Like Rabbits
Title: Like Rabbits
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor, romance, fluff
Pairings: US/bunny!UK
Warning: Some language (not much) and suggestive situations
Summary: A spell gone awry and of course America would be the one to find out about England's new appearance. And take advantage.
Fate tended to dictate that when something could go wrong, it would…or perhaps that was Murphy’s Law. Either way, it took effect in this case by allowing America to be the first (and hopefully only) nation to find England in such a…delicate predicament.
Said predicament involved fluffy, extremely floppy rabbit ears sprouting from either side of his head and a cottony tail to match. England could even now feel the bloody thing being pressed awkwardly as he tried to maneuver himself into a more comfortable sitting position.
America, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to make this as uncomfortable for England as possible. Or at least he assumed that was why the larger nation had proceeded to drape himself all over England the moment he caught sight of his abnormal ears. He didn’t even know about the tail just yet, thankfully.
“Are you quite finished?” England demanded, rather snippily, when America didn’t seem to tire of nuzzling his face against England’s new ears in the first couple of minutes.
“But they’re so soft,” the younger nation gushed. England rolled his eyes and tried to tug himself away, but with no result. “How’d you get ‘em, anyway?”
England sighed. “If you must know, I was trying to put a charm around my garden to keep rabbits out. The mangy little curs are nibbling at everything this year.”
“Aw, Artie, don’t be like that,” America wheedled. “They’re like your brethren or something now, right?”
“Hardly.” The scathing look plus sarcasm combo hadn’t proved effective on America at any previous time, but England had hope. Of course, the larger man crushed it by simply ignoring him and reaching up to feel the base of the velvety ear he hadn’t been nuzzling like a child.
England immediately tensed up, some instinct flooding his system and telling him to be still, but that the touch was somehow right.
America hummed contentedly beside him on the couch and England bit his lip, deliberately setting his shoulders. His body wanted to relax, and England was having none of that. Not with America around to laugh at him for melting into a pile of rabbit instinct-induced mush.
“I remember my bunnies always liked being petted on the head,” America mused, eyes on England’s furry ears, which (to his extreme horror) were twitching slightly as if interested in the new attention. “Right where their ears started. And I think they liked it if you…”
America trailed off and reached up, pushing England’s new ears slightly back and stroking all the way down them both at once. A tiny noise escaped England, though he tried valiantly to silence it. Instead, he covered with a violent outburst and was able to blame his blush on anger.
“Stop trying to bloody molest my ears, you twat!” Swatting America’s hands away, England scooted back on the couch, pulling his legs up defensively in front of him, toes skyward as if he would kick America if he came any closer.
“It didn’t feel good?” America asked, and England felt bad for a millisecond when he looked distressed and pulled the kicked puppy face.
He quashed the feeling quickly. “What are you here for anyway?” he demanded, ignoring the question, because it had felt good. It had sent little vines of pleasure and relaxation all over his body. Which was a very dangerous response around America.
“I just wanted to hang out,” the American answered, shrugging. “France also said he’d give me a free ticket to his famous museum thing if I could figure out why you’re being so pissy lately.”
“You don’t even like the Louvre,” England pointed out, hoping that would deter America from bugging him. And also trying to discredit France’s attempts to bribe America into spending time with England.
“I know.” America shrugged again, and moved forward to lean on England’s knees, unheeding of the subtle warning his posture was trying to convey. “I don’t really care if I get tickets to whatever. I figured I don’t have anything better to do than hang out with you for a while. I’m on Presidential leave anyway.”
Fabulous. And here he was, on England’s couch - on England’s knees - treating the protrusions on his head like they were the most fascinating thing ever. Granted, one didn’t often see a person with large rabbit ears, but - oh. Oh, that felt…
America was petting his ears again, fingers digging in very nicely at the base and softly stroking all the way down their length. He alternated between them, and before he was aware of it, England’s eyes had slipped closed and his mouth dropped slightly open as pleasant shivers travelled down his spine.
“Told ya that’s what rabbits like,” America said, and England opened his eyes to see the man grinning smugly at him from where he was still leaned against England’s legs and knees.
“I am not a rodent!” England huffed indignantly. “I simply have the ears and tail of one.”
“You have a tail too?” England could tell from the gleeful expression on America’s face, revealing such information had been a mistake. However, he didn’t get to make excuses or defend himself before the American opened his big mouth again.
“If you like the ear thing, I bet I could make you go all trance-y too,” the younger man proclaimed, sitting up from where he’d been leaning. “Now don’t hit me, okay?”
England bristled. “Why wouldn’t I hit you? You’d probably deserve it.”
A second later, England believed he really would deserve it. The little upstart had moved forward enough to slip his arms under England’s shoulders and hips and was lifting him to lie with his head in America’s lap, belly up. The smaller nation squirmed, cussed at him, and did try to hit him, but America caught his arms and transferred them to one hand.
“Come on, just let me try,” he half-whined and half-demanded. England thrashed some more, but paused when he felt America’s hand run from the edge of one eyebrow all the way back into his hair in a gentle caress. Now that just wasn’t fair. Not only did he apparently know how to pick at England’s pleasure spots concerning his fluffy ears, but he was lightly stroking his eyebrows as well.
England had a vicious urge to reach up and play with Nantucket in retaliation, but couldn’t with his hands trapped. The rest of his body was becoming increasingly content as well. With each smooth pass of America’s hands over his face and sensitive ears, England felt himself slipping into a somewhat dazed state. Finally, all his limbs felt somewhat like gelatin and his eyes were barely staying open while he lay bonelessly in America’s lap.
“See?” the younger nation said, voice softer to match England’s lack of movement or protest. “If you tip a rabbit backwards, it gets all hypnotized and stuff. But you gotta pet its face too.” America did it again, softly passing his fingers across England’s cheekbone, up over his temple and into his hair to apply a pleasant sort of pressure against his ears.
England couldn’t stop himself from moaning, but then was slightly taken aback by his teeth automatically starting to grind together a bit. He couldn’t really bring himself to care much though, as both his mind and body were in a state of highly enjoyable paralysis.
America laughed slightly. “Bunny purring. England, you’re so cute.” He leaned down to press a light kiss to England’s forehead, and the smaller nation gasped softly in reply, head tipping up toward him of its own volition as his teeth let up the grinding motion.
“And those ears are so soft,” America went on, practically fondling England’s ears in his hands and prompting a blush to rise full-force on the man’s cheeks. America made little contented noises, rubbing the sensitive ears against his cheek and closing his eyes with a smile.
“Now,” America paused, lowering the ear still held in his hand, but never stopping the way his fingers lightly kneaded and massaged the receptive appendage. “Let’s see about that tail.”
And there was the America England knew, smiling mischievously down at him, surely with some horrid plan of action already in his head. At least it wasn’t so disarming as the America who had been caressing his face and murmuring compliments about England’s rabbit ears.
But that didn’t stop England from wanting to protest as America hoisted him into his arms and started toward England’s room.
For one, he didn’t appreciate being carried like some bride. Secondly, though his body was completely relaxed, England was starting to fret a bit about being in such a lax state. What if America decided to keep him on his back until he could exact whatever idiot plan he had in mind?
England knew a bit about putting rabbits in trances, and unless he was flipped over (or the charm wore off, which would hopefully be soon), England could very well stay in his little hypnotized state for hours.
So far, America wasn’t planning on flipping him over, it seemed. At least he was placed gently on his bed, and England had enough control of himself to send America a glare along with some choice words about America’s parentage.
“Aw. C’mon, Artie.” The American settled himself over England’s thighs, tugging up his shirt out of the way where it had been covering the back of his trousers. “I’m not gonna do anything bad. I just wanna see this tail of yours.” The smirk on his face added the implied …for now.
England grumbled, but endured…for now. It wasn’t like he could do much, and perhaps if he was cooperative, America would roll him over faster. The moron seemed to be being careful with him anyway, like he really was half-rabbit and about as delicate as one. Had this been another situation, one England’s mind rarely allowed him to even imagine, he would probably be nagging at America to hurry the hell up, and maybe encourage him to be a bit rougher. In this case, the gentleness was comforting, and some bit of the rabbit instincts that had mixed into him liked feeling so safe.
America pulling down his trousers, even an inch or two, was not in the realm of ‘safe’, however. His long fingers were probing just at the edge of England’s trousers, searching for the telltale fluffy fur that England knew rested at the end of his spine, just that little bit too close to the start of his ass. Finally (thank God), America found it and gave a delighted cry.
“Oh man, that is so cool,” the younger nation babbled, lightly fingering the bit off fluff above England’s ass like it wasn’t a violation. England felt shudders run through him which he knew had little to do with his newly gained rabbit side. He was fairly certain rabbits didn’t like their tails touched, but as for his human instincts…this was far too intimate a situation for him to be in with America of all people.
England cursed himself out mentally as a small whimper left him, and clenched his eyes so as not to see America’s horrified expression. God, he must be the sickest of freaks, getting off on being explored by America simply for the oddity of his newly acquired ears.
America seemed to interpret the sound a little differently, and retracted his hand, spewing apologies.
“Oh, jeeze, Arthur, I’m sorry. I forgot rabbits don’t like their tails touched.” He slid his hand back under England, and the smaller nation would have stiffened in something he might have vehemently denied was anticipation, but his body was too lax to do much of anything.
“Here,” America said, rolling him over onto his front again.
England panted, mentally exhausted from trying to make his body react when he hadn’t been able to. His head fell forward onto a pillow to breathe deeply before he notice the other responses his body was putting out now that he could move again. One of his ears had flicked back, the other forward, as much as was possible with a rather floppy set. His tail, still exposed where it had caught on the hem of his trousers, was twitching rather madly, making a ticklish feeling at the base of his spine. And without his permission, one heel all of a sudden knocked into the other, sending him jolting forward a bit.
America was silent behind him, still knelt over and slightly straddling England’s body. As for England, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He would have had no idea why his body was doing such things, except he didn’t need the interpretation of a veterinarian or a handbook. He could feel for himself what was making him act this way. He just hoped to God America’s memories of his pet rabbits knew nothing of this kind of situation.
But, as previously stated, when something could go wrong (especially for England), it was bound to. And in a sense, it did.
“I know what your body’s telling me, Arthur,” America said, and England tried to think whether his voice had been that low before. Of course it hadn’t, because America also hadn’t been running his palm slowly and sensually up England’s spine before either. And he certainly hadn’t been letting his tongue flick against England’s neck when he spoke either.
America’s other hand dropped to rest just above England’s ever-twitching tail, and the smaller nation shuddered pleasantly, ears twitching as well. “I know exactly what this means. Do you?”
England was mortified to nod, but he did. He knew exactly what his body wanted, what his mind refused to want, and what his heart had (ever increasingly) needed. But he’d never dreamed it would be literal if he and America ever got to be going at it ‘like rabbits’.
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A/N: Request by plextral and also written to comemorate my midterms being over. \o/
Oh, also, in bunny body language, as far as I researched...
Grinding teeth: equivalent to a cat purring
One ear cocked forward: ineterest in food, other individual, or mates
Twitching tail, in females: open to mating
Knocking heels together, either sex: open to mating