I Want You
This is actually the first idea that I had for a Hetalia story. I was surprised to see that it hadn't been already used so I started thinking up a plot. I finally got around writing it and now I'm typing it up.
This obviously came from the song by The Beatles of the same title. Basically, England is trying to find the right way to let America know that he likes him.
Disclaimer: Expect some more from me.
I Want You
England couldn't remember a time when he had ever felt like this. Ever. He had even been through far worse than this and yet, he couldn't get rid of these feelings. He, who had once been a fearless pirate, the Greatest Nation to ever be, could not get his sentiments across to the daftest nation to have ever existed. How was he ever supposed to tell America that he sort of liked him when half his waking time was spent arguing with him? Better yet, how was he supposed to tell him, who had left, that he wanted America all to himself?
At the very beginning, when England had first realized that he secretly liked America's obnoxious attitude, he had worried that the feelings weren't mutual. Fearing rejection, he hadn't said a thing. But after many years of keeping this to himself, he just wanted an occasion to let everything out, kiss America to get it out of his system and then move on with his life if America chose to never talk to him again. All he wanted was one small chance. However, finding a chance and an opportunity of the sorts didn't happen just any day. Even when one had fairies for friends, it didn't help.
That was how, many months after only wanting one small opening, England was at a loss of ideas and was trying not to think of his unrequited love for the younger nation. This was proving to be rather difficult so he decided to listen to some music. He turned on the stereo in his study and pressed the shuffle button. He couldn't even remember what CDs were in there.
He sat back down at his desk and attempted to read the paper, but the first song that came on sent his mind on an entirely different tangent.
"I want you… I want you so bad…"
England felt a blush creep on his cheeks. How could a song that hadn't a single romantic word in it make him think of America? He knew the answer to it, but he just didn't want to admit it to himself. He thought of simply skipping to the next song, but decided against it. An idea was starting to form at the back of his mind. It was bold, daring and crazy beyond comparison, but England knew that it would somehow work. He would just have to put his pride aside for this one time. And who knew, perhaps it would win him the company of one very good looking nation.
England then spent the following weeks preparing his diabolical plan. Every spare moment he had, he used it for his "special project". No one knew about it, but most of the countries had seen the fervour with which he worked at and knew that he was up to something. However curious they were, they weren't moronic enough to try and ask what this was all about.
Finally, after a month of planning and rehearsing, the plan was ready, now the only thing missing was America. England simply didn't know how to casually invite him over when he seldom did and the last thing England wanted was for America to be suspicious that something was up.
Lucky for his sanity, about a week after the completion of his plan, America himself called to ask or more like announce the fact that he was coming over for some triviality or other. For once, England didn't care. As long as America came, all was fine with the world. England dressed up for the main event that would transgress in a few hours time and he put his regular clothes over his "costume" since he didn't want to spoil the surprise for America.
It wasn't long before the much awaited guest arrived. England treated him as he usually did and accompanied him to the study where they usually discussed over important matters. He let the younger nation tell him what he wanted to and only listened in parts. England still managed to nod at the right moments and America didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong. England wasn't even entirely sure what he was babbling on about. It had something to do with NASA and a new space voyage, but England couldn't care less at the moment.
When the younger of the two had finally finished with his insignificant chatter, England told him that he had something to show America in return. The later of the two's curiosity was immediately piqued and he followed him wordlessly. This was almost too easy for England, but he wasn't going to complain.
The wiser nation walked along the main hallway of his house and stopped in front of an old conference room that he rarely used anymore. It had once been a very popular room when he had been an imposing and powerful nation. Nowadays, it was mostly used to host dinner parties that rarely happened at his house.
"Please have a seat, I'll be right back." England told his guest before disappearing in some other corner of the room. America walked around for a moment before spotting the one single chair that was in the middle of the room. He walked to it and sat down. He had already been in this room when he had been younger. In those days, there had been a large circular table with many chairs around it. He looked around to locate it, but he couldn't find the table. He was about to call out to England to find out what was taking him so long. It was so unlike the British man to not only have interesting things to show him, but also, of making him wait. His punctuality had always been a trait that America had found endearing and charming in his former mentor.
All of a sudden, a single spotlight illuminated the front of the room. America turned his chair in that direction and noticed a small wooden platform. It looked to be a few feet off the floor and there were stairs that could help someone walk to whoever was not on the platform. America was even more intrigued. Was this some kind of performance? All for him?
The light was raised a bit and focused on the silhouette of a man at the far back of the platform. America had to squint his eyes a bit to distinguish who it could be. Upon closer observation, he realized that it was England. England who was dressed in a way that was anything but England. The man was wearing his regular pleated black pants with his usual shoes, but that wasn't what made America's jaw drop. It was the top, or rather the lack of one.
The Briton had a sleeveless, light-grey vest that was completely open and revealed almost his entire chest. America had to close his mouth and swallow hard. He couldn't remember the last time he had ever seen England's exposed arms, let alone his chest. It had to have been once during the Second Great War. The older nation had been hit at the shoulder and someone had removed his shirt to treat the wound. That had been the only time that America could recall that England had ever exposed his upper body. Even during the summertime he wore long sleeved, light cotton dress shirts.
The younger nation had to admit that this sight certainly pleased him. He had always felt some sort of attraction towards England, but had never dared mention anything. They always spent their time taunting each other so surely, the feeling was not mutual.
Other than the sleeveless vest, England was also wearing a tie, but it wasn't any regular, plain old tie that he would wear at world conferences. No, it was one of his good silk ties that he wore for formal occasions. America followed the length of the tie with his eyes until the fabric stopped at England's stomach. He had never known or even suspected that England was physically fit. He didn't have the body of a body builder, but he certainly had muscles. And with the light focusing on those same muscles, America wasn't sure what to think anymore. The ensemble was finished off with white pristine gloves and the overall look made America tremble.
He was going to ask something to England, but he then noticed that there was music that had started playing. The instrumental beginning sounded vaguely familiar and he did a double take when he heard the first words of the song. America's jaw almost literally fell off when he saw that England had started dancing quite seductively and was fast approaching.
The poor man nearly lost it. Even though the lyrics did not mean what England was trying to get across, the two fit quite well together. The message rang loud and clear in America's head. England wanted him bad and it was driving him mad. America felt elated… no, he felt turned on by the bold display of affection the older nation was giving him.
By now, England was close to the stairs. He was pleased to see that America was still seated on the chair and hadn't bolted out of the room. He had been worried that the younger man would have been traumatized, but by the blush that was forming on his face, England knew that his plan was working. He just had to stick with it and move on with the next part.
As he descended the stairs and got progressively closer to the seated nation, he untied his tie and let it hang loosely on his shoulders. America's blush got darker and England was even more pleased. He took a few extra steps and was now standing directly in front of the bespectacled man. Now came the more daring part of his plan.
When England sat on his lap, America thought for sure that he was sleeping. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever been in such close physical contact with England. He felt certain parts of his body react to this close proximity and he desperately wanted to pull the older man to him, crush his lips with his own and then do… other things. However, when he made to move his hands and arms, he found that they were bound to the chair's legs. In all his stupor, he hadn't even noticed that England had tied him up with his tie: the one tie that America had fixed earlier on. The younger country had no choice but to remain there and devour his seducer with his eyes.
England was certainly enjoying the effect that he was having on America. He could feel him react to every touch, to every caress and it pleased him even more. The thing that pleased him the most was that he was able to render America speechless. He who had once been great and mighty had made the current great nation completely entranced. Perhaps greatness inspired greatness, England thought as he removed one white glove with his teeth and let his bare hand lose itself into America's golden tresses. The reaction he got from the younger country was very stimulating.
America leaned his head closer to England's hand and a moan escaped his lips. America tried to jerk his hands, but the silk kept them tied behind his back. America really wanted to let his own hands roam free on the Brit's chest.
He watched helplessly as England shifted on his lap to make himself more comfortable. He then observed as the older country leaned against him until both their chests were pressed together and then he removed his other glove one finger at a time. England repeated the same exercise as before and let his second freed hand stroke through America's hair. The sensation that he felt on his scalp was simply magnificent.
When England pulled out his hand from the seated man's hair, America whimpered, missing the sensation, but he then almost choked when he saw that England was leaning his head ever so close to his. For a moment, America thought that England was going to kiss him, which was something that the younger of the two desperately wanted at this point, but instead, the green eyed man put his arms around the other's shoulders and then removed America's glasses with his teeth. Just as he was about to pull back completely, England's lips brushed against America's cheek and the moan that came out from the later was just a tad louder than the last: the shudder that ran though America made England shudder in return.
There wasn't much left to the song and England had to get ready for the big finale. The last verse of the song came and England put his hands on either side of America's face. He looked straight into the cerulean eyes that he had come to love and America looked back into his green ones. When the last word was heard in the old conference room, England's lips were on America's.
"I want you, but do you want me?" He whispered to the man he was sitting on. If possible, America's blush got even darker, but his eyes were filled with want and lust; something that was probably mirrored into his own eyes.
"Yes… but please untie me now." America whimpered.
"Alright, but don't move." The older of the two bent down and started untying America's hands. The proximity of England's neck to his mouth made the younger nation want to kiss it and he involuntarily moved his head. England felt the shift and stopped his action.
"Don't move." He reminded the overeager man. America didn't move a hair even though he found it incredibly hard to do so. Once he was done untying his hands, England wrapped the tie around America's neck. He then pulled on the tie until their faces were only inches away. England was about to kiss him a second time, but America managed to break free from his trance for a second.
"Can I please move?" He begged. England nodded and not a second later, America's arms were around the other's shoulders and his hands were entwined in England's hair. America pulled him down and crashed his lips onto the older nation's. It was a feeling of intensity that neither of them had ever experienced before.
America's hands left England's hair and started pushing down the sleeveless vest that he was wearing. The feeling of England's chest on his fingers was simply delightful. Just as he was about to completely remove it, England slightly pushed America away and got up.
"Come with me." He whispered pulling him by the tie that was tied around America's neck. He followed England out of the room silently, too mesmerized to say a thing.
The following morning, England woke up with a content smile on his face. He looked towards the end of his bed and the first thing that he noticed was America's head resting comfortably on his chest. The eldest of the two watched him sleep for a while as his hand instinctively came up to caress his face. America murmured something incoherent in his sleep and snuggled closer to England. The later one's smile widened and he couldn't help but think to himself that now that he had what he wanted, he was never letting it go.
Well, that's done.
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Started writing: November 2nd 2009, 10:37 pm
Finished writing: November 4th 2009, 8:10 am
Started typing: November 4th 2009, 3h17 pm
Finished typing: November 4th 2009, 6:44 pm