New Year's Resolutions (1/?)
anonymous
June 27 2009, 21:32:17 UTC
Sorry, its not beta'd! *hides* ******
It was the beginning of a new year, of new experiences. Many years after the Second Great War, both sides agreed to meet, agreed to host the other nations for one year to teach traditions and practices, national holidays and food. They were coming off a year that was interesting to say the least, mostly because Italy treated every occasion as a pant-less one.
It was Japan’s turn, beginning with the biggest and most important of holidays -Shogatsu, or New Years. The nations in attendance had spent the day touring shrines and preparing for the turn of the clock, the entrance into a new day, a new year. Japan had provided them with silk yukata, pounded rice cakes, and a fine, steady supply of sake and plum wine.
America’s knees had long gone numb on the tatami mats, his body incapable of sitting seiza like some of the others, his blood only humming with the sweet liquor. England was showing restraint (wanting to avoid a nasty Britannia Angel incident), while Russia was not, and America watched
( ... )
Re: New Year's Resolutions (2/4)
anonymous
June 27 2009, 21:33:06 UTC
It was harder to believe that Japan’s face was coming closer to his own, flushed with drink and laughter. “Um, Kiku,” his face stopped so close, their noses almost touching, breath mingling like the silks wrapped around their bodies. America pushed them up, pushed Japan back, “let’s get you to the bathroom.”
America was surprised at the suddenly sober look Japan gave him, surprised as the smaller nation leaned in, whispering, “America-san, I must confess,” the island nation idly stroked America’s arms and neck, “I haven’t been honest.” Despite Alfred’s best attempts to resist Kiku’s soft nuzzling, he couldn’t help but feel heat pooling in his belly, friction from skin and silk, Japan’s hands and hips stroking and touching.
“Honest? Kiku, what’s . . .” Japan’s thin finger silenced him. “I’ve lured you out here, America-san.” He was still whispering, as much as he could under the influence. “Lured?” Japan seemed to try to crawl into America’s yukata, tried to bring their bodies closer, and used his hands to bring their foreheads
( ... )
Re: New Year's Resolutions (3/4)
anonymous
June 27 2009, 21:33:44 UTC
Kiku used his hands and hips to guide Alfred as he explored his body with his mouth. The yukata pooled on each side of their bodies, framing, protecting. Japan could feel it under his fingertips when he stroked America’s back. America brushed the silk aside to caress Japan’s thighs. He mapped the body beneath him, paid attention to Japan’s small nipples, counted each rib, and worshiped the matching scars on his waist. “Do they still hurt, Kiku?”
“No, Alfred-san, not as much as they used to,” Japan pet America’s hair, fluffed the golden strands and adjusted the thin frames on the other’s face.
America continued down Japan’s legs; lavished his thighs, tickled his knees, and nipped at his ankles. On his way back up, America had to laugh at the pleading and keening noises coming from the usually demure nation. His hand moved underneath the island nation, arranging his legs, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Kiku smiled at him, looked at him from lowered lashes, and reaching into the sleeve of his yukata, and pulled out a small bottle, “I
( ... )
Re: New Year's Resolutions (4/4)
anonymous
June 27 2009, 21:34:47 UTC
“I know I taught you better than that.” “Hey Germany, can we ‘go to the bathroom’ too?” “No, mon cher, I believe I taught him that.” “No, stop asking.” “You absolutely did not!” “But Germany!” “ Its true, I didn’t teach him to put on such a show. That must have been you, Angelterre.
America settled back into his spot around the table, ignoring his arguing father figures and Italy’s drunken pleas, “So. Anybody have any Resolutions?”
Yup, America trying to fend off drunk seductive Japan and fails at it. Make it extra smutty, please. Bonus if they do it with people in the next room.
Reply
******
It was the beginning of a new year, of new experiences. Many years after the Second Great War, both sides agreed to meet, agreed to host the other nations for one year to teach traditions and practices, national holidays and food. They were coming off a year that was interesting to say the least, mostly because Italy treated every occasion as a pant-less one.
It was Japan’s turn, beginning with the biggest and most important of holidays -Shogatsu, or New Years. The nations in attendance had spent the day touring shrines and preparing for the turn of the clock, the entrance into a new day, a new year. Japan had provided them with silk yukata, pounded rice cakes, and a fine, steady supply of sake and plum wine.
America’s knees had long gone numb on the tatami mats, his body incapable of sitting seiza like some of the others, his blood only humming with the sweet liquor. England was showing restraint (wanting to avoid a nasty Britannia Angel incident), while Russia was not, and America watched ( ... )
Reply
America was surprised at the suddenly sober look Japan gave him, surprised as the smaller nation leaned in, whispering, “America-san, I must confess,” the island nation idly stroked America’s arms and neck, “I haven’t been honest.” Despite Alfred’s best attempts to resist Kiku’s soft nuzzling, he couldn’t help but feel heat pooling in his belly, friction from skin and silk, Japan’s hands and hips stroking and touching.
“Honest? Kiku, what’s . . .” Japan’s thin finger silenced him.
“I’ve lured you out here, America-san.” He was still whispering, as much as he could under the influence.
“Lured?” Japan seemed to try to crawl into America’s yukata, tried to bring their bodies closer, and used his hands to bring their foreheads ( ... )
Reply
“No, Alfred-san, not as much as they used to,” Japan pet America’s hair, fluffed the golden strands and adjusted the thin frames on the other’s face.
America continued down Japan’s legs; lavished his thighs, tickled his knees, and nipped at his ankles. On his way back up, America had to laugh at the pleading and keening noises coming from the usually demure nation. His hand moved underneath the island nation, arranging his legs, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Kiku smiled at him, looked at him from lowered lashes, and reaching into the sleeve of his yukata, and pulled out a small bottle, “I ( ... )
Reply
“Hey Germany, can we ‘go to the bathroom’ too?”
“No, mon cher, I believe I taught him that.”
“No, stop asking.”
“You absolutely did not!”
“But Germany!”
“ Its true, I didn’t teach him to put on such a show. That must have been you, Angelterre.
America settled back into his spot around the table, ignoring his arguing father figures and Italy’s drunken pleas, “So. Anybody have any Resolutions?”
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