He's The One Eye Love!
I apologize for the title…I couldn't resist…
Title based on this song by Heywood Banks: http: / / www . youtube . com / watch?v=GZFiJcSEBOI
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters in the series.
Pairing: US/UK
Warnings: GAY PORN, skullfucking, teen-ish!America
Original prompt: http: / / hetalia-kink . livejournal . com / 20236 . html?thread=77821964#t77821964
"An older teen (colonial) America manages to get pirate!England to show him what's under his eyepatch: an open hole where his eye has been hollowed out from some old wound. It turns America on, so he gives him a good hard skullfucking right in the eye socket. I'll leave it up to anon whether England likes it or not."
…This ended up being sillier and, oddly, sappier than what I had originally planned for it to be…
**This has been edited and there are some extra descriptions in the sex scenes. After reading it over a few more times after posting it on the kink meme, I decided that I wasn't quite satisfied.
EDIT: All this time...it's been so long since I wrote this...and even though there's so much focus on Arthur's eyes...I never ONCE mentioned his eye lashes! How could I have not noticed that all this time! Realizing this terrible mishap, I've added in some descriptions that include Arthur's eye lashes in a couple of spots.
Ah…the open ocean…the smell of the sea…nothing but clear skies and blue horizon stretching on for miles…surely this is heave- …wait, what the fuck was that crash!
"Alfred!" England came down from his peaceful mind set, the serene smile slipping off of his face only to be replaced with an annoyed grimace as he looked at younger nation that had oh so gracefully tripped over his mopping bucket and smashed into the mizzenmast. Poor lad couldn't even handle being a swabbie! What compelled England to agree to bringing the boy along to experience the ocean on a proper ship he'd never understand (it certainly was not the way America's boyish face lit up at the words "pirate ship" and "sailing").
America gave his caretaker a sheepish smile, "sorry, Arthur…" he winced at the glare being thrown at him. He knew that he was messing up and he knew he wasn't any good at this sort of labor…well, that wasn't true; he probably would be doing the work just fine if he weren't so distracted (and walking around on the swaying boat was difficult to get used to…England had said something about 'sea legs' but he didn't really get what the older man meant).
Of course, it was nothing new. He had known Arthur for years, decades even (despite his young appearance, but let's face it, nations just don't age the same way physically as what humans do), this certainly wasn't the first time that he was looking at that eye patch that always graced the right side of England's face. He often wondered in passing if it was just a fashion statement; probably not, he gathered. After all, he's always wearing it, even on the nights when they'd shared a bed, he'd kept it on, in sleep, in the bath, it seemed like he'd never seen England without it. He couldn't help but be curious.
What was new was the more elaborate long red coat, the hat (England called them a 'justaucorp' and a 'tricorne', but America didn't understand why 'coat' and 'hat' weren't good enough), and the pirate jargon that was being thrown around by the crew members on the ship, and of course, by Arthur. If that wasn't a turn on then America clearly had no idea what the phrase meant.
England huffed and sighed upon looking at America's guilty expression, "It's fine, Alfred. It's just a little water. Are you hurt?" He walked over, worriedly touching the side of his charge's face. When the younger nation shook his head in the negative, he smiled tenderly at him. "Good, now be a good lad and let the hands know that I'll be retiring for the night."
"Alright!" America beamed at England and began walking away, stopping shortly after and turning back around, "Uh…Arthur…whose hands am I telling?"
England's eyebrows rose at the question…oh, there is so much work to be done…
The nation heaved a sigh as he roughly plopped down onto the hard cot. It had certainly been one of his more stressful days. Not only had he had to deal with America's constant flub-ups, he also had to deal with those obvious glances that were cast his way and had to pretend that he didn't notice them as much as what he did, honestly, what was that boy thinking? He stared at the ceiling a bit before allowing his eye to slide shut, willing all thoughts out of his mind and for his body to finally relax.
"Arthur!" he jumped at the loud voice, eye snapping open and groaning internally at the intrusion as America threw the door open and grinned. "I told everyone! They said to rest well."
He could feel a headache coming on, but ignored it; he couldn't find the ability to feel angry when seeing the sincerity in those blue eyes. "Thank you, Alfred."
"You're welcome," America closed the door behind him as he let himself in, sitting down on the edge of the cot by England's legs. He glanced at England before turning his gaze to the floor, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say, he never was very good at thinking things through.
The green eyed nation pushed himself up into a sitting position, watching America stare at the floorboards with a somewhat lost look on his face. "Is there something that you needed from me, Alfred?" he asked, hoping that whatever it was wouldn't take long to mull through. He blinked as the boy turned his head towards him, brows narrowed quixotically over blue irises.
America inhaled deeply before posing the question that had been on his mind for years, "Arthur, what's behind the eye patch?" he gave the older man a very serious look which was returned with a look of mild bewilderment.
"There isn't anything under there, Alfred. Why do you think I wear this?"
America let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding in and stared at England. It was one thing to imagine something, it was another to have imagined it and find out the truth in it. England was missing an eye, it was something that America had definitely considered before, and just as in the past, a quiver ran down his spine at the thought of it. "Can I see it?" he blurted it out without really thinking, but he couldn't find it within himself to regret it.
It's human nature to have some level of interest in things outside of the norm. England was aware of this, but upon the thought that perhaps all of the stolen glances that America had cast on him were simply done out of this sort of curiosity was both relieving and oddly disappointing (so much so, that he couldn't even be bothered to correct the boy's grammatical error). "I suppose, it isn't exactly an attractive sight though, Alfred. We both know how easily you scare; I won't be blamed if you can't sleep tonight." As he slowly moved to remove the eye patch, he in no way missed the excited look that found its way on to his colony's face. He couldn't help but feel strangely jealous of his own eye (or lack there of, in this case).
America watched intently as the fabric slipped from England's face and lay to rest on one side of the bed. He swallowed thickly as he turned his gaze back toward England, focusing on the right eye that was no longer there. He didn't see a hole; instead he saw a closed eyelid, rimmed with short dark blond lashes. It looked flatter than what a normal eyelid would look like when closed. His brows furrowed and he slowly lifted his hand, his index finger lightly tracing over the lid and feeling how it was hollow beneath. His eyes widened as an unexpected jolt struck through his groin.
His breath shuddered as he attempted to take control of his lungs and breathe normally, "can you open it?" he noticed that England looked extremely uncomfortable (he wasn't sure if the discomfort came from having his eyelid touched or the way he was being looked at), his legs crossed and his hands placed awkwardly on his ankles, his eye shifted a bit, as though he wasn't quite sure where he should be looking.
"It's a bit difficult," his gaze flickered back up to America's face, "the eye would normally hold the lip up a bit, with it gone, it just stays shut on its own. The muscles are functioning, though."
America hummed thoughtfully as he ran a thumb over the lid, pushing it up slightly, "A-Alfred!" England stuttered, clearly not expecting the other to actually open it.
"I just want to look…" his own eyes glazed over, he could feel his palms sweating; he was looking forward to this more than he thought he would. He added more pressure with his thumb slowly pushing the thin film of skin up higher until it was completely opened. He stared at the gap, pink, it wasn't a large black hole the way he had imagined it to be. It was a pink color, even though the eye was gone, the muscles were still there.
He pulled back slightly, taking his focus off of just the socket and looking at England's entire face. The look of discomfort had intensified. The older nation had his good eye closed and his brows scrunched slightly, a light blush running over his cheek bones. America had imagined it before, England looking like this, face flushed…and on a bed, doing various sorts of things. Reality, however, is nothing like what he had imagined. It was a thousand times better.
He kept close watch on England's face as he played with the man's right eye socket. Thumb adding and releasing pressure on the lid that it held open, his other hand moving to allow his right middle finger to trace along the lower lid, gauging England's reactions to the movements. As his finger ran over the lower lid, feeling along the short lashes, he could feel England tremble slightly. He gulped, at this rate, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back for much longer. He slipped his middle and index fingers into the socket, running them along the smooth muscle on the inside. He heard England gasp and felt two hands come up to push on his chest.
"Alfred! What in the world," the words were cut short as chapped lips pressed against his own. England was shocked that America would do this sort of thing. He grit his teeth as the fingers in his eye socket pushed and soothed over the muscles, it was a feeling he would never be able to describe, a pressure that was neither completely pleasant nor unpleasant; it was simply strange. A wet tongue grazed over his mouth, he opened it to protest only to have the organ forced in and running across his own. He groaned, trying to talk around the mouth covering his and failing terribly, he pushed more harshly at his attacker's chest as he tried to pull his head back. Finding his efforts futile, he steeled resolve and bit at the tongue lapping at his teeth.
America gasped as he pulled away; his left thumb releasing the eyelid and swiping at the tip of his stinging tongue. "Alfred…" he looked at England, his fingers still in the hole, the lid now closed over them, "what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" his hand was slapped away and he watched intently as the right eyelid closed the rest of the way, making England look as though he were winking.
America took in the clearly angered expression on England's face, "I just want to make you feel good," America fixed his eyes to the side, not wanting to see the fury in that gaze.
England sighed, a hand coming up to massage one of his temples, "I…appreciate that, but that isn't the sort of thing that you should be doing with me." America's face had turned back towards him and he took note of the confused look that graced his features, "I mean, that sort of kiss…" he glanced down between the youth's legs, his arousal apparent, "that sort of thing, should be done with someone you love." He had never bothered to explain this subject to America before, he'd constantly put it off, naively saying that it was too soon (really, it was just an awkward conversation that he didn't want to have).
"But I do love you, Arthur." America took England's face in his hands, his thumbs tracing over his pinkening cheeks. Seeing the worried look on the other's brow he reiterated, "I do, I'm serious…" he leaned in again, slowly, gently brushing his lips over England's.
England blinked once and sighed through his nose, he knew that America wouldn't joke about something like this, but at the same time, he also realized that America is young and often fickle; he could and likely would change his mind later. Even so, if this is what the boy truly wanted right now, who was he to deny him? He'd be lying if he said that he didn't hold those sorts of feelings for him. America was the only one he felt he'd ever truly loved (as reluctant as he was to admit it out loud). He pulled back a bit, away from those lips, and smirked, repeating the words that he had spoken earlier, "well then, I won't be blamed if you can't sleep tonight..." he caught America's smile against his lips and felt his face being pulled at, the American trying to get their faces impossibly closer as their mouths opened and their tongues began dancing along each other.
"Arthur," England shivered as America practically moaned his name as they parted, both taking time to strip away their garments, abandoning (or in America's case, tossing) them on the floor.
They drank in the sight of each others bodies. The shade, the scars, as their eyes roamed carelessly, they each tried to memorize each dip and curve. Soon, hands, lips, teeth, and tongues joined in the exploration. England lapped and nipped at America's neck; trying to find any sensitive spots that may be lurking there, while America ran his hands down England's back, back up, and into his hair, pulling his soon to be lover's face away from his neck to capture that lapping tongue into his own mouth.
As their tongues tangled together, America kept his hands in England's hair, massaging at his scalp. He ran his tongue over the older man's teeth, the roof of his mouth, anywhere that he could reach; he wanted to taste every part, every inch of England.
England's mouth was just as busy as America's, nipping at his lips and sucking on his tongue, using every trick he knew to try and blow his charge's mind. His hands were even busier, they mapped out the young man's neck, chest, thighs, and ass, lingering on each sensitive spot that he found.
It was America that pulled away first, "A-Arthur, how…how are we going to do this?" he panted, lungs begging for the air that they'd been so cruelly denied. England gave him a feral grin and chuckled lowly.
"We can do it however you'd like, love."
The statement shot straight to his loins and he groaned loudly as England's fingers grazed over the head of his cock. "Then, get on your knees…" he gently pushed England from the bed and towards the floor. He stood up, towering above him in their new position. He licked his lips as he was given an expectant look. He placed his right hand on England's forehead, forcing him to continue looking up. He shuddered out a breath and pressed his tip against those lips that had been so skillfully kissing him just moments before.
England smirked and opened his mouth, completely sure that what his boy was silently asking for was a blow job, only to be surprised when the tip swept across his bottom lip, his top lip, and continued up along the right side of his face where America's left thumb was now gently pulling at the limp eyelid. "A-Alfred?" he stuttered worriedly, "what are you doing?"
America looked down at him, eyes half lidded, "you said that I can do it however I want, right?"
It's true, he had said it. It was rather shocking that this is what America was choosing; in any case it was obvious that it was going to be uncomfortable, especially if he went in dry. "…my mouth first," he replied warily, hoping it would be answer enough.
America grinned, clearly elated that he wasn't being denied the chance to live out his fantasy. He moved the tip back towards England's mouth, pausing in front of it. When he made no move to continue and push it in, the Englishman took the initiative and leaned forward to lap at the sensitive head, delighting in the strangled moan that spilled from America's throat. He pushed further, taking the head completely into his mouth and sucking lightly, circling his tongue over it, before taking more in, licking at the foreskin and running the wet muscle under the base of the phallus. He tried his best not to swallow, wanting to make sure that the dick that was soon to be penetrating hisfucking eye socket was as wet as it could possibly get.
America's body trembled as his cock was licked and sucked, this was also something that he had imagined, and again, reality beat fantasy. It beat his hand, hands down. The feel of England's mouth around him and of his finger's lightly massaging his balls and fondling his ass was by far the best thing he'd ever felt.
His hips involuntarily jerked at a particularly hard suck and he could feel England gag, throat convulsing around his length. He couldn't hold back the whimper that slipped past his closed lips.
He pulled back slightly after gagging around America, regaining his composure and lapping once more at the head, pointedly ignoring the saliva that was surly dripping down his chin. Once England was satisfied with the job he'd done, he pulled back completely and lifted his head up, a smile spreading as he eyed America's face, flushed with eyes that screamed desire.
The lad seemed dazed; he was panting and staring down at England as though he were still lost in a dream. England smirked, wanting America to come out of his pleasure induced high, at least long enough to finish, "Alfred…fuck it" he watched as the boy's eyes widened slightly and gave a smirk back.
"I plan to," red was still staining his cheeks as he used his thumb to hold the eyelid open, drinking in the sight of the pink that had lay hidden beneath the lid. He glanced once more at England, silently asking once more if this was really alright, England only smirked and closed his good eye.
He moaned as he pushed in, it was tight, the head of his shaft just barely squeezing in despite its wetness. "It won't go in anymore…" he frowned slightly.
The sensation was odd; he could feel the pressure against the sides of the eye socket, pressing into the skin and bone. England snorted, opening his eye once more, "what, you expected to fit everything in? An eye isn't that big Alfred, and even if the eye is gone, the muscles are still there, of course it isn't that deep" (or that wide, he silently added, how the lad even managed to get the tip in was puzzling. He considered this as his good eye crossed in order to get a better, or at least much closer, look at the youth's girth). "Just move, Alfred. It'll be fine."
America nodded, pulling back out before pressing right back in. He monitored the action fixedly, keeping his focus solely on the eye socket. It was only the head that fit, but it still felt wonderful. As the tightness engulfed him and he pushed further back in he could feel the ridge where the head and the shaft connected press against the sides of the eye, the bone digging in lightly. He shook and repeated the motion thrusting in and out of the tight hole. As he kept his left hand against the side of England's face, his right worked on the base of his cock, stroking the heated area and massaging downwards over his sack.
He still couldn't describe the feeling of having his eye socket penetrated. It seemed like the pressure was building up inside of it, next to that was just being able to see, opening his eye to see his lover's pelvis thrusting into his face (literally) in such close proximity was a queer experience, and the oddest feeling yet was his eyelid and how the delicate flesh would sometimes catch while America was thrusting, or how he could feel the fine hairs on the lid shifting in a way that almost tickled. He was surprised to realize that the feeling of the corona rubbing against his upper and lower eyelids was unusually arousing.
America was slowly losing control of himself, his hips were jerking in swifter movements, and the rhythm that he'd built was falling apart, he tried to relax. He stared at England, eyes drifting down his chest and abdomen, "ah, you're hard…" he huffed out between thrusts, "it doesn't feel bad?"
England groaned when he opened his mouth to answer, he honestly hadn't noticed just how his body had been effected, clearly he was much kinkier than he had given himself credit for (or perhaps, it was simply because it was America doing it), "…not bad…" he managed to choke out, his hand moving down to grasp at his own weeping member, jerking into it rigidly.
"I'm glad…" America watched as England worked his hand over himself; somehow, while getting off using England's eye socket was wonderful, England getting off on him doing it was much more of a turn on. He picked up his pace again, his left hand now gripping at the back of England's head as he humped his face, feeling more confident now that he knew that England was at least enjoying this enough to stay hard. America grunted and pulled England's head roughly against his groin, his hips pistoning. The only sounds in the room where his own moans, England's muffled groans, and the sound of skin on skin, the skin of his cock against the flesh of England's eye socket, of his fingers digging into England's scalp, and the skin of England's palm against his own cock. The sounds were driving them both closer to climax.
As America's vision blurred he glanced down at England's face, the man's mouth hung agape, his left eye half-lidded in pleasure, cheeks heavily flushed, America's cock thrusting roughly in and out of where his right eye should be, as America watched England's tongue flick out to lap over his upper lip, he felt his entire body stiffen and heard a garbled version of England's name spilling out past his throat. Before he could even fully registered what had happened, he came in the socket, the thick liquid lining the muscles inside. He continued to pump into the hole, not wanting to come down from the high just yet.
England felt the pressure in his eye socket increase to an almost unbearable amount as America pushed in faster and harder than he had before, a strong burst filling the gap and pushing the muscles back as far as they could go soon after. It was painful, but that didn't stop him from pulling roughly at his dick, his hand pumping the shaft and his thumb teasing the head. It wasn't until after America pulled out of the hole and he felt the cum dripping out and down across his cheek that he screamed weakly, his own spend spilling across his hand and thighs.
They both panted, their bodies gradually calming down. America leaned forward, sweeping a kiss against England's still wheezing lips, tangling their tongues sloppily once more. He grabbed his abandoned shirt to wipe away at the cum on England's face, being especially careful as he cleaned out his eye socket, making sure to hold the eyelid up properly so that it wouldn't close and trap the liquid inside.
Meanwhile, England worked on cleaning up his legs and wiping off his cock. When they were finished with the clean up, they looked at each other and exchanged tender smiles. England guiding America back to the bed where he intertwined his fingers with the younger nation's and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. Chuckling, the blue eyed youth lay with England, gazing into a single emerald pool, and responded with a peck to his lips.
"Arthur, I love you" America smiled as he curled his arm around England's waist and held him against his chest, nuzzling his nose into the blond hair.
England chuckled. Finding it hard to respond, he simply rests his forehead against America's chest, kissing above his heart and mumbles awkwardly, "you're the only one I've loved."
BONUS: HOW ENGLAND LOST HIS EYE
"So, how did you lose that eye, anyway?" America looked down at England from his position propped up on his elbows.
England looked at the youth, head still resting comfortably against the stiff pillow as he considered the question, "do you remember when you were younger and would play with your silverware when you weren't allowed to leave the table after refusing to eat something that I made and I'd tell you to knock it off or you'd poke an eye out?" watching as America seemed to think on it and nod in the affirmative, England continued, "it was basically the same thing, only with a cutlass instead of a fork, fucking Frog should know better than to give little kids weaponry."
The long standing animosity between England and France suddenly made sense…
BONUS: UNUSED LINES
I originally had a bunch of really bad lines that I was going to have America use in order to add some more humor into the story…I decided not to use them…(I like the story much better without them) These are the best two out of the bunch.
(The original "Alfred…fuck it" scene)
"I'll give you no quarter, Arthur. I'm going to belay you with my pin…"
"…What?" England looked up at the boy dumbfounded, momentarily ignoring the cock in his face, "…Alfred, belaying has nothing to do with-" his words cut off as America began rubbing his dick against his cheek, groaning out England's name as he did so, "…oh, fuck it…"
"I plan to."
(The original "America notices England's hard on" scene)
"Oh, you're getting hard, it looks like someone's Roger is jolly" if England hadn't had a cock shoved into his eye socket, he'd have belted the damn boy for misusing the words in such a way (does he honestly not even know what a Jolly Roger is or is he just trying to be funny? The damned git).