http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10530.html?thread=18314274#t18314274 Request was for "England feeding on China. Blood, flesh, cum, breastmilk- whatever." Filled mostly with blood and a little flesh and semen. Warnings for knifeplay, blood-drinking, biting, drug use, and a brief mention of breastfeeding which some may or may not find offputting. Also contains nipple-play and frot, hope that's okay. Written while listening to Genitorturer's "One Who Feeds" and Repo!'s "Zydrate Anatomy". ~
England is the one with the knife in his hand, the one pinning his partner to the silk-hung bed, but as he looks at China's enigmatic smirk he's unsure which one of them is really in control. Both of them are a little drunk, but England's hand doesn't tremble. China's hair is loose and his robe is open, black silk exposing his white flesh, and the knife opens up little nicks here and there, red smeared on silver. China murmurs appreciatively, and England strokes the flat of the blade against his throat.
"I could kill you, you know," he says; not threateningly, just musing.
"I know. But you won't." China runs his fingers through the blood rising on his ribcage, and dips them into his mouth. "Mm. Try some?" He reaches up, and England takes China's index finger between his lips. Just a faint tang of blood lingers, leaving him hungry for more. Nations are born from blood, destined to spill blood. A taste for it is normal for them.
England draws the knife lightly across China's chest, just above his left nipple, eliciting a gasp, and bends down to lick up the rising fluid. China's fingers entwine in his hair, and he groans and grinds up against England's hip.
"Oh! K-keep doing that ..."
England smirks against China's nipple. "You know, if you react this strongly, it's probably a good thing you never had to nurse any of your kids." China pulls his hair sharply in retaliation, and England gasps in pain.
"I don't recall giving you permission to talk," China purrs, every inch Imperial despite his position near-naked under his knife-wielding rival. England gets the point and resumes licking, running the tip of his tongue around the nipple, then driving it into the cut, causing China to cry out. "Ah! Shit ... You're still dressed. Why?"
England puts the knife on the bedside table, sits up and tugs off his white shirt, ruined now with little dabs and smears of blood. China looks on appreciatively, the long nails of his left hand playing with his own nipple while the other hand rests on England's hip. His sleeve slides down to his elbow, exposing the untouched flesh of his arm, begging for marks. England's right hand joins China's left, while he clumsily unfastens his trousers and shoves them off.
"You like this, then?" England says, pinching sharply.
"Ah! Y-yes ... Korea likes t-to grab me there 'cause he knows I react. Little bastard."
"Yes, well, don't waste time thinking about him now." England lies back down on top of China and resumes his attentions, pressing the flat of his tongue over the nipple, licking gently around it again, then sucking hard. Blood fills his mouth as he sucks on the fresh cut.
"Mm ... bite it," China instructs. "Hard as you like." England is only too happy to oblige.
By now China's erection is jabbing insistently into his stomach, and his own is resting between China's spread thighs. He grinds down experimentally. China rolls his hips upwards and moans approvingly. England's left hand slides under China's head and strokes the nape of his neck. Another cry from China, and England grins; another sensitive spot found.
Without warning, he snatches up the knife again, and leaves a long slice along China's bare forearm. Not into the vein - he won't cut their game short. China yells in surprise, and England takes advantage and shoves his tongue into his partner's mouth. When he pulls away, China's lips are smeared with sticky red as well. China's face settles into a wicked smile.
"Good, very good," China coos, entwining his fingers in England's hair again. "Now finish what you started." He keeps up a steady tug on England's hair. England groans. He might not have a curl like the Italy boys, but hair-pulling is still a weakness of his.
[Part 6] "Addicted to the Knife" (England/China blood-drinking), 1/2.
~
England is the one with the knife in his hand, the one pinning his partner to the silk-hung bed, but as he looks at China's enigmatic smirk he's unsure which one of them is really in control. Both of them are a little drunk, but England's hand doesn't tremble. China's hair is loose and his robe is open, black silk exposing his white flesh, and the knife opens up little nicks here and there, red smeared on silver. China murmurs appreciatively, and England strokes the flat of the blade against his throat.
"I could kill you, you know," he says; not threateningly, just musing.
"I know. But you won't." China runs his fingers through the blood rising on his ribcage, and dips them into his mouth. "Mm. Try some?" He reaches up, and England takes China's index finger between his lips. Just a faint tang of blood lingers, leaving him hungry for more. Nations are born from blood, destined to spill blood. A taste for it is normal for them.
England draws the knife lightly across China's chest, just above his left nipple, eliciting a gasp, and bends down to lick up the rising fluid. China's fingers entwine in his hair, and he groans and grinds up against England's hip.
"Oh! K-keep doing that ..."
England smirks against China's nipple. "You know, if you react this strongly, it's probably a good thing you never had to nurse any of your kids." China pulls his hair sharply in retaliation, and England gasps in pain.
"I don't recall giving you permission to talk," China purrs, every inch Imperial despite his position near-naked under his knife-wielding rival. England gets the point and resumes licking, running the tip of his tongue around the nipple, then driving it into the cut, causing China to cry out. "Ah! Shit ... You're still dressed. Why?"
England puts the knife on the bedside table, sits up and tugs off his white shirt, ruined now with little dabs and smears of blood. China looks on appreciatively, the long nails of his left hand playing with his own nipple while the other hand rests on England's hip. His sleeve slides down to his elbow, exposing the untouched flesh of his arm, begging for marks. England's right hand joins China's left, while he clumsily unfastens his trousers and shoves them off.
"You like this, then?" England says, pinching sharply.
"Ah! Y-yes ... Korea likes t-to grab me there 'cause he knows I react. Little bastard."
"Yes, well, don't waste time thinking about him now." England lies back down on top of China and resumes his attentions, pressing the flat of his tongue over the nipple, licking gently around it again, then sucking hard. Blood fills his mouth as he sucks on the fresh cut.
"Mm ... bite it," China instructs. "Hard as you like." England is only too happy to oblige.
By now China's erection is jabbing insistently into his stomach, and his own is resting between China's spread thighs. He grinds down experimentally. China rolls his hips upwards and moans approvingly. England's left hand slides under China's head and strokes the nape of his neck. Another cry from China, and England grins; another sensitive spot found.
Without warning, he snatches up the knife again, and leaves a long slice along China's bare forearm. Not into the vein - he won't cut their game short. China yells in surprise, and England takes advantage and shoves his tongue into his partner's mouth. When he pulls away, China's lips are smeared with sticky red as well. China's face settles into a wicked smile.
"Good, very good," China coos, entwining his fingers in England's hair again. "Now finish what you started." He keeps up a steady tug on England's hair. England groans. He might not have a curl like the Italy boys, but hair-pulling is still a weakness of his.