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“Hey, Brit! You hungry? I could order us some food.”
“No, thank you. I’d rather not clog my arteries tonight.”
America shrugged, and pulled out his phone to find the delivery app. “Suit yourself.” he mumbled, “I’m starving.”
As he looked through the selections available to them within the radius of his home, he peeped over at England, who sat on the couch reading a book quietly, and smiled to himself. He knew what that pompous asshole was doing. He was trying to play hard to get, like he always did. It was funny to him.
He watched him turn the pages of the book carefully, with gentle fingers, his deep jade eyes peering over every word and scrolling through each paragraph with relaxed eyebrows, and soft, closed lips.
The oversized blue and red striped shirt he wore had been stolen from America’s closet, and he wore comfy black socks as his legs remained curled snug on the cushion of the sofa.
America thought he looked so cute in his clothes, and since he was bigger than him, they fit baggy on the other man.
“Why are you staring at me??”
America’s eyes widened when he realized England was looking directly at him.
He tore his eyes away sheepishly and chuckled lightly, “Well…you look cute in my shirt. I just…thought you looked nice. What’s the harm in just looking??”
Warmth pooled into England’s cheeks as he blushed silently, lifting his book up and trying to go back to reading.
The bespectacled nation glanced back over now, and he noticed that the shift in England’s position on the sofa exposed his thighs, showing a hint of the red boxers he wore under the shirt.
Gods, to be able to touch his thighs and feel the warmth of his flesh under his fingertips, dig his nails into the part of his legs where he could feel his muscles tense up while fucking the daylights out of him. He thought back now to how he’s held his ankles and really plowed into him. England always tried so hard to hold back his voice and his dirty talk, but there’s always a point where he loses himself and can’t restrain it anymore. The moment he lets it all out for America is one of the most rewarding during their time of intimacy.
As he finished up his order, he paused before paying, and asked, “You sureee you don’t want anything, Artie?? Maybe I could get you something small to eat? Everything isn’t swimming in grease you know…”
“Mm…no, I’m good.”
America paused when he noticed that there was a slight drag in his response, and his voice sounded light.
He observed how England’s face relaxed slightly, his attention no longer locked onto what he was reading, as he stared down at the floor.
America’s eyes widened with curiosity, and gasped, “Iggy…are you okay??”
England looked back, eyes half lidded, and he answered in a quiet voice, “I’m…I’m okay.”
America recognized his behavior all too well.
This was something about that grumpy little Englishman that he often made fun of him for. He was always quick to fall asleep first, and although it made America giggle at the sight of him fighting sleep, he was always left alone with not much to do at night when the older man slept so much earlier than he himself.
There have been times he would visit where America has just watched him sleep while waiting for his own body to give in to exhaustion. Things were peaceful in those moments.
England would be a lot more tolerable and maybe even cuter if he were always as quiet and calm as he is when he’s sleeping.
The larger nation stood to his feet and folded his arms as he teased, “Are you seriously about to fall asleep? It’s not even that late in the night!”
England scowled, blinking a bit before he snapped, “I said I’m okay. I just…had a long day.”
America slid close to the other man, and the hand he rested against the couch cushion was just inches away from England’s knee, as he snickered, “How ‘bout I tickle ya? You want me to tickle ya??”
“ Hell no,” England griped, drawing his legs inwards, holding his closed book to his chest, “Don’t you dare. Stay over there.”
America’s gaze softened as he craned close enough for his chest to rest against England’s waist, and he whispered, “Sorry, Art. I promise I won’t.”
The warmth of his bare legs seeped into America’s black shirt, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart jump with excitement from their bodies being in close contact with one another.
America leaned forward, placing a hand on England’s knee, and uttered, “If you’re really that tired, we can go to bed. I won’t even eat.”
The older nation raised a thick brow as he questioned in a hoarse, condescending little laugh, “You? Not eating? That’s a first…..”
He was going to let that one slide. England’s quips didn’t normally bother him, and he always took it as a challenge to just become more unbearable. The man was irresistible when he was angry.
“Artie,” he cooed, his warm palm resting against a flushed kneecap before letting his hand migrate upwards, “You’re pretty cute when you’re sleepy.”
England’s eyelids rebounded from being shut to opening wide, but only for a moment, as his lips parted and his eyes became low again. “You…think I’m cute….?”
America tucked his fingers under England’s bent knee, his thumb pressed into a tender thigh, and with one little movement, his legs were parted. “Duh~!” He laughed sweetly.
He took this opportunity to fill in the gap between them by shuffling just inches from England’s crotch.
Goodness. He had chosen quite the tempered spot to sit. It made him feel fuzzy, like he could melt. Watching the man’s face switch up made his heart falter slightly.
Now that he was right where he wanted to be, he watched the man in front of him stare back with an absentminded murmur, “What’re you doing…?”
“Just getting comfy,” America spoke in a gentle tone, his hands resting against England’s hips, “I like sitting here. Your body’s warm…”
They were inches from one another, with America staring into his eyes eagerly, and England barely making eye contact, fighting to keep his eyes open.
America leaned in closer, his lips slightly puckered as he prepared for a kiss….
Only to be nudged away by another hand colliding with his cheek.
England, seemingly wide awake now, scowled at America and chastised, “You really think I’m sleepy enough to just let you kiss me like that??”
The larger nation tumbled backwards as he was pushed, his head bouncing against the hardwood floor and his body slamming into the surface with a thud.
As he sat up, groaning from the pain of being flung off the couch (surprisingly hard too, considering he was stronger than England), the Englishman looked down at him with a burning flush across his cheeks, and a contradicting frown, as he mumbled, “You could’ve just asked me for a kiss, idiot.”
He stood now, and while walking away from America, who still sat on the floor confused, he grunted, “Pervert. I’m going to sleep.”
America watched him wantonly, and noticed England stopped walking and peered back behind himself to whisper, “ Wake me when you’re ready to ask politely.”
His eyes were slit at the man on the floor, but a smile dared to curl at the corner of his lips.
He made his way to the bedroom, and slammed the door shut.
America sulked now. He frowned, staring down at the floor, pain still bouncing off in the back of his head.
Damn…maybe he hadn’t been smooth enough.
But the way he had just made that last comment…America was going to assume he was insinuating that he could try again..
Now he stood with wobbly legs, standing in the empty livingroom.
He smiled to himself replaying that priceless, sneaky little grin he caught from England.
So he was playing hard to get…like he always does.
It was sexy. He liked when England played like that. It gave America a challenge. As long as there was consent, this game of hard to get would always be fun.
He walked down the hallway to the bedroom, wondering just how far this would go this time.
****************
Upon entering, America’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Through the pattern of light showing from the moon outside the window, he noticed a figure laying in the bed already. He was going to assume that it was England.
Slowly and quietly, America pushed the door closed, twisting the knob as he did so, to avoid the click of it shutting being loud. Once the door was closed, he let go of the knob, and it shifted quietly.
His eyes peered over to the back of England’s head, as he rested peacefully.
He hoped he wasn’t already asleep. Waking him up for sex was always hit or miss. He’s found out that the easiest way to do it is by sucking on his nipples or giving him a bit of a handjob, but he always felt bad about doing that, because at any time the other man could get irate and tell him to stop. He never liked upsetting him in that way.
This time, he figured maybe he should do it gently.
America slid out of his pajama pants, letting them remain in a heap on the floor, then shimmied out of the black shirt he originally had on, before climbing into the bed, and under the blankets. His arms searched for the warmth of England’s body, and once his hands brushed against his shoulders, he hugged him close by his waist, and sat still for a moment to enjoy his torso pressing into the smaller frame of England’s back. He noticed the man was still wearing his shirt, and he could feel soft thighs against his own larger pair.
He smelled good. It was a natural scent, accompanied by the subtle floral aroma of the deodorant he normally wore. His hair smelled faintly of a woody scent, what he regularly used to wash and condition could easily be recognized.
His breathing was gentle, lungs slowly expanding and expelling, and by the warmth America felt as his fingers rested between his ribcage and his abdomen, due to the position in which he embraced him, he could already tell England’s core temperature had become nice and toasty due to him being fast asleep.
America nuzzled his lips against England’s nape, breathing in more of his scent. As he did so, his hand glided from his rib cage and up to his chest, lifting his shirt just above his sensitive buds.
The draft from his chest being exposed caused England to let out a quiet, light groan, but didn’t really budge.
America didn’t want to do this if he couldn’t get him to wake up. First, it honestly felt wrong to try and fuck him while he slept. Second, as adorable as he was when he’s half asleep, the man’s coordination was terrible and last time they both ended up falling out of the bed. He wasn’t even sure how the hell things led to that.
“Artie,” he whispered delicately, his mouth lingering close to England’s ear, “Wake up, dude.”
The smaller man’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes half lidded, and face warm with a slight blush to it, as he muttered, “Mm…America…”
His voice trailed off while his hands blindly patted around, then when they finally found their place wrapped around each of America’s wrists, he once again fell silent.
America allowed England to guide one of his arms downwards, against his abdomen and just at the beginning of his trail of trimmed pubic hair. His other hand still remained against England’s chest, right below one of his nipples.
“Hokay…you can continue.” England finally said, speech slurred drowsily, “Just…be bloody careful.”
America slid his lower body closer, and gasped at the feeling of his clothed privates pressing into bare ass cheeks.
“Arthur, did you take your underwear off??” He asked genuinely, a wave of heat surging through his chest, down his stomach, and directly to the center of his core as blood rushed to the exact organ that gradually grew to life.
“Mhm.” England answered quietly, “Easy access.”
America smirked, and with the hand on the other nation’s chest, his fingertips grazed a delicate bud, and he rolled it between his knuckles, speaking deeply within England’s ear, “You want it more than you’re letting on…it’s sexy.”
“Mm…no…” England uttered with barely opened lips, “I…I’m not... mm.”
His speech melted into a thin, sensual moan as he felt his duct get rubbed on and pinched, and America’s hot tongue brushed along the back of his ear.
Oh, his moans sounded good. He sounded a lot more vulnerable when sleepy. He wasn’t holding back. It sent a tingle through America’s lower body that left heat behind. He could feel himself growing hard just from his voice.
His other hand traveled from right where England’s happy trail began, and after feeling his fingers scrape past the thin patch of hair, he lowered his eyes at his palm finally coming in contact with a warm, hard cock. Shortly after he started fisting the length of it, he was rewarded with another weak, slurred whimper.
“You sound so hot right now.” America sighed, rolling his hips into England’s backside as he continued with pleasuring him, craving his hole and to feel it wrapped around his own length. He felt a bloom of desire rising within himself, and then he gasped at England suddenly pressing his ass into a growing erection.
“You’re harddd~” England sang lazily, “Take your trousers off already…”
He met America’s gaze by turning to him slowly as he rotated his shoulders, eyes barely open, a sneaky smile across his lips.
Shit. He was unbelievably cute when he got like that. America wondered how hard he was fighting to stay awake for this. He had to make sure this would be rewarding for him because of that.
England had reached back now, hooking his fingers into America’s boxers, and sliding them down with a quick jerk of his wrists.
He turned the rest of his body over now, shrugging out of the blanket to uncover them both, nudging America off of him, and unsteadily wrapped his arms around the larger waist of the two, his hand caressing the sculpted, rock hard chest he melded himself against. After taking a moment to admire America and his cherished build, and aimlessly meeting glossed, azure eyes of arousal with a hazy half aware gaze of his own , he finished sliding the underwear off of the other man’s legs and positioned himself in front of an eager, leaking dick. He watched it twitch with anticipation, a bead of precum bubbling at the tip.
“You’re a grower…” he whispered before leaning forward to kiss the opening of his head, then pulling away with a string of precum connecting them. “It kisses back…so sweet.”
America’s breath left his lungs heavily, at the sheer warmth from England’s lips pressing into the tip of his cock, closing his eyes tightly.
The wet, hot goodness of his mouth finally welcomed an aching cock, and it wrenched a low groan from America as England had begun slowly suckling on the length of what could fit in his mouth, wrapping a hand around the base of it and tucking his lips over his teeth to avoid hurting him.
His voice teetered out fervently while taking him to the back of his throat, rubbing his taint between careful fingers in the palm of his free hand.
“Fuck…” America hissed, his fingers digging into the scalp of England’s hair, and laying his head against the pillow.
In the darkness, where only the moonlight partially illuminated the room, America opened his eyes slightly to peer down at England’s bare ass in the air from an arched back, watching his head rise and sink while also feeling that wet sleeve of heat devour him. He just wished he could pick up his pace a little, but in the back of his head he was reminded that the other man was half asleep.
England released America from his lips as he slid off of it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he hummed deeply from giving such a brief blow job. It was clear his stamina wasn’t the best right now.
“Sorry.” He mumbled, staring up at America in a daze, “I..I’m quite tired. You’ll have to do the rest.”
America wasn’t surprised. While he very much appreciated his part in everything, he was already wanting to just go ahead and lead them through the rest of the night. He didn’t mind. He liked being in control, and it would be nice to see if England would fight to stay classy like he sometimes would.
With a smile, the bespectacled nation reached over and brushed away a small trail of saliva from England’s chin, whispering, “You did good, babe. Now come closer so I can prep you.”
The older man complied, closing his eyes for a moment and blinking them back open before crawling up to America, lining his shoulders up against his bigger chest, and leaning in to press their lips together, inviting him to taste what had been on his tongue.
Their kisses were gentle and slow with passion. Each time their lips parted, upon reconnecting England released a gasp as their chests rubbed together. The stimulation of his nipples rolling against America’s skin pulled noises from him that he couldn’t ever easily let go of when wide awake.
“God,” America breathed between their kisses, “I love hearing you moan for me. I wanna hear you like this every time, okay??”
England pulled away for a moment with a deeply flushed face as his eyes glistened, and he uttered with a drag in his voice, “Are you…are you sure? I…I just feel like I sound ugly…”
America placed his hands against England’s cheeks and lifted his face so that they were both at eye level for each other, and he spoke to him with sincerity as he reassured him, “You don’t sound ugly, Arthur. Your voice is the best thing about you when we have sex. I love hearing you cum. I love when you tell me how good it feels…I promise, you’re okay.”
The Englishman blinked, and smiled at him as he leaned in to kiss him once more, pressing his hands into his back to pull him closer.
As they continued locking lips, America carefully laid England onto his back against the mattress, and he didn’t dare part from him while lowering himself on top of him and keeping his face cupped into his hands.
He didn’t realize how insecure the man must have been, and that all this time that could have been the reason why he always tried so hard to resist, or play hard to get.
Perhaps he wasn’t actually “playing” anything. He could very well have just been fighting through his insecurities.
He couldn’t get this kind of vulnerability out of him on a regular day, even if he had been drunk.
It was enlightening, and it made America feel like he was learning more about him.
“Mmm…America…don’t just sit there.”
America snapped out of his thoughts as he felt England roll his hips and rub their cocks together, and he looked down to see the needy man under him stare back with his eyes slit open, lips pursed as he fought to contain himself and squirm where he laid.
“Sorry baby,” America cooed, reaching into the nightstand drawer next to them, “It’s in here, right?”
England nodded. “Mhm. Be a dear and lube me up good.”
“You sound so old when you talk like that,” America teased with a small laugh, “I haven’t heard you say that in ages .”
After receiving a cute little frown from England, America sat up for a moment to squeeze drops of lubricant on his fingers, rubbing them together to make sure each one was equally prepped.
As he did so, England had already parted his legs so that the larger man had full access to his entrance.
America eased a hand downwards, gingerly touching his hole and slowly pressing into it.
As his finger gradually eased into his heat, he listened to England release a soft whine through pursed lips from being prodded so carefully, and he held himself still by gripping the bed sheets and anticipating the next move.
Christ, seeing him like this filled America with an infatuation for more than just his body. He knew the man was sleepy, and wasn’t sure how much more he’d endure before actually falling asleep on him, but it was really admirable the way he was keeping himself awake for their intimacy to take place.
He noticed that they had both forgotten to disrobe the only piece of clothing England still had on, which was the oversized shirt from before. He almost didn’t want to do that now, though.
“Arthur…” America muttered, before feeling his finger sink into his canal and hearing hushed moans, “You look really good in this shirt…I like that you’re smaller than me.”
England raised his brow at him while looking down to meet his eyes, and he whispered, “I like how you look without it on.”
America smiled before sliding in a second finger, and he watched England arch his back and close his eyes from being stretched.
“I’m gonna make sure you’re comfortable, okay?” The more aware of the two advised in an endearing manner, and after receiving a short nod, he scissored his fingers against the ring of muscle, up to his third knuckle. Trembling thighs moved against his hand uncontrollably, helpless gasps escaping the man he fingered.
“You sound so good, babe…” America crooned, resting his free hand on one of England’s hips. His fingers felt snug inside the entrance he teased and probed, his own body fighting against the temptation to just ram himself in and dig into him.
However, he wanted this to be a little gentler than what they were used to. Again, the poor man was doing his best to stay awake. It was only fair that America treated the pace with grace rather than just being rough or plowing him down.
England’s hand reached to America’s wrist, and he rested his fingers against it softly as he followed the larger man’s movement, mewling insistently, as if he were incoherently begging for the teasing to stop and for him to get to the good part.
“Ah…Alfred,” he uttered with a choke in his low voice, “Please…”
His sentence dissipated into the air now, and all he could do at this point was stare into America’s eyes with want. Any other word he attempted to form simply slipped from his lips in a tiny noise that America couldn’t decipher on his own.
Fuck, it was too much. England was too fucking adorable. He was so whiny when he wanted to be fucked, and with how he was begging for what he wanted in his own way due to his sleepy state, America couldn’t hold back anymore.
He had to make sure he would be taken care of.
“I know baby…” he murmured sweetly, slowly pulling his glossy fingers out from a now wet and puckered hole, “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”
Now that he had been properly prepared, America hovered over the man under him and positioned his hands on either sides of less broad shoulders, his palms digging into the bed, and in correspondence England parted his knees while hooking his arms around a sturdier neck, his breathing steady for now.
Lining his cock up against the hole he had carefully stretched, he urged himself into the entrance with little to no pressure at first, and the moment that heat came in contact with his own, he shivered from it.
England had relaxed himself as best as he could, and when he felt that he was being pressed into, his eyes sharpened from the pain, but eventually shimmered with pleasure the further inside America slid. His voice hitched against his throat, mouth sealed shut, and a very pleading moan escaped his lungs. His walls took in the throbbing warmth smoothly.
As America eased himself in, he whispered to England, “You’re doing good…keep breathing, baby.”
After America fit snug inside, he grabbed onto trembling thighs and tucked flushed knees under his arms, before thrusting into him. He was careful with how he shifted his hips against England’s, and was rewarded for his slow, sensual movements with a soft, broken whimper.
“Ah~…. Alfred ,” England gasped, “Alfred… yes~”
America couldn’t control his voice. He didn’t hold back the hiss that passed clenched teeth while he moved against the man under him, who had begun meeting his body with his own hips swaying along the currents of thrusts. Their crotches met with one another wetly and silky.
“ Arthur,” America moaned into his ear as their bodies conjoined to a rhythm, “Y-you’re perfect, Arthur…there’s…n-nothing wrong with you.”
England looked back at America with his eyes barely open, as his body glistened in the moonlight with sweat from their time of intimacy, and his mouth hovered close to the man on top, as he timidly responded, “Y….you don’t mean that.”
“I do .” America reassured him through short breaths, leaning down to brush kisses on his chin, his eyebrows, his nose, his cheekbones, all the parts of his face that he adored so much. He finally paused when kissing him on his lips, the one thing he savored the most during his path of affection, and pulled away to add, “Don’t ever fucking think otherwise.”
Now that England’s insides were adjusting to America’s cock rubbing against his canal, their thrusts intensified, and England’s legs curled up, his hands migrating into America’s scalp.
“Alfred,” he managed to titter between thrusts, “I…I’m sorry f-for being so difficult.”
America’s gaze into England’s eyes softened. He laid a comforting kiss against his forehead, tasting the salt from beads of sweat against his mouth, and hummed out another deep moan. He indulged in the feeling of England taking every inch as he continuously burrowed into him, before he sighed, “J-just stop being so stubborn. T…tell me what you need,”
Once his words left him, he revisited those warm, soft lips, and the older nation’s voice vibrated against his teeth as he groaned into his mouth, his hands sliding from America’s scalp and now resting against his feverish cheeks. Their lips parted briefly, as England stared into America’s eyes intensely, suddenly the most aware and awake he had been the entire time, as he whispered to him, “I’ll always trust you with my body.”
America’s heart could have soared from that compliment. That was all he wanted, for England to trust him.
He looked down with affection that bloomed from their close contact, words of endearment, and the connection of their bodies within and around each other. With a small grunt, he continued to thrust into the man under him, who moaned out his human name from within his gut, with a voice of true passion. Quickening their pace to match their growing and increasingly impactful feelings for each other in that moment, America spoke to England, directly into his ear, while hovering over him as their figures swayed together against the mattress, “You take it so fucking good. Shit , I want you so bad.”
“Ah~! Y-you can have me, Alfred…all of me.” England whimpered back, wincing from their thrusts meeting and creating delicious friction, “You can have as much of me as you want~!”
America felt his muscles reaching their limit. He kept his eyes slit at England, who looked back up at him with a face clouded in adoration for his behavior tonight, and the younger nation uttered, “I’m gonna make sure you cum the way you deserve to.”
As he said this, he reached between them and stroked the length of the other man’s cock, pumping it with added pressure and with feverish fingers.
As a result, England laid his head back against the pillow under him and moaned with his eyes clenched shut, “Yes… Yes….yes, Alfred please…!!”
He couldn’t spare another word at that moment, with his own body reaching its climax. All he could do was listen to America’s breathless attempts at talking him through it, but as he too became overwhelmed by the swelling up of his muscles, his voice escaped winded lungs as a desperate groan.
“Shit,” America gasped, feeling England’s insides clamp down on him as the man under him finally orgasmed, his voice shuddered and weak whilst his entire being shook. His arms clung to the larger body that held onto him, legs hooked onto his waist and face buried in the crook of a strong neck.
“F- fuck,” England managed to finally let out, strangled and hitched shortly after leaving his throat.
America couldn’t hold back his own voice, and the warmth of freshly released cum spilling against his stomach and abdomen urged his own climax, his seed shooting into the pocket of heat he had grown deeply fond of, the man who remained attached to him managing to titter out, “Y-yes…please cum inside me… all of it..!”
With the afterglow of their shared release finally settling, their bodies relaxed, and America pulled himself out slowly, before lying against the mattress. As he laid where he was, a pair of arms slipped around his shoulders, and comforting lips brushed against his cheeks, his forehead, and along his jawline.
In his ear wisped a gentle voice:
“Thank you for being so sweet to me.”
The words of endearment that had been spoken to him faded into the back of his head, as his brain grew distant from the rest of his senses.
“America….”
“America??”
England stared down at America, the ivory moonlight from the window showing that his eyes were closed, his breathing had become slowed, and his mouth was parted. His glasses had slid off of his face, the frames sloppily sitting above his eyebrows.
Now that the Englishman was wide awake, he grabbed the glasses off of his sleeping other half, and sat them on the nightstand.
With a sigh, he stared at the man who now slept peacefully, and couldn’t help but smile, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.
His caring and delicate behavior with him tonight was admirable. It was a different side England had seen of America, and he genuinely loved it.
It was surprising though that he ended up falling asleep like that…
Oh, well.
He would just have to watch him until he himself got sleepy again.
Of course, he didn’t mind.
He would enjoy the moon shedding light on his beautifully naked body.