Sleepover 1/3
anonymous
April 12 2010, 13:41:10 UTC
"Eeeeeng-laaaaaand," America called, sing-song.
England looked up from poking at his swiss miss hot chocolate (these strange American notions) and nearly spilled it all over himself.
"America!" he cried, aghast. "What are you WEARING?"
America posed uncertainly in the doorway, dressed- if one could call it that- in some frothy confection of black lace and silk, swelling invitingly from a half-sheer teddy, all long tanned smooth skin and said too-casually, "...night-clothes."
"Clothes," said England, and valiantly tried to focus on her glasses, the corner of their frames, not on the way the surprisingly demure satin boyshorts clung on to her hips, begging to be slid down her legs so slowly... "Are those your- your- underthings? Are they french"No!" said America, looking revolted. "Well, I don't know, I bought these at home but they might have been imported but France has nothing to do with these at all, AT ALL
( ... )
Sleepover 2/3
anonymous
April 12 2010, 13:43:13 UTC
She thought it was a rather good kiss, all things considered, but then England shivered and seemed to melt under her, and then he opened his mouth and kissed her back.
Which was pretty awesome, even for someone as awesome as her.She even ignored how his hands went right for her oversized butt and squeezed because it pulled her closer against him, England who was all thin and tense and wiry and smelled like tea and old stuff and was if not everything, then a huge chunk of everything that America had ever wanted, wanted all to herself for as long as she could recall.
"America," said England raggedly, ripping himself from her mouth in a totally unacceptable manner.
"Less talk more tongue," she ordered him, and his eyes blazed at that, hand pinching her side even as he obeyed and licked her throat, biting the spasm of her yelp
( ... )
Sleepover 3/3
anonymous
April 12 2010, 13:45:43 UTC
"And not fat," said England, even as he slid his hands under her top and cupped her breasts, warm and heavy in his hands, and America felt such a rush of feeling that she stuck her hand down his pants and said, "I love you," at the same time.
"America," said England again, and bucked up into her hand, burning hot, and then very firmly dragged her hand out of his pants and said "Don't be so impatient, girl."
America pouted and he kissed her, more gently this time, sweet and soft and slow, so distracting that he was easing her shorts off without her noticing until he stroked her, just as softly and she was so wet that it was easy, and she broke it off to gasp and said at the same time, "I've never-oh."
England had the sense not to say, really?, but America tried to hit him anyway when he muttered something about giving praise to puritans.
"I love you too," he offered her, and slid his fingers into her at the same time.
"We really do think alike," said America, soft and wondering while his fingers were in her and she felt like
( ... )
Re: Sleepover 3/3
anonymous
April 12 2010, 20:23:36 UTC
Oh my fucking god. :D I almost didn't click on this because I'm not fond of genderbends, but it was America, so I had to check it out. And damn am I glad, because this may be the most in character thing I've read for these two in ages. Every bit of dialogue was just perfect, and I'm too lazy to quote it any back, because then I'd have to quote it all back. :O
Good lord. I especially loved the perverted old man / heroine comments, because the scene wouldn't have been complete without them. And I think your on to something here, anon; any couple with this much UST should definitely say that first "I love you" with their hands down each other's pants. A++
As an American of English descent, I approve of their horror at French lingerie. Okay, not really, but I would if France had picked it out, anyway.
Re: Sleepover 3/3
anonymous
May 10 2010, 15:48:59 UTC
I absolutely LOVED how the fill pans over England and all the things about him that make him so England (and so sexy because of that). There are definitely too many fills on this meme that pass over his great potential to focus on America (or whoever else his partner may be). The line about him going for tea with bombs falling around him was my favourite -- I could just see the scene, him standing on a road in his scuffed uniform, the world around him exploding and his face just perfectly calm, hand in pocket. I- I think I swooned. *A* (Arrrrgh I wish my artistic ability was better so I could draw that oh-so-lovely image *sigh*)
America decides to invite herself for a slumber party at UK's house.
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England looked up from poking at his swiss miss hot chocolate (these strange American notions) and nearly spilled it all over himself.
"America!" he cried, aghast. "What are you WEARING?"
America posed uncertainly in the doorway, dressed- if one could call it that- in some frothy confection of black lace and silk, swelling invitingly from a half-sheer teddy, all long tanned smooth skin and said too-casually, "...night-clothes."
"Clothes," said England, and valiantly tried to focus on her glasses, the corner of their frames, not on the way the surprisingly demure satin boyshorts clung on to her hips, begging to be slid down her legs so slowly... "Are those your- your- underthings? Are they french"No!" said America, looking revolted. "Well, I don't know, I bought these at home but they might have been imported but France has nothing to do with these at all, AT ALL ( ... )
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Which was pretty awesome, even for someone as awesome as her.She even ignored how his hands went right for her oversized butt and squeezed because it pulled her closer against him, England who was all thin and tense and wiry and smelled like tea and old stuff and was if not everything, then a huge chunk of everything that America had ever wanted, wanted all to herself for as long as she could recall.
"America," said England raggedly, ripping himself from her mouth in a totally unacceptable manner.
"Less talk more tongue," she ordered him, and his eyes blazed at that, hand pinching her side even as he obeyed and licked her throat, biting the spasm of her yelp ( ... )
Reply
"America," said England again, and bucked up into her hand, burning hot, and then very firmly dragged her hand out of his pants and said "Don't be so impatient, girl."
America pouted and he kissed her, more gently this time, sweet and soft and slow, so distracting that he was easing her shorts off without her noticing until he stroked her, just as softly and she was so wet that it was easy, and she broke it off to gasp and said at the same time, "I've never-oh."
England had the sense not to say, really?, but America tried to hit him anyway when he muttered something about giving praise to puritans.
"I love you too," he offered her, and slid his fingers into her at the same time.
"We really do think alike," said America, soft and wondering while his fingers were in her and she felt like ( ... )
Reply
Good lord. I especially loved the perverted old man / heroine comments, because the scene wouldn't have been complete without them. And I think your on to something here, anon; any couple with this much UST should definitely say that first "I love you" with their hands down each other's pants. A++
As an American of English descent, I approve of their horror at French lingerie. Okay, not really, but I would if France had picked it out, anyway.
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That was really good. I love Fem!America to bits!! Much props to you, anon.
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But... wow. Thank you, sooo much. IC, yet... genderbent. *marvels*
But... just... Damn, was that hot.
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Someone build me a bunk. I need one.
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Thank you so much for this wonderful fill!
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