[UKFr] If I Can Go Back...

Chapter 2: Is He Someone I Know?

France refused to utter words and instead, he shifted his gaze away from the Brit because of what had happened earlier. The captain of the ship was peeved at the other’s sudden demeanour, but he knew he would get used to it soon. “Why not try and let me see what you can do, yes?”

The younger maize one shuddered in surprise; it certainly caught his attention. “What...do you mean?”

“Do me. You do know what I was trying to imply, no? To my cabin.” England went ahead, telling France to follow him.

At first, he was hesitating if he should do the trick, but he found out that the ship was already moving. This left him with no choice and just followed what the higher-up had ordered him to do so.

Knowing that the Frenchman fell on the Brit’s trap, he grinned evilly. His face didn’t know how to react; if he wanted to be happy about it or pity him.

Not a few walks were wasted; they both reached the captain’s cabin. England sat on his blanch-quilted cloud-fluffy bed as he unconsciously bounced a bit and waited for the Frenchman to approach him. “Do it now. I don’t like waiting.” The pirate was actually expecting him to do the first move, which France was hesitating to do.

France headed towards the middle of the captain’s legs, sat on the ground and spread it a bit.

Verdant hues were scanning him surely, as England flashed that evil grin back to his scary lips. It was even scarier to have that kind of smile drawn there.

Both of them were unaware that one of the crews opened the door, which creaked a bit and watched the scene. The light emitted by the moon entered the little hole, which was made by the crew. Finger-uncountable dusts were joining with the light too. His eyes grew in excitement and surprise, as he had a hint on what was about to happen. He stayed at the door and listened to it carefully.

The unzipping of his pirate pants echoed around the room with the crew able to hear it. When France pulled out England’s ‘being’ out from its ‘hay’, it was superbly hard. His vivid blue orbs blinked in shock.

“Hurry up and suck it.”

Hearing those words made the Frenchman raise his eyebrow invisibly. He could just leave him there feeling so aroused that he could touch himself if ever the little male would do that. I can swim. But the matter there was, the ship was too far from the shore and there were crews patrolling around the ship. He couldn’t escape here without a scratch landed on him, or even without getting his dead body represented right before the captain’s eyes.

But he fears death.

Subconsciously, France placed his hand on the ‘being’, only to find out that it was rock-hard and hot. Lines of its nerves were as thick as a wire and were ready to burst out in any minute. The French’s hand began to hand over a pleasure towards the British by moving his hand up and down. It was surprisingly throbbing in ecstasy.

France started to hear a couple of stuffled moans from the Briton. He used his thumb to tease its shaft, which in return had turned on the rugged captain more.

Moans from England mega-phoned itself around the cabin and reached the crew’s ears without fail. “Blimey!” expressed the pirate crew, ran his hand on his own ‘being’ and did himself while getting fired up on the event and at his captain’s unexpected and never-heard-or-seen reactions.

Without hearing England’s commands, the slight blonde French used his mouth this time. The leader’s centre felt the enormous heat, wetness and softness of the Frenchman’s tongue. It was every man’s dream, worthy of anyone’s worship. He began to move up and down, only to realize that England’s being got bigger and harder. France also used his tongue a lot by moving it around its tip.

“Oh, shit.” The captain stated, arched his head upwards and moaned in deep pleasure. He couldn’t help but put his hand over the younger blonde’s head and use a little bit force to push him downwards, to make him suck it more.

The lad sucked the other’s being deeper—slightly in his own will, where the British finally released his climax. Those white sticky liquids were let out in France’s throat, which was the reason why he choked. He held his throat and coughed a lot of times, spewed England’s liquids and repeated the coughing scene until nothing’s left on his throat.

“Go to your room, git.” England followed the Frenchman’s movements by his vert frames as he walked out of the cabin. France wasn’t making a facial expression, he wasn’t happy about what had happened nor even angry. He wasn’t sad, or crying, or whatever England had expected. Somehow, guilt had overcome inside him yet just ignored it anyways.