A Year of Surprises 5
Pairing: UKUS
Rating/Warnings: M for language, sex, mpreg, and angst (Only the last two in this one)
Word count: 1544
Summary: Nations in times of prosperity are capable of reproducing. Of course there's a problem with this: when they do go into heat it doesn't stop until they conceive. This is the story of America's first pregnancy.
Chapter 1
October
England had thought that the sex would stop once America accepted he was pregnant. After all, once England realized he was up the duff he tended to run away and head off to a house miles away from society to wait for the baby to come.
America was different. Even the day that he ran away with his horse he came right back and pressed himself against England in a tight embrace. He didn't blame England; he wasn't angry with him. He just seemed sort of... empty. It was rather strange from England's point of view. After all, for him usually having a child was a way not to feel so alone.
Still, he did what he could to comfort the poor lad. Thankfully, often times it was rather nice for him as well.
Like, for example, the way that America was currently making eyes at him from across the supper table. He succeeded in suppressing his grin down to a sly smirk. Such a lewd thing he'd become in such a short amount of time! Of course, England was just as bad. There had been just as many evenings when he would reach out and pet America's cheek, pulling him in for a kiss and then slowly working him up to something more.
But for the time being he had to play the game. He pretended not to notice the look on America's face, instead choosing to focus on carefully slicing a piece of meat and bringing it to his mouth. He felt America's eyes on him, even though he turned his head to look out the window. He fought the urge to look back, to see America blushing as he watched him. England could never actually understand America's fascination with watching him eat, but he didn't mind. After all, it wasn't as though he was without his fair share of kinks and this one of America's was easy to exploit.
England was just glad that the servants left them alone after providing supper. It never did anyone any good to have rumors of sodomy or incest flying about, and he'd rather not have eyewitnesses for what humans would take to be incestuous sodomy.
"England?" America asked.
"Yes, darling?" England replied, turning back to face him.
"We're not even going to make it to the sitting room tonight, are we?"
England twirled his fork in his hand as though deep in thought, "I suppose you're right. It's a shame, too. I was hoping to seduce you by reading erotic poetry aloud this time."
America visibly shivered pleasantly, "Maybe tomorrow. I need you now." He set down his knife and fork
"You're awfully eager tonight. You've scarcely touched your food."
"I'm not hungry."
"America," England said sternly, "You need to eat."
He huffed, "I don't wanna."
"America, this isn't like you." This wasn't something he wanted to play around with. He stood and walked over to America's side of the table, "Your appetite is usually insatiable as it is, and now you have a growing child to feed." America's face fell at the mention of the baby, but England kept going, "It's more important that you get your nutrients now than it ever was before."
"Can't we talk about this later?" He squirmed uncomfortably.
That was no good. He had promised to protect America and that included from his own thick-headedness. Maybe England could get him to respond well to some coaxing.
"Come now, love, it's not all that bad." England pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, letting his eyes fall half-closed, "After all, I'm sure I can make this worth your while too..."
America blushed and sputtered, "W-what are you talking about?"
England grabbed America's fork and speared a piece of potato. He turned to him, making sure to let their knees brush and held it out to him, "Go on, be a good lad and open up."
America's blush grew even more intense as he dutifully opened his mouth and leaned forward to take the morsel.
"Mmm, very nice." He pulled the fork away and America swallowed hard. He tried again, this time cutting a strip of meat before offering it.
America became more and more flustered as the rest of his food disappeared in a similar manner, his face a delightful combination of embarrassment and arousal. America's britches weren't the only ones that were rather tight by the time his plate was empty.
"There," England said, placing the knife and fork back down on the table, "That wasn't so horrible, was it?" He frowned and clicked his tongue, "But don't you see what you've done? What food of mine was left must have grown cold by now. That's no good!" He ran a finger down America's arm, "And bad boys have to go straight to bed after supper."
America's face lit up like the sky at dawn and he bounced out of his seat, "Whelp, gotta follow the rules. Let's go get my punishment started." He winked at England, making him chuckle.
England allowed himself to be led back to his bedroom. The servants had started a fire in the fireplace a while ago and it was burning happily away, giving the room a rather pleasant warmth. England took a moment to be grateful for that. After all, the evenings were starting to get rather cold and they were about to be naked. America didn't give him much time to think on that, though, because as soon as the door shut he found himself being pressed against it and kissed hard.
"My, my, America," England said as soon as they pulled apart, "you're being rather assertive tonight."
"You made me sit through all that shit at the table," he huffed, "I'm not gonna wait anymore."
"Fair Enough," England said, running a hand through America's hair, "Then you're in charge. What do you plan on doing to me?"
America grinned and picked him up. England let out a squawk, but America didn't pay him any mind as he carried him over to the bed and set him down gently.
"Well, first off. I'm gonna get you out of these clothes."
He crawled over England and began to undo the buttons on his waistcoat from the top with his teeth as his hands began working on the bottom. England just lay back and watched in awe as the very same America who was usually so docile in the bedroom tore at his clothing with the ferocity of a wounded bear. He swallowed and felt himself blushing. If this was how America acted when felt he had been denied sex for too long, England would have to start denying him on a regular basis.
His shirt quickly received the same treatment as his waistcoat. He sat for a moment in order to shuck them along with his overcoat and throw them to the ground. America didn't even give him time to lie back before he was furiously undoing his breeches. England lifted his hips and allowed America to slide them off along with his hose. However, when America reached for his shift, England took his wrists to stop him.
"That's not fair, love," He said softly, "I refuse to be bare while you're still fully dressed."
He flipped them and straddled America's thighs. He slowly undid America's waistcoat, taking the time to make him squirm and grow even more aroused. By the time his shirt was undone America was writhing on the bed and mewling in a way that was high-pitched and desperate. It was time to indulge him, to finally give him the payoff he deserved.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" He placed his hand over America's groin and gave it a small squeeze. America positively keened at the contact. "Well don't worry, I'm not any better off than you." He said, gesturing to his own prominent erection, his shift doing absolutely nothing to hide it.
"I know England, but please. Please, I need you."
"Soon, my darling," England replied, kissing him on the forehead before beginning to unfasten his breeches, "Soon."
America pouted but did no more to fuss since England was moving quickly instead of at the snail's pace of before. He removed his own shift before climbing back over America to kiss him breathless. Their tongues tangled, rubbing and caressing, and America buried his fingers in England's hair. They were both moaning softly into the kiss. England flipped them so that America was on top once more.
"Huh? Why'd you do that?" America asked.
"You said you didn't want to wait anymore," England whispered in his ear, "so I thought maybe you'd like to take control. You may steer me in whatever direction you'd like."
America just stared at him for a few moments. This was entirely new for him. They'd experimented with giving him different levels of control and they'd already tried having America top once or twice, but England had always given the direction. He had been the one to pick the position, or at least to guide America through what to do. He had never allowed the boy free reign before. Hopefully it would make it up to him for all the time he'd wasted working him into a tizzy.
"C-can I ride you?" He asked softly, "When we did that last week I really, really liked it."
England smiled and stroked his hair, "Of course, poppet. I rather enjoyed that one too."
America sat up, straddling his waist, and pulled off his shift.
Good God he was beautiful. Every inch of him was glorious, from his tousled straw-blond hair to his desperate red cock. His chest and shoulders were muscular, no doubt from working the large garden in the back and helping to care for the horses. His legs were the same way, with big strong muscles on his calves and thighs. In spite of all that, there was still a softness to him. England placed his hands on America's upper thighs, massaging them to feel the slight give of the thin layer of fat. He had a bit of a belly, too. It had nothing to do with the child, it was still far too early for that, but he had gotten bigger since he'd first lain with England. England reasoned that it was for the oncoming winter, after all everyone tended to gain weight in the autumn to provide extra warmth, but the reason was of little consequence. All that mattered was that it made his America, his precious, beautiful America, even cuter and sexier than he already was.
America reached over for the vial of slick they kept on the bedside table. He coated three of his fingers in it and reached behind to finger himself. England desperately wanted to watch, to see America easing his own fingers in and out of that sweet, tight, hole. However, there was something erotic about just watching his face too. England bit his lip, as America's face contorted in pleasure. His eyes were closed tightly but his mouth hung open, pink tongue sitting on his lower lip as he panted harshly. England couldn't help it. He began to pump his own cock in time to America's movements.
"H-hey," America said, opening his eyes and looking down at him "Don't come. I need you inside of me."
England laughed breathlessly, "I wouldn't dream of it."
They locked eyes, each watching the other pleasure himself. England licked his lips. America had almost been too much before, and now with those big blue eyes staring down at him, pupils wide and eyes dark with lust...
"Are you ready?" He asked America quickly. "I don't know if I can keep this up."
"Yeah," America breathed, pulling his hand out from behind him and wrapping it around England's cock, smearing what slick was left over it.
England threw his head back and moaned. His own hand had been bad enough, but it always felt better when America touched him and his fingers were so hot from being buried inside him...
"Hnn- England, you're so-! I-I can't wait anymore. I need you."
"Then don't wait." England grabbed his hips and lined him up over his cock.
America smiled and slowly eased his way down. England let out a long drawn-out groan. No matter how many years they stayed together, he doubted that he would ever tire of being inside of America. He was so hot and soft and it was as though God had shaped him to fit England perfectly. Once his eyelids stopped fluttering, he noticed the look on America's face. It was all scrunched up again, this time with pain mixed into the pleasure.
"Dammit..." America panted, "How do you still feel so big?"
"I'm sorry," England said, smiling, "I can't really help it." He gently rubbed circles on America's hipbone, hoping to soothe him.
After a few moments and several deep breaths, America placed his hands on England's chest.
"You ready?" He asked.
"For you?" England tightened his grip on America's hips, "Always."
America smiled and lifted himself off of England's cock only to impale himself on it again. He quickly set a brisk pace. Even laying on his back England was starting to sweat just trying to keep up. Fuck! The friction was almost too much. He hadn't used enough slick again, had he? England looked back up at America concernedly, but there was no pain on his features. His expression was pure bliss as he bounced up and down happily. England sighed and allowed himself to relax into the pillows. As long as America wasn't hurting he could lay back and enjoy their coupling.
It helped that he had a rather nice view. America's entire body was slowly turning bright red and slick with a fine layer of sweat. His softer areas jiggled with every bounce, moving at a rhythm that was just slightly different from the rest of his body.
Oh, God, how would it be in a few months when his stomach was no longer slightly pudgy but a massive, firm dome? How sexy would he be with not only his belly swollen, but his chest as well, with his nipples big and dark and practically leaking milk? How would it feel for America to have sex when he was showing? How would it feel to take someone who was showing? England had never tried either before. After all, the father had never stayed when he was pregnant and he had never stayed when he was the father. It wasn't how their kind worked, it wasn't how they operated. This was different, it was new, it was... Hell, it was almost wrong.
England didn't know how anyone had gone without doing this before. It was nice to have a dependable partner, someone who was there whenever England wanted him, someone that knew all the little things that drove him wild. And then with a child on the way-!
America, it seemed, was getting bored of doing one thing over and over, even if that one thing was sexual gratification. His hands began roaming England's chest as he fucked himself on his cock.
England shuddered. Although his touches were light and sweet his thrusts had grown even more quick and intense. It was a fantastic contrast and he was sure that America was doing it for the sole purpose of driving him wild. It didn't help that he was stroking his most sensitive areas: his sides, his upper arms, his pectoral muscles. He crooned. He was glad his colony was such a quick learner.
He almost felt guilty leaving things the way they were, though. America was doing so much to please him, but he was offering nothing in return except for his cock. He began to move with America, helping him to get deeper and changing the angle to rub against his prostate more regularly. He sat up and pulled America's top half close, tangling their tongues together. His hands roamed America's body, tracing his spine down to his arse and massaging the cheeks teasingly before spreading the cheeks and feeling where they were connected. A constant stream of moans and whimpers tumbled freely from America's mouth.
"You're fantastic," He whispered in his ear, "so good, so sexy..." He nibbled on the ridge then, making America sob with pleasure.
"Oh, England, I- I-"
"Ssh," He pulled his hand up to rub circles on America's back, "It's alright. I- I- I've got you."
"I know!" America stopped loosely holding his neck like he had before and slid his hands down to grip at his shoulders. England knew even then that the next morning he would have big red marks from his nails, "You've got me! I'm yours! Don't ever let me go!"
"Never! You're mine! Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!"
"Yes! Oh, yes! Yours, a- all yours. I- England- you-"
He lost what capability of speech he still had when England bit his shoulder. He applied as much pressure as he could and sucked hard, wanting to leave a mark. America was his, after all; he'd said so, and England wanted everyone to see it. Fuck what the people in town thought! America was- he was-
Their pace grew more frantic and England reached down to begin stroking America's cock. That was all he had the presence to do by then. He wanted them to come at the same time. It was good when they did, so good, and he was close. At America's current pace he didn't know how long it would be.
He released America's shoulder to place his head on it, barely able to remember to breathe. America let out a shout and suddenly England felt a rush of warmth against his stomach. America's nails dug deeper into his back and then he raked them down. It was the suddenness of it that allowed England's orgasm to escape, racking his body with waves of pure ecstasy. He clutched America tightly, not wanting him to fall, not wanting him to get hurt.
Once he had the presence to do so, he slowly laid back down taking America with him. He slid out and rolled over so that America's limp body was next to his instead of on top of it. For a while they just stared at each other, too winded to speak. America smiled and leaned forward to nuzzle him gently. England closed his eyes and reciprocated the gesture. They may have both been rubbish at verbal communication, but at least they had this. At least they had the light touches and the gentle affection that hopefully explained enough.
Eventually, America rolled over and pressed himself backwards against England's body. England took the blanket and covered the both of them before sinking forward into America's body.
He placed his nose in Americas hair and breathed deeply, loving the way America's natural scent was mixed with sweat and sex. He closed his eyes and smiled to himself.
He could get used to this sort of life. It was nice to go to sleep and wake up next to the same person every day, for him to always be there at England's side. He almost dared to think he felt like a normal person. After all, how different were their lives than those of hundreds if not thousands of others? It was like they were a newly married couple. England was a man already established in the world and able to provide for a family. America was his young bride (although he would kill him if he knew he had referred to him as such). The two of them lived together and worked together and slept together and, if it wasn't too much to assume, loved each other. There was even the crazy amount of passionate sex and now a child on the way.
He kissed America's neck and placed a hand on his stomach. Yes, this was his perfect little family. He felt giddy and wanted desperately to know when he would first see a sign of his baby. He couldn't wait for the days when he could look down with pride and see America's growing belly. He pressed softly against America's flesh, wishing that he could feel his firm womb even though he knew it was still too early.
What would their child be like? Would it be a boy or a girl? Would it have his face or America's? What would any of it matter when a beautiful child that was part him, part America came toddling up to him, hugged his knees and said "I love you, daddy"?
"Hey England?"
"Yes?" he said dreamily. Oh, these next few decades would be brilliant. He would get to stay and be the father that America and his baby deserved. He'd have to do his best to be worthy of that title.
"What would happen if I killed myself?"
There were so many things to think about, if they would have tutors or if he and America would teach it, what sort of clothes they would buy for it, when it would move into its own room, and, wait, what did he just say?
"What?" England asked.
"I don't mean, like, permanently!" America said, quickly, "But you know how if we're shot or stabbed or something like that we come back to life? If I did that now would that end this?"
"You're planning on killing it?" England demanded, not believing what he was hearing
America winced, "I-it sounds a lot harsher when you put it that way."
"America, a woman can't even be hanged if she's pregnant!"
"And I'm not a woman." He sat up, "England, I can't do this! I won't be ready in time. I'd be a terrible, horrible parent. It would be nicer to do this."
England shook his head, speechless.
"Just tell me, will it work or not?"
England took a deep breath, trying to get his head on straight enough to make sense. Once he was ready he sat up, "Yes and no."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, no one's tried it on purpose before, but nations have been killed while pregnant and when they die most of the time the baby dies too. However, it's not as though it ends everything."
"What do you mean?" America asked, furrowing his brow.
"First of all, your body rejects the dead child and it has to come out. Depending on how far along you are it can be as bad or worse as if you were birthing a real child because it can't get into position. Then within a month you go into heat again and it's even more intense than it was before. Your body won't give up until you bring a child to term."
"That's not fair!"
"I know." England brushed a hand through America's hair, "I know it isn't fair. If I could have chosen I would have waited for you to go into heat for another few hundred years, but I couldn't. Sometimes in life there are tradeoffs, and for an eternity of youth, beauty, and strength, we don't have as much free will as humans do."
"But England, I can't do it!"
"I'm sorry, but you have to."
"But I can't! I'm not ready!"
"Then you're smarter than most people. You're smarter than I was."
"What?"
England sighed, "America, there is no such thing as ready for a baby. No matter how prepared you feel you might be it will never be enough. I had my fifth child twenty years ago at the age of thirteen-hundred and I still wasn't ready when Jonathan came."
"But you were more ready than me!"
"America, would you like me to tell you about my first?"
"I don't see how that'll help."
"Just trust me."
"Fine," America huffed, lying back down.
England took his place behind him again but this time placed his hand on America's upper stomach, far away from the child. "It was 1294, long before we even knew of this new world. I was young, even younger than you are now in appearance. If you're about sixteen, I would estimate I was only about fourteen or maybe fifteen. Portugal and I were beginning to cooperate in military and political operations. He and his boss had come to my house to negotiate some informal agreement or another and I went into heat. Neither of us really knew what we were doing. We understood sex and realized we wanted it, but we were too young to know the signs, to know that in less than a year I was going to have a child.
"He left before I realized I was pregnant. I knew nations bear children. I had seen some of them obviously pregnant. I had even watched Wales grow big and round until he disappeared one night and came back a few weeks later slim again and with a child in his arms. Although he never explicitly told me he had carried and I still don't know who the father was, I would have had to be stupid not to realize what was going on. However, I thought I was too young for it to happen to me. That's why when the tiredness and the vomiting and the aches came I believed it to be something else. It wasn't until I was showing too much to confuse it with paunch that I finally realized what was going on.
"I ran away then. I didn't know what else I could do. I couldn't trust my brothers and I doubted Portugal would be able to come in time even if he believed me. I took all the food I could and stockpiled it in a cottage in the woods. For a few months I was fine. It was a bitter cold winter, but I was surrounded by dead wood that was easy to burn. I just snuggled next to the fire with what few books I stole from the library. I slept when I was tired, I ate when I was hungry, and I rather enjoyed myself.
"Then I realized the food was running out. Maybe I had forgotten to compensate for the fact I was also feeding a child, but most likely I simply hadn't realized how much a man actually eats in a day. By this time there was no way to hide my belly. I had to sneak out in the freezing cold nights and steal food and firewood, for I had also cleared out the nearby area. I stole bread and chickens from nearby farms and set up snares around my house to try to supplement that. It still wasn't enough. I wasn't as agile as I once was and I tired easily. There were many nights that I had to return home empty-handed because I didn't have a big enough opening to sneak onto someone's property.
"It's terrible to go to sleep hungry on a good day. It's even more horrible to go to sleep hungry when you're pregnant because then you know that your child is starving too, that you can't even provide it with what it needs to live. It's the worst feeling in the world. After a while I was too sick to walk more than a few paces. The animals learned of my snares so it was rare to catch anything. After that I didn't even have the energy to make it out to the well. All I consumed for weeks was leather boiled in melted snow."
He paused. No matter how much time he put between the present and then it was still unpleasant to think about. He couldn't bear all those nights he'd spent curled up in a haphazard nest of straw and linens feeling like a failure but knowing that crying would waste precious energy and wishing he could sleep and at least save what he could.
America shifted uncomfortably in his arms. "W-what happened?"
England closed his eyes and placed his face in America's hair, "My labor was long and painful. I didn't have the energy to stand or even sit, so I had to give birth lying down. I cried when I felt her coming, partially from the pain and partially because I was sure I had miscarried. I didn't bother getting her until she started screaming and I realized she was alive.
"I cleaned her and held her close. I was surprised that she was able to get milk from me, but she drank her fill and went to sleep. Right then and there I decided that whatever I did I was not going to let her die.
"Somehow we made it. I was so hungry that I ate the afterbirth like an animal, but it helped me recover enough that I could make it to town. I was scared to leave her alone, but I knew that was the only way we could survive. Thankfully, I had taken a large sum of money with me when I went into hiding. I went into town and bought as much food as I could carry. I remember that I couldn't even wait until I got home. I ate a whole loaf of bread on the road. It was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."
"Did she survive?" America asked in a small voice.
England smiled, "Yes. Audrey actually probably grew to be the strongest of all my children. She had a fiery spirit, that one. Once she was old enough we actually hid her gender and she and I joined the army to fight Scotland. She had this long affair with a captain, actually. They got married when he first got her pregnant, but she basically had her baby and went right back to fighting. I remember the general told me that in spite of lying about her gender and the insubordination, she was too good of a shot with the longbow to give up." He laughed, "She was a fantastic woman. I miss her so much sometimes." He nuzzled America, "But do you realize why I told you this?"
"To make me feel like a whiny little ass?" America asked.
"No. Not at all." He gently stroked America's side, "I would never mock you. I wasn't ready physically and you're not ready mentally, but I made it through and so can you. I can relate to you at least on some level. And whenever you worry if it's worth it," He lifted his head and nuzzled America, "I can at least try to tell you how it feels when your child says its first words, or takes its first steps, or even just looks at you and smiles.
"Babies are stressful things, and I would have to be stupid to say otherwise especially after how many I've dealt with. But they're worth it. Oh God, America, are they worth it. When that baby is born, you're their entire world. You're their warmth, their food, their comfort, their shelter, their playmate, their everything. To have something that loves you so unconditionally, so unequivocally, it defies language." He kissed him on the temple, "But you'll know. Soon you'll understand what it's like."
America was silent for a minute, and then he said, "I'm still scared."
"I know, love." England stroked his hair, "And it's alright to be scared. But trust me when I say that I'll be here. I'll always be here."
He rolled over and buried his face in England's chest. "Thanks," He said, even though his voice was slightly muffled.
England stroked his hair and smiled, happy that he had been able to help on some level at least.
Chapter 6