England could see it alight within the baby blue irises that glared fiercely at him from across the room. The boy was angry with him. Livid, in fact.
“ You know better than to look at me like that,” England said in a clipped tone as he retrieved his teacup and saucer from the table that lay between them.
America averted his eyes to the floor and exhaled heavily through his nose. He dug his fingers into the fraying upholstery underneath him, looking agitated. England observed him with patience, the way a snake observes a timid field mouse, poised and waiting. The silence wouldn't last long; it never did. He drew his teacup toward his thin lips and sipped. It was the third time they had argued that week. They did little else these days. In truth, England was beginning to lose his patience.
“ But it isn't fair,” America said quietly. “ My people deserve more than to –”
“ I beg your pardon?” England interrupted. America paused, mouth still hanging open.
The elder nation abruptly returned his cup to the table. In England's mind, there was nothing more final than the clink of teacup meeting saucer, the dull thud of china against wood.
“ Your people?” he continued with a hiss. “ You haven't any people, America.”
His young protégé flushed with renewed anger.
“ But I do!” he snapped, before England could continue. “ The people of the Colonies are my people. I've been here since the beginning. I've starved with them, suffered with them, fought the Natives and the French with them – I should have died a thousand times over with them! Unlike you, I've never hopped a ship and–”
“ How dare you,” England spat, “ you'll do well to hold that mutinous little tongue, lest I remove it.”
The boy's breath hitched. His red cheeks paled imperceptibly.
“ How dare you imply that we are equals, that I owe you anything. Your people, you, are nothing without the Crown – are nothing without the Empire.”
England leaned back into his seat, attempting to reign in his temper. Loosing his composure would do little good for either of them. After a few moments – when his breathing finally steadied – he continued.
“ You are still very much a child,” he said in a slow, cool undertone. “ A tender-footed little thing that has, evidently, forgotten his place. What kind of ludicrous fantasies have your people been spoon-feeding you?”
America looked like he'd been struck across the mouth. He stilled, so much so that it was difficult to tell if he was breathing, eyes unblinking and wide. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips. He opened his mouth. A small noise escaped the back of his throat, as if he was about to speak.
“ Don't,” England warned, before the boy could utter so much as a syllable. “ I'll tolerate no more of this nonsense. Drink your tea.”
America shot up from his seat, teeth bared, small hands clenched into tight, quivering fists. England expected shouting, stamping, crying – all the things he'd seen before. What happened, however, was not any of these. America leaned over the table, frigid blue eyes boring into England's own, and knocked the older nation's tea to the floor in one foul swoop. The cup shattered.
The ensuing silence was thick enough to choke a man.
England watched as the tepid brown liquid slithered along the floor, seeping into its crevices. He looked up. To America's credit, and England's astonishment, the boy did not recoil. In fact, he did not appear to be repentant at all. Grim determination was written all over his blotchy face.
“ ...I won't be a child forever.”
England rose from his seat, slowly, until he was towering over the youth. It was only then that America pulled back – only then did the likes of doubt flicker across his countenance.
“ Indeed,” England began in a dangerously low voice. “ There's so very little time to cure you of your...”
America's breath became shorter, quicker – shallow, shaky pants that undermined his attempt at stoicism.
“ … juvenile naïveté.”
England began to round the table at a painfully slow pace. China crunched under his boots, a gesture of what he thought of the little one's demonstration. America visibly paled with dread, but boldly (or stupidly) stood his ground.
“ You can't hurt me,” he said in a small voice, so quiet that England almost hadn't heard him. The older man chuckled lightly as he completed the circuit around the table. He was close enough now to see beads of sweat clinging to the boy's forehead. He tenderly brushed them away, back into America's messy golden hair. America gasped, but whether it was out of fear or something else, England didn't know. Either way, it incited him to advance.
“ Oh, no,” he said softly. “ I don't have to hurt you…”
England leaned over, hand still entangled in the other blonde's hair. Nose brushing against a sweaty temple, he crooned into America's ear:
“ …to teach you a lesson.”
America's eyes flashed with panic as he was shoved backward toward the sofa by his head. His arms flailed outward in an attempt to grab a hold of something – anything – to regain his balance. His elbow knocked against the wooden armrest of the loveseat as he landed, and he cried out in pain. The fumble allowed the larger man time enough to straddle the boy's hips and place both of his hands on either side of America's head, effectively trapping him. England knew America could shove him off – that Herculean strength of his could make things difficult – but he didn't. The boy only froze, looking up at his captor's face with a mix of shock and... anticipation? England snickered. Ah, the foolish curiosity of youth.
“ You truly haven't the faintest idea what you are asking for,” he whispered. He drew a long, pale finger lovingly along the soft curve of America's jaw. “ You know so very little about the world – just how dark it can be...”
England leaned down, lips returning to the shell of America's ear. The skin was so soft here. America's breath hitched as he neared, and a wave of prickles bathed England's skin, making his hair stand on end.
“ My dear boy,” he murmured, bottom lip trailing across the earlobe in front of him. “ Without me, this world would eat you alive.”
America whimpered pitifully. The man hovering over him felt a small, shivering hand clutch at his leg, squeezing it. England was suddenly, profoundly aware of the firm fabric of his breeches rubbing against his flesh, the humid tension where their bodies met, thigh on thigh. The ear in front of him was bright red – when America blushed, he blushed all over – and so very close. The boy could probably hear every breath, and feel it even more so. Just the thought of it made the air in England's lungs hot and heavy.
Exhaling, he dragged his fingernails deliberately down and off the velvet seat and onto America's neck. He scraped upwards along the back of it, gently, leisurely, until his long fingers met the first fine bristles of hair. They were damp with sweat now, but England didn't mind. He applied a little more pressure with his nails as he traveled upward, not enough to hurt, but just enough to –
America released a throaty groan. His free hand (the other still holding the older nation's thigh in a vice-like grip) shot up toward England's chest. At first, the taller blonde thought he would push him away, but on the contrary, he twisted his fingers into his shirt, as if to hold him in place. He could too, with ease even, England thought with wry amusement. He'd never admit it, but he was sometimes jealous of America's natural brawn.
As a reward for his new-found obedience, England continued to massage his scalp. Left hand happily occupied, he decided his right was also in need of touching something. But unfortunately, there was so very little skin available to him. Ah, that wouldn't do – he'd need to remedy that immediately. With a farewell kiss to America's ear and temple, England lowered his mouth to the boy's throat and planted feather-light kisses along it. Meanwhile, his right hand found the clasps of America's shirt and ever-so-slowly undid them, determined for the act to go unnoticed. It did; America was lost in the sensations plaguing his hair and neck – evidenced in the way his hips jerked upward at odd intervals.
Beautiful.
England lowered his head and continued his ministrations along the pale expanse of America's newly exposed chest. Eventually he found his way to a nipple, and without delay, snapped his teeth around it. America choked out a high-pitched whine. His back arched and his hips lurched forward several times in quick succession – high enough to grind his erection against England's crotch.
England's own half-hardened cock immediately swelled. That sound – oh, that sound – he wanted – no, needed – to hear it again. Blood was ringing in his ears, making him feel light-headed and dazed.
“ England,” America whispered in a desperate, pleading voice, pulling him in closer by his shirt. “ Please... please, I... I promise – I won't question you again, I–”
The older blonde felt the last vestiges of his self-control begin to slip away from him, and he attacked the boy's body with renewed vigor. He was soon mimicking the motions of the lither hips beneath him as he dragged his tongue and teeth along America's collarbone. But he was no longer content to just play.
England grabbed a handful of America's honey-colored hair, holding his head firmly in place. If he struggled, the larger blonde would simply tighten his grip.
Pain is a wonderful incentive, and an even better deterrent.
England pulled back; America's expression was one of mixed longing and confusion. Understanding dawned when England's free hand began fumbling with the buttons of his trousers.
“ I–” America began fearfully. “ England–”
“ Hush,” England commanded, voice roughened with lust, as he finally loosened the stifling confines of his pants. “ Ah–”
America retreated, as much as he could given his circumstance, and England gave his hair a small admonitory pull. The boy winced.
“ England, I can't – I mean, I've never–”
“ Hush,” England repeated, this time with a snarl. He was too far gone for niceties. “ You're going to do what you're told. You're going to learn some obedience.”
Despite his protests, America let out a small moan when the other man revealed himself to him. England quickly pulled away the flaps of his breeches and pushed his thick, aching cock down with his thumb, raising himself on his knees so that head lined up with America's mouth. More gently, he guided the boy toward it, allowing him time to get used to the idea. America complied, albeit hesitantly. His face had regained its redness with a vengeance. His lips bumped against the tip, but remained tightly shut. England let out a frustrated sigh.
“ America, if you–”
A tentative pink tongue swiped ever-so lightly over the slit. England paused, shuddering. Seeing this, America grew braver. He licked again, more confidently, curling his tongue around the head.
“ Yes, like that,” England encouraged huskily. “ Ah... such a good lad. Yes, my good lad.”
The boy mewled with pleasure at the praise. The sound – and, God above, the vibration – aroused England so rabidly that he completely lost his senses and rammed himself hard into the hot cavern of America's mouth. The boy gagged, moisture pricking in the ducts of his eyes with the force of the reflex, and England quickly withdrew. The older man swore under his breath. He hadn't intended to do that. America shook his head, batted his eyelashes to clear away the tears, and raised a hand to grip England's member and keep it firmly in place. England grunted. He didn't have time to gather his thoughts before America's slick tongue was on him once more.
He lathed him in long, teasing, torturous strokes. It was terribly maddening, but England didn't dare push him for more, not when he couldn't trust himself to behave. But, perhaps –
“ Move your hand,” England said, and he was embarrassed to note that his voice had cracked.
America looked up at him, mid-lick, confused. England's breath caught. Instead of wasting time with explanations, he wrapped his large hand over America's smaller, delicate one, and pumped himself. Pre-come swelled at the tip of England's cock, and America, to England's manic delight, sucked it out of the slit. Guttural noises began to escape England's throat unchecked. His limbs were shaking – he could feel the thrumming of his blood beneath his flesh as America began to suck it to the surface. He released his iron grip on the boy's hair, needing to feel the softness of it brush through his fingers once more. America closed his eyes and took in as much of the older man as he could, a look of flushed pleasure gracing his soft features. He sucked, following the motions of England's hand, moving his jaw and tongue back and forth along the length.
It was the needy moan America emitted when England began massaging his scalp again that sent the man over the edge. He gasped, and without warning, instinctively thrust into the boy's mouth over and over as he came in thick, stringy spurts that coated the insides of America's spasming throat. The little blonde coughed uncontrollably around him. Come dribbled out of his open lips as he gagged, even when England regained enough presence of mind to push him off. For a brief moment, a long string of the sticky white substance hung between the boy's mouth and England's still-twitching cock. The taller blonde hummed in approval as he witnessed it separate. Lovely.
“ Swallow,” he rasped.
America hesitated, but ultimately, obeyed, licking up as much of the seed as he could under England's watchful eyes. As a reward, the older nation helped him wipe the last remnants of his release off his face with his sleeve.
He looked beautiful in his thoroughly debauched state – blue eyes still hooded with desire, tousled blond hair, swollen pink lips – England couldn't help but want more. He supposed the boy had earned it, after all. The taller blonde stepped off the loveseat, tucked himself back into his breeches, and haphazardly re-buttoned them. America watched on with interest. England smirked.
“ Here, dear,” he said softly, reaching over to fetch America's teacup behind him. “ Drink this. It might be a little cold, but... at least it leaves a better aftertaste.”
America nodded and drank. England took advantage of the distraction; he re-seated himself and dragged the boy into his lap. He took the cup away and set it aside.
“ W-wait–“
England didn't allow America's little upstart to get very far. He would be difficult to control in this position without a good incentive to stay put. Luckily, there was a very good incentive right in front of him.
“ Engl–ahh!”
A long, deft hand snaked its way around America's middle and slipped under the hem of his trousers. Pleased to find a half-hardened arousal there, England gave the shaft a firm tweak with his fingers. It swelled to full hardness immediately.
“ Oh, wait, please, d–”
England interrupted him, in a teasing, lilting voice, “ whatever is the matter now? Have you not done this before?”
England, of course, already suspected he knew the answer to that. He took sole responsibility of caring for the boy on his visits, and that included cleaning his bedsheets. Wet dreams couldn't answer for every stain he found. He was, after all, on the cusp of puberty. America turned a lovely shade of crimson, yet again, which was confirmation enough. The poor boy's heart probably didn't know what to do with itself.
“ It's not – I mean – that is,” he blustered, arching his hips into England's hand despite himself. His non-sentence trailed off, ending in a futile little whimper instead.
England removed his hand from America's erection and toyed with the sensitive skin of his hips instead.
Oh, why hadn't he done this earlier? The sounds that came out of the boy's mouth now were nothing short of delectable – a constant stream of gasps and small, suffering, pleading moans. He licked slowly up America's neck and around his ear, biting down on the helix when he arrived at it. America's hands shot up and clasped behind England's neck.
“Nnngh, m-my hair, yes, please,” America cried. “ Like before.”
England laughed, breathlessly. Ah, how could he refuse? The lad asked so very nicely, after all.
Deciding that he'd tortured him enough, England returned one of his hands to America's head. The happy little sigh he released when England's fingers resumed their affections was more than worth it.
“ What else should I touch?” he purred into America's ear, removing his other hand from America's hip. It hovered pointedly over the boy's painfully hard cock.
“ Hm,” England returned, undoing the strings of America's breeches with slow, deliberate tugs. “ You won't question me again?”
“ N-no,” America choked out. “ No, please, I already said I wouldn't–”
“ I know,” England crooned, patronizing him, “ but you have such a terrible memory. I want to make sure I'm leaving an impression. A... permanent impression.”
Tears welled up in America's bright eyes. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. Nothing but a strangled little sob escaped. England gave a firm tug on his sweat-soaked hair.
“ I won't! Yes, England, I won't,” America said in a sudden, high-pitched wail.
Mollified, England licked his lips. Whether the boy was being genuine or not, only time would tell. At this moment, however, he wanted the same thing America did for completely selfish reasons. England briefly removed his fingers from smaller blond's head (to the sound of a very disappointed keen) and tugged harshly at America's pants with both his hands until they were half-way down his thighs. England dragged the tips of his nails as lightly as he could over America's trembling member.
“ Pleasepleaseplease–”
England snorted, lips curling into a feral grin. His own manhood was beginning to stir again – he'd have to finish this quickly before he got any other, much more dangerous, ideas. His left hand made the inevitable return trip to America's fringe, and his right began to rub America's cock in lengthy, measured strokes, intending to torment. America's nails dug into the back of England's neck as he cried out, and the older blonde groaned in reply, quickening his pace.
It took very little time before America was thrashing wildly in his lap, hips erratically jerking upward, as semen gushed from him in hot, flowing waves. He continued to jerk even as he finished, shaking with the force of his first orgasm brought on by another hand. England released the boy's convulsing cock, rather pleased with his work. His hand was covered in its entirety. Curious, he brought it to his lips and lapped at the come the way a cat laps at milk. America turned to look at him, and his azure eyes widened with shock at the sight of his guardian sucking his long, thin fingers clean. It made England smirk, insides churning with molten satisfaction.
“ Hm, now that wasn't so bad, was it?”
America nodded, face glowing and feverish as he averted his eyes. They rested like that, occasionally touching one another's hands, and (in England's case) America's hair. The boy almost fell asleep, head nuzzled in the crook of England's neck, still mostly naked, until the older nation, with some regret, nudged him to full awareness.
“ I believe you're scheduled to leave in half an hour – Boston, remember?” England whispered. “ I doubt you want your associates seeing you... well, in a state.”
America jumped to his feet, scrambling to do up his breeches and shirt. He examined them frantically, as if in search for evidence of his recent escapade.
England smiled slyly. “ I believe I got everything.”
The boy let out an embarrassed little squeak, tucked his shirt in, and then ran toward the elegant mahogany door at the end of the room. He stopped short and turned to look at England, not meeting his eyes.
“ I – um,” he began, fidgeting madly. “ Well, I... I–”
“ We'll discuss the currency issue later,” England said in a bored tone, waving America off as if nothing had happened. The youth nodded slowly, looking faintly lost as he shut the door behind him.
England watched the boy leave, one leg folded over the other, a wary look in his emerald eyes. For all his bravado, the Englishman knew he needed to keep a closer eye than ever on the Colonies – and not least, the boy who embodied them in flesh and bone. His eyes returned to the broken teacup.
Perhaps he should visit for tea more often.
('Enforced cuddling' translated to something like 'more porn' in my brain. Teehee, whoopsie. Anyway! Fun prompt and hope you liked, OP. ^^)
Not OP but hot damn. England's utter viciousness and America's naive eagerness combined with the archaic language used for pornographic descriptions made me fan myself from the sudden overwhelming heat.
OP had a shitty night at work at wasn't expecting this to actually get filled so. Hnng. Hi.thanks. it's not as dark as I had in my head but definitelyhits all the buttons anyway. (oh God I didn't even ask for licking clean but askhdhlkggjjf. ) enforced cuddling > more porn is fiiiiiine with me. Great fill !
Ohhh, noo D: I'm sorry you had a bad night! I'm also sorry it wasn't as dark as you wanted, but I'm happy to hear you liked it anyway! :D <3 My first fill and try at fanfiction (so I was pretty nervous! lol) Thanks OP!
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Tea for Two 1/2
(Anonymous) 2013-08-11 03:27 am (UTC)(link)Tea for Two
Warnings: UK/US NC-17 Lemon, Shotacon, Dub-con, Mild angst
Defiance.
England could see it alight within the baby blue irises that glared fiercely at him from across the room. The boy was angry with him. Livid, in fact.
“ You know better than to look at me like that,” England said in a clipped tone as he retrieved his teacup and saucer from the table that lay between them.
America averted his eyes to the floor and exhaled heavily through his nose. He dug his fingers into the fraying upholstery underneath him, looking agitated. England observed him with patience, the way a snake observes a timid field mouse, poised and waiting. The silence wouldn't last long; it never did. He drew his teacup toward his thin lips and sipped. It was the third time they had argued that week. They did little else these days. In truth, England was beginning to lose his patience.
“ But it isn't fair,” America said quietly. “ My people deserve more than to –”
“ I beg your pardon?” England interrupted. America paused, mouth still hanging open.
The elder nation abruptly returned his cup to the table. In England's mind, there was nothing more final than the clink of teacup meeting saucer, the dull thud of china against wood.
“ Your people?” he continued with a hiss. “ You haven't any people, America.”
His young protégé flushed with renewed anger.
“ But I do!” he snapped, before England could continue. “ The people of the Colonies are my people. I've been here since the beginning. I've starved with them, suffered with them, fought the Natives and the French with them – I should have died a thousand times over with them! Unlike you, I've never hopped a ship and–”
“ How dare you,” England spat, “ you'll do well to hold that mutinous little tongue, lest I remove it.”
The boy's breath hitched. His red cheeks paled imperceptibly.
“ How dare you imply that we are equals, that I owe you anything. Your people, you, are nothing without the Crown – are nothing without the Empire.”
England leaned back into his seat, attempting to reign in his temper. Loosing his composure would do little good for either of them. After a few moments – when his breathing finally steadied – he continued.
“ You are still very much a child,” he said in a slow, cool undertone. “ A tender-footed little thing that has, evidently, forgotten his place. What kind of ludicrous fantasies have your people been spoon-feeding you?”
America looked like he'd been struck across the mouth. He stilled, so much so that it was difficult to tell if he was breathing, eyes unblinking and wide. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips. He opened his mouth. A small noise escaped the back of his throat, as if he was about to speak.
“ Don't,” England warned, before the boy could utter so much as a syllable. “ I'll tolerate no more of this nonsense. Drink your tea.”
America shot up from his seat, teeth bared, small hands clenched into tight, quivering fists. England expected shouting, stamping, crying – all the things he'd seen before. What happened, however, was not any of these. America leaned over the table, frigid blue eyes boring into England's own, and knocked the older nation's tea to the floor in one foul swoop. The cup shattered.
The ensuing silence was thick enough to choke a man.
England watched as the tepid brown liquid slithered along the floor, seeping into its crevices. He looked up. To America's credit, and England's astonishment, the boy did not recoil. In fact, he did not appear to be repentant at all. Grim determination was written all over his blotchy face.
“ ...I won't be a child forever.”
England rose from his seat, slowly, until he was towering over the youth. It was only then that America pulled back – only then did the likes of doubt flicker across his countenance.
“ Indeed,” England began in a dangerously low voice. “ There's so very little time to cure you of your...”
America's breath became shorter, quicker – shallow, shaky pants that undermined his attempt at stoicism.
“ … juvenile naïveté.”
England began to round the table at a painfully slow pace. China crunched under his boots, a gesture of what he thought of the little one's demonstration. America visibly paled with dread, but boldly (or stupidly) stood his ground.
“ You can't hurt me,” he said in a small voice, so quiet that England almost hadn't heard him. The older man chuckled lightly as he completed the circuit around the table. He was close enough now to see beads of sweat clinging to the boy's forehead. He tenderly brushed them away, back into America's messy golden hair. America gasped, but whether it was out of fear or something else, England didn't know. Either way, it incited him to advance.
“ Oh, no,” he said softly. “ I don't have to hurt you…”
England leaned over, hand still entangled in the other blonde's hair. Nose brushing against a sweaty temple, he crooned into America's ear:
“ …to teach you a lesson.”
America's eyes flashed with panic as he was shoved backward toward the sofa by his head. His arms flailed outward in an attempt to grab a hold of something – anything – to regain his balance. His elbow knocked against the wooden armrest of the loveseat as he landed, and he cried out in pain. The fumble allowed the larger man time enough to straddle the boy's hips and place both of his hands on either side of America's head, effectively trapping him. England knew America could shove him off – that Herculean strength of his could make things difficult – but he didn't. The boy only froze, looking up at his captor's face with a mix of shock and... anticipation? England snickered. Ah, the foolish curiosity of youth.
“ You truly haven't the faintest idea what you are asking for,” he whispered. He drew a long, pale finger lovingly along the soft curve of America's jaw. “ You know so very little about the world – just how dark it can be...”
England leaned down, lips returning to the shell of America's ear. The skin was so soft here. America's breath hitched as he neared, and a wave of prickles bathed England's skin, making his hair stand on end.
“ My dear boy,” he murmured, bottom lip trailing across the earlobe in front of him. “ Without me, this world would eat you alive.”
Re: Tea for Two 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-08-11 03:35 am (UTC)(link)Exhaling, he dragged his fingernails deliberately down and off the velvet seat and onto America's neck. He scraped upwards along the back of it, gently, leisurely, until his long fingers met the first fine bristles of hair. They were damp with sweat now, but England didn't mind. He applied a little more pressure with his nails as he traveled upward, not enough to hurt, but just enough to –
America released a throaty groan. His free hand (the other still holding the older nation's thigh in a vice-like grip) shot up toward England's chest. At first, the taller blonde thought he would push him away, but on the contrary, he twisted his fingers into his shirt, as if to hold him in place. He could too, with ease even, England thought with wry amusement. He'd never admit it, but he was sometimes jealous of America's natural brawn.
As a reward for his new-found obedience, England continued to massage his scalp. Left hand happily occupied, he decided his right was also in need of touching something. But unfortunately, there was so very little skin available to him. Ah, that wouldn't do – he'd need to remedy that immediately. With a farewell kiss to America's ear and temple, England lowered his mouth to the boy's throat and planted feather-light kisses along it. Meanwhile, his right hand found the clasps of America's shirt and ever-so-slowly undid them, determined for the act to go unnoticed. It did; America was lost in the sensations plaguing his hair and neck – evidenced in the way his hips jerked upward at odd intervals.
Beautiful.
England lowered his head and continued his ministrations along the pale expanse of America's newly exposed chest. Eventually he found his way to a nipple, and without delay, snapped his teeth around it. America choked out a high-pitched whine. His back arched and his hips lurched forward several times in quick succession – high enough to grind his erection against England's crotch.
England's own half-hardened cock immediately swelled. That sound – oh, that sound – he wanted – no, needed – to hear it again. Blood was ringing in his ears, making him feel light-headed and dazed.
“ England,” America whispered in a desperate, pleading voice, pulling him in closer by his shirt. “ Please... please, I... I promise – I won't question you again, I–”
The older blonde felt the last vestiges of his self-control begin to slip away from him, and he attacked the boy's body with renewed vigor. He was soon mimicking the motions of the lither hips beneath him as he dragged his tongue and teeth along America's collarbone. But he was no longer content to just play.
England grabbed a handful of America's honey-colored hair, holding his head firmly in place. If he struggled, the larger blonde would simply tighten his grip.
Pain is a wonderful incentive, and an even better deterrent.
England pulled back; America's expression was one of mixed longing and confusion. Understanding dawned when England's free hand began fumbling with the buttons of his trousers.
“ I–” America began fearfully. “ England–”
“ Hush,” England commanded, voice roughened with lust, as he finally loosened the stifling confines of his pants. “ Ah–”
America retreated, as much as he could given his circumstance, and England gave his hair a small admonitory pull. The boy winced.
“ England, I can't – I mean, I've never–”
“ Hush,” England repeated, this time with a snarl. He was too far gone for niceties. “ You're going to do what you're told. You're going to learn some obedience.”
Despite his protests, America let out a small moan when the other man revealed himself to him. England quickly pulled away the flaps of his breeches and pushed his thick, aching cock down with his thumb, raising himself on his knees so that head lined up with America's mouth. More gently, he guided the boy toward it, allowing him time to get used to the idea. America complied, albeit hesitantly. His face had regained its redness with a vengeance. His lips bumped against the tip, but remained tightly shut. England let out a frustrated sigh.
“ America, if you–”
A tentative pink tongue swiped ever-so lightly over the slit. England paused, shuddering. Seeing this, America grew braver. He licked again, more confidently, curling his tongue around the head.
“ Yes, like that,” England encouraged huskily. “ Ah... such a good lad. Yes, my good lad.”
The boy mewled with pleasure at the praise. The sound – and, God above, the vibration – aroused England so rabidly that he completely lost his senses and rammed himself hard into the hot cavern of America's mouth. The boy gagged, moisture pricking in the ducts of his eyes with the force of the reflex, and England quickly withdrew. The older man swore under his breath. He hadn't intended to do that. America shook his head, batted his eyelashes to clear away the tears, and raised a hand to grip England's member and keep it firmly in place. England grunted. He didn't have time to gather his thoughts before America's slick tongue was on him once more.
He lathed him in long, teasing, torturous strokes. It was terribly maddening, but England didn't dare push him for more, not when he couldn't trust himself to behave. But, perhaps –
“ Move your hand,” England said, and he was embarrassed to note that his voice had cracked.
America looked up at him, mid-lick, confused. England's breath caught. Instead of wasting time with explanations, he wrapped his large hand over America's smaller, delicate one, and pumped himself. Pre-come swelled at the tip of England's cock, and America, to England's manic delight, sucked it out of the slit. Guttural noises began to escape England's throat unchecked. His limbs were shaking – he could feel the thrumming of his blood beneath his flesh as America began to suck it to the surface. He released his iron grip on the boy's hair, needing to feel the softness of it brush through his fingers once more. America closed his eyes and took in as much of the older man as he could, a look of flushed pleasure gracing his soft features. He sucked, following the motions of England's hand, moving his jaw and tongue back and forth along the length.
It was the needy moan America emitted when England began massaging his scalp again that sent the man over the edge. He gasped, and without warning, instinctively thrust into the boy's mouth over and over as he came in thick, stringy spurts that coated the insides of America's spasming throat. The little blonde coughed uncontrollably around him. Come dribbled out of his open lips as he gagged, even when England regained enough presence of mind to push him off. For a brief moment, a long string of the sticky white substance hung between the boy's mouth and England's still-twitching cock. The taller blonde hummed in approval as he witnessed it separate. Lovely.
“ Swallow,” he rasped.
America hesitated, but ultimately, obeyed, licking up as much of the seed as he could under England's watchful eyes. As a reward, the older nation helped him wipe the last remnants of his release off his face with his sleeve.
He looked beautiful in his thoroughly debauched state – blue eyes still hooded with desire, tousled blond hair, swollen pink lips – England couldn't help but want more. He supposed the boy had earned it, after all. The taller blonde stepped off the loveseat, tucked himself back into his breeches, and haphazardly re-buttoned them. America watched on with interest. England smirked.
“ Here, dear,” he said softly, reaching over to fetch America's teacup behind him. “ Drink this. It might be a little cold, but... at least it leaves a better aftertaste.”
America nodded and drank. England took advantage of the distraction; he re-seated himself and dragged the boy into his lap. He took the cup away and set it aside.
“ W-wait–“
England didn't allow America's little upstart to get very far. He would be difficult to control in this position without a good incentive to stay put. Luckily, there was a very good incentive right in front of him.
“ Engl–ahh!”
A long, deft hand snaked its way around America's middle and slipped under the hem of his trousers. Pleased to find a half-hardened arousal there, England gave the shaft a firm tweak with his fingers. It swelled to full hardness immediately.
“ Oh, wait, please, d–”
England interrupted him, in a teasing, lilting voice, “ whatever is the matter now? Have you not done this before?”
England, of course, already suspected he knew the answer to that. He took sole responsibility of caring for the boy on his visits, and that included cleaning his bedsheets. Wet dreams couldn't answer for every stain he found. He was, after all, on the cusp of puberty. America turned a lovely shade of crimson, yet again, which was confirmation enough. The poor boy's heart probably didn't know what to do with itself.
“ It's not – I mean – that is,” he blustered, arching his hips into England's hand despite himself. His non-sentence trailed off, ending in a futile little whimper instead.
England removed his hand from America's erection and toyed with the sensitive skin of his hips instead.
Oh, why hadn't he done this earlier? The sounds that came out of the boy's mouth now were nothing short of delectable – a constant stream of gasps and small, suffering, pleading moans. He licked slowly up America's neck and around his ear, biting down on the helix when he arrived at it. America's hands shot up and clasped behind England's neck.
“Nnngh, m-my hair, yes, please,” America cried. “ Like before.”
England laughed, breathlessly. Ah, how could he refuse? The lad asked so very nicely, after all.
Deciding that he'd tortured him enough, England returned one of his hands to America's head. The happy little sigh he released when England's fingers resumed their affections was more than worth it.
“ What else should I touch?” he purred into America's ear, removing his other hand from America's hip. It hovered pointedly over the boy's painfully hard cock.
“ Should I?” England continued.
America nodded vigorously. “ Yes, yes – t-touch me. There. Oh, pleasepleaseplease.”
“ Hm,” England returned, undoing the strings of America's breeches with slow, deliberate tugs. “ You won't question me again?”
“ N-no,” America choked out. “ No, please, I already said I wouldn't–”
“ I know,” England crooned, patronizing him, “ but you have such a terrible memory. I want to make sure I'm leaving an impression. A... permanent impression.”
Tears welled up in America's bright eyes. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. Nothing but a strangled little sob escaped. England gave a firm tug on his sweat-soaked hair.
“ I won't! Yes, England, I won't,” America said in a sudden, high-pitched wail.
Mollified, England licked his lips. Whether the boy was being genuine or not, only time would tell. At this moment, however, he wanted the same thing America did for completely selfish reasons. England briefly removed his fingers from smaller blond's head (to the sound of a very disappointed keen) and tugged harshly at America's pants with both his hands until they were half-way down his thighs. England dragged the tips of his nails as lightly as he could over America's trembling member.
“ Pleasepleaseplease–”
England snorted, lips curling into a feral grin. His own manhood was beginning to stir again – he'd have to finish this quickly before he got any other, much more dangerous, ideas. His left hand made the inevitable return trip to America's fringe, and his right began to rub America's cock in lengthy, measured strokes, intending to torment. America's nails dug into the back of England's neck as he cried out, and the older blonde groaned in reply, quickening his pace.
It took very little time before America was thrashing wildly in his lap, hips erratically jerking upward, as semen gushed from him in hot, flowing waves. He continued to jerk even as he finished, shaking with the force of his first orgasm brought on by another hand. England released the boy's convulsing cock, rather pleased with his work. His hand was covered in its entirety. Curious, he brought it to his lips and lapped at the come the way a cat laps at milk. America turned to look at him, and his azure eyes widened with shock at the sight of his guardian sucking his long, thin fingers clean. It made England smirk, insides churning with molten satisfaction.
“ Hm, now that wasn't so bad, was it?”
America nodded, face glowing and feverish as he averted his eyes. They rested like that, occasionally touching one another's hands, and (in England's case) America's hair. The boy almost fell asleep, head nuzzled in the crook of England's neck, still mostly naked, until the older nation, with some regret, nudged him to full awareness.
“ I believe you're scheduled to leave in half an hour – Boston, remember?” England whispered. “ I doubt you want your associates seeing you... well, in a state.”
America jumped to his feet, scrambling to do up his breeches and shirt. He examined them frantically, as if in search for evidence of his recent escapade.
England smiled slyly. “ I believe I got everything.”
The boy let out an embarrassed little squeak, tucked his shirt in, and then ran toward the elegant mahogany door at the end of the room. He stopped short and turned to look at England, not meeting his eyes.
“ I – um,” he began, fidgeting madly. “ Well, I... I–”
“ We'll discuss the currency issue later,” England said in a bored tone, waving America off as if nothing had happened. The youth nodded slowly, looking faintly lost as he shut the door behind him.
England watched the boy leave, one leg folded over the other, a wary look in his emerald eyes. For all his bravado, the Englishman knew he needed to keep a closer eye than ever on the Colonies – and not least, the boy who embodied them in flesh and bone. His eyes returned to the broken teacup.
Perhaps he should visit for tea more often.
('Enforced cuddling' translated to something like 'more porn' in my brain. Teehee, whoopsie. Anyway! Fun prompt and hope you liked, OP. ^^)
Re: Tea for Two 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-08-11 03:55 am (UTC)(link)Extra points for America's hair kink.
Re: Tea for Two 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-08-12 01:53 am (UTC)(link)Re: Tea for Two 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-08-11 04:42 am (UTC)(link)Re: Tea for Two 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-08-12 01:59 am (UTC)(link)Re: Tea for Two 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-09-01 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Tea for Two 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-09-24 11:58 am (UTC)(link)Re: Tea for Two 2/2
(Anonymous) 2016-06-26 07:21 am (UTC)(link)Bonus points in my book for showing me that i've got a hair kink like America whoops.