[Fanfic] Let's Do Lunch
“America?”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“Having a picnic with you.”
“Really? A picnic on my chest?”
America chuckled. “Silly. You can’t have a picnic on someone’s chest this way. There’s no food on you.”
America wasn’t lying. They were having a picnic together and there wasn’t any food on the nation’s chest. However, the picnic hadn’t lasted for very long. America hadn’t even bothered with the food, mainly because it was England that had cooked the food. But he had actually been rejected for sex earlier that morning when England teasingly said, “I’m not in the mood.”
Well he’d better be in the mood now. Park or not, he was getting some ass.
England gasped as America nipped at his neck, just under his ear. His fingers flexed into the man’s hard biceps, sliding up until they rested on his shoulders. He gripped at his shirt, but made no move to take it off. It was bad enough his shirt was already open, but England had intentions of only letting them make-out and then stop.
Not happening.
When America broke the kiss and moved to taste some more of England’s bare skin, the English nation began pushing him away. “A-all right, America. That’s enough. We are in public.”
America smirked all too sure of himself. He brushed back the bangs that had fallen in front of his face, a lustful glint to his eyes behind his glasses. “My good man… There are ways to have sex and be secretive.”
England flushed, shrinking back in his seat. “Surely you jest…”
“I do,” America said, smiling. “I’m just gonna take you right now.”
America pulled England so his legs hung over the front of the picnic table, his hands curved under his inner thighs. England gasped, his legs opening automatically despite the protests from his head. The couple was lucky to not have anyone in the near vicinity, but that didn't mean someone couldn't walk up on them at any given moment.
England put a hand out to stop America. "What if someone sees?"
Pleased England was no longer fighting, America gave a bright smile. His eyes took on a lustful hue. "Then they’ll be very jealous that their picnic isn’t as awesome as ours.”
America moved England's legs so his feet were on the benches to his side. A stray hand wandered down, unzipping his pants. America leaned down, kissing England with more tongue than finesse. England arched up into his hand as America cupped his balls. A hand of his moved to unzip America's jeans, hard against his lower abdomen.
The men fought for dominance with their tongues as their hands jerked each other off. America was the first to break the kiss. His lips turned their attention on England's stretched neck. England craned his neck back to look at the discarded picnic basket behind him. His free hand reached back and dug into the inside, searching for something.
"Butter," England moaned. He pulled out said food article, placing it beside his head.
America gave a feral smile. He released England and lathered his fingers in a thick coat of butter. England followed suit, his own hand returning to America's hard length. America's nails dug into England's inner thigh, spreading open his leg, as his fingers worked themselves down into his crotch. The slick digits teased his entrance while rough hands grabbed at his cock.
England moaned, curving his back into the hands. He closed his eyes to the feel of hands, fingers, and a warm day; perfect for picnics and sex.
America leaned over and tasted England's bare skin. He stopped at a particular spot and began to suck. England gasped, his body tightening. But then the cool feel of fingers slid up against him, asking to enter. A tug on his penis’ head earned permission. England refused to call America’s name. It was bad enough they were in public making love, bit he could not... Oh!
America had turned his mouth's attention to one of England's nipples. He licked it until it was hard and then sucked lightly until England hard moaned louder than before. He whispered his name. That was as much as he'd get.
A second finger was inserted. England clenched his teeth and opened his eyes. He pulled his hand from America and moved to lick it. America lifted his head to watch his lustful lover. England's fingers were coated with a combination of butter and pre cum. He gave an arrogant grin to America before sticking the fingers in his mouth and sucking. Knowing the younger nation was watching, he closed his eyes and made his movements much more sexual.
America's fingers stopped ever so slightly as he watched. England opened his eyes, drawing one finger from his mouth between his teeth. His hips bucked up in encouragement, prompting America to continue. He did so, but with new vigor.
After the third finger had been inserted England pulled his fingers from his mouth and panted America's name. He reached up to him. They looked in each other's eyes for a moment when suddenly America's fingers were replaced with his hard-on.
England jerked up against him. He sighed as America leaned over, pushing in with rough thrusts. His nails scratched along the wood of the table, hissing at the feeling of being stretched more than three buttered fingers. But America was there, grabbing him and kissing him.
It wasn’t slow, but fast and needy. America had been holding in his desire for the better half of the day and damnit, he was going to get his sex. England had stopped fighting long ago, moaning out into the peaceful day as he reached up for America. Yes, come closer with those wonderful lips and dangerous teeth.
America continued to thrust, until a hand wrapped itself around England’s leaking cock. He ran his nails tenderly across the sensitive skin. England shuddered, gasping, and tugged the man closer. When their lips met, it was sloppy and more tongue than lips. England tried to sit up a little more, but fell back when America found just the right spot.
His legs slipped off of the spot they had been on, kicking out into the air. America grabbed one with his free hand. He wrapped it around his hip until it was caught on the back of his pants. His hand free once again, he put it beside England’s face. Green eyes hazed over in sex looked up at him.
Their movements became frantic and hurried. The rhythm had long since been forgotten. England cared no more for appearances and breathlessly called America’s name. America replied through grunts and groans, leaning all the way over to hit England’s prostrate as much as he could.
“A-A-America!” England tightened as he held back no more. His release spurted over his stomach as he fell lax underneath America.
Soon, warmth filled him as America finished too with a shaky gasp of England’s name. He remained hovering over England for a moment before pulling out and wiping himself up with a napkin from the basket. He cleaned England as well, helping to pull his pants back up.
“So how about lunch?"
~~~~~~~~~
Happy belated birthday! :D
Sorry it's super short. orz