Kink Meme De-anon

Title: Greased Lightning!
Pairing: US/UK
Rating: R-18
Genre: Romance/PWP
Warning: Unintended fluff...it just wrote itself, really.
Original Prompt: http : / / hetalia - kink . livejournal . com / 20236 . html?thread=78479372#t78479372
"America needs to go to the bathroom at micky ds and has to go to the
bathroom. England happens to be there too and has to go as well (or they
could have gone there together). It is a single stall and both fight
whether who gets to go first, they end up going in together and wind up
having sex instead.
Bonus: The description of how filthy the floor is..used toilet paper scattered around, urine droplets, dirt, cockroaches etc
Bonus 2: There are people waiting outside"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

England let out a sigh as he stared out the grease and finger print stained window. The view was nothing special. A crowded street, filled with rushing cars and pedestrians, not an unusual sight in America, especially in a city like Chicago. Ah, how he yearned for the days where there were no worries about pollution and death by grease clogged arteries…which is how he expected that most of the customers of this particular establishment might go, including his good for nothing boyfriend.

His gaze shifted to the figure sitting across from him upon hearing the oh too familiar sound of slurping, only to be greeted with the sight of his American lover gulping down a large coke. The bright red booth he was sitting at helped to make the brown of his jacket stand out and the blue of his eyes more vibrant.

He let his eyes wonder over his lover's ketchup smudged cheeks, a confusing mixture of disgust and affection knotting in his chest. "The least you could do is wipe your face, idiot." England scuffed, swiping a napkin from the tray and scrubbing the offending spots.

America groaned, his drink effectively interrupted, "I swear, sometimes you're more like a mother than my BF, you gonna eat that?" The younger nation casually pointed to England's half eaten burger.

Ignoring the colloquialism, he narrowed his 'impressive' eyebrows (making them look even more 'impressive') and raised his voice, trying to sound admonishing, "you've already had five!"

"So…you are going to eat it?" his blue eyes were downcast, a pitiful pout on his pink lips.

England sighed again. He just couldn't win, could he? "No, I'm not," he responded, his slightly annoyed expression melting away at the look of delight that spread across America's face. Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder how they got like this. Two hundred years ago he never would have imagined that he'd be in a romantic relationship with the boy that he raised, the man who left him behind.

As he glanced at his lover joyfully gobbling down the last of the greasy sandwich, he became aware of a fluttering in his abdomen, more specifically, in his bladder. "Oh bugger, shouldn't have drank so much tea this morning," he thought to himself. Standing up, he gestured toward the restroom, "Excuse me, love, I need to go syphon the python."

America's eyes widened and he replied, "oh shit, me too!" as though just realizing his own needs after hearing England's announcement. He crumbled up the wrapper, tossing it into the bin as he followed England to the back of the McDonald's.

Their shoulders bumped lightly as they made for the door. Opening it, England was appalled by the room's state. Two stalls out of order and a third that appeared to be stewed in pieces of bog roll and what looked like dried urine. The seat of the toilet was also decorated in stains of unknown origin. The Englishman cringed at the foul smell, briefly looking toward the graffiti coated stall wall with a look of disgust. Of course, while this restroom did further decrease his already low opinion of fast food establishments, it did not relieve his gradually expanding bladder.

Groaning distastefully, he made his way into the stall, stopping abruptly when he felt something grab his wrist. "I want to go first! I really have to go," his lover whined.

England rolled his eyes, "Should have thought of that before you guzzled down four of those large 'cancer-in-a-cup's! Besides, I was here first."

America's brows furrowed, peeved he shot back, "Ha! Well you're just like any other old man, pissing every five minutes!" ignoring his older boyfriend's angry interjection of "it was the tea!" he added, "It'll only take a few seconds."

He tugged England out only to find himself being yanked back just the same and England trying to shove him out of the way, some 'gentleman.' "That's right! And since it'll only take a few seconds, you shouldn't mind being the one to go second." A match consisting of pushing, pulling, and shoving ensued between the two. With their childish fighting and banter, you'd never guess that their age exceeded past their teens, much less several centuries.

Throughout the scuffle, the both of them somehow managed to make it into the stall. England let out a yelp as the back of his skull cracked against the graffitied wall. The struggle immediately stopped and America mumbled an apology as he brought his hand up and ran his fingers through the sandy locks at the back of his lovers head. Looking to the stall door, an idea struck the American. Continuing to stroke England's hair, America shifted, his unoccupied hand closing and latching the door.

England gave America a skeptical smile as he unconsciously leaned into his touch, "What are you up to?"

The younger nation grinned, his blue irises twinkling when he responded, "I changed my mind. You can go first."

Emerald eyes widened slightly, the smile of skepticism fading and a light crimson running across his cheeks, "A little privacy would be nice, love," the Englishman stammered.

"It's not like it's anything that I haven't seen before," America smirked, clearly pleased with England's reaction.

England continued flushing, wanting desperately to leave, but unable to. He wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Mumbling something unintelligible, he turned toward the toilet. After unzipping his trousers and pulling himself out of their confines, he paused. The uncomfortable feeling of being watched was not only distracting, but terribly embarrassing. He turned his head to the side, glancing back at a contemplative looking America. His blue eyes took on a mischievous glint when he caught England shyly staring at him. "Well, go on," he chuckled when he saw England quickly snap his head back forward, the sound of the movement almost audible.

"D-don't rush me." Feeling oddly nervous, but no longer able to hold it in he let loose, a relieved sigh escaping past his lips and his tense muscles relaxing as the pressure in his lower stomach rushed out, the sound echoing through the empty, filthy restroom. Finishing, he shook off his member, and went to push it back into his pants when he then felt his boyfriend's chest pressing against his back, America's larger hand covering his own and stopping him from putting his equipment away.

"Who's rushing?" America purred into England's ear. His hand that was gripping England's shifted, forcing England's hand to stoke up and down his limp cock. He slowly lapped at the back of his lover's neck and could feel a shiver running through England's body as he did so.

Sounding annoyed he snapped, "Didn't you need to use the loo?" England used his free hand to push back on America's hip, in a futile attempt to get him to back off.

However annoyed he sounded, the twitch of his steadily growing penis told America otherwise. He continued to half make England jerk himself off as he peppered the pale neck in front of him with kisses, nips, and licks, relishing in the small gasp that slipped out of his lover when he hit a particularly sensitive spot below his ear. He paused only briefly to answer, "I don't feel like it anymore."

He sighed, giving in and craning his neck to the side to make it easier for his lover to soil his neck with his tongue; this was clearly a battle he wasn't going to win. "…Of course you don't…" England muttered, now rubbing his cock without America's assistance, apparently that hand had better things to do as it was now making it's way up England's shirt to fondle his chest, its brother lazily stroking his inner thigh.

The younger nation hummed into England's neck, evidently no longer in a talking mood. Nibbling on his ear lobe and tweaking one of his nipples, the hand on his thigh made its way back to push England's trousers and boxers further down and then probed at the puckered hole hiding between two white rounded cheeks, one of his fingers gently wiggling inside and pausing until it was comfortably sitting within the heat before starting to pump in and out in a slow and torturous manner.

England groaned as his inner walls were rubbed, he could feel the knuckle of America's finger as it moved past his entrance and pushed back in. He leaned over the toilet, placing his left palm firmly against the wall it was connected to, ignoring the cracks and filth that stained the white tiles beneath his skin. His right hand picked up its pace, stroking his cock to fullness and thumbing the red tip, spreading the precum over the sensitive head.

He looked down into the loo, only after seeing his urine in the bowl did he once again become aware of the strong smell of the bathroom, only now it was coupled with the smell of his own waste and the undeniable scent of sweat and sex emitting from his own and America's bodies. He felt he should be disgusted, as he had been when he first stepped into the grimy McDonald's lavatory, but found that instead of disgusting, the musky scents were more arousing than what he was willing to admit. He grunted as America extracted his finger, and took the opportunity to lower himself down to his knees, trying to avoid looking into the toilet a second time, his palm now on the floor instead of the wall, his legs spread further apart in his new position.

He could tell America was following suit behind him, kneeling on the floor and leaning over his back. He felt America whisper against the rim of his ear, "Just a second." After the mutter, America started rummaging through England's pockets. The American let out a laugh as he took out a condom and a sample packet of lube. "I still can't believe that you carry these around with you."

England could feel the git grinning against his neck, he bristled, "I wouldn't have to if you weren't always going into a rut, you bloody twit." He tried to relax his body, knowing that the next thing that entered would likely be more than just one finger. He shifted his position so that instead of supporting his weight on his palm on the floor, he was now using his entire forearm. To his horror, he noticed something he hadn't before. He didn't know (and didn't want to know) what it was, but he could clearly feel something seeping into the fabric of his sleeve from floor. As soon as he was aware of the wetness on his arm, he also became aware of the way his knees were sticking unnaturally to his pants. He chose to ignore the feeling of his wet arm and sticky knees in favor of concentrating on the feeling of America's now three slick fingers moving and stretching inside of him.

England groaned, the hand that had been pumping his cock now gently fondling his testicles, hoping to draw out his pleasure as long as he could. He faintly heard a zipper being undone and the shuffle of clothing before he felt America's fingers withdraw and his cock-head press up against his ass. He glanced back at his lover, panting.

As he looked at him, his chest clenched, and he briefly regretted that it took them so long to come together like this, to properly communicate with one another and understand that they had been lying to themselves for so many years, afraid of what the truth might mean. Though, even if it took them two centuries, they did realize, they did forgive, and they did come together. No matter how many years passed, where they were, or what form they took, they would be together. A small meaningful smile graced his lips at the thought, a look of pure love and affection glazing over his eyes as he took in the appearance of his lover, looking into his passion filled sapphire orbs.

America grinned, sensing England's good mood. He leaned over, lightly pressing his lips to England's. The angle was awkward, but the feel of the other man's lips against his own was heavenly. He pulled away reluctantly and gave his lover another smile, "ready?" he whispered and slowly pushed the tip of cock into the entrance after England gave a shaky nod.

America's pleasured groan echoed in the small space, it couldn't have been more than two days since the last time he had been inside of England, but damn if it hadn't felt like weeks. He would never be able to have enough of him. He paused, his body shuddering with the effort to not just thrust in all the way. He listened to England's shallow gasps as his body adjusted to the American's girth.

After he thought enough time had passed, America gently began pressing the rest of his length into England, pulling it back out slightly before pressing in again every so often. The slickness of the lube, the tight heat of England's body, his scent, the noises he was making, it wasn't long before America started losing his control; his trusts becoming quicker, jerkier, his hands gripping onto England's hips, his own moans leaving him with reckless abandon. He was in a state of mind where nothing else mattered, the filth of the room, the stickiness of the floor, the fact that they could probably be heard, none of it, all that mattered was England, how he was feeling, how he smelled, and the sounds he was making. There was nothing but England.

England grunted and thrust his hips back into America's, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely reaching his ears over his lover's panting. He gripped his cock firmly as he pumped it clumsily, his climax nearing. The way his hand felt against his heated skin, the way his lover was pounding into him, his thick dick rubbing him in all the right places, the only thing missing was America's mouth on his own. As he imagined the feel of America's tongue and the taste of greasy burgers and carbonated drink, he released, a shiver wracking through his back and loins and his seed staining the already heavily stained floor tiles. He moaned, stroking his member through his orgasm and continued to lazily pump it as he leaned further forward, resting his forehead against his arm as he caught his breath.

America had known right away when England had come, if his moans hadn't given him away, then the way his ass had seized up around him did. He sucked in a breath as the already tight hole became tighter, gripping his cock like a constrictor. He came with final thrust into his satisfied boyfriend and collapsed against his broad back, tiredly huffing against his neck for a few minutes before pulling out and disposing of the condom. He leaned back against the graffitied wall, letting out a contented sigh as he closed his eyes. They quickly shot open when he felt England rubbing at his cock with toilet paper, trying to clean up any mess that had been left behind from his orgasm.

America grinned as he looked at his lovers flushed face, the pink giving a nice contrast to his forest eyes, "Thanks, babe." He chuckled at England's feigned annoyance at the endearment and his cutely mumbled, "not at all" before bending forward and sweeping his tongue across England's closed mouth, a smirk forming as he then licked his own upper lip. He couldn't help but be pleased as England gave a smirk of his own and leaned towards him, lips meeting once again, parting, and tongues entangling. He traced the roof of England's mouth as England mapped out his teeth. Hesitantly, they pulled away, their tongues pressing once more against each other as they separated.

"You taste like grease," England murmured against his lips, half lidded eyes implying that he didn't really mind the taste. America could only hum and smile, rubbing their noses together before, placing one hand to the small of England's back, and unlatching the door with the other.

They exited the stall, both making a note to be face to face the next time they made love, and washed their hands.

As they went to exit the restroom, it became quite apparent that perhaps they'd been quite a bit louder, or perhaps the echo carried quite a bit farther, than what they had thought or noticed. Standing outside the door was a very miffed looking McDonald's manager and a couple of amused looking officers…Even if they were going to spend a night or two in jail for lewd conduct, at least they'd still be together.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hope you enjoyed it.

Pimping my own request again since it hasn't been filled yet.
http : / / hetalia - kink . livejournal . com / 20236 . html?thread=78120716#t78120716