[ He lets his hands wander to rest on America's hips, thumbs idly stroking his skin while the younger blond went to undo the buttons of his shirt. The moment America's hands start roaming his own shift to work at America's pants. He doesn't get far because ...yet again, America opens his mouth and distracts him. France's brow furrows and he tips his head in confusion. ]

How do I feel old? Body hair doesn't mean you're old...

[ He actually makes a sound at the bluntness of what tragedy comes from the boy's lips next. Uh. America. What a strange conversation they're having leading up to sleeping together??? ]

Darling, I do not kiss and tell but I am quite versed, you could say. I don't want to talk about other partners. My focus is on you right now.

[ Eager, isn't he? The Frenchman follows suit, stripping as well before he slips to the bed. It's like some strange, out of body experience to watch his hand roam over America's ribs and downward to lazily stroke his length. It's not weird enough to stop, or kiss the slightly bruised lip he was responsible for. ]

Why don't you tell me what you're most curious about and then we'll go from there?