Hetalia oneshots

Chapter 4 usuk

The American ceased his hammering yet again and with an irritated groan jerked his head in the uptight and bossy Briton's direction; ready to give the man a piece of his mind, but before he could utter a single word his breath hitched. America's face turned a dark scarlet red. He became flustered and trembled in disbelief at the glorious sight in front of him. England smirked at America's somewhat expected reaction. I mean who could blame the American? No matter what others might say, England was undoubtedly the sexiest thing to ever walk the planet. Screw frog face and that blasted tomato munching bastard. He was the true sex symbol of Europe. Too preoccupied with his mental boasting, the Briton failed to realize the tall American approaching him. A surprised squeak escaped his lips as masculine hands seemed to suddenly explore his body. England would deny the fact that he blushed at the attention. The man gulped as he watched America's hands roam from his chest, teasingly playing with his nipples before making his way lower and lower.

"W-What are you doing you dumb git?!" England hissed as America's hands managed to make it to his waist. American frowned.

"What does it look like? Now shut up. The sound of your annoying nagging voice totally kills my boner." America shot back in annoyance, before planting wet kisses all over England's soft chest and stomach. England shivered in pleasure at the feeling and began to nibble on his bottom lip to prevent himself from making any embarrassing sounds. "Damn. Your skin kinda feels like a woman's." he laughed.

The Briton gave the man a devilish smirk. "Like you know what a woman feels like. Virgin." For a second even England would admit how terrifying the glare America gave him was, but England brushed off the threatening expression with a chuckle. "What's with that look, poppet? It terrifies me."

"Hmph. I'd rather be a virgin than the slut of Europe." America countered while releasing the slim male in disgust. The Briton rolled his eyes. He had nothing to say to that. How could he deny the truth? Well it was somewhat the truth. Damn his delinquent and rock n roll faze. It was a long time ago. Why can't everyone get over it already?

"Whatever." The Englishman stated nonchalantly. Seeing as the American was no longer in the mood to play and now bored, England made his way into the living room and threw his lithe form onto the couch. Naked and all. The man then grabbed his cigarette pack from the coffee table and lit one up, despite the well-known fact America despised the smell. 5 minutes passed by then 10 and England grew annoyed with the silence. The television program he turned on earlier long forgotten. "Oi brat. You're being awfully quiet. Did I hurt your feelings? Are you perhaps crying?" the Briton chuckled mischievously at the thought of a big muscular and dreadfully sexy man like America crying over being called a virgin. "Brat! You know it's rude to—" He pulled another cigarette from the pack, before lighting it. "—ignore someone who's talking to you."

"Shut up." America ordered before snatching the cigarette from England's lips and putting it out on an abandoned soda can sitting on the coffee table. "You're being really obnoxious. Not to mention you've failed to clean up this place. I mean look at it! And are you planning to put on clothes anytime soon, because as much as you would like it to be this aint a whore house!" America hollered angrily. England yawned and gazed around while wearing an uninterested expression. The floor was littered with empty snack bags, dirty tea cups rested wherever they could fit and somehow the breakfast explosion from the kitchen made its way on the living floor and couches.

"Your house. Your mess."

"My foot. Your ass!" America bit back through gritted teeth.

England narrowed his eyes. Furious green orbs met enraged blue ones. "Why don't you call your little girlfriend Hungary to come and clean it for you?!" The Briton knew he was being childish and unreasonable, but he didn't care. He was too stubborn to care. So what if America had a thing going with Hungary, it was none of his business. America was more than old enough to start dating and he technically was still a teenager. But out of all the people he could have chosen why her? Hungary was a sweetheart. Plus she was fearsomely strong, gorgeous to boot, but she was older. Older than the Briton himself. Maybe America just preferred older lovers, but if that was the case wouldn't he suffice? Even though he hated bringing his age into discussion, the Englishman was basically the epiphany of 'graceful aging'. England wasn't currently as strong or as good-looking as Hungary but dammit all that didn't mean he shouldn't be considered. He was a former empire for bloody sake, better than any wench!