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Post by America on Sept 10, 2012 17:05:11 GMT -5
[[You? Fumble? Scoff. You ought to see me right about now.]]
America couldn't help but smile against England's lips upon hearing those words, his heart soaring at such a phrase. Sure, they had told each other of their love countless times before, but to hear it being said while they were showing this much affection, this much want, was something completely special, something America hadn't heard before. He had never engaged in this sort of activity. He had never loved anyone in this sort of way. And no one had ever loved him like this. No one had ever breathed out his name in a quiet declaration of love, a strong and true declaration of love.
And no one other than England ever would, he instantly decided.
"Love you, too," America whispered, his breath ghosting across England's lips. And there was nothing he could say that would express every little ounce of his love. There were no words that he could think of to show just how much England meant to him, just how much he never wanted to let him go. Instead, he closed in for another kiss, grabbing the inside of England's shirt and tugging at it slightly, wanting nothing more than to gain as much contact as possible, to melt himself in England's skin and to have it all for himself
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Post by England on Sept 10, 2012 18:31:05 GMT -5
((You're doing fiiiine, no worries. Shatap and write porn nao. Hahahaha xD))
"Haha..." England shakily chuckled, finding the confession funny, for some reason. Maybe because it was so innocent, and what they were doing was far from innocent. England loved how much contrast America's entire person was in itself, and how America contrasted with England. It was like an unknown place, an uncharted territory that England had yet to discover. And hell if he wasn't eager to discover everything America had to offer.
He didn't know what America wanted, because whatever it was that he wanted to do, England would immediately agree. It briefly crossed his mind that maybe he was being a bit too willing, and somewhat... easy? But then again, he was ready, he'd been ready a long time ago, and was now waiting for America. The way his fingers danced across his skin set his entire body on fire, and, well, that had to mean something, right? So England decided to perhaps... aid America in identifying what it was what he wanted, and pushed his hands flat against his chest, caressing him through the material of his clothes. Their proximity made movement hard, but England slowly trailed his fingers down his skin, until his abdomen, where he parted his hands to circle his waist, and run them on his back, until they were at his shoulders again. Feeling every bump, every crevice and every curve, England shuddered. To muffle the needy gasp that was threatening to tear out of his throat, he kissed America again, gasping almost inaudibly in his mouth instead.
He hadn't even seen him yet, and England was already hot at the thought of America's body.
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Post by America on Sept 10, 2012 19:36:18 GMT -5
[[Shudding up and writin porn. XD]]
America arched his body, welcoming every touch that England was giving him, and momentarily forgetting about the clothes that he wanted off of his lover's body. Now, he was getting lost in the sensation of England's skilled fingers running up and down his body, caressing him gently and making his head spin. Intoxicated. That's what he was. Completely intoxicated in all of England's love. He moaned softly as England's hands roamed around his back and stopped back up at his shoulders, shivering just slightly under the touches.
However, though he felt like he was in heaven, he wanted to make sure England was feeling the same. He wanted to make sure England was able to have every single need of his fulfilled. Wondering if he was taking this too quickly (and hoping he wasn't, hoping he was doing it alright), he broke away from their kiss to pull England's shirt off, slowly taking it off his body and giving himself a second to stare before leaning forward to connect their mouths together once more, dropping the shirt and bringing his hands back to rub them along England's skin, now free from any sort of material. Giving himself a moment to breathe, he gasped out, "Perfect." Because he was. He sure as hell was, and America couldn't get over the fact that England was allowing him to touch him in such a way. "You're perfect." He ran his fingers along England's chest now, gently kissing his lips.
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Post by England on Sept 10, 2012 20:21:03 GMT -5
England wanted to let out a choked sob at how desperate he was getting. God, America was making it slow and torturous for him, his fingers practically gliding over his skin and making it tingle wherever he was touched. And then the cold air hit his bare chest, and England's head spun for a second before America's kiss brought him back to reality again. He gasped softly, as if afraid of making noise, and briefly fumbled with his hands, not knowing where to put them because really- he wanted to be everywhere at once.
He did inhale a shuddering breath when America called him perfect, though, and he had to stop for a moment, closing his eyes. Perfect. How was that even possible? Could someone like him ever be considered even remotely perfect? So many mistakes, so many disgusting scars- England didn't consider that he was worthy of such a title. Perfect. His heart suddenly lurched at the thought of being called something he didn't deserve.
And yet, with just one word, America had taken pleasure to a whole new level.
"Don't say that, you idiot." he chuckled without much amusement in his tone before pecking him on the lips. "Perfection is thy name and nobody else's, sweet love of mine." he whispered and kissed him softly on the cheek.
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Post by America on Sept 10, 2012 20:46:50 GMT -5
America shook his head just slightly, allowing England to kiss his cheek. He snaked his arms around England's back, rubbing them up and down along the skin, unable to understand why his lover didn't want to be called perfect when he truly was. "I'll say it all I want," he mumbled, closing his eyes and bringing his head down to kiss England's neck, to run his lips along the softer skin there. He took deep breaths, knowing he'd never get that lovely image of England out of his head. It was plastered in there, plastered firmly to his mind, and America would never allow anything or anyone to tear it away from him, just as he would never allow anyone to tear England from him. "It's true. Oh, god, you're just so perfect."
He wanted more now. He had gotten a dose of such intimacy, and he wanted it to continue. He brought his mouth back up to England's kissing him romantically and not allowing the island nation to say anything against America's statement. If he knew England, he knew that he would deny ever being perfect. Not on his watch. It was time for England to feel as special as he truly was, even if it was simply for a short while. He deserved it. He deserved every good thing America had to offer.
One of his hands traveled back down, resting at the start of his pants, grabbing them to give himself a little more balance, though he felt as if feeling the material drove up his want even more so than before.
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Post by England on Sept 10, 2012 20:59:03 GMT -5
America seemed to say that with so much conviction... England didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. Besides, making him a list of all the reasons why he wasn't worthy of being called 'perfect' would be a very definite turn-off and ruin the mood. So he'd let it slide. Just this once. Humouring America was one of the things he did best, after all. Perfect was a heavy word, and England wasn't sure America understood the true weight of what it meant, especially when applied to him, especially when applied to any of the nations, survivors of wars and makers of mistakes throughout history.
Now wasn't the time to argue. He just wanted to make America feel good. America was already doing his part, grabbing the hem of his pants possessively like that, and god- England was pretty much gone already. He could feel his blood rushing through his veins, feel his entire body heating in anticipation, and something was pounding inside of him: it must've been his heart. England was going crazy.
"Please..." he finally whined, nipping at his jaw while his hands worked at the hem of his shirt, tugging on it. Unable to control himself any longer, England pulled the shirt right off of America's body, not stopping to question if he was going too fast. He took America's hands and placed them roughly on either side of his bare abdomen before practically jumping on him and biting at the junction between his shoulder and neck.
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Post by America on Sept 11, 2012 5:55:55 GMT -5
The rush of air hit America's skin and he gave a slight gasp, which turned into a shuddering moan as England began nipping at his neck and shoulder. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell England how great of a job he was doing, but his mouth seemed to be unable to form even a small word. Nothing comprehensible would come out whenever he tried, so he finally settled on those breathless gasps whenever England bit on a particularly sensitive spot on his skin. Which, if truth be told, seemed to be all over. His entire body was on fire, tingling wherever England so much as touched him.
America welcomed every new sensation. He bathed in the pleasure this was giving him, wondering why on earth he didn't think of doing this sooner. Sure, this wasn't all there was to love, but it was pretty damn good, that was for sure. And England was such a good partner to have, so loving and wonderful and absolutely flawless at this. America had to hold back his loud moans, opting instead to give a quiet whisper as he brought his hands down to tug at the front of England's pants once more.
”E-England?” he gasped out breathlessly. “C-Can I...?” And he couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't barely think properly. A blush had risen to his face, sporting his cheeks with red, and it just intensified at the thought of England in nothing but his underwear. Embarrassed, he ducked his head into England's neck, kissing and sucking and trying not to let England see just how flustered he was getting.
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Post by England on Sept 11, 2012 9:46:04 GMT -5
This certainly wasn't what he'd expected when he woke up that morning, but hell, you couldn't see England complaining one bit. Good thing it was in the morning, too. England didn't think he'd have the energy to do something like this at night, after a long day of exhausting work. Now, well-rested and wide awake, he could pay attention to every quiver of America's muscles under his fingers, hear every breath caught in his throat and enjoy every spontaneous reaction the gorgeous man he was working with his hands was having.
When America stuttered the unfinished sentence out, England had to stop for a moment to chuckle softly, genuinely amused by the question.
"Love, when you're intending to go all the way like this, you don't just stop and ask." he breathed huskily in his ear before pressing a kiss to the bright red hickey on his neck, England's pride and joy. He'd never been asked before, just assumed that he and his partner just got naked without a word, so he was amused at how adorably innocent America was being with this entire thing. And, of course, how patient and how careful he was being. A sweet gesture, but unnecessary care. There wasn't a single thing that England wasn't ready to do with, or for America.
"God, I've been waiting for this since we started. Please just get these bloody things off." His sweatpants were loose enough not to put pressure on his crotch, but that didn't change the fact that he was getting way too hot for comfort. Some part of him reminded him that America likely had minimal experience (had he even ever done this before?), and that perhaps he was going a tad bit too fast for his younger partner, so he decided to skip the show of acrobatic flexibility this one time. Pulling his legs out completely from underneath his lover's body, he got on his knees and gently guided America's hands to the hem of his pants before softly kissing the shell of his ear in encouragement.
"Whenever you're ready."
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Post by America on Sept 11, 2012 15:13:17 GMT -5
America didn't respond to England's words, mostly because he didn't exactly know how to respond. He felt a bit silly, asking for permission to continue when it was obvious what they were planning on doing, but he wasn't quite sure how it all worked out. He wasn't sure if one was supposed to ask or where he was supposed to put his hands after the pants were gone or if he was allowed to look or not. For once, he cursed his virginity. England would probably much rather have a more experienced nation doing this with him, one that wouldn't act all awkward and embarrassed and...well, virgin-like. America swallowed nervously, refusing to meet England's eyes and easily convincing himself that England didn't care how new he was to this. England seemed to actually be helping him along with everything, and America was more than grateful for that fact.
The younger country nodded, tentatively pulling the pants down from England's hips, hands brushing up against his thighs before dropping the hem of the pants and letting them fall to England's knees. Now what? His mind raced with all different sorts of possibilities he could do, all different sorts of scenarios. However, everything he thought of just seemed to be moving too fast or too slow or too rough or too gentle. Fumbling with his hands for a moment, he finally moved to rest them on either side of England's waist, running his thumbs in a circular motion and glancing back up at his lover, kissing his lips softly.
After a few more kisses, he felt bold enough to let his hands loop around England's back, just barely letting them lay on England's backside, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.
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Post by England on Sept 11, 2012 18:47:42 GMT -5
England waited patiently for America to make a move, but even his patience had limits. Yes, America was most obviously inexperienced (oh god, he really should've inquired beforehand about America's sexual, ermm... status), or at least only slightly experienced, but England was practically suffocating here. He'd never liked being teased for too long, and the fact that he was still wearing pants when he was so hard was slightly insulting. Maybe America really didn't want to do this after all.
Oh.... Oh, was England pressuring him? That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.
"Ameri-" he started, dismissing his own satisfaction with the intention of asking if he was comfortable with their train of activity, when America finally seemed to work up the nerve to take the next step and pulled his pants down. Cool air nipped at his thighs immediately, making him exhale harshly as his lover brushed his hands against his skin briefly. England's last syllable quickly turned into a moan, loud and needy. "-ca-aaah!"
Immediately realizing what he'd done, he blushed and immediately muffled his embarrassment against America's lips when he kissed him. He didn't move until America set his hands firmly on his waist, and only then did he slip his pants down his calves and off completely, lifting one knee at a time, knowing America would keep him steady. Feeling so safe in someone's arms felt intoxicating. England was so happy he'd finally found someone he could trust so much.
"'Merica-" he gasped again when his hands lightly touched his ass, kissing him softly in encouragement. "God, you're doing great, please don't stop."
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Post by America on Sept 11, 2012 19:42:50 GMT -5
England's moans of pleasure and words of encouragement gave America the resolution to continue doing whatever felt right, whatever felt as if it would make England completely satisfied. And if that meant traveling through uncharted waters, so be it. Besides, America was always one to like trying new things. This was something new, something he liked, something that sent electric shocks throughout his entire body.
He felt his jeans growing tighter with each kiss England gave to him, though he certainly wasn't going to tear his hands away to remedy his problem. Not when England's skin was so addicting, not when he was able to take it just a step further and grip England's ass gently, the material of the last article of clothing doing absolutely nothing to repress the wave of lust that hit America then. He whined into England's mouth, pulling England closer to him to allow for some sort of friction to ease the pressure gathering in the lower half of his body.
He hadn't realized how amazing that would feel.
"Sh-shit," he panted, face flushed with arousal. "En-England...more." And he didn't care that he sounded like some needy teenager at the moment (which, if he stopped and thought about it, he was, but those were unnecessary details). He wanted every single bit of England, wanted to take this all the way. His body was ready, his mind was ready, and his emotions were more than ready.
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Post by England on Sept 11, 2012 20:41:19 GMT -5
"Swell idea, love." England barely had enough self-control to grunt the cynical response out without stuttering, nodding and running his hands down his back until he reached his pants. Poor thing, those jeans must've been really uncomfortable. England couldn't wait to get rid of them. He really shouldn't have complained about his sweatpants, seeing as America was probably even hurting by now. That only added to the sense of urgency as he deftly slipped his small hands under his pants, rubbing his ass through his boxers and squeezing softly to show him how he was not the only one who wanted more.
He wondered how far America had gotten with his sexual activity before and how daring he could allow himself to be. No external kinks for their first time, of course, but how much was too much? It felt weird to wonder about limits when his previous sexual partners had shown no interest in limits (so he returned the favour and defied the concept of having limits as well), at least, not significant interest, so it dawned yet again on England that when he was with America, it suddenly felt like all his experience had gone down the drain. No, acting like a fumbling virgin wouldn't do. England had to take the first step, and he trusted America to stop him if anything came up.
"I want to take your pants off." England finally announced through his panting, pulling his hands out of America's jeans and pushing them against his chest as he looked at him square in the eyes. "Sit back so I can unbutton them."
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Post by America on Sept 11, 2012 21:00:54 GMT -5
America let out a gasp as England squeezed his ass, mind spinning in ecstasy. Yes, it was indeed a swell idea. A swell idea for England to stay in bed and a swell idea for America to try starting a search for him. The thought of being in the kitchen with just himself and coffee was a little depressing to think about right now, when England was feeling him up and when America let their mouths collide in a sloppy fashion, too muddled to do anything else.
But then England pulled his hands back, and America deplored the loss of those warm hands down his pants. He was about ready to ask England to do it again (because he was giving up all pretense of being the cool one in this relationship) when his lover suddenly stated that those constricting jeans were coming off.
And England was taking them off.
America nodded, willing to allow England to do pretty much anything at this point, too driven by passion to complain. Even if he wasn't so lustful, though, he felt as if he still would have allowed this. He did need these pants off, after all, and it certainly wasn't fair for England to feel free when America was struggling with his problem.
So he sat back, licking his lips and anticipating what was to come.
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Post by England on Sept 12, 2012 0:13:38 GMT -5
England waited for America to sit back on the sheets and then gently straightened his legs out until the were only slightly bent, enough to give America some support to hold his body up. He then slipped in between his legs and bent down, putting his hands on the bed on each side of his hips.
"Tell me if you want to stop." he mumbled half-heartedly, because really, at their point, who in their right mind WOULD enjoy being stopped? England didn't dwell on that, though, because- he wouldn't lie to himself- he was dying to get America out of those clothes.
He quickly located the top button and clamped it between his teeth, popping it right out of its socket. Then, he took the zipper with his teeth and pulled down, going lower and lower until it reached its path's end. It was there was England got his bottom lip caught between the zipper and the base, and he let out a small whine as he tasted blood. Peculiar. He didn't often make beginner mistakes like this. Perhaps he was getting rusty, since it had been a long time since he'd done that.
God, that just made him want America even more.
The latter's boxers were peeking out from the opening in the pants, the bulge obvious, even through the small space. England brought his mouth closer to the fabric, until his lips were hovering just above America's crotch. Holding his legs slightly apart at the thighs so that a reflex reaction wouldn't make him close his legs, England smirked and tried to look up at far as he could until he met America's eyes.
"And now, gorgeous..." his accent rolled huskily off his tongue as he breathed the words, conscious of the fact that every syllable caused a puff of hot air to caress the sensitive skin under the thin boxers. "Help me with this. What should I do with all this?" he rubbed America's inner thighs, still clothed by the jeans, as if prompting him to remedy to the situation. "Tell me what you want, love."
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Post by America on Sept 12, 2012 5:59:27 GMT -5
America had just been about to ask England if he was alright, seeing his lip get caught in the zipper, when he felt hot air blow on his crotch through his boxers. He gasped, throwing his head back to stare up at the bottom of the bunk above the bed. His fingers clenched at the sheets below him, gripping them tightly in his sweaty hands. He made a move to speak, opening his mouth, but all that exited was a whine.
Taking a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes, giving himself a second or two before he believed he could finally respond. "I-I-I want you, England." It was such a vague statement, but America couldn't think of any other way to word it that wouldn't make him sound similar to some horny animal. He wanted England, wanted England in whatever way there was to want someone at this moment. Besides, he was sure England would understand his lack of ability to make a proper statement.
His toes curled inward, excited with what was to come, and he opened his eyes, bringing his head back down to stare at England, urging him to continue what he was doing. It felt wonderful, every last bit of it, and the more England gave, the more America wanted.
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