Be My Anchor, Be My Moor
When England walked into America’s house carrying a large shopping bag from the Home Depot and struggling to keep his gaze off the floor and the blush off his face, America knew something was up.
He turned on the couch to dangle his hands over the back, watching as England walked down the hall to the master bedroom, studiously not making eye contact, and came back empty-handed, sitting next to America and curling into his side while still staring at the floor. America turned back to face the front and opened his arm to him, allowing England to clutch his shirt and hide his face in his shoulder.
“Can I help you?” he asked England, completely perplexed. A muffled, unintelligible response was his answer, and he sighed, sinking back into the couch and propping his feet on the ottoman, pulling England’s legs across his lap so he could hold him better. He rested his lower face in England’s hair, lips against his scalp, and waited for his boyfriend to pull himself together.
Finally, England moved his head enough that his mouth wasn’t full of America’s shirt and said quietly, “I want you to tie me up.”
America’s face contorted in confusion. “What?”
He felt England stiffen slightly in his arms, but he went on anyway, voice quiet, “Not tie me up and throw me across the train tracks kind of tie me up, but the… tie me up and have sex with me kind of tie me up.”
America’s grip on England’s knees and around his waist tightened. “Oh.”
England tucked his head under America’s chin, hand fisting in his shirt. “Yeah.”
It all finally clicked in America’s head. “Wait, did you seriously buy rope from the Home Depot? Dude, that is gonna burn-”
“I know what I’m doing!” England cut him off fiercely, punching him slightly with the fist resting on America’s chest.
“What, you’ve done this before?” England was silent. “Aw, come on!”
“Just-” England took a deep breath. “Just please, do this. For me.”
America sighed and stood, shifting England in his arms for a better hold while England himself squealed only slightly as he quickly wrapped his arms around America’s neck. He had almost gotten used to America’s unintentional manhandling, but it still took him by surprise every now and then. “If that’s what you want,” he said quietly, kissing England’s now visible face, which was flushed a furious red, as he walked down the hall to the master bedroom. He smiled against England’s cheek as he kicked the door all the way open, sliding through before it rebounded off the rubber wall protector (extra thick, just for him) and dumping England on the bed. America climbed over him, grinning as he wormed his hands under England’s shirt and set about kissing him properly.
England let him for a moment, tangling his fingers in America’s hair and bending one of the legs between America to rub awkwardly at his groin. America shoved his shirt all the way up his chest, collecting under his arms, and ran his hands over England’s torso as their tongues tangled and teeth clacked slightly. When America got to unbuttoning England’s pants, however, England pulled away from the kiss, stretching his arms above his head and gripping the bars of the headboard, giving America his most pointed look even while blushing furiously. America chuckled and kissed him one more time, then clambered off the bed, pulling the shopping bag to the side of his bed.
“I just got one question,” he said lightly, shifting through the contents of the bag. He did have to admit, England knew his rope. He’d probably get a little rope burn, but knowing the bastard, he wouldn’t mind a bit.
England sat up on his elbows and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”
America picked out one of the several lengths of thin, slightly soft black rope, tearing off the plastic casing and shaking it out. “Do you just want the tying up part, or…” He smirked and snapped a length of the rope tight, watching England through narrowed eyes. England swallowed, eyes flickering between the rope and America’s face. “Is there something else you’d like?”
England flopped back on the bed and tilted his head back, huffing and covering his face with his hands. “Just get on with it,” he mumbled.
America chuckled again and crawled back over him, stripping off England’s shirt slowly, straightening England’s arms above his head and exposing his pink face. “Now don’t be like that,” he crooned, chucking the shirt to the side and gripping both of England’s hands in one of his. He leaned in close to England’s face - close enough to feel England’s ragged breathing against his skin - and ducked to the side to pull his teeth over England’s earlobe. England arched up into him with a sudden cry.
He sat back, straddling England’s thighs, bringing his hands with him and pulling him forward harshly; England fell into his chest with a small 'oof'. America turned his head to the side to bite his neck. England squirmed and tilted his head to the side to give him more access, his hot sigh fanning against America’s throat.
“Seriously, though, Art,” America said quietly, voice losing a touch of its self-confidence, “how far did you want to take this?”
“Bloody fuck,” England cursed, knocking his head on America’s collarbone. “You’d think a nation who tries to police the fucking world would take charge a little better-” England’s grousing was interrupted by America’s free hand, the rope still dangling from it, grabbing a fistful of his hair and wrenching his head back from America’s chest so he could kiss him hard and senseless, shutting him up and giving into England’s demands.
While England blinked at the ceiling after the kiss, America got off the bed again and fumbled around in his dresser for the pocketknife he kept in his underwear drawer, collecting the lube and box of condoms from the nightstand on the way back and dropping his glasses in their place. England’s eyes widened at the sight of the knife, and he sat up to scramble away.
“Red-no, shit, no bloodplay, Alfred-”
“Chillax, man! It’s not for you!” America said, tossing the lube and condoms on the other half of the bed before kneeling on the bed and pulling England back to him and crossing England’s wrists behind his back, tying them with the quick efficiency of a soldier before sawing off the excess rope. He waved the shorn end in England’s face. “See?”
“Oh.” England slumped forward in relief, sagging in America’s arms for a moment. America decided to not let him catch his breath this time and looped the rope twice around his neck, just loose enough not to choke, tying it at the back before looping the ends around the rope already around his wrists. England’s head was forced back slightly, and he panted, eyelids fluttering.
America grinned and nipped at the skin just above the rope around his neck, earning another squeal from England. If just this got him panting… oh, this was going to be a fun afternoon.
With his grin permanently affixed to his face, America quickly pulled off his own shirt and unbuttoned his pants, kneeling behind England and pressing against his pinned arms, rolling his hand into his crotch brutally. England keened, throwing his head back further against America’s shoulder. With the extra inch or two of movement for his arms, his fingers scrabbled down America’s bare abdomen and hooked in the elastic of his briefs, tugging insistently and jolting his arousal back to the forefront of America’s attention. He cursed quietly, then pulled on the trailing ends of the rope at England’s hands to spin him around on his knees, then shoved him back on the bed, catching his legs as they flew up. He pulled England back towards him, planting England’s feet on his shoulders so he could pull his pants and underwear to his knees roughly. The flurried, whispered curses from England spurred him on. He nudged the hem of one of his pants leg up with his nose to kiss at bare ankle (somewhere, England had gotten rid of his own shoes and socks). When England’s body squirmed at his knees, he slid him back against the sheets, pulling his calves out of his pants as he shoved England’s legs up and to his sides. England’s chest heaved, and he looked up at America with wide, dilated eyes, tongue flicking out to wet dry lips.
The tail ends of the first rope wouldn’t reach around England’s thighs, so America ripped off the plastic of the next one, snapping it out straight to the side, knocking over his alarm clock in the process. He looped it around England’s ribcage this time, twice before knotting securely just above his navel, and pulled England’s bent legs as close to his sides as they would go without England reflexively wincing. He wrapped the ropes under England’s knees, and England’s panting turned into gasps as he sat back, hand over his frown and the ends of the rope in the other as he considered where to tie them. He gave a small shrug, then leaned forward again, weaving them between the coils at England’s neck before tying it below his Adam’s apple.
America sat back again and admired his handiwork, a wide grin on his face. England was red all over and looking ravished, even though America had barely touched him, bent out of shape and eyes definitely begging to be fucked.
“This is fun,” America said instead, diving for the shopping bag again and ripping the plastic off and throwing it to the floor. England almost sobbed - from anticipation or frustration, America didn’t bother to try and tell. He pulled England up a little by the rope on his stomach so he could slide the third one behind him, grinning close to his face. “Now what’s left to tie?”
“Alfred, please-” Oh, so it had been frustration. Well, he’d use this rope up and then get down to business.
This time, he wrapped the rope around all of England, wrapping the opposite ends in mirror spirals up England’s legs, helping his hip sockets to turn so he could tie his ankles together, a few inches of rope connecting them at America’s eye level. He reached blindly for the lube as he kissed England’s feet, down the ankles to the calluses on the heels and balls of his feet.
“Oh God, Alfred if you don’t- aah!” England tore into a breathy scream as two wet fingers forced their way into his exposed entrance, arching up as much as the ropes would allow. His feet slipped down to brace against America’s chest as he immediately set into fucking himself on the two fingers, holding himself in that arch so he could keep his leverage. America laughed and added a third finger before he would normally do so, letting England’s furiously racing libido take over for a bit as he stretched England out, carefully avoiding his prostate for now no matter how England tried to force his fingers in the right direction.
He added a fourth finger just to be cheeky. England tried to glare at him, to tell him to get on with it, but he was a curled-up ball of quiver and rope and had nothing in him for a true glare.
America finger fucked him as hard as he knew how, grazing his prostate but never hitting it fully, he knew, and shoved his own pants and underwear down sloppily with his other hand. In the engrossing process of wrapping up his oddly-sprung boyfriend, he had forgotten to get himself naked as well.
He gave up when they were halfway down his thighs - his cock was free, that was all that mattered - and quickly fished a condom from the box, unable to wrench his attention from the writhing England in front of him. His own hand on his cock jolted him away for a moment, and he hissed as he spread lubrication sloppily, only taking his hand out of England when absolutely necessary.
When he was finally ready, England was mouthing ‘fuck me’ like a chant, and something wasn’t perfect about this picture anymore.
A flash of a wicked grin, and America gripped one of the trailing ends of the rope tied at his back and pulled hard, flipping England over with what would have been an indignant squawk if he had been less aroused, landing on his calves and the side of his face. America frowned for a moment, then flicked out the pocketknife and cut the ties on his ankles so he could shove England’s legs as far as the ties on his knees would let him. The newly freed rope spun madly around England’s calves as they moved, and he groaned and let his eyes slip closed as America tossed the closed pocketknife aside, aligned himself, and slipped in.
England lost control of his voice, throwing his head back and screaming as America set the pace almost instantly, heavy presence at his back as he pounded him forward into the mattress. A hand gripped in his hair and kept his head reared back, and America bit at his face, neck, shoulder, encouraging every little whine and pant that escaped. He sat back, pulling England with him by his hair and his rope, and held England’s top half to him by his teeth in the rope around his neck, hooking his arms under his tied-in knees. He let his neck go as he picked the pace back up, leaning slightly backwards to keep England upright and he effortlessly lifted him up and down on his cock, hips snapping up with each pull down. England’s head thrashed to the side, too far gone to think about kissing America or touching America or anything but America’s knots and America’s cock hitting just there-
He let out a very real scream this time as America finally let himself hit England’s prostate, coming hard over his stomach and the sheets in front of him. America kept up the rough pace throughout his orgasm, rubbing against his prostate until England flopped back, sated and a little loopy from the afterglow. He mouthed at America’s jaw as the movement ebbed, not yet noticing how it trembled beneath his lips and tongue and how the stomach muscles tensed beneath his slowly kneading fingers.
Carefully, America pulled his hands from under England’s knees and reached around him, pulling at the knot on the front of his neck blindly until it fell away and England’s legs, suddenly deprived of their support, sprawled out across the bed. The newly freed rope fell to his hips, partially held in place where it was trapped between England’s back and arms. Gently, America let England lay forward between his legs, leaning backward as he pulled England’s legs, almost as malleable as jelly at this point, around so he was facing him, then leaned him back up to sit properly in his lap, never fully pulling out.
He wove his fingers in England’s tied up ones, kissing him softly and holding him up as England melted against him. “Love ya, darlin’,” America breathed into his mouth. England hummed, smiling into the kiss.
“Forever last,” he breathed back, keeping with his habit of spouting pretty poetic nonsense post-orgasm. America smiled.
“Ready for more?” he said quietly, trailing his lips from England’s mouth up his cheek to his temple, his ear, his neck. England laughed.
“Whatever you wish, love.” He hooked his ankles behind America’s back and rolled his hips, making America hiss and switch his grip to England’s thighs, stopping him before it was too late. He untied his hands from his neck and pulled out at last, lying England back against the pillows as he rolled his slightly sore neck around, stretching his wonderfully burning muscles. England grinned up at him, and any misgivings America had fluttering about at the rough treatment flew out of the room, and he grinned back as he finally shucked off his pants and underwear before straddling England once more.
America flipped him over, lifting him up and turning him face down so he stayed between his legs, and quickly tugged apart the knots at his wrists - pulled tighter through the natural strain of England’s struggles for freedom, but the skin underneath was only a little red so far, so he would wait to worry until they were done. He put the rope in his teeth for a moment as he flipped him back over, then smirked before scooting further up England’s body to stretch his hands out wide, tying one to a post in the headboard with the rope in his teeth and the other with one of the shorter halves that he had tied his ankles with for those few minutes, arms spread out almost completely across the bed. England bucked slightly beneath him, testing the new bonds and quickly discovering a wrist flick that let him grip the posts he was tied to. America sat down on his chest, pinning him in place without resting his entire weight on him because he wanted to get the message across, not break any ribs. England swore and America laughed, finishing the knots on the second hand and sitting up, towering over England’s prone form on his knees. England was staring at his cock, condom still on, tongue coating his lips so slowly that America had doubts he even realized he was doing it.
America took off the unused condom, throwing it towards the pile of plastic rope cases, but climbed away before England could press forward and put his mouth to it. It was getting slightly painful, but it was totally worth it to see England’s face go panicked and desperate. He put two fingers over his mouth before he could draw breath to object, smiling sweetly at him, before falling back to dig in the bag. America let out a small “Ah-ha!” of triumph and pushed himself back up, holding the one package of thinner lightweight rope England had added into the mix. He sliced open the package with the ever-useful pocketknife and untwisted the ties holding the rope in its loops, shamelessly reveling in England’s needy whines and hip thrusts.
He ran his nails up England’s legs, feet to knees and back down. “What do ya say, keep your legs free?” he asked lightly, drumming his fingers into his kneecaps.
“Not in hell- fucking God, if you quit on me now-”
America laughed to hide his slight surprise, tracing light circles around one of England’s knees as he considered where to put them. To buy himself some time, he wrapped his hand around England’s half-hard cock, pumping it slowly to the soundtrack of his evergrowing moans. He really wanted England’s mouth - he watched it, fallen open, sloppy, red, and he wanted his cock in it - but England wanted his legs bound.
Well, he could work with that.
He discarded the new rope for one of the thicker black ones, sliding England’s bent legs together in front of him hard enough to hear the snap of flesh on flesh. He quickly tied the rope around his ankles, knotting it before winding it up around his legs as far as they would go. When he ran out of rope halfway up his thighs, he tied the end round several of the top loops before sliding England back, forcing him to a seated position against the headboard and the pillows caught behind him. America threw them off the bed and crawled into England’s lap, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him fiercely. England moaned and kissed back as much as he could, bent legs pushing into America’s back to try and get him as close as possible.
America pulled away forcefully, gripping England’s face tightly and staring into his dilated and watering eyes. “Arthur, I’m gonna tie you up tighter’n a Christmas present in July, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do ‘bout it,” he told him, tongue tripping over his redneck drawl. England moaned, sinking into the hands on his face and eyes fluttering closed.
“Yes,” he sighed, letting the word draw out in his slow exhale.
America shook him fiercely, just once; his eyes snapped open as America ordered, “Don’t you close your eyes on me! You wanted this, so do’s I say’n nothin’ else!” England nodded, keeping his eyes wide and trained on America. He smiled. “See, now that ain’t so hard.” He kissed him quickly, then rose to his knees, rotating the rope around England’s neck so the knot was at the front and his cock filled up England’s vision. “Now suck, darlin’.”
England blinked at him, arousal slowing his thoughts and confusing him over the abrupt change in subject. America sighed and forced his jaw open with the hand holding the rope, guiding his cock into that mouth with the other. England choked at the sudden intrusion, and America backed away for a moment, giving him a second to gasp for breath before guiding it back insistently.
This time, England’s lips were as wide as he could make them, leaning forward against the ropes at his wrists as it slid inside. He sucked on it hard and rubbed his tongue along the bottom, and America gave in, gripping both hands in his hair and fucking his mouth, fully aware of how much England could take and giving him more, ignoring the gag reflex just as much as England was. He stared up at America through dark eyelashes, giving up the little control he had left of the situation and moaning shamelessly around the cock in his mouth.
“Arth- Arthur,” America moaned, nails scratching England’s scalp. England sealed his lips around what was in his mouth and was ready when America came down his throat, swallowing greedily and sucking for more, hands fighting the ropes to milk the parts not in reach of his tongue. America read his thoughts, though, as one of the hands in England’s hair came back to pump himself through the rest of his orgasm.
When he was done, America pulled his limp cock from that mouth reluctantly, sinking down to sit on England’s legs, the rope wound around them gathered and spread by England’s movements. He rested his head on England’s shoulder, and he longed to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight, to never let him go again. America was too busy being momentarily delirious to notice England’s resigned nuzzling into the side of his head. After a long while of heavy breathing and idle exploration, America sighed and shifted his attention down to England’s cock, stroking him off quickly. It didn’t take much to make him arch into America’s chest with a soft cry, hands curling into fists at the headboard.
When England was down, America pushed away from him, leaning to the side to fumble off one of the wrist ties, letting the rope fall behind the bed as he switched sides to take off the other one.
He righted himself on England’s lap, helping England when he found him fumbling blindly at the knot against his throat. When that rope fell away, he took England’s forearms in hand gently, inspecting the red rope burns slashed around his wrists in jagged lines and frowning.
“Really, now, Alfred, don’t blame yourself,” England scolded him softly, leaning forward quickly to kiss the corner of America’s mouth tenderly. “It’s not like…” He cleared his throat as America raised one of his arms to kiss along the rashes on the inside of his wrist, eyes smiling at him over his fingers. “It’s not like I didn’t like it,” he finished, looking down at the empty air between their stomachs, suddenly aware of how sticky he felt, from sweat and come on his stomach and the corners of his mouth, and how his legs were still tied together, albeit not very well by now.
“I’ll get the Neosporin anyway,” America told him just as softly, kissing the other wrist with his eyes closed, smiling against his skin. England shoved him off abruptly, and he fell to the side with a laugh, rolling with it towards the bathroom as England busied himself with shoving the rope around his legs off, untying the knots between his knees and ankles and throwing it off the bed with a vengeance as America took a running jump onto the bed, Neosporin and wet washcloth in hand.
England fell onto his back again as the bed leaped under him, and America took the chance and straddled him one more time, scrubbing at the dried come on his chest with the cloth, merely grinning at England’s indignant sputtering. He tossed the washcloth on top of the pile of rope cases, ignoring more of England’s indignant sputtering about the rightful places of such things, then clambered under the covers, holding them up and smiling widely at England in an invitation. England rolled his eyes, but complied, sliding in beside him. America laughed and pulled him into his lap, spreading his legs for England to sit between as he pulled the blankets up over their legs and held England’s hands in his, resting his chin on his shoulder as he rubbed Neosporin into the red marks slowly.
“So, you gonna tell me why this happened now?” America asked, pushing England to lean forward slightly and put Neosporin on the marks around his neck. England shook his hair in front of his face, despite the fact that he was facing away from America anyway. America smiled and kissed the skin just above the shiny slash of Neosporin. “On your own time, then.” England smiled at him over his shoulder gratefully, then tugged America down so they could lie down completely, sans pillow but uncaring. America flipped them on their sides, holding England close around the waist and nuzzling into his hair.
England sighed and relaxed into his arms, eyes slipping closed with a smile on his face.