America and England - Wetdreams & Frottage.
anonymous
November 17 2010, 16:06:09 UTC
*Ahem* Oh man i'm such a perv.....
America and England are sharing a bed, for whatever reason the author wishes to give. Where the bed is, is also up to anon (eithers house, at a hotel due to a world meeting etc, i don't mind at all.) They aren't in a relationship. They do have feelings for one another, but they are choosing to ignore them/too scared to speak out/don't know how the other feels etc.
During the night they both end up having wet dreams about each other and wake up in the morning tangled in one anothers limps in a very sticky mess. I'd like to see how they both react to this in the morning and if it pushes them into confessing etc.
Details of each dream would be very much appreciated!!
Bonus 1 - They end up frotting each other in their sleep as their dreams progress.
Bonus 2 - One of them wakes up after their orgasm and witnesses the other in the midst of their dream and hears them saying their name.
And Then, And Then [1a/3]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 12:58:33 UTC
{A/N: So I'm a horrible writer!anon (and anon in general). But here's the first part.}
In the end, I decided to blame everything on Stacy London and Clinton Kelly.
I mean, why not? If it wasn’t for them, their show, and a strangely well-timed spontaneous visit to England’s house in the middle of a What Not To Wear marathon, I wouldn’t have figured out that he liked it with the fire of a thousand dime novel heroines’ undying love for their rugged mountain men or counts or brigands or what have yous. Also, if it wasn’t for them and their impeccable fashion advice, I wouldn’t have gotten the perfect opportunity to take England on a random shopping trip around New York City, and we wouldn’t both be currently nodding off to an all weekend marathon of America’s Next Top Model on Oxygen (it was either that or The History of Sex on the History Channel, and I did not want to open that can of worms tonight).
Obviously, we’re both secretly middle-aged housewives. But that’s beside the point.
The point is that we were both in various states
( ... )
Re: America and England - Wetdreams & Frottage.
anonymous
November 21 2010, 13:02:33 UTC
I stepped into the three hundred sixty degree mirror and closed the door behind me. There weren’t any cameras peering over the top of the walls like I thought there would be, but I was wearing something I most certainly did not own - a tiny pink polyester dress, a short purple and red plaid jacket, and chunky cork wedge heels. I wasn’t wearing my glasses, which was the oddest thing to me
( ... )
And Then, And Then [1c/3]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 13:06:46 UTC
He pulled me over him, let me hover and we were both bare and my mouth did what it wished and danced over his face and his empty scarred body. A hum and a deep throat moan was his response. His eyes snapped open with a click, and I looked up at them with heavy eyelids and they flashed back at me. I crawled up to his face and mirror bright irises glinted my face back up at me, and I had to close my eyes and press my forehead against his, it was too, too much. He kissed me, and I crumpled in
( ... )
Re: And Then, And Then [1c/3]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 13:22:30 UTC
Anon, why so damn awesome? That dream was actually cracky and dream-like enough to seem real, and I love how Alfred's thoughts bound all over the place like an over-excited puppy. And damn but that boy should learn when to keep his mouth shut. XDDDD And I love how you managed to sneak in Alfred not noticing Arthur's overture / attempt to be nice to him with the pillow thing. <3
... Stacy and Clinton and shopping sprees, oh my! I'd ask if they've noticed how gay they are, but clearly they have. XD
Re: And Then, And Then [1c/3]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 13:59:28 UTC
oh, Author!Anon, this is GLORIOUS. you are MOST definitely not a fail.
I love your writing style; so much so it left me speechless. I can feel the obssesion, the crush America has on England, the passion. and I love how the surreality of the dream was incorporated.
And Then, And Then [2a/3]
anonymous
November 22 2010, 05:50:37 UTC
{A/N: Thanks for the comments, guys! Glad to see people are enjoying this <3}
It never occurred to me that I might one day be falling asleep to the sounds of America’s Next Top Model with America using my chest as a pillow, snoring like the giant lug he was. I’d lost track of what was happening on the television, halfway sleep while Tyra Banks was busy being incredibly vain. Only after my eyes stayed closed through an entire commercial break did I realize I’d have to turn off the television or risk leaving it on all night
( ... )
And Then, And Then [2b/3]
anonymous
November 22 2010, 05:52:53 UTC
America had forced me into the dressing room with something that had too many buckles and strips of fabric to be called just one pair of trousers. Honestly, you could make another pair out of all the extra material. I contemplated it for a second, and envisioned trousers made entirely out of fabric strips and buckles and chains
( ... )
And Then, And Then [2c/3]
anonymous
November 22 2010, 05:57:02 UTC
“Tell me you want me,” he demanded. I shook my head. I wouldn’t, couldn’t or he would win and I’d be his without him ever being mine. His palm pushed against the crotch of my trousers and I rocked up into the unmoving pressure.
“Tell me what you want,” he purred, too close with hot breath on my ear, “and I’ll give it to you.” I couldn’t speak, and it was America’s fault. He was kissing me again and tugging me down into a wash of slow, pleasant, not fast enough, not enough.
When he leaned back, he pulled a moan from me, and it sounded like You. Probably was. Didn’t matter, America’s hands were on me, rough and pretty. Wood at my back, and it was harder than I’d imagined being with America, but it was America. All forgiven.
I remembered I was wearing trousers when the chains on them clinked as America tugged the zipper down. He didn’t do anything else, though, and I squirmed. He started talking into my skin, always talking, and I didn’t catch a word of it.
He had me, property of the USA, stamped by his mouth and blue blue eyes and
( ... )
And Then, And Then [2d/3]
anonymous
November 22 2010, 06:03:37 UTC
We were on our sides, and something between us, thin but there. I gripped harder and it was a hip, and I could feel America’s breathing on my face. Smelled like he would taste, with mint toothpaste making it sharp
( ... )
Re: And Then, And Then [2d/3]
anonymous
November 22 2010, 06:44:23 UTC
I was going to leave a coherent semi-coherent review -- one can only do so much after reading something so hot -- but then I read this line: Were we this in denial?
America and England are sharing a bed, for whatever reason the author wishes to give. Where the bed is, is also up to anon (eithers house, at a hotel due to a world meeting etc, i don't mind at all.) They aren't in a relationship. They do have feelings for one another, but they are choosing to ignore them/too scared to speak out/don't know how the other feels etc.
During the night they both end up having wet dreams about each other and wake up in the morning tangled in one anothers limps in a very sticky mess. I'd like to see how they both react to this in the morning and if it pushes them into confessing etc.
Details of each dream would be very much appreciated!!
Bonus 1 - They end up frotting each other in their sleep as their dreams progress.
Bonus 2 - One of them wakes up after their orgasm and witnesses the other in the midst of their dream and hears them saying their name.
Reply
In the end, I decided to blame everything on Stacy London and Clinton Kelly.
I mean, why not? If it wasn’t for them, their show, and a strangely well-timed spontaneous visit to England’s house in the middle of a What Not To Wear marathon, I wouldn’t have figured out that he liked it with the fire of a thousand dime novel heroines’ undying love for their rugged mountain men or counts or brigands or what have yous. Also, if it wasn’t for them and their impeccable fashion advice, I wouldn’t have gotten the perfect opportunity to take England on a random shopping trip around New York City, and we wouldn’t both be currently nodding off to an all weekend marathon of America’s Next Top Model on Oxygen (it was either that or The History of Sex on the History Channel, and I did not want to open that can of worms tonight).
Obviously, we’re both secretly middle-aged housewives. But that’s beside the point.
The point is that we were both in various states ( ... )
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... Stacy and Clinton and shopping sprees, oh my! I'd ask if they've noticed how gay they are, but clearly they have. XD
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I love your writing style; so much so it left me speechless. I can feel the obssesion, the crush America has on England, the passion. and I love how the surreality of the dream was incorporated.
looking forward to the continuation ^^
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I want MOAR!
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It never occurred to me that I might one day be falling asleep to the sounds of America’s Next Top Model with America using my chest as a pillow, snoring like the giant lug he was. I’d lost track of what was happening on the television, halfway sleep while Tyra Banks was busy being incredibly vain. Only after my eyes stayed closed through an entire commercial break did I realize I’d have to turn off the television or risk leaving it on all night ( ... )
Reply
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“Tell me what you want,” he purred, too close with hot breath on my ear, “and I’ll give it to you.” I couldn’t speak, and it was America’s fault. He was kissing me again and tugging me down into a wash of slow, pleasant, not fast enough, not enough.
When he leaned back, he pulled a moan from me, and it sounded like You. Probably was. Didn’t matter, America’s hands were on me, rough and pretty. Wood at my back, and it was harder than I’d imagined being with America, but it was America. All forgiven.
I remembered I was wearing trousers when the chains on them clinked as America tugged the zipper down. He didn’t do anything else, though, and I squirmed. He started talking into my skin, always talking, and I didn’t catch a word of it.
He had me, property of the USA, stamped by his mouth and blue blue eyes and ( ... )
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NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
Maybe I can be coherent when I stop laughing. <3
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And hot. Mmmyes, very, very hot. WIll it be continues? Or is that the end of the prompt? =u=
Captcha: Gilbert's Gravort. Well no idea what gravort is, but there definitely needs to be more Gilbert watching What not to Wear marathons
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And I love the bit about Arthur playing with Alfred's hair. He really is the type to do that and it's so sweet.^^
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