Author's Note:
Been a while. Back to PC. This'll be the last DenAme fic for the year ON RANDOMNESS. I really want to concentrate for Unrequited...though I have a bag load of fics for this before I start lessening the amount of activity here.
Coming up: Little NORDIC Brothers 4, NorBela, America-1 meets America-908 (the America here), FACE family, Slavic family...yeah...
This fic is a LITTLE racy...Especially Den-kun's thoughts...what can he do if America's showing SooOooOOOOooo much skin! (Fair warning)
If you think that America's a guy with clean flawless skin, unmakred by scars (well I think that most fics picture him with) and TATS, then...you shouldn't probably be reading this if you want to keep that perfect image in your mind forever. Well, not only America if you want all of them to maintain their clean image...So yeah, no ready-ready if you no like many tats. NO, NO PORN.
My life: Tired from schoolwork. Love Tumblr. Love Christmas. Love Life. Love FF.
GCJakey's Note:
My Life: Still not ready to learn anything new about anatomy. I'm scared to learn the male body. I'm frustrated 'coz I can't seem to draw the same cahracter in different angles.
I love this fic, just cause SEXUAL things are thought of...I mean, some shows do it...so I think this won't be a problem. If it is, please tell me and I will do what is necessary to fix it, since I co-manage this account.
This story is placed a long time after 'Sexy and He doesn't know it'...a lot of characters had a lot of ink jobs before this, as you will be reading.
I'm just as paranoid as Tailed about the tats, maybe some people won't like them.
ArtyStole: I won't mind if you draw stuff...XD, We're actually very VERY VERY flustered that you'd actually say that! THANK YOU :"))))))) About the China thing, we already have an idea buzzing and it just so happens that that was the boost we needed to lift up another suggestion give awhile back.
Hetalia is not ours. 'NOUGH SAID.
Comment. Suggest. Fave. Follow.
EXPOSED:
America was in a huge tent set up in the Grand Canyon.
He was only wearing a robe and was sitting on a comfy foldable chair whilst playing Lego batman on his PSP. He did look a little older due to his chin and upper lip being peppered with darker blonde stumbles.
"Hey, how ya doin'?" His Danish best friend came in, smiling warmly. He wore a loose grey tank top with a faded Danneborg print and red pants. His cool blonde hair was partially covered by a black knit cap. The loose sleeves revealed his tribal ice crystal tattoo on his right forearm and then, his rosary tattoo twisting up his biceps and Psalm 23:4 scribbled beautifully down his right trap and shoulder. On his left arm was the passage of Jeremiah 29:11 on the inside part of his upper, and a Viking emblem on the massive shoulder and 'Iesous CHristosTHeou Uios Soter' on his wrist and two lines making out a fish. He was EXTREMELY handsome with his geeky glasses and unclean face.
"Good, 'til you reminded me that I was doing this." America's face turned sour.
"Hey, I told ya that I didn't like the idea but ya went with it anyway. Are ya chickening out?" Denmark walked closer behind the scarcely clothed American, who was in front of an oval mirror.
"HELL NO! I'm a man of my word!" Alfred crossed his arms and directed his head to the side with a huff. "Plus, Maria and Santiago really need all the help I can give right now..." He looked down, blushing a bit.
"Alright-y!" Matthias pulled the younger man to his feet and started pushing him towards the light coming from the door, hands gripping tightly on the taut shoulder. "For the Philippines! Don't mess this up, Kuya Al!" He teased.
"A-alright, for the Philippines..." America sounded less enthusiastic.
'Papa needs some new pics for his collection.' Dirty thoughts were starting to cloud the Dane's mind, probably the main reason why he brought a shit load of extra film. All he wanted now was the robe off the American.
Suddenly, a conglomeration of fur jumped for Alfred making him yelp and fall to the floor.
"A-are ya ok-" the question was interjected by wagging tails, playful barks, strong pants, sloppy licks, soft purrs, and a loud laugh.
"S-stop it, dudes...I still have to do something!" America giggled as his pets pinned him in perfect unison and strength.
He had three dogs. A Goldie named sheriff, who lost one eye. A rough Collie named Roselle with the most luxurious white and tan coat. A deerhound named King who was born without a leg. Then there was a gigantic Maine coon cat named Nikolas with the lushest coat of red smoke.
The young man had 'enough' strength to sit up, his four furry friends immediately went to their accustomed positions. Nikolas allowed his stomach to mold over Al's head. Roselle had her head on his lap. Sheriff was behind him, head resting on the broad shoulder. Finally, King wriggled under his master's embrace, belly exposed.
"I thought that you might need them." Canada stepped in wearing a simple white shirt over cargo shorts. Kumajirou was with him.
"Thanks, Mattie." Al was truly grateful as he snuggled his pets tighter.
"You are most welcome." The older twin smiled, mentally noting that the robe was slipping of his younger twin's shoulder and that his briefs was already showing. Then his eyes snapped to Denmark, the man who has stolen his brother's heart.
"Hello, Mr. Denmark." He greeted softly as usual.
"God dag!" The taller man greeted enthusiastically.
"OH MON PETIT ALFRED!" Their French 'mother' came in, only wearing shorts and he didn't have anything under that. His sweaty body, blushed and bruised, only indicated that he and his lover did it again moments before heading to the tent.
(A/N: let us take a moment to appreciate FrUk's bodies...just saying, they've always been popping out of nowhere.)
The French man's body was buff (not as buff as the other three present) his hair was just the right thickness and it did require him to shave to show how much 'ab-age' he had. There were scars, of course, although most of the huge ones were already healed enough to be unseen unless directly looking at it inches away. The only one that was kinda still there was a huge one from a sword that ran from his left shoulder all the way across his back, going down. He had a tattoo he called the 'six roses', which were six roses that were bundled together, forming a cluster starting from his hip going down his left pelvis. Of course, he had an Eiffel tower tattoo on his inner left forearm and the name 'Jeanne de Arc' above it. But what he held most dear was of course, a simple crucifix near his heart and 'Arthur Kirkland' written in cursive.
"I cannot allow you to do this without thinking it through! They'll objectify you! You can do better, you're a pediatric brain surgeon, chef, a math professor, a chemist, a physicist, and...and everything else you do for a living! YOU ARE THE TYPE OF GUY WOMEN AND MEN WILL DROP DEAD FOR! And furthermore..." He jerked the younger nation away from his animals, gripping him by his burned wrist, actually caressing the parts of his palm that were burned too out of his nurturing habit for the American.
"Don't pretend like you haven't modeled nude for playgirl, Francis!" Arthur stepped in, only wearing a huge shirt and boxers (France's). "At least Alfred has the decency to pose wearing underwear."
Though not seen, Arthur also had a good bod. It was smaller than Francis, smaller than Norway...well, he worked out at least. He had defined abs and chest, fairly smooth, having hair where it counted. He looked at least light swimmer built. He had numerous small tattoos, like skulls and native warrior emblems, littered across his body due to his pirating days and 'Francis Bonnefey' scribbled on his heart. Other than that, he was rather unevenly tanned.
On an interesting note, the Brit topped a lot...yeah...
"Who's side are you on?" Francis shook his 'husband' wildly, frantic that his plan failed. He thought that doing hot dirty canyon sex (something Arthur coincidentally had been dreaming of for a while) would make Artie more lenient to him.
"You taught him to sacrifice for the greater good and this company is willing to pay good money to slap his billboard all over the world and give the money to the Philippines." England faced his lover, saying his lines like a machine.
"NON!" France picked America up, with a bit of strain. "You're nineteen, Al, you're still a minor!"
"A minor who works in a hospital and has his own restaurant and I'm pretty sure I'm way passed an eon old! (I'm close to two...I think)" America stepped down carefully, making sure that Nikolas would fall safely to the ground.
"They need help and I'll provide for the two anyway they can...mi amigo helped me think about it, you know?" France has never looked this angry his whole life. His nostrils were fuming fire and his vacant eyes were rage-white, he pulled out his phone and immediately searched for the damned Spaniard's name.
"I will fuck that bastard!" The touch-sensitive screen of his phone was pressed on repeatedly with his violent thumbs. "Toni has NO business with your life, even if he's a close friend of mine and yours!" The French's comment made Denmark smirk in agreement.
"Hey, Toni didn't force me to do this, he's one of my best friends! He just told me to do what I think was right and I think any means to get more money for them is the right thing to do." America pouted, snuggling to soften Francis. The Dane, however, stared at horror...he didn't want anyone to share his 'best friend' spot, especially not S-Spain...
"He's my BEST friend too!" Francis flooded Antonio with numerous empty threats and was now planning to call him...
"Mason. Mason Johnson, Ms. Debora wants to start in two minutes, you better get out there..." A shy intern stepped into the madness, her petite frame was draped with a boxy collared shirt and a floral peplum skirt. Her black hair was tied into a lazy bun and her brown eyes shined through her hot pink glasses.
The four other blondes looked at each other, confused. Before they could ask who she was referring to, Alfred pulled away from his adoptive father and stepped towards the young girl.
"Sure." He answered before winking mischievously at the four men.
After a strange moment of silence, the four began racing towards the tent's door, shoving one another like little kids. In the end, England fell flat on his face, France's elbows caught him, Canada was pushed by Denmark, who was the only one left standing.
"Good, you didn't shave. Okay, from the way you look, I can tell that you are one of those sweet nice guys. TYPICAL boy-next-doorsy type. I don't want that from you." The photographer said, rolling her sleeves up her pudgy arms. Her red velvet hair was cut very short yet soft. She had a lot of freckles and her green eyes contrasted the very warm tones of the environment.
"I saw the way you danced with the girl, I want that! I want the darker, more sensual side of yours. I see no reason why you cannot deliver it with the perfect skin you had that night...or did you use some concealer?" The full figured woman asked teasingly, making the young-looking American smile and raise his hands up in mock defeat.
"Okay...I might be hiding a 'bit' of ink." He chuckled warmly with rosy cheeks, the crew was left charmed senseless.
'Damn it, Y U GOT 2 B SO FUCKIN' CUTE!?' Matthias squeezed his fists and gritted his teeth, trying hard not to sweep the younger nation off his feet and plant one on him hard.
"Now we all have tats here." Debora clapped, urging him to peel the navy blue robe off. Just then, her viridians wandered the soft, light yet vibrant golden locks that were sprayed lightly with warm tangerine. "Is your hair natural? I've never seen copper blonde of your shade before."
"I was born with this color, I've never dyed my hair before." The nation answered truthfully with that easy smile of his.
"Okay let's get started." Debora immediately ducked to assume her position.
"Someone's gettin' impatient." That sexy accent kicked in, driving the Dane wild from a distance.
The silk robe slipped from the very broad shoulder, the ropes of his two necklaces, a huge scar and bullet wounds already showing. The robe fell off completely and the one thing that the everybody noticed and were shocked at (except Canada) was the number of tats that decorated his body, particularly on the right side. Why the hell haven't they seen THOSE before?
The camera went off, flashing over and over again and America continuously changed position and posed like he was a natural model.
"That's it, get really comfortable. Cigar, please." the photographer ordered one of the helpers
He was handed a lit cigar. He inhaled some of the fumes and breathed it out slowly for the camera.
The three old countries were definitely furious, though all afraid to interfere knowing that they could get their asses kicked by the sweet Alfred.
His pumped shoulder had one dream catcher big enough for the front part of his shoulder and some of the part that joined the limb to the main body. The detailing was sublime with bluish green tints around the circle as well as some faded red and brown. Three strings around the bottom of the loop ran down his arm ending with feathers and on the middle and longest one, a sole wooden cross with Jesus on the middle and with some wooden beads attached to it. THEN THERE WAS THE THORN WRIST TATTOO PEOPLE SAW!
Alfred raised his arms over his head, revealing the abs that need not to be flex. One hand moved down to the waistband of the briefs, pulling it down slightly.
His left inner forearm had Matthew 18:22 over diagonal claw marks, all in black cursive. His right side, slightly under the chest area, was engulfed with three bigger dream catchers clustered with several smaller ones that were connected by their loops going down...down...down...passing his dark blue boxers...down..down to his upper thigh. The huge body art was covering some major scarring, still the main attraction was his more than perfect eight packs with that freaking happy trail!
He turned to show his left side, marks littered everywhere like his right side. There was a small torch near the waistband as well as 'Freedom' just below it.
The Europeans were so transfixed that they failed to notice the movements made by the nation.
"Great. Now the back!" Debora gestured 'Mason' to turn around. He did so with his sweet smile.
THERE WAS THAT CUTE TRIBAL FEATHER THING ON THE BACK OF HIS SHOULDER THAT EVERYBODY COULD SEE. But then there was Romans 12:2 inked across his upper back. The huge collections of loops continued a bit towards the small of his back, cobwebs fading until it melted seamlessly with the fairly tanned skin. Then there was a burn mark on the small of his back and just a few inches above his left ass cheek, near the waistband, was '100% American Beef' stamp inked like one of those slogans advertising charcoal-grilled burgers.
America gave a sultry smile. His backlit sapphires were even stronger due to the light. His back was on full view and everybody, even Debora, was looking directly at the two perfect globes that were hiding under the soft cottony cloth.
"Can you do something dirtier?" The woman said what was on Denmark's mind. The innocent facade came back as Al though for a while.
"Um...in the straight sense...or in the rainbow sense?" The American asked politely.
"Ambiguous as possible." She smiled, enjoying him more than any other model she has come across.
"Okay then..." Al said blushing in embarrassment, but he still had to do it.
~* Pans towards the four men's faces*~
"I LOVE IT...YES...MORE...HOLD THAT...OH GOD! YES...MASON..." The wild cries of the photographer were very very accurate indeed.
Arthur and France were wide-eyed in shock. It was like they've failed as parents and they were expecting the boy's real mother to rise from the grave and kill both of them.
Canada smiled encouragingly, he knew his brother was very uncomfortable inside...but he was strangely proud of how well his younger brother was handling all this.
Denmark stuck balls of tissue up his nose and got his camera and his sketch pad and his video cam. He was definitely going to take a shit load of notes. Honestly, practicing on the latter was not required at all being a VERY VERY VERY awesome artist already. However, the opportunity was too good to pass.
~*After three underwear changes*~
America was still naked. He was eating the Roast beef sandwich he made earlier and he was about to finish up and give the four other men the sandwiches he made for them but the three older Europeans suddenly surrounded him.
"How long have you had those tattoos, AMERICA?" America irked. France calling him by that meant that he was very pissed and disappointed.
"I am very curious as well..." Britain looked like some shit murderer as well. His brows had brows and his eyes were almost red.
"Ja..." Denmark had some rolled up tissue crammed in both of his nostrils which made him look funny. He was behind the two and looked like he was the most pissed.
America didn't care for the two, he got used to them...but Matthias...Matthias...he was different.
"About a decade, I think..." But America wasn't scared that much though. He knew that they'll simmer down after a minute.
"I just put some make up on when I'm dancing or something like that." Alfred was looking up the tent roof, unable to formulate anymore answers. "Also, it's not like I'm shirtless all the time, so...yeah...sorry." He smiled.
"Is that all?!" The three asked in unison. "God knows what you're hiding!?"
"Lay off him, will you?" Canada stepped between them. "The nerve of you people getting riled up for something silly as a tattoo."
"You! YOU TRAITOR! Why did you keep this from us?" France and England gripped on his shirt while on their knees, teeth as sharp as knives.
"Al wanted to see how long he could keep his tats a secret, I mean...all I know was that the three of you already knew. Prussia (the one who inked it) spread it all over the net a few years back, eh? Furthermore, I don't recall that it was my job to report every detail of his life." Mattie turned his to face his brother, who was playing with his furry friends while still in his boxers. "Are you going to get pissed at me too if I showed you my tattoo garden?" His violet eyes were looking very annoyed.
"We will talk about this later..." The creepy couple whispered creepily, but Canada waved it off.
So what if he had 1 Corinthians 13:4 inked vertically on the side of his left arm? Or the small sacred heart on his wrist? Or the mega branching faded warm orange-brown maple tree that starts on his left side, covers his upper thigh and some parts of his chest and back with its branches and wind-blown leaves?
"Look, the main reason why you're all angry is 'coz you want to know everything that happens in Al's life but if you haven't notice, he is extremely capable of supporting himself." He tried patting his younger twin's light golden copper hair without disturbing the huge cat resting on it.
"Alright?..." Alfred thought unsurely for a moment. "I think that you three are just suffering the effects of the heat here. I made some iced tea and I brought plenty of it." As Alfred stood up, his animals dispersed and continuously circled the legs of their master.
"Here you go." He served each their glass cheerily with a perfectly wrapped sandwich.
"Merci." "Thanks." "T-tak."
"Do you three think that my tattoos make me look like a freak?" America asked honestly with a soft smile., reassuring that he won't get hurt whatever they answer. The three shook there heads with no hesitation.
France though that the work done was exquisite, kudos to Prussia and his skilled hands. Arthur liked the design, kudos to America for making it. Denmark loved the way it made him look hotter...kudos to the heavens above for making such a beautiful man.
"Good, that's all I wanted to hear." He flashed his pearly whites and was going to take a shower when...
"Mason, we have got to get more pictures. I had an id-" Debora was silenced by the sight of the other men.
"I guess beautiful attracts beautiful...would you four like to pose as well?" The question was immediately turned down, though Francis had some thoughts to say yes.
"Oh well..." She refocused on Alfred. "There's an organization willing to pay big money if we can give them an ad campaign that'll help 1,000 dogs and 3,000 cats find a home. You have pets right and they're all rescues?" She asked.
"Well, yeah...but why do you still need me in it?" The nation asked, confused.
"We have to get the lonely old women and sexually frustrated middle-aged corporate business women to buy." The American was dragged away, his pets following close behind.
"Like you?" Alfred smiled, teasing the unnatural redhead.
"I shall pretend to not have heard that." It sounded like the nation and the woman were already fast friends.
"Fine, fine, but this is the last one, modeling is not for me." America smiled at her and then to the other nations.
"As if you can stay away from my camera..." She snorted.
"Let's see..."
He looked back and stared at his fellow nations, however he was more focused on the enticing set of clear blue eyes that was placed higher than the others. "S-see you guys later."
The two left a topless Frenchie, a pantsless Brit, a clean Canadian and a sweating Dane. They couldn't explain it but they had this stupid urge to just stare at each other. It was a confusing feeling of indifference.
~*AWKWARD MOMENT WITH IN-LAWS*~
"I better get going, I still have some papers that need to be signed." Canada exited.
"Us too, we still have some things to talk about...like not siding with me...right, mon Cher..." France glared deviously at his lover as they went on their way.
Denmark was left all alone since he didn't really have anything planned today. He lounged around, sipping on his drink and munching on his sandwich. He wanted to draw his 'muse' once more but...he didn't feel like it at the moment.
He did started to smell a bit, not being used to this sort of heat and was now sweating all over. Since no one was around, he could probably take his shirt off and dry it off.
He did so without messing up his glasses and cap. The neon blue waistband contrasted the dark grey fabric of the main undergarment and his red jeans. His huge cut body would've been loved by the camera if he wasn't so self-conscious of his scars.
His bare skin was glad to be grazed by the cooler air. He swatted his back with his shirt, wiping the sweat off the branching tribal tattoo stretching from shoulder to shoulder that he got it done a few months ago. He wiped his pits and then went down his fuzzy torso. By habit, he smelled the sweaty shirt and was slightly proud that it wasn't as worse as it was before.
Looking around with the grey cloth over his shoulder, he couldn't find anything that could keep him from sleeping. He got one of the chairs and sat on it with a lack of his well-known exuberance.
'So...sweet Al can take care of himself, huh?' He thought with one hand resting on top of his head and one under his stubby chin.
It was fine with him, but he was hoping that America wasn't one of those types who'll make a big fuss when you wanted to do something for them or hug the, something about cutting their independence. It would suck, especially since Denmark was kinda the type to like doing stuff for others and cuddle.
Matthias shook his head violently, they weren't even fucking dating.
Even if they were glued to the hips, he never once saw Alfred look at him or treat him like someone more than a friend. To state facts, he was well aware (due to Hungary) that the sweet American was nailing his own twin senseless. So that means, Canada's more sexually stimulating to America than him.
But...it felt nice when America smiled at him like nothing mattered, the feeling like he was free of judgement. The fact that the younger man hugged him when he felt unease and the fact that Alfred knew when he was uneasy was why he couldn't stop hoping that one day the feelings he had pooling all over his body would be returned.
"Hey Den..." America's lovely voice was cut by a sounded groan from the nation himself. He caught himself with the post on his side. His hand massaged his aching eyes.
"Are ya okay?" Denmark immediately ran up to the naked America, hands immediately making way to the taut shoulders.
"I'm fine, it's just a bit of the heat that's all...hehehe..." America forced a smile but it didn't feel right for the other.
"C'mere." Matthias swung the arm over his shoulder, helping him to sit down.
"Now...are ya sure that ya feel fine? It might be a heat stroke ya know? Here, have my sandwich." He handed his sandwich that was already half-eaten.
"No way dude, I made that for you..." America smiled reassuringly. He put more effort on his sandwich than the other three.
"And it is an awesome sandwich...but you need it more and I am not taking no for an answer." Denmark grinned, making choo-choo sounds and playing the sandwich near America's mouth.
"Fine." America chewed on it, secretly liking that he was biting on the part where the Dane had eaten. Giggly feeling were starting to erupt when he held his hand. Then he noticed that Denmark was shirtless.
'Oh shit...' His eyes trailed all over the fucking body like it was the first time he saw it. Would Debora be willing to take some pics of the Viking and send it to him...for stuff?
"Want me to give ya a massage?" Fuck, Matthias sounded so innocent with his arms crossed but why did it sound so sexy? "Ya know...to ease ya up." Then his lips curled into a fairly smug smile.
America looked down on his spastic legs, his face heating up, ears getting flooded by the sound of his pulsating blood vessels, fingers courting, and sweat running down the reddened body.
'What the hell do I do now?' America's usually sharp brain started to jam with rust forming on its gears in mere seconds.
"S-sure...d...Denmar...Matthi..t-tei-tei...DUDE! I MEAN, DUDE!" Al sat up rigidly, his back arching back like a stiff wooden board strained with a huge amount of force. This was definitely going to backfire on him, he could just feel the Dane laugh his fucking ass off.
"Som du ønsker." The Dane surprisingly answered in a polite tone. Well, he was always polite but he didn't expect him to be polite now.
Seeing his friend's form, Matthias chuckled softly and good-naturedly. "Everything'll be just fine. I promise not to hurt ya!" he rubbed the broad traps reassuringly before letting go.
He made sure that the younger nation didn't know shit of what was going to happen.
He brought his arms up a bit, in line with the sitting American's chest. His eyes shined electric blue and pupils turned into slits. The soft cracking sounds of ice went thankfully unheard by Al. His hands started to get frosted over in small crystals of hard white snow, the palms were left uncovered to some extent and had a blue tinge to the still living flesh. The said skin started to fog over with wispy patterns reminiscent to a thick sheet of cracking ice over a lake.
'...I think that this'll be too cold for ya..' He thought to himself, adjusting his iced hands into a more comfortable temperature. Frost melted and his skin started to return to its original color, but an ice crack pattern still hang around his palm and on the back of his hand.
"Um...i-is everything alright?" America asked nervously, scared of this sort of intimate friendship.
"Ja. 'Just getting some blood running." Denmark answered reassuringly, it was partially true though.
The cool hands made contact to the warm skin, making Al arch even more due to his feline flexibility. Another sharp intake of breath followed.
"Is everything okay?" The hot breath contrasted the Dane's unexpectedly cold hands.
"Y-yup...everything's f-fine. How a-are you?" The American tried his best to look back but couldn't due to his position.
A hum of affirmation escaped Denmark's mouth. "Just relax...I'm really good at this..."
"Yer good at everything..." America's voice sounded dreamy and spaced out. He shrugged his shoulders, urging the other man to begin already.
"Not everything." The other smiled as he started to knead the shoulders, somehow knowing how much pressure he needed to put.
A close-mouthed moan answered all Denmark's worries as America lolled his head back, resting it just above the freaking flat chiseled abs.
"I can't go down if ya have your head there, America..." The cerulean blue eyes looked up at the colder and lighter blue eyes of the handsome European.
America wordlessly corrected his posture, though he felt his nervousness evaporate instead of concentrate. Then the strong hands went down, kneading deeper on the grove of his back. The cool feeling was somehow enjoyable to the American who was breathing deeply and evenly.
"Thanks." The younger nation felt very nostalgic at the moment.
"For what?" The Dane asked as he went lower.
"You know, for everything you did for me. Like the time you talked me out of doing some crappy things and the time you patched me up after World War I...and y-you know...you made me soup and took down notes for me during the depression...then 9/11...you remind me that...you know, I'm still a person. I know...that nothing really happens between us diplomatically but I'm happy that yer my best friend. I-I...um sorry if this is all out of the bl-" He groaned a bit when he felt the small of his back get cracked by two hands slightly twisting his form.
"I did what any normal person would do." Denmark's hands fixed his posture and went down the toned arms, rubbing up and down. Underneath his seemingly indifferent expression was a very huge smile and ALMOST watery eyes.
He actually forgot all those things for a moment. He was so happy that things started happening to his body. The skin of his bare body started to glaze and fog like his hands moments ago. 'Fake' ice cracks ran down the side of his neck and body and on his heart, all waxing and waning with every pulse of his blood which was very quick at the moment.
"O-oh...I'm sorry." America tensed a bit, feeling a little embarrassed and heart broken.
Denmark seemed to pick up on this, though he couldn't determine the extent. "But...I like helping ya more...and I'll always be there for ya. I will always help ya in anyway possible and stick with ya through anything." The hands were now at the waistband, gripping tightly on the hard obliques. He was unable to control himself. He only hoped that America wasn't hurt or anything.
"Oh God...you have really good hands." Alfred definitely felt that the firm grip was rather stimulating. He leaned on his best friend, like so many times before...melting altogether.
His sapphires looked up again and this time he wasn't going to move. He liked the feeling. The small hairs of Matthias' chest met his golden American's broad back was stuck with the Danish washboard behind him. Their scars touching each other and hearts beating unevenly and out of synch.
Muscular arms snaked under Al's arms wrapping around the toned chest. From time to time, it went down the toned six packs and slight eight pack. The tanner nation flinched and his back pressed on the fairer eight packs. Energized blues looked away in a huge blush.
'What now?' The Dane asked himself. His bulging eyes focused on the young man underneath when he heard a tired yawn.
"Wanna go somewhere?" Al asked.
"Sure, where do ya want, min ven?" Denmark continuously shifted in his position the best he could.
"Why don't we find the nearest TGI Friday's here?" The nation turned model looked really...really tired.
"Ya look a little clammy." Matthias suddenly felt deep concern but who wouldn't?
"Sorry...I've been up all night playing WOWC." America giggled.
"Told ya to sleep early for this...this is what ya get for abusing the importance of sleep." Denmark started talking like an older sibling or a parent, something he was prone to.
"Can't disappoint my fans." America joked around, cozying up more.
Denmark snorted. "Fans?" He tried thinking of a joke, hoisting the other nation above the chair a bit.
America's arms stuck out limply and head ducked like a cat. The younger man didn't mind though, it's a reflex of his to go limp with people he was close to. Very feline in deed. The older nation started to sway from side to side, not fully realizing that the American was at the mercy of his whim.
The action was really relaxing to America though. His head was just below the awesome chest and then he could feel the eight packs contract and relax, kinda ticklish actually.
"...like ears...gettin'rub..." America unknowingly muttered his weak point before the Dane could add anything to his retort.
'Oh really?' Denmark's eyes lit up and made one hand slide back and go behind the younger one's left ear. Without hesitation, he started rubbing the back of the ear. America purred loudly, feeling himself going deeper into a trance-like state.
"There." He moaned out. Strangely, it sounded chaste and not at all that sexual. Kidding, it was very sultry to the Dane's ears. There seemed to be a soft light coming from the American, actually warming the Dane's frosted skin. A strong breeze came from outside as the sky became cloudy.
"Want more?" He asked, effortlessly sexual as well.
"Ja..." Al answered, but not even after a few seconds, he was already out like a light.
"So much for TGI Friday's..." Matthias laughed as he held the limp rag doll of a nation. He literally picked him up and the younger man almost folded.
"T...G...I...Fr..." Alfred muttered in his sleep in between soft snores and odd purrs. Honestly, who purrs? Well, besides the cute American.
Just then, he realized that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere until Al woke up and he was desperately bored, like bored to death. He could probably take this time to photograph and draw the sleeping young man or do something even more sexy...like take advantage of him...or maybe peep on some stuff.
The man was starting to feel even hotter. His hand was traveling down the awesome abs of his best friend, all five fingers were extended out as the full basket came nearer.
"...it'll...all...b'fine..." America talked softly in his sleep. His head, turning to the side, rested on the cannonball bicep that was right there.
"Hey...d-den-du..." He snored and purred, smiling warmly.
"J-Ja...?" He asked before realizing how silly it was to respond to a sleeping person.
"Yer...ma'best...frue...nd..." The slurred comment sounded very genuine and it was too much for the Dane's big heart. He looked down the carpet on the tent's floor. With a very guilty face, he lay the other down gently before sitting down Indian style, just looking at the young man at his side.
He couldn't believe that he ALMOST did that to him. Sure, America's not a virgin, he wasn't either. Denmark's very Very VERY good with this sort of stuff...even if he did it, he won't get caught and if he did...he was like 95% sure he won't get any complains.
Should he?
His mind was starting to get crammed again with thoughts like Alfred underneath him, clinging to him for dear life, high-pitched moans escaping the soft lips of the younger nation, his legs wrapped tightly on his strong waist...tears around his eyes...and he'd be there...whispering comforting nonsense...caressing his cheeks...eating those whimpers with his own lips...arms around him...to give him warmth...show him how much he loves him...
'CAN YA JUST PLEASE STOP!' Denmark was now pounding his head with his clenched hands. His annoyed eyes traveled back forth Alfred's face and briefs.
He shouldn't do it. He loved him too much.
"You're my best friend too..." He smiled sadly, stroking the soft set of hair. The rough hand made its way to the soft cheeks and then due to impulse, he dived to kiss the other's forehead.
"For HVELDE..." He cursed in a scream. He covered his mouth and wanted to punch himself.
"What the Hell happened?" The surprised American woke up and sat up in an instant, crouching.
"N-nothing, ya just fell asleep." Matthias smiled apologetically.
"Oh...sorry...my forehead feels strange though..." Alfred rubbed the said part of his head.
"It's just swe-sweat..." Mat followed with a very long nervous, awkward laugh. "Man, it's so fucking hot." He continued to look around, fanning himself with his discarded shirt and swiping it all over his body. By the time he looked back, America was already standing.
"I've got an extra shirt you know. I'm pretty sure that it'll fit you perfectly." He smiled as he got his towel and some soap he brought along.
"And I do have an extra towel...so...do you wanna shower?" America's statement was sorta common by now, Denmark has borrowed some shirts from him and took a lot of showers in his rooms...and the other way around.
"I'm good, let's see how long you'll last with my stink!" The man smiled smugly, raising his arms up as if trying to sting the air with his scent, though the other looked on rather confused.
"You actually smell a lot better than Mattie, Francis, or Arthur... I'm not saying that yer frilly, poofy, pink cotton candy stuff but...you know...a clean musky manly thing or something...not disgustingly pungent...(but still strong)" Alfred wasn't really thinking of something other than the commenting on the smell he has picked up from him recently. It WAS sexy but not really the main focus at the moment.
"I think you smell nice too..." Denmark replied.
They stared at each other momentarily before laughing, bending and almost rolling on the floor.
"Did we seriously just say that?" America tried to stand up, wiping tears of hysteria before searching the top of the vanity table for his glasses.
"It seems so, min ven...it seems so..." The Dane was still laughing his ass off, on the floor, rolling.
"Still up for TGIF's?" Denmark asked in an unassisted sit-up position. From the angle America was looking at...Let's just say...someone just 'woke' up.
"Okay, okay...lemme freshen up and then we can eat the shit out of TGIF's." Al stood up, extending his hand to his bromantic best friend.
"Ja. Ja. But you're gonna pay right?" Mat wiped a tear under his eye.
"Of course. You paid last time." America then headed off to the shower trailer outside. "Thanks for the massage, it was really REALLY awesome." He winked.
"No problem, I'm happy that you're happy." Denmark grinned before the other disappeared from his sight. He was left shirtless and standing, pondering whether or not he should really cloth himself. It felt nice...plus, he wanted to see if he could get America to at least blush at his rockin' bod.
Both nations continued to ponder, going with the flow of what random ideas plagued them.
It was weird how physically intimate they were moments ago...
The same thought plagued their minds. However, it was a good kind of weird until everything registered fully in their minds.
America was now in one of the shower stalls while Denmark was waiting in the tent. They both muttered a long string of curses as they became frantic and flustered.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID WE JUST DO?" They both shouted their loudest. The sound echoing throughout the great Grand Canyon.