The Spice of Life 6
Pairing: USUKUS
Rating/Warnings: M for sex, extra warning for teen!England and just a hair of dubcon
Word Count: 2468
Summary: America and England enjoy sex as a general rule. Then one night America requests that England uses his magic to allow them to act out kinks they couldn't normally accomplish.
Chapter One
A/n: Putting in here an extra warning for teen!England and some slight dubcon (although America is the victim, not England)
Also, there is probably only one more chapter after this. It'll be long, but I think there's only one more.
The world was much bigger when England woke. He blinked until the bedroom came into focus so that his eyes could confirm what he was feeling. It was just as he expected: his clothes were loose and the pillow was larger than it was the night before. He sat and stretched, letting out a yawn. Well, he was awake, so why not go and make himself a pot of tea?
It was only when he sat in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to heat up that it finally clicked in his head that the situation was abnormal and possibly problematic. He raced to the bathroom and looked at his reflection. Sure enough, his face had changed back to when he was a teenager. God, he hadn't looked so young since the fourteenth century.
"Christ," he muttered to himself, "were my cheeks really this round back then?" His voice was higher too, he noted. It wasn't a child's voice anymore, but it wasn't quite at his normal low tenor.
He turned back to the mirror and pinched one of his cheeks for good measure, lost in the novelty. There was hair there, but instead of the normal coarse stubble he had gotten used to in the morning it was soft and pale, completely unnoticeable except for when he rubbed it the wrong way and he felt it move. He looked at his arms and found that the hair had gotten thinner overnight there too. His shoulders were narrower, his Adam's apple was almost nonexistent, and he was a good half-foot shorter. He'd never seen his younger self so clearly: mirrors were far better then than they were seven hundred years prior. For several minutes he was lost to his memories, thinking of all that had been going on the last time his body looked like that.
"Hey baby!" America calls, "I'm up now. What do you want for breakfast?"
"Some eggs over easy would be nice!" He called back before returning to prodding at his youthful face some more.
At the sound of England's voice, America's footfalls ceased. Then he began rushing towards England. "My god! What happened to you?"
"I'm younger I think." England said, continuing to inspect himself, "Was this kink one of yours?"
"Oh. The jar. Right." He blushed bright red, "Well, I... kinda, sorta... liked you since I was a colony. I-I'd been hoping we could act it out."
"Nothing to be ashamed about there," England said, going up on his tip-toes to give America his good morning kiss (Christ, how much shorter had he been as a teenager?)
However, America turned his head so that it landed on his cheek instead of his lips, "Eggs! Right! Don't want you eating them raw and whole again." He let out a nervous laugh and bolted from the bathroom.
"What has gotten into him?" England asked himself.
However, he didn't think on it too long. He was a growing boy again, after all, and his stomach was complaining about its lack of food. So, England wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table, watching America work, bent over the stove and so beautiful. Normally England would be staring at his fantastic behind, but he'd already decided that that wouldn't be what today was about. No, England was smaller and looked far less experienced. He wanted to relish it.
Oh, After breakfast he would have him. He'd look up at America, really up now, with his big green eyes and give pouting a try. He'd get America to lead him back to the bedroom and gently lay him down in the sheets. Then he'd make love to him, slow and sweet and perfect like America almost always did when he topped. And it would be so nice to be topped like this. Although twenty-three wasn't too old, he bet he'd have a much shorter refractory period when he was fourteen. He bet that America could make him come over and over again until they were both too tired to so much as lift a finger.
America turned around holding the two plates. He laughed, "Must smell pretty good, huh? You're already drooling."
England shook his head, "Yes, that's it."
He tried not to stare at America while they were eating. America was babbling on and on about the dream he had last night, but England could barely focus enough on getting bits of his egg into his mouth. He was too busy thinking dirty, pornographic, horrible things. It would be so wrong, but that would make it all the better.
"Hey, England! Earth to England!"
England blinked and looked at America, blushing, "Yes? What is it?"
"I asked if you wanted to go to the zoo today."
"The zoo?" England asked. That sounded like a spectacular waste of teenage stamina.
"Yeah! It'll be fun. They have a new baby koala! Oz wanted me to send a picture with it to prove that my animal skills work even on little furry balls of death!"
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" England sighed.
"I have to work tomorrow." America said, pouting.
England clenched his jaw. Yes, he certainly had to learn the secret of the pout.
"Alright. But I'd like you to help me with something first."
"Sure!" America said, beaming, "whatever you want."
"It's in the bedroom. Come with me."
"Man, look at these dishes! I'd better start cleaning them before the egg dries and it becomes a bitch to get off! Why don't you go take a shower and get dressed and I'll help you later?"
England huffed. It wasn't like America to refuse sex like that. Maybe he was really serious about posing for pictures with a marsupial.
The rest of the day, America stayed strangely aloof. He wouldn't even let England hold his hand, much less kiss him. The most he got was an occasional, brief hug. He was referring to England as his younger brother, not his boyfriend or even his friend. He sort of understood. After all, America was legally an adult and he wasn't. He didn't want any questions either.
England wanted to go home so that he could hold America like his lover again, but even after taking the picture with the koala, they milled around the zoo, America being completely enamored with everything and anything they came across while England was completely enamored with America. Even though England wanted America's touch like he wanted air, it was nice to see him being so unabashedly cute.
However, eventually the zoo had to close. England finally thought he might finally be about to get sex, but then America decided that they had to go see the new batman movie. It wasn't too bad, honestly, although he would have preferred more action and less of Christian Bale's dreadful acting. When he expressed this opinion to America, he just threw his head back and laughed, "You never got unspoiled from Shakespeare, did you?" England huffed and turned away.
They stopped by a Chinese restaurant and got takeaway for supper. England allowed himself to be distracted by chatting and banter all the way back to America's house and through their miniature picnic on the living room floor. Of course, it was easier to stay distracted while making snarky comments about the ridiculous reality show playing in the background.
"Why do all of these programs have to have a right bastard of a British judge?" He asked, frowning.
"Well, you do like to complain about things, like you just demonstrated," America said with a smile before taking a bite of his egg roll.
England let out a harsh laugh, "No, I don't think it's that. That perversion of yours for me shouting at you has sunk into your entire population, hasn't it?"
America swallowed and placed the egg roll on top of what was left of his sweet and sour chicken. "Maybe. I do like it a lot." He gave England one of his obscene eyebrow wiggles, but instead of leaning forward to kiss him or swiping him off his feet like America usually did, he took up his fork and started eating again.
Alright, he was clearly just being facetious. "Let's go to bed." England said, closing the lid on what was left of his chow mei fun.
"What, did widdle Engwand miss his bedtime? Even I'm not tired."
"No." England too his hand, "Let's go to bed."
America blushed cherry red, "Oh, yeah, right. We can, um, do that."
England rolled his eyes. Why America had decided to play the awkward virgin act that night was beyond him. They put the leftovers in the fridge and then made their way to America's room. Once they reached the threshold, England couldn't stand it anymore. He threw his arms around America's shoulders and kissed him. America placed his hands on England's hips, god they were so big on him now, and kissed back with just a hint of shyness. Maybe America was worried about overwhelming him.
"Don't worry," England said pulling away, "I'm smaller now, but I'm still me. I know you. We've done this a thousand times."
"Right," America said, leaning down to kiss him again.
America was squirming a bit. Poor boy must have been as aroused as England was. Suddenly it all made sense. That must have been why he put it off: he wanted to make it even sweeter when they finally came together. England sighed into his mouth and buried his fingers in his hair. For such an idiot, sometimes his America was an absolute genius. America was sweating. He could feel it on the back of his neck. Wow, to be like that already England must have really been turning him on.
"I can't help it anymore. I need you now." He looked up at America through half-lidded eyes. That meant he could barely make out his face, but that was alright. England had memorized every inch of him long ago. He knew that look of need, that way his pupils would blow wide with arousal and make his cerulean eyes even darker and deeper than they normally were.
He walked backwards towards the bed until he fell over, pulling America down on top of him. They were kissing again as America gently moved him so that his head was in the pillows. He undid America's belt and fly while America fumbled with his. The heat was radiating off of his skin. England couldn't wait to be pressed under that, to feel every inch of America, especially the six and a half inches just beneath his belt. England reached up to cup his groin. He was still mostly soft. Odd, with how aroused he seemed to be before he should have had a full-blown erection by that point. Well, it didn't matter. It happened to everyone from time to time. He would just give it a few minutes. Besides, that meant more time to play with his lover before getting to the main act.
As soon as England's jeans were undone, America hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled them all the way down. Once he was free, England wrapped his legs around America. God, he felt so much bigger like that! His cock twitched at the very thought of being completely covered and filled to bursting all at once. He pushed America's trousers as low as he could with his feet, not wanting to relinquish his hold on America's neck.
"Get the lube," He whispered into America's ear, "I need you inside of me."
"You're being awfully bossy today," America said nervously as he rummaged through the drawer of the bedside table.
"And you're being awfully bashful. Come on, love."
He closed his eyes and spread his legs, eagerly awaiting America. He heard the soft click of the cap opening and the tell-tale squirt of a mostly empty bottle. They'd have to buy a new one soon. He waited and waited, but nothing happened.
"Please, Meri," He groaned, "I don't care how cold it is, I need it."
"…I can't." England opened his eyes just in time to see America roll away. He grabbed a pillow and curled around it, "I just can't. I can't rape you." He started shaking.
God, what had gotten into that head of his? "Ssh, it's alright. I'm fine. I want this America."
"You can't. You can't want it. You're too young. I can't. I just-"
He started sobbing.
"Oh, Christ," England wrapped his arms around America's frame, careful to keep his still-prominent erection away to not distress him further, "It's fine. It's just me. It's England. It's sixteen-hundred-year-old England. You're fine."
"No, I'm not fine. I can't even- I won't even- I've been working up my courage all day, but I still can't-"
England's throat went dry. "Oh no. Shite, America, I thought you liked it. I thought you were pretending for some reason. I never dreamed- I wish you would have said something."
America looked back over his shoulder at him, "You know how I am with talking. I tried to show you. That's why I wouldn't kiss you and why I took you out to all of those places. When you kept pushing, I thought- I thought you just really wanted this."
"Fuck," He shook his head, "I should have noticed, should have seen- Dammit, America, I've practically been molesting you all day."
"We're dating England," America said, rolling back over to face him, "Just because I can't take one of the kinks-"
England placed a finger to America's lips to silence him. "No, America. You didn't want it, but I forced you to."
"You can't force me to-"
"Yes, but I pressured you. I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry." He wrapped his arms around America and kissed his forehead. "You're a good man, America. Don't forget that."
He pulled away and gathered his clothes. "I'm going to go shower and I'll sleep in the spare room. I'll make you breakfast tomorrow. Just- just try to feel better."
He awoke in the middle of the night to find his body back to normal. He went back to America's room. He was thrashing in his sleep and whining like he was in pain. England placed a hand on his shoulder and at first America stiffened.
"It's alright, love. It's me, normal me this time." At the sound of his voice, America relaxed. England eased his way into bed next to him and wrapped his arms around America's torso. He swore he would make it up to him. Somehow.
Next (and final) Chapter