I swear, these boys are like my therapy or some shit. idk. All I know is no one should be subjected to this level of sap but whatever, I've had a rough week so I guess you'll all just have to deal with the sugar rush.
It's about time I posted back in this drab set again anyway.
Enjoy! ;)
They'd gotten 'distracted'… again. It happened a lot and by this point they'd stopped trying to reign it in to any degree. A finger would trail absentmindedly up a thigh, then a finger would turn into a hand, and that hand would travel to the inside of a thigh, and then to between them, and then it was only a matter of time before they were half-naked, sweaty and curled into each other in a post-coital haze.
It was a good job Wales wasn't in. He wouldn't be best pleased to say the least.
Scotland ran a finger down England's cheek, making England open his eyes blearily, humming out a questioning note. Perhaps it was egotistical, but Scotland loved the way England's eyes went hazy after a nice good fuck. Deep and rich and half-lidded, because the guy could never keep his eyes open afterwards, not if he was warm and comfortable, and he'd stated on many an occasion such as this that Scotland's naked chest certainly counted as both warm and comfortable.
Scotland opened his mouth to say something before realising that he had nothing to say. He bit his tongue, rolled over and trapped England underneath him, pressing several soft kisses to his jaw.
England hummed, hooking his naked legs around Scotland's back as his arms snaked up around his neck, his mouth curving upwards and his eyes falling closed again. "You big lout, whatever do you think you're doing?" He asked, his voice soft and hoarse and just a little bit slurred, because even if he hadn't had enough alcohol to make him drunk, Scotland often had that effect on him anyway.
Scotland didn't respond for a long moment, taking his time in completing the line of kisses he'd begun before parting his lips from England's skin just enough to mutter out something in Gaelic which made England lay his head back and sigh.
"I do despise how you do this to me."
Another line of Gaelic, and England smiled wider, because he understood enough to know he was telling him to learn his language if he cared so much. God knows he'd heard the phrase enough.
"Ah, but I couldn't take that away from you." England replied, as Scotland returned his attention to the skin of England's neck, the stubble on his chin scratching gently along the lines of kisses. "Moreover," England continued in consideration, "I couldn't take that away from myself. Oh how I do love to pretend you're whispering sweet nothings into my ears when you do that."
More Gaelic and a smile against England's skin.
"You could be telling me that you want to rip me limb from limb, and all I'd be able to hear is how you want to kiss every inch of me."
Scotland's kisses moved further up, to England's cheeks and forehead, as another line of Gaelic was whispered into them. England felt him wrap himself tighter around Scotland, his teeth biting hard into his own lip.
"Don't you ever tell me what you're really saying."
Scotland shook his head, a deep sigh escaping right after and followed by a long sentence breathed into England's temple.
England chewed his lip harder, "I mean it, don't you dare."
Scotland didn't reply that time, he just let his lips finally curve into England's and England didn't need to understand Gaelic to understand what he meant by it.
He almost wished he didn't.
Because it was better than anything his mind could possibly think up.