Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12222684.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hetalia:_Axis_Powers
  Relationship:
      2P_England/2P_America_(Hetalia)
  Character:
      2P_England_(Hetalia)_-_Character, 2P_America_(Hetalia)_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Public_Sex, Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Library_Sex, Smut, Fluffy
      Smut, A_Very_Tame_2P_Story, Intercrural_Sex, thigh_job, Leg_job,
      Frottage, School_Uniforms, Out_of_Character
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-30 Words: 1622
****** The Library ******
by Ludwiggle73
Summary
     Oliver and Allan enjoy some not-so-academic pursuits between the
     shelves of their boarding school's library.
     [Teenage USUK.]
     (2P!America. 2P!England.)
Notes
     This is my first 2P Hetalia story and it's sort of recycled
     (originally written with different characters). I would've made it 1P
     America and England, but there's the matter of cupcakes... Consider
     it a nerdy Ollie and a not-quite murdery Allan. Anyways, I hope you
     enjoy my shameless smut! :D
Oliver was having a hard time paying attention. Calculus was dry enough as it
was, but he had no hope of keeping up with the professor’s droning when Allan
was in the room. Their desks were arranged by alphabet, meaning they got to sit
side-by-side, which was at once a blessing and a curse, because Allan had taken
to sending flirty looks Oliver’s way whenever the prof’s back was turned. His
boyfriend did it now, glancing over and giving Oliver a smirk so sexy that the
Brit felt his legs going weak, even though he was sitting down. End, class.
Posthaste.
End it did, though not nearly as quickly as Oliver would have liked, and as
soon as the students were dismissed, Allan stood up, shouldered both his and
Oliver’s backpacks, and pushed in Oliver’s chair once he had moved out of the
way.
Oliver glanced up at Allan, smiling fondly. “Al, you know you don’t have to do
that. I can carry my own things.”
Allan just shrugged, smiling as well, and led the way out into the hall, where
Oliver stayed close behind Allan; the taller teen easily carved a path through
people who would normally trample Oliver, if he were walking by himself. They’d
almost reached the stairs when Oliver touched Allan’s shoulder, making him
glance down inquiringly.
“Library,” Oliver said, struggling to speak through the roar of students around
them. “I need to . . .” His words were lost in the noise, but Allan must have
heard the first part, because he steered them away from the stairs and down the
hall, into the grand library of the academy.
“Nice and quiet,” Oliver remarked cheerfully, and the librarian gave him a
death glare, which made Allan take a step toward her, but Oliver put a hand on
his arm and whispered, “It’s alright, Allie.”
His boyfriend gave the librarian one last look, then followed Oliver into the
endless rows of bookshelves. “What did you say you needed?”
Oliver scanned the titles efficiently, freckled fingers brushing spines as he
searched for what he wanted. “A book on theory,” he replied absently, still
searching. “I need to read about calculus.”
Allan’s brow furrowed a little. “You can’t just . . . read the textbook?”
Oliver was tutoring Allan so he could stay in calculus with him, so it was in
both parties’ best interest that Oliver knew what he was doing. “I already did,
it’s useless. No explanation on the theory behind the mathematics.” He found a
thick book that seemed to be what he wanted, but when he tried to take it out,
he almost dropped it. “Crumpets, this is heavy . . .”
Allan immediately took it from him, holding it without effort. “Do you wanna
stay in here to read it?”
It was lunchtime now, and Oliver would much rather sit in here than go down to
the writhing horde of the cafeteria. “You don’t mind not eating? You won’t get
to have your cupcake.” Food was strictly forbidden outside the cafeteria;
people had been suspended for crumbs in the past. Oliver didn’t eat a meal in
the middle of the day; he was too worried about gaining weight. Watching Allan
eat was usually enough to sate him until supper.
Allan shook his head, setting down their bags and the book, but instead of
taking a seat, he got down on his knees. Looking up at Oliver with a familiar
glint to his eyes, he said in a low voice, “I can think of something even
better to eat.”
Oliver stared down in shock and whispered, “Al, we can’t! Someone will see!”
Amused, Allan replied, “We’re in the math section of a library. Who’d ever come
over here?” Then he curled his lips into a smirk, which was cheating, because
Oliver was already biased to agree with Allan, but when smirks got involved,
all bets were off. Especially smirks on a face as sexy as Allan Jones’s.
So, of course, Oliver unbuttoned his trousers, murmuring, “Please don’t get
anything on my uniform.”
“Don’t be silly.” Allan tugged Oliver’s pants down, and Oliver had to look
away, because there were few sights he disliked more than looking down at the
pale, freckled pillars of flesh that held up his body. He hated his legs.
Thunder thighs. Some might call his body curvy; he called it fat, and he wished
he would outgrow it, but so far he’d had no luck. When he undressed, he avoided
looking at his stomach and especially his thighs.
Allan knew this, and studied Oliver as he gently wrapped a hand around the
Brit’s penis. “Are you okay?”
Oliver pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, then nodded. He was okay
with this, which surprised him. But dating Allan had made him more comfortable
with himself, and apparently more ballsy, pardon the pun. He gave Allan an
encouraging smile and pushed his stubby fingers through the dark hair before
him.
Allan fitted his lips around Oliver’s dick and sucked his cheeks in, bobbing
his head slowly. One hand felt the Englishman’s testicles, which Allan was
always extremely gentle with. It was not something that went both ways; Allan
enjoyed having his balls squeezed, among other BDSM-flavored activities. But
this wasn’t the time or place for that, least of all because he could get
damnably loud during their sessions.
Allan’s other hand slid up and down Oliver’s chubby thigh, fingers massaging
the incredibly soft skin. He loved Oliver’s legs, their chubbiness and their
freckles. In fact, he would have been happy to see Oliver gain a few pounds; he
found the puppy fat adorably sexy, and his mission was to someday make Oliver
appreciate his body like Allan did. He moved his lips from the blond man’s
erection to his other thigh, which he kissed and nuzzled as Oliver sighed
softly, stroking Allan’s hair.
After a few more moments of this, Allan rose up and unzipped his own pants (he
wore the uniform the academy had given him, though he wasn’t the biggest fan of
it) to take out his growing erection, which had begun to ache in the confines
of his boxers. He pumped himself quickly, then grabbed Oliver’s waist, pressing
up against the smaller teen. They both inhaled tightly as they frotted, Allan’s
hand grasping both cocks and rubbing them together, up and down.
Oliver gave a soft moan, then looked horrified, which made Allan grin and cup
Oliver’s face with his free hand to kiss him. They kissed breathlessly, all
lips and stubble and tongues, then pulled apart; Allan could feel the lust
pooling in his groin, urging go go more more! And, knowing Oliver wanted this
as much as he did (maybe even a bit more), he was happy to oblige.
Allan turned Oliver around and, hands on those pudgy hips, ground against him
briefly, just to feel the pillowy give of Oliver’s perfect ass against his
cock. Then Oliver lifted up onto his toes, and Allan pushed his dick between
those thighs, at the same moment Oliver tensed them together.
“Fuck,” Allan breathed against Oliver’s neck, pleasure snaking through him as
he started to thrust. Blushing at the curse, Oliver put his hands on the
bookshelf in front of them to steady himself, and Allan reached around to
stroke the Englishman’s dick, making him give little whimpering sighs. He
sounded sort of like he was in pain, but Allan was used to that by now; the
feminine cries and screams he’d drawn from Oliver some nights often sounded
almost agonized, but they weren’t. Just a sign that Oliver was enjoying what
Allan did to him, as was the precum that had slicked Allan’s fingers.
“A-Al,” Oliver whispered, voice made uneven by the jolts from Allan’s hips,
“fas-ster.”
Which, since Allan wasn’t actually inside Oliver, meant that Oliver wanted
Allan to be as rough as he wanted, to enjoy himself. Allan suspected Oliver was
a lot more willing to take it hard than Allan was willing to give it, but he
sped up his movements a little, making the friction against the Brit’s thighs
fasterfasterfaster!
Allan came before he could stop himself, four white spurts onto a couple books
about geometry. Oliver gave him a chastising look, but that only lasted five
seconds before he tipped his head back and shuddered; Allan was quick enough to
capture the spatter in his palm, though the books were still dripping with the
result of their tryst.
Oliver stood for a moment, catching his breath, then hurriedly pulled his
trousers back up and tried to wipe the semen from the book spines. This only
made it worse, leaving a dark wet smear over three of the books. Oliver showed
Allan his hand and hissed, “Look what you did!”
Allan, who had wiped his hand off on a tissue (Oliver kept a little pack of
them in his bag, for reasons Allan couldn’t name), zipped his pants and
regarded the stained volumes. “Mm, it was a good shot. I have pretty good
accuracy, huh?”
Oliver snatched the tissue from him, cleaned his own hand, and stuffed the
nasty thing into a side pocket on Allan’s bag. “You’re so bad.”
But he was smiling, so Allan picked up their bags and the calculus book, put an
arm around Oliver’s shoulders, and said the obvious: “You love it.”
And, when Allan lied up one side and down the other about any involvement with
the vandalism of the geometry books and was deemed innocent by the headmaster,
he found Oliver waiting for him outside the office door, holding a perfectly
iced cupcake. Allan kissed his freckled boyfriend and took a bite of his
beloved dessert, but he couldn’t say which was sweeter.
 
 
                                   The End.
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