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deegeeakTitle: Don't Answer your Voicemail in the Oval Office
Pairing: UsUk,
Genre: Explicit Phone Not-quite Sex
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arthur leaves Alfred an explicit voice mail...several of them in fact.
Ring..
Ring..
Ring..
"You've reached the phone of Alfred F Jones, Also known as America, FUCK YEAH!. I'm working on it Yao. Commie, if you keep going, I'm going to send you a box of Salmon Vodka. France, leave my brother alone or I'll bomb you. Everyone else, leave a message at the beep."
"You have, three recorded messages. To play messages, please hit 2."
Beeeeeeeep.
"First new message."
"Fucking tosser, can't pick up the phone can you? Suppose you're too busy stuffing your face full of burgers or god, your mouth. What I want to do to your mouth. Wanna see how far I can shove myself down your mouth, maybe a finger or three, and see if you really can bloody gag or not. "
Sound of cloth moving.
"Fuck, ye'd look so perfect on your knees, trying to suck me in. I'd just lay back and twirl that little piece of hair round my finger, don't think I haven't noticed what happens when that thing gets pulled. Maybe I'd just pull on your lovely cock instead - prolly as lovely as you are. America the beautiful indeed. Wonder if you're tan everywhere, bet you are. Though maybe I'd just like your tan lines, kiss and bite at your so fucking perfect skin till you can't remember anything but my mouth."
Sound of skin on skin.
"Yeaaa, that's the thing. I'd open you up, with one finger, and then two, till and keep finger fucking you till you can't breath. Make you fuck yourself on my hand, like that would you luv? I stole this stuff off of the Frog, so slick and so tingly. Pour it on your arse, and just work it in, licking you and biting till you beg me for more. Slowly, oh I'd do you so slowly. Sink into you till you think I'd gonna come up your throat and just fuck you for hours and hours, till you pass out. "
Sound of a sharp gasp.
"Or maybe..maybe I'd have you do me. Would you like that? Oh I bet you would, all that Manifest Destiny and shite. Prolly hold me down and work me open just enough to force your way into me. Then you'd hold my arms down and slam into me, wanna try to break me? Hng. And then, then when you finish, you'd not let me finish till..."
"End of message. To delete message please 5. To save this message please hit -"
Beeeep.
"Second new message."
"Fuck your bloody twat of a recorder, fucking pain in my arse! Where, oh yes...Your hand, forcing me open. We'll do it properly, working up to 4 fingers and you'd be smug, watching me swallow your fingers up wouldn't you? Then you'd just lean up and tell me to relax before you shove your hand up in me. So big, you're hands are so big...God, you'd hurt me so good."
Sound of a whine, followed by more skin on skin sounds.
"I'm touching myself, right now. Sliding my hand up and down my cock, working that vibrator in me. Gods it feels good, but you'd feel so much better fucking me. Fucking piece of plastic, not warm like you'd be, hitting all the right spots and making me take it."
Sound of someone breathing harder and harder.
"So fucking hot, I just wanna cum thinking about it, thinking of you makes me so bloody horny. Fuck, just want you to come over and screw me silly with your cock, your hands, or have me fuck you silly. On all fours, shoving back into your hands, spanking me, shoving into me, fuck, oh god, ALFRED!"
Sound of someone gasping for breath, then a click.
"End of message. To delete please press 5. To save -"
Beeeep. Beeep. Beeeeep.
"Third new message."
"This is Canada, eh. You know, Canada? I kicked your ass at hockey? Anyways, England's drunk again, and calling people, so don't take it personally this time, eh."
"End of message. To delete -"
Beep.
"Mr President..Where the hell do I find tickets to London on a FRIDAY?!"
Pairing: UsUk,
Genre: Explicit Phone Not-quite Sex
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arthur leaves Alfred an explicit voice mail...several of them in fact.
Ring..
Ring..
Ring..
"You've reached the phone of Alfred F Jones, Also known as America, FUCK YEAH!. I'm working on it Yao. Commie, if you keep going, I'm going to send you a box of Salmon Vodka. France, leave my brother alone or I'll bomb you. Everyone else, leave a message at the beep."
"You have, three recorded messages. To play messages, please hit 2."
Beeeeeeeep.
"First new message."
"Fucking tosser, can't pick up the phone can you? Suppose you're too busy stuffing your face full of burgers or god, your mouth. What I want to do to your mouth. Wanna see how far I can shove myself down your mouth, maybe a finger or three, and see if you really can bloody gag or not. "
Sound of cloth moving.
"Fuck, ye'd look so perfect on your knees, trying to suck me in. I'd just lay back and twirl that little piece of hair round my finger, don't think I haven't noticed what happens when that thing gets pulled. Maybe I'd just pull on your lovely cock instead - prolly as lovely as you are. America the beautiful indeed. Wonder if you're tan everywhere, bet you are. Though maybe I'd just like your tan lines, kiss and bite at your so fucking perfect skin till you can't remember anything but my mouth."
Sound of skin on skin.
"Yeaaa, that's the thing. I'd open you up, with one finger, and then two, till and keep finger fucking you till you can't breath. Make you fuck yourself on my hand, like that would you luv? I stole this stuff off of the Frog, so slick and so tingly. Pour it on your arse, and just work it in, licking you and biting till you beg me for more. Slowly, oh I'd do you so slowly. Sink into you till you think I'd gonna come up your throat and just fuck you for hours and hours, till you pass out. "
Sound of a sharp gasp.
"Or maybe..maybe I'd have you do me. Would you like that? Oh I bet you would, all that Manifest Destiny and shite. Prolly hold me down and work me open just enough to force your way into me. Then you'd hold my arms down and slam into me, wanna try to break me? Hng. And then, then when you finish, you'd not let me finish till..."
"End of message. To delete message please 5. To save this message please hit -"
Beeeep.
"Second new message."
"Fuck your bloody twat of a recorder, fucking pain in my arse! Where, oh yes...Your hand, forcing me open. We'll do it properly, working up to 4 fingers and you'd be smug, watching me swallow your fingers up wouldn't you? Then you'd just lean up and tell me to relax before you shove your hand up in me. So big, you're hands are so big...God, you'd hurt me so good."
Sound of a whine, followed by more skin on skin sounds.
"I'm touching myself, right now. Sliding my hand up and down my cock, working that vibrator in me. Gods it feels good, but you'd feel so much better fucking me. Fucking piece of plastic, not warm like you'd be, hitting all the right spots and making me take it."
Sound of someone breathing harder and harder.
"So fucking hot, I just wanna cum thinking about it, thinking of you makes me so bloody horny. Fuck, just want you to come over and screw me silly with your cock, your hands, or have me fuck you silly. On all fours, shoving back into your hands, spanking me, shoving into me, fuck, oh god, ALFRED!"
Sound of someone gasping for breath, then a click.
"End of message. To delete please press 5. To save -"
Beeeep. Beeep. Beeeeep.
"Third new message."
"This is Canada, eh. You know, Canada? I kicked your ass at hockey? Anyways, England's drunk again, and calling people, so don't take it personally this time, eh."
"End of message. To delete -"
Beep.
"Mr President..Where the hell do I find tickets to London on a FRIDAY?!"
