This isn't quite finished, there's still some fluff to get through - which I guess I'll intend to be aftercare vanilla smut, because that seems like the direction I'll take this - so, I'll put it up in two parts. Er, note, this is my *third* attempt at smut.
Location, Location, Location [1a/2]
anonymous
September 1 2011, 10:53:03 UTC
Real estate, now that England thinks about it, has something absolutely right: it’s all about location. If it wasn’t all about location, then this probably wouldn’t count as something new, and even then, he’d been a bit dubious.
A sauna? Okay, and?
What’s your point, America, he’d said. Because a simple change of location shouldn’t change things this much. Because getting pinned in America’s bed, in his bed, on the couch, in a car, hell - in a public toilet, is the same as getting pinned just about anywhere else. If we’re drawing parallels, maybe the breakfast table; horizontal, hard surface under him, odd level from the ground, weird burning smell from the kitchen?
But no, location is dead important, and the sauna is completely different.
The air is dry and swollen, scraping his throat, and it’s painful, actually painful to breathe. Not to mention the smell, what is it, whatever it is, it’s everywhere, everywhere. And the heat. The Heat. It’s crawling inside his skin, isn’t it
( ... )
Location, Location, Location [1b/2]
anonymous
September 1 2011, 10:54:42 UTC
America bottled up that thought, that crowd of emotion, and pushed England’s head to the wood again. To the side, the heel of America’s hand holding England’s cheek to the bench, and he bites harder this time. Scratching England’s chest in his haste to pinch at England’s chest, and his fingers are tight on England’s right nipple, tighten;
And there it is - England hissed and moaned and writhed; snapping their hips together in a jarring thrust. Ground, and gave a half-moan against the wood.
America’s already there, pointy and sharp, biting and squeezing and tight in all those lovely ways - and its so, too hot and warm and overpoweringly searing. Every line of contact between them is scalding; burning almost. A flash of America’s nails ragged down his chest is scorching his skin, and the sweat of America and England seeps like vinegar into the faint scratch, making it feel crimson.
Location, Location, Location [1c/2]
anonymous
September 1 2011, 10:58:07 UTC
A strangled moan erupts from somewhere in his chest, wriggling past his dry throat and into the air and he clutches tighter on the hard metal in his hand. Clinging, and shuddering, laid bare against the hotness. It’s too hot, it’s too hot!
His legs are nudged apart hard, and something clicked; whimpering, whining, throat sore and skin flushed with the too much heat (he feels like he’s burning up; charred to a crisp) England spread his legs wider. Maybe it’ll go away if he just opens and splays himself bare?
And slick pressure now, slicker and more heated, and England’s groaning, voice tight and coiled in his chest; trying not to anger the heat and toohot and darkness. The thumb hooked in his mouth angles and there’s another pressure right over his mouth, something wet in his mouth, and he’s so dry and heated, that he tongues it right back. Getting slobber all over his face, too hot, too hot. The tongue in his mouth is too hot, and the teeth that graze his lips bruise too hard. Everything is just too something
( ... )
Location, Location, Location [1d/2]
anonymous
September 1 2011, 11:03:34 UTC
America pressed the water bottle back against England’s forehead, and the slighter man gave a moan of relief, pressing into the cool container, eyelashes fluttering slightly. His face is still that same uncomfortably bright colour, and England is all but nuzzling the water container. America gave another swallow, guilt thickening and congealing somewhere in between his ribs. “Right! It’s too warm in here!” America squawked suddenly, all but throwing the water bottle to the side, and England gave an uncomfortable nrrh. America bit his lip, but jumped to his feet and kicking the door open (and off its hinges) jogged, trying hard not to run, and promptly plunged into the cold water of the pool
( ... )
Re: Location, Location, Location [1d/2]
anonymous
September 1 2011, 11:28:05 UTC
Damn, A!A, this is a really tense read; my heart would be breaking if I didn't know that this kind of thing is bound to happen sooner or later. You did such a good job conveying how disoriented and just plain out-of-it England was, and I could just feel both of their panic. I'm not sure who to feel sorrier for, seriously. :'D
I'd be surprised America was able to keep/regain his cool, but luckily seeing the need to cool England down kind of knocked him out of his daze, huh? Although I'm not sure about plunging directly into cool water after getting so overheated, America. That may be okay for Finns and Swedes and Russians, but that's a bit harsh on stressed-out Brits and Americans. Seemed to work out, though! LOL
But seriously, excellent job with building up tension. It probably sounds ridiculous, but I had to find something to hold on to while reading this!
Re: Location, Location, Location [1d/2]
anonymous
September 2 2011, 12:28:32 UTC
This is so interesting, writernon! Your England is so believable, and I love the way you describe things - like the way the heat was such a constant presence without the writing being repetitive. Looking forward to more :)
Re: Location, Location, Location [1d/2]
anonymous
September 2 2011, 15:56:03 UTC
I think it pretty much says everything when I say that I stopped in the middle of this to get something cool to drink and shake the tension out of my shoulders. Good grief, anon, effective at writing much?
... *is stupid and didn't realize dry saunas existed XD*
Location, Location, Location [2a/2]
anonymous
September 4 2011, 16:27:57 UTC
A/N: Sorry this took so long guys. I didn't like my first draft, insert twaddle about work, school and mother going to hospital here (s'all good; she's fine, just grumpy xD)
---
Breath still a fumble of air and hiccoughs, quick jumps and snatched, gulped pants, England gave America a quiet nuzzle, and blinked. Eyelashes brushed against America’s neck, and America shifted his hands, one holding England up more securely, and the other snared in his hair. “You back baby?” America asked hopefully, hooking his fingers deep into the scraggly, dripping locks, and rubbed the pads of his fingers softly on England’s scalp. The hitching breath cut off, and England held still, not even breathing, for an agonizing amount of time. Long enough for America to panic again, “Baby?”
“Thirsty.” England croaked. “Did y’ throw me i’ the poolAt least England was okay enough to actually sound a bit insulted, but now the hitching shakes were turning into long joined together shivers
( ... )
Location, Location, Location [2b/2]
anonymous
September 4 2011, 16:29:04 UTC
Just that dark, terrifying dark, damp, large heat upon him and crawling through each pore of his skin.
“Just…too hot.” England tried to explain; hell, he tried to remember exactly what had gone wrong. “I didn’t expect - dark, and - my head, I was somewhere else, or - hot, and couldn’t see-”
America chewed his lips; I covered his eyes trying something new? What am I? Stupid?
“I couldn’t think clearly - too hot - I didn’t know where I was or…”
“You… responded.” America mumbled in the long pause England left hanging in the air. “I’m sorry, I thought, y’know… that…” That you were enjoying yourself.
Location, Location, Location [2c/2]
anonymous
September 4 2011, 16:32:28 UTC
England didn’t say anything, weighed his words up and measured them, and when America tried to talk, he squirmed, covering America’s mouth with his fingers. America didn’t try to talk after that.
“Didn’t know who, only they… wanted, I- scared… not to fight,” England stared off across the pool, trying to marvel at the reflections instead of whatever explanation he had for his response. “You’re so strong.” I was scared; I’d have done anything. America jerked away from England, almost falling back, and England swallowed up the memories with a quick narrowing of his eyes and dubious expression. “Don’t overreact so much.” Please.
“But I could have been anyone!” America protested, horrified. “As far as you knew, I could have been- been a donkey! Or or or France!”
“A Donk-” England had to start again at the second example. “Francis? But you like Francis!” England protested; America did get along reasonably well with France, and despite the continental nation being somewhat (see: very.) lecherous, it was still a weird example
( ... )
Location, Location, Location [2d/2]
anonymous
September 4 2011, 16:34:06 UTC
“Don’t ask permission.” England managed weakly, but still America didn’t move. With a tired, affectionate sigh, England sat back on America’s stomach, and gestured for America to sit up, and dutifully the younger nation leant up on his elbows. “I really want to kiss you,” England said, and then added even as euphoria spread over America’s face - as it always did whenever England admitted that, like it was something to marvel at. “Back.” England eyed America for a few daring moments, and then, gingerly, nervously, America leaned forward and pressed gently against England, mouth-to-mouth.
And England kissed him back, pulling America with him as he searched for a good angle, licking along America’s lips. America’s entire body shivered under England, but he opened his mouth. Still reserved, England kissed him with an ever-increasing enthusiasm until America responded openlyFinally pulling away with a huff, England caught his breath, his hands pressed flushly on America’s chest, coiling and stroking at America. “Bedroom.” England mumbled
( ... )
Location, Location, Location [2e/2]
anonymous
September 4 2011, 16:36:47 UTC
“You make my heart race,” England sighed, half-laughing at the corny statement. America and his Hollywood. England and his Courtly Love. “Like the sound of rain. Like sparrow wings. Make me spout poetic crap.”
“It’s not crap.” America whispered, unable to hide adoration. Strange sentences stitched and tied together so carefully; the odd patterns of nouns and verbs, meticulously, and openly selected, that was half the affection. The effort, the choices. England’s choice to pull words from halfway across the dictionary and etymology together to try and fail to clearly say I love youAnd then hands raised again to pull America down to kiss him. America gave a shuddery groan, pressed close; chest to chest and heartbeat against heartbeat, hand sliding away across England’s side. Slide over again, and rubbed the tiniest circle on England’s hipbone, and flickered fingertips over his ribcage. England carded his hands in America’s hair, finding a handhold, and arching against him, panting a gasp into America’s mouth, tiny laugh as the brush on
( ... )
Location, Location, Location [2f/2]
anonymous
September 4 2011, 16:39:20 UTC
And England waited, rubbed a comforting hand on whatever part of America he could reach; elbow, waist, stomach. Until, shakily, America smiled, teeth flashing in the nervous gesture. “You okay?” England asked softly.
“Are you?” America asked back, eyes hardening very slightly.
“That depends.”
“On what?” America’s voice jerked about like a puppet on a string; the answer in complete control of most of his feelings right at that moment.
“Are you okay?”
America gave England a quizzical look. “Are you?”
England clicked his tongue in disapproval, now glowering up at America, and wriggled down until his erection pressed against America’s stomach. “I’m fine.” England growled, now actively rubbing against America, trying to apply pressure to America, who struggled not to gasp, or whimper.
“Right, right,” America sighed patiently, tolerantly - probably lovingly, if not for his amused eyeroll, that quickly turned into a pleasured one, his toes curling. “Ahn- wait.” America blinked down at England. “Did you wanna top or bottom?” Then
( ... )
This isn't quite finished, there's still some fluff to get through - which I guess I'll intend to be aftercare vanilla smut, because that seems like the direction I'll take this - so, I'll put it up in two parts. Er, note, this is my *third* attempt at smut.
Ohgodflail... please ignore fail!flail!a!anon >///<;;
Reply
A sauna? Okay, and?
What’s your point, America, he’d said.
Because a simple change of location shouldn’t change things this much. Because getting pinned in America’s bed, in his bed, on the couch, in a car, hell - in a public toilet, is the same as getting pinned just about anywhere else. If we’re drawing parallels, maybe the breakfast table; horizontal, hard surface under him, odd level from the ground, weird burning smell from the kitchen?
But no, location is dead important, and the sauna is completely different.
The air is dry and swollen, scraping his throat, and it’s painful, actually painful to breathe. Not to mention the smell, what is it, whatever it is, it’s everywhere, everywhere. And the heat. The Heat. It’s crawling inside his skin, isn’t it ( ... )
Reply
And there it is - England hissed and moaned and writhed; snapping their hips together in a jarring thrust. Ground, and gave a half-moan against the wood.
America’s already there, pointy and sharp, biting and squeezing and tight in all those lovely ways - and its so, too hot and warm and overpoweringly searing. Every line of contact between them is scalding; burning almost. A flash of America’s nails ragged down his chest is scorching his skin, and the sweat of America and England seeps like vinegar into the faint scratch, making it feel crimson.
Owch, is the dull thought ( ... )
Reply
His legs are nudged apart hard, and something clicked; whimpering, whining, throat sore and skin flushed with the too much heat (he feels like he’s burning up; charred to a crisp) England spread his legs wider. Maybe it’ll go away if he just opens and splays himself bare?
And slick pressure now, slicker and more heated, and England’s groaning, voice tight and coiled in his chest; trying not to anger the heat and toohot and darkness. The thumb hooked in his mouth angles and there’s another pressure right over his mouth, something wet in his mouth, and he’s so dry and heated, that he tongues it right back. Getting slobber all over his face, too hot, too hot. The tongue in his mouth is too hot, and the teeth that graze his lips bruise too hard. Everything is just too something ( ... )
Reply
Reply
I'd be surprised America was able to keep/regain his cool, but luckily seeing the need to cool England down kind of knocked him out of his daze, huh? Although I'm not sure about plunging directly into cool water after getting so overheated, America. That may be okay for Finns and Swedes and Russians, but that's a bit harsh on stressed-out Brits and Americans. Seemed to work out, though! LOL
But seriously, excellent job with building up tension. It probably sounds ridiculous, but I had to find something to hold on to while reading this!
I saw no fail at all! <3?
Reply
The descriptions were clear enough to understand but creative enough to be enjoyable, everything makes sense and the impact is truly grand.
Can't wait for the aftercare part, because this is an amazing fill, a!a.
Reply
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... *is stupid and didn't realize dry saunas existed XD*
Reply
---
Breath still a fumble of air and hiccoughs, quick jumps and snatched, gulped pants, England gave America a quiet nuzzle, and blinked. Eyelashes brushed against America’s neck, and America shifted his hands, one holding England up more securely, and the other snared in his hair. “You back baby?” America asked hopefully, hooking his fingers deep into the scraggly, dripping locks, and rubbed the pads of his fingers softly on England’s scalp. The hitching breath cut off, and England held still, not even breathing, for an agonizing amount of time. Long enough for America to panic again, “Baby?”
“Thirsty.” England croaked. “Did y’ throw me i’ the poolAt least England was okay enough to actually sound a bit insulted, but now the hitching shakes were turning into long joined together shivers ( ... )
Reply
“Just…too hot.” England tried to explain; hell, he tried to remember exactly what had gone wrong. “I didn’t expect - dark, and - my head, I was somewhere else, or - hot, and couldn’t see-”
America chewed his lips; I covered his eyes trying something new? What am I? Stupid?
“I couldn’t think clearly - too hot - I didn’t know where I was or…”
“You… responded.” America mumbled in the long pause England left hanging in the air. “I’m sorry, I thought, y’know… that…” That you were enjoying yourself.
Reply
Reply
“Didn’t know who, only they… wanted, I- scared… not to fight,” England stared off across the pool, trying to marvel at the reflections instead of whatever explanation he had for his response. “You’re so strong.” I was scared; I’d have done anything. America jerked away from England, almost falling back, and England swallowed up the memories with a quick narrowing of his eyes and dubious expression. “Don’t overreact so much.” Please.
“But I could have been anyone!” America protested, horrified. “As far as you knew, I could have been- been a donkey! Or or or France!”
“A Donk-” England had to start again at the second example. “Francis? But you like Francis!” England protested; America did get along reasonably well with France, and despite the continental nation being somewhat (see: very.) lecherous, it was still a weird example ( ... )
Reply
And England kissed him back, pulling America with him as he searched for a good angle, licking along America’s lips. America’s entire body shivered under England, but he opened his mouth. Still reserved, England kissed him with an ever-increasing enthusiasm until America responded openlyFinally pulling away with a huff, England caught his breath, his hands pressed flushly on America’s chest, coiling and stroking at America. “Bedroom.” England mumbled ( ... )
Reply
“It’s not crap.” America whispered, unable to hide adoration. Strange sentences stitched and tied together so carefully; the odd patterns of nouns and verbs, meticulously, and openly selected, that was half the affection. The effort, the choices. England’s choice to pull words from halfway across the dictionary and etymology together to try and fail to clearly say I love youAnd then hands raised again to pull America down to kiss him. America gave a shuddery groan, pressed close; chest to chest and heartbeat against heartbeat, hand sliding away across England’s side. Slide over again, and rubbed the tiniest circle on England’s hipbone, and flickered fingertips over his ribcage. England carded his hands in America’s hair, finding a handhold, and arching against him, panting a gasp into America’s mouth, tiny laugh as the brush on ( ... )
Reply
“Are you?” America asked back, eyes hardening very slightly.
“That depends.”
“On what?” America’s voice jerked about like a puppet on a string; the answer in complete control of most of his feelings right at that moment.
“Are you okay?”
America gave England a quizzical look. “Are you?”
England clicked his tongue in disapproval, now glowering up at America, and wriggled down until his erection pressed against America’s stomach. “I’m fine.” England growled, now actively rubbing against America, trying to apply pressure to America, who struggled not to gasp, or whimper.
“Right, right,” America sighed patiently, tolerantly - probably lovingly, if not for his amused eyeroll, that quickly turned into a pleasured one, his toes curling. “Ahn- wait.” America blinked down at England. “Did you wanna top or bottom?” Then ( ... )
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