Original request:
"Part 16 - America/Canada or England/Canada - Silky French (pubic) hair
America or England nuzzling and petting Canada's pubes after a blowjob because they feel silky and soft."
In the back of his mind, Canada felt a little bit guilty for taking advantage of the situation. He really shouldn't have been though, since England was the one to offer. Besides, England wasn't all that drunk, just buzzed enough to lose the stiff, conservative exterior he had on at all other times.
And, really, how could Canada have resisted, what with the lovely pink flush on England's cheeks and the way his deep green eyes were glowing with warmth and arousal. On top of all that, he had called Canada iby his name,/i not "Alfred" or "lad" or "err… you with the beavers."
He had said, clear as day, in the middle of the bar, "Let me blow you, Matthew."
And now here they were, back in Canada's hotel room, the younger nation laying sideways across the bed where England had pushed him down, fingers tangled in the bed sheets and mouth open wide in a silent scream while the elder, kneeling beside the bed between his legs, licked a long stripe from the base of his cock to the head before wrapping his lips around the tip and just isucking/i for a good long minute. At this point, Canada didn't even care that, aside from his unzipped fly, they were both still fully dressed in suits and ties. If he was going to be honest, it really just made the whole ordeal sexier.
Canada whined, thrusting his hips up, trying to push himself in deeper. To his surprise, England relented, opening his mouth wider and swallowing the cock almost greedily, humming in the back of his throat.
"Aa-! God, Arthur!" Canada moaned, writhing on the sheets. Fuck, his throat was so wet, so hot…
England groaned in response and lifted his head to only the tip remained in his mouth, then lowered his mouth back down, down, until his lips were wrapped round the base. He repeated the motion, rolling his tongue against the hot organ in his mouth.
The younger nation almost lost it right then and there. He managed to untangle one hand from the sheets, only to fist in the elder's hair, watching as if hypnotized as again and again England fucked his mouth onto Canada's cock, the flush on his cheeks darker now, his eyes half-lidded, eyebrows furrowed in apparent concentration as his head bobbed up and down.
Canada's other hand was soon tangled in that thatch of straw-blond hair as well, and he was sitting upright, curled over the form of his former guardian, panting "Arthur, Arthur," desperately, over and over again.
He came hard, spilling his seed on England's tongue as he cried out in primal pleasure and white light exploded behind his eyes. He slumped over the side of the bed, practically falling on the body kneeled before him, and could only breathe heavily as England wrapped an arm around his waist and maneuvered him so that he was lying back on the bed.
For now, Canada was content to stay there, catch his breath, and let his brain float back into his skull, but England's fidgeting at the edge of the bed caught his attention. His glasses were fogged up pretty badly so he couldn't quite see, but he was pretty sure the older nation mouthing at his limp cock.
"Again?" he asked breathlessly. "Arthur, I'm exhausted."
"What?" The Englishman glanced up, looking puzzled, then he seemed to realize something. "Oh, no, not that again so soon."
And he went right back to nuzzling the little spot not covered by Canada's slacks without another word.
"Then… What are you doing?" the younger nation asked, a little apprehensive.
England gave a short, small laugh and started rubbing his cheek against the light golden curls nestled around Canada's cock. "I'm sorry, lad, but… it's just so soft…"
...
Okay, so maybe England was a little more drunk that Canada had first anticipated…