"I know you, you old fart… you'd never do anything freaky in bed! Or even in general!"
England crossed his arms over his plaided green sweater vest, furrowing those great eyebrows of his. "…Are you implying that I am a prude of sorts, America?" To be honest, he wasn't sure how this conversation manifested. America had opened his mouth and started in about how England was lame… and boring… and then apparently under the impression that England forged sexual activities…
"Well, yeah," the other nation said cheekily, knowingly, "Cause you are all proper and shit. You wouldn't do anything freaky even if I double dog dared you. No! Triple dog dared you!"
"…what in the bloody hell does that even mean?"
From the dining room entrance, Canada twisted his hands but raised his voice determinedly above America's uproarious laughter, "Both of you, please do not start a fight in my den. Dinner is ready."
England could almost see America's ears perk up like a hound at the mention of food. "DUUUUDE!" He cried out, sprinting for the entrance, and Canada just barely missed being barreled into by the larger and near salivating nation. "What are we having? Is it hamburgers?" England's emerald eyes follow after him wickedly.
'So then… you want 'freaky', America…?'
At any public outing, as usual, America was making a nuisance of himself. He cheerfully made fun of Canada's maple leaf hoodie he was wearing and attempted to wrestle the other nation down on the dining room's carpet to slap a sticker of an American flag over it (and was unsuccessful and almost brought to indignant tears as Canada belted him across the head with the force of his flailing arm). He cheerfully made fun of France's flesh-colored goatee and compared it to some American "reality star" Spencer Pratt (no one cared that much to listen to any further explanation). He cheerfully made fun of England who calmly spilled some butter over his fingers and tried to cover up a funny noise (and definitely not aroused… oh no, no, never) from his throat when the smaller nation seated beside him dipped a finger into his mouth to suck clean. He then cheerfully went on to making fun of the Québécois shepherd's pie they were eating as well as the Niagara Falls from the open bay window.
By that point, Canada's hands were balled up in his lap in quiet seething.
"The meal is délicieux, Mathieu," France said reassuringly, touching his shoulder. "You have done wonderfully, cher."
"Ahahaha…! If by good you mean—" America's bright blue eyes behind his red, fashionable eyeglasses bugged out as his sentence cut out. England's somewhat sticky and slick fingers glided under his black-and-white "MAN VS FOOD" tee shirt and stroked his lower back intently, playing with the bumps of America's spine. Everyone else was too busy ignoring him to notice his gob-smacked expression or as it sent itself in England's direction who pretended to ignore him as well. The fingers went lower. And lower. And lower still.
America frantically clutched at the tablecloth with both hands, clattering the dinnerware on the table, as England's wet, middle finger pushed into his anus, and he held back a scream from the cold sensation. France and Canada took notice of the sounds of the items on the table moving and England addressed them with a straight face, "Does anyone else smell something burning in the kitchen?"
"…The dessert!" Canada shot up out of his chair, a worried France in fast pursuit as they disappeared.
The finger inside America dug deeper in and he groaned, feeling his cock twitch in response. America glared at his unconcerned companion staring ahead.
"…What the hell are you doing, man?"
England's emerald eyes glanced at him superiority. "Now what was that you were saying about freaky?"
"Okay…" America said, squirming when the finger stilled, "you've proved your point…"
"Let up, will ya...? I don't wanna do this with France and Mattie around."
"Somehow I find this contrary to your statement," England tutted with a pleasant smile, with his other hand, pressing down purposefully on America's somewhat bulging erection in his jeans. "…I believe you were watching me when I spilled the butter earlier. Did you enjoy the show?"
America's face flushed shamefully and he protested against the accusation, and jerked back when England's middle finger slipped out. Breathing hard, the taller nation watched as the other went on his hands and knees to crawl under the heavy draping of the dining room table. Suddenly, America's chest rammed into the edge of the table as his chair was pulled forward roughly. "Damn it, that hurt!"
"You are such a child…," came from under the table and America again grabbed the table when the finger returned, massaging the walls of his anus, this time letting a small yelp escape him. His jeans were unzipped… (what… he?) and just as he felt England's warm, open mouth on his cock, Canada returned from the kitchen, irritated and appearing as if he had his own wrestling match with France.
The violet-eyed nation fixed his skewed glasses, blinking to adjust his vision. "Where is Arthur?"
"Uh…" America smoothed the tablecloth in front of him, forcing one of his cheerful laughs, but to his ears it was too high-pitched, "He…uh… needed to go upstairs to… uh… mmmgawd…" That finger…
Canada raised an eyebrow slowly. "To use the restroom?"
"Yes! That!" The blue-eyed nation told him breathlessly.
"Are you feeling well, Al? You look feverish."
"Don't worry about it. Shouldn't you go get the dessert or something?"
Matthew glanced over at the kitchen and rolled his eyes. "I suppose so."
He stepped out, and the kitchen door swung back into place. At that precise moment, America slouched back with a loud moan, opening his legs further for England as the smaller nation continued sucking and finger-fucking him. Oh dear sweet baby jesus… he was humming "God Save the Queen"… with his cock in his mouth…
When America's moans became sharper, when his cock engorged much further, England added his index finger to the pressure but purposefully avoided America's prostate. He crawled out from under the table and resumed his place in his seat as America stared openly at him, perspiring, reddened, exasperated.
"Oh…" Canada said to a composed England as the younger carried in the serving dish of the newly cooked steamed pudding. "You are back."
"Where did I go?"
"Alfred said you went to the restroom…" Canada gave America a perplexed look. England's fingers inside America stretched out and he wasn't sure if he could hold out much longer. His front teeth gripped over his bottom lip to shut himself up. "Alfred, you look worse. Are you sure you don't need anything?"
"He's fine," England said dismissively, patiently. "Come here for a moment, Matthew." The other obeyed, setting down the dish. With smiling eyes, England licked the unused thumb of his other hand. "You have a smudge of cinnamon right here…you can see it too, can't you, America?" England addressed his victim offhandedly as he gently rubbed his saliva-shined thumb over the righthand corner of Canada's tender-looking and accommodating mouth. America's groan screamed.
With a subtle push backwards in his chair, America seated himself fully on England's fingers until his prostate was hit hard, and totheglory, creamed his pants until his head thudded onto the tabletop. Alarmed by the shaking of his dining room table, Canada glanced towards his lifeless and occasionally spasming form.
"Is…is he alright?" he asked worried.
A silent, Cheshire cat smirk worked its way up England's face.
I... do not own anything in this story. No references or Hetalia characters. If I did... I would have more FACE family dinners happening. Because they would be awesome. And you know it. I strayed a little from the prompt when it came to the pairing... I switched who was more dominant... but really? I need more dom!England in my life and I have decided that you too, my darling reader. You'll thank me later~
HAPPY 40K+ HITS AND YOU, MY READERS, MADE IT POSSIBLE. ILU~
Finger-fucking while sitting down and in any situation wherein they can't make too much noise/be too obvious or else they'd get caught.
SRSLY GAIZ. WE NEED MORE FINGER-FUCK FICS."
Spencer Pratt: A television personality from "The Hills" on MTV. One of my favorite insults about him is from Joel McHale of The Soup about his creepy flesh-colored beard.
Québécois shepherd's pie: A dinner dish layered with cooked corn, some kind of beef, and mashed potatoes. It can be made a number of ways with ingredients.
Man vs Food: ...aw, c'mon, it needed to be in there! GET MY REFERENCE.!.? x-3 And yet another American television show reference.
God Save The Queen: The national anthem for the United Kingdom.
steamed pudding: Another dish you can find Canada. I was thinking more of the Newfoundland figgy one.
délicieux: "delicious" in French
Mathieu: another way of saying "Matthew"
cher: "dear" in French