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England has had one of the most infuriating, drawn out, ridiculous days of his career as a country…he’s at least sure of it. 

He’s used to handling the task of making sure his duties are met before leaving to do his own leisure activities, he’s also used to having to sometimes clean up his boss’s mess…

Sometimes. 

But lately, there has been this strangely interesting habit the elderly men in charge of him seem to have developed where they enjoy pushing more than just England’s responsibilities onto him and elongating his day. 

Of course, England fulfills each request without much complaint nor backtalk, simply for the fact that he has a lot more time on his hands being immortal and all compared to the humans. He could be pretty understanding in that regard, so it didn’t always bother him to do as asked. 

But today…he was on a mission to beat the clock.

The internal, bodily clock, ticking along as his heat approached. 

It was his fault that he hadn’t caught on, honestly. He normally didn’t get his heat so soon. He wasn’t even sure what could have triggered it this time around, but sure enough he was starting to feel the heat flashes, the dizzy spells from a coming fever, the cramps….

At first, he thought the growing temperament in his body was a result of all the anger built up inside him from the petty errands he’d been asked to take care of today, but when pain started to curl in his abdomen and the aches in his joints ailed him, he slowly came to the realization that this…could have very well been his heat.

And as if his biology were solidifying that notion, he’d developed the level of slickness to match the rest of his symptoms…

It hadn’t gotten to a point where it needed considerable management yet, but he was doing his damndest to hurry up with his duties so he could have the weekend to try and soothe his heat. He’d have to stay home of course…he would handle it how he’s handled it several other times. It was tedious because it never satisfied him, but he wasn’t really interested in any of the other countries trying to satiate his heat, and the only person he really wanted wasn’t even available right now. 

God….he hated to admit it, but he missed him. 

No. No thinking. Not right now, at least. He’d save his fantasies for when he could go home and please himself in private and in peace. 

“Arthur? Do you think you have just a moment to deliver something for me before you leave?”

England bit his lip to keep from letting a curse slip out. 

How many times had he repeated himself just now with these people? Didn’t he just inform them that he had to leave now? He was out of his emergency heat suppressants and the slippery tingle of arousal grew to a degree that he couldn’t ignore, as he cleared his throat, straightened the red tie he wore, and fought like hell to force a smile onto his lips towards the man asking for a favor. 

“Gentlemen…I have some business outside of work to take care of. I must leave.” he finally stated, “Leave it on my desk and I will have it delivered Monday.”

“Are you sure you can’t do it right now? It’s important.”

Fuck no. 

Of course, he wasn’t going to say that…though he really really wanted to. 

He couldn’t do that right now. He was seconds away from melting into a very needy, deprived, horny man, and he wasn’t going to display himself in such a manner in front of important members of his government. He couldn’t just do that. It wasn’t something he was comfortable with, and he was sure they weren’t going to be comfortable either if he’d done it. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to really deal with his scent when around them. Most of the humans he’d worked with were betas, and didn’t have the ability to detect pheromones be it from rut or heat. That wasn’t a regard he had to devote much attention to most of the time, but he would still take his heat suppressants or apply his scent blockers in the off chance that there was that one unexpected visit from another country at his office. 

Okay, he couldn’t concentrate anymore. He had to go. He could feel the first threatening pulses deep within his core, a warmth bubbling within his stomach and the feverish flush started to burn in his cheeks. 

Yeah, it was time to go. 

“I really have to go,” he repeated with a deeper voice this time, standing from his desk, “Like I said I’d be more than obliged to handle it Monday.”

“Are you sure you couldn’t possibly spare a moment to deliver these documents?”

No. Like he’d said a thousand times already.

England didn’t respond to the men before him, and swiftly headed towards the door of the office, hiding his face as best as he could from the others and closing his eyes tightly at the slickness shifting within his privates as he walked. It was probably the best option anyway…considering he’d most likely have them all on his ass if he were to say what was really on his mind. 

Go home. Go home, go home, go home. Go straight home, don’t make any stops, don’t even pay attention to the speed limit, just get home as quickly as possible and deal with this issue. 

******************************************************

He was unsure if he’d get any phone calls by the time he made it home, but when he’d pulled up into his driveway, he couldn’t have cared less. They were seasoned politicians and public workers, they knew how to handle their issues. 

He couldn’t get out of that office fast enough.

Sometimes they were just so fucking helpless….it infuriated England so much worse than usual today. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that his heat had crept up on him unexpectedly. 

He supposed he had been a little lazy about his suppressants lately…he had spaced out his dosages since he was so accustomed to working with all of those beta men. His work environment gave him the opportunity to kind of relax with his routine. He’d been careless. 

England finally unlocked the door to his home, and the moment he’d made it inside, he slammed the door shut and pressed his back into it while panting heavily, eyes closed as he attempted to relax himself with slowed, trembling breaths. 

That obviously wasn’t going to make a difference…not this time around. He was drenched, on the inside and outside. His skin had grown clammy from sweat, blond strands of hair clinging to a damp forehead, and his chest heaved with each rolling wave of arousal pounding into his hidden, covered clit. He couldn’t breathe past the contractions in an untouched opening, and he struggled to fight past the cloud of brief confusion in his brain as he contemplated how he was going to soothe his heat. 

Fuck, where was he when he needed him….oh, that’s right…he said he would be away for a while….he wasn’t even told a definitive day for when he would return…

What he wouldn’t do for their bodies to press together, for their body heat to mingle as one, for their flesh to connect and their lips to touch, for even just a second with him….

That fucking idiot.

England huffed, shrugging out of his suit coat and hanging it on the nearby rack, then exited his entryway to head into his bedroom and figure out what he was supposed to do now. 

He dreaded the task of having to literally rub out his heat, be it with a toy, something to soothe the borderline painful clench of his opening, anything to pass the time for the next two days.

If only Portugal were here….

Just as he’d entered, his phone rang. 

He hoped to the divine that this wasn’t one of those stuffy men asking for another favor…he’d already prepared what he was going to say, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. 

Reluctantly, England grabbed the phone out of his pocket and answered, “Yes.”

“Arthur…I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

….Shit.

Even worse. 

It was him…..

Portugal.

And the moment he’d heard his voice, his entire nervous system went into overdrive and his heartbeat dropped deep into his privates with a pang strong enough for England to almost double over as he choked out, “A….Ah, J…Joao.”

“You sound so cute when you’re caught off guard…” Portugal chuckled, “How’s it going? You okay?”

Jeez….his concern, the sweetness in his tone, the comfort from just hearing his voice left England with an unfathomable desire to just let him do whatever the fuck he wanted with his body. There were no ears unholy enough that would be deemed worthy of ever hearing the obscenities England held onto in his brain for this man. 

“I’m fine.” he answered in a blunt tone (it was nowhere near blunt, though, considering how badly he wanted him), “I just…where have you been? Are you still handling your so-called important matters?”

“Well….yes? Maybe?” Portugal hesitated, “I was just checking on you. I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

Yes…yes, it has. England wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it didn’t bother him or that he wasn’t okay with their distance right now, especially since he was actively in fucking heat, and just the voice of the man he longed for left him increasingly wet the longer their conversation lasted. 

What if he were to just tell him? What if he just admitted that he was in heat and that he needed Portugal to help him through it? He couldn’t handle it in the manner he normally would, not this time, and especially not now after hearing the alpha speak on the other line. 

England sat on his bed, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as he yanked each one apart within trembling fingers, as he uttered, “So…is that a yes, or a no?”

“I actually wanted to ask you…are you busy today?”

……What did that mean?

“Um…no. Well, not anymore…thank God.” England answered quietly, “But…but Joao, I….”

“So how was it? How was your day today?”

Why wasn’t he capable of just speaking to him truthfully? Why was it so hard for England to just say “I’m in heat, I’ve had a really long and frustrating day and I need you to fuck the anger out of me?” 

“Why do you want to know?” He retorted, “You’ve been gone all this time, why did you call me all of a sudden?”

“Come on, don’t be like that Arthur. I wanted to hear your voice.” Portugal spoke with ease, as if he could hear his agitation and tried to calm him over the phone. 

England liked barking back sometimes. He couldn’t help his attitude, even while in great need of their sex and with his heat raging through his body at the moment. He wasn’t sure how much backtalk he could get through without getting to the point of begging to see him, though. 

Thanks to the idiots at his office, they’d done a bang up job thinning whatever patience he’d had left for interactions with others. 

“When are you coming back!?” England snapped, “You’d better be calling me with good news.”

“Arthur…calm down, please.”

…..Please, he says. 

England didn’t say anything else for a few seconds, his chest thrumming with a hurried heart. Perhaps he should have just been grateful for being given the chance to finally hear that idiotic alpha’s voice. 

Maybe he should be even more grateful for that weirdly firm remark just now.

Once he’d gone long enough without a response, Portugal’s more polite approach returned as he asked him affectionately, “I can tell by the sound of your voice that something’s going on. Why don’t you talk to me about your day?”

He hadn’t even mentioned it, though. Maybe he made it too obvious by trying to deflect when he was first asked about it.

Or maybe Portugal just knew him well enough to tell from context and behavior…

….Fine. 

England huffed, now reliving the terrible day he’d had at work, and vented, “Actually, it was quite literally shite. I had to deal with everyone else’s problems, I had to pretty much babysit the men I work with, and to make it all worse, I had my own problems that I was dealing with too…I just can’t stand it when they push everything onto me. Sure, I’m a country, but they don’t know that, at the very least I don’t tell them everything, and I know they’re mortal and whatnot, but it’s still a bloody faff to have to do everything for them, don’t you think?”

Like always, Portugal listened, silent on the other line while allowing England the space to vent, and that consideration alone left the Englishman with thoughts of a degree hotter than whatever word could ever be created to explain an extreme carnal need for a man not in his presence. 

“Wow…you really have had a rough day, haven’t you Arthur?” Portugal finally sighed, “Jeez, I’d hate for that day to suddenly be made better if I said anything about how far away I am right now…”

…..What did that mean?

“Stop with the riddles,” England blurted, his heart pounding profusely at the indication that Portugal might actually be nearby, “Where are you right now?”

“Before I answer your question…tell me more about what problems you’ve been dealing with…what’s wrong?”

England blinked at the question. “Why the blazes would you ask me that?”

“You don’t sound okay…you haven’t sounded okay since I called. There’s gotta be something else you haven’t told me.”

His rise in concern could be detected easily in how he spoke, and England felt like he should have been at least a little ashamed at the thump in his clit from Portugal’s sincerity, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Still, he persisted, and scoffed, “I…I’m fine. I assure you I’m okay.”

“England…you’re shaking when you talk. You’ve been sounding like you can barely hold yourself together…when was your last heat?”

Okay….okay, maybe England understood where this was going. 

He honestly should have known better than to try and lie or cover up the fact that he was actively in heat. Portugal had known him for so long that he could probably tell just from England’s silence that something was bothering him. 

England didn’t answer at first. He sat up in his bed, shirt unbuttoned and opened to reveal his flat, pale chest, and crossed his legs together while in a more straightened position, then in a softer, more vulnerable tone, he murmured, “W…well…since you asked…I think I went into heat while at work.”

Portugal was quiet this time, and the silence that fell left England’s shoulders tense and his face frozen in confusion at the fact that he hadn’t received a response right away. 

He could normally rely on Portugal for quite a lot when they were allowed the time to be together. He could easily ask for him to come by and just keep him company before they’d established a relationship based on the fact that England had a helplessly insatiable libido when in heat and Portugal was just as unruly when he suffered from rut. He knew the risks of their relationship, and he was also aware that their prolonged sexual shenanigans would end up establishing a bonded seal of their dynamic, but he couldn’t really think of any other country who’d satisfy him the way Portugal did. 

“Arthur…you’re in heat right now, aren’t you?”

Oh. He sounded different this time. His voice had dropped, he had a bit of a tremble to his tone, and he spoke slowly, as if he were ensuring England would hear every single word. 

“...Yes.” he replied softly, “I’m…I have a fever…I can’t stop shaking…and I’m…I’m wet….”

He admitted that last part with an unintentionally pitiful lift in his voice, and as he’d done so, he appeared to have triggered a reaction out of Portugal, who suddenly sighed as if he were fighting off some form of frustration. 

“Wet…you’re wet…how wet?” Portugal asked him smoothly, “H…how wet are you right now, Arthur? Have you touched it yet?”

…..Oh, okay….England understood.

“No.” He answered truthfully, “No, I haven’t touched it.”

“…Don’t do anything. Stay right there.”

Oh!

England’s eyes widened, his chest burned with adrenaline at the indication that Portugal had suddenly instructed him to keep from touching himself. He had the right mind to do it anyway, and he was unsure if it was because he’d been so pent up and angry about their distance, or for the fact that he liked irritating Portugal with his disobedience. 

As he shifted his legs around, his pussy pounded almost painfully with his movement, and now that it had been abruptly brought to his attention, paired with the sudden hike in desire for Portugal, he whimpered, “H…hurry.”

“I’m hurrying. I’m going as fast as I can.” Portugal suddenly stated, his voice low and touching a gravelly range, “I’m serious, Arthur. Don’t touch it…wait until I get there.”

Then hurry up. 

“Get here quickly.” England uttered, shimmying his hips to wiggle out of his pants while using one hand to push his clothing off of his body, “I-I don’t know how long I can wait.”

“You can wait. I know you can.” Portugal reassured him, “I know you can wait for me. That’s easy enough, right?”

…No. But since he used such a sweet, convincing tone, and England was already inconsolably horny, he sighed in a defeated voice, “…Yes.”

No other country would have been able to summon that kind of cooperation out of him, but he genuinely missed Portugal with every fiber of his being, and he’d be shooting himself in the foot trying to defy him when it was clear that they both had been deprived of one another. 

Plus…he could always just manipulate the other nation’s lack of restraint once they were in person. Portugal couldn’t resist him or try to tame him once he got a whiff of his pheromones. 

“Arthur, open the door. Let me in, please.”

Oh, he got there quickly. 

England stood, realizing while looking down at himself that he only wore drenched underwear and an opened white shirt, then muttered into the phone, “I’m not wearing much right now…the door’s still unlocked.”

He could barely move anyway. His thighs trembled and his chest tightened, his hole clenched for fulfillment and his poor clit hadn’t given him a moment of peace. He felt each dizzying sensation washing down his entire body while standing in the middle of his bedroom.

Portugal had better fucking hurry. 

“Hurry up, Joao…please.” England begged, his eyes glued to his closed room door while gripping onto his phone with sweaty fingers, “Tell me you’re almost here. I can’t take it.”

“Hang up, Arthur. I’m coming inside.”

Before England could even press “end” on his phone, Portugal had already hung up for him. 

He could hear the rhythmic thud of distant footsteps slowly bouncing towards him, his heart practically leaping between his chest and his throat, and he couldn’t tell if it was excitement or because his entire body surged with warmth at a feverish rate—

His door swung open. 

England couldn’t have felt more like a damsel in distress finally meeting their Prince Charming, as Portugal stood in the doorway, long fingers clasped tightly onto the doorknob, his dark brown hair tied carelessly into a loose, thin ponytail with red ribbon, and deep forest green eyes glistening with nothing but desire for the omega before him. 

His bronzed complexion shimmered in the sunlight of the bedroom, contrasting against the white shirt he wore with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. 

The black pants he wore fit tightly, and the culprit for said snug fit presented itself as a vehemently stubborn bulge demanding England’s attention as his eyes glued onto it for just a moment before meeting the gaze of the alpha he’d craved immensely. He’d already disposed of his shoes at the front door from the looks of it.

He wasn’t masking his scent. His pheromones mingled with England’s, and they both stood speechless while observing each other's appearance. 

Fuck, he’d missed him. He looked absolutely stunning. He still held those same caring, loving eyes. He stared back at England with infatuation in each passing second, finally taking a step into the room, his nostrils twitching from the intoxicatingly sweet scent radiating off of the warm body before him. 

Still silent from his overwhelming physical needs, England remained still as a statue, unable to control the soft gasp leaving his lungs at the woodsy, comforting musk of Portugal’s scent. 

He always smelled so good…it was the one thing that could soothe England in times of great stress or chaos, and as Portugal drew closer, he fought less and less of his willpower before closing their gap to wrap his arms around a wider, larger torso. 

Portugal cradled him, cupping the back of his head within the palm of his hand and pressing his nose into England’s scalp with a ravenous sigh, before murmuring, “You have no idea how badly I’ve missed you, Arthur.”

England couldn’t respond immediately, and instead buried his face into Portugal’s chest to stifle a needy noise he’d neglected to withhold. 

“Joao….Joao….” He finally whimpered, “Joao, I’m in heat…it’s unbearable…”

“I can smell it.” Portugal chuckled gently, “I can smell you from outside your home. I really missed you…I missed you so much,”

The acknowledgement of his aroma and the heat of lust in Portugal’s touch left England throbbing, his breaths grew denser by the second and he couldn’t fight back his urges as he leaned up to kiss a tanned neck glistening with sweat, soaking in his pheromones and rubbing his own scent into Portugal’s skin, eliciting just the slightest, quietest little groan from the alpha he clung to. 

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you…” Portugal cooed into England’s ear, swaying with him as he wrapped his hands around slimmer, thinner hips, “You did like I asked, right? You didn’t touch it?”

“Mm…no.” England moaned, unable to control himself as he pressed his clothed mound into an erection that immediately grabbed his attention, “No, love, I didn’t.”

God, somehow Portugal managed to bring out his more affectionate behavior, despite the rage he’d pent up from the frustrating and exhausting situation he had to push through today. He was unsure of how someone so breathtakingly handsome and caring would want to spare even an ounce of endearment with someone like England, but he didn’t complain….not one bit. 

He’d restrained himself enough, though, and his poor cunt pounded profusely for attention, summoning a light whine from his throat as he begged, “Joao…please…I’ve waited enough…”

“I know…I know..” Portugal whispered, finally cupping England’s red, tempered face into his palms to admire his needy expression, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along warm cheekbones.

He’d missed England…his features grew more admirable each time they’d met with each other, instance after instance leaving a rather longing pain in Portugal’s heart to suffer from until their next meet.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.” Portugal apologized with sincerity in his tone, “I’m sorry you had such a bad day and that your heat came out of nowhere…but I’m here. I’m here now, okay?”

England stared at him, half of his conscience wanting to snap back or hit him for making him wait so long to feel his touch again, but instead, he blinked away the urge to release his tears and whimpered, “I just….I just want you right now, Joao. I can’t think straight. I need you.”

“I’m here, Arthur….I’ll take care of you…” his voice trailed off into silence as he allowed their gaze to linger, before temptation controlled his instincts and he leaned down to kiss England. 

When their lips connected, Portugal lost his grip on his own desires, a deep gasp escaping through his nose, before he pressed England into his larger chest to envelope his omega with nothing but his own flesh, and released his lips with a sensual, wet click, then lunging in to latch their mouths together and pull a weak, desperate moan from England’s lungs. 

Juicy, sultry smooches rose into the room, the rustle of cloth against cloth, skin caressing skin, and muffled whimpers of wordless pleas for their bodies to meld as one blending into a symphony of long lasting hunger finally reaching a mutual boiling point. 

England’s fingers swiftly worked through each of Portugal’s buttons, and when his shirt flapped open to reveal plump, firm pecks of muscle, smaller palms glided along a bare, bronzed chest with greed one would beg forgiveness for. 

All while Portugal devoured his lips with ravenous tugs from sharp, ivory teeth, England finished pulling the white shirt from broad shoulders, and in correspondence Portugal wriggled his way out of it and allowed the article of clothing to drop against the floor. 

With a firm grip onto England’s hips, he pushed him backwards, guiding him to lay back against the bed and rest his head on the mattress while slipping his tongue into Portugal’s mouth, their muscles weaving together between airy breaths.

Strong hands pulled slim, pale thighs apart, with Portugal leaning back with plumped, flushed lips to hiss into England’s ear, “You do crazy things to me without realizing it, Arthur….”

Okay, okay that’s fine, England understood that, but he’d been aching, his clit practically hurt with how hard it pounded for touch, his hole clenched so tightly to be filled and his breath could be taken at any moment with how badly he needed to be pinned to the bed and fucked. 

“Joao,” England moaned to him, “I-I can’t take the small talk right now, I need you to fuck me,”

“Okay, I’m…I’m getting to it.” Portugal reassured him softly, “Be patient, I’m…I don’t wanna be rough with you, I just…”

“Joao, I don’t care.” England whined, his eyes half lidded and brows cinched as his body reached its limit of restraint, “Fuck me already…!”

“Arthur, I….Arthur…!” 

Portugal spoke with less wind in his tone each time he spoke England’s name, uncontrollably pushing his hips towards the omega’s crotch and butting his erection into a wet spot within England’s underwear. 

Damn….he wasn’t lying. He was wet. Portugal’s voice dissipated, replaced with a low growl he couldn’t hold back as he wrapped a hand around one of England’s wrists and pushed it into the mattress to hold him where he laid. 

Ooh. He knew it. England knew it would only be a matter of time before Portugal let his primal needs control him. 

To add insult to injury, and to further coerce him into letting out that wild beast he always tried to hide, England mewled to him quietly, “I-I can handle it, Joao. Stop trying to be soft. I know you need it, too.”

Portugal pulled from rubbing his nose into the scent glands right on England’s neck, and stared down at him with a deep, maroon flush in his cheeks, as he grizzled, “I’m sorry, I…I want to taste it.”

Taste it…

Taste it?

England nodded quietly, and uttered, “G…go on.”

Portugal wasted no time yanking away England’s boxers, pulling them from his thighs and off of his legs to mindlessly toss them onto the floor beneath them. He slid downwards, planting hungry, dense kisses down feverish skin, saliva rushing into his mouth as he felt the stubble of blond pubic hairs along a pale mound, then paused at how otherworldly of a scent lingered from drooling, plump, full pussy lips, a swelled, round clit and the roseate opening palpitating with arousal contractions. 

England stared down at him with a wave of heat running through his chest at the realization that Portugal intended to give him oral. 

Shit. Oral made him sensitive…Portugal’s oral made him sensitive. His skill remained unmatched, his technique was flawless, and maybe that just had to do with the fact that he’d grown familiar with England’s body. 

Regardless…the oral was going to make any other part of their intimacy that much more intense when it would finally happen. 

Portugal flattened his tongue, and brushed it carefully through an impossibly slippery current of wetness oozing from England’s opening, pulling a wanton, slutty moan from the Englishman, whose eyes suddenly closed shut and his head sunk against the mattress, legs curled and aligned with his waist as he latched his fingers into Portugal’s hair. 

Woah, okay. It couldn’t have been that long since he’d been teased with another man’s tongue…was he really just that sensitive? He didn’t mean to whimper so pitifully at how Portugal slurped up his slickness. 

But he’d missed him immensely…to a degree he couldn’t keep to himself, perhaps. 

“M…missed you…I missed you…!”

It crept from him sweetly yet erotic, as a broken, breathless moan that reached the ceiling, the moment Portugal had carefully lured an asymmetrical pussy lip into his mouth to suckle with uncharacteristic greed, almost as if he were responding in his own manner that he’d missed England equally.

His clit thudded for the same level of suction, and with each borderline painful pang of need ringing through him, England fought to stifle any pathetic noise threatening to leak from his throat as he arched his back and urged his cunt against Portugal’s mouth, easily held down by large hands clamping onto his hips to pin him where he lay. 

He hated how little effort it took his comrade of a greater size to just…put him in his place. Figuratively and literally sometimes. The frustration built up from the day he’d had, paired with the incessant need for Portugal to devour him from head to toe blended into the most excruciating and deprived behavior as a result. 

However, time and time again, it had been proven that his demeanor could be handled, that he was not that big of an obstacle to overcome once fully aroused and someone tended to his heat….that someone being Portugal, of course.

Shit, he started sucking on his clit.

England’s voice climbed up to a tremulous groan at the feverish lips sealed around his sensitive bundle of nerves, and the first torturously delicious tug left him spaced out within his brain, his opening spilling slick onto Portugal’s chin and aching with constant contractions. 

“More…More, Joao, please…!” He pleaded shamelessly, grinding his hips into Portugal’s face for further stimulation, rewarded with a low, indulgent moan thrumming against his entire pussy as a hot, wet tongue swirled his clit at a pace that drove England practically off of the bed as his hips hovered off of the mattress. 

Once again, his waist was pushed into the bed, and Portugal latched his lips onto a throbbing bud to apply the perfect amount of pressure and suckle, slowly slipping a finger into a needy hole and gasping into England’s flesh at how easily his digit was lured within pink walls. 

Oh, that right there  could have easily made him cum right on the spot. His opening clutched onto Portugal’s finger for dear life, and when he felt his sensitive, soft canal hug onto the second finger entering him, he couldn’t hold back the weak noise from his throat, eyes falling shut once more as he felt the firm pads of Portugal’s fingers brush into a spongy patch within his crevice. 

There it is. That spot that left England in a gelatinous state, the little area in his cunt that exposed his sluttiest, most pathetic persona, the extra delicate part of his cunt that summoned every noise possible out of his mouth when properly teased or touched….

And he could hear just how lewdly wet he was just from the first few rhythmic presses of Portugal’s fingers into him, he could hear the alpha’s ravenous moans into his flesh, he could hear his own voice bouncing off of his skull with each broken whimper as his clit was sucked fervently and his hole was prodded and stirred by the fingers of a man he lusted for endlessly.

“Joao…Joao, Joao…!”

He could say that name over, and over, and over again, as long as he could keep him snug between soft, pale thighs, as long as he could hear gluttonous slurps of such a handsome man lapping up his slick, and as long as he could thrust his hips against the fingers pumping him closer and closer to an orgasm he never thought he needed up until now. 

His stomach tightened at the pressure rising in his cunt, fingers clasping roughly onto dark brown clumps of Portugal’s hair, as England thrashed his hips to ride the face buried between his folds and the hand shuffling into his opening, his voice raising an octave before he let out a whine he’d been fighting all throughout their intimacy from escaping. 

“Fuck, fuck I’m close, Joao I’m close, oh God-!”  He cried, and in correspondence Portugal widened his tongue and curled his fingers into a pulsing, squeezing opening whilst allowing England the freedom to roll his clit against the hot wet muscle flicking away his life force from just their friction, grinding whatever parts of his pussy that he could into the mouth devouring him.

When his brain melted and his abdomen boiled without signs of stopping, England curved his back against the bed and let the warm, tingling sensation of his strong orgasm rip through his entire body and send tremors within the muscles of his legs, a madly palpitating clit, and the sopping wet hole tugging Portugal’s fingers further inside the harder his climax rippled along his mass. 

His voice echoed off of the walls, a repeated mantra of Portugal’s name between shuddered breaths and light whimpers as his chest heaved through the clenching pains from his heart racing. 

So good…so good, so good…Portugal’s mouth felt so good, his moans liquefied England further and he could also hear how greedily his alpha lapped up each current of slick.

His alpha….his alpha…

While breathing heavily through the fading bliss of experiencing his omega’s release, Portugal slid upwards to climb onto England, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth to clean up whatever nectar had been left behind, and stared down at him with adoration for the blessing of such a sight. 

England finally opened his eyes to meet Portugal’s gaze, lifting himself up to reward him with a soft peck on the lips, and sat back while relishing in his own taste, then asked quietly, “Are you okay, Joao?”

“I’m perfect.” Portugal answered gleefully, a charming smile glowing across his shimmering face, “But I won’t lie and say I’m not fighting the urge to fuck your brains out right now.”

England’s breath caught in his throat at the gravel slowly descending into Portugal’s tone, and he couldn’t help but smile at his restraint, as he reached out to stroke his cheek and murmur, “I told you I can handle it. It hasn’t been that horribly long since we last had sex…and with my heat, I need it.”

He could practically smell it on him anyway. Portugal had clearly been starved of their intimacy. 

While the larger man before him knew England’s body like studying a painting, his hesitation to feed into his primal needs clearly stemmed from a place of great concern for the omega’s wellbeing…but England has always reassured him that he can endure it. He had his own animalistic tendencies too…he wasn’t dainty or innocent. 

“I…okay, Arthur.” Portugal finally sighed, pecking him gently on his forehead. “Sit still for me right quick, okay?”

England slid back a few inches from Portugal and spread his legs further to give his alpha more space, and stared back to ensure that he was seen doing as told. 

Portugal finally slipped out of his pants with one swift movement, lifting each leg hurriedly to free himself, until he slid from his clothing and let it lay in a pile in front of the bed.  

There it is. 

A fat, long, veined cock, glistening with precum in all its cut glory, and the moment England’s eyes laid onto it his chest thumped at a haste he couldn’t quite breathe through. 

It was bigger than he remembered. But it wasn’t something he ever recalled the inability to take within his body…

Portugal’s smile had faltered as his carnal needs finally darkened his expression and caved his eyes, his face feverishly flushed and his fangs peeping from lips pulling to reveal sharp teeth, and he snarled, “Arthur…are you sure…?”

“Joao…don’t you want to fuck me?” England whispered, “Come on…come closer.”

Portugal complied almost immediately, piling his entire body weight on top of England with one singular movement from the floor to the bed, his scent enveloping the man under him and sending a chill down the omega’s spine, who wrapped his arms around a thick neck to keep him from moving away, splaying his legs outwards and against the mattress. 

“Joao, listen to me.” England instructed him, his voice shuddered from the overwhelming lust of a libido that never calmed, “I-if you need to get rough just do it. Fuck me as you need to…don’t hold back. I missed you, okay?”

He watched deep green eyes follow the movement of his lips, shallow breaths feathering from Portugal’s nostrils as he swallowed hard and nodded at him in obedience to his words. 

England left him a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and cooed, “Take a minute if you have to…but when you’re ready, I need you to fuck the heat out of my system. You can do that, right?”

Again, Portugal’s breaths shriveled from his instinctive sex drive, his forehead glowing with sweat and his eyes dewy with need as he hissed, “Okay. Okay, if my Arthur wants it rough, I’ll fuck you roughly.”

My Arthur. 

Ooh, don’t do that. 

England held back his own pitiful voice at the indication of Portugal claiming ownership of him, and scooted his lower body closer against the emanating warmth of a throbbing cock, uttering to him breathlessly, “J…just do it. Go ahead.”

Portugal obeyed silently, leaning closer while pressing his lips into England’s, weaving his tongue into the other nation’s, as he slowly eased his tip at a wanton hole, grasping onto one of England’s thighs to maintain his spread open position. 

The moment his cock head nudged against the Englishman’s opening, a gasp escaped between their lips, and when sheer, wet warmth hugged his tip, Portugal moaned into their kiss with a voice never heard before, welcomed by the intense clutch of pink walls onto thick veins, and pulling a honey sweet mewl from England’s throat. 

He pulsed with an alarmingly abundant slickness as his cunt gripped onto the girth and the rhythmic throb of Portugal’s cock, glossing golden-brown skin, contrasting against the pale, flushed pink flesh of England’s split pussy lips and the rosy hood of his clit, a beautiful sight that Portugal had to pause and admire through a brief cloud of cognitive stability, before his ravenous instincts returned to the forefront and he shoved himself up to his hilt, summoning a high pitched yelp from the man he’d penetrated.

Dark brown pubic hairs momentarily blended into a gold patch from the compression of their privates, before Portugal leaned his hips back and established a slow, rigid pace, crotch pressing into fair cheeks with a breathless moan from both men. 

“Mm…Mm, I missed you.” Portugal sighed, “I missed my Arthur, I missed you so much.”

England’s eyes struggled to stay open, desperate to observe the glimmer of wonder in Portugal’s expression as he watched chocolate brown strands of his ponytail dangle from over a broad, sturdy shoulder, watching his cheeks glow with sweat and his complexion darken from a feverish flush. He stared at the sharp fangs peeking just behind soft lips, all of his musk whirling into an intoxicating fog within England’s brain as he took each push, as he winced from each liquefying press of a fat cock head into his cervix. 

Yeah…he’d missed Portugal more than he would like to admit. There was no telling when they’d be able to meet like this again, and the sadness from that knowledge threatened to well up in the Englishman’s chest as he whimpered from the endearing grasp of his walls onto the breathtaking cock caressing his sensitive G-spot.

“J…Joao…Joao….Joao….” 

He couldn’t moan out any other words with enough power to convey just how immensely he’d longed for Portugal’s return. England craved no other alpha, he starved for no one else’s flesh but his….his alpha. His alpha.

He could only hope that how pitifully shaken and helplessly he’d spoken his name was more than enough indication for Portugal to start getting a little rougher with his pace, and shifted his hips to meet each movement into his cunt, creating a deliciously tingly pang from the clash of their lower bodies and wrenching melted groans from his larger, more reliable and captivating partner the wetter and sloppier England’s insides grew. 

“Mmm, fuck…” Portugal hissed into England’s throat, “Fuck, I…I’m gonna start going harder…Arthur, you feel so good….!”

Of course he did…of course he did, and only for him, literally no one else would ever be blessed with the chance to breed a country as cute and needy as England. 

Portugal clung to that thought while thickening his thrusts, not adjusting his pace, but at the very least ensuring that England could feel more of his cock with each fierce bunt into a cervix he developed an increasing desire to fill.

He was aware of the risk that they always seemed to encounter when having unprotected sex, but the noises England made when their bare flesh connected, the satisfaction and the bliss in his voice when he was used solely for the act of breeding and for impregnating, fueled Portugal with the nature that had been instilled from the very beginning of his existence.

Normally, England relied on suppressants to keep his heat from leading to unexpected pregnancy….but Portugal missed England so badly, and his entire body reacted as if he’d been fasting for several weeks when finally met with all of his wet heat (quite literally what he’d done), that he didn’t really care about getting him pregnant. 

He’d take care of him. He’d push his own work aside and nurture both him and their babies. He’d handle England with care, snuggle with him, help him with his nest, massage his feet, rub his growing belly….

He’d do whatever he needed to do if it meant no other alpha would rob him of the chance to be the father to their children.

“A…Arthur,” Portugal whimpered suddenly, “I…I need…need to breed you.”

“B…breed…?” England repeated breathlessly, staring up at him with wide eyes, a deeply flushed face and lifted brows, “Wh…what do you mean?”

“I missed you…I missed you, I can’t leave you again…!” Portugal pleaded in a deep, desperate voice, “I have to…I have to…I need you to carry my pups…!”

Oh. Oh, no. England wasn’t….England wasn’t expecting him to say that. He’d been able to avoid his heat for so long that the timing probably couldn’t have been any worse for Portugal to just show up like he had…sure, Portugal probably wasn’t aware….he couldn’t have been…he probably just wanted to see England, like truthfully just see him. He couldn’t have been planning to actually breed England during his most fertile state.

Why would he bring this up right now, though?

England wished it had been said before he’d started grinding his hips against Portugal’s ripple of thrusts, shuffling his pussy against the potent, thick flesh palpitating against his cervix. 

He wish he’d mentioned this before his head started swimming with the need for seed to flood him from the inside, then he would have had a better brain to work with, he would have been able to make the right decision and tell him that that wasn’t a good idea, that he would be unfathomably reliant on his alpha partner during the entire pregnancy, that Portugal devoted too much time to his own duties as a country to be a responsible dad, and England wasn’t going to be made to look after their pups for months at a time without Portugal’s help….

But instead of thinking about any of what ran through his mind, he locked his thighs onto Portugal’s waist, crossed his ankles into a strong, stout back, and cooed to the man dying to breed him, “Promise me you’ll be here….d-don’t leave me with your babies…I-I need you here, Joao…please…”

Portugal’s heart thrummed deep in his chest at the airy, submissive plea heard from the depths of England’s core, and for just a moment he stared lovingly into him, once again capable of surfacing from the fog of a primal sex drive roused from his fellow nation’s intense heat.

“I won’t…I won’t.” Portugal promised, his voice shuddered with breathless gasps at England’s insides practically tugging his cock and squeezing precum from his head, further weakening him as he shifted his brawny hips to press his omega into the bed and pin him where he laid, “I’ll…I’ll fuck you how you wish, and you’ll bear my children…!”

“Okay…! Okay, Joao, just do it..!” England moaned out loud, “Fuck me…fuck me, fuck me…please…!”

With the deprived, feeble plea leaving his lungs, Portugal locked his eyes onto the man before him, reaching with both hands to clamp onto thinner wrists and dig them into the plush mattress, his expression darkening and a threateningly territorial snarl ripping through clenched teeth before he rolled his waist backwards and started pounding into England’s cunt, rewarded with louder, more passionate moans and a warmer, tighter clutch against his cock. 

Sharp teeth suddenly dug into England’s neck, right where his scent gland resided, pain spreading from two pinpricks breaking his skin and sending a chill through his body as he realized that Portugal was leaving more than just a bite mark. 

Portugal’s mouth latched onto him without an ounce of hesitation, fully intent on ensuring that he’d made it known in several more ways than one that he wasn’t leaving England’s side this time. 

If England were to accept his seed, carry his children, and bring their offspring into the world, Portugal owed him more than anything for such stress to be placed on his body. He’d obligate himself as the alpha to claim him and officially pull him from the pool of single omegas.

He’d make England his omega.

England wordlessly expressed his euphoric pleasure from such an impactful gesture with a deep, breathless gasp, riding the currents of movements into his cunt while simultaneously withstanding the pain from a fierce imprint of knifelike teeth.

Slender, pale fingers webbed between strands of Portugal’s hair to hold onto the back of his head and press firmly into his scalp with intentions of allowing the larger nation to successfully mark him, to mix their scents together, to close the gap of commitment in their bond. 

Once he’d done so, Portugal parted from England’s marred flesh with strings of saliva, and with plumped lips, never slowing his pace, he managed to track the other nation’s gaze and muttered, “Y…you’re my Arthur now…my Arthur…”

England lost all ability to speak, as his thighs trembled to remain glued onto Portugal’s waist, his body rocked against the bed due to the momentum of each melting, addicting push of a pulsing cock head grinding the sensitive spongy patch inside, and digging into his cervix. 

He closed his eyes tightly, burying his face into the crook of Portugal’s neck and letting a shaken, vulnerable whine thrum against his skin as his stomach burned and his cunt swelled with overwhelming pleasure, pain searing from his neck and adding further arousal like coals to a fire.

He was close. He was close, and Portugal wasn’t stopping. 

England tried to voice it, too. He tried his hardest to indicate that he was drawing closer and closer to an intense, hard orgasm, one that he was certain would coerce Portugal into coming too.

As his chest condensed with a tightness never felt, and his muscles slowly dragged in as much pressure as they could hold at a slower yet stronger rate, he dug his nails into the shoulder blades of Portugal’s back, pulled from his neck and let his voice bounce off of the walls and the ceiling of his bedroom whilst his entire body released shockwaves of released tension.

His pussy convulsed with orgasmic palpitations, effectively squeezing Portugal’s already sensitive and pulsating cock head, and he let out a low groan at the blinding ecstasy from the feverish pressure on his flesh, before he felt a sensation starting to swell from within his taint and surging upwards. 

Like England had expected, it was more than enough for the larger nation to start thrusting sloppily, his rhythm inconsistent and his breaths jagged against the skin of England’s shoulder, letting out hisses from the pain of nails scraping his back.

When it happened, and Portugal snapped his hips against pale ass cheeks, England’s voice hiked up an octave at the hard, alarming rush of cum directly into his cervix, pooling into him and flooding his insides as he cried out from the sensation.

Filling…filling, Portugal was filling him….

Wait.

Wait, hold on.

What was he trying to push into England’s hole?

It felt….bigger than the rest of Portugal’s cock. Right at his shaft.

Was that….?

Oh God, was that his knot?

“P…Portu…Portugal,” England gasped, “Wh…wh-what is that…!?”

Portugal couldn’t find the strength to respond, grunting deeply from each thick, slow push as he gradually eased the enlarged bulge at his base inside the pocket of wet heat, shuddering as it further stretched England and gutted out an indulgent moan from the omega taking it.

It was…a new feeling for England. He’d never been….knotted in before. 

Okay, okay. The claiming bite, the knotting, the expressed need to breed, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to him…considering he’d probably triggered these desires because of his heat. 

Once Portugal’s knot fully submerged, England whimpered into the alpha’s neck as he curved his back from the spread of his opening, chest heaving and breaths dense as he accepted the fullness of seed within his womb, comforted with soft kisses against his scalp and his forehead, traveling down to his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, and eventually his lips. 

Portugal pulled back, whispering to him calmly, “St…stay still, Arthur. It’s gonna be there for a minute or two. I…I’m not…this is the first time I’ve uh…”

He almost seemed hesitant to say the word England was waiting for him to speak into their space. 

It was Portugal’s first time breeding an omega. Like, successfully breeding an omega. Ensuring the seed would stay inside long enough for one to catch, then transferring the bodily work of a fertile reproductive system like one England possessed, and actively solidifying their bond with such a tense, painful bite from earlier. 

It was England’s first time receiving said seed. It was his first time allowing an alpha of any kind to knot in him and lock their cum in place with full intentions of implanting their pups within his womb. 

Both of course had every right to be nervous right now. They had every right to stare into each other’s eyes with uncertainty for their future, but also with the safety and love shared between them to know without saying it that there would be no more distance. 

England quietly stroked Portugal’s cheek, a cool, clammy chill felt within his cheeks at the notion that his heat had been satiated. 

“Thank you…” he muttered with a small smile, “Thank you for coming by to see me…and thank you for helping me with my heat…”

Portugal smiled back, pecking him on his cheek, and responded timidly, “I…I thought you were gonna slap me silly for wanting to breed you.”

“No…no, Joao, I…I don’t have the connection we hold for anyone else.” England admitted, “I wouldn’t want another man’s children. You’ve always been the one I wanted.”

Portugal stared down at England’s  body now, admiring the glisten of sweat along his chest, his stomach, and his thighs, focusing onto the pink folds parted around the girth of his bronzed cock, watching his knot stretch him further and prove just how well sculpted of a figure England held, perfect for Portugal, and only Portugal.

“You’re just…so amazing.” he finally gasped, “You’ve got such a cute little face to kiss, a beautiful body, your voice leaves me so dizzy sometimes and I can’t think when I can’t touch you…being away from you has been horrible.”

“I agree.” England confessed, his eyes glowing with adoration towards him, “I…felt like I suffered immensely without you here. You…you won’t leave me here with the children…right?”

“No.” Portugal promised him truthfully, cupping England’s face into the large palms of his hands, “I won’t. I’m going to make some phone calls…let my boss know that I’ll be away for a while, and then I’m all yours. Okay?”

England’s eyes lowered, tears threatening to spill, as he whimpered, “O…okay. Okay, Joao. I…I love you so much.”

“I love you too…I love you too, Arthur.”

Their arms braided together into a hug, with England snuggling his cheek against Portugal’s, and the slightest purr slipped from his throat as comfort blanketed the both of them, still bound together by a persistent knot burrowed inside England, relishing in each others’ skin and inhaling each others’ scents. 

The road from pregnancy to childbirth would not be easy, but at the very least, England would have Portugal here. That was all that mattered. 

Both countries had had such a long day, and wholeheartedly deserved to be in each others’ arms so that they could blur out the rest of the world.

England was there.

Portugal was there.

It was all they needed of each other after all.