Summary: America is having his 200th birthday and planning to finally confess his love to England. England, not knowing this, tried so hard to tell himself that America's gone forever and he becomes super frustrated. It's kind of fluffy and angsty like a sad sheep and it jumps around a lot but it's pretty fast paced.
Warnings: USUK, Yaoi, Lemons. I do not own Hetalia
A Thousand Year Wait...
"Hey… what's with England?" France casually asked Canada, trying to stay quiet.
England looked sad; he looked depressed. His head was on the table and France could swear the country hadn't looked up in almost fifteen minutes. When England's in this mood, it's pretty dangerous to disturb him so France didn't touch him.
"I-I think it's because of America's Independence Day," Canada whispered in a voice smaller than his own back to France, "it's only a few days away."
England couldn't even normally see Canada, even so, he heard him and it made him snap his neck up.
"There is nothing wrong!" He barked at the two blonde nations that were quite taken back by such impulsive behavior from someone as refined as England himself. On his way out of the room, he didn't once look up, back, or anywhere but forward.
It was what he'd been trying to do for centuries. Trust me; he really wanted to look back more than anything.
Back in the room, Canada and France were quietly talking to each other. Canada didn't really have an explanation but France knew exactly what was irking his rival and he was concerned.
"Wow… more than two hundred years, and he still takes this so terribly," sighing, France pulled on Canada's curl and winked, "At least you don't do that, right, Ca~na~da~."
"Ah… ahaha… yea…" Canada nervously replied.
"You know, I thought it was just sexual frustration and tension between the two, but it's a lot more than that. England really misses the Amerique."
God, the more that England thought about it, the more he wanted to pull out his most powerful black magic book and curse the heavens out of all of the nations.
Well… Fuck, he couldn't do that. No matter how much power he had—he was only England. He can only do so much… And that's how he lost him.
In a fight for dominance and power and possessiveness. Sinceke before, how he'll have to castigate himself and stow away his love for eternity.
The thought just brought stinging tears to his eyes. That night he just fell asleep, refusing to look at the five messages and two missed calls from America. If the hero didn't need him then, he doesn't need him now. America won, he celebrates Independence Day to glorify himself. It just reminded England how weak he was, how he'll never get to … hold the boy in his arms li
America was getting pumped. He was so happy! Independence Day wasn't just his separation from England, it was his birthday too. There was going to be so much food there like hamburgers and coke and pizza, everything that everyone else was going to bring to the party, fireworks, hotdogs—he just could not wait.
Trembling with excitement, America shouted over to his friend Canada who had been pretty well acknowledged lately, "Dude! This party is gonna rock the fucking world!"
"Yes, it's coming to be a really grand celebration," Canada silently commented back to his much more outstanding counterpart. With a slightly anxious puff of air while thinking about the incident with England the other day, he started to hand up the red, white, and blue lights in the room.
Canada seems a little off… I mean, dude, he should be like so totally pumped!
"So, who'd you invite?" Canada asked his brother to try to lead him to the source of his worry.
"You know, the hero's gotta invite everyone, duh! Everybody's coming! Even Sealand's coming."
"America, you know, just because you invite everyone doesn't mean everyone is going to come," what was it going to take to get this blockhead to get a hint?
"Huh? Do you know someone that's not? I made sure everyone cleared up their schedules that day though…" In a rush, America grabbed his planning book and started rapid-fire flipping papers.
"I don't mean it like that…" Canada tried to rephrase himself.
"Then what?" America stopped flipping suddenly.
"It's… nothing. You're party's going to be great."
Canada's smile was well, fake. But it's a smile nonetheless.
Later that day, back at England's place, he hadn't gotten out of bed. It was 5 in the afternoon. When the blinds slowly flowed in the draft in the room, a little bit of light hit England's face and he just grumbled and pulled the comforter over his head.
It was strange to see sunny weather—god, even the weather was shining down on America's birthday tomorrow. But why at his place? He felt anything but sunny and bright today.
At about 5:30, a trio of nations rushed into his place. The group included France, Italy, Russia, but no sign of America.
The storm of feet woke England up and he slowly rubbed his eyes to see what was going on. He didn't feel so hot… Actually, he felt very hot like he was on fire. His eyes wouldn't open and he thought they'd roll into the back of his head. A giant hammer was hitting him upside the head to give him the worst headache he had in centuries.
The group of nations showed up at England's bedside and France started violently shaking him, "Wake up, Angleterre!"
"Bloody hell, stop shaking me," England replied in a weak voice. England's arm fell on his own head as France had let go of him.
"He'z alive!" France cried with glee, "But, my oh my, he's very zick!"
"Mr. England doesn't look so good," England heard Italy's voice and was about to ask him what he was doing here, "It's alright, I asked Germany and he said I could come see you!"
"Oh…"
"He is très malade!" France felt the part of England's forehead with the back of his hand. He was burning up, "Italy! Get a wet cloth!"
"Yes, sir! Lucky for you, I carry a lot of white cloth to make surrender flags out of," Italy went and wet the cloth and brought it back to France.
After placing the cloth on his head, they all just took a step back and looked at poor England. He was red, sweaty, and hot. If America was here, maybe he could help…
Impulsively, France left the room and called America, "Zitz an emergency Ameriquè! Zit'z Angleterre, he'z very zick!"
Back inside, England didn't notice that France was gone because his eyes were still closed. He opened them slightly to see Italy leaning over him.
"Mr. England, how about I make you some pasta? It should make you feel better!" Italy volunteered kindly.
"I don't really feel like eating anything, Italy, thank you though."
Russia stepped in, "Either you eat that or I'm going to fill you up with vodka."
It wasn't a quite menacing tone but the way that Russia said it, a grown man would've shit himself.
"Okay… Okay…" England nervously winced at Russia's options.
"I'm on it!" Italy ran off to the kitchen to start making his world-famous pasta. It was much better than anything that England could make so it was alright.
About twenty minutes later, America showed up in England's bedroom. England shot right up from his bed, startled, "A-America?!"
"The hero is here, don't worry England. I've got this covered!" America swooped over to England's bedside.
Let's get one thing straight, England did not want to see America. Right now, America was making him suffer with his ignorance. There was nothing more that he wanted than isolation… well, America's love, but that's sure as hell never going to happen.
"Lemme put a burger on your head; that should work!" America's large hand reached down to place the burger on England's forehead. Dear god, the Brit's whole body trembled as the hand came down on him.
"Huh?"
"What…?"
Oh now he'd done it. England had slapped the America's hand out of the way. The hand was hanging in the air because America was so shocked that he didn't even take it back. An apologetic expression began to appear on America's face.
"Don't touch me…" A low growl left England. It sounded dangerous. Had America been anybody else, he would've left the room, ran away, and secluded themselves for the next two centuries. But, it was America.
"What the hell, dude? I'm just trying to help," the younger nation retorted rather angrily. What was with England? There was an uncomfortable silence as England gripped his blanket trembling, scared. He wanted to cry. So much frustration was stored inside of him. All the frustration of three hundred years was locked away in his heart.
"L-L-Leave…" Voice cracking, shaking violently, he was dying on the inside. Please leave… don't hurt me anymore.
He was warning America to not take a step closer.
"England…?"
The British man froze when he heard America say his name. It was getting painful to hold back the tears. I mean, three hundred years? That's a long time. Nothing looked right, nothing sounded right to him. The pain of holding back… the pain of watching the one he loved, without a single idea in his mind as to what was happening.
It hurts. It bloody fucking hurts, America!
Stepping in to save England's pride and dignity, strangely enough, Russia turned to America.
"I think it'll better if you leave," Russia told him in a rather cheery, creepy tone.
America stepped forward; it's his job as the hero-
"He will be fine, America."
Russia's words were a little sterner this time. America just sighed, confused, lost, and feeling completely useless, he grabbed his jacket.
"I-I hope you feel better, dude," America murmured softly as he walked out the door.
England looked up. There was a concoction of feelings like sadness, surprise, and remorse. His eyes never moved from the door as if he was carefully studying the woodwork but he was actually just waiting for America to come back.
Italy came over from the kitchen and gently patted the blond on his right shoulder, "It's okay, Mr. England, you can cry now."
Slowly, he just looked up at Italy who was smiling sympathetically at him. Even Italy, who seldom opened his eyes, could tell that England was on the verge of tears. One more word out of America… and the damn would've burst.
"Mon ami, it'll all be okay."
Condolence wasn't working. There was no question about it, the only person who could fix this was America.
"I have to go to the loo," England said hesitantly before getting up to go. No one could hear him. He was the great England.
"You used to be so great…"
It burned. Every memory of that day burned him like the acid rain on that day. He walked to the bathroom that was on the other side of the giant house. On his way there, he passed the main room and noticed the pitter patter of rain from the gray sky. Gray skies every day, just how he liked it.
Putting his hand on the door, he pushed through to go outside to the most secluded area of the yard. There was only one place where people could stand and still see that area of the yard. America just happened to be standing there. Better put, he was sitting in his car, waiting to leave when he saw England come outside.
Why did England come outside?
As soon as that thought hit America's head, another memory followed up just as sharply as the day that it happened.
"You can cry in the rain and no one will ever see," England's voice was soft as he talked to the little blond boy next to him. It probably wasn't the most grownup idea to bring a child into the rain.
The rain pattered on their hair and clothes and the grass in front of them. Suddenly, America grabbed onto England, embracing him with his tiny body.
"Huh? W-What are you doing, America?" He shot a confused and uncomfortable look at the younger nation.
Big blue eyes stared back up at him with a painful expression, "Don't cry, England."
…
Wringing the boy off of his arm, he pulled him into an embrace, sheltering him from the pelting rain because England was going to make sure the rain never hit America.
Snapping back into reality, America slowly mouthed the words, "Don't. Cry. England…"
Sadly, America was sitting inside the car with the windows up so England couldn't hear him anyways.
It took almost five minutes for America to go back into reality and by that time, England had already gone inside. An unexpected feeling crept into his hands and body. He wanted to hold England the same he did for him during his childhood. He wanted to shield England. In his heart, he did not know that he was hurting England.
Back inside the house, England started beating himself up again over the thought of being lovers with America. Why would America love someone like him? Sure, he was better than everyone else but America probably thought it was 'weird' to love someone who had an almost fatherly relationship.
Whatever. Who cares? Nobody. Nobody could see a memory of America every time they turned a corner or some dirty fantasy in their mind when they blinked so it really didn't matter to anyone else.
…
It was the day of the party—correction: the night of the party. Actually it was only about four in the morning and England insisted that all of his surprises visitors and caretakers left yesterday and that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.
Standing in front of his mirror, England stared his doppelganger down. He combed his hair like a gentleman before picking up the fragile present that he was going to give to America. After making sure everything was perfect, he cuffed up his shirt. The present was wrapped in blue with a red ribbon; 'twas so American.
It was too perfect.
…
At six, England casually showed up at the party. There were some other countries there already. Correction, many countries. France was hitting on the girls there and Japan had brought over a bunch of scary video games for everyone to watch. Germany and Italy were doing their own thing. Romano was yelling at Spain who was trying to chill. It looked like Germany was yelling at Austria and Prussia while Italy tried to calm him. Canada was trying to learn to be social by watching France.
And the middle of the truly grand party was America, standing in front of his giant seven foot colorful cake. Some girl was up there talking to him.
"Hey, you almost dropped that, dude, gotta be more careful!"
Wait… Huh? Oh, England had subconsciously walked towards the birthday boy and almost dropped the present that he was holding. He couldn't help it. He was watching the beautifulness in front of him. Heart beating fast and palms sweating, England tried to laugh nervously.
"Ah…haha, s-sorry," the blonde's throat felt scratchy and he was stuttering.
"You okay? Are you better from yesterday?" In an attempt to feel his temperature, America placed the back of his hand on England's forehead. Instantly, England's face flushed. Get your own instant flush England here! Activate with a touch of America's fingers.
Again with the slapping… England's hand quickly swatted away America's.
"England…?" America didn't even bother to move his hand away when England smacked it. He was shocked even though it had happened twice.
Somewhere deep in his heart, he was scared. He was scared that England didn't need him anymore to be there and watch his back. Cutting international ties with England seemed like such a beyond bizarre idea and it terrified him.
Cover up, England, cover up! "Sorry, America I'm a tad bit under the weather. I don't want you to catch anything."
There was a pregnant pause. The awkwardness just hung in the air like a thick mist making everything unclear to the two of them.
"S-So, where should I put this?" the lighter blonde held up his bright red and blue box.
"That's so totally awesome dude! You shouldn't have!" Which meant America was expecting something truly awesome. "I'll take it from your hands cuz it looks like a special gift and all."
This made England happy until he realized that he might make physical contact with his former colony and just the thought was enough to beat at the speed of a race horse's. Involuntarily shaking, the older nation scrunched his fingers so they didn't even seem to be there as he handed America the present who happily took it with two hands opened wide.
Now that that encounter's over, time to go get some drinks.
Everything was set up to England's liking. It's as if that lunatic had planned this party specifically for England. The party food even included scones. If that doesn't have England written over it, I don't know what does.
He arranged himself properly and mannerly like a gentleman at one of the colorful tables with no one else at it. At the moment, he didn't care much for people but Japan joined him anyway.
Japan said it was awkward back at his table with the Italy brothers and Germany. Well it was okay until France showed up at their table.
"Haha, I understand, feel free to stay," England smiled warmly at the island nation.
"Thank you very much," Japan responded in his heavy Japanese accent.
Japan was one of the few people that England was even friends with. The black haired guy was pretty chill. He could start a conversation and the things that his country came up with were strangely super cool.
…
"England-san, don't you suppose you've drank too much," Japan looked concerned for the great British nation who was clearly more drunk than he should've been.
"I-I don't sup-ha-ose I know what yer saying, I'm perrrfectly fine," way too drunk. Luckily, he could still walk. He did this so that he could numb his feelings and perhaps act okay when he was around America.
It was about three hours into the party at ten o' clock and dinner was served and everything. It was time for the giant colorful cake and singing to America. The cake that America had gotten was clearly a gem on its own. It stood about six feet tall with nine layers all lined with candles that someone clearly took way too long to place.
England dragged himself to larger than life but he had to say, it was really worth that whole fifty-foot drag because he got to see that nostalgic smile on America's face. It made him really want to hug his former colony except that he couldn't take any form of contact with him.
After the huge cake celebration and lots of poppin' whiskey bottles, it was back to the table for England. He just sat there; staring off at god knows what. Suddenly, the mike on the stage was being used with the slight static coming through that was soon replaced by America's kind of kiddish voice.
It immediately caught the drunken country's attention and he stared right up onto the stage where the birthday boy was standing, as proud as ever.
He tapped on the mike to make sure it was working before spitting into it, "HEY Y'ALL, DUDES! YOU'RE SO TOTALLY AMAZIN' FOR MAKING IT! FO' SHO!"
A chant started to rise from the audience going, "Speech… Speech, speech, speech!"
The chant gradually grew louder until America started to talk on the mike, flattered by the love he was getting from the other nations. Save England, he was just kind of sitting there, pretending not to care.
"I don't think I'm gonna do a speech, I think I'm gonna do a totally awesome song instead!"
Everybody quieted down. Even England seemed interested in what was going on in front of him. America singing a song? Probably something stupid about him being a hero or him being oh-so great and all.
With a moment's hesitation, America cleared his throat and ques the music to start.
All of the lights dim down and a faint piano chords and a low cello in the background can be heard. It is truly magic.
"Heart beats fast-
Colors and promises…
How to be brave? How can I love when I'm afraid...?
To fall
But watching you stand alone,
All of my doubt certainly goes away somehow."
There was something about America's voice or it might just be how he was connecting himself to the lyrics. Better yet, how England was connecting himself to these lyrics.
No one was anticipating a love song- nobody at ALL. But nonetheless it was beautiful.
Every note was perfectly in pitch and when he asked, "How can I love when I'm afraid", the words struck at England's heart like arrows.
His eyes went wide and they were almost teary listening to the rest of the song.
I'll let the song speak for you…
"One step closer…"
One step closer to what…
"I have died everyday
Waiting for you…
Darling, don't be afraid,
I have loved you…
For a thousand years;
I'll love you for a thousand more!"
"S-Stop it, America…"
"Time stands still and beauty in all he is…
I will be brave,
I will not let anything take away standing in front of me…
Every breath, every hour,
Has come to this
One step closer…
I have died everyday
Waiting for you…
Darling, don't be afraid,
I have loved you…
For a thousand years;
I'll love you for a thousand more!
And all along,
I believed that I would find you!
Time has brought your heart to me…
I have loved you –
For a thousand years,
I'll love you for a thousand more~!"
England staggered out of his chair. It felt like he had a heart attack. Grabbing the fabric by his chest with a tearful expression on his face, he dashed with unheard footsteps...
He stopped at the doorway and turned around, America hadn't stopped yet.
"America, stop, you're going to kill me," he muttered to himself.
But America didn't.
"One step closer…
One step closer…!"
It suddenly got quiet.
" I have died everyday
Waiting for you…
Darling, don't be afraid,
I have loved you…
For a thousand years;
I'll love you for a thousand more!
And all along, I believed I would find you~
Time has brought your heart to me…
I loved you for a thousand years—
I'll love you
For a
Thousand
More…"
The older nation couldn't hold himself back any longer. As soon as the last note was hit, he was out of there. He had a horrible headache and had broken out into a cold sweat. The breath wasn't going into his lungs.
Back at the stage, America was adding his last few words.
"Ahh, well I kinda didn't sing that for myself. I sang this for…" America nervously pulled the tie on his tuxedo as he blushed bright red and looked around the room for his one and only. When he couldn't he find him, there was a whole new wave of nervousness that washed over him and he whispered into the microphone in a barely audible voice, "England…"
The entire room erupted into a wild cheer along with multiple yells and yelling from every corner.
"OH MY GOD! WAS THAT A CONFESSION?!" France couldn't have been more excited as he 'eeped' and 'eeked' like some USUk fangirl, psh, who would do that?
At that moment, America dropped the mike (no pun intended) and swooped up the present that England had given to him that he hadn't opened yet and ran out the door. Screeching his dress shoes to stop, he violently looked around to see where England had gone.
"England?!" America called before he started sprinting again. "Goddammit, I haven't run like this since my industrial revolution!"
You know what, fuck the party. America could see the other blonde getting into the car to drive away. Apparently, Japan had been running after him, concerned.
"America-san…America-san… Wait a moment!" Japan held up his hand as he halted right behind America and panted, "What's wrlong?"
"Shit… No time to explain, watch the party for me, okay dude? I'll pick up everything tomorrow," the birthday boy rushed to his own car and quickly backed out.
Poor Japan, "Oh no, what do I do?! I'm not used to colorful big parties!"
The Asian went back inside and picked up the mike, "So… ah… America-san…"
He couldn't say where he actually went!
"Is… having really bad diarrhea!" Japan blurted out, "So, Ret's watch some anime… I have all the seasons of Naruto, some tentacle porn, and the Boku no Pico series."
France… just… "OH MY GOD WE HAVE TO WATCH BOKU NO PICO, OHOHOHOHO!" France can be quite the character sometimes. Canada didn't know what to anticipate and neither did many other nations. Red roses started blooming upon all of their cheeks. Wow, beautiful.
Meanwhile, America and England were on a mad car chase. Actually it was more like America had to stay a few streets down so that England wouldn't see him. After about two miles, England parked in the parking lot of the hotel that he was staying in.
The stalking continued. America had access to England's room because he rented out the entire hotel for his guests to stay at. Right as England closed his rooms door on the fourth floor, America ran up and caught it.
"A-America?!" England looked for an escape. Shit. Shit. Shit. He couldn't run forward because America was blocking him with his entire body so he ran back into the room.
"England why are you doing this?" America grabbed England's arm and held onto it with an iron grip. The younger nation wanted an answer to all of this strange behavior and England avoided him.
England always tried to get along with America and now he was running away. America was willing to do anything to keep the special relation with England that he had. Money, time, anything...!
"Huh… America?"
Tears began to fall from hazy blue eyes that stared down at the older nation's face—tears of frustration and anger at himself.
"Stop that America, don't cry."
Snapping into mother mode, he began to scold America for crying over something as petty as… himself. "There is no need to cry, America."
For a moment, England forgot everything except how to comfort America. His hand caressed America's light blond hair. His hair was so silky to his touch and had a strange resemblance to his own and at that moment, he realized that America will always be part of his heart: A part of his heart that would never heal if it was torn out.
Just because America's face flooded with the water of the Nile didn't make the grip on England's hand any lighter. If anything, it was harder. America wanted England to know that he couldn't just get rid of him. America was determined to leave an imprint.
America's face was in his sleeve as he messily wiped the mess off of his face. Unable to say anything else, England just pushed his other arm around America and pulled him closer. It was a doubtful embrace but the intentions of coaxing were clear.
On the brink of tears himself, England could feel the larger nation trembling and shaking in his arm that felt the same in his arms since he was just a little boy bound by his morals to mother England. It all felt the same. Nothing compared. No amount of memories or mistakes could compare to the bittersweet of the situation.
The cloth on his shoulder grew wetter and wetter until he could hear his name being muffled into his own tuxedo mixed with the misery and the pleading of America's tears. England's Adam apple bobbed as he tried to choke down his emotion. Both of his eyes turned red and a silent deafness waxed in his ears.
Suddenly, America's head lurched up and he looked down again with apologetic eyes. Lowering his face to meet eye level to England's gorgeous greens, he held those soft cheeks with his two thumbs and whispered, "It's alright England. You can cry England. Please."
There was a pregnant pause before he felt one of England's tears stroke across his knuckles. America smiled as if he was waiting for a newborn to take its first breath and cry. After a few tears fell, America pulled England into a heart-warming hug. He picked up England and fell with him onto the bed.
The soft, white fabric absorbed England's tears and America absorbed his pain. England was held close to his heart. There was no space between them. America promised no more doubt between them. He wanted to love England.
England had his back to America while they lay in bed. America's hand reached around and pressed itself spot on his heart and moved him so that they were touching each other. England was too embarrassed to let America look at his face but he could hear all of the muffled sobs along with the hiccups.
The lighter blond could feel America hard chest pressed up against him and it was strangely comforting as he rubbed his face with his sleeves.
"I'm always here England, I will always be here."
The stream only got stronger.
"Nothing will happen to you."
Heavy from crying, England's eyelid's drooped over. Although he didn't want to sleep, he succumbed to the overpowering sleep. As he slipped away into a deep sleep, he placed his own smaller hand in America's much bigger one and squeezed it to make it was there and fell asleep just like that.
When America felt a smaller hand on his, a small smile began to form on his face. He was so happy that he could finally love England the way that he wanted. Not completely. But next things could come later.
Next Morning:
~Xylophone Ringtone~
~Xylophones Keep playing~
"… Ah… America-san? The party—it was a big success! I convinced all of them that you had exprosive diarrhea!"
"—Huh..?" A tired America spoke with a voice that was clearly drunk on sleep. "Wait, what?"
Pulling the blanket off of himself, he rolled off to the side and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up.
"Werr, we washed Boku no Pico and then everyone went off to their own rooms," Japan admitted shyly. He was going to tell him all of the joys of getting a hotel room… alone… at night… after a porn film… with Greece but then he didn't because—well, ya know.
"There is so much wrong with that…" America responded, tired as fuck, "but at least it went well, right?"
"Yes sir! I have to go attend to something—," there was a voice of someone calling passive aggressively over on Japan's side, "Bye America-san!"
"Ahh…" America groaned wryly and rubbed his eyes that were crusty from crying. He let out a loud yawn and rolled over in his bed. When he rolled, England was right in front of him—sleeping like a baby. Their noses were barely two inches from each other.
Blood started to rush up to America's face. God, he looked adorable. America made a somewhat twisted face as he felt himself begin to heat up. Let's analyze the situation. America is in bed with England. They're wearing minimal clothing. America had pulled his shirt off and England's shirt too—it wasn't meant to be perverted! They were just getting super hot and sweating under all of the layers.
The younger blond leaned forward and kissed England on the nose. England didn't wake him up. America is just so smooth.
"…! Did you just… kiss me?!"
"WHAT?! You're awake!" America exclaimed in surprise when green eyes snapped open with a delayed reaction.
"Damn right I am…" England whispered. A little bit embarrassed and just wholly happy that he got some sort of affection from America. He just closed his eyes again and turned so that he was facing the ceiling before he opened his eyes again.
America did the same; feeling super awkward. He didn't know if he didn't the right thing.
"It's really hot in here," America said in a soft voice, gazing up at the ceiling. If you can't tell, he was referring to the fact that he was in bed with England.
"Yeah, it is," England agreed. He also meant in the way that he was in bed with America. It was different than a little kid in his bed.
"I don't think it's hot outside."
"Me neither. They forecasted mild weather and rain today."
"Oh."
"Are you hungry?"
"No, not really."
"Well that's a first."
"Mhm."
"…"
The conversation was getting nowhere fast. England decided to say something a little bit odd.
"Once," he took a breath, "when you were little… you thought I was like a mother."
"And?"
"You started… sucking on my nipples even though nothing was coming out."
England held his breath.
"Can I do it again?"
Literal volcanoes exploded inside of England, his face was burning like lava with the color of deep red. He swore there were hot coals pressed up against his cheeks.
America on the other hand wasn't blushing at all. The exact opposite, actually, he was playing it cool and sexy. Lest, he did not know how much of a turn on that was to England. England covered his eyes and rolled onto the other side.
He could feel cool fingertips feeling up his side and around to the chest where America collapsed four of his fingers.
"So? Is that a yes?"
Goosebumps came up on England's arms as he trembled under America's touch. It wasn't really like America but it might've been something that he hadn't known about America and he couldn't say that he didn't like it.
"D-Do whatever you want…"
America pressed his palm on England's bare skin and pulled him over so that he was facing up. An amatory digit wandered onto England's pink nub. It grew erect under the sensual touching. America pressed his finger into his nipple and then gripped it between two fingers and began to pull and squeeze it.
"H-hah… mm…" England let out small erotic squeals from inside of his throat. America's neck craned over until his lips were right up against England's. He pressed them together. Playing along, England licked his lover's lower lips.
"Mghh…"
America raised his face from all of the heat and steam of the situation and looked down at England whose face was more lewd that anything he'd ever seen. Clearly England had been drawn into the sensual side; where no one could think anymore.
He was wrong.
"W-What are you staring at America?!" England's cheeks looked bruised with the brutal amounts of red on them. His feet shuffled and he was a little bit unnerved until America's stare.
America didn't know whether to pull it off cool or just look with complete awe. To be honest, he didn't know if he could pull it off cool. England looked absolutely irresistible. His voice only made it worse because of how attractive it was.
"You look…"
"…hm?"
"Really, really delicious. Like a double cheeseburger."
England just glared at him. America basically killed the scene for him.
"That sounds absolutely disgusting."
America smiled sheepishly.
"I'm just trying to say you look irresistibly delicious," America gulped before adding, "babe."
England burned hotter than the surface of the sun.
"You know, I think England should do fine."
America looked flustered and embarrassed, "I'm trying, okay!"
"I know," England smiled to himself and rose up to peck America and fell back down.
"That's not gonna do."
"Huh—Mmmphh!"
America pushed down both of England's shoulders with half of his force, which still so much fucking force, and firmly pushed both of their lips together allowing absolutely no air or leeway in their airtight kiss.
At first, England lungs were about to collapse from how tense he got but he soon relaxed and the kiss lasted for almost twenty seconds. Finally, America grabbed England's chin and pressed them together even harder creating a completely vacuum kiss.
When America let go, both of them started gasping for air. It took a moment before England could get the air flowing through his system again but in the meantime, America already latched onto England's little nipple.
"Amer—huh?!" England didn't try to shake him off because it felt good, "Hn…"
The blond tossed around the fruity little nub in the midst of his circling tongue and sharp teeth but he was careful not to bite it off.
"Mmm… Lit tasphes ghood," America said with the nipple still in his mouth.
"You idiot! Don't talk with your mo-Hah..!" America started to suck on it. He was sucking on it harder than he had been when he was a baby. Low vibrations were being sent through England's chest.
"Oh god," whispered England.
Lifting up his head, America noted an observation, "Your nipples are super sensitive."
"S-Shut up," England retorted.
Grinning, America's hand made its way around England's back and grabbed his tush and squeezed hard, sending sparks up England's spine.
"Your ass is so soft."
"Stop… saying such embarrassing things," England looked up with a wanton expression.
America responded with his own lax response, "It's just me, isn't it? No one else is going to hear this."
Hey, Captain America wasn't the only one with authority. England had some liberal moves of his own. The lighter blond pressed his palm against America's cheek, "You're hot."
"Let me melt the distance between us, okay?"
England's hand came down lower and pressed against America's crotch, "You're hard, love."
"I k-know! Just let me do it…"
"No."
England sat up, releasing him of the position. They were both kneeling in front of each other on the bed. Suddenly, England's head ended up right on America's groin. A tent had pitched itself inside of both of their boxers. Since neither of them changed or removed their pants, they both had dress pants on.
England pulled his off and threw them swiftly off of the bed, "America, do the same."
Removing America's pants, he didn't know what to anticipate next. All he knew that England was licking all of his errection without removing the cloth.
"Mm…" England pulled the cloth off, letting America's cock breathe, "Ahhmmm… mmgh…"
Pink lips encircled his throbbing member and licking the tip and getting into all of the crevices. Then, the lighter blond pulled off.
"You're huge," England said in a faint voice all while pumping him.
Going in with a different angle, England took close to the entire length into his mouth and moved his lips and vibrated them. Hands were both situated at the hilt, pressing firmly. England had taken in so much of it that it was being suctioned by his throat while slamming into the back of it.
"Ghh… Hahh… England…" America placed his hand in England's ruffled mess of beautiful blond hair. It didn't slow him down. He could feel himself on edge. Leaning over, America pulled off England's boxers down his rump with one hand and England pretended not to notice.
His hand traced around the supple skin on his cheeks and slapped it. This caused a chain reaction that may or may not have been a good thing. England moaned with America's dick in his mouth causing a weird feeling that made America cum instantaneously.
"M—ghhh….. Ah, hah! England!" He exploded all of his seed inside of England's mouth and England pulled it out and then some more of it shot on England's eyes and nose.
"I'm a mess," England said quietly.
"Ghh.." America took a second to catch his breath.
"England, turn around."
England obedient did what America asked.
"How do you know what to do, America?" England asked, a little bit concerned that either America might mess up or he'd been sleeping around.
"How do you know how to give such a good blow job?" America counter questioned England.
England took a deep breath. Should he tell him? It's probably best saying it now.
"I've never really … done this kind of thing. It's just something instinctively that frog-face told me about.
America was bewildered, "You're a virgin?! You! England—the awfully sexy pirate-magician-pixie thing? A virgin?!"
"Shut up America, you make it sound bloody awful."
England's pride took a horrible blow.
"I bet you've slept around with looks like those," he responded quietly to America.
"I mean—I know what to do!"
Hearing that made England feel a whole lot better about everything. Except… wait, who did America even sleep with? Whatever, England, just let it go.
"Besides, for a first timer, that was a really awesome blow job."
Before England could properly respond, America had both of his hands firmly grasping both of England's ass cheeks.
"Lift your ass for me, England."
England did as he was told and he pulled his bottom off the sheets and pointed it into the air practically pushing it into America's face. For America, that was an open invitation. He couldn't lie, England's ass felt like a baby's bare bottom. It was soft, peachy cream, and supple—just oh so touchable. The darker blond buried his nose in between England's cheeks earning quite the reaction.
"M—huh?! America, what are you doing?! Get your damn face away from my arse!" England yelled making somewhat of a weak effort to get America off. America just buried his nose deeper into England's crevice and he smiled. To get England to stop rebelling, he squeezed one of England's ass cheeks in a harsh, reddening grip.
"Oh god…" England moaned into the sheet as America's wet tongue traced around his constricted hole. Then the younger nation proceeded to lick across the hole, letting it soak up. His strong fingers pulled apart England's cheeks and he pushed his pink tongue into England's pink sphincter; only getting a little bit in but he pressed forward.
"Th-thaz dirty," England whimpered, his hands pressing on the sheets. It was such a strange feeling. America's hot breath against his asshole just felt refreshing and suffocating at the same time. He was so sensitive back there.
"Heh…" Smirking, America stuck his pointer finger into England's tight passageway and pushed it through. There was no room anywhere. Right when he pushed it in, there was something that got caught in England's throat.
"Ghh! Ack!" The lighter blond grabbed the white sheets underneath him and clutched them.
America started to stroke England's front to try to calm him down, "You're doin' good, Iggy."
"Mm… Hahh…"
America pushed another finger into England's asshole and twisted them inside of the passage that could barely fit one finger.
"Gghh…! Ah, hahh!" The room filled with the silent sloshing of America's fingers in England's wet entrance and England erotic moans.
"A-America… it's hurts," England whined from the other side.
"I'll make you feel good, okay, you're doing fine."
For about a few minutes, America kept fingering and scissoring England to stretch him apart. Slowly, England's voice went from one of pain to pleasure.
"Ahh… America…"
Even though America was keeping his cool, he couldn't hold himself off anymore. His strong hands forcefully took a hold of England's hips. Even England knew what was about to come and he didn't know how to feel about it.
When America pulled down his boxers, even England could see how painfully hard he was through the erotic haze. His large shaft rubbed up against England's palpitating hole as America pressed forward and came back. He then positioned his tip against England's entrance and began to prod it with the head of his cock. Even the tiny little slicks felt good, they were orgiastic.
Placing his hands confidently on England's upper thighs, he pushed up England's creamy, skinny legs.
"You ready, Iggy?" America asked teasingly with a whole lot of anxiety mixed in.
"Mmm…" England only hummed a light note and nodded his head, not knowing what to anticipate. His thighs trembled in America's strong hands.
It was almost as if England's rose-colored hole pursed itself, waiting for America's peninsula to enter. Nervously pushing forward, America's hardened cock pressed its tip in, prodding itself in the wetness. America was literally drooling over the excitement. Already in seventh heaven, he pressed himself all the way inside, feeling all of England's insides grasp his cock in a tight hug.
"H-Hahh! AH!" England screamed as the dick took its rightful spot. He clenched up immediately upon entrance, choking America's junk inside of him.
"Oh god, England, you're squeezing so h-hard, I think I'm gonna cum!" America cried in a half joking way but he was seriously suctioning him hard. It was like a vacuum in there.
"I-Idiot…" England bit his pink lips, "Hnn… It hurts, America!"
"Ha.. Ah.., poor baby, I'll help you," America cooed and pulled the paler blond up so that England was sitting on his lap. Gravity forced England to take in America dick to the base. He clenched it even tighter in his ass making both of them shudder.
"I thought I was gonna cum!" America laughed a little bit. But seriously. That was tight.
The smaller man threw his head of the other's shoulder and hugged him in an attempt to get over the initial shock and pain of it. His face was flushed and the room seemed to be kept at a nice toasty 120 degrees.
America began to thrust his hips up, unable to keep himself back. He started to bounce England on his dick, grunting and panting. The Englishman shivered and released some quite erotic sounds. England's ass would hit the base of America's dick and swing back up for another round.
"GH…! America! America! Ha-ahh!" England kept moaning making a minimal effort to keep his voice down.
"Oh yeah… England, just. Keep. Bouncing. Just keep. Saying. My. Name," America spoke between thrusts, "Just like that... Ha…Ah…"
America fixed one of his hands on England's dick providing maximum pleasure while bouncing him. England started to ooze precum that got between America's fingers. He prodded a finger in England's slit. His hand started to pump England's member, slick with pre-cum.
"Hah-Ah! America, I-I'm gonna … cum!" England spurted all of his cum onto his chest and America's. England's mind sunk into a post-orgasmic state where he felt completely pressured. The darker blond pushed him back into the bed and sunk England into the bed as he lay there helplessly.
America raised England's hips into the air and started to thrust himself into England's tight passage. Suddenly, when America felt on edge, he started going super fast.
"En-England… England… En—Gland!" America moaned as he felt his liquids all poured out into England. He kept thrusting and rode out the orgasm.
After a few minutes, both fell back into the bed and let the soft cloth bound them.
"That was the best thing to do in the morning!" America exclaimed and stretched his arms into the air.
"…" England gulped in some air and asked, "What do you mean?"
"You're super… uh… attractive when you're asleep; I was already really turned on."
England just started blushing a deep red again and buried himself underneath the covers. America popped under the covers.
"Hey England," America whispered, "Kiss me…"
England dove in for a kiss as their naked bodies intertwined and love was-
There was the sound of an opening door until suddenly:
"What a killer party, America really knows how to part-ay, doesn't he England!"
"FRANCE?!" both of them screamed together.
"Oh… you were…"
"LEAVE, YOU FUCKING FROG-FACE! OUT, OUT, OUT!"
Did you guys like it? Yeah... it was a little bit scatterbrained== if you didn't catch the end: england gets drunk when america starts singing and england runs away because of feels. America chases after him and leaves Japan in charge and Japan makes the party guests watch Boku no Pico just because. America and England clear up feelings for each other and they have somewhat funny, somewhat hot sex. Review~Favorite~Follow :D it'll make me heppeh.