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England sat tense on his weathered upholstery sofa, as he had every evening for the last few months, over half a year at least.
Some silly argument between him and France, of which he could no longer recall, had put them in a disgusting spot really. Pissing each other off to the utmost extreme. Further than anything that came before. Sneaking around with each other's boys and pretending to be blind to the other. Sometimes England felt sick.
He definitely felt sick, sitting so close yet so far from his eldest, Canada, an arm draped around the back of him in the slightest show of control. He felt even worse hearing the cooing and coddling emanating from the open plan kitchen not too far away. England thought it unbecoming how much France fussed over America.
Yet he saw how America gleefully lapped it up like a man parched of anything for the entirety of his life. A part of him wished Canada was so easy to train. But no, Canada was... well, he wasn't stubborn but he wasn't sure enough of himself to ever fit the role England was searching for.
The hushed giggles and pet names he could make out through an obvious gentle make out boiled up an envy he hadn't felt since his last war against the Spaniards. He looked at Canada, reading some novel that England had most definitely read a million times before. That simple detail made him feel ever so possessive suddenly.
England pulled Canada tighter to his side, abrupt and rough, as all their encounters were. He was forcing himself to do this out of spite, otherwise he'd leave and forget about Canada again. He let himself leer over Canada's shoulder to experience the coldness radiating from pale skin as well as to peak at his current paragraph.
Canada gasped slightly when England moved him closer, losing his place, words dissipating in his mind as if they had fallen through his fingers. He recuperated himself with ease, but his breath shook very delicately in a way he knew that England would notice.
His thumb rubbed against the creme paper. He was very aware of England loitering over him, and his movements became far more thought out of insecurity.
“U— Um,” The silence had been choking and encapsulating Canada as if it were a predatory lover. He had to interrupt it. “I’m enjoying it so far.”
It was cute that Canada thought he could keep things normal. A funny buzzing sat in his stomach like a stone, unsure if he hated or loved the relationship brewing with him and England. He liked to feel needed. But he knew that it was wrong. He knew that this scandalous thing had dislodged many parts of himself.
Canada threw them away from his mind violently but remained stoic on the outside. His breath remained quivering, anticipating England’s response. The sound of France and America in the other room made his skin crawl, titillated whispers of inauthentic love.
England hummed against his skin, an unpleasant vibration. "I'm glad, I've had that book for the better part of 300 years... It always encapsulates me no matter how many times I've read it." His voice was low... quiet, too intimate for what they were.
He guided the hand not gripping Canada to brush a gentle pattern through the scruffy, unkempt waves. Pressing his face softly into the blonde. Maple, as he expected yet never missed. England's eyes were filled with so much emotion and he was grateful Canada wouldn't see any of it.
"There's a beautiful, beautiful... passionate encounter, near enough the page you're on.." An innuendo wrapped in pretentious observation, "I think of it often, I once..on my second read through, I..." England swallowed lightly, unfortunately the stain on the page presented itself as an even clearer stain on his consciousness, "Ah... you'll see..."
Great heavens, he was a pervert. He'd been made acutely aware of this fact over the length of this provocative time. England bit his lip to suppress a wretched smirk.
“Really?” Canada hummed, his voice quiet as it always was, though the interest was clear in his enunciation. Not only that, but the tender tone of voice England took made Canada’s stomach flutter greatly, warm and passionate.
He could not help but consider how 300 years ago Canada was not even a self governing dominion.
The hand in his blonde hair only shook Canada further. Every touch England gave him was like electricity, whether Canada liked it or not. Canada found it increasingly difficult to focus on the book.
England’s next words made his stomach only flip further. Canada was looking away from the book now, nowhere in particular, unable to ignore the fact that he was becoming increasingly aroused.
“Wha— wha… Oh,” Canada chewed on the inside of his cheek. The perversion that everything England did exuded should have been disgusting, so unashamed and sly, and it was. But it still lit an unwanted desire inside of Canada he could not fight. It knocked him out cold, choked him. Canada was not really looking at the stain. “That’s… Well…”
Canada could not think properly. He was acutely aware of the fact he was becoming hard.
England chuckled darkly, gently guiding Canada's hands to take the book from him, not bothering to slip in the worn marker before setting it down on the side table.
He was now faced with Canada's unfortunately clothed body, the ill fitting and disgracefully modern clothes had never complimented the precious figure he had, England thought.
"My, must be really enjoying it..You really are my boy, aren't you?" England listened for any opposite sounds but it appeared that the two heathens had broken off, presumably for some romantic getaway that would have England gagging at the thought if he weren't so preoccupied with his own little treasure.
The hand wrapped within Canada's hair pulled strands into a fist, teasing just enough to make Canada expose his neck and fix that horrendous posture.
"You're handsome as I am too...yet with your mother's hair," A sharper tug, "Such a shame that that's the only part of him I ever really admired..." England pressed a kiss on Canada's jawline, having to bend his back slightly to do so.
Canada did not protest or even so much as fight when England slipped the book from his hands, the soft sound of it closing a cutting sound in the silent, dense atmosphere. It had become so thick and cloying.
Canada looked down at himself, always struggling to meet another’s eyes. The context of the exchange only made it worse. England’s emerald eyes were hazy with blatant lust, and it spurred Canada to rub his legs together needily in search of relief. Even when playing with his hoodie drawstrings and staring at his lap he could feel the heated, lecherous gaze boring into him.
“I… I guess I was,” Canada spoke meekly but they both knew this was untrue. The book had played no role.
When England’s hand laced into
Canada’s golden hair, longer than his little brother’s, Canada could not help but whine. A mixture of shock, pain and desire.
Canada still did not protest. He knew not why this was the case. He allowed it to happen, as if being trampled on.
England’s words and actions combined together in a salacious dance, arousing Canada enough that he could not help hold back a soft and decadent moan. Canada felt immediately ashamed but did not stop himself. When England kissed him upon his jaw, he moaned that breathy thing again, stiff as he allowed England to do as he liked.
In response to England’s comment about Canada being as handsome as him, “Thank you, y— you’re right,” Canada did not believe he himself was very attractive but he wanted to please England so this was what he said without thinking. Canada’s stomach was very hot. He could feel a tightness obviously in his pants.
Canada hated himself. But he loved this.
"You're so quiet, Matthew, you have such a lovely voice." England's own arousal throbbed in his slacks and it took a great deal of resistance not to grind his palm against it in desperation. It was the sort of desperation he didn't think Canada deserved from him. He was in charge between them, even if it was the only thing he could rule over in his current life.
He allowed his kisses to linger, spreading delicate kisses along the expanse of his son's neck, sucking arrays of purples and violets into him. "You look...God, truly, truly delicious..." The dark contrast of such a colour against his skin spurred England on further. He knew everyone would see, he *wanted* everyone to see...especially France. England could get drunk off this feeling alone
England pulled Canada up into his lap so suddenly, thighs firm from the boys interest in hockey yet still soft enough to be kneaded under the pads of England's groping hands.
He trailed touches up and down the younger nation's waist, gripping tightly at the softest spots of his hips as he leant up to attempt to push his tongue immediately past immature lips. It'd been so long since he'd felt so aroused by someone yet he would never admit that it be Canada to do such a thing to him if he were in a clearer state of mind.
Canada chewed on his lip and looked ashamed of himself, but in such a way that it was incredibly attractive. The praise from England made his heart lurch with something raw and wanting. To be praised was Canada’s favourite thing, to be handled gently like a fragile package. England scarcely gave him the latter, though.
“Th— Thank you, thank you, I— I like it when you say that to me, thing— things like that to me, eh,” Canada had slit the throat of his dignity a long time ago. The more he uttered these perverse things the less they hurt leaving his mouth.
Canada was malleable. He was all there for England to rove over and touch. As if he were an animal scruffed, he had gone limp for England.
Canada properly looked upon England for the first time when he was kissing Canada’s neck. With a mouth ajar and eyebrows downturned, tiny and pathetic sounds escaping Canada’s mouth so insignificantly they were almost inaudible. He felt a rush of love flood through him then that he did not want. The self serving need in which England displayed. Not just his actions and his manners but the way he looked. Guiltily, Canada found him desirable. Consistently unkempt hair a lighter shade than Canada’s own, the steely gaze his jade eyes kept fixedly behind them, his lips…
“Thank you. Thank you, thank you,” Canada muttered reverently.
When England moved Canada to his lap the younger man had yelped slightly, but the need was so palpable inside of Canada now. He was desperate to be relieved of his arousal. He dared not take it into his own hands. That would not only be pathetic but probably forbidden.
Canada relished in the way England touched him. He felt completely submissive.
With intermittently twitching hips Canada accepted England’s tongue with a little shock. He was painfully inexperienced, mostly due to his token “invisibility” amongst nations. Nobody had been interested in him until England. Maybe that was why these encounters meant so much to Canada, awfully.
England found himself arching up into the welcoming warmth of Canada's mouth, moaning against it as he grew careless, mind clouding over with lust in full force. He needed to claim all of Canada, it felt like he was bringing back that little boy that had freed himself from his grasps so long ago and he had missed that love ever so much.
He pulled away from Canada, panting breathlessly and leaning his chin against the boys chest to look up at him pathetically. "God...Mattie, you're so perfect, I don't understand why France would want that horrid brother of yours...You're so much easier on the eyes," England brushed his thumb against Canada's bottom lip, "So much softer, so much more obedient...well behaved, well mannered...my perfect boy." He pushed his thumb in, testing the waters slightly.
The sudden shock of warmth that spread through his hand made him groan, involuntarily grinding his erection against Canada's to gain something more than just sparks of pleasure. He mentally slapped his wrists, he must show patience if he wanted Canada to follow orders.
Thumbs became 2 fingers, softly pumping against the back of Matthew's throat and England watched, mesmerised, unconsciously licking his own lips with hunger.
"Come on now, precious.." He pushed further into Canada's throat, feeling it tighten around his skeletal digits, "There we are, good boy for daddy, brilliant work.." It was hard to tell exactly what he was praising but it just felt right to say something outloud, Canada was very deserving after all…
A string of drool connected the two momentarily, before snapping and falling upon Canada’s chin, clinging to him as if a brand for the lewd interaction. Canada’s soft, pink lips were deliciously wet. It was hard not to ravish him.
The praise and appreciation from England made Canada’s mind go fuzzy, unable to articulate any coherent thoughts. He only knew what he wanted, indecent images flashing in his mind and making his cock twitch pathetically in his pyjama pants.
“Mmgh, thank you so much,” was all Canada could say, and he hopes England knew just how closely he would cherish these compliments forever. He would think about them when he was sure he was completely unwanted, unloved and forgettable. He would think about them when he touched himself.
Again, Canada permitted the entry of England’s thumb with so little resistance it was almost whorish. Canada was so eager to please, he even dared to swirl his tongue around the intrusive digit, meekly. He thrusted against England’s obvious erection when England did the same and whimpered.
Canada could not pull his eyes away from England now, a stark difference to a few minutes prior. He was too beautiful. He was too good to Canada. He took the two fingers sloppily but obediently, his need to please obvious, eyes occasionally fluttering shut with the delicateness of a butterfly’s wings.
Canada was unbearably hard. He could not handle it for very much longer. It was obvious in the way he subtly ground against England and stuttered his hips occasionally. England’s words made him worse.
“Please,” Canada whined to the best of his ability. He discarded his shame. “Please, I really need—“ Canada gagged. “Please, daddy, please,”
And just like that, England carelessly pushed them so Canada's back was flat against the couch, his shirt having ridden up to expose the soft midriff of something so pure. He forced his knee up between Canada's thighs and grinded it against Matthew's impossibly hard cock with a pace he wasn't aware he could still achieve in his age.
England had buried his face into the space where Canada's neck met his shoulder to lick a cool line up to the bottom of his ear before biting down harshly right on the side of his neck. The crude taste of iron mingling with sweat coated the sensitive space of Britain's mouth, rutting against the thigh he straddled himself on.
"Good boy, yeah, yeah...oh! Fuck! Hah-!" England's whines became increasingly louder as he clumsily dove his hand past the waist of Canada's trousers, more than pleased to find he was not wearing any boxers beneath. "You wanna make daddy proud, love? Yeah?" He panted, fumbling with his own trousers just enough to expose his lacklustre arse, "Yeah, of course you do, sweetheart...please...oh God, Matthew..."
England was keening under nothing as he suddenly felt too weak to lift himself to line his entrance with Canada's equally pathetic dick. The absence of any lube made him aware of the incoming burn but his desire hid the pain entirely as he impatiently forced himself on Canada's little length with a cry.
Canada yelped when he was pushed back. He did not get much time to grasp the new development before England’s knee was stimulating his clothed cock. Canada could only release a loud, wanton moan, so deliciously beautiful. He naturally pressed into England’s touch.
“Oh, God, it’s so good,” Canada squeaked, his arousal rendering his pitch high through whines.
Overwhelmed by England’s fervency but not upset, Canada laid flat and easy. He continued to moan out, a toy for England’s use, as his neck was harshly bitten down upon. He could not control the way his hips bucked upwards. A hot, rosy flush had dusted over Canada’s stupid face, glasses askew across it.
When England advanced toward *that*, Canada whimpered again. He felt so warm, warm all over, warm when he looked into England’s predatory gaze he so sorely loved. He watched inactively, in awe, as England was frantic to remove or at least pull down, to some extent, his own trousers.
“I’ll do anything,” Canada dumbly permitted, nodding his head so hard that one may have thought that it would fall off. “I love you, I love you, I love you, oh God, I can’t believe—,” Canada covered his face when England lined himself up but obviously peered through the slats in his hands. He was breathing heavily.
The submissive whine that Canada emitted once he was inside England was incredible. France and America might have heard. Pleasure wracked Canada’s body and left him destitute, unable to recall any other emotion but lust. His hands scratched and writhed against the sofa as he moaned out, completely shattered. There was little thought in his head. What a desperate thing Matthew Williams could be in the company of a lover, regardless of their intentions for him.
“Oh, God! Daddy, it’s so good, too good, I can’t take— Please, so good,” Canada whined sensitively. He brought his fingers to his own mouth and lapped at them idly, unintentionally seductive, desperate to find something to do with them. His hips bucked.
England ripped Canada's hand from his mouth, suckling off the bits of saliva to replace it with his own fingers, causing the smaller nation to gag with the lack of warning. He adored the sounds of struggle beneath him to an unhealthy degree,
As he used Matthew's sensitive young body as nothing but a vessel for his own pleasure, he could unfortunately feel his own orgasm bubbling up which caused him to clamp a fist around his cock to keep going for just that little while longer. He wanted to cherish Mattie while he still had him.
Every lewd sound that came from them mingled with pleas, mewls and the wet slap of skin on skin and it drove England mental. "You're doing so well, Matt, so, so, so good for me, pet..." He droned mindlessly, words becoming static amongst his buzzing head. "Ohh- love, mh! I-I'm so close, please...!"
He was chasing a purely selfish release. Whatever Canada might have been feeling was irrelevent to England as he begged for the climax he thought he'd worked so hard for. Worked so hard to overcome troubling emotions, worked so hard to have his way for, worked so hard to prove someone else wrong. His own righteousness funnelled deep into his core and twisted around his knob as did his hand to jerk himself off while desperately fucking himself onto his own flesh and blood.
Canada gagged wetly around the sudden fingers, tongue rubbing clumsily against them as Canada choked. The sounds were deeply arousing. Spittle built up in the corner of Canada’s mouth and made the boy appear sloppy and blissed out, well used already.
Canada knew not of what to do other than adhere to his body’s mindless needs. Thrusting inexpertly up into England, drooling at the way his cock dragged against the older nation’s walls. His fingers twirled around his hoodie’s drawstrings, unsure where to look. Looking at England made him too excited, he might come. He could feel it coiling in his gut already, embarrassing as the fact was.
“Mggh,” Canada moaned around England’s wet fingers. “I can’t take it, ‘s too— ah, ah, please, so good,”
The sounds were so vulgar. Canada committed them to memory for when he was alone in his bed late at night. Canada felt like such a slut under England, the attention that the man gave him was incredible. It was all Canada found himself thinking of these days. It was all that he wanted. He was constantly fighting a teetering state of arousal. He was so happy that he could cry. Maybe Canada did start, but he did not notice. How sad— Canada had no idea how much of an item he was to England.
“You’re so beautiful,” Canada complimented, slurred. “It’s so good,” Canada whined. “I’m cl— I’m going to— ah,” It was so close. Canada was so close. Any second Canada might come undone inside of England’s tight, welcoming hole.
Hearing Canada's praise sent his head reeling to a point of no return, choking on his own gasps as tears brewed upon blonde eyelashes to settle in the deep holes that bore until his skin just beneath. England's mind and body felt as if they were completely numb, the only thing keeping him aware of his immortal being was the impending released that thrummed through out his veins and clogged his arteries.
"B-Bollocks! Ah-! Mattie, I-! Mh!" He could not utter a word of warning before his seed shot all over Canada's hockey jersey, coating the thin material in a sticky weight that hung heavy on his body. The pained moan of ecstasy that rattled up England's throat echoed around the living room, attaching itself to ornate banister's to leave a lingering shame for later on in the days.
He panted and spluttered weakly, gripping Canada's side so hard he could see the tell-tale yellowing of a deep bruise blossoming under his fingertips. England swallowed down a breath, rising off of Canada with a sharp inhale before haphazardly wiping himself off with them hem of Matthew's tshirt. He had gotten what he wanted, and he was happy to ignore the frustration in Canada's now irritating noises as he left him strained.
England sighed, doing his trousers up properly, "Good boys shouldn't need daddy to do everything for them. Sort yourself out. Page 244." The only sign that anything had happened between them was the shake in his words, cracking if he were to speak a little too loudly.
He fidgeted, pulling his jumper down to where it needn't be fixed. He avoided looking at Canada, chewing his lip and shuffling awkwardly off upstairs. He would do well to run himself, or perhaps Matthew, a bath, he reasoned...that always took his mind off things…