Hello everyone! Thanks for all the lovely reviews!
Anywho! The brilliant Coins Compressed agreed to do this fic with me so I really hope everyone enjoys it and a massive thank you to her; she's amazing!
WARNING: SOME YAOI IS COMING YOUR WAY SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.
Thirty-One: Lust
"HAHAHAHAHA! I love that joke! Don't you love that joke?"
England rolled his eyes at the girl sprawled out of the sofa opposite him and the man beside him. The man, in turn, chuckled slightly and said, "Sure, Emily, it's awesome."
Once again, a quiet night in at England's house had turned into his sister drinking three bottles of that damn frog's red wine and getting completely and utterly pissed. France, himself was in the kitchen, getting everyone cheese and biscuits and coffee, in a weak attempt to sober his girlfriend up a bit.
"You know," Northern Ireland started, having settled down and was now staring up at the ceiling, giggling slightly, "You two act like a pair of virgin Mary's. Do you ever have sex? Like ever?"
America gaped at the small nation while England scowled at her, trying his hardest to seem nonchalant about her question.
"I don't see how that is any of your business Northern Ireland." He replied curtly, eyes burning a hole into the back of his sister's head. She simply laughed.
"Well, yeah, it kinda is; if you're not going to do anything with him, England, let America spend a night or two with me, then he'll know exactly what's he's missing. I don't mind giving him lessons; it could even be described as 'taking one for the team'."
The extremely drunk brown-haired nation looked up and stared at the handsome man beside her brother, her lips curving into a small, seductive smile; a smile England had seen way too many times before.
"Because you really are very, very good-looking America." She whispered, managing to stand up and swaying slightly, she sauntered over to them then stumbling, leading her to fall onto America's lap. America coughed nervously while England was mentally shooting daggers at his sister.
"Well, isn't this convenient?" She slurred, stroking America's cheek as his face turned to the colour of a ripe tomato, "So how about it? I mean, why have only one Kirkland when you can have two?"
England's face went from white, to red, to dark red and now threatening to change to purple as he screamed out, "FRANCE! GET YOUR GIRLFRIEND HOME, NOW!"
Suddenly the blonde-haired man came flying into the living room, sat the cheese plate down, laughed slightly at the scene before him and then slowly picked up Northern Ireland and held her bridal style. She looked up and gasped in delight.
"FRANCE!" She squealed and hastily pressed her lips to his.
America and England rolled their eyes slightly as Northern Ireland drew back.
"I think it's time we headed home. I think you've drank a little too much." Northern Ireland tried to protest but looked like she was going to fall asleep and so refrained from doing so.
"Say goodbye to your brother and America!"
Emily slowly turned to look at her brother and waved at him to come closer. Sighing, he got up out of his seat and was immediately pulled into a big hug, his sister kissing him over and over again on the cheek.
"Yes, I get it; I'll talk to you tomorrow morning Northern Ireland." England snapped, swatting at her.
She then grabbed America and proceeded to do the same thing, while he laughed.
France shook hands with them both and the two men watched the couple through the large window to their right as France put Northern Ireland in the back seat of his car and drove off quickly.
America turned to England, grinning.
"Your sister certainly is very-"
"Say another word and you can leave here tonight with a black eye." England growled, glancing at the American beside him.
America simply laughed.
"I wasn't going to say anything bad. I was just thinking and I hope you don't take this the wrong way but because of the way Northern Ireland's acting tonight, there's no doubt in my mind that when they get home, France and Northern Ireland are totally going to have sex."
England groaned, throwing his head back on the sofa.
"Honestly America! Not something I want to hear. But, what's your point?"
America leaned closer to England, trailing his hand up his arm.
"I was thinking we should copy them and do the same, hm?"
England didn't even get a chance to agree or disagree because America, smirking, grabbed him by the shirt and hungrily pressed his lips to his own.
[LucyMoon1992 stares at the computer, her fingers settled on the keypad. 'Hm. Lust. Oh crap! I'm no good at writing about-'Suddenly she is pushed out of the way by her English friend, Coins Compressed, who looks at the computer gleefully before adding, 'Leave the rest to me.' And so enter Coins Compressed for the second part of this awesome Fanfic! =)]
"What," England said, jerking backwards and raising his arms in some kind of defensive gesture, "do you think you're doing?"
America grinned and set his hands down on the armrests of the sofa, leaning over England with an amused expression. "Doing you, hopefully."
"That's not what I meant," England replied. His teeth ground together and he furrowed his brow, hands clenched into fists. "Don't tell me you're as drunk as Emily was."
America shook his head, leaning across to flick of the light switch embedded into the wall to England's right. "Nobody can reach that level of drunk easily." His demeanour changed as he added, "Take me to bed, England."
"Indeed; you're drunk," England said, squirming slightly in his chair. "You'll think differently about things in the morning. Go to bed by yourself."
America had always found it easy, every time England brought up the issue of sex in the past, to brush it aside- even after they'd been officially a couple for who knew how long. Because America had been nervous, not wanting to mess up on his first time with England, not wanting to let him down or do something stupid. So it was only natural England didn't believe him when he finally wanted to instigate something.
"I'm serious this time," America declared. "I'm not going to bed unless I can take you with me."
As his eyes widened from the onslaught of no doubt perverse thoughts, England groaned, sinking down against the chair whilst desperately avoiding America's gaze. "You don't know what you're saying."
America removed his hands from the armrests and grabbed England's collar, pulling him forward until they were nose-to-nose. He kept his gaze fixed on England's eyes as he muttered, "I know exactly what I'm saying. Fuck me."
That was enough; England got to his feet and seized America's wrists, still clinging to his shirt, and dove into a kiss. It was too fast, lacking finesse, and their teeth clinked together before America tilted back his head to allow England access at a slightly more comfortable angle. The grip of England's fingers on America's wrists intensified in its strength as they began to move, stumbling across the floor, using America's body as a battering ram through the thick oxygen and scent of wine threatening to smother the living room and those inside it.
And then they fell backwards as they reached the other side of the room, supported only by the large window that took up two thirds of the West wall. The glass shuddered as America leant against it, throwing back his head and ignoring the impact against the pane, England's lips latched to his neck and sucking at his flesh.
The moon was in full swing as far as its light was concerned; America momentarily panicked that perhaps people walking around on the street would be able to see him and England pressed up against the window from outside. He would have raised his concerns, but then he realised that's what England wanted- to have people possibly looking, peering in, shocked and then fascinated by what they might see.
Because there was nothing short of lust in England's eyes, drawn out by the promise of sex and the permission to finally discover the intricacies of America's body. As America let go of England's collar and allowed his arms to fall by his side, England dropped America's wrists simultaneously and slipped a hand up his shirt. Cool fingers, far too cool considering the temperature of the room, drew across America's abdomen, a thumb circling a sensitive spot beneath his ribs.
Before too long England was simply petting him, fingertips leaving sharp tingles of arousal in their wake as, inch by inch, America allowed himself to be stirred by England's touches. America slipped his hands up onto the base of England's back and supported him as he arched upwards, unbuttoning America's shirt from the inside by tearing away the buttons and paying no heed to wherever they landed.
"Should've done this ages ago," America muttered, as England tugged away his shirt. "Should've let you-"
"Shush," England said, simply, and America obliged, allowing England to continue doing whatever it was he was doing.
There wasn't any real plan behind his ministrations, he simply did whatever he liked, tracing over America's ribs and teasing the softer skin around his nipples but never quite reaching them- and America didn't care, because he was more sensitive across the area of his chest than areola, every stroke to his torso feeling like it was accompanied by one to his cock.
England's hands continued to roam, veering back towards America's abdomen and sweeping down to his waist, fumbling with his belt until it finally came undone. The release of the belt loosened the tightness in America's trousers, and he let out a groan as England raised a knee to press against his crotch. America felt like he'd been hard forever, the weight and heat between his legs far too much, almost able to feel England's fingers on his calves, almost able to detect a warm tongue against his already-burning thighs.
His breathing was shallow, swift- the temperature of his body was a stark contrast to the coldness of the window behind his back, every chill sent through his spine from the night air against the glass forced into battle with the scorched bursts of stimulation brought on by England's actions.
"C'mon," America said- almost pleading. "I didn't ask you to do nothin', I said-"
"I know what you said," England snapped. "But you took so long to let me get you like this that I'm going to spend my time enjoying you, thank you."
Well, America could hardly argue with that; England wasn't admitting it, but America knew England was somewhat in awe, delighted at being able to hold on to him, to have him on display in such an intimate manner- America wouldn't let England have him up against a window every night, but he couldn't deny being excited at the possibilities, the inherent thrill at the idea of being watched keeping him hopelessly erect, waiting, gasping for air.
He bucked forward, the friction with the material of his boxers granting him some sort of relief, but England clearly disapproved of America trying to relieve his frustration- England reached down, pulled down America's boxers, and went back to igniting his chest with teasing touches that coiled his climax tighter and tighter in his balls. Though he couldn't let go and come; not until England actually aided him, but England seemed all too happy to ignore America's stiff cock and continue playing with him like a cherished prize. England was winding him up, getting him going, and all for nothing.
"You've grown into an excellent man," England muttered, lips against America's shoulder. The vibrations travelled straight to his hands and America's fingers flexed against England's back before he pushed his nails into England's clothed skin without meaning to, instinctive. "I can hardly believe you want to be with me, out of everyone you could have. Your judgement is crazy. Either that or you're stupider than I thought, but it works out very well for me."
America felt like saying something reassuring but his throat choked back his speech; he could only writhe, trying to keep his arms from thrashing and digging his nails instead into England's back even more. He knew he was stronger than England, and he knew such a firm grip might end up tearing England's shirt and breaking his flesh, but he needed something to hold on to, to steady himself with.
When England's hand unexpectedly deciding to grip his erection, he felt momentarily that he might just die there and then.
The shock at finally being touched was too much. England's thumb circled the damp, chubby head, running his fingers around the length; America didn't realise he was coming until after the lack of oxygen in the room and his lungs forced him to gasp, head slamming against England's shoulder and body shuddering as he spent himself over England's cuffs.
It wasn't the touches, or the expertise of England's movements, that sent America over the edge- it was a glance of the look in England's eyes. Something so basic, primitive, entirely sexual; something America hadn't expected to ever see from England, and the best part was it was all directed at him. All America saw, when he looked into England's eyes, was himself reflected back, wanted.
"Lovely," England said, simply. "I don't deserve you. You're absolutely lovely."
"D'we have anyone watching?" America asked, as he grinned against England's neck. Too tired to move just yet, but wanting to keep the conversation alive, wanting to hear England's voice and feel him breathing, steadily, in comparison to America's own shaky gasps.
"I don't know," England said, while one arm wrapped around America's shoulders and pulled him back into an embrace. Then England reached out with his free arm to pull the curtain cord and they drew, pulled by the wires, until the room was dark, save from one small candle on the table and a crack of moonlight allowed in by the small gap between the two curtains. "If anyone did see you, they were lucky indeed."
"That was awesome," America murmured, "but you're still taking me to bed."
England laughed. "You're insatiable."
"No," America said, lowering his voice and muttering into England's ear, "but I wanna return the favour." England's eyelids fluttered as America reached down to stroke him through his trousers; he was unbelievably stiff, turned on by the sight of America lost in the throes. As England's palms, slick from sweat and come, pressed flat to America's chest and his lips pursed just a little, America knew he had him won over completely. "Let's go. Upstairs. We'll make sure to outdo anything France and Northern Ireland could."
"Well,' England said, grinning as America led him from the room, 'if you put it like that..."
Wheeehey! Hope you enjoyed that! A huge, HUGE, thank-you to my partner-in-crime, Coins Compressed for writing the second part of the story- which was amazing! Please show your appreciation and review! She'll be checking to see if you have written nice things about her, I can assure you! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x