Today, my boyfriend and I were in the middle of an intense, fast, love making session. As I was about to orgasm, my boyfriend pulls out and says, "Before we continue, I thought I would let you know that every time I eat your cooking, I get violently sick afterwards". FML
England threw his head back as America continued to thrust in him, revelling in the sensation of being filled by his younger lover. His groans of appreciation heightened as Alfred quickened the pace, slamming harder and faster until his own moans were drowned out by the man's underneath him. However, just as Arthur felt himself slip into the throes of orgasm, America paused his ministrations. Looking very sullen, he pulled out and sat cross legged on the bed with nothing more than an expectant glance at England to alert him that they needed to talk.
"The bloody hell are you doing?!" Arthur squeaked out almost painfully. He was feeling positively murderous towards Alfred now that the younger man had cut short what had the potential to be the most mind blowing orgasm ever. If America took notice of his boyfriend's fury, he didn't show it. Instead he cleared his throat and looked England very seriously in the eyes.
"I need to tell you something," he began, irritatingly slow.
"It better be fucking important!" Arthur raged. "We were in the middle of that! It couldn't have waited until AFTER I finished?" America simply blinked, his expression unchanging.
"You need to know that your cooking is awful and every time I eat it, it makes me violently sick. At first I just thought that it was all that fast food catching up to me, but then I realized Micky D's would never betray me like that. So it has to be you. I'm not the only one. I've talked to France and Germany too. Not to mention my tourists to your country."
"What. The. HELL, AMERICA!"
"There's no reason to get that angry. But not even Dr. Who can make any American stand by the poison that you make."
A tiny tear of frustration and sexual tension slid down the Brit's face as his face heated up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "You withheld my orgasm, for that?!" The last word was really squeaked rather than said, but the poor man could feel his erection wilting more and more with each slight to his food.
"I mean, blood sausage? Seriously, dude?"
At that, Arthur slammed the nearest pillow into Alfred's head and stalked out of the room, officially finished with the conversation.
A/n: I'm an avid reader of FML and as soon as I saw that post USUK came to mind. I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry ;A; It was so much fun, though, there may be more soon...
