Warning: This fic will probably be a mixture of light and, uh, weird. I’m not writing the whole war, just bits and pieces, thank goodness. And the fic will, at times, portray native Americans as adversaries, but I will attempt to be historically accurate and fair, because I believe the Europeans and Americans pretty much screwed them.
War and Things Like It, Part 1/?
June, 1756England had come back. Boys were running through the streets of New York, whooping and hollering that white sails had been spotted, Milord Generals had come! Girls followed the boys in twos and threes, giggling and waving their hand-sewed Ensigns and chattering excitedly about the impending arrival of so many young men in red coats
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 9/?)
anonymous
November 14 2010, 21:30:00 UTC
Thanks so much, so much for reading and commenting. I tried so hard with that UST, and I'm really happy if it worked, hee. Here, it's some RST. Un-beta-read; please feel free to point out any errors or suckiness.
War and Things Like It, Part 9/?
September, 1760
“Come now, England. You are gaining all of North America except for New Orleans. Allow us the honneur de guerre, at least. Let us carry our colors and arms as we take our leave of you.”
As he spoke, France looked tired to America’s eyes, a little scuffed and bruised. Still, he was France, and somehow he managed to be more perfectly tailored and elegant than anyone else in the room, even as he begged for better surrender terms
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 10/?)
anonymous
November 14 2010, 21:30:43 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 10/?
England sputtered at the closed door for a few moments, then whipped around to glare at America.
“I’ve fought for years to keep him from your borders - my borders. He is the one who offers me an insult. Fucking France.”
America attempted a small grin. He played with his fingers in his lap, wondering why England was so… jealous. He was totally blind in some ways. It was like all of America’s attempts to show England how much he… wanted to remain allied with him just got lost in the fighting.
Or perhaps England had been ignoring them on purpose, like the way he’d avoided sharing winter quarters in Quebec. He still saw America, but not yet as an equal. And as a colony, America could not initiate such… relations. He needed England to show him the way, to let him know unequivocally that it was okay. England would probably never do it, though, and America would remain tense and frustrated forever
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 11/?)
anonymous
November 14 2010, 21:31:14 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 11/?
America stood, slowly. England stepped around the table and clasped America’s shoulders. It was the most England had touched him in months and months and months, and America’s heart stopped, then started, with a painful jerk. England looked him directly in the eye and said in his hearty, ‘German King George’ voice, “Take care, America. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” America whispered. He kept his hands firmly at his sides, trying not to betray anything by the crazy twitching of his fingers.
“Well done,” England said, and kissed America on one cheek, and then the other. He had warm lips and-
There, it had appeared out of nowhere: England’s move, America’s moment. He grabbed England’s heavy, scratchy, wool- and silver-trim-lapels and shoved his own lips forward against England’s. England’s mouth didn’t move but America didn’t care; he kissed him as fervently, as passionately as he could, trying to make sure England could not possibly misunderstand him
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 12/?)
anonymous
November 14 2010, 21:31:53 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 12/?
After a while England became more forceful and America let him, because it felt even better. He stumbled back a step or two and felt his ass hit the edge of the table. So he leaned on it, and then there was the hard table on one side and England on the other and America, sandwiched between them, was made of one big, acute nerve dying for more touch, especially down there. America clenched his thighs around one of England’s legs, arching his hips back and forth, rubbing his ache-iest spots until the tightness in his crotch only grew worse. England was hard, too, like he was; America could feel it on his knee
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 13/?)
anonymous
November 14 2010, 21:35:29 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 13/?
England chuckled against the back of America’s head, and America felt something - England’s fingers? - nudging inside him. It was weird and yet so intimate; good thing it was England, and not anybody else.
“Lean forward and hold onto the table,” England told him.
“Yes, sir,” America said, trying to sound jaunty, but ashamed at the shakiness in his voice. It was all right, though, because England’s warm skin was pressed against him, soft and yet hard, because England’s cock was hard like his. America felt it when England’s fingers spread his buttocks and pushed his cock inside him.
“Ah-” America said, almost coughing. “That’s- man.”
“Relax. Shh,” England whispered. His fingers trailed up and down America’s hips, distracting him with their fine attention. England pushed into America and pulled his hips back at the same time until America was full, like he had to go, but it wasn’t really unpleasant. It just made him catch his breath until his head spun like he had air bubbles in his brain-box
( ... )
Re: War and Things Like It (Part 13/?)
anonymous
November 14 2010, 22:36:22 UTC
I was bookmarking this and when the title box showed up I found myself typing,
WHY IS THIS SO AWESOME
no. seriously.
8'D wonderful wonderful stuff you have here, I love all the little details in describing the characters' actions and state of mind. Like Canada being unsure whether to stand or sit lol, and England (big br- empire) and America, 'what does it look like I'm doing' 8D dialogue is just brilliant too.
Re: War and Things Like It (Part 13/?)
anonymous
November 15 2010, 08:34:23 UTC
Ahhh, I love this. I'm at a loss for words. ♥ Also, something about your writing feels familiar to me, but it might just be me hoping I'm more clever than I am.
Re: War and Things Like It (Part 13/?)
anonymous
November 15 2010, 09:32:17 UTC
Oh wow, I'm so glad that I decided to pick this up because this is AMAZING. I love your writing style and the delicious UST. And the last part was so hot, even if it didn't happen yet! Happily awaiting updates from this!
War and Things Like It (Part 14/18)
anonymous
November 21 2010, 17:29:59 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 14/18England could be so … so imperious, sometimes. And cranky and fussy. But he had a whole ‘nother side to him, one that would sometimes break out in a fond smile, especially when he thought America wasn’t looking. It was the same one that always remembered, when he visited, to bring good presents alongside the icky presents
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 15/18)
anonymous
November 21 2010, 17:31:06 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 15/18
“What? Why don’t you just tell me?” America said. He pulled at the scratchy wool and silver trim on the shoulders of England’s coat.
Thus it was England’s turn to be put on the spot. It might have been America’s imagination, but it seemed England’s scalp reddened beneath his fair hair. When he stood, however, he seemed unfazed. His eyes were half-closed; it was a very tender look that sort of melted America’s leg-bones..
“It doesn’t need to be said,” England told him. “Here - I shall show you something.”
“Huh?”
But England was running his hands up and down America’s sides, tracing his ribs, his nipples, and he kissed the tip of America’s nose, his lips, his chin, his Adam’s apple. Then he seemed to bend his knees or something, kneeling until his face was- ”Oh, God.” America realized belatedly that he’d said that last aloud.
“Still yourself, lad,” England said.
There was no way America could possibly be still, not when England’s breath was on his cock, then - hell - his lips. One of America’s
( ... )
War and Things Like It (Part 16/18)
anonymous
November 21 2010, 17:32:46 UTC
War and Things Like It, Part 16/18
America shivered a little, then realized he was naked except for his gaiters. England, on the other hand, still wore everything he’d come in wearing except his coat, though he seemed in a hurry to change that. America started unbuttoning things, wanting to participate in the ritual of reducing England to skin.
It was funny: when he wasn’t ordering people around or shooting things, England didn’t look that much older than America. He was thinner, but then he had said that Mister Pitt had spent him into a deficit. His cock looked comparable to America’s, at least. It was hard to judge, though, with America’s all limp and spent
( ... )
Warning: This fic will probably be a mixture of light and, uh, weird. I’m not writing the whole war, just bits and pieces, thank goodness. And the fic will, at times, portray native Americans as adversaries, but I will attempt to be historically accurate and fair, because I believe the Europeans and Americans pretty much screwed them.
War and Things Like It, Part 1/?
June, 1756England had come back. Boys were running through the streets of New York, whooping and hollering that white sails had been spotted, Milord Generals had come! Girls followed the boys in twos and threes, giggling and waving their hand-sewed Ensigns and chattering excitedly about the impending arrival of so many young men in red coats ( ... )
Reply
War and Things Like It, Part 9/?
September, 1760
“Come now, England. You are gaining all of North America except for New Orleans. Allow us the honneur de guerre, at least. Let us carry our colors and arms as we take our leave of you.”
As he spoke, France looked tired to America’s eyes, a little scuffed and bruised. Still, he was France, and somehow he managed to be more perfectly tailored and elegant than anyone else in the room, even as he begged for better surrender terms ( ... )
Reply
England sputtered at the closed door for a few moments, then whipped around to glare at America.
“I’ve fought for years to keep him from your borders - my borders. He is the one who offers me an insult. Fucking France.”
America attempted a small grin. He played with his fingers in his lap, wondering why England was so… jealous. He was totally blind in some ways. It was like all of America’s attempts to show England how much he… wanted to remain allied with him just got lost in the fighting.
Or perhaps England had been ignoring them on purpose, like the way he’d avoided sharing winter quarters in Quebec. He still saw America, but not yet as an equal. And as a colony, America could not initiate such… relations. He needed England to show him the way, to let him know unequivocally that it was okay. England would probably never do it, though, and America would remain tense and frustrated forever ( ... )
Reply
America stood, slowly. England stepped around the table and clasped America’s shoulders. It was the most England had touched him in months and months and months, and America’s heart stopped, then started, with a painful jerk. England looked him directly in the eye and said in his hearty, ‘German King George’ voice, “Take care, America. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” America whispered. He kept his hands firmly at his sides, trying not to betray anything by the crazy twitching of his fingers.
“Well done,” England said, and kissed America on one cheek, and then the other. He had warm lips and-
There, it had appeared out of nowhere: England’s move, America’s moment. He grabbed England’s heavy, scratchy, wool- and silver-trim-lapels and shoved his own lips forward against England’s. England’s mouth didn’t move but America didn’t care; he kissed him as fervently, as passionately as he could, trying to make sure England could not possibly misunderstand him ( ... )
Reply
After a while England became more forceful and America let him, because it felt even better. He stumbled back a step or two and felt his ass hit the edge of the table. So he leaned on it, and then there was the hard table on one side and England on the other and America, sandwiched between them, was made of one big, acute nerve dying for more touch, especially down there. America clenched his thighs around one of England’s legs, arching his hips back and forth, rubbing his ache-iest spots until the tightness in his crotch only grew worse. England was hard, too, like he was; America could feel it on his knee ( ... )
Reply
England chuckled against the back of America’s head, and America felt something - England’s fingers? - nudging inside him. It was weird and yet so intimate; good thing it was England, and not anybody else.
“Lean forward and hold onto the table,” England told him.
“Yes, sir,” America said, trying to sound jaunty, but ashamed at the shakiness in his voice. It was all right, though, because England’s warm skin was pressed against him, soft and yet hard, because England’s cock was hard like his. America felt it when England’s fingers spread his buttocks and pushed his cock inside him.
“Ah-” America said, almost coughing. “That’s- man.”
“Relax. Shh,” England whispered. His fingers trailed up and down America’s hips, distracting him with their fine attention. England pushed into America and pulled his hips back at the same time until America was full, like he had to go, but it wasn’t really unpleasant. It just made him catch his breath until his head spun like he had air bubbles in his brain-box ( ... )
Reply
Reply
WHY IS THIS SO AWESOME
no. seriously.
8'D wonderful wonderful stuff you have here, I love all the little details in describing the characters' actions and state of mind. Like Canada being unsure whether to stand or sit lol, and England (big br- empire) and America, 'what does it look like I'm doing' 8D dialogue is just brilliant too.
JUST FRICKIN' FANTASTIC /o/ HUZZAH-!
Reply
'What’s it look like'
8'D sorry about that.
Reply
I'm finishing up this weekend and hope to get it up soon... thanks to everyone for your comments!
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
“What? Why don’t you just tell me?” America said. He pulled at the scratchy wool and silver trim on the shoulders of England’s coat.
Thus it was England’s turn to be put on the spot. It might have been America’s imagination, but it seemed England’s scalp reddened beneath his fair hair. When he stood, however, he seemed unfazed. His eyes were half-closed; it was a very tender look that sort of melted America’s leg-bones..
“It doesn’t need to be said,” England told him. “Here - I shall show you something.”
“Huh?”
But England was running his hands up and down America’s sides, tracing his ribs, his nipples, and he kissed the tip of America’s nose, his lips, his chin, his Adam’s apple. Then he seemed to bend his knees or something, kneeling until his face was- ”Oh, God.” America realized belatedly that he’d said that last aloud.
“Still yourself, lad,” England said.
There was no way America could possibly be still, not when England’s breath was on his cock, then - hell - his lips. One of America’s ( ... )
Reply
America shivered a little, then realized he was naked except for his gaiters. England, on the other hand, still wore everything he’d come in wearing except his coat, though he seemed in a hurry to change that. America started unbuttoning things, wanting to participate in the ritual of reducing England to skin.
It was funny: when he wasn’t ordering people around or shooting things, England didn’t look that much older than America. He was thinner, but then he had said that Mister Pitt had spent him into a deficit. His cock looked comparable to America’s, at least. It was hard to judge, though, with America’s all limp and spent ( ... )
Reply
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