Just a Little Fun. 1/1
So I found this prompt in the kink meme and just couldn't resist.
Title Just a Little Fun.
Genre Crack?
Rating NC 17 (NSFW)
Warnings Smut; overly devious America
Summary America discovers a new way to torture poor England.
“So.”
It was a single word consisting of only one syllable; hardly meriting any prompt for real thought or consideration. There was no following subject or verb to link the ugly conjunction to an actual thought; simply an incomplete sentence that would otherwise have earned a longwinded lecture on sentence structures and lack thereof. England wanted to let the younger nation know just how little he thought of the poor excuse for a conversation starter, perhaps even go so far as to suggest a language tutor for the man.
But that simple word combined with the pure seduction that dripped from the husky whisper that wafted over the shell of his ear, all sense of rational thought process fled the from the monarchist’s mind. A helpless shudder ripped through his spine and he sunk a bit deeper into the plush cushioning of the sofa below, tilting his head to expose a generous expanse of throat to the young nation currently straddling his hips. Tongue and lips joined the battle against coherency as they began to work enticingly against the proffered flesh, luring breathy sighs and wonderful spasms of pleasure.
“You feel up for some fun tonight?” Hard, ruthless nips of teeth against flesh sent the poor island into a tailspin of sensation.
“If I wasn’t before,” the small island hissed, grasping either side of a boyish face, “I am now.” He promptly crashed his lips into the other’s with a needy groan.
There was no finesse within the kiss; it was sloppy and rough, their eagerness overshadowing any indication of disgust for the saliva that dribbled down from the corners of lips. Tongues slipped and slid and caressed in a sweet dance as wet smacks echoed off darkened walls of the sitting room. Air seemed to thicken with humidity and heat, twisting around the bodies and crushing them in an inescapable cloud of passion as they pulled and pushed.
“I don’t think you’ve ever been this excited before,” the younger murmured against his lips, his fingers deftly freeing the too-small buttons of a crisply ironed button-down shirt. They trailed over newly revealed flesh with featherlight touches that sensitized every inch of explored area, slithering down slopes of trembling muscles with a teasing touch that left the island squirming and moaning.
“Maybe you’re finally getting - getting better at this,” England gasped as his hands ran a soothing rhythm up and down the strong back.
Immediately the island’s head snapped back, a sharp, guttural groan wrenching past his lips as his fingers seized around the leather fabric beneath his hands. Eyes cinched shut and toes curled at the sharp but beautiful pang that rippled through his body as the hardened nubs were rolled roughly between attentive fingers. He could feel the warmth building and bubbling in his stomach, swirling and festering until it was steadily filtered lower, down to pool into a chasm that was gradually building in pressure and heat into a sweet, heady, delicious pain.
“America, please,” he moaned, rolling his hips in a fruitless effort to gain friction against the steadily hardening flesh beneath his trousers.
“But baby,” the silky voice purred, “we’ve hardly begun.”
Soft, moist lips ran across fevered cheeks as hands ran smoothly down the sides of the older nation’s torso. England had to bite his lip to contain the needy whimper.
“I don’t want to end it too soon.”
The button to finely pressed trousers popped open with a flick of the wrist and the zipper was lowered tooth by agonizing tooth. Stars burst behind closed lids and the small island bit out a choked moan as a slick tongue worked its way along his face, a tapering finger working in contrast as it rubbed teasingly at the tip of his straining prick through moistened boxers.
“I want this to last forever.”
And suddenly England was crying out with wanton despair, writhing and gathering fistfuls of the sofa’s fabric in trembling hands. It was so hot, so stifling, and he was drowning in the heat as his head spun from the burst of pleasure that positively throbbed between his legs. It was only when he chanced to open his eyes that he realized the incredulous azure eyes staring down at at him. His chest heaved and he opened his mouth to speak, but all that managed to gurgle out was a quiet moan.
“What was that?”
England’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, lolling around uselessly as he tried to formulate words around the swollen mass. He blinked hard and shook his head slightly to clear the fog of lust that clung to the edges of his vision.
“What was what?” he managed to query, trying very hard not to thrust into the tight constraints of his undergarments.
“All I did was lick you,” remarked the young nation, “and you went berserk. I thought you were going to come just from that.”
The small island took a moment to let the other’s words sink in, watching as the lips formed words but not quite absorbing the meaning. As he moved to ask the young nation to please repeat himself, it hit with a force he could only compare to the butt of a rifle being pounded into a sternum. A brilliant red bloomed across his face and neck as he turned to study the delicate floral design of the sofa. His fingers trembled with shame as his back arched slightly in response to a rather sharp twitch of his cock.
“I’m not sure I follow you,” he said offhandedly, his voice struggling to reach a state of nonchalance to counterbalance the burning in his flesh.
America was having none of it.
“I licked you and you went apeshit,” the young nation pressed, his face looming closer to observe the island’s very bright face. “I seriously don’t think your acting skills are that good.”
When he received no response beyond a series of indignant sputtering, America took it upon himself to settle the matter. His fingers resumed their tentative strokes, coaxing the jerks and twitches and throaty groans of a man that was in need of release, yet never allowing the pressure to be more than a soft flap of a butterfly’s wing upon the hardened flesh. With his other hand, he gently took hold of the taut lines of a clenched jaw, turning the trembling features over under his scrutiny. England squirmed under the attention.
“America, p-please,” he breathed, his hips twitching and muscles flexing at every touch. “I - hah! - please, please!”
A sickly sweet smile was the only reply received before a lone eyebrow was engulfed in heat.
The room quaked as the cry began, high and keening and intense as a lithe body bucked beneath tender ministrations, but America held the face still with a steady hand. His mouth worked over the gentle rise of a brow, sucking and smoothing over the fine hairs with a delicate swirl of tongue. With a soft chuckle and a lingering nibble to the sensitive flesh, the younger gingerly drew the waistband up and over the throbbing flesh, allowing the heel of his hand to give a sharp rub to the leaking head as it withdrew.
“I should’ve known those things weren’t just for show,” he whispered. His lips grazed across the length of the opposite brow, only just making enough contact for the island to feel. There was no missing the extra bit of precome that oozed from an angry red tip.
Tears of desperation gathered at the corner of England’s blackened eyes, so intent on achieving the pleasure that lay so close - so close! - that he hardly recognized the burn of shame that sizzled just below the surface of skin. He needed this moment of completion, needed to release the unbearable buildup of heat and pressure. Loud, hoarse moans tore at his throat as a single digit ran just short of the sensitive glands that ached and throbbed, tearing off at a guttural half-sob as something wet and so hot flowed over a too-sensitive brow.
“Please!” he groaned, his entire body thrumming in a vibrant buzz of need.
“Please what, England?” The young voice was soft and sultry, pouring into his body in low tones that seemed to cause the painful rigidity in his prick to flare.
“L-let me - gyuhh!” His body jolted and hips thrust as his cock was engulfed in a dry heat. “Please, please, America, please!”
“What do you want, England?” Teeth grazed just shy of the point of pain along tender flesh. “What do you want me to do?”
“M-make - Oh God!” the country sobbed, his pelvis bucking wildly into the heat that just wasn’t enough. “Make me c-c-come, Alfred, make me come!”
And suddenly the fire raged in his stomach; a rough, beautiful friction played against the throbbing ache and moist, slippery velvet bathed tender flesh in a massage that was too heavenly, too good, and he was being sucked and swallowed through into something too much -
“I love you, Arthur.”
He came. Stars burst behind the whites of wide, unseeing eyes and he cried out, screamed the name of his lover as hips pistoned and tears were shed out of pure relief. It seemed the island laid there convulsing for hours, riding on wave after wave of aftershocks, paying little mind to the trembling hand that smoothed through sweat-drenched hair or stuttered words of encouragement. All that mattered was the pure ecstasy that trilled through every fiber of his being, lulling him into a contented haze.
Only the hushed grunt and an accompanying sigh lifted the poor nation from his stupor, drawing his eyes to the shaking form of his lover. A small voice reminded him that though he had reached completion, the other hadn’t had the opportunity yet. Bubbles of guilt swelled in England’s throat as he feebly voiced his concern.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, seeking the bright blue eyes currently shielded by a wall of mussed blonde locks. “Do you still need help?”
He was taken aback by the answering chortle. “You kidding? I was pretty much done for when I saw your ‘gasm face.”
A furious blush blossomed across porcelain flesh, but England snorted nonetheless.
“Let’s try this again, yeah?” America mumbled, nuzzling the cheek of his former caretaker in a gentle gesture of affection. The island smiled, caressing the other’s neck absently.
“I’ll give it some thought.”
Title Just a Little Fun.
Genre Crack?
Rating NC 17 (NSFW)
Warnings Smut; overly devious America
Summary America discovers a new way to torture poor England.
“So.”
It was a single word consisting of only one syllable; hardly meriting any prompt for real thought or consideration. There was no following subject or verb to link the ugly conjunction to an actual thought; simply an incomplete sentence that would otherwise have earned a longwinded lecture on sentence structures and lack thereof. England wanted to let the younger nation know just how little he thought of the poor excuse for a conversation starter, perhaps even go so far as to suggest a language tutor for the man.
But that simple word combined with the pure seduction that dripped from the husky whisper that wafted over the shell of his ear, all sense of rational thought process fled the from the monarchist’s mind. A helpless shudder ripped through his spine and he sunk a bit deeper into the plush cushioning of the sofa below, tilting his head to expose a generous expanse of throat to the young nation currently straddling his hips. Tongue and lips joined the battle against coherency as they began to work enticingly against the proffered flesh, luring breathy sighs and wonderful spasms of pleasure.
“You feel up for some fun tonight?” Hard, ruthless nips of teeth against flesh sent the poor island into a tailspin of sensation.
“If I wasn’t before,” the small island hissed, grasping either side of a boyish face, “I am now.” He promptly crashed his lips into the other’s with a needy groan.
There was no finesse within the kiss; it was sloppy and rough, their eagerness overshadowing any indication of disgust for the saliva that dribbled down from the corners of lips. Tongues slipped and slid and caressed in a sweet dance as wet smacks echoed off darkened walls of the sitting room. Air seemed to thicken with humidity and heat, twisting around the bodies and crushing them in an inescapable cloud of passion as they pulled and pushed.
“I don’t think you’ve ever been this excited before,” the younger murmured against his lips, his fingers deftly freeing the too-small buttons of a crisply ironed button-down shirt. They trailed over newly revealed flesh with featherlight touches that sensitized every inch of explored area, slithering down slopes of trembling muscles with a teasing touch that left the island squirming and moaning.
“Maybe you’re finally getting - getting better at this,” England gasped as his hands ran a soothing rhythm up and down the strong back.
Immediately the island’s head snapped back, a sharp, guttural groan wrenching past his lips as his fingers seized around the leather fabric beneath his hands. Eyes cinched shut and toes curled at the sharp but beautiful pang that rippled through his body as the hardened nubs were rolled roughly between attentive fingers. He could feel the warmth building and bubbling in his stomach, swirling and festering until it was steadily filtered lower, down to pool into a chasm that was gradually building in pressure and heat into a sweet, heady, delicious pain.
“America, please,” he moaned, rolling his hips in a fruitless effort to gain friction against the steadily hardening flesh beneath his trousers.
“But baby,” the silky voice purred, “we’ve hardly begun.”
Soft, moist lips ran across fevered cheeks as hands ran smoothly down the sides of the older nation’s torso. England had to bite his lip to contain the needy whimper.
“I don’t want to end it too soon.”
The button to finely pressed trousers popped open with a flick of the wrist and the zipper was lowered tooth by agonizing tooth. Stars burst behind closed lids and the small island bit out a choked moan as a slick tongue worked its way along his face, a tapering finger working in contrast as it rubbed teasingly at the tip of his straining prick through moistened boxers.
“I want this to last forever.”
And suddenly England was crying out with wanton despair, writhing and gathering fistfuls of the sofa’s fabric in trembling hands. It was so hot, so stifling, and he was drowning in the heat as his head spun from the burst of pleasure that positively throbbed between his legs. It was only when he chanced to open his eyes that he realized the incredulous azure eyes staring down at at him. His chest heaved and he opened his mouth to speak, but all that managed to gurgle out was a quiet moan.
“What was that?”
England’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, lolling around uselessly as he tried to formulate words around the swollen mass. He blinked hard and shook his head slightly to clear the fog of lust that clung to the edges of his vision.
“What was what?” he managed to query, trying very hard not to thrust into the tight constraints of his undergarments.
“All I did was lick you,” remarked the young nation, “and you went berserk. I thought you were going to come just from that.”
The small island took a moment to let the other’s words sink in, watching as the lips formed words but not quite absorbing the meaning. As he moved to ask the young nation to please repeat himself, it hit with a force he could only compare to the butt of a rifle being pounded into a sternum. A brilliant red bloomed across his face and neck as he turned to study the delicate floral design of the sofa. His fingers trembled with shame as his back arched slightly in response to a rather sharp twitch of his cock.
“I’m not sure I follow you,” he said offhandedly, his voice struggling to reach a state of nonchalance to counterbalance the burning in his flesh.
America was having none of it.
“I licked you and you went apeshit,” the young nation pressed, his face looming closer to observe the island’s very bright face. “I seriously don’t think your acting skills are that good.”
When he received no response beyond a series of indignant sputtering, America took it upon himself to settle the matter. His fingers resumed their tentative strokes, coaxing the jerks and twitches and throaty groans of a man that was in need of release, yet never allowing the pressure to be more than a soft flap of a butterfly’s wing upon the hardened flesh. With his other hand, he gently took hold of the taut lines of a clenched jaw, turning the trembling features over under his scrutiny. England squirmed under the attention.
“America, p-please,” he breathed, his hips twitching and muscles flexing at every touch. “I - hah! - please, please!”
A sickly sweet smile was the only reply received before a lone eyebrow was engulfed in heat.
The room quaked as the cry began, high and keening and intense as a lithe body bucked beneath tender ministrations, but America held the face still with a steady hand. His mouth worked over the gentle rise of a brow, sucking and smoothing over the fine hairs with a delicate swirl of tongue. With a soft chuckle and a lingering nibble to the sensitive flesh, the younger gingerly drew the waistband up and over the throbbing flesh, allowing the heel of his hand to give a sharp rub to the leaking head as it withdrew.
“I should’ve known those things weren’t just for show,” he whispered. His lips grazed across the length of the opposite brow, only just making enough contact for the island to feel. There was no missing the extra bit of precome that oozed from an angry red tip.
Tears of desperation gathered at the corner of England’s blackened eyes, so intent on achieving the pleasure that lay so close - so close! - that he hardly recognized the burn of shame that sizzled just below the surface of skin. He needed this moment of completion, needed to release the unbearable buildup of heat and pressure. Loud, hoarse moans tore at his throat as a single digit ran just short of the sensitive glands that ached and throbbed, tearing off at a guttural half-sob as something wet and so hot flowed over a too-sensitive brow.
“Please!” he groaned, his entire body thrumming in a vibrant buzz of need.
“Please what, England?” The young voice was soft and sultry, pouring into his body in low tones that seemed to cause the painful rigidity in his prick to flare.
“L-let me - gyuhh!” His body jolted and hips thrust as his cock was engulfed in a dry heat. “Please, please, America, please!”
“What do you want, England?” Teeth grazed just shy of the point of pain along tender flesh. “What do you want me to do?”
“M-make - Oh God!” the country sobbed, his pelvis bucking wildly into the heat that just wasn’t enough. “Make me c-c-come, Alfred, make me come!”
And suddenly the fire raged in his stomach; a rough, beautiful friction played against the throbbing ache and moist, slippery velvet bathed tender flesh in a massage that was too heavenly, too good, and he was being sucked and swallowed through into something too much -
“I love you, Arthur.”
He came. Stars burst behind the whites of wide, unseeing eyes and he cried out, screamed the name of his lover as hips pistoned and tears were shed out of pure relief. It seemed the island laid there convulsing for hours, riding on wave after wave of aftershocks, paying little mind to the trembling hand that smoothed through sweat-drenched hair or stuttered words of encouragement. All that mattered was the pure ecstasy that trilled through every fiber of his being, lulling him into a contented haze.
Only the hushed grunt and an accompanying sigh lifted the poor nation from his stupor, drawing his eyes to the shaking form of his lover. A small voice reminded him that though he had reached completion, the other hadn’t had the opportunity yet. Bubbles of guilt swelled in England’s throat as he feebly voiced his concern.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, seeking the bright blue eyes currently shielded by a wall of mussed blonde locks. “Do you still need help?”
He was taken aback by the answering chortle. “You kidding? I was pretty much done for when I saw your ‘gasm face.”
A furious blush blossomed across porcelain flesh, but England snorted nonetheless.
“Let’s try this again, yeah?” America mumbled, nuzzling the cheek of his former caretaker in a gentle gesture of affection. The island smiled, caressing the other’s neck absently.
“I’ll give it some thought.”