Loose Ends / Part 1 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:31:37 UTC
So anon ended up going on a writing binge. I apologize in advance for any typos, and any and all concrit is happily accepted. Thank you so much, OP, for such an awesome prompt. I've been writing to write this since forever.
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It was weird, to be in this situation finally. In fact, the entire situation itself was something America would never have envisioned for himself-not that it was a bad thing, aspiring nation or not, centuries old or not, he at least appeared as a young man, and young men had urges, right? (He thought that he remembered hearing someone say that once, most likely France, possibly England after he’d had too much to drink-but America didn’t let his mind linger on that man.)
France wasn’t as he remembered it, from the brief times he’d visited. The times when England was “feeling particularly masochistic” and allowed for Canada and America to convince him to let them visit papa France (to which England always insisted they do not call him that under any circumstances, especially when that French frog
( ... )
Loose Ends / Part 2 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:32:17 UTC
America stiffened up, turned his head to give France a determined look, almost a glare. “I’m not.”
Instead of a glare back, which he half expected-that’s how En-
He hadn’t expected the soft smile in return, slow, cat-like. The fingers on his hips shifted, spreading over his stomach and resting there as France pressed up against his back, resting his head on his shoulder. When France turned to press against his neck, America shivered with the stubble of France’s unshaven face pressing up against the smooth column of his neck.
“Non, how rude of me-it is not like you to be afraid,” France conceded, lips grazing over the line of his jaw. His hands left America’s stomach to grasp the fluttering white curtains and wrench them shut over the window. The wind still swayed them out so that they brushed against America’s shins
( ... )
Loose Ends / Part 6 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:35:02 UTC
“I don’t care what England thinks,” America snapped, quickly, his blue eyes burning as hot as the steady pulse inside him, the steady, twisting heat that he told himself was hate-he hated England. “Why do you keep talking about him, anyway? If it’s meant to make me confess to something, you can save your breath. I hate England
( ... )
Loose Ends / Part 7 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:35:59 UTC
France laughed, a loud guffaw almost, his hands roaming over America’s body, smoothing over his thighs, tracing his hips, and counting his ribs. France smiled, smooth and low and sultry. America turned his face away, glaring at the wall. There was a stilted silence where neither said anything, and when America turned back to stare down at France, he refused to wonder why it was that France did not answer the question
( ... )
Loose Ends / Part 8 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:36:52 UTC
“The rhythm, America,” he reminded, and used both hands to move America’s head in the way it was meant to move, keeping his hold light and gentle, slower than how France had moved but no less giving the man pleasure-if the sounds he made were any indication. America let France lead him, choking only slightly when he took more than he was prepared for into his mouth. America fucked France with his mouth, using his tongue when he could, trying to relax and enjoy the feel of it. But it felt empty, it felt different. If he was honest with himself he’d always thought
( ... )
Loose Ends / Part 9 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:37:29 UTC
When they pulled away, America said, not without a sneer, “Maybe you find the anger so amusing because you’re thinking of someone else while I’m here
( ... )
Loose Ends / Part 11 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:38:51 UTC
“I’m not going to cry! Damn it!” America cried out, squirming, trying to get away from France. But he needed to do this-he wanted to do this, right? To solidify his treaty, to experience this. And maybe, if he was perfectly honest with himself, give England a reason to become really, truly angry, to show England that he really didn’t need or want him. Even if that was-
“Why do you look as if you will cry when you say you hate England, America?” France asked in the way that he spoke when he already knew the answer. America stared at him, desperately wishing he could disappear, that this was over, that France would just get it over with so he could leave.
“I don’t look that way! I hate England because he’s a tyrant and taking from me what is mine!”
“You are not a good liar, America,” France said, and dragged his hand over his leg, from ankle up to hip. “When you are like this, alone, in your bed-whose name do you call out?”
America’s eyes widened and he recoiled, trying to kick at France. “Stop it!“Does it make
( ... )
Loose Ends / Part 13 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:40:20 UTC
“Fuck, even now there are some of my people who are loyal to him! Even now, there are people who want the war to end. But there are so many who want to be listened to, want to be independent. That’s all I can want now, because everything else is impossible
( ... )
Loose Ends / Part 15 of 21
anonymous
May 11 2010, 05:41:31 UTC
America opened his eyes and stared at the headboard. Then he turned his head to stare at France over his shoulder. France was busy spreading oil on his fingers and working on loosening America up, in order to enter him. America bit his lip a moment before giving a tiny snort
( ... )
Anon has no specifications other than that - the two can know it, one can learn by the end, England can walk in, etc etc. Go wild, anons. ♥
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---
It was weird, to be in this situation finally. In fact, the entire situation itself was something America would never have envisioned for himself-not that it was a bad thing, aspiring nation or not, centuries old or not, he at least appeared as a young man, and young men had urges, right? (He thought that he remembered hearing someone say that once, most likely France, possibly England after he’d had too much to drink-but America didn’t let his mind linger on that man.)
France wasn’t as he remembered it, from the brief times he’d visited. The times when England was “feeling particularly masochistic” and allowed for Canada and America to convince him to let them visit papa France (to which England always insisted they do not call him that under any circumstances, especially when that French frog ( ... )
Reply
Instead of a glare back, which he half expected-that’s how En-
He hadn’t expected the soft smile in return, slow, cat-like. The fingers on his hips shifted, spreading over his stomach and resting there as France pressed up against his back, resting his head on his shoulder. When France turned to press against his neck, America shivered with the stubble of France’s unshaven face pressing up against the smooth column of his neck.
“Non, how rude of me-it is not like you to be afraid,” France conceded, lips grazing over the line of his jaw. His hands left America’s stomach to grasp the fluttering white curtains and wrench them shut over the window. The wind still swayed them out so that they brushed against America’s shins ( ... )
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“Why do you look as if you will cry when you say you hate England, America?” France asked in the way that he spoke when he already knew the answer. America stared at him, desperately wishing he could disappear, that this was over, that France would just get it over with so he could leave.
“I don’t look that way! I hate England because he’s a tyrant and taking from me what is mine!”
“You are not a good liar, America,” France said, and dragged his hand over his leg, from ankle up to hip. “When you are like this, alone, in your bed-whose name do you call out?”
America’s eyes widened and he recoiled, trying to kick at France. “Stop it!“Does it make ( ... )
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