Sunday, February 27, 2011

An England Lemon -- Very Important Interruptions

Character: England

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

OC: Emma Marie Wolfe, France’s adopted sister

Inspiration: America being an idiot~


The first time I met England was during a conference my adoptive older brother France had to attend. As it was no place for a lady – or so my brother claimed – I waited outside the room until it had ended. But patient I was not, and am still not, and I ended up ruining the meeting by literally falling into the room and calling Italy a tomato head.

I hadn’t meant to make him cry, of course, but it really was the first thing that popped into my own head when I saw his hair. And then, of course, I had gone on in an attempt to apologize to him, which only make him cry harder when I accidentally insulted him again.

Needless to say, my big brother France was not pleased with me, and neither were a great amount of other countries who claimed I had rudely interrupted their very important discussion. But the one who said that was so busy chomping his way through a hamburger that I doubted he even knew what the word ‘important’ meant.

Now that I thought of it, I interrupted big important events on a daily basis. For some reason, I would always walk in on something I shouldn’t be seeing. For instance, big brother France would often bring women into his bedchamber. I wouldn’t know, but yet I’d still manage to interrupt them in their...ahem, endeavors. It was terribly bad luck. (But usually the type of women France brought home were willing to expose their boldness. So they didn’t really care that I’d catch the two in the act...)

But France’s lovers aside, I’d find myself in the most awkward situations without even realizing how I got there. Last time it was Germany in the bathroom. This time...well, I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. All I knew was that England and America were having a row. And that was never a good thing.

When America left in a huff and a small glare shot at England, I felt even more uncomfortable than before. Confused and bewildered, I took a step toward England, who was sitting at his desk with a perturbed look adorning his face.

England? Is there something wrong?” I asked, tilting my head in curiosity. He only sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Nothing, Emma – just America being a complete fascist idiot again,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he looked up at me. He indeed looked exhausted, and in need of some rejuvenation.

I grinned cheekily and shrugged, waltzing over to his desk and saying, “Well, that’s not anything new, really. But you look like you need some relaxation. Care for a massage?”

He looked slightly taken aback by my question, but a soft smile appeared on his face nonetheless. I twisted the spinning chair he was sitting on so that the back was facing me, and sat on the desk. I had a feeling that, as I leaned down to unbutton the first three buttons of his shirt, England was enjoying the attention. His eyes drifted to a close as I maneuvered around the fabric of his shirt and sunk my hands into the taut muscles of his shoulders.

He relaxed almost instantly, rolling his head back and sighing. I giggled, leaned down to kiss his cheek gently, and promptly ignored him as he blushed and stared. If there was one thing I enjoyed doing, it was embarrassing England. (Probably because he was so easily embarrassed.)

By the time I had finished working out the kinks in his shoulders, neck, and upper back, a plan was already formulating through my head. It was an evil, sly plan that would surely be worth it, and embarrass England at the same time. I grinned and reached around England to undo the rest of his shirt. He stiffened, but did not object as I pulled it from his figure. It dropped to the floor in a soft heap of wrinkled fabric.

My hands moved to caress his chest, taking great heed of the way his breathing was picking up. He was feeling uncomfortable, but yet pleased. I could tell, because I often spent time around England when brother France wasn’t around. I knew England better than anyone else, sadly enough.

I gently kissed his ear, licking the outside and then breathing softly on the conjuncture of his neck. He shivered, and spoke shakily, “...Em...what are you trying to do...?”

My lips curled into a cunning smirk, and I abruptly pulled away and spun the chair back around. With England now facing me, I could easily detect the traces of desire in his eyes. I giggled, and ran my fingers through his hair, “...I’m seducing you, silly,” and then I kissed him.

England was so shocked that he didn’t know what to do. After a few seconds of no response, England finally began moving his lips with mine in a soft kiss. I quickly made it deeper, and my hands went back to my own body to pull my shirt off. England took one look at my revealing form and seemed to snap.

In an instant, I was in his lap, being pushed into his chest as his lips danced over mine in a fiery kiss. I was gasping for breath by the time he had pulled away.

His lips were now attacking my neck, in a gentle barrage of nips and licks. I tilted my head back and moaned. Without even realized what I was doing, I began grinding into England’s lap, and I quickly began feeling the result of it pushing right back against me.

England groaned, eyes tightly shut as though in pain, and he muttered huskily, “Damn it, Emma. Why are you torturing me...?!”

I had a feeling England was under some sort of delusion, for I didn’t think torturing was the right word. Here I was, on top of him, and we were both topless. I think that counted for something more than just ‘torture’. I merely grinned at England and got up from his lap, pushing his chair back a few feet and waiting until he opened his eyes before I began striping.

Since he was obviously too formal to start anything – even though we had already started something – I would just have to be the catalyst. After slipping out of my bra, I turned my attention to my pants. They came off just as easily. When I was in nothing but my panties, I looked up to see England’s expression.

It wasn’t something I was expecting, for sure. I thought I’d see his cheeks much redder than they were, or his eyes squeezed shut as they had been moments before. But he was only staring at me, eyes drinking in my practically naked figure. There was a determined look in those green eyes, and it made me shiver in excitement.

I raised an eyebrow at him, and that seemed to set him off. England lurched from his chair, tugging his pants off just as he reached my lips. Kissing furiously and attempting to strip oneself at the same time was quite difficult. I giggled at England’s failing attempts. Leaning down slightly, I helped him out of his uniform, finally setting him free before cheekily smiling up at him.

He rolled his eyes, “You French are all the same; no shame.”

My eyes laughed as I pulled off my final article of clothing, taking pride in the way England’s face twisted in satisfaction as he watched.

“Technically, I’m not actually French. I only grew up with him,” I corrected smartly, and then promptly laid back onto the desk after shoving England’s paperwork to the floor.

The man scoffed, but said no more – for he was already crawling on top of me and beginning his ministrations once more on my body. I was twisting and writhing in pleasure by the time he had stopped touching and kissing me.

Positioning his erect manhood at my entrance, he slid into me, and I was filled with a sensation I had never before felt. I’d had sex before, but it felt nothing like this. This was purely bliss; a complete and unending cycle of ultimate relief. To have him so close felt like a dream come to life. I thought I had died an gone to heaven.

But even that feeling could not amount to what I felt when he began moving. Let’s just say I had a feeling that most of the building heard what ensued. England didn’t seem to care – he contributed to the noise just as much as I.

Pounding into me, the desk shook. The remaining papers flew off. I vaguely wondered if the door was locked, and didn’t think it was. Hopefully, no one would be stupid enough to walk in. (The noises we were making made it clear of our actions.)

England leaned down and captured my lips with his. I moaned loudly into his mouth as my orgasm began flying through me. Hips bucking continuously, I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and arched my back. My breasts pushed into his chest, and his face screwed up in pleasure as he rushed to catch up to me.

It wasn’t long before we let ourselves go. With one last exuberant pump, England let out a strangled groan that he muffled in my neck, and I tangled my fingers into his hair as I moaned loudly. Mere seconds later, England was collapsing on me and everything was finished. Panting, I looked down at him and grinned, “I hope no one heard that.”

But we both knew that it was impossible for people not to have heard. England chuckled against my neck, and murmured softly, “I just hope your brother doesn’t kill me for ravishing you.”

I scoffed gently, running my fingers through his hair as he closed his eyes in peace, “Don’t worry. I have plenty of blackmail to use against him if he even tries.”

England chuckled again.
~~~

6 comments:

  1. My god
    That was.....
    Anyways would u mind doing one for Hong Kong? I would appreciate it

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  2. Oh.. i know what France would saaay~!

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  3. Can u plssssss do one for 2p Japan??? ♡♡♡

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  4. thats awkward moment when your name is Emma xD but still it was awesome.

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  5. And if they did, we gon be in some trouble >//<

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