A/N- Oh boy, it's been about a year since I last posted anything, and I've had this oneshot started since April-ish... I'm so sorry about that! I started this massive RP with a friend of mine and it completely dominated my writing and sucked all my creative juices dry until I finally got my arse in gear to finish this. ^^;

Anyway this is pretty much just your basic PWP smut, so enjoy! XD

Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia. (Or McDonalds)

Warnings: yaoi, UKUS (in that order), PWP, NSFW, lemon, smut, (sorta graphic detail- I tried to be as graphic as possible)

ooo

Rain

America rolled back on the bed, a cheeky grin spread wide across his face. His usually relatively tidy (note the use of the word 'relatively' here) dirty blond hair was a mess, strewn about across the stiff fabric of the pillows of England's bed.

Ah yes, England's bed, in England's bedroom, in England's OCD-neat little house on the outskirts of London, in rainy old England. It was even raining now, in fact. America could hear the ominous thrum of driving rain outside the window, beating against the ground and glass. It was surprisingly loud, indicating it was practically a monsoon out there. Hell, England himself had even commented on it.

"God, it's really chucking it down out there…" the lighter blond commented, turning his head to look towards the window as he climbed over the American's body and placed his hands on the man's knees to pull them apart. The deep maroon curtains were pulled shut, of course, but his eyes went in that direction anyway, as if he could see the rain.

"Why're you so surprised?" America asked cockily, wriggling himself around to get more comfortable. "Isn't it always raining here?"

"Not usually this heavily..." England responded, completely ignoring the jibe in America's remark. His voice was distant, and he still seemed distracted by the weather.

Well, that wouldn't do at all. America wanted the man to be distracted by him, not by some boring-ass slightly acidic water.

"Dude come ooooon!" he whined, wiggling deliberately on the covers to garner some attention. They'd gotten this far, he didn't want to be ignored now. England should have learnt long ago that he was a needy person! He should know better than to disregard him! After all, he'd even agreed to take it up the arse! They'd argued for ten whole minutes on the matter! Ten minutes! It had only ended when England had agreed to a very steep set of compromises in return for being the pitcher, including treating America to all-he-could-eat at McDonald's with the Englishman footing the bill, and the promise of being allowed to top the self-proclaimed gentleman for the next six months.

So of course, America expected nothing less than England's full attention on top of that.

"Yes, yes, hold your horses. There's no need to rush," the Brit replied, frowning slightly at America's impatience. He couldn't stand it when people felt the need to rush things, particularly sex, and since he'd been forced to endure the American's rushed foreplay and shove-it-in-shove-it-out-as-fast-as-I-can-straight-off-the-bat style of sex multiple times before, he was determined to teach the man that it was often better, and more enjoyable, not to hurry some things.

America just folded his arms and pouted. "No need to be mean either…" he muttered, turning his head away.

England opened his mouth with a retort, and for a second he seriously considered snapping at the other man, but then he realised that being snarky would get him nowhere, certainly not into America's deliciously tight arse, so it may be better to apologise, or, if his ego couldn't take it, simply distract him.

England decided he didn't want to end up as the one taking the blame for being in the wrong, so rather than saying sorry, he gave an 'apology' in the form of gently spreading the American's tanned legs a little further apart and bending down to trail his tongue up the underside of the blond's cock, reaching one hand round to grip it firmly since their arguing had killed America's boner somewhat.

The owner of the penis in question let out a startled yelp at that. He hadn't been expecting England to do that at all, not when they'd been in the middle of a minor row! And now here he was licking up and down his dick and really doing a thorough job of that and ohhhhh… it felt so good…

"Uhhhhnnngggg…" America moaned, his head sinking back into the pillows and his eyes falling shut. England's tongue on him just sent waves of pleasure rising up from his nether regions with every lap, the soothing, warm, wet strokes of that muscle doing terrible things to his body. It was heavenly.

But England didn't want America to just fall back into Nirvana and be done with it. Oh no. He wanted America to get riled up, begging to be fucked and into it. The smirk that therefore twisted his features around that ever-incessant tongue was, somewhat stereotypically, reminiscent of the Cheshire cat's, and it only widened as he at last paused his languid laps, only to move his head a few inches higher, breath now the only thing warming the darker-tinged skin of the American's erection, and poked his tongue back out, tip meeting tip as he teased the end. The tiny point of contact was tormenting to America, who let out a whining, almost agonised groan. It was like having an ice lolly and only being allowed to lick one small corner of it; he was getting a taste of the pleasure, but so little it drove him out of his mind.

"Ahhhh eurghhhh…. come ooooon Englannnnd…." he pleaded, voice sliding between a groan and whine as his head rolled back and forth across the lush, almost silken texture of the pillows. Strands of blond hair criss-crossed and strewn across them, and tanned fingers sunk deeper into the matching fabric of the bedsheets, knuckles whitening as nails folded themselves under the duvet to grip it as if there were no tomorrow.

The American's hips bucked up a little, despite the firm hand England had placed upon the joint. His grip there was somewhat rough; his fingers dug just slightly too tightly into the muscle and fat for America's comfort, though the sensations of pure pleasure shooting up and down his dick in little jolts at every lick and act of stimulation all but drowned it out. Lusty blue eyes, half-concealed by their lids, gazed up almost pleadingly at the Brit when the American craned his neck to lift his head and get a better view, and a slight groan escaped from his lips.

But oh what a view it was. In that moment, America couldn't think of a more delicious and glorious sight. Well, except for maybe a large Big Mac meal with extra fries, a large ice-cold coke and maybe even a 20 McNugget share box on the side (all for himself, of course). But other than that, England right then was the most wonderful picture in all of existence.

His light blond hair was messed up a bit, left untidy from the removal of their clothes and some earlier foreplay, and it hung down over his forehead and eyes, the ends brushing over his skin whenever the Englishman bobbed his head down to do something further, and causing little shivers and goosebumps to run over the skin of America's pelvic area. Despite their concealment, the American imagined England's eyes would be lusty, a darker shade of green than their normal field-coloured tint, half lidded and eating up the sight of his cock. The thought alone sent tingles running up his dick, and his tongue licked over his lips in anticipation.

Speaking of lips, since America had so nicely begged, England's own were busy shaping themselves around the hardened flesh of his lover's cock, dragging up and down the skin, slightly swollen from kissing a while beforehand. Not that America minded or even cared about that fact when England's mouth, the mouth that produce such a beautiful accent in his mind that he practically squealed inside every time he heard it, had encased him in such a delicious, wet heat that he felt himself beginning to come then and there. His balls were tightening, he could tell, and it took all over the American's willpower to force his own mouth to pant out, "S-stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!" in a quick and hurried plea as his hands shooed England's head from his pubes. "I-I was gonna c-come!"

England wiped his mouth with a smirk as he leaned back. "So soon? Either I give a pretty damn good blowjob or you're the most premature person in the world…" He couldn't resist the teasing comment, despite the pouting face that America gave him for it.

"Shut up, jackass!" was the retort the American settled upon, propping himself up on his elbows and frowning at the man above him. However, this only caused England to laugh, a surprisingly light and genuine laugh which always made America's heart melt, and then smirk once more as the replied, "If that's the best use you can make of your mouth then I can suggest a much better one that involves it meeting with my dick."

America's frown deepened, but he wasn't genuinely mad. England was only teasing, and it certainly wasn't with malicious intent. Plus he'd just given him a blowjob, so he couldn't exactly complain. So he simply folded his arms with an overdramatic sigh and nodded over to the bottle of lube on the bedside table.

"Just hurry up and put it in me, dude! Jeez, don't be such a slowpoke!"

England rolled his eyes but followed America's advice, crawling off him for a moment to retrieve the bottle. As he did so, America shifted himself on the bed, not wanting to stay cramped in the same position for too long, and stretched his legs out for a moment, straightening his knees whilst he listened to England mumble under his breath. He didn't catch every word, but he was pretty certain it went something along the lines of, 'I am not a slowcoach. There's no need to rush sex…'

America bent and spread his legs again, however, when England returned to the bed, one thumb flipping the lid of the bottle as he resumed his earlier position. As he squeezed some of the bottle's contents out over his fingers, rubbing them together to thoroughly coat them in the substance and warm it, his eyes darted back out to the window again, and his hearing focussed once more on the sound of the rain. A tiny frown creased between his brows, and he bit his lip slightly in concern.

"It's so heavy…" he murmured, as he subconsciously reached one finger towards America's arsehole.

Of course, the American didn't like this lapse in attention again. "So what?" he responded, even though he knew the comment hadn't been directed at him. "It's just a bit of rain! I mean, come on!"

England's head snapped back round at that, and his finger froze with just the tip touching against the very edge of the American's anticipating hole. "Idiot!" he snapped, and for the first time that night he seemed genuinely angry. "Didn't you know they issued a flood warning earlier? I'm worried about that rain!"

America flinched. Oh. He hadn't known. It had never crossed his mind that rain could be a problem in England. They got so much of it, right? They must be used to it. But no, he'd been wrong. England was genuinely concerned for his people, and America had once again completely failed to read the atmosphere.

"O… oh…" was all he could say.

"Oh indeed," England growled back, green eyes boring into America's as he judged the blond's level of guilt. He stayed like that for a long time, watching the wide, quivering blue eyes as they darted around, flicking from his hand to his face to his mouth to his eyes…

And at last he sighed.

How could he have expected anything less? This was America through and through. He should have known that by now. It was to be expected, and he seemed sorry, and so in England's heart he was already forgiven.

Letting out another sigh, the Englishman closed his eyes and leaned down, pressing his forehead against America's. His skin was warm, and he gently nuzzled his nose against the American's.

"It's okay. I should know better than to expect…" He let out a quiet chuckle. "To expect… your 'elevator to go to the top floor'…"

America wasn't sure if that was a compliment or what, but he laughed all the same.

"Hahaha, so does that mean we can have the sexytimes now?"

England rolled his eyes as the finger which had been poised at the American's arsehole suddenly pushed its way inside. A sudden squeak came from the man beneath him, and he grinned. "Oh America…" he tutted almost mischievously. "When will you ever learn to stop being so crude?"

"The day you learn to cook, old man," came America's cocky response, accompanied by a flash of his signature grin. His reward, so to speak, for that was a rough thrust of England's fingers, and he flinched again, though it was totally worth it for the jibe.

After that, England went more gently, curling his finger slightly to rub against the warm walls of America's insides and ensure they were thoroughly coated with lube. America was quite content to lie back throughout all this, groaning every now and again at the sensation and lifting his hips up to get even more of the pleasure every time England brushed against him.

After a little while, England slipped a second lube-coated finger in alongside the first, drinking in the sight as America's hips spasmed slightly and he readjusted himself to accommodate the extra intrusion.

"You haven't done this in a while… You're quite tight," he commented, craning his head down to press a few kisses to America's stomach whilst he worked. America simply snorted.

"No duh. I mean-" He reached a hand around and cupped himself some English backside. "Unf! Dat ass! Who wouldn't want some of that? !"

This made England chuckle, his fingers quivering inside America, and he responded, "It's nice to know you think so highly of my arse. But now…" He retracted his fingers and reached for the lube bottle again, pouring some onto his already slick hand and smearing it onto his cock. "Let's see how lovely yours is, shall we?"

America flashed him a grin. Finally, they were getting to the main event! He lifted his head a little and watched as England grasped himself and lined his dick up, the tip brushing against America's now quivering hole. The American allowed his eyes to drift shut at that, focussing entirely on the sensation and strange tingles of pleasure that sent shivers down his spine, his head tipping back. Slowly he began to feel more stretched, something warm and slick and foreign sliding into his arse. It was a fair size too, England had never been particularly small, and he grunted a bit as he tried to adjust and relax. It hurt a bit, after all he was being impaled with a large piece of man-meat, but it wasn't too bad, and as he felt the warmth radiating from England's body increase as the man leaned over him and tried to remain still, he slowly began to adjust.

After a few seconds, he felt the bed rock and England move, as the smaller man pulled almost all the way out of him and then slowly slid back in. This wasn't too bad; he was still in a bit of pain, but this slower pace was pleasurable, and he let out a low moan, legs lifting to wrap around England's waist.

The Englishman pulled his hips back again, rocking their bodies together at a slow pace. He wanted to make this as good for America as possible, since the other had a tendency to be a little rougher with him, and the better he did, the more likely it would be that he could top again in the future. His hands roamed up and down America's sides as he slowly slid himself in and out, the shlick shlick of the lube and the slap slap of his balls hitting America's arse, along with their breathing and occasional moans, filling the air.

It wasn't too long until America got used to this slow pace, and began to crave more. His hands had slid up England's back to stroke and hold on there, but now he bucked his hips a little as well, trying to drive England deeper and urge him on to a quicker tempo. The Englishman quickly got the message and, truthfully, was grateful. He was beginning to reach the limit of how long he could take going so slowly, and happily picked up speed, jerking their bodies back and forth as his hips thrust faster, slamming his cock into America's arsehole harder, whilst the eager ring of muscles there swallowed him up as he tried to go deeper and deeper.

America moaned harder at this new pace, his cock fully erect and rubbing against England's chest every now and again when the Brit leaned down far enough. "Fuck… England…" he grunted, a sudden "Ah!" wrenched from his lips as the Englishman's hand slunk between their bodies and found its way to his cock, gripping it tightly and pumping up and down in time with his thrusts. The rain continued to hammer down outside, but neither of the men noticed now, far too preoccupied with the carnal pleasure they were extracting from one another. England was drowning in the feeling of his dick being compressed and clamped down upon inside America, the heat that surrounded him and the feeling of America's cock in his hand, warm and hard, yet soft too, and oh so malleable in his grasp. Meanwhile, America was in pure bliss, breathing hard and grabbing England tighter, revelling in the jolts of ecstasy that shot from both his arse and his penis. It was good, oh so good, and even better than when England had been sucking him off. Every thrust brought a new wave of euphoria crashing down upon him and soon enough he felt his orgasm approaching again, though this time the only words that came out of his mouth were, "E-england… I'm going… to cum…" before his hips jerked and his legs tightened around England's waist, heels digging into the man's back as he finally orgasmed, ejaculating onto England's sweat-beaded chest with a groan. Every spurt that came from him sent a jolt of pleasure shooting down from his dick, and it was all he could do to squeeze his eyes tightly shut and let out a loud, deep moan from the very core of his being.

England's eyes drank in the sight of America falling over the edge beneath him, and let out a gasp as the action cause the muscles in the American's arse to clamp down upon his cock. The extra pressure almost sent him teetering into orgasm too, but he held on for a few thrusts longer, whilst America panted and tried to regain his breath, before he too came.

America's eyes remained shut, but at last fluttered open again when he felt a sudden emptiness where he had been filled before, and the warm body climbed off him, collapsing down beside him instead and sending the whole bed rocking.

"Bloody hell…" came the out of breath comment, and America laughed breathily, rolling over onto his side to wrap an arms around England and snuggle into his side. Green eyes glanced down at him curiously for a moment, before the Englishman placed an arm over America's and rested his head against the other blond's, eyes falling half-closed.

"Are you still so keen on being on top?" he asked. The question was mostly teasing, though he was mildly curious as well.

America paused and thought about that for a moment. As he did so, the steady, rhythmic pounding of rain acted as a makeshift soundtrack to fill the silence. Pitter patter pitter patter pittter patter.

"Hells yeah!" he finally said, before promptly falling asleep.