It is about time I upload a new story. I have so little inspiration lately...

Warnings for Yaoi, possibly bad English and poor little people not getting what they asked for.

I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, unfortunately...

Treacherous books

The United States of America was staring dumbfounded at the book in his hands. He flipped the offensive article over to look at the back, seeing the front cover instead. A very wrong picture decorated the cover. So wrong, yet so intriguing. He pondered whether the picture was disturbing or pretty, but the theme alienated him too much to think clearly about it. He turned the book over once again, but the front – or rather the back as it appeared, the book had been printed the wrong way around – couldn't give him much more information. The picture on the front was all the information he would get without opening the book. But he couldn't believe it.

He tentatively opened the book halfway. The details of the pictures he saw made it undoubtedly a beautiful art. The words were English, but the chronology of the speech bubbles didn't make sense at all. Neither did the pictures. He slammed the comic book closed, panting in shock, fingers trembling on the top of the pages.

He did not just see a drawing of his former caretaker, naked with spread legs and a heavy shy blush. He did not!

After a minute standing there, breathing heavily with the book pressed between his hands, he suddenly turned, slammed the book on the table in the hall and rushed to the kitchen to make himself coffee. Strong coffee.

Gulping down his coffee he realised the book was probably Japanese. He noticed Japan reading books backwards before. Japan had pointed out to him that the comic should be read backwards too, beginning at the upper right speech bubble. He nodded his head, it must be Japanese.

But why would Japan send him such a questionable book? The picture of a shyly blushing England on the front was cover was strange enough, but the absolute submissive pose England was displayed in in the middle of the book was obviously a wild fantasy never to come true. England would never ever lie down naked with spread legs and such a cute blushing face. Or would he?

America slowly put down the mug after gulping down a refill of coffee and an equal amount of cold water. Maybe he had just seen it wrong. He only focused on that picture, maybe he had taken it out of context and it wasn't meant to show England in such a submissive way at all. He nodded to himself again and decided to go back to the hall, and take the book with him for a more elaborate study.

When he picked up the book, he carefully hid it underneath a few envelopes – which looked suspiciously much like they were bills – to resist the temptation of opening the book at a random place again. He would read the book from the beginning, no spoilers. Then he would surely understand that the picture in the middle was not a submissive England, but an angry one. Yes, the blush must have been one from anger. It was England after all.

He opened the other letters first, just to calm his nerves. The high amounts of the bills couldn't really calm him down though. He breathed deeply and threw the bills over his shoulder, picking up the book again. Why would Japan send him this? Was it even really Japan who did this? He turned the book and opened it on the first page – which would always be the last page in his eyes, considering it was at the back of the book. It showed a picture of an angry and fully dressed England, bold printed profanities in the speech bubbles around him. America sighed in relief. Finally something that looked normal in this book. He smiled slightly as he started reading about England shouting his cooking 'did not suck, thank you very much!' He grinned as he found himself drawn in a sexy pair of jeans and awesome t-shirt on the next page, throwing light-hearted insults at the angry Brit.


America was blushing wildly when he closed the book at the last page. His body felt hot, and he was sure he looked like a sweating tomato. But the book had been intriguing. The plot was thought out well, making the different situations following each other hard to deny. But such explicit pictures! The artist must know both him and England very well, being able to show them in so well in such intimate situations. The writer had seen completely through America's personality, even though not many different people had ever experienced him in bed like that. He'd only slept a few different people before, so one of them must have talked to the artist.

But how was it possible that England could change so much? One moment he was a roaring beast, screaming about his scones being perfectly edible, but a few pages later he had been a blushing shy creature, moaning out America's, no Alfred's name. So very intimate and so very feminine. America could hardly believe it, but the artist had been accurate on all other subjects too.

He quickly rose to his feet, stumbling to his computer and switched it on. Maybe there were more works about England like this, maybe another author would tell him a different story about the old pirate. Squirming to ignore his pressing erection – for all things he couldn't be excited by England, for he couldn't imagine England being so feminine at all – he clicked on the first searching engine within reach and started looking for comics on England.

It took him a while to find out what terms to use in his search, his groin finally calming down while he found out the comics were called doujinshi and he should specify on translated ones, the majority being written with those strange symbols Japan insisted on using. It surprised him how many of these comics were made about England and himself. Most were about them, but a lot also about England and France. He downloaded ten about himself and the Brit and went to get some food while the computer was busy.

He shoved a hamburger in his mouth when he opened the first doujinshi, settling comfortably in his chair to read. The comfortable sitting didn't last long, though. He refused to get turned on by just England, but the doujinshis showed him to be so deliciously feminine and flushing, moaning… uhmm, well, unlike his usual behavior, obviously, that America couldn't help but bend over trying to squeeze his erection away.

It was halfway the sixth doujinshi he let out a loud moan, bringing himself back to reality and staring shocked at his crotch. He had been so absorbed by the drawings that he hadn't noticed his hand slipping in his pants.

He shrugged, he couldn't stop anymore now. He leaned backwards, scanning the picture of an England bent over a table with his hands held to his back, tears in the corners of his eyes. The fact that it was him who was fucking England senseless in the picture might just have made looking at the flushed face of the drawing a little more arousing. He moaned low as he quickly unzipped his pants, giving him the space to fully stroke his member instead of the forced fumbling.

In all the doujinshis, England started out as the angry man he was in daily life, like America knew him. But with a little bit of either romance or molestation, he quickly turned into a shy blushing creature every single time. America's breath sped up. All those doujinshis couldn't be wrong, statistically speaking. That meant England would be all… He groaned low and started stroking even faster, his eyes half lidded but still staring at the picture in front of him intently. England was so damn sexy in all those doujinshis. He would never have imagined that old man to be so arousing. But he was. England was such a splendid bottom. He half choked and growled England's name as he came, trying to catch the white spurting as he bent over and rested his head on the desk, panting.

England as submissive bottom. He had to experience this in real life.

America rang the bell of England's house. He had thought out a fail-proof plan using the information from several doujinshis. Step one was appearing at England's house while said man was cooking. Considering the Brit always carried a ton of freshly baked horrors (England preferred calling them scones) at World Meetings, it was obvious that he would be baking the day before such a meeting took place. America had sneaked into the garden to peek into the kitchen, concluding England was indeed baking the small little horrors he was so fond of.

"Coming!" He heard the slightly muffled voice of England through the door. A grin started to appear on America's face.

"Yes?" the door opened and England's face appeared. His huge eyebrows shot up in surprise when he recognized his visitor. America grinned even wider at the slight smear of dough on England's cheek. This was going to be easy.

"Hi England! I thought, let's stop by that grumpy ol' man again and see what's he up to. Preparing to poison the world again, I see?" America squeezed himself inside without waiting for an invitation, dropping his luggage halfway the hall and steering directly to the kitchen.

"W-What?" England sputtered and quickly followed after closing the door. "What are you doing here, you stupid git? Who invited you? And who asked your bloody opinion!"

"Juuust stopping by," America said in a sing-song voice as he jumped on the kitchen table, settling comfortably while shoving aside baking tools.

"Get off the table! I didn't raise you to be so rude!"

"Kids left alone raise themselves. Didn't you know? Aren't those pebbles burning?"

"Wha-" England turned to the oven with a shriek, slamming it open and trying to pull out the tray with black scones. He shrieked again when the hot tray burned his fingers, quickly putting them in his mouth while hissing in pain.

America shot up, watching tears appear in the eyes of the finger-sucking man just one second before jumping in on cue. There was his feminine little thing already. Things were going even better than expected.

He pulled England to his feet and locked his fingers around the wrist of the burned hand. He forced the man to the sink and turned on the cold water, holding the burned fingers in place as the burn was cooled.

He smiled down tenderly on the slightly blushing face of the Brit, who was trying to blink away the tears and softly trembling underneath the American's hands. Just getting to England at the right moment did wonders alone, apparently. There was no way they wouldn't be in bed together within half an hour. Except if they decided to do it on the table, of course.

America lifted one hand to tenderly brush away the dough on England's face with his thumb. England's face snapped up in surprise, watching him wide eyed as he seductively licked the dough off his fingers. He tried his best not to cringe at the taste, he should have thought of that before tasting it of course…

He wrapped his fingers around England's jaw, keeping his face tilted up as he leant forward just the slightest bit, voice whispering. "Is the burn feeling better now? Or should I kiss the pain away like you used to do when I was small?"

England's eyes widened even more, before he suddenly started smiling maliciously, taking America slightly off guard. "I don't know what's gotten into you lad, but you should know things like these are supposed to be taken a little slower. But if you are this desperate I can oblige just this once."

The hand that was still in America's grip under the cold stream of water was suddenly twisted away and icy wet fingers wrapped around America's tie to pull him down. America could just let out a small sound of surprise before hot moist lips pressed against his. His lips were pushed apart and a warm tongue slipped in between. He was shocked to notice a fluttering feeling in his stomach and a tightening in his groin, even though the feminine blushing England he was aiming for was obviously not planning to appear. Fingers scraped over the skin of his head, gripping his hair tightly as the tongue passionately fought with his. He tried to push back, gain some territory inside England's mouth, but he couldn't even manage to get his tongue past his own lips, let alone those talented lips of the Brit.

He suddenly found himself being pressed with his backside to the table, England leaning in to push him down. He hadn't even noticed them walking backwards! Fingers spread over his chest, delicately pushing him down while his lips and mouth were still being ravaged. America was getting in very short supply of oxygen by now, but he couldn't let England dominate him like this. He would not lose this battle!

He tried to push back, with as only result England bucking his hips into his groin. America moaned and pulled back, gasping for air. The smirk on England's face was downright triumphant.

"You have such a lovely shade of red, my boy. I didn't know you could still be so cute as a grown man."

America's face grew hot and he sputtered. How the hell was he supposed to react? This wasn't what the doujinshis had told him, damn it!

England's expression softened and he leant forward, brushing his lips against America's again. "This isn't quite what you expected, right," he muttered against the lips that still trembled in embarrassment. "But I am older and more experienced. Did you really think you could overwhelm me like that?" He kissed him a bit stronger, slipping his tongue in America's mouth al little before leaning back again. "So I guess you wouldn't want to continue this, hmm?"

America's breath hitched. Even though this was not what he had intended, he was extremely aroused and he would rather kill himself than leave right now. "I just have to try harder. I will dominate you," he brought out between clenched teeth.

England chuckled. "I'd like to see you try, Alfred."

America shivered when England spoke his name. When was the last time England had called him like that?

He shot forward and pressed his lips against the other's, trying to push his tongue past the other's lips again. Just like the time before the Englishman's tongue managed to invade his mouth without giving him space to do the same to the other. America whined, not giving up. England chuckled in the kiss and his knee pressed up between America's legs, making his body stiffen.

America broke the kiss panting, glaring at the man chuckling at him and tried again. Just as before he was unable to dominate the kiss, and England started pushing his back on the table. Before he knew it he was lying down on the table, legs dangling off the side awkwardly and England on top of him on his elbows and knees while his hands kept kneading in America's hair.

"Is this really the best place to be doing this," America panted when he broke the kiss again. He arched his back awkwardly on the hard surface of the table to illustrate his point.

"Every place has its good and its bad points," England breathed over his skin.

A hand started to sneak into America's shirt. His breath hitched as his nipples were pinched. He cursed under his breath, he was not supposed to act like a woman. England was supposed to be underneath him acting like a woman. England however chuckled at his reaction and started unbuttoning the shirt that was hindering his caressing. It wasn't until his shirt and his pants were removed, leaving him in his boxers, that he realized it was time for action if he wanted to stand any chance. He gripped the shoulders of the man who was sucking his nipples and pushed him away, suppressing the whine at the loss of the warm lips around the sensitive nipple. He quickly flipped the Brit over, now straddling England's hips on the table instead of the other way around.

He sat there panting for a moment, surprised England had let him turn them around.

"Well? If you want to sit on top, you have to do something, lad."


England reached up and crashed their lips together. He grabbed one of America's hands and brought it up to his tie. "Why don't you undress me while you're up there, Alfred?"

America shivered again. England saying is name with such a husky voice. It made more heat pool in his groin every time.

He started fumbling at the tie and the dress shirt England was wearing, having trouble to concentrate on the undressing while he was still trying to not let England ravish his mouth as if he were his property. England's hips bucked up against his as if to tell him to hurry up.

He switched one leg to sit next to England's body when he started to fumble on the button of his trousers. He felt a hand nudge at his thighs, gently pulling his legs towards England's chest. America felt his heart thump when England shifted and leant up, nipping at the fabric of his boxers. The button of the Brit's trousers flew off when America's boxers were violently tugged down. His legs were pushed apart, forcing him to lower his body and bringing the stiff hanging manhood within reach of England's vicious lips.

America cried out and his arms collapsed when his length was engulfed within the heat he had tried to penetrate with his tongue so many times just moments ago. He pressed his face in England's belly and moaned deep. He trembled in pleasure.

A hand slowly wrapped around his jaw and slightly pushed him down the Englishman's body, towards the opened but not removed trousers. The American raised himself back onto his elbows trembling and quickly removed the pants, shoving down the boxers with them. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was already swallowing and gagging with an English cock up his throat.

"Easy now," England panted.

America tried his best to imitate what England was doing to him, but he realized the older man was far more experienced than he would have expected. Half of the time he was simply busy moaning and choking on the hardness in his mouth, unable to properly suck at it with the pleasure in his own groin. His muscles started clenching as he started to get close to his climax, and he released England's cock in favor of moaning very loud.

He heard a soft 'plop' and he felt cold air on his cock. He shivered and whined, but England turned on the table, taking the American's lower half with him. Before he had time to get his thoughts in order again, he was pushed down on his stomach on the table, his legs pulled off the edge. His toes reached the floor and with an indignant huff he tried to raise himself.

"I think you are lying just perfectly down there, Alfred," America grew tense at the lust-filled voice. England, standing next to the table now, bend over him and pressed his chest against America's back kissing his neck. "You ready for this, Alfred?" America felt England's wet hardness lying between his ass cheeks. It slowly slid up and down while England waited patiently for his answer.

America moaned, trying to make it sound like a huff. "Get on with it, I'll get you next time."

"I was hoping you'd say that," England grinned into his skin.

America stiffened when he felt two wet fingers slide inside him. They quickly started scissoring, being followed by a third finger within a minute. America whined at the strange feeling. It didn't really hurt, hero's didn't hurt, but the feeling was foreign. The fingers were pulled back and England impatiently pushed inside.

America gasped, his fingers scratching the surface of the table and his muscles tensing all at once. He couldn't possibly have been prepared for the full and stretching feeling of England's manhood inside of him.

"Shhh. Relax, Alfred. It won't hurt like this for long."

America forced the breath he was holding out and tried to relax his body. England kept still as if waiting was the most normal thing in the world. He almost seemed calm while he waited for America to adept.

"Arthur," he whined.

"If you start doing that I can't help but move Alfred," England breathed out as one fast rant. His fingers clenched around America's hips, pushing him down on the hard table when he started moving inside. America moaned at the feeling of such a large thing moving inside of him. He could feel England's hipbones pressing against his ass at each slow thrust.

"Is it starting to hurt less," England whispered in his ear while he kept moving slowly.

"Won't you kiss it better?" America moaned.

England sucked himself a vacuum on America's neck in response and pushed inside in a slightly different angle. America cried out and arched his back. England had hit his prostate and, God, he needed him to do that again!

England managed to grin even while sucking on the tender spot underneath his lips and kept hitting that one place inside America.

"Arthur," America cried, trying to buck his hips to get England even deeper inside of him. The fingers on his hips started to massage slow rounds, and England's pace quickened. "Call me that again, Alfred."

"Arthur," America moaned at the next thrust. England lowered one hand to take a firm grip of America's manhood dangling just off the table. America emitted a high moan as England started stroking him and hitting his prostrate simultaneously. When England moaned his name inside his ear with a low husky voice, he couldn't hold himself anymore. With a scream he came, spurting his seed all over the kitchen floor underneath the table. In his haze, he suddenly felt aware of his surroundings: the cold wooden table banging against the wall and the last baking tin falling off on the stone floor when England thrust inside one more time. England groaned and trembled, his chest flush against America's back as he came inside of him.

They lay there, panting, for a good ten minutes, until America started shivering uncontrollably on the cold table. England wrapped his arms around America without moving off or out of him.

"Now could you please tell me what it is that suddenly got into your head, Alfred?"

"I don't think it's a good idea if I tell you that." America laughed sheepishly.

"Considering I've just found at least half of your most sensitive spots, don't you think I can make you spill it anyway?"

America barked out a laugh, "I'd like to see you try!"

Perhaps he was glad he couldn't see the sadistic grin that appeared on England's face.


Reviews are very welcome and make me a happy person. If you have constructive criticism on how to make my writing or grammar better, please tell me! But if you dislike my story, please tell me in a nice way...