’s rubbing the radiation scars (Japan knows that he feels terrible about them, but all has been forgiven. He was mad. He needed to be stopped, or he would have killed them all. Not that it was truly America’s fault in the first place. He himself was as shocked as everyone else when it happened), or when they’re in bed together.
America is also one of the few people that Japan is willing to sleep with in the metaphorical sense. He’s had several partners throughout history, but America was the one to take his virginity. Even when he started his relationship with England they only kissed softly (well, kissed and flogged each other, but that was a story for a different day). America had been the one to convince him to try, after months and months of sharing a bed.
Japan does like it, but he knows that it’s not the same way that America and England enjoy it. He doesn’t have that burning need. His stomach doesn’t tighten and he doesn’t become aroused easily. However, he loves to treat his lovers. It makes him satisfied to know that he’s pleased those that mean the most to him. Whenever America is writhing beneath him or clutching him tightly and moaning his name it makes him feel happier than anything. He comes most of the time, but that’s not as important as holding an exhausted but exuberant America, so spent and beautiful.
There are still many nights when he knows he won’t be able to perform or simply doesn’t wish to. America used to look a bit disappointed before accepting it, but now he doesn’t even do that. He simply smiles and says, “That’s fine. How about some hot coca and a movie?” (Japan thinks that it’s directly tied to how often he gets to see him. It’s easier to fly, and he’s well aware that America has started to accumulate stacks of pictures taken on the rare nights that Japan was willing and America decided he wanted something to remember it by. As though he could ever forget.)
He can never deny giving America something each night, whether it’s sex or sitting in their pajamas and watching some terrible horror movie that still terrifies America. It’s the way that Japan can show his love when his stoicism tries to break them apart.
America really, really, really likes England. He’s always really liked England. When he was a little kid he always used to think that there was nothing more beautiful than those big green eyes and long, dexterous fingers. He’s still of that opinion, even though the context has changed (and it’s been joined by raven hair and a still, serene smile for top rank).
He thinks it’s because England gets him in a way that no one else does. It’s not a bond from England raising him or anything (because, let’s be honest, England just showed up now and then to give him stuff and hang out for a while between doing work). No, there’s just something fundamentally similar about them, something deep in their essence that will hold them together through anything. They’ve both tried to break it severally, but they just end up together again. It must be meant to be. America loves thinking like that, even if he won’t admit it out loud.
It’s all games with him and England. They make fun of each other’s accents and spelling and hobbies and stupid stuff like that, but only so that their love doesn’t grow dull. It’s still sharp and fresh, even after seventy years of a relationship and two hundred of wanting. There’s always laughter, at least from America. England likes to glare and huff, but he always has to shut his eyes so that no one can see the way that they gleam with happiness (like that could stop his adorable eyebrows from showing every thought that crossed his mind).
It probably helps that the sex is great. America has no idea where he learned all of those tricks, and he’s not sure he wants to. America can’t even keep track of all the things England does (mostly because they can all be summed up by “he moved (insert body part here) in some way and I came so fucking hard.”), but he doesn’t really care. Besides, England is a goddamn bombshell sex-kitten (who would murder him if he knew he was talking about him like that). America has tapes (yeah, some of them are real tapes. The first one is actually from the sixties) of England doing all sorts of naughty things just so that America could watch the video again and again and again (he’d had some of them remastered. The awkwardness was so worth it, especially since now it’s in glorious hi-def on his computer). He’ll never admit it, but his favorite part isn’t the actual porn part. It’s always when England looks at the camera, smiles, and says, “Oh, America, this is all for you, darling.” All for him. Every pose, every expression, every moan. It’s only after he’s finished and the screen cuts to black when he realizes that he can’t tell if he feels closer to England or further away. He usually calls or texts him right afterward and then he’s just in love again.
Although, there are some downsides to having such a passionate lover. Let’s just say that England is awfully... creative in the bedroom, and America is a man of simple tastes. He goes along with it sometimes. He doesn’t like to hurt England, but he understands that if the pain is applied in a controlled setting, it doesn’t actually hurt like he imagines it to. Now and then he’ll even be willing to allow England to scream at him, scold him and put him down. He’ll whimper and whine, acting to make England happy. Besides, even if he doesn’t like that part, sometimes it’s nice to be fucked a bit more roughly and it’s always nice to have England smooth his hair and kiss his neck and tell him that he’s beautiful and perfect and brave afterwards. If he can keep his head on his shoulders during their scenes he can go out feeling better than he came in sometimes.
His favorite thing, though, is the kissing. He’s sure that England could fold a paper crane with his tongue and he usually uses that to his full advantage. Sometimes he doesn’t though. Sometimes they just share breath and only occasionally stroke each other’s tongues. America can’t tell which kisses he likes more.
England has an understanding with Japan. They’re both similar but different, akin to twins separated at birth. They’re strong-willed and practical, conducting themselves with dignity. It helps that they’re both islands that love tea, a bit of the mystical, and a certain idiotic American.
But more than those superficial traits, there’s one bond that really brings them together. Japan is in the same position as England is: They’re both men who lived too fast, going from savages to kings in a few hundred years, quickly surpassing all those around them, but then they crashed. Both of them are vestigial empires, most likely past their greatest days. He knows that it hurts Japan as badly as it does him to watch America, knowing that it’s only a matter of time until he’s like them.
They’re not dead, though. Nowhere near it. Their economies may be bad at the moment, but they’re still fairly wealthy and influential. They’ve learned to hide it, though. It’s easier to be quiet, pretending to sulk and remember the days when they claimed whole oceans. They’re trying to keep their heads down and out of trouble, because both understand that they’re not truly immortal. It’s only when they’re together, away from the rest of the world that they let their true power show.
Yes, America can coax their vitality out of them too, but he’s like the sun on snow. It’s a slow process to melt everything away and show all of the life hidden below and then it’s easy for it to be covered again.
His and Japan’s love, in contrast, is a volcano. Normally it’s simply there: quiet, barely noticed, and beautiful in its still way. But then, all of a sudden, there is noise and burning and undeniable action. That’s the way that a couple of young-looking men who seem to dress much older than they are and sip tea all day turn into a pair of devils on certain nights.
There’s pain then. There’s ripping and biting and shoving and it burns in the best way possible. England loves every bloody moment of it. It’s the ultimate release, peeling away everything that makes him and Japan human, reducing them to their basest forms: two beasts each trying to prove that they’re the true Alpha. It’s a side of himself that he’s not entirely proud of but doesn’t dare destroy. Only a man can sacrifice himself or grow tired of life. That beast is what lets him continue to live and love. It’s his true core that he can only show to a select few.
He’s most comfortable with Japan because he understands. England hopes that someday America will learn and join in their fun. However, at the moment he’s content to make it his and Japan’s special bond. Equals or not, he knows that they all have things they prefer not to share, and they all of things they like to do with one of their partners while the other isn’t around. He’s not sure what Japan and America share, but he and America have their all-day sex marathons (they will break to shower, or swim if they’re at America’s house, or sometimes watch porn together, or eat the most dripping, erotic foods they can come up with, but then they’re right back at it) and he and Japan have this. They have the whips and the canes and the hot wax, then Japan sits him down on his usually-sore arse and strokes him to completion. Then they have their shower and Japan kisses him sweet and slow, as though one of them hadn’t just inflicted all sorts of wounds upon the other. They go to bed then, maybe kiss chastely once or twice, and then fall asleep back-to-back as often as in each other’s arms.
When they wake in the morning, there’s nothing to show that it happened. All of the toys are safely put away in Japan’s closet or under England’s bed, England puts on a button-up and sweater vest while Japan dons his old, loved kimono. They spend their days quietly, staying home and simply enjoying the domesticity of it, now and then going to the theater or a museum.
Usually they just go to bed that night. After all, the dust needs time to settle.
It was a rare for all three of them to be together, and it was time that shouldn't be wasted. From the moment they'd started to wake up in a messy pile of limbs in America's huge bed, they'd spent the entire day together. The TV was on, but really it was background noise, something so that they could claim that they didn't spend the entire day sharing soft words, quick kisses, and fleeting touches. When it came time for meals, they cooked together, each keeping an eye on the other two to stop them from doing anything too terrible (with some quick thinking, America managed to save England's scones. Even they were edible in the end).
After dinner they sat around the table, all feeling too lazy to move, until America caught Japan's eye.
He smiled and nodded, letting America know he was still willing.
America beamed. This was gonna be sweet! "Hey, England," He said, standing, "D'ya mind doing the dishes?"
England scowled, "Idiot, most of them are yours. I thought we agreed that we'd split the work." Just because it was his bloody house didn't mean he got to skip out on the chores!
"Yeah, but I got other stuff to do."
"Like what?" England demanded
"If you do not mind," Japan said, also standing, "America and I do have to do a bit of cleaning ourselves, as it were. It might be enough to force us to change into something easier to move in."
"It's more comfortable." America said, being totally helpful.
"Oh, well, erm…" America would have been happy to stand and look at England's adorable blush, but then Japan ruined everything.
"I was trying to be a bit more subtle, America."
"Yeah, well, I'm tryin' to get us out of here." He shrugged and walked away, "See ya soon, England," He said over his shoulder.
Japan simply followed him. He wanted to speak up and tell him that the wink and swagger were unnecessary, but his politeness prevented him from doing so. America must have burst into a run once he was out of sight, because by the time Japan caught up with him, he was in the bathroom, just finishing setting up the second enema. Once he was satisfied with his work he took a step back.
He jumped when he heard the door close. Holy hell, when did Japan get there? The guy was so quiet… whatever, didn't matter. He smiled and walked over to place his hands on his waist and kiss him.
"Alright then, take off your clothes and get in the tub."
Japan sighed, "Must you always be so forward?"
America laughed, "Hey, between you and England somebody's gotta just up and say stuff around here."
"I suppose that is a valid point," Japan said, beginning to carefully remove his kimono.
America's over-sized tee shirt and too-big sweatpants, on the other hand, were on the floor within five seconds. "Come on," he said when he noticed Japan was nowhere near naked, "why're you taking so long?"
"You must learn to cherish things, America," he said, smiling softly.
"There are two paths in life," America slid his boxers down, "you can use people and love things, or love people and use things."
"So where did you steal that saying from?"
"Hey, and you're telling me to stop being so forward?"
"I never said stop." Finally, Japan finished undressing, folded his kimono and placed it on the counter.
"Ready now?" America said, holding the first of the enemas.
"You are quite eager," Japan said, easing his way down into the tub.
"Can you blame me?"
"No, I don't believe I can."
And with that he closed his eyes and tried to relax as America cleaned him. He would admit that the lukewarm solution felt rather nice (how America got it warm he would never know) but it always was just so strange in the beginning. But, just like every other situation, America helped him, using his free hand to pet Japan's sides and stroke his face. By focusing on his words instead of the sensation of being filled, it was over quickly.
When it was America's turn, he reveled in it. There was promise in it, the promise that instead of cold, unfeeling plastic he'd have a real person behind him for the first time in way too long. He normally didn't like having to wait. He'd just skip this part and go right to fucking nine times out of ten. But this was the first time in years they'd all been together. He'd wanted it to be special.
Besides, he liked the way that Japan was treating him, being nicer and gentler than he would normally allow. It was okay with him. He wasn't making fun of him with it.
"So are we waiting for England, or do you wanna go to the bedroom and get warmed up?" America asked once they were done.
A few decades ago, Japan would have floundered at that. He would have turned bright red and sputtered about how it was inappropriate. Instead, he just smiled and said, "The latter would be nice, I think."
America tipped his head to the side and kissed him. Gently, he reminded himself, always start gently with Japan. He had to sit and wait for Japan to be ready. He felt a surge of sympathy for dogs that had to balance treats on their noses.
Japan came closer. He pressed his hands against America's chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath his fingers. He sighed into the kiss. He was so warm, so sturdy… America wrapped his arms around him, enveloping him more deeply in that warmth. The more rational, more prudish part of his mind was quickly washed over by greed. He licked America's lower lip, demanding more contact, deeper contact.
America quickly obeyed, but unfortunately he seemed to misunderstand Japan's desire. He had forced his way into Japan's mouth, ravaging him like a beast. If Japan were a lesser man he would have growled. America was supposed to wait submissively in his own mouth and allowed Japan to feel him at his own pace.
Japan had to correct America's mistake. However, America pushing him back and tangling with him whenever he tried to get through was a problem.
"Wow," America said, pulling away and smiling, "You're really into it tonight!"
He didn't quite have the heart to say anything after that.
America kissed him again, just a light brush of lips before he pulled away and said, "Let's go to bed."
"Already?"
"I wanna see the look on England's face when he comes in to find us naked and on top of each other." He snickered childishly, adorably, evilly.
"That's not very nice," Japan said, barely holding back a smile.
"No, but it's hot. Come on, let's do it!"
Japan sighed, "I suppose we may as well."
"Yay!" Japan couldn't help but smile as America dragged him off to the bedroom. He brought him over to the bed and eased him down. "You okay, there, honey? Not feeling grossed out or violated or anything?"
"I'm rather enjoying this, actually," He said, loving the way that the shadows played over America's face.
"Well then I'm not doing it right." America climbed over him and practically devoured his mouth, using gravity to his advantage.
No true Japanese man would allow himself to be conquered in such a way, so he fought back, not only with his mouth, but by wrapping his arms around America to massage his behind.
America grunted and lowered himself, freeing his hands to tease Japan's sides again. He was stifling now. Mentally Japan was torn between wanting to flee and wanting to embrace it. But then his body took control, reacting naturally to the attention.
Then America pulled away and giggled in a way that wasn't quite appropriate for the situation, "Aren't I supposed to be the sensitive one?"
Japan glared at him. Maybe later he'd admit to the fact that he hadn't had any sort of physical affection since the last time they'd been together. For now he had his dignity to maintain. He tangled his fingers in America's hair and forced him back down, finally gaining access to his mouth. Before he had a chance to truly enjoy it, though, America was fighting back. He wondered if this was what America felt like before.
America was totally about to win when Japan, cheating bastard, started fingering him. America moaned. That wasn't fair! His ass was protected by blankets!
Oh, forget it. What did the fighting matter anymore? Japan's fingers were cold, but they were real, something living finally filling him. He allowed himself to lay there and moan, only occasionally pressing his tongue against Japan's. He knew he was hard and Japan was only about half way there but, much like the fighting, what did it matter?
Then he heard the door close and pulled away to look. England's expression was so worth it.
Those wankers! What did they think they were doing, starting without him? He knew it was coming too. America was untrustworthy and Japan was perfectly happy to go along with any of his half-brained schemes. Sometimes he wondered why he allowed himself to stay with those idiots.
Then Japan slid a finger into America.
Ah yes, that was right.
Starting to feel warm, he stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. America's head snapped up and he grinned, "Hey, baby, we've- Ah! Japan, I'm trying to talk- we've been waiting for you."
"Not too patiently, I see," England said, scowling.
"Hey, if you're bottoming it takes more work. It's not like we can just whip out are dicks and start."
"You shouldn't do that anyway, it's terrible form." England approached, removing his clothes on the way.
America rolled his eyes, "Only you would talk about form during sex."
"That's because unlike you I'm a half-way decent lover."
"Hey!"
"Now get off of Japan. Your fat arse is crushing him." He shoved America away and crawled on top of Japan.
England ignored the cry of "I'm not fat!" In favor of leaning down to kiss Japan's cheek.
"Did this idiot do anything too terrible while I was gone?"
"Actually, he was surprisingly well behaved."
"Hey, I'm still here!"
"Was he good enough to deserve a reward?"
"I think giving him a show first would be adequate."
England looked over at America and smirked, "Alright then, you can watch but if you touch - that includes yourself - I don't know what we'll do."
Once America had scooted back far enough and crossed his legs, England turned back to Japan and smiled.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He whispered, running his fingers through Japan's hair.
"Don't worry about that," Japan replied, returning the gesture, "We're together now."
England leaned down to kiss him. It was slow, but in no way dispassionate. It wasn't a war like America's kiss had been, it was more like a reintroduction, gentle presses and caresses that were simply to let them feel each other on a more intimate level. England wrapped his arms around Japan.
It wasn't fair, America decided as he gripped the sheets. England knew how sexy it was when he and Japan made out. They would have been natural porn stars, knowing just how much to show to their audience to make them need to be a part of it. Occasionally he could see their tongues, or England would roll himself up and let him see their chests. And their small, lean bodies rolled and moved together and God, he needed to do something.
You know what, fuck England. He wrapped his hand around his cock. England had designed it for him to fail anyway, or the 'reward' would be the same as the 'punishment.' He followed their movements with his eyes and his hand went at the same pace. He didn't need much, just something, and this was something enough.
For a while it was fine. He got to actually enjoy his show with some of the pressure taken off. But then he moaned. Quickly, he pulled his hand away but not fast enough for them not to notice.
England smirked. "Oh, you naughty, dirty boy."
Oh god, that was enough to make him start going again, but before he could decide if it was worth it, England guided him down onto the bed.
America closed his eyes and opened his mouth, expecting a kiss. Instead, England bit the base of his neck.
"Wait- wha-?"
England didn't let go to answer him. He just sucked harder. It felt- pretty good actually. America threw his head back and panted.
He was so beautiful like that, England mused as he looked up at America. It was so odd to see him so passive, a rare treat that he didn't want to waste. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table and covered his fingers with it. He then threw it somewhere on the bed for later. He wasn't too concerned about it at the moment. He was concerned about nudging America's legs open and easing one finger inside.
America moaned and held him closer, bucking down to get more.
"You're so loose, America," England said, "You practice, don't you? You love this feeling."
"Mmm- Is this really the time to tease me for something like that?" America asked, looking down at him with one eye open.
"Tell me," England insisted, bringing a second finger to tease America without actually going in, "Do you do this to yourself when you think about us?" He moved his finger just so that it would rub America's prostate.
"S-sometimes," He admitted.
"That's good," he said, "I thought I was the only one."
The aroused look on America's face was heavenly.
Japan didn't know what to feel as he watched the other two touch. He should have been aroused. After all, he'd had sex with both of them before, often at the same time, often with similar kisses and touches happening around him. This was different, though, they felt so far away, so detached…
Was this what it was like for them when the other was with him?
Probably not, if America had felt so alone he would have made a fuss. Besides, America had told him that he took pleasure just from watching. But for him…
Japan saw the bottle on the blanket, still open. He picked it up and coated his fingers. Maybe if he touched himself too…
He eased one finger inside. It didn't feel quite as good, but this way he could pretend America was doing it instead. He tried for a second, searching for the spot that only one of his lovers was able to find. Maybe if he used a third to try to cover more ground… He let out a frustrated noise. Why-?
"Honey, you okay?"
Japan looked up to see both America and England looking at him concernedly. Japan blushed and looked away. Why had he let them see?
America looked at England, and made a gesture telling him to get off. He got up on his knees so that America could get away and crawl over Japan. He leaned down and nuzzled him, guiding his hand out.
"Sorry, you know how we get."
England came next and placed a hand gently on Japan's arm, "Would you mind if we joined you, then?"
Japan looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, "Join me?"
"Yeah," America said, knowing where England was going, "So, who do you want?"
"I'd rather not choose."
America felt himself flush, "Hey, we're not going anywhere. I meant who do you want where?"
"I think I like you here," Japan said, wrapping his arms around America for emphasis.
"So that puts me up here, then?" England asked lightly pushing America's back, basically telling him to lie down.
"You were always going to be there," Japan said, "America and I were uncertain of who would be in the middle, though."
"There was a question?" England asked, climbing on America's back, "I thought America would have just claimed it like the greedy bastard he is."
"Kiss my ass," America said as he leaned down to nibble at Japan's collarbone.
"Sorry, I have other plans for it."
"You know, you're kind of a bitch whenever you top…" America muttered, spreading Japan's legs and covering his cock in lube.
"What was that?"
"Love you too, baby," America said, smiling and handing the bottle back to him.
Japan laughed quietly.
"You ready?" America asked, turning his smile on him.
"I think so." He leaned up and kissed America.
America let them kiss for a few moments, nice and slow to make sure he was still with them.
England rubbed his thumbs in circles over America's hips. They were so beautiful like this…
"Yeah, baby?" America asked, breaking his kiss to look up at him.
"N-Nothing," England said, blushing and looking away, "I just like doing this is all."
America laughed, "That's fine. I like you doing it too."
They both… they looked so bloody happy, looking so happy at him.
"America, are you ready?"
"Huh?"
He kissed the back of America's neck, hoping his words would be muffled, "I need you."
"Well, if you need me, go ahead, baby. I guess you're gonna have to wait a little while, honey," He said, nuzzling Japan.
England normally would have rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. He lined himself up and pushed into America.
Oh, this, this… He'd almost forgotten how good it was. America was so snug, so warm around him. He knew he was breathing heavily on America's ear, but he didn't seem to mind, judging from the way he was panting.
There was something on the small of his back. Oh, that was Japan, wasn't it? How did he manage to get his legs around them both?
"I'm holding both of your weights. Please do not forget about me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," England said, craning down over America's shoulder to kiss him.
"Sorry, hun," America said, "England's distracting."
England knew America was in then, because he shuddered and tightened beautifully.
"Please," England said, "Let me move."
"J-Japan? If he moves I'm gonna move. Are you- is that-?"
Japan just nodded and wrapped his arms around America's back.
England set his chin on America's shoulder and finally, thank God finally, started moving. They went slowly at first, passing kisses around freely. America met him at each thrust, pulling back just when England came forward. They kept going faster, just faster and faster. Damn America, there was never enough for him, was there?
England was slow. Normally it was cool. America was totally fine with the lovey-dovey sex most of the time. But when you have a guy on each end for the first time in months lovey-dovey isn't a real option. He had to move, had to have them both. Japan, England, Japan, England, It was too much, too damn much. He had to go faster, so he did. Bit by bit, thrust by thrust, he sped up, making England follow. He was lying down and fucking Japan, having England lie down and fuck him. He wanted to melt, wanted to turn into mush and be stuck between them forever, not move, not peel apart.
America and England were so lovely like that, completely lost to passion. Japan was holding on, but barely. He'd actually get to come this time. He couldn't focus on the two faces in front of his. They were just too close. He kept kissing each in turn, going back and forth, sometimes breaking to bite a neck or jaw. It was hard to tell them apart. All he could see were blurs of pink and yellow. Of course, whenever he actually touched more than their lips he knew, but other than that…
With a jolt he realized that it didn't matter.
Not much longer, England thought. America was moving just right. He pulled away just far enough to get a good look at them, America and Japan both bright red. They more panted than kissed. England reached down to touch Japan. He traced his side, his chest, his neck. His movements were slow, but Japan sensed his urgency. He looked up, his eyes clear. England leaned down to kiss him properly. America was left out though, wasn't he? He turned his head slightly and brought America in for an awkward three-way kiss. Ending it like that was the best he could do.
What? They were kissing now? That was nice. So good… Yeah the kiss, but he-
Japan was happy.
Rating/Warning: M for language and smut
Word Count: 5473
Summary: Japan, America, and England all love each other. They're all happy to be with either of their partners, but they're not really complete unless they're together. Request from kink meme for these three in a stable, poly relationship
A/n: The POV switches around, I hope you don't mind. The bars are to help you make sense of it all.
Japan loves America. He knows that he’s unbearably quiet in his affection, but he does have very strong feelings for him. Seventy years ago he wanted to see him dead. But now, as he watches him try to catch a goldfish in a paper net at the summer festival, he can’t imagine life without him. America is life. He is happiness. Even though he’s making faces since this is his fifth try, he still radiates an energy that doesn’t make Japan feel so old and alone anymore.
Yet, in spite of all that force, he can be so gentle when he wants to be, like when he’s rubbing the radiation scars (Japan knows that he feels terrible about them, but all has been forgiven. He was mad. He needed to be stopped, or he would have killed them all. Not that it was truly America’s fault in the first place. He himself was as shocked as everyone else when it happened), or when they’re in bed together.
America is also one of the few people that Japan is willing to sleep with in the metaphorical sense. He’s had several partners throughout history, but America was the one to take his virginity. Even when he started his relationship with England they only kissed softly (well, kissed and flogged each other, but that was a story for a different day). America had been the one to convince him to try, after months and months of sharing a bed.
Japan does like it, but he knows that it’s not the same way that America and England enjoy it. He doesn’t have that burning need. His stomach doesn’t tighten and he doesn’t become aroused easily. However, he loves to treat his lovers. It makes him satisfied to know that he’s pleased those that mean the most to him. Whenever America is writhing beneath him or clutching him tightly and moaning his name it makes him feel happier than anything. He comes most of the time, but that’s not as important as holding an exhausted but exuberant America, so spent and beautiful.
There are still many nights when he knows he won’t be able to perform or simply doesn’t wish to. America used to look a bit disappointed before accepting it, but now he doesn’t even do that. He simply smiles and says, “That’s fine. How about some hot coca and a movie?” (Japan thinks that it’s directly tied to how often he gets to see him. It’s easier to fly, and he’s well aware that America has started to accumulate stacks of pictures taken on the rare nights that Japan was willing and America decided he wanted something to remember it by. As though he could ever forget.)
He can never deny giving America something each night, whether it’s sex or sitting in their pajamas and watching some terrible horror movie that still terrifies America. It’s the way that Japan can show his love when his stoicism tries to break them apart.
America really, really, really likes England. He’s always really liked England. When he was a little kid he always used to think that there was nothing more beautiful than those big green eyes and long, dexterous fingers. He’s still of that opinion, even though the context has changed (and it’s been joined by raven hair and a still, serene smile for top rank).
He thinks it’s because England gets him in a way that no one else does. It’s not a bond from England raising him or anything (because, let’s be honest, England just showed up now and then to give him stuff and hang out for a while between doing work). No, there’s just something fundamentally similar about them, something deep in their essence that will hold them together through anything. They’ve both tried to break it severally, but they just end up together again. It must be meant to be. America loves thinking like that, even if he won’t admit it out loud.
It’s all games with him and England. They make fun of each other’s accents and spelling and hobbies and stupid stuff like that, but only so that their love doesn’t grow dull. It’s still sharp and fresh, even after seventy years of a relationship and two hundred of wanting. There’s always laughter, at least from America. England likes to glare and huff, but he always has to shut his eyes so that no one can see the way that they gleam with happiness (like that could stop his adorable eyebrows from showing every thought that crossed his mind).
It probably helps that the sex is great. America has no idea where he learned all of those tricks, and he’s not sure he wants to. America can’t even keep track of all the things England does (mostly because they can all be summed up by “he moved (insert body part here) in some way and I came so fucking hard.”), but he doesn’t really care. Besides, England is a goddamn bombshell sex-kitten (who would murder him if he knew he was talking about him like that). America has tapes (yeah, some of them are real tapes. The first one is actually from the sixties) of England doing all sorts of naughty things just so that America could watch the video again and again and again (he’d had some of them remastered. The awkwardness was so worth it, especially since now it’s in glorious hi-def on his computer). He’ll never admit it, but his favorite part isn’t the actual porn part. It’s always when England looks at the camera, smiles, and says, “Oh, America, this is all for you, darling.” All for him. Every pose, every expression, every moan. It’s only after he’s finished and the screen cuts to black when he realizes that he can’t tell if he feels closer to England or further away. He usually calls or texts him right afterward and then he’s just in love again.
Although, there are some downsides to having such a passionate lover. Let’s just say that England is awfully... creative in the bedroom, and America is a man of simple tastes. He goes along with it sometimes. He doesn’t like to hurt England, but he understands that if the pain is applied in a controlled setting, it doesn’t actually hurt like he imagines it to. Now and then he’ll even be willing to allow England to scream at him, scold him and put him down. He’ll whimper and whine, acting to make England happy. Besides, even if he doesn’t like that part, sometimes it’s nice to be fucked a bit more roughly and it’s always nice to have England smooth his hair and kiss his neck and tell him that he’s beautiful and perfect and brave afterwards. If he can keep his head on his shoulders during their scenes he can go out feeling better than he came in sometimes.
His favorite thing, though, is the kissing. He’s sure that England could fold a paper crane with his tongue and he usually uses that to his full advantage. Sometimes he doesn’t though. Sometimes they just share breath and only occasionally stroke each other’s tongues. America can’t tell which kisses he likes more.
England has an understanding with Japan. They’re both similar but different, akin to twins separated at birth. They’re strong-willed and practical, conducting themselves with dignity. It helps that they’re both islands that love tea, a bit of the mystical, and a certain idiotic American.
But more than those superficial traits, there’s one bond that really brings them together. Japan is in the same position as England is: They’re both men who lived too fast, going from savages to kings in a few hundred years, quickly surpassing all those around them, but then they crashed. Both of them are vestigial empires, most likely past their greatest days. He knows that it hurts Japan as badly as it does him to watch America, knowing that it’s only a matter of time until he’s like them.
They’re not dead, though. Nowhere near it. Their economies may be bad at the moment, but they’re still fairly wealthy and influential. They’ve learned to hide it, though. It’s easier to be quiet, pretending to sulk and remember the days when they claimed whole oceans. They’re trying to keep their heads down and out of trouble, because both understand that they’re not truly immortal. It’s only when they’re together, away from the rest of the world that they let their true power show.
Yes, America can coax their vitality out of them too, but he’s like the sun on snow. It’s a slow process to melt everything away and show all of the life hidden below and then it’s easy for it to be covered again.
His and Japan’s love, in contrast, is a volcano. Normally it’s simply there: quiet, barely noticed, and beautiful in its still way. But then, all of a sudden, there is noise and burning and undeniable action. That’s the way that a couple of young-looking men who seem to dress much older than they are and sip tea all day turn into a pair of devils on certain nights.
There’s pain then. There’s ripping and biting and shoving and it burns in the best way possible. England loves every bloody moment of it. It’s the ultimate release, peeling away everything that makes him and Japan human, reducing them to their basest forms: two beasts each trying to prove that they’re the true Alpha. It’s a side of himself that he’s not entirely proud of but doesn’t dare destroy. Only a man can sacrifice himself or grow tired of life. That beast is what lets him continue to live and love. It’s his true core that he can only show to a select few.
He’s most comfortable with Japan because he understands. England hopes that someday America will learn and join in their fun. However, at the moment he’s content to make it his and Japan’s special bond. Equals or not, he knows that they all have things they prefer not to share, and they all of things they like to do with one of their partners while the other isn’t around. He’s not sure what Japan and America share, but he and America have their all-day sex marathons (they will break to shower, or swim if they’re at America’s house, or sometimes watch porn together, or eat the most dripping, erotic foods they can come up with, but then they’re right back at it) and he and Japan have this. They have the whips and the canes and the hot wax, then Japan sits him down on his usually-sore arse and strokes him to completion. Then they have their shower and Japan kisses him sweet and slow, as though one of them hadn’t just inflicted all sorts of wounds upon the other. They go to bed then, maybe kiss chastely once or twice, and then fall asleep back-to-back as often as in each other’s arms.
When they wake in the morning, there’s nothing to show that it happened. All of the toys are safely put away in Japan’s closet or under England’s bed, England puts on a button-up and sweater vest while Japan dons his old, loved kimono. They spend their days quietly, staying home and simply enjoying the domesticity of it, now and then going to the theater or a museum.
Usually they just go to bed that night. After all, the dust needs time to settle.
It was a rare for all three of them to be together, and it was time that shouldn't be wasted. From the moment they'd started to wake up in a messy pile of limbs in America's huge bed, they'd spent the entire day together. The TV was on, but really it was background noise, something so that they could claim that they didn't spend the entire day sharing soft words, quick kisses, and fleeting touches. When it came time for meals, they cooked together, each keeping an eye on the other two to stop them from doing anything too terrible (with some quick thinking, America managed to save England's scones. Even they were edible in the end).
After dinner they sat around the table, all feeling too lazy to move, until America caught Japan's eye.
He smiled and nodded, letting America know he was still willing.
America beamed. This was gonna be sweet! "Hey, England," He said, standing, "D'ya mind doing the dishes?"
England scowled, "Idiot, most of them are yours. I thought we agreed that we'd split the work." Just because it was his bloody house didn't mean he got to skip out on the chores!
"Yeah, but I got other stuff to do."
"Like what?" England demanded
"If you do not mind," Japan said, also standing, "America and I do have to do a bit of cleaning ourselves, as it were. It might be enough to force us to change into something easier to move in."
"It's more comfortable." America said, being totally helpful.
"Oh, well, erm…" America would have been happy to stand and look at England's adorable blush, but then Japan ruined everything.
"I was trying to be a bit more subtle, America."
"Yeah, well, I'm tryin' to get us out of here." He shrugged and walked away, "See ya soon, England," He said over his shoulder.
Japan simply followed him. He wanted to speak up and tell him that the wink and swagger were unnecessary, but his politeness prevented him from doing so. America must have burst into a run once he was out of sight, because by the time Japan caught up with him, he was in the bathroom, just finishing setting up the second enema. Once he was satisfied with his work he took a step back.
He jumped when he heard the door close. Holy hell, when did Japan get there? The guy was so quiet… whatever, didn't matter. He smiled and walked over to place his hands on his waist and kiss him.
"Alright then, take off your clothes and get in the tub."
Japan sighed, "Must you always be so forward?"
America laughed, "Hey, between you and England somebody's gotta just up and say stuff around here."
"I suppose that is a valid point," Japan said, beginning to carefully remove his kimono.
America's over-sized tee shirt and too-big sweatpants, on the other hand, were on the floor within five seconds. "Come on," he said when he noticed Japan was nowhere near naked, "why're you taking so long?"
"You must learn to cherish things, America," he said, smiling softly.
"There are two paths in life," America slid his boxers down, "you can use people and love things, or love people and use things."
"So where did you steal that saying from?"
"Hey, and you're telling me to stop being so forward?"
"I never said stop." Finally, Japan finished undressing, folded his kimono and placed it on the counter.
"Ready now?" America said, holding the first of the enemas.
"You are quite eager," Japan said, easing his way down into the tub.
"Can you blame me?"
"No, I don't believe I can."
And with that he closed his eyes and tried to relax as America cleaned him. He would admit that the lukewarm solution felt rather nice (how America got it warm he would never know) but it always was just so strange in the beginning. But, just like every other situation, America helped him, using his free hand to pet Japan's sides and stroke his face. By focusing on his words instead of the sensation of being filled, it was over quickly.
When it was America's turn, he reveled in it. There was promise in it, the promise that instead of cold, unfeeling plastic he'd have a real person behind him for the first time in way too long. He normally didn't like having to wait. He'd just skip this part and go right to fucking nine times out of ten. But this was the first time in years they'd all been together. He'd wanted it to be special.
Besides, he liked the way that Japan was treating him, being nicer and gentler than he would normally allow. It was okay with him. He wasn't making fun of him with it.
"So are we waiting for England, or do you wanna go to the bedroom and get warmed up?" America asked once they were done.
A few decades ago, Japan would have floundered at that. He would have turned bright red and sputtered about how it was inappropriate. Instead, he just smiled and said, "The latter would be nice, I think."
America tipped his head to the side and kissed him. Gently, he reminded himself, always start gently with Japan. He had to sit and wait for Japan to be ready. He felt a surge of sympathy for dogs that had to balance treats on their noses.
Japan came closer. He pressed his hands against America's chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath his fingers. He sighed into the kiss. He was so warm, so sturdy… America wrapped his arms around him, enveloping him more deeply in that warmth. The more rational, more prudish part of his mind was quickly washed over by greed. He licked America's lower lip, demanding more contact, deeper contact.
America quickly obeyed, but unfortunately he seemed to misunderstand Japan's desire. He had forced his way into Japan's mouth, ravaging him like a beast. If Japan were a lesser man he would have growled. America was supposed to wait submissively in his own mouth and allowed Japan to feel him at his own pace.
Japan had to correct America's mistake. However, America pushing him back and tangling with him whenever he tried to get through was a problem.
"Wow," America said, pulling away and smiling, "You're really into it tonight!"
He didn't quite have the heart to say anything after that.
America kissed him again, just a light brush of lips before he pulled away and said, "Let's go to bed."
"Already?"
"I wanna see the look on England's face when he comes in to find us naked and on top of each other." He snickered childishly, adorably, evilly.
"That's not very nice," Japan said, barely holding back a smile.
"No, but it's hot. Come on, let's do it!"
Japan sighed, "I suppose we may as well."
"Yay!" Japan couldn't help but smile as America dragged him off to the bedroom. He brought him over to the bed and eased him down. "You okay, there, honey? Not feeling grossed out or violated or anything?"
"I'm rather enjoying this, actually," He said, loving the way that the shadows played over America's face.
"Well then I'm not doing it right." America climbed over him and practically devoured his mouth, using gravity to his advantage.
No true Japanese man would allow himself to be conquered in such a way, so he fought back, not only with his mouth, but by wrapping his arms around America to massage his behind.
America grunted and lowered himself, freeing his hands to tease Japan's sides again. He was stifling now. Mentally Japan was torn between wanting to flee and wanting to embrace it. But then his body took control, reacting naturally to the attention.
Then America pulled away and giggled in a way that wasn't quite appropriate for the situation, "Aren't I supposed to be the sensitive one?"
Japan glared at him. Maybe later he'd admit to the fact that he hadn't had any sort of physical affection since the last time they'd been together. For now he had his dignity to maintain. He tangled his fingers in America's hair and forced him back down, finally gaining access to his mouth. Before he had a chance to truly enjoy it, though, America was fighting back. He wondered if this was what America felt like before.
America was totally about to win when Japan, cheating bastard, started fingering him. America moaned. That wasn't fair! His ass was protected by blankets!
Oh, forget it. What did the fighting matter anymore? Japan's fingers were cold, but they were real, something living finally filling him. He allowed himself to lay there and moan, only occasionally pressing his tongue against Japan's. He knew he was hard and Japan was only about half way there but, much like the fighting, what did it matter?
Then he heard the door close and pulled away to look. England's expression was so worth it.
Those wankers! What did they think they were doing, starting without him? He knew it was coming too. America was untrustworthy and Japan was perfectly happy to go along with any of his half-brained schemes. Sometimes he wondered why he allowed himself to stay with those idiots.
Then Japan slid a finger into America.
Ah yes, that was right.
Starting to feel warm, he stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. America's head snapped up and he grinned, "Hey, baby, we've- Ah! Japan, I'm trying to talk- we've been waiting for you."
"Not too patiently, I see," England said, scowling.
"Hey, if you're bottoming it takes more work. It's not like we can just whip out are dicks and start."
"You shouldn't do that anyway, it's terrible form." England approached, removing his clothes on the way.
America rolled his eyes, "Only you would talk about form during sex."
"That's because unlike you I'm a half-way decent lover."
"Hey!"
"Now get off of Japan. Your fat arse is crushing him." He shoved America away and crawled on top of Japan.
England ignored the cry of "I'm not fat!" In favor of leaning down to kiss Japan's cheek.
"Did this idiot do anything too terrible while I was gone?"
"Actually, he was surprisingly well behaved."
"Hey, I'm still here!"
"Was he good enough to deserve a reward?"
"I think giving him a show first would be adequate."
England looked over at America and smirked, "Alright then, you can watch but if you touch - that includes yourself - I don't know what we'll do."
Once America had scooted back far enough and crossed his legs, England turned back to Japan and smiled.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He whispered, running his fingers through Japan's hair.
"Don't worry about that," Japan replied, returning the gesture, "We're together now."
England leaned down to kiss him. It was slow, but in no way dispassionate. It wasn't a war like America's kiss had been, it was more like a reintroduction, gentle presses and caresses that were simply to let them feel each other on a more intimate level. England wrapped his arms around Japan.
It wasn't fair, America decided as he gripped the sheets. England knew how sexy it was when he and Japan made out. They would have been natural porn stars, knowing just how much to show to their audience to make them need to be a part of it. Occasionally he could see their tongues, or England would roll himself up and let him see their chests. And their small, lean bodies rolled and moved together and God, he needed to do something.
You know what, fuck England. He wrapped his hand around his cock. England had designed it for him to fail anyway, or the 'reward' would be the same as the 'punishment.' He followed their movements with his eyes and his hand went at the same pace. He didn't need much, just something, and this was something enough.
For a while it was fine. He got to actually enjoy his show with some of the pressure taken off. But then he moaned. Quickly, he pulled his hand away but not fast enough for them not to notice.
England smirked. "Oh, you naughty, dirty boy."
Oh god, that was enough to make him start going again, but before he could decide if it was worth it, England guided him down onto the bed.
America closed his eyes and opened his mouth, expecting a kiss. Instead, England bit the base of his neck.
"Wait- wha-?"
England didn't let go to answer him. He just sucked harder. It felt- pretty good actually. America threw his head back and panted.
He was so beautiful like that, England mused as he looked up at America. It was so odd to see him so passive, a rare treat that he didn't want to waste. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table and covered his fingers with it. He then threw it somewhere on the bed for later. He wasn't too concerned about it at the moment. He was concerned about nudging America's legs open and easing one finger inside.
America moaned and held him closer, bucking down to get more.
"You're so loose, America," England said, "You practice, don't you? You love this feeling."
"Mmm- Is this really the time to tease me for something like that?" America asked, looking down at him with one eye open.
"Tell me," England insisted, bringing a second finger to tease America without actually going in, "Do you do this to yourself when you think about us?" He moved his finger just so that it would rub America's prostate.
"S-sometimes," He admitted.
"That's good," he said, "I thought I was the only one."
The aroused look on America's face was heavenly.
Japan didn't know what to feel as he watched the other two touch. He should have been aroused. After all, he'd had sex with both of them before, often at the same time, often with similar kisses and touches happening around him. This was different, though, they felt so far away, so detached…
Was this what it was like for them when the other was with him?
Probably not, if America had felt so alone he would have made a fuss. Besides, America had told him that he took pleasure just from watching. But for him…
Japan saw the bottle on the blanket, still open. He picked it up and coated his fingers. Maybe if he touched himself too…
He eased one finger inside. It didn't feel quite as good, but this way he could pretend America was doing it instead. He tried for a second, searching for the spot that only one of his lovers was able to find. Maybe if he used a third to try to cover more ground… He let out a frustrated noise. Why-?
"Honey, you okay?"
Japan looked up to see both America and England looking at him concernedly. Japan blushed and looked away. Why had he let them see?
America looked at England, and made a gesture telling him to get off. He got up on his knees so that America could get away and crawl over Japan. He leaned down and nuzzled him, guiding his hand out.
"Sorry, you know how we get."
England came next and placed a hand gently on Japan's arm, "Would you mind if we joined you, then?"
Japan looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, "Join me?"
"Yeah," America said, knowing where England was going, "So, who do you want?"
"I'd rather not choose."
America felt himself flush, "Hey, we're not going anywhere. I meant who do you want where?"
"I think I like you here," Japan said, wrapping his arms around America for emphasis.
"So that puts me up here, then?" England asked lightly pushing America's back, basically telling him to lie down.
"You were always going to be there," Japan said, "America and I were uncertain of who would be in the middle, though."
"There was a question?" England asked, climbing on America's back, "I thought America would have just claimed it like the greedy bastard he is."
"Kiss my ass," America said as he leaned down to nibble at Japan's collarbone.
"Sorry, I have other plans for it."
"You know, you're kind of a bitch whenever you top…" America muttered, spreading Japan's legs and covering his cock in lube.
"What was that?"
"Love you too, baby," America said, smiling and handing the bottle back to him.
Japan laughed quietly.
"You ready?" America asked, turning his smile on him.
"I think so." He leaned up and kissed America.
America let them kiss for a few moments, nice and slow to make sure he was still with them.
England rubbed his thumbs in circles over America's hips. They were so beautiful like this…
"Yeah, baby?" America asked, breaking his kiss to look up at him.
"N-Nothing," England said, blushing and looking away, "I just like doing this is all."
America laughed, "That's fine. I like you doing it too."
They both… they looked so bloody happy, looking so happy at him.
"America, are you ready?"
"Huh?"
He kissed the back of America's neck, hoping his words would be muffled, "I need you."
"Well, if you need me, go ahead, baby. I guess you're gonna have to wait a little while, honey," He said, nuzzling Japan.
England normally would have rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. He lined himself up and pushed into America.
Oh, this, this… He'd almost forgotten how good it was. America was so snug, so warm around him. He knew he was breathing heavily on America's ear, but he didn't seem to mind, judging from the way he was panting.
There was something on the small of his back. Oh, that was Japan, wasn't it? How did he manage to get his legs around them both?
"I'm holding both of your weights. Please do not forget about me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," England said, craning down over America's shoulder to kiss him.
"Sorry, hun," America said, "England's distracting."
England knew America was in then, because he shuddered and tightened beautifully.
"Please," England said, "Let me move."
"J-Japan? If he moves I'm gonna move. Are you- is that-?"
Japan just nodded and wrapped his arms around America's back.
England set his chin on America's shoulder and finally, thank God finally, started moving. They went slowly at first, passing kisses around freely. America met him at each thrust, pulling back just when England came forward. They kept going faster, just faster and faster. Damn America, there was never enough for him, was there?
England was slow. Normally it was cool. America was totally fine with the lovey-dovey sex most of the time. But when you have a guy on each end for the first time in months lovey-dovey isn't a real option. He had to move, had to have them both. Japan, England, Japan, England, It was too much, too damn much. He had to go faster, so he did. Bit by bit, thrust by thrust, he sped up, making England follow. He was lying down and fucking Japan, having England lie down and fuck him. He wanted to melt, wanted to turn into mush and be stuck between them forever, not move, not peel apart.
America and England were so lovely like that, completely lost to passion. Japan was holding on, but barely. He'd actually get to come this time. He couldn't focus on the two faces in front of his. They were just too close. He kept kissing each in turn, going back and forth, sometimes breaking to bite a neck or jaw. It was hard to tell them apart. All he could see were blurs of pink and yellow. Of course, whenever he actually touched more than their lips he knew, but other than that…
With a jolt he realized that it didn't matter.
Not much longer, England thought. America was moving just right. He pulled away just far enough to get a good look at them, America and Japan both bright red. They more panted than kissed. England reached down to touch Japan. He traced his side, his chest, his neck. His movements were slow, but Japan sensed his urgency. He looked up, his eyes clear. England leaned down to kiss him properly. America was left out though, wasn't he? He turned his head slightly and brought America in for an awkward three-way kiss. Ending it like that was the best he could do.
What? They were kissing now? That was nice. So good… Yeah the kiss, but he-
Japan was happy.