England thought to unwrapped his arms from around America and removed his hands from where they clenched at his shoulders, but he hadn’t the will to do so. He only dug his fingers further into firm muscle and moved their chest closer together, though there was no room left between them. America, too, continued to stroke and massage and grip his thighs and backside; the combined sensations made his skin tingle. Thrusting and exploring until they were soundly exhausted, soon they rolled back on their sides and came together without the further stimulation of hands, just the friction of their erections moving in coordination, murmuring each other’s name.
He liked it that way, despite the warm, wetness that stuck them together and the cramp forming in the arm that lay beneath him. America sensed this and shifted his arm underneath him to take some of the pressure of their combined weight on to himself; England loved him for it. He deepened the kiss, a gesture of slow mutual affection instead of their previous shared frenzy to please and be satisfied.
It was relaxing and they both collapsed in a tangled heap, limp and completely at peace. It was declaration of their love and attachment, words alone could not express, that buzzed and thrummed from their shared movement.
“Mmmm, En’land.” He sighed. “Liked that.”
“M-meri...” England panted resting his head back against a pillow, his legs still firmly wrapped around America. He gave a breathy chuckle. “Should’ve pulled those jeans out of the closet sooner.”
“Nooo,” America whined, head pressed to England’s chest, fingers still absently massaging small circles into his thighs and ass.
“Why ever not, git?”
“D want anyone else t’see ‘em. To see you like that.” He nuzzled England’s chest. “Y’r mine.”
“Yes, yes. And, you’re mine. So, I’ll wear them just for you. But, I don’t think I’ll ever have them on very long.”
“Can’t let anyone else see ‘em on you.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, precious.”
America yawned and England shifted one of his arms out of their embrace long enough to puck the glasses from his face and rest them on the bedside table, vowing to a good washing when they woke.
The jeans might make it out of the drawer again sometime, but he doubted they would ever be on him for more than a few minutes.
Some of America’s enthusiastic groping had resulted in bruising, he was sure, as had his grasp on his shoulders, but England didn’t find that he cared.
------------
Sorry they were so talkative. I didn’t mean for half of what occurred in the meeting to happen. At all. This is more than twice as long as I had planned. This thing just kept writing itself or something.
Sometimes You Have to Lose to Win 8/8
He liked it that way, despite the warm, wetness that stuck them together and the cramp forming in the arm that lay beneath him. America sensed this and shifted his arm underneath him to take some of the pressure of their combined weight on to himself; England loved him for it. He deepened the kiss, a gesture of slow mutual affection instead of their previous shared frenzy to please and be satisfied.
It was relaxing and they both collapsed in a tangled heap, limp and completely at peace. It was declaration of their love and attachment, words alone could not express, that buzzed and thrummed from their shared movement.
“Mmmm, En’land.” He sighed. “Liked that.”
“M-meri...” England panted resting his head back against a pillow, his legs still firmly wrapped around America. He gave a breathy chuckle. “Should’ve pulled those jeans out of the closet sooner.”
“Nooo,” America whined, head pressed to England’s chest, fingers still absently massaging small circles into his thighs and ass.
“Why ever not, git?”
“D want anyone else t’see ‘em. To see you like that.” He nuzzled England’s chest. “Y’r mine.”
“Yes, yes. And, you’re mine. So, I’ll wear them just for you. But, I don’t think I’ll ever have them on very long.”
“Can’t let anyone else see ‘em on you.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, precious.”
America yawned and England shifted one of his arms out of their embrace long enough to puck the glasses from his face and rest them on the bedside table, vowing to a good washing when they woke.
The jeans might make it out of the drawer again sometime, but he doubted they would ever be on him for more than a few minutes.
Some of America’s enthusiastic groping had resulted in bruising, he was sure, as had his grasp on his shoulders, but England didn’t find that he cared.
------------
Sorry they were so talkative. I didn’t mean for half of what occurred in the meeting to happen. At all. This is more than twice as long as I had planned. This thing just kept writing itself or something.