Sunday, 24 August 2014

Scotland one shot - Tricks of the Trade


                “Alfred, I don’t want to come.” She complained, but he wasn’t about to budge.
                “I want you to come!”
                “But why?”
                “Because England’s bringing one of his brothers! I have to have someone too!”
                You were floored, Arthur was lovable, but this was just a waste of your time. You wanted to sunbathe and surf and drink cocktails on the beach. You didn’t want to sit in a boring meeting with a bunch of boring countries just because that dork England had brought one of his brothers along. You’d never met another Kirkland, but you could picture them. Blond hair, those huge blond eyebrows, probably short with a stupid expression on his face, hell, he’d probably smell awful just because you had to sit next to him.
                Alfred took your silence as acceptance and began to jabber on mindlessly as you sat and sulked, stewing in dark clouds of anger.
                This anger continued as you left the car and followed him to the meeting room, and then evaporated as you saw the elder Kirkland. He was stood right next to the idiotic Arthur, so you knew that the flaming haired god had to be the one.
                “Arthur buddy! How’s it going?” Alfred yelled across the room as he pulled you to the brothers. “Guys this is Cali, the state of California!” You smirked as the older brothers eyes quickly ran over you before meeting your gaze.
                “Yes, we’ve met before.” Arthur said dryly, remembering the last time he had gone to America and accidentally brought the rains of England with him. You had been furious that it ruined your day at the beach, and had refused to speak to him for the rest of his visit. Eventually, you had gotten the sun back out and he ended up going home with a nasty sunburn that took weeks to go away. “I don’t think you’ve met my brother though, this is Scotland.” Arthur introduced his brother who hadn’t yet taken his eyes away from yours.
                He nodded at you wordlessly, and then you were ushered to your seats by America. “Behave Cali.” He said. England simply gave his brother a warning glare before walking off.
                The meeting droned on, and by the ten minute mark you were already dying. A sidelong glance to Scotland showed that he was feeling the same. He was leaning back in his chair, one ankle on his opposite knee, and his hands clasped behind his head. Curls of that fiery hair had fallen boyishly over his forehead, but that was the only thing boyish about him. His shirt had ridden up just enough to show a sliver of his hips where his jeans were tight to his body. The corded muscle bulged on his triceps, and as your eyes followed the trail of his arm, you noticed flecks of cloven green watching you. He raised an eyebrow at you, obviously having seen you blatantly checking him out. You let your eyes collide with his, and after one last look you slowly turned your attention to the meeting. You head the scuffle of a chair beside you as Scotland scooted closer. You heard the movement of cloth and then felt a warm breath tickle the shell of your ear
                “So I hear you’re the one who burned my brother in America.” His voice was amused at your grin that told him he was right. “Nice move. He couldn’t come outside for weeks, it was so peaceful.”
                “I’m glad, your brothers an ass.”
                He seemed taken aback at your outspoken nature, but then chuckled.
                “You should try living with him, it’s a nightmare.”
                You giggled, and ignored the glares from several other countries who were obviously bothered by your conversation.
                “What are you even here for?” You asked.
                “Ach, I lost a bet with my brother Ireland. I didn’t know this would be so boring or I never would have agreed.” He was silent for a moment before asking you the same question.
                “America brought me because England brought you. He didn’t want to be left out, poor baby.”
                Scotland laughed and more than several heads turned this time.
                “You two. Be quiet.”
                You looked up at the German who was glaring at you both. Scotland’s laugh seemed to have interrupted his speech.
                He restarted the entire speech and Scotland leaned a little closer before breathing in your ear, “I can’t help feeling he’s compensating for something with that uniform.”
                This time it was your laugh that disrupted his speech.
                “Out! Into the hall until we are finished!” Germany yelled, and as fast as bullets the two of you escaped the meeting.
                “Finally, I thought we’d never get out.” You laughed, looking back at the Scotsman.
                “I second that, lass.”    
                The two of you walked through the giant building, randomly turning corners.
                “So Scotland…”
                “Ian, my name’s Ian.”
                “Ian.” You tested the name on your tongue as you strolled to a window and missed the flash of hunger in his eyes. It’s not like he could help it really. He was so used to British women, with their pale skin and brown hair and blue eyes, that you were an exotic treat for his eyes to ravage. You hair was a shocking mass of blonde curls, your skin was bronzed from the time you spent in the sun, and your eyes were a mischievous honey brown. Even your voice got to him, the Californian accent that made your words curl around his own like a blanket covering a needle.
                “Are you alright? Ian?” He realised you were talking to him, and he lost his response as he heard footsteps behind him, and America’s loud voice calling out for you.
                “They’re coming.” He said, and grinned as you pouted.
                “I don’t want to go back to the meeting.”
                Scotland’s mind veered to the side and he stepped brazenly forward. “Play along.” He whispered, his lips brushing yours as the lilting words muddled your mind. His vivid green eyes had an impish glint, and you couldn’t help feel your body heat up under their gaze. Ian’s hands trailed up your sides before he placed them on the glass beside your head. He stepped closer, ridding you of any personal space you might have had left. His breath was warm on your lips, and even as the footsteps got closer you didn’t have the mind to move into a more respectable position. All at once his lips captured yours and you lost the ability to think about anything except the man in front of you. Your hands wound into his flaming hair and pulled him down to you, crushing his face closer to yours. His knee slid between yours and pressed deliciously into your core. Your throat vibrated in a moan, only causing the Scott to grind his knee into you harder, faster. His hands left the window and grasped at your hips, pulling them closer to him. You arched into him, reeling in the warmth of his body to ward off the cold from his hands.
                Your nerves were on end, electricity pouring between the two of you as you pressed and pulled at each other, then you heard it.
                “Oh my god! Cali!!!”
                “Damn it, I wanted my chance at ze lovely California.”
                “Yeah! Go Scotland!”
                “Ian what are you doing?”
                Quite a few of the countries had come to look for you it seemed, and they all stood in the doorway, watching you and Scotland. You moved to break away from him, but as soon as your lips were free he captured them again. His hand forced your head back into the glass, and Scotland took advantage to nip at your tongue to come out and play. One by one, the footsteps of the countries grew fainter as they walked back to their meeting, leaving you alone. Only then did Scotland let you go.
                You fought to catch your breath, and then glanced up at him. Your cheeks were pink and your lips were swollen, he couldn’t stop himself as his hands cupped your face and he kissed you again. This was softer, he had more time now. Once again he coaxed your tongue to dance with his, a low groan escaping his throat.
                “They’re gone now.” You said between kisses, as if that mattered. Ian hiked your legs around his waist and pressed you back into the window, “So?” His hips ground heavy circles into your heated core, and you didn’t have the reasoning to stop him. Why on earth would you end this? You attached your lips back to his and moved your hips against him, feeling his smirk form.
                You had complained about coming to the meeting because it would be boring, when it had actually helped you discover your new favourite pastime.
                Being ravished by a Scotsman.         

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