A/N: Another Jordan and I tandem write! (I know you guys just LOVE this stuff...NOT!) Just know, I am halfway excited about this. This is my first ever yaoi/lemon attempt. *shot* Also, mommy Britain makes a fanfiction debut on my page! *double shot* Please don't kill me if it's terrible! In other rowboats, enjoy the story.!
"But Arthur, why won't you come over?" France whined through the telephone.
"Francis, I do, but what will people say? I don't want people to know about us quite yet," Britain answered him silently.
"Arthur!" France gasped, "Are you ashamed of me?"
"No! Not at all! But some people can be so cruel about such things..." He flashed back to a memory he'd wanted to forget long ago: One of cruelty and injustice from America.
"So, where's your friends at, dude? Can't you just imagine them whenever you feel like it?" America taunted.
"They are not imaginary! They are real people! At least Flying Mint Bunny appreciates me! Unlike you after I saved your ass!"
"Hey, maybe if you throw rocks at him his buddies'll come save him!" America halfway ordered. The other countries got handfuls of rocks and began throwing.
"You know I still have a scar from where one hit me!" Britain outraged.
"What does that have to do with coming to see meeeee?" France whined.
"Well, quite honestly, you are indeed a hardcore pervert, and I do not wish to be forced into anything I'm not fond of doing today," Britain trailed.
"You honestly think I would do that to you!"France asked.
"I refuse to answer that question."
Britain's door busted open. There could only be one person who'd tromp into his house uninvited.
"Yo, Britain! I bring you news about how I'm totally going to destroy you!"
"France, I'll call you later. America is here," with that, he slammed the phone down.
"Dude, who was that?" America asked.
"Nobody. What do you want, you twit?" England changed the subject.
"I dunno really...you wanna play a violent and malicious video game?" America asked.
"No, I have errands that I need to run," Britain stood to leave. America didn't move. "Alfred, this is my home" America didn't take the hint. "I am leaving." America still lost. "Get the hell out!"
"'Iight, dude, that's cool. I'll just go with you!" America cheered.
"No, you need to go home!" Britain said.
"Okay...," America backed out of the house in a very creepy-stalker like way.
Britain couldn't afford to let America see him and France together. The two most criticized people in their "friend" group together? That was asking for trouble. No, he would go alone. Or so he thought.
Britain decided a disguise was the best way to get to France's house. He couldn't afford to be seen by anybody that would ask questions.
America dived behind a bush and peered through and opening, "France's house?" Britain looked around the area before disappearing into the house. America ran to the window to spy.
"Francis, dear, I'm home," Britain said as he pulled off his disguise.
"Francis dear?" America was really confused now.
"Ah! Arthur! Decide that you are not ashamed of me?" France was sitting on the couch pouting.
"I told you I"m not ashamed. I'm just scared for you," Britain said honestly.
"What reason do you have to be scared for?" France inquired, suspecting lies.
"I've been teased for all my life. I can handle it, but you're so fragile," Britain now had his fingers through France's hair, "I couldn't stand it if their teasing hurt you in any way."
"Oh, Arthur," France swooped Britain up in his arms and carried him to the bedroom. America gasped and ran to the bedroom window.
France gently laid Britain on the bed and immediately began to nibble and lightly suck on the Brit's neck.
Britain really couldn't admit that he didn't like it, but he gave France a harsh shove, "I told you I didn't want to do this today!"
"Is that so? I must have forgotten," France smirked, "I'm sure I can make you change your mind." France locked his lips against Britain's and skillfully unfastened all the buttons on his lover's shirt. He pushed his tongue past the Brit's lips and began to explore every inch of his mouth.
Once he got the shirt down Britain's arms, France began to leave a trail of light, sensual kisses down his chin to his stomach. Britain let out an aroused gasp as France started to outline the hemline of his pants with his tongue lightly. He planted sweet kisses back up on his stomach and Britain gently pushed on France's head, hoping the Frenchman would take a hint for his need.
"Somebody's getting impatient," he pointed out, "I thought you didn't want this today?" Britain bit his lip in a bit of embarrassment.
"What's this?" France examined the growing bulge in the Brit's pants, "I suppose we'll have to look and find out." France ripped off Britain's pants, right along with his boxers in an instant, "My goodness, what am I supposed to do with this?" France twirled his index finger around the erect head of the member before him.
"Ngh," Britain held back a groan.
"Holding it back, eh? That's not how we do things in this bedroom." France flicked his skilled tongue out and ran it along the slit and soon took his lover's throbbing member into his mouth. The Frenchman bobbed his head along the length and hummed, dragging his tongue around the shaft. Britain arched his back and shoved his needful member more into the Frenchman's mouth. France placed his hands on the Brit's hips and held him down. Britain rolled his eyes into the back of his head and gathered the sheets in a death grip as the put in his stomach tensed up. France noticed his lover's tension and let off his member with a wet pop.
"Filthy wanker," Britain panted. France smirked.
"Why must you call me such names?" he asked, reaching over into the drawer of the nightstand and pulling out a bottle of lube. He popped the cap and coated his fingers with the substance. France pushed one of his digits through the tight muscles of Britain's opening. The Brit groaned at the sudden, quick intrusion and shuddered as the Frenchman added a second digit and started to scissor them against the tight rings of muscles surrounding his fingers. Britain bit his lip hard and he could taste blood. The sheets were being abused by his hands, and his head was pounding from the want to shout and moan for his lover, but too embarrassed to do it.
France removed his fingers and Britain prepared himself for something much more extreme than two fingers. He exhaled and cleared his mind to relax. While doing this, France coated his own member with the cool substance, and tossed the bottle aside.
He positioned himself and quickly thrust into the barely-prepared ring of muscles. Britain's mouth escaped a moan and hissed a little after a while of staying in one spot.
"Bloody fucking hell, move!" Britain ordered.
"My, my. Somebody's getting feisty," France smirked.
"Move!" France pulled outward until only his tip was left, only to slam it back inside the Brit. He repeated this, taking up different angles in attempt to hit Britain's sweet spot. He thrust in again, and this time, receiving a loud, lustful moan of pleasure from the man under him.
"God, Francis, right there!" he panted. France angled himself and thrust in again, gaining another loud moan form Britain. It wasn't long before Britain bundled the sheets in his palms again and breathed in hot pleasure.
"I-I'm going to cum! I can't take it!" he yelled, and released his white semen onto both of their stomachs. France thrust in one last time before climaxing his seed into the Brit. The Frenchman collapsed onto his lover and they clashed their lips together.
America wasn't certain he wanted to throw up or be astonished. He backed away from the window and bolted off elsewhere.
"Just want until I see him next time," America smirked to himself as he ran.