Notes: This is a lemon, so consider this your warning for strong sexual content. Seriously. The whole second half of this is pretty much pure sex.
This is for my friend who wanted to see some CanadaXAmericaXEngland. OT3, am I right? Enjoy~
X
"Hey, bartender?"
It was supposed to be a shout, but coming from Canada's mouth, it was quieter than a normal speaking tone.
"Hey … uh … bartender?"
A little louder, but still a far cry (literally) from reaching the other side of the bar.
"Darn it," Canada mumbled, this time so softly no one heard.
"You're going to have to speak up, mon petit," said France. The Frenchman sat beside him at the bar, sipping a glass of wine that was not nearly as good as his homeland, as he annoyingly kept pointing out.
"Why do you do that?" asked England, who was sitting on the other side of Canada. "You're always throwing in random French words just to show off your ability to speak your own damn language."
"Oh, merci, for not speaking your precious English every moment I grace your presence!" replied France, leaning backward and around Canada to meet England's scowl. "Irregardless, I wasn't speaking to you, I was speaking to Canada, who speaks both English and French. So it was actually quite appropriate."
"'Irregardless' isn't a word, you fucking idiot."
"My! So touchy zis evening! A little early to be drunk already, isn't it, England?"
England quickly set down his ale. "I'm not!"
Canada had shrunk in his seat between the two of them as they argued. "I … I'll be right back." He hopped off the barstool, empty glass in hand, to get a refill. Then there was nothing but an unused seat in between England and France.
"Hoho," chuckled France with a twisted grin as he watched Canada walk away. "What do you think sex with Canada would be like?"
"What," said England. Not asked. Said.
"I was just thinking, he's rather cute. It'd be nice to …"
"Goddamn, do you ever not think about sex?" England picked up the ale again. He felt like he needed it. "I really mean that. It seems to be on your mind every - single - fucking - moment. Get a hobby for Christ's sake!"
France wasn't listening to England. "Hmmm …" He was watching Canada, down at the other side of the bar, still struggling to get the bartender's attention. "I wonder how many drinks it'd take before he'd let me."
"Let you what? Fuck him? Let's see … how many does it take to reach alcohol poisoning? Because the only way you're getting your disgusting French cock in that is if he's unconscious on the floor."
"Heh," said France, smirking. "Don't give me any ideas."
"You are one sick bastard."
"Oh, what is zat?" France pointed in the other direction.
England looked away. "What? I don't see anything - HEY! What are you doing to my drink? !"
France pulled his hand away from England's glass. "Oh, nothing …"
"Wa … was that a roofie? !" he stammered in shock. "Are you trying to fucking drug me? !"
"Oh, drug is such a strong word, England!"
BAAAMMMM!
The entire bar simultaneously flinched as the door slammed open.
"HEY YOU GUYS!" announced America, making his grand entrance, a can in each hand. "The heroine has arrived! With BOOZE!"
America stumbled his way over and flopped in the seat next to England. "Ha ha … I meant hero … not heroine …"
"Oi, America," started England with a sigh. "You're not supposed to bring your own beers to a bar."
America snickered. "Pffft! Beers? Dude, please. These are Four Lokos, duh!"
"Are you drunk already too, America?" asked France.
"GOD! How come I only have one mouth? !"
France gave America a queer look.
"I mean, I have two drinks! DUH! It doesn't add up!"
England side-eyed France. "I think your answer is yes."
"Hey, Canada. 'Sup, bro?" America said to the empty seat between England and France. "Sorry I was late. I couldn't find the place. This is a Canadian bar, so I kept looking for an igloo!"
"You know Canada hates that you assume he lives in an igloo, right?" said England.
"You know Canada's not there, right?" said France.
"Oh, really?" America took a swig of one of his Four Lokos. "Haha! Whoops, my bad. Sorry, dude. Buy you a beer to say sorry?"
"Yeeeah …" started England. "… he's still not there, America."
"Yeah, or maybe he's just being rude and ignoring me! Psssh, whatever! Your loss, Canada. Now I'm not buying you that beer." America started to take a sip of one of his drinks, but then stopped himself. "Ooh, hey, I have an idea! I'm gonna chug both of these at the same time as fast as I can at the same time as fast as I can! Time me, England."
"I don't have a watch -"
"HERE I GO!" America tried to down both drinks at the same time, but choked and sputtered most of it back out. "Wait - crap - this doesn't - count," he said in between coughs. "Let me start over!"
"Psst," whispered France. He leaned over to shorten the gap in between himself and England. "You never did answer my question."
England returned him a look of disgust for leaning closer. "What question?"
"About Canada … what do you think it'd be like?"
England's eyes widened, then quickly glanced over to America, still gagging on two drinks at once. He pretended to be paying attention to that instead. "Um … I don't know! I never thought about it!"
"Mmm, I have," said France. He let his gaze wander to Canada at the other end of the bar, finally having caught the bartender's attention. "He's so quiet. I wonder if zat'd transfer over to ze bedroom."
"St-start the time over!" coughed America, though no one was listening.
"Quiet, shy …" continued France. "… submissive. I bet he'd roll right over for me and let me do whatever I wanted to him."
"Bloody pervert!" was all England could get out. France kept talking.
"You know what zey say about ze quiet ones, hmm? Zey are ze most kinky."
England nervously took another sip of ale. "I doubt that."
"People are different behind closed doors. Some of zem completely change," continued France. "Zey are reserved in normal company, but in private zat barrier comes down, and zey finally allow themselves to take control."
"Or you're just talking out of your arse because you're a sick bastard and feel the need to tell me about your depraved sexual fantasies, even though I'm just trying to enjoy my bloody drink!"
"Raaarrr," France feigned a cat's snarl. "Zis kitten has claws! You're so sassy tonight."
England tensed, clenching all his muscles tight as he felt France's hand slide up his thigh.
"I don't really know how you'd be during sex either," whispered France. "But I'm very open to finding out."
England was about to bash France's head in with his bottom of his glass. He truly was. It would have been a bloody mess, but America suddenly fell off the barstool and onto the floor behind him.
They both turned to see him sprawled out on the bar floor, his nose red and dripping blood from the fall. "WHOOO!" he exclaimed. "How'd I do, England?"
England suddenly remembered he was supposed to be timing America. "Err - 20 seconds?" he guessed.
America threw his arms up, though the rest of him remained on the floor. "COOL BEANS! New record!"
England tentatively held out his hand to America to help him up. But not without giving him a scolding eye roll in the process. "They're going to kick you out of the bar if you don't quit yelling and falling off the barstool. Not to mention that you brought your own drinks."
"Fine, WHATEVA!" America hopped up without England's help, though he swayed after standing back up. "I'll order something!" he screeched.
"Dear Lord, I am deaf," said France.
"God, America! I said to be quieter!" said England.
"What? !" snapped the bartender on the other side of the room. He was mid-pass finally handing Canada his drink.
"LONG ISLAND ICED TEA PLEASE!" Then he spied Canada and grinned. "Oh, hey! CANADAAAAAAA!"
Canada winced. He wasn't used to hearing his name so loud. "Oh, yeah, hey …"
"WHAT? ! Dude, I can't hear you! Speak up!"
England was covering his ears. "America! Please! Lower your voice before they kick you out!"
The bartender gave Canada America's drink. "Tell your friend I opened him a tab and to shut the hell up."
"Eh? Oh! Yes! Sorry," said Canada nervously, taking the second drink.
Canada returned to his seat between England and France, a lager in one hand and a Long Island Iced Tea in the other. "After all that, we ended up getting our drinks at the same time … and I've been trying for several minutes …" he mumbled.
"Huh? What'd you say?" asked America as he took his drink from Canada.
"Nothing."
"Watch your drinks," England said to America and Canada. "This perverted frog here tried to slip me a roofie!"
Canada looked shocked and started to say something, "Oh, my G-"
- but America interrupted. "HOLY CRAP! That's totally wack, France."
"My, my!" France put up his arms defensively. "So much accusation toward Big Brother tonight! Oui, zere is nothing wrong with loving someone, including someone's body. It is a beautiful thing, no? And if that someone happens to be in a drug-induced unconscious state, is it not still beautiful?"
"No," said England sharply. "It is rape."
"It's not rape if zey can't say no, honhonhon," he cackled.
"Ummm …" Canada scooted awkwardly down in his chair. He wondered why the hell he chose to sit between the two of them.
As the two continued to argue, he heard America whisper to him. "Psst, Canada," he said, leaning backwards to see him. "You wanna play a game with me?"
Thankful to be distracted from England and France, he happily agreed. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"
"Hehehe," he snickered. "Let's play the Penis Game."
Canada nearly choked on his drink. "Eh? !"
"What, you never played before? GOSH! Okay, I'll explain it to you."
"No … no, that's all r-"
America talked over him. "First, someone says the word 'penis.' Then the other person has to say it louder than the first. Then the first person has to say it even louder and so on and so on … the person to say it the loudest wins!"
"I am not playing that!"
America took a sip of his drink before giggling loudly, "HEHHEHEHE," then whispering very quietly, " … penis."
"Look, America … I really don't want to say 'penis' in front of - oops-"
"HAHAHAHA!" America laughed. "You totally said it! You said penis! Okay my turn. And that didn't count. Because now I'm gonna say it like PEEEENNNISSSSSS!"
Canada's face flushed red with embarrassment. He ducked back, pretending not to have been talking to America.
"Hehehe," America giggled, swaying and almost falling off his barstool.
France leaned over to catch America's eye. "Might I offer, America?"
"Hehehe … heh …" America's laughter slowed. "Offer what?"
"You were crying out a desperate need for a certain love muscle, no?"
"Uh … NO?"
"Keep it in your pants," said England. "I think he was just being a fucking idiot."
"Don't get my hopes up like that."
They looked back for America's response, but he was busy chugging his Long Island Iced Tea. Without pausing for a breath, America sucked down the liquid, the glass emptying by the second. Soon he finished polishing it off, slammed the empty glass on the counter, and said, "Ahh!"
"You're really pounding them back tonight," said England. "And you were already sloshed before you even arrived."
"Yeah," agreed Canada. "How many did you have before you got here?"
"OOH OOH," said America excitedly. "Is that a jukebox? ! Oh man, those things are awesome!"
"Hey, did you hear m-"
America cut Canada off. "Imma go kick it, stick my thumbs out, and go 'eeeeeeyyyyy'!"
The other three quietly sipped their drinks, giving him nothing but puzzled looks in response.
"You know! Like Fonzi!" said America as if it was obvious. "What, y'all never watched Happy Days? Fonzi always did that."
Still no response.
"Screw you guys. The Fonz is the coolest."
"America, that is not a jukebox," England finally said as he shook his head.
"For reals?" America glanced back over to it, across the room. "Oh shiznit, you're right! It's a karaoke machine! SWEET!" America was already off his seat. "Dude! Someone's gotta come up and sing with me!"
England felt like America was looking at him slightly more than the other two. "No," he said dryly.
"Hmm?" said France, gracefully licking the wine from his lips. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to you, America. But Big Brother does not yet have enough wine in him to do something like that."
"Dude, why do you always talk in third person like that?" asked America. "I mean, I could do it, too! I will, watch. Super Cool Awesome Dude wants Canada to sing with him!"
"Eh?" Canada shrank more in his seat. "No, not me!"
"C'mon, bro! It'll be fun!"
"I don't even see a karaoke machine! No … please … pick someone else."
"It's right over there! I'll show you!"
"Wait -" Canada couldn't protest more, because America's hand had grabbed him by the wrist and wrenched him up from the seat. There was no fighting America's idiot strength, so all he could do was look back at England and France weakly calling "help me …" as he was dragged off, spilling his drink along the way.
"Oi," started England. "What'd he say?"
"It wasn't a plea for l'amour, so I don't have much concern."
"Just say 'love' in English. Jesus fucking Christ …"
Across the room, America finally released his grip on Canada. "Soooo … whaddaya wanna sing? I wanna sing something cool like Lady Gaga. Or … Hansen."
Canada shook his arm out, trying to get the sensation back from having his circulation nearly cut off. "Darn it! You made me spill my drink!"
"Fine, fine. I know you got Bieber Fever."
"Are you listening to me at all? !"
"No."
"You're drunk, okay? Like … really drunk. Just go back to your seat and order a water."
"Pfffft! Oh, Canada, you're such a silly goose." America swayed where he stood, nearly falling over, but then caught himself. "I … am not drunk. That. Uh … drunk. That is."
"Eh?"
"I said I'm not that drunk! DUH! Listen when someone speaks to you."
"You can barely stand up!"
"OH FUDGE!" America suddenly exclaimed. "Imma sing me some Katy Perry! Hells yeah. Gimme that mic."
"What m-"
"Never mind, you are way too slow, bro. Slowbro. Hahaha … that is a Pokemon." America hiccupped loudly, HIC. "Oh crap. I tasted some of that Hot Pocket I had earlier with that one!"
Canada sighed and shook his head. "Oh boy … what am I ever gonna do aboot you, Amer …" He couldn't finish his internal despair. Because America had once again interrupted, this time by jumping up on one of the tables.
"HOW Y'ALL FEELIN' TONIGHT? !" he screamed to the entire bar. "Testing, one, two, three. This thing on?" He tapped it.
"Get down from there!" called England. "You look like a bloody fool!"
"Haha, give it up for my friend England, you guys," America said to the bar as if they were his audience. They just gave him odd and irritated glances. "Such a buzz kill, am I right, y'all?"
Canada approached from below. He stood at the edge of the table and looked up. "He's right, America," he whispered. "You really should come down from there! They're probably gonna kick you out if you don't!"
"Crank that music, Canadia. Imma blow this bar away with my mad singin' skills."
Canada curled his lip in disgust. "Canadia?"
"Here, hold this for me." America tossed his jacket to Canada, hitting him right in the gut. "It's so hot in here I can feel my balls sweating … crap, I hope I didn't say that into the mic."
"Umm ... it's not hot in here …"
"HELLO CLEVELAND!" America bellowed, doing his best rock and roll star impression. "Crap, I mean, HELLO TORONTO! Y'all is my favorite providence … province … heh, yeah, whateva."
"Oh my," said France. "It appears we are going to get a show tonight, Angleterre."
England shot him a glare. "You're doing that just to fuck with me now, aren't you?"
"But of course."
"… fucking wanker."
"Honhonhonhon …"
There was no music, but that didn't stop America from singing. He belted out the off-key notes, making everyone in the bar flinch in pain.
"I KISSED A GIRL AND I LIIIIKED IT!" he sung, screeching the lyrics. "I HOPE MAH BOYFRIEND DON' MIND IT!"
"America!" Canada tried to get America's attention. It didn't work.
"IT FELT SO WRONG IT FELT SO RIGHT!" continued America in his drunken stupor. "DON' MEAN I'M IN LOVE TOOOONIGHT!"
"America!" said Canada, this time a little louder.
But not loud enough. "IT'S NOT WHAT GOOD GIRLS DOOO!"
"AMERICA!"
"FFffff …" America stopped. "Shhh, Canada. I'm singin'. Now back to what I was sayin' … US GIRLS WE ARE SO MAGICAL~! SOFT SKIN, RED LIPS ... something-something ... shit, I forget the rest … hahaha … ha … "
The two on the other side of the bar continued to watch on. "You certainly are watching rather intently." France flashed England a devious smirk. "My goodness. Did I say watching? I surely meant ogling."
"Ogling?" England snorted. "That? He's smashed, singing way off pitch, butchering what are already shite lyrics … what the hell am I supposed to be ogling?"
"Not ze performance. I mean America … and his increasingly vulnerable state."
England quickly took a swig of ale. "Oh, please."
"Come now. You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."
"You're the one whose thoughts never stray from lechery, not me. Leave me out of it."
"I wonder what he'd be like …" France mused. "Would he be as loud and obnoxious during? Or would he be the opposite, and be surprising reserved? He was a Puritan for quite some time, after all."
England kept his gaze dead ahead. It was fixated on America's swaying, swaggering figure atop the bar table. There was a silence between the two of them, then England realized France had stopped talking. "… huh? Oh - uh - h-howshouldIknow!"
"Quite a defensive answer!"
"Shut up."
"Next time, don't stare so long."
Back across the bar, Canada had finally succeeded in getting America's attention. It only happened when Canada offered him food.
"Yeah, I'll buy you a Big Mac if you get down from there!"
"For reals?" asked America. "Can I Supersize it?"
"Yeah, whatever you want! Anything! You want some poutine too?"
"HELLS YEAH I want some poon tang."
"Err … I said poutine."
At the bar, England and France could hear America's half of the conversation but not Canada's. The second voice just wasn't loud enough.
England momentarily sputtered his drink. "Dear Lord, did America just say what I think he said?"
"Oui, it appears so."
England didn't reply.
"What's wrong?" France asked him. "Are you pondering whether zis hurts or helps your chances with him tonight?"
"Shut it, frog!"
"Honhonhonhon," he cackled again.
"THIS NEXT SONG GOES OUT TO MY BRO, CANANANA … DA," announced America, too drunk to know when to stop with his A's and N's.
"I said don't, America! Why won't you listen to me?"
"WE'RE NO STRANGERS TO LOOOOOVE~," sang America.
"Oh, God …" muttered Canada, facepalming.
"YOU KNOW THE RULES AND SO DO IIIIII …"
"Just listen already! There's no karaoke machine!"
"A FULL COMMITMENT'S WHAT I'M THINKING OF …"
"That machine you pointed to was just the bartender's register!"
"YOU WOULDN'T GET THIS FROM ANY OTHER GUY …"
"And that's not a microphone, it's an empty beer bottle!"
None of this deterred America. "IIIIII JUS' WANNA TELL YOU HOW I'M FEELIN' … GOTTA MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND~ …"
"You are too drunk!"
"NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN!"
"Fuck," swore England back at the bar. "Is … is America Rickrolling this entire bar?"
"NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOUUUUU!" continued America.
"It seems someone has been spending too much time on ze Internet," answered France. "Amazing how well he remembers ze lyrics despite his obvious intoxication, no?"
America swayed on the table again, but this time, he didn't manage to stop himself. He stumbled and fell off the table. He landed harshly on the floor below, making both a loud thud noise from his body and a smash from his empty beer bottle shattering on the floor.
"My mic!" he cried out desperately. "God, WHYYYY?"
Canada hurried over. "Whoa, are you okay?" He bent over to help America up. "This is why I told you to get down in the first place!"
"Ohhh … Canadaaaa …" moaned America. "… my mic is DEAD!"
Canada struggled to pull America to his feet. America didn't help much, letting himself slack like dead weight. As soon as America was up, he stumbled again, falling against Canada's chest. Canada was once again straining to hold him.
"Come on … let's get back to our seats …"
"Nooooo," whined America, sliding down Canada's body.
Canada jolted at the sensation. "Whoa … I-I gotta go to the bathroom. You just pushed against my bladder."
Canada pushed America off him, then raced for the men's room.
America had to crawl back to his seat on all fours. He didn't have the coordination to walk. "Was that awesome or what?" he asked as he tried to climb up his barstool.
"You made a damn fool of yourself," said England. He didn't bother to lend a helping hand that time.
After a drunken struggle, America finally flopped himself on the seat. "BARTENDERRRRRRR!" he screeched. "'nother drink, dude!"
"One more incident like that and your ass is out of here!" called back the bartender.
"Wow, what a douche."
France leaned over to whisper in England's ear. "I noticed you're not cutting him off even though he's clearly had too much to drink. Ze more inebriated, ze better you figure your chances, right?"
"Shhh, he'll hear you," snapped England.
"Zat wasn't a no, hohoho …"
America's drink was delivered (albeit with a scowl and another warning from the bartender) and he giddily chugged it again. When it was gone, he set it down and gripped the sides of his barstool. "Haha, watch this, guys! I'm gonna spin and go, 'WHOOOOOOO!'"
"Hey, let's make a deal," whispered France to England. "What do you say we wingman for each other? I'll help you take home America, and you help me do ze same for Canada."
England was watching America. "Wha …?" gasped the American in shock. "This seat doesn't spin? ! What is this fuckery …?"
"Leave me out of your perverted schemes," England whispered back, still watching America fumbling in his seat.
"Oh, so I can have both of them?" France's face lit up with a mischievous smirk. "Two drunk, cute twins … simultaneously pleasing me … how delicious …"
"I jus' wanted to sit 'n' spin!" cried America. "Is that so wroooong? !"
England growled under his breath. "Don't you dare touch either one of them."
"Hey, I'm offering to share one and you're not taking me up on it. Zat means zey're both up for grabs, does it not?"
England gave him a modest reply. "Go fuck yourself."
"Ah, but zat isn't nearly as fun as someone else. Besides …" France's devious grin was back. "I've always wanted to see if ze two of zem look the same without zeir clothes too."
"Bloody pervert!"
"Ah … you call me zat, but you're ze one staring too intently at how he unbuttons his shirt."
"Huh?"
Indeed, America had stopped trying to spin and had unbuttoned the top button on shirt. He was working on the second one, not noticing England's eyes transfixed on him, nor France's eyes transfixed on England's.
"Holy jeez," America whined, still fiddling with the second button. "It's sooooo hot in here!"
"I don't think it's zat hot," said France, raising his wine glass for another sip, smirking. "You sure it's not just because you're so intoxicated?"
America finally freed his second shirt button. "I dunno … my head feels like … it's all warm 'n' spinnin' … and stuff …." He flopped his head on the counter, sighing. "Ohhhh … I feel awful."
"Easy prey," whispered France to England.
"Wha's takin' Canada so looooong?" America whined. He let his eyes flutter shut, not bothering to open them anymore. "He's been in the bathroom for like … eva."
"He couldn't be getting sick, could he?" wondered England. "I mean, he didn't have that much to drink, I don't think."
"No, he may," said France. "He had four drinks. No, my mistake - three and a half. Zat last one was spilled.
England huffed. "You sure knew that pretty fast. You really spent that much effort to pay attention and count?"
"I already told you my intentions. No use trying to hide it, hmm?"
"I miss Canadaaaaa …" groaned America. "Tell'im … tell'im to hurry 'n' get back here. I wanna -" America paused to hiccup, or perhaps belch, it was hard to tell. "- wanna play more of that Penis Game. Imma so win again, 'cuz Canada tol'ly sucks at it."
England hadn't stopped staring. It was finally sinking in just how drunk America really was. "What the bloody hell is the Penis Game?"
"NO." America suddenly sat up. "I'll go tell'im m'self! HA! Gotta take a piss anyway." But when he stood up, he immediately swayed, nearly toppling over.
"Whoa, sit back down! You can't even walk!" said England.
"I can soooo walk, Englan' … jus' you watch."
It wasn't quite 'walking.' It was stumbling. He barely made it across the room, swaggering and occasionally falling onto a table or person in his way.
"Oops, sorry, ma'am," he drawled to one, even though it was a man.
When he finally made it to the bathroom door, he fell into it, and disappeared onto the other side.
England never looked away from the embarrassing sight. "I should probably go check on him, huh?"
"Hmm, you should listen to me. And my magnifique plan."
"Huh?" England's grimace turned back into a scowl. "What's your magnificent plan?"
"I can see it in your eyes. You want to take America home tonight, no?"
"Wha …!" England sputtered. "Will you drop that already? !"
"Please, England. Don't deny it. Big Brother recognizes ze look of lust." France scooted closer, once again taking advantage of the empty seat between them. "But don't despair. Listen to me and we can plan our evenings to indulge both our fantasies."
"Like I'm going to take advice from a pervert like you!"
"He's drunk," France continued. He gave no regard to England's protest. "Profoundly drunk. He can't even walk, for God's sake. So offer him a ride home. It'll seem almost noble, like you're watching out for his safety, which makes for a perfect opening …"
"I-I am not listening …!" England quickly took another swig of ale.
"When you get him home, lead him to his bedroom. He'll need you to support him to walk, so you can decide where to go. Just take ze lead, walk him there, and flop him on ze bed."
England gulped his drink nervously.
"Start undressing him," continued France. "It won't even seem sexual at first. You can chalk it up to not wanting him to have to sleep in his clothes like zat. Zen when he's naked, you can touch all you want. Because let's be honest here - he's not going to realize what you're doing. He's far too drunk."
"Dear Lord -"
"Zen … hohoho … and zen … you can fuck him. Thrust away to your heart's desire. He's not going to remember anything anyway!"
England slammed down his glass. "Shut the hell up!"
"Though he may pass out," mused France. "In zat case … things get even more kinkier. You can be as hard and rough as you want - he can't protest!"
"Like I'd ever do that! I am not a damn rapist like you, sodding wanker!"
"Oh? Is zat not how you like it, England?" The wandering hand was back. It slid slowly down England's inner thigh. "I had a feeling you liked to bottom. Hoho, in zat case, ride zat cowboy all night long."
England suddenly hopped off the barstool. "Fuck off," he snapped.
"Where are you going?"
"The loo," he called back as he made his way across the bar.
"Honhonhonhon," France cackled as he finished off his glass of wine.
England made it about halfway across the bar. Then he froze, and cast a glance back at France. He tried to do it casually as not to be seen, but France's gaze never left England. Or England's ass, as he could feel the Frenchman's eyes burning stare upon it.
England returned a glare, figuring it would spurn France away, but it only made France's devious smirk grow wider. With a huff, England turned and walked toward the end of the counter. France wondered what he was up to as he approached the bartender.
England got very close to the bartender, leaning his head over the counter so he didn't have to speak too loud. "Excuse me," he said quietly, "I'd like to go ahead and pay my tab."
"Leaving already, eh?" asked the bartender absentmindedly as he rang him up.
"Yeah …" England lowered his voice even more, to almost a whisper, and looked away. " … a-and I'll pay for those two Long Island Iced Teas too …"
"Eh?" The bartender looked up. "Whose? That idiot who got up on my table and sang into a beer bottle?"
England swallowed, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. "Yes. That idiot's."
"What about your other two friends? You paying for the wine and lagers?"
England almost corrected him - France is not my friend! - but he held it back. "No," was his blunt answer. "Just the Long Island Iced Teas."
The bartender gave him an incredulous look. It made England keep his own eyes on the floor. But the bartender obliged, England paid for both tabs, and England turned back around to head for the bathroom.
But as soon as he turned around again, he saw that France was still intently staring at him. England froze, widening his eyes momentarily, but then played it off and pretended to not notice.
As he made his way to the restroom, he frantically wondered what France thought. He wondered if he knew that England had paid America's tab. And if he had, he wondered just how that may have looked to someone who did look for an ulterior motive. France would never assume it was a simple altruistic gesture, England anxiously told himself. He would see it as darkly as possible: that England had practically just bought he and America a free ticket out. An easy exit to leave. To leave for -
England's mind returned to France's perverse plan. Images of the descriptions - flopping America's drunk, clumsy body on the bed, taking his clothes off, touching, mounting, penetrating - flashed in England's mind. He shook it almost as soon as they did, pushing them away, and trying to ignore the twitch of arousal he felt between his legs.
He blamed it on all the ale.
England pushed the bathroom door open, telling himself that when he got home he'd give himself a good wank. It'd help get rid of these thoughts, he reasoned.
But when he opened bathroom door, he got a sight even vulgar than his own imagination.
America had his pants down to his ankles, clumsily stroking a very hard erection. He was hunched slightly, awkwardly over the sink for leverage. One hand barely kept his drunken figure from stumbling over, the other was wrapped around his reddened cock, fumbling in a pumping motion.
America didn't notice England at first, but when he did, the reaction was not like England had expected. In that he didn't have much reaction at all. He just kept stroking himself, a wild, drunk look in his eyes, making a weak huffing "eeeehhh …" noise.
England swayed where he stood, unsure if it was due to the sight in front of him or one too many ales. That crazy look in America's eyes - half-lidded, pupils dilated, bloodshot, a pink tint on the cheeks below them - made England freeze up.
Well, it could have been that look. Or it also could have been the feeling of blood rushing to his dick.
England couldn't believe his body's response. He tried so hard to blame it on the ale, though with his high tolerance, it was getting more and more difficult. Heat pooled between his legs. He could feel a hardness twitch there, then the familiar press of tightened pants.
More curiously was how America ignored him. His hand continued stroking himself. But it was so sloppy. He'd give himself a couple lazy pumps, stop for a few moments, then start again. He looked as if he'd fall asleep any moment.
"Mmmm …" America groaned, letting his eyes fall shut.
England watched the bizarre way his body moved. It was shaking - no, spasming, England realized. But not from an orgasm. America didn't even look that close, as there was no visible precum. He just appeared to be moving himself in an odd rocking manner.
England cringed at what a poor job America was doing getting himself off. He looked so desperate, England thought to himself, barely coordinated enough to stroke himself and even less so to hump his hand or whatever he was trying to do to get relief.
"Mmmm!" America suddenly whined, slipping down and nearly falling over.
England started to help him, but realized America somehow caught himself. All without ever stopping his desperate movements.
America's face ended up smashing against the sink. But he didn't look unhappy. A twisted smile of bliss spread on the half of his face that was visible. A dopey grin, complete with a line of drool. His body's rocking movements continued.
"The hell …?" England muttered. "You're fucking sloshed …"
"Keeehhh …" America happily sighed. His hand broke away from his dick, then met the other behind him. He gripped his ass cheeks, spreading them wider.
That was when the swelled heat in England's pants became unbearable.
He assumed it was an invitation, and starting unzipping himself. He toed off his shoes at the same time he pushed down his pants and boxers, not taking his eyes off America. America and his awkward position: bent over the sink, barely remaining standing, spreading his ass wide and open, humping the air.
But when he approached America, he couldn't get behind him. As soon as he was near, America grabbed him by the shirt, balling a fist in the fabric, and looked up at him with wild, bloodshot eyes. England froze. He hesitated, wondering if he'd royally fucked up by assuming that America wanted anything from him.
"Don' judge me, m'kay?" slurred America.
"I-I'm not -"
"I was jus' so horny … 'n' … 'n' one thing led to 'nother 'n … well, it wasn't my idea!"
"Eh?"
"It just feels sooooo good …"
America was falling again. This time England made sure to be quick enough to catch him. He just didn't admit he was probably more motivated by the skin on skin contact he'd get in the process than actually helping him.
England caught him by the arm closest to him. America made a strange sound, looking frantically around the room.
"Shhh," said England. He lowered him to the floor, because America's dead weight was too heavy to support. "I'm sure the room looks like it's spinning but it's not."
"Hmmph," America pouted as he laid back on the floor. "Why'd ya do that?"
Most of England's weight shifted to his arms as he climbed on top of America.
"I didn't wanna stop …" America whined.
England straddled over him. "Why?"
"… felt good."
"Tch," England clicked his tongue. "You weren't even doing it right."
"Yeah, I waaaaaa … aaahhh …" America trailed off into a moan. England had purposely brushed their throbbing erections together. The heated skin on skin contact made him hiss.
"I'll show you how it's done, idiot."
England reached between them. He grasped their rock hard cocks and pressed them tightly together. He fought back what would have been an embarrassing noise while America went ahead and made a funny gasping sound. England slid his hand along their erections, watching America's face for a reaction. His dopey grin was back.
"Hehhh …" America panted through the silly grin. "Keep goin'."
Of course that was England's intent all along. The single sliding motion became a stroke, and then another. Soon England worked it into a good, rhythmic pace. He pumped their dicks together, making it so heated between them and his hand that he could feel his hand dampening with their sweat. England was long used to the feeling of a good wank, but the sensation of another cock sliding and pressing against his was new, unique, and even more pleasurable than he thought it'd be.
America too was thoroughly enjoying it. If his dumb, drunk grin wasn't enough evidence, he'd started chanting to England, "Yes, yes, yes, yes …" The sensation was new to him too, especially the feeling of England's foreskin sliding against his smooth, circumcised cockhead. He'd never known they were different in that respect, but the difference gave them both a unique sensation to feel against each other.
But they both wanted more. So England squeezed. He squeezed his hand hard, almost painfully hard, around their swollen cocks. The compression was incredibly tight, tighter than any hole either one of them had ever forced themselves into. The pressure was immense. England couldn't help but grunt from the pleasure, and America was far from shy, so he wailed, "God, YESSSSS!"
England squeezed them together so hard that America could feel tiny pricks from his nails digging in. America squirmed, screaming more: "HELLS YEEEEEAH! SHIT THIS FEELS SO GOOOOOO-"
England clapped his other hand over America's mouth. "Shut up! Someone will hear you!"
America held up a bottle of lube.
England was so shocked he stopping stroking. "What the fuck! Where the hell did you get that? !"
"From Canada," drawled America when England removed his hand.
"Canada?" England couldn't believe it. "You … you mean France, right? Canada doesn't carry this kind of stuff around with him … does he?"
America rutted his hips up. "Englaaaand," he whined. "Keep jerkin' meeeee …"
The bottle's cap was quickly popped and its contents squirted. England wasted no time, hastily pouring the liquid on his hand and returning it between their legs. He gripped them together again, but this time his grasp was sloppily slick. When he resumed stroking, it felt different. It was so slippery he could go even faster. He pumped with a frenzy, making both of them keen in pleasure. He had to fight back the aching soreness in his arms. Those muscles were stinging hot from stroking at such a fast pace, but he pushed past it, hoping the throbbing, delicious heat between his legs would drown it out.
But just in case, he decided to enlist some help. With his free hand, he clasped America's. He guided America's hand down to their erections. He put it over top of his own hand, forcing America to stroke along with him.
"You're sittin' on meeeee …" America whined.
"I need the balance … come on, please … do it with me …"
"Urggh … fine …"
Well, he tried. But both of them were reminded just how drunk he was when all he could muster was uncoordinated hand movements, occasionally even sliding his hand completely off of their dicks and wondering where the hell they went.
"God, I wish you were just a little more sober."
"Jus' a li'l, huh?"
England inwardly cursed at himself. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.
"I'll show you jus' how drunk I am."
England chuckled. "Was that an actual threat or were you joking?" His answer was America pulling him back down on top of him, so close that England was lying on America's chest. America forced England's face into his own, mashing them together into the worst, sloppiest, clumsiest 'kiss' England had ever experienced.
The loud, awkward, "UUUUUURRRRGGGGHHH" sound America moaned during it didn't help.
"Shut up," England said into the kiss.
"Nnm," said America, though he was actually trying to say the word, 'no.'
England took over the kiss, since he was the only one of the two who knew what he was doing. It happened so fast that both of them had a hard time processing it: tongues lashing, both grunting, hands roaming, rubbing, gripping whatever body part they could reach. America settled on balling his hands into the back of England's shirt. While still exploring America's mouth, England had started to rut his hips against America's abdomen, grinding his erection on America's stomach.
Then, suddenly and unknown to England, he found himself rolling. The room was spinning, it happened so fast, and soon he realized he was the one on his back. Somehow America was then on top of him, pinning him to the floor.
"Hahaha," laughed America. "Got ya now."
"Cheeky bastard."
"Hehe!"
"How the hell did you do that?"
"I'm wicked strong, dude. Jus' 'cause I'm drunk doesn't mean my awesome muscles disappear, duh!"
England got proof of this when he felt America's hands on his thighs. Those strong muscles had no issue prying England's legs apart. England sat up slightly, looking down at himself. America spread England's legs wide open. Then he paused to drink in the sight: England, legs spread out, bent at the knees, erect cock reddened and eager between them, and England's flushed face staring back at him.
It was another a glare, because England had assumed he would be the one topping. But in America's drunken haze, he didn't pick up on that detail.
"God, England, you look as hot as Canada right now …"
England swallowed thickly. "What," he managed to force out.
"Don' get mad. I said as hot, not almost, duh!"
"I … I didn't know you felt that way about him though."
"Um, duh."
England was staring off into space. He had to remind himself that America was drunk and didn't know what he was doing or saying. It wasn't until he felt America's hands spread his ass cheeks that he snapped out of it.
"Ah!" England gasped, his eyes immediately flicking down. America was still cupping his ass, holding the cheeks apart. He ran the length of his shaft along England's cleft, between the ass cheeks but not inserting himself. England shivered with a hiss in response.
America still had those wild, drunk, bloodshot eyes. He watched intently as he continued to slide his naked cock against England's ass. Because as he did so, he saw England's asshole twitching. The sphincter tightened and loosened, shuttering like a camera lens.
"Hahaha, you really want this, don'tcha?"
"Shut it," replied England, sucking in a breath.
America stopped sliding himself, but did no more. England waited patiently, then impatiently. Eventually he realized that America was waiting for him to do the work.
"Oh, for Christ's sake …" muttered England.
America just placed his cock near England's asshole. He made England move his hips to search for it. He rutted them around, finally finding the feeling of America's smooth cockhead, and pressed it against his hole, still twitching in anticipation.
England slowly took it in. The warm, thick, round pressure filled him up. America's cock was still slick from the lube, but it was still a very tight fit.
"Ohh-hhh-hhh …" shuddered America. He trembled as England took in the last inch of him. "YEEEEEEEAAHHHHH …"
"Shhh," hushed England through gritted teeth.
"It feels so good, sweet baby Jesus …"
"Then fucking move, idiot."
America rocked his hips, and England regretted his words. America's cock was huge. And with all those Four Lokos and Long Island Iced Teas, he didn't have the sense enough to hold back with his strength.
"Fuck," England swore. His hands tried to grip, but only slid down the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.
America gave England another rough thrust. "AHH!" England yelped. His entire body clenched, trembling. He squirmed under America, trying to find a position that wouldn't be as painful.
As America continued thrusting into him, it became apparent what a shitty job he was doing. England thought that kiss had been awful, but this was the sloppiest shag he'd ever gotten. America was drunk out of his mind, so it really shouldn't have been such a shock to England.
But he didn't think it would be that bad. America just humped. No rhythm, no finesse, no real effort. It was just cock in, cock out. It was stop and go too, with a few seconds of rapid thrusts, then he'd pause for a small break, then start over.
"Christ, how much did you drink, America?"
"Hehe …" snickered America. "I lost count. 's hard to count when you're drunk."
"You're dreadful at this."
"I'm a li'l better when I'm not drunk."
"Just a little, huh?"
America hadn't meant to say that out loud. But he was drunk and things just slip out.
England was no virgin and had had anal sex before. He knew it could feel good, really good, but it would require much more effort with such a poor partner.
He bucked his hips up, pushing past the pain, to squirm around for a better angle. He tried to remember just how to hit his prostate the right way. He rooted America's cock inside him, forcing it to explore every fraction, sliding against every inner wall. Finally he got it right and the pleasure burst inside him. It started off just brushing prostate, then he angled himself perfectly, so that every one of America's sloppy thrusts was a direct strike against the sensitive spot.
"Yesssss …" England whimpered.
"Oh, good," said America. "You're fin'ly gettin' into it …"
"No thanks to - FUCK," England winced, though it was from pleasure, "God … yessss …"
America shifted slightly.
"No!" cried England desperately. He moved his hips back to meet America's the same way. "Keep fucking right here." He found the spot again. It was obvious, as his head and eyes rolled back and he took in a big breath.
"Right here?" asked America, still pounding into the same spot.
"Shit … y-yes."
"'kay."
England had to temper his vocalizations. He realized they were getting louder. He stifled his moan but it still came out a desperate, "Au-uu-uggghhhhh …" with a breaking voice. "Goddamn," he hissed.
America took it the wrong way. He thought it was permission to be as loud as he wanted. "WHOOOOOOOOOOO!" he yelled, quickening his thrusts even more.
"Nnngghh …"
"GOD! ENGLAAAAAAAAAND!"
"Ummphh …"
"THISSSSSS ISSSSSSS AWESOOOOOOMMEEE!"
England sat up, curling himself into America, holding himself closer as he trembled in pleasure. He reached his arms around America's back. Then he dug his nails in, raking them up the entirety of his back. Long, red scratch marks were left behind.
"More, more, more, more, yes, yes, yes, yes …" chanted England.
"PENIIIISSSSSSSSSS!"
"… huh?"
"I'M PLAYIN' THE PENIS GAME WHILE BANGIN' SOMEOOOOONE!"
"Shut up!" England finally realized how loud they'd become. "Someone outside will hear you!"
"PENNNNNNISS- oomph!"
England clasped his hand over America's mouth. "I mean it! Shut up!"
America rolled his hips, making England squirm and cry out. "Yer loud 'oo," he mumbled through England's hand.
"Not as loud as you."
America resumed his sloppy, fast pace. England laid back and shuddered, enjoying the ride.
"Uggghh …" England groaned softly, holding back.
"… England …"
"Y-yeah … America, keep doing it right there …"
"England!"
"Fuck, I'm … I'm almost there …."
"ENGLAND!"
"Mmmmm … yeah …"
"AMERICA!"
"Yes …. right th … wait. What?" England opened his eyes. His hand was still over America's mouth. And he hadn't felt his lips move.
Who the hell was talking?
England was aware there was a haze. He assumed it was the heat of the moment, the ale, the lust clouding his mind. But then the haze materialized into a figure. A familiar figure. A naked figure.
"I've been trying to get you all's attention!" said Canada. "Why have you two been ignoring me? !"
England was dumbfounded.
The embarrassment killed the mood for him, and he assumed it would for America too. But to his surprise America just kept pounding into him.
"Sorry Canada," America said nonchalantly. "My bad. I got carried away."
"GET OFF OF ME!" roared England. He pulled his hips back, forcing America's cock to flop out.
"Why? It's jus' Canada. He's been here the whole time."
"WHAT? !"
"Duh."
England's face grew white. "Oh … oh, dear God …"
"What?" Canada had his hands on his hips. "You mean you didn't notice me?"
It wouldn't be the first time. He thought not noticing him in a meeting was bad, but compared to this … "I …! I'm so sorry, Canada! I had no idea you were in here!"
"Who'd you think was bangin' me when you first came in then?" asked America.
"Wow …" Canada rubbed his temples. "I've been asked 'who?' many, many times in my life … but never in that context before …"
"Hahahaha!" laughed America. "That's funny! 'You're gettin' banged' 'Who?' 'Canada …' Pffft, HAHAHA! That's so you!"
"I don't appreciate the impression of me, America."
"WHO? !"
"It's not funny anymore."
"Oh yes it is."
England was still sitting on the floor, absolutely horrified. "I … I just thought you were wanking yourself, America. I didn't see Canada at all!"
"Hahaha … that must've been some funny lookin' mastur-debatin.'"
"You guys are missing the point!" said Canada. "Think aboot how I felt when America and I were …"
"Bonin'," America finished for him.
"… yeeeah. Anyway, and then England comes in, and America just up and leaves me to be with England, and both of you completely ignore me!"
"I'm sorry …"
"I kept calling both your names the whole time, trying to get your attention! But no! Both of you ignored me until now!"
"I said I'm sorry, America!"
Canada glared back. That was not the best time to be mistakenly called America's name.
"Sorry, I meant Canada! CANADA!" said … America.
"How the hell did you make that mistake?" asked England.
"We jus' look so much alike!" said America.
"Damn, you really are wasted…"
"I said I was sorry!"
"I mean … wow …"
England looked over to Canada. "How … how did this all happen anyway?"
Canada sighed and shrugged. "How do these things ever happen?"
America yawned, still straddling England. It was a strange sight, since he was still rock hard. "We started playin' the Penis Game again," America said, still yawning.
"He started playing the Penis Game again," Canada corrected. "Then he thought it'd 'be so funny, dude' to whip it out, and one thing let to another … and … yeeeeeah …"
America yawned again. "Yeah, that's how it happened." He looked back down to England. "Can I put it back in now?"
England tensed. "What! But Canada's right there!"
"Um, I've always been here …" muttered Canada.
"Don' be all pissy, Canada, jeez," said America. "I never said ya couldn't join back in." America lowered himself, pressing his chest close to England's. England clenched, wondering what the hell he was doing.
But it was obvious to Canada. America's ass was then propped into the air for easy access. But just in case, America gave it a little shake. "There ya go," he said with a grin. "Have fun!"
"All three of us … at once?" Canada asked cautiously.
"Yeah, I'm not too sure about this either …" said England.
"Aw, come on, y'all. It'll be like so …"
They both thought he'd continue, but America's eyes fluttered shut.
"So what?" prompted England.
"Huh?" America startled back awake. "What was I talkin' 'bout?"
"Oi …" England grimaced, being reminded just how drunk America really was. "Don't fall asleep on me."
"I jus' feel … real tired …" His eyes started to close again, but then immediately sprang back open. He made a high pitched yelping noise, "EEEEE!"
"Oh, sorry," said Canada. "Didn't mean to startle you, eh?"
The head of Canada's cock had started to prod at America's entrance.
"'sallright," slurred America.
England stammered. He couldn't find the words. He thought Canada was more rational than this. Even with a couple lagers in him, he was the more sensible of the two brothers. Yet here he was, proceeding to try to fuck America, while America was still straddling him.
Then again, it shouldn't have been too surprising. After all, he noticed that Canada had never lost his erection during the entire ordeal he'd been forgotten. He may have been frustrated, but not enough that he wasn't still turned on by the two of them.
Canada slid himself in. Once fully sheathed, he took in a big breath, and asked America, "You good?"
"YUP!"
"Really?" England asked out loud. "We're really doing this?"
"Yeah, quit complainin', gosh!"
England cringed as America inserted himself back inside England. "Ugh," he grunted. "Give me a warning next time."
"How does this work exactly?" asked Canada. "I've never, uh, been part of a … um, ménage à trois before."
"Just say threesome, damn ..." grumbled England, reminded of France. "But I think we just … move together."
Canada shrugged. "Sounds good to me."
"ME TOOOOOO!"
"God! What did I tell you about being loud, America? !" exclaimed England.
"Hehehe … I forgot."
Canada rolled his hips. First backwards, then pushed himself back into America.
"AH!" America gasped.
The motion made America's mostly slack weight push into England. The bit of friction reminded America how good of a feeling he was missing, so on Canada's next thrust, he did the same in time with him to England. Both bodies thrusted simultaneously.
This added extra weight and power to America, practically doubling it. The result was that England was absolutely impaled by America's cock.
"SHIT," he swore. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, tears gathering in the corners of them.
It wouldn't have been so bad if America hadn't had been so drunk. But being so intoxicated, he was like dead weight between them. Not supporting himself, that weight added pressure on England, and he felt it with each thrust.
Canada wasn't nearly as drunk as America. He was coordinated enough to get a decent rhythm going between them. He set the pace, an even one, which was very much appreciated by England. It was much better than America's sloppy drunken attempt. Using Canada like a guide, America moved with Canada, doing the same movements he felt to England.
But England still couldn't adjust to so much pressure. It was more painful than pleasurable. He writhed under America, making a hissing noise through his nose. "Easy," he commanded.
America didn't hear him. He was easily the most contented one of the three, lost in a drunken, lustful stupor. "YEEEEEEEEAAAAHHHH …" he said with a big, stupid grin. Drool slid down one of the corners of his mouth.
"Fucking idiot …" muttered England.
America was too drunk to feel pain. Instead he felt two highly pleasurable sensations at once. Behind him was Canada's large, swollen cock, filling him nicely. It was probably a little too big, but the alcohol drowned out the pain so that he only felt himself being stretched, the feeling of being pleasantly full, and of course, the repeated striking of his prostate.
Then, in front, his own cock was tightly nestled inside England's warm hole. He didn't even have to do much work, as Canada set the speed and pushed him from behind, to get his friction from England. It felt even better than before. The added pressure made it even tighter, hotter, driving him mad.
So of course he had a dopey grin and drooled on himself.
As loud as America was during sex, England noticed that Canada was silent. Not even a grunt as he continued to pound himself away inside America. His face contorted, and he gritted his teeth, but he made no noise.
England smirked. France had wanted so badly to see how Canada would be during sex. How splendid it was that England now knew, and France did not.
"Hahahaha!" America suddenly laughed. "We should play the Penis Game!"
"America …" England spoke through gritted teeth. "Shut the hell up."
"PENNNNII- nmm!"
Once again, England forced a hand over America's mouth. "This is hard enough for me to bear without you yelling on top of it."
"Yeah, please, America," said Canada. "Take - unf - this a little more - s-seriously."
"Mm ohh unk." America had meant to say, 'I'm so drunk,' but it came out a muffled mess.
With America quieted, they could hear sex sounds that had been drowned out by his voice. They heard wet noises, where lube sloshed against skin repeatedly. It was squelching, wet, gross sounds. And it came from two places, one being just slightly behind the other.
The other sound in the room was a rapid clapping of skin as all three bodies slapped against each other.
England was frozen, clenching in pain that was gradually becoming mixed with pleasure, though not as much as he wanted. He couldn't find his voice among the intense pressure he was being repeatedly impaled with. He just held on, one hand steadying himself and the other tightly pressed against America's mouth.
Then, studying Canada's face, he realized that Canada wasn't as silent as he thought. Softly, so softly that he could barely hear, he was muttering "Dieu dieu dieu dieu dieu …"
"God!" barked England, finally managing to speak. "Say it in English!"
Canada switched to English, but he was still so quiet that even the wet noises and skin slapping sounds were louder than him.
"God god god god god …"
England grew jealous that the two of them were enjoying this so much more than him. He gave up and laid back to just wait for them to be finished. He sighed. Hopefully it wouldn't take too much longer.
But suddenly some of the weight was lifted off him. The pressure lessened, greatly reducing the pain. He opened his eyes to see that Canada was holding America very closely to him, supporting some of the weight.
"B-better?" asked Canada through pants.
"Yes, much …"
Canada pumped harder, transferring that thrust through America to England. It hit just right, sending a shiver up England. "A-ahh!" he gasped, not expecting to feel much pleasure again.
"Wow, that was a lucky guess …" mumbled Canada, then repeated his movements.
Then it was lucky for England over and over again. Canada slammed into America, the rough thrusts pushing him deeper into England, to strike his prostate repeatedly. Except this time, there was an actual rhythm to it.
"Y-yessss …" England desperately whimpered. "God, yessss …"
He stared back at Canada through hooded eyes, thankful to be saved from shitty sex. He watched, eyes transfixed, on Canada and everything he could see of him from his angle. His smooth pale chest, his rocking hips, his flushed face, his lips contorted in something like a grimace. His long hair curl, drooping between him and America, bounced along with their rhythm.
Along with America, it was a very nice view for England to have.
Too bad America liked to ruin the moment.
"HEHEHE," he giggled from between them. "This is like … a sammich."
"Shhh."
"I …" America paused to yawn again. "I wanna sammich …"
"Be quiet …"
"I SAID I WANNA SAMMICH!"
"Christ, you're - ah-AHH!" England interrupted himself with a gasp. "- i-infuriating."
"Am not."
"We don't even need you. You're just - ffff, god - d-dead weight."
"WHAT! Yeah huh ya do. Watch!"
America squirmed from Canada's tight hold on him. The pressure came flooding back to England and he rasped out a loud gasp. America started to thrust into him like before, sloppily and uncoordinated. It didn't match up with Canada, throwing them out of sync.
"What are you doing?" asked Canada, slowing down out of confusion.
"UHHHHH!" America strained out. "YEEEEEAH!"
"God, this is awful …" sighed England. He resigned himself to riding it out again.
"The heck …" muttered Canada. He watched America and his horrible job. He'd never seen such a pathetic attempt at sex. "So drunk …"
Then America's pace sped up even more. It was embarrassingly clumsy. It became so erratic that it was more like spasming than thrusting.
The shallow, fitful movements let England knew what was happening. America was coming. His already stupid grin spread wider, stretching across his entire face.
"PENNNIISSSSSSSSSSSS!" he screeched as he came.
America rode out his orgasm. England could feel him start to go soft inside him, already spent. But America continued to thrust into him even while going limp. He was desperate to get even a fraction of a second more of his orgasm.
Then he collapsed on top of England.
"Oi!" England tried to push him off. "You're crushing me!"
"Sit up, America." Canada tried to coax him up by pulling at his arms. "Come on."
No response.
"Eh? America?"
"…"
"… America?"
"Shite," said England. "I think he passed out."
Canada poked his cheek. Still no response. "I think you're right."
England took a good look at him: same dopey, wide grin, a sizeable amount of drool sliding down, all muscles slack. He looked quite silly.
"This might be an odd question …" started Canada, staring down at the dumb expression on his brother's face. "… but is it okay to keep going?"
"You mean …"
"Yeah," Canada hurriedly answered.
England nervously swallowed. "W-well … I mean, he's unconscious … but … he was consenting before he passed out … so … umm …"
"Oh, thank God," replied Canada with a sigh of relief. "Because I really wanna finish, but I don't want to seem … well, you know …"
"… right …"
"Plus …" Canada had a nervous smile. "In a way, this just makes things kinkier."
England's eyes widened. France had said the same thing earlier. That stupid frog corrupted this poor bloke … he thought.
Canada had never taken his cock out. He turned his attention back to America, pushing his hips into America's for another thrust. He found his pace quickly, and resumed his thorough fucking, pounding himself into America's unconscious body.
As Canada busied himself, England scooted back. He slid America's flaccid cock out of him, spilling cum that had been plugged up by America's dick still inside him. The cum ran down his thighs, making a sticky white mess.
"Ugh …" England groaned.
Canada was getting close to orgasm, but he noticed England's frustration. He reached down between England's legs. He grasped England's cock firmly in his hand. England gasped, surprised that Canada would touch him.
"Is … is it not okay?" Canada asked nervously.
"No, it is," said England way too quickly.
Canada gave him a weak smile. Then he stroked England's erection, trying to match the quick pace of which he was giving America.
England rose his hips to meet Canada's hand better. He desperately wanted more friction. "Unnffff," he moaned. "Yeah, yeah, faster, faster," he said with short breaths.
"Okay."
Canada responded just as England requested. His hand worked quickly, roughly, sliding up and down the shaft.
"Squeeze it, grip harder," England ordered.
"Um. Okay."
Canada obeyed, clutching very tightly around England's cock. It was immense pressure against the sensitive organ.
"Yeeeeeah …" England whined desperately. "Just like that … keep … keep doing it …"
Canada found it difficult to balance two tasks at once, both wanking off England and fucking America's ass, but he faired pretty well. Especially considering he wasn't completely sober himself.
England could feel his orgasm approaching. He clenched himself, curling all his toes and fingers. Then he spilled on Canada's hand, threads of hot white splurting between them. His body wracked with tremors, nerves tingling in ecstasy. "A-AMERICA!" he cried as he came.
Canada froze.
"… shit."
Canada made a frustrated grunting noise as his hand retreated.
"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "It was a slip of the tongue!"
Canada cut him a glare.
"You two just look so much alike! It's an easy mistake!"
"Right." Canada looked away, pretending to ignore him. He had business to finish. Business inside America.
England looked away too. He was far too embarrassed to match his gaze. Which was a shame, because he really wanted to watch. Twins fucking each other was hot. But it was too shameful, so he settled for listening instead.
Not that there was too much to listen to. Canada was so quiet during sex. And of course, America was still unconscious. There was only the squelching noises and skin slapping to listen to. Canada's breathing was heavy - short, shallow, staccato pants - but it was drowned out by the sounds of rough penetration.
Finally he arched himself, holding tightly. He only made a soft hissing noise as he came inside America. He held it there, drinking in the rush of his orgasm, gave another quick thrust, held it, then one more - then slackened with a heavy sigh.
He slid himself out of America, quietly catching his breath.
"I really am sorry," England said again.
"It's okay." Canada looked over America. "Right now I'm more concerned aboot what to do with this."
This referring to America's unconscious body. Lying on the floor, cum dripping down his ass cheeks and to his thighs.
"Umm." England hesitated. "That's a good question."
"Might I offer my services?"
England and Canada whipped around to see France standing in the doorway. A very prominent erection stood in his trousers. "I'll take him home."
"NO!" both England and Canada shouted back, though at different volumes.
"It's not fair!" cried France. "You three got to have all ze fun and left Big Brother out of it! You're so cruel!"
England covered between his legs with his hands. "How long have you been standing there? !"
"Long enough, honhonhonhon," he cackled.
"I wish I was invisible again," said Canada, wide-eyed with shock.
France flicked his eyes up and down Canada's body. "Oh, you're definitely not invisible to me right now."
"Maaaaple …"
"HONHONHONHON …"
X
The next day, England accidentally passed by America and Canada. The two were standing outside chattering about something, England didn't care what about. He just didn't want them to see him. He covered the side of his face with his hand as he tried to pass by unnoticed.
It didn't work. "England!" Canada called to him brightly. "Hey!"
England cringed. He'd have to talk to them.
"Ah!" said America, grimacing. He was wearing sunglasses. "Not so loud, dude!"
"H-hello," England said nervously as he grudgingly approached.
"Hey, England," America said happily.
Which was just a little confusing to England. It wasn't quite as awkward as it should have been for the morning after.
"Man, I gotta tell you," started America, "I had no idea, dude. No idea."
"No idea … about what?"
"Well, I'll be honest. Last night was my first time."
"No," England muttered. He swallowed thickly, a dread building in his throat. Dear God no, there's no way he was a virgin … shit, what have we done …
"Well, I mean, I'd drank a couple times before," continued America. "But last night was the first time I ever got drunk."
"Got …" England looked dazed. "… drunk …?"
"Yeah, dude! Can you believe I'd really never done it before? But it was awesome!"
"You … you did say 'drunk' right? You need to be very clear about this …"
"Yeah! I don't remember anything!"
England's eyes widened. "Really," he said cautiously. He looked over to Canada, who was quietly nodding behind America.
"I got my first hangover today."
"Heh … yeah, they're quite a bitch, aren't they …" England hoped America couldn't pick up on the nervousness in his voice.
"Yeah. I just didn't know they made both your head and your ass hurt the next day!"
"Ha … ha ha …" England chuckled. "You really don't remember anything about last night, do you?"
"Nope. Why?"
"Oh, no reason …" The nervousness turned into something more sinister. "Saaaay … you know what cures a nasty hangover? More drinking. What do you say we have a few drinks toni-"
"ACTUALLY!" interrupted Canada. It was the loudest either of them had ever heard him. "I WAS GOING TO INVITE AMERICA OUT FOR DRINKS TONIGHT!"
"Owww, my head!" cried America, rubbing his temples. "Stupid hangover!"
"Good Lord." England looked shaken. "I … I didn't know you could reach that decibel, Canada."
Canada gave England a wink. "Only on special occasions."
"Sure, Canada!" America looked excited. "I'll go drinking with you, bro! We can get Four Lokos!"
"Sounds great."
They turned to leave, waving farewell to England. "Bye, England!" said America.
"Uh …" England was too shocked to muster a wave. "… bye?"
Canada looked over his shoulder with a smirk that reminded England far too much of France. "Au revoir, Angleterre."
He watched them walk off together, standing there, dumbfounded.
It would be a lonely night of wanking for England.
(End.)