Regarding 400 follower requests! I'll need some time to get the Dragon Age requests done, then I'll post an update for the next request session. I'm thinking I'll need a couple weeks before then, just to keep you all updated. Also I need time to make it as epic as possible ;)

Friday, December 20, 2013

A Scotland Lemon -- Tempered


Character: Scotland

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: Mave Jones, quirky, optimistic

Inspiration:  Coat Closet~  And what the heck is Scotland's actual name?!  I'm so freaking confused right now!  


Mave wasn't expecting this.  That is, she was totally fine at the prospect of being enclosed in a dark, small space with Ian.  The only problem was that they were in a coat closet and people kept unknowingly dumping their coats on them. 
"Don't you think this is a little extreme?" Mave asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  The darkness was sheer and tangible, and her lover's shrouded expression was barely visible.  The only reason she could even see him at all was because she was close, very close, pressed up between the wall and his body.
He smirked casually and she felt him shrug.  His hands drifted over her thighs, feeling her up and enjoying the way she shivered into him.  The dress she was wearing had long been shoved up around her waist, but the silky fabric still managed to cause a bit of a hindrance to Ian, who kept pushing it back, back, back, farther up her body so as to see more of her.  She let him, only a little bit embarrassed about their predicament.  The darkness helped her, made her feel bolder, like she was more experienced than she actually was.  In any case, spending their evening smashed up against each other in that tiny space was much nicer than spending it with the other nations. 
The annual Christmas party raged outside the door, in full swing, and Ian chuckled darkly.  "I told you not to wear stockings.  They're in my way."  She gave him a look that he probably didn't see and wiggled her hips.  He made a soft noise when she did, because she managed to press herself closer to his core.  With her legs wrapped up around his waist like they were, it wasn't exactly difficult.
"It's a formal party, Ian," she whispered to him, "I needed to wear them."  And, because he was still grumbling about the other offenses he'd discovered about her (she had to wear a bra with her dress, said dress was too long), Mave took the situation into her own hands as she pushed up from the wall and kissed him.
He sank into her immediately, and quickly took control of the kiss.  All at once, Mave was pressed fiercely into the wall.  His hips pinned hers down, his hands heaved her legs farther up his waist, his tongue roughly spun over hers, tasting every inch of her before she could so much as breath.  The heady sensation of his touch worked its way up through her head and made her feel like she was falling.  Falling through the air, the window, right up into the snowy sky itself.
She clawed uselessly at his chest and finally clutched at his collar.  Heat began pooling through her body, making her pulse and ache.  But it was nothing, nothing compared to what she felt when Ian began rolling his hips into hers.  And the hardness of his growing erection, pressed against the ever so thin fabric of her stockings and panties, made her cry out quietly and throw her head back.
Ian followed her, not breaking the kiss.  When he dominated her, he did so completely.  Utterly.  With all the power that he was afforded when she made him into a horny, needy lover.  And she loved it, loved him when he got like that.  Though perhaps that particular moment wasn't the best time for him to want her quite so badly.
The closet door opened just a little bit, just enough for a hand to reach in and toss another coat onto the rack before the door swung shut once more.  Her and Ian were behind the door, out of sight, but the fact that their intimate moment could all too easily be stolen away made Mave more than a little uneasy.  She certainly didn't like the thought of being caught, especially not in the position they were in. 
Ian broke the kiss and glanced lazily at the door.  He smirked and turned back to her, as though waiting for her to tell him that this wasn't happening.  That she was definitely not letting him take this any further.  She should have told him no before, the moment he'd caught her wrist and pulled her into the closet, the moment he'd pushed her sinfully up against the wall and kissed her.  And yet…saying no to Ian wasn’t so simple.  He had a way of making her regret denying him anything.  And then he also had a way of rewarding her for saying yes. 
His lips pushed up against her neck.  His hands shifted over her body, sliding up her stomach to touch her breasts.  He didn't try to remove her dress, but his muted touch still made her burn with desire.  With more of that growing need, which he obviously felt as well.  She tightened her legs around his waist and drew him in closer, molding his heat with hers, his flesh against her flesh.  He moaned and the sound of it was so husky and wicked that Mave had to tell herself to breathe.
"Damn it, lass," he muttered, fingertips searing against her stocking-ed legs.  He wanted to unwrap her slowly, worship every piece of her as it was revealed to him.  And though the danger of their situation was undoubtedly delicious, enough to turn him on in such a small amount of time, Ian wanted to see her.  Hear her moaning.  Watch her come.  But he would have to make do.
He kissed her deeply, fingers flying over her body.  The sensitive way she reacted to his touch was what ultimately spurred him on.  And then, before Mave really knew what he was doing, the sound of ripping fabric alerted her to Ian's mischief. 
"Ian!" she softly cried, pouting at him through the dark.  Her stockings were torn, but still wearable.  He'd ripped a lewd hole into them just near her core.  It was so obvious what he intended, and Mave was stuck with the desire to both laugh and yell at him.  "We don't have time - "
"Give me twenty minutes, lass," he muttered to her, his voice dark and sinful.  She heard him fiddle with his belt, and then suddenly his throbbing member was pressed between her thighs.  And when she looked down at it, Mave couldn't deny the desire that flushed through her.  She wasn't as ready as she normally would have been, but they really didn't have time to remedy that.  She looked back up at him, blushing, and Ian gave her a slightly reassuring smirk.  Slightly reassuring, because mostly it was just teeth.  Dangerous, insipid, hungry.
He kissed her again and dragged his fingers over her core, pushing her panties aside to feel her heat.  "You're wet enough," he muttered against her mouth, and opened his eyes to look at her.  All at once, Mave was taken aback by the questioning look in his gaze, like he was asking her if this was okay, if she was alright with letting him be greedy just for tonight, just tonight.  She felt herself warm at the thought of him making sure she was alright, and leaned in to kiss him.  Perhaps it wasn't the ideal place to make love.  But turning him away at this point would only make her regret it for the rest of the evening and possibly longer.  Besides, how many people can admit to having sex in a coat closet during a huge party?
Ian grinned and kissed her harder, rolling his hips into her once more.  She moaned, breathless.  Her fingers clutched him.  She wanted him then, more than ever.  Wanted to see how far they could go before they were missed.  Wanted to taste more of that danger, that dark, dark desire.  "I love you," he whispered, barely coherent, and Mave opened her eyes to look at him, surprised.
He'd told her before, once or twice, but it wasn't exactly a phrase that Ian allowed himself to say often.  So Mave was more than just surprised to hear it now, in this cramped space.  She laughed lightly and her hips surged forwards as if to remind him.  He hissed a little and his eyes fluttered.  He frowned at her and muttered, "You're supposed to say that you love me back."  He scoffed and lined himself up, pushing his tip into her entrance.
Mave unfurled at the contact, her back arching up and up and up, her eyes widening as he sheathed himself completely within her.  Her soul was a sky.  Her heart was a sun.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned gently into him as he began thrusting her farther up the wall.  And against his mouth, she whispered, "I love you, I love you…I love you."  And Ian closed his eyes and let her words and her body wash over him, drawing him deeply into the sort of love he never thought he'd ever feel.
It was wicked, sinful, but somehow so innocent that it made them feel younger than they were, youthful.  Like the snow that fell just outside the windows.  Like the gentle sway of Christmas music drifting from beneath the closet door.  Tempestuous but pure.
The other nations didn't seem to miss them.  They'd gotten away scot free, as Ian enjoyed whispering to her with an amused chuckle.  And when the party came to an end and that nations began gathering themselves up to return home, Mave found Ian by the coat closet, a vivid smirk on his face as he waited for her.
"I'm not done with you tonight," he casually told her, taking her hand and piercing her through with a dark look of muted desire.  And she laughed, moving closer to him as they walked toward the door.
"I'm not done with you, either," she said.  And the mischievous look she sent him rivaled his own in every single way.

~~~

3 comments:

  1. Scotland, being a fan-made character, has quite a few names he goes by in the fandom.
    The two most popular ones that I'e stumbled across in my days of Scotland-obsession, though, are Allistor (spelled as such, not as Alastor) and Ian.
    Whichever name you use in these stories should be fine, though. I don't think anyone minds, just so long as you keep writing as beautifully as ever. :)

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    1. Thanks for your reply :) I've gotten a few emails from people who prefer 'Allistor', but I like the name 'Ian' better. :3

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    2. It's so hard to read when I'm automatically changing Ian to Allistor XD it's still awesome though

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