WARNING WARNING: SELFCEST, DUBCON, SEXXXXXXX (but not graphic! :D)

So, I started this fic out in normal third-person, but it didn't agree with me. *glances down* I've, uh, never done second-person, so IDK. It looks alright. Gives it a different, feel. It allows me to say things I can't actually say unless it's 3rd-person omniscient, and that's kind of annoying for me.

We be of one blood, ye and I - The Jungle Book

"Stop." You plead. You seek out his gaze, eyes hazy from the drugs he put you under. His cold red eyes scare you, so much like yours, yet not. You arch away from his touch on your chest, turning your head away.

You flinch as he flicks your nipple. A bright red flush appears on your cheeks as he chuckles.

"You like that?" He murmurs, before slowly setting himself down on your lap, cocks brushing. You shake your head vehemently, your eyes wide as you sluggishly try to push him away.

"Am—America." You slur, trying to push yourself away from the man with the cold red eyes, the man who is you, the man who is everything you fear of yourself, yet everything you want.

He smiles darkly, and leans down; wet tongue flicking up your neck. You whine, trying to get away. You don't want this, you don't want him.

"America." He replies softly against your neck, before biting down harshly on your neck. You cry out, eyes wide with shock as the pain flashes down your back.

He laps at the blood, a slight shiver rocking down his body. He grinds down against you and you squeeze your eyes shut. You don't want this, you don't want him—you need, you want, you have.

He grabs your chin and forces your blue eyes to meet his. You have one moment to see the need and the desperation in his eyes, before he presses his lips to yours, soft and so unlike him. And you kiss back. You don't know why, but you kiss him back, as if you're the one desperate and needy.

"Let me love you." He whispers brokenly into your lips, clutching on to you as if you're everything he needs, everything he wants. In that moment, his whole demeanor is different. He's scared, and he needs, and you're there.

In that moment, you can be the hero. It figures that the only person you can save is yourself. The only person worth saving.

But the moment is gone. He shifts and then he's forcing his tongue inside, rocking up into you in a hard rolling motion that sends you skidding on your floor. He's rough, his nails scratching down your bare back leaving red welts that rise up. It's painful, and you keen as you arch away and into him.

"Let me have you." He hisses, grip tightening on your hips as he rocks down, pressing his cheek to yours. You know that tomorrow there'll be dark bruises littering your sides. Bruises that you'll match your fingers as you press on them and remember this.

Your blue eyes water behind Texas and a soft whine escape you as you throw your head back, leg hooking around his hip. You don't know why you're doing this. You don't know why you're responding to him, why you're rubbing against him, why you want him so bad.

"You have me." You gasp, arching up into him, into you. You don't know why you're saying that. But it's true. Of course it's true. You have him, and he has you. You are he, and he is you.

He laughs, bitterness seeping through insanity. He's shaking, and you feel wetness on your cheeks. You blink; you're surprised. You press your lips to his, and he kisses back desperately, need shaking his form. The rocks of your hips grow erratic, matching his frantic pace. And in a few moments you both still, eyes rolling back into your head as you call each other's name softly. It's the same name, of course it is. You are but one person.

It's only when he disappears that you realized you were both crying.

"L'Amerique's been off, recently." France comments idly, resting his chin on his hand.

Britain bites his lip. "I've noticed. Elections are coming; you know how he gets. His nation's been fighting against itself. Politically, at least."

Canada looks up at that, purple eyes wide with worry. "Is he—you know? Is He popping up?" He asks quietly, hugging the polar bear closer to his petite body. France and he look to Britain, slight fear behind their eyes.

Britain sighs. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case." He shifts uncomfortably, a slight flush staining his cheeks.

France gives him an odd look. "Angleterre, has yours been visiting?"

Britain flinches. "Afraid so. They come together, as you are aware." He looks away from the gaze of Canada and France, carefully adjusting his sore body.

It was true. The United States and the United Kingdom did go together, much like Canada and France. If America's Alter was here, then so was Britain's.

AN: Stop judging me!

*shrinks back into the corner*

Its just-Selfcest is really really hot, okay? Don't you think so? Am I only one? THERE'S BEEN SO FEW 1Px2P. LET ME HAVE MY SELFCEST, OKAY?

On another hand, I have no idea why I'm using 'Britain' and not 'England'. I've always used England, but uh, now I just don't? IDEK, OKAY. Britain sounds much more classy.

-DD

BRITAIN NEXT!