Cherry Pie

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

Cherry Pie

By Cyrelia J

Part 2

He peered over Texas at her, a small unseen smile on his face. The way her arms crosses over those lovely tracts of land made it seemed like they were being put up on display; it was sexy as hell. Her panties were stilled balled up in one fist and he couldn’t help but feel proud at that. It was inspiring, really. Yeah, he was definitely firing up the sexy lady rims tonight. He closed the laptop, turned on the red white and blue neon undercarriage lights, and then the stereo. America slid the laptop back underneath the seat as “Cherry Pie” started blaring from the custom sound system. Canada squeaked as the bass made the bench seat vibrate. You’re gonna pay for this Al, she thought heatedly as she fastened the lapbelt. You just don't know it yet.

She was always amazed that America never got pulled over with the tricked out old muscle car; and god only knew how much it was contributing to the hole in the ozone layer too, but it was still probably better than that damn Hummer of his. She was also positive that the tinted windows and light violated half a dozen state ordinances but for some reason America seemed to have what England called “The devil’s own luck” when it came to the police. Remembering the debacle a few years ago when he'd convinced half the mediterranean into a reenactment of the Cannonball Run she became a true believer. She let her thoughts wander so taht she could cool down until they pulled onto the highway: America singing along with Warrant rather impressively. She glanced over with a smirk waiting until his attention was focused on the road. Two could definitely play this game!

Slowly and quietly, she unbuckled the seatbelt and threw her panties in back. Usually Canada was far more safety conscious, but an exception could be made in dire circumstances; and there was no circumstance more dire than giving America a little comeuppance. She only hoped that he wouldn’t swerve off the road and crash; she’d never hear the end of it if the car was wrecked. And despite what America liked to say about "good old fashioned American craftsmanship" and "indestructible H frames",  she wasn't too keen on experiencing a car crash without airbags. Still, the large bench seat was a godsend in situations like this so what did she know? Canada was glad that America’s legs were long and that he liked to drive with his right hand at the top of the wheel. There was plenty of room for her to squeeze in between him and the steering wheel and she worked quickly, careful as she unzipped his jeans her left leg neatly folded underneath her.

America looked down his eyes going wide as she neatly extracted his cock.
“Shit Mattie what are you-“ He looked up as he felt the rumblestrip and barely avoided driving into the guardrail.
“Better watch the road,” she replied sweetly and began to stroke him. He groaned above her swearing and forced himself to look away and at the road. He squirmed, his legs kicking feebly and she smirked. Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it Al? She pushed back the pliable foreskin, squirming some herself as the large swollen cockhead emerged and for one crazy moment she contemplated begging him to pull over so they could-
“God, Mattie are you gonna suck it or look at it all day,” America growled, both his hands gripped the top of steering wheel far too tightly.

Canada shot an annoyed glance upwards at him before bending over and laving her tongue around the circumference of his shaft. Her breath was hot on his cock and she was panting as she worshipped the thick length. As smooth as the ride was, it was still sloppier than normal. She jerked him as she licked, the wet of her saliva allowing her soft hand to pump him fast. America bit his lip and turned the cruise control on; his foot was far too erratic on the accelerator.
“God, suck it, please suck it,” he moaned as he tried to focus on the dotted white lines on the road. His hands were beoming slack on the wheel and he thanked god the alignment was perfect. She put a hand on his hip to hold him still and then with a smoldering look that he just barely caught, took his entire length into her hot mouth.

She gripped the base hard and her teeth purposely scraped over his foreskin and drew it down further.
He meant to say “watch the teeth, Mattie” but could only manage a stammered and flushed “T-tee-tee…” because fuck if that somehow didn’t feel amazing and drive him wild. He swallowed- his mouth was suddenly dry- and whimpered when he felt her throat convulse and vibrate. Is she humming O Canada? he wondered for a wild moment.
“Mmmm” she hummed and moaned squeezing her thighs together tightly as she held him deep in her throat. She ached and needed and in a moment of odd twin pornographic zen she heard him whisper,
“Fuck Mattie, I wanna fuck you so badly.”

She shifted in her seat, and pulled back just slightly. Her tongue circled and coaxed the salty fluid from the head of his cock while her fist continued to pump him fast and hard. His grip tightened again in response and he felt as if he’d break the steering wheel. America was thankful there wasn’t a lot of traffic because try as he might he wasn’t exactly maintaining the lane perfectly. She teased him with her index finger and then worked the digit between his slick cockhead and foreskin. America howled as she massaged him and in a moment she once again felt the warning rumble strip as he nearly went off the road. C’mon, Al, I know you can stay in control. I’ll even up the stakes further…

It was suicidal but Canada had come to realize that since achieving independence that she was a serious adrenaline junkie. Whether it was hockey, barfights, cliffjumping,  or any number of extreme sports, she was there blood pumping, heart racing, eyes wide and excited. Maybe it was the lack of attention and recognition. Maybe England didn’t hug her enough as a child. Maybe she was batshit crazy. Maybe she’d leave questions like that for another time because the hard wet cock in her hand was begging for more attention.

America didn’t see the devilish smirk cross her features as she bent her head down again. She pulled his generous foreskin back up over the head of his cock and slid her tongue between rolling it around, flickering over his frenulum, the salty precome intermingling with her own saliva. She moaned softly and shifted on the seat as she heard him whimper softly, hardly unaffected. America was always sexy when he was needy like this. “Mmm...” Canada drew the loose, sensitive skin into her mouth and sucked, tugging it, letting it slip between her teeth. She heard the back of his head hit the headrest and the softly chanted “fuckfuckfuck” as she let her teeth graze and nip.

Ohgodohgodwe’regonnadie... flickered through his mind at the same time as fuckMattiedon’tstop... America was aware that his eyes were currently focused solely on the blue headliner and custom white running lights above when he felt the rumble strip again. His head snapped back up almost violently and he swerved just in time to avoid the guardrail for a second time that night. This time however, he overcorrected and found himself in the far left lane about to hit the divider. He almost broke the wheel with his grip and for once wished the old car didn’t have such easy power steering because he could’ve used a little fucking resistance when his body didn’t seem to want to function properly. He almost had a heart attack as he finally held the lane and another car sped past with a beep and series of swear words. They seemed to only increase in viscosity when they caught sight of Canada’s barely covered ass wiggling in the air on the passenger seat.
“Mattie-” he grit out intending to sound angry but instead ended up half sobbing the name.

Her response to this was a soft husky laugh as she released him from her mouth.
“Aww, does baby want to come for mommy?” she giggled- the statement nice revenge for earlier- giving his cock a hard squeeze. She started unrepentantly jerking him again: fast and steady. His spit slick cock throbbed at the attention and he nearly swallowed his tongue as he felt the heat diffuse, traveling up his spine throughout his entire fucking nervous system. His hips pushed up desperately of their own accord with her hand and he couldn’t remember for the life of him what the hell he was about to say but somehow he thought he was more excited than he should be at the thought of calling her mommy. Christs, did his cock really just get harder? Fuck, he was so close; everything had narrowed to that singular point and with both hands perched on top of the wheel all he could hear were the sounds of his own heavy breathing, the spltsplt of Canada’s hand jacking him off, and her soft restrained vociferations. The music- now Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me”- was nothing but a buzzing in the background.

She could feel the movement of his hips growing more pronounced in the confined space and slowed her ministrations accordingly; there was some advantage to knowing America’s body as well as she did. She waited until he looked down in helpless frustration, caught her eyes, and then with a decidedly nasty smirk, she let go entirely and smacked his dick.
“Fuck!” He exclaimed and narrowly avoided slamming on the brakes in the middle of the interstate. Oh please, you big baby, that was nothing compared to a fucking baseball hitting my junk. She sat back in her seat and pulled the dress back down again, refastening her seatbelt. A small disgustingly demure smile was still on her face as America swore up and down a blue streak next to her.
“Oh look, Al, there’s our exit,” she supplied breezily although there was still an excited huskiness to her voice that she couldn’t quite mask as she crossed one leg over the other.

He didn’t so much as look in her direction for the remaining seven minutes –fuck yes he was counting- to this particular dwelling of his. Cambridge avenue was quiet yet completely accepting of late night noise. It was also a few blocks down from Paul Lawrence Dunbar: a street which totally reinforced the mythos of three name street being ghetto death traps. Even as late as it was, he saw a few of his neighbors sitting on the porch diagonal across the street when he finally pulled in front of his own house. He could imagine the curtain pulling back on the window of old Miss Bonnie’s living room down the road like it usually did when he rolled up late blaring old metal. As he got out, his neighbor Gabriel shouted out from his seat in the old lawn chair “Yo Al! Give you five for yo ride, man! Got a raise at work, y'know I'm good for it!”

“Pssh. Man, everyone knows you an't got no job!” he yelled back powering down the lights and closing the door. "'sides, ah told yo broke ass it ain't for sale!" He was grinning as Canada also got out. She grimaced at the stickiness between her thighs ignoring the exchange. Jeez, and here I used to think women didn’t have this problem. “Can’t talk now!” America continued with a smirk. “You hear anything, don’t you dare call the fucking cops!” He punctuated that with a smack to her ass walking around the car. The two neighbors laughed.
"We cool, Al. You make noise like the last time though and Miss Bonnie'll be bangin the door down."
"Think she believed me when I told her it was cats?" Gabriel shook his head turning the music back up.
"Man ain't no cat I ever heard made a noise like that." Canada rolled her eyes as she tugged the hopelessly short skirt down again.
“Pigs,” she muttered under her breath.
“Oink oink,” she heard him snicker behind her as she started up the stairs.

The wide concrete steps up the porch were careworn but in good shape as Canada walked up them. She was amazed that all the crap was still there since America never bolted any of it down but then again there never seemed to be any bottles or trash littering his lawn either like the rest of the houses; it must have something to do with being a nation. A jacked up car that could’ve been the impala’s twin drove past blaring some sort of amped up gangsta rap hood shit lod enough to make the walls vibrate and it reminded Canada why America said that he kept a house here. He felt at home in every part of his country but especially here were everyone was “normal” as he put it: where no one gave two shits about his lawn being perfectly manicured, people barbequing on the front porch, or setting off fireworks in the middle of the street on the fourth.
“And can you believe they were gonna arrest them? I mean really, getting arrested on the fourth of July for setting off fireworks? Fire hazard my ass.” he’d said the day after the near riot.

America was quick to join her, taking the steps two at a time after glancing at the state of the flower beds in front.
“Got some flowers growing up through these weeds,” Miss Bonnie had said last week with that disapproving expression perfected by elderly women everywhere as if she weren’t the only one who even gave a damn. She was the only one who cared, really and he'd been half convinced she was gonna start ripping them out herself in that old housecoat and slippers. She'd done it before after all when she felt he wasn't doing it quite right. "You just rip 'em out like that, boy they'll be back in a week, you gotta get them at the root." He promised he had every intention of taking care of it. Well hell he wasn’t home all the time they knew that; course they all swore he was dealing drugs or some shit anyway and Miss Karen always lamented about “a good boy like him getting messed up in that nonsense.” Jeez he couldn’t exactly tell them what he really did for a living.

He fumbled with the keys before opening the massive silver door. He loved that this neighborhood was full of bright colors. His own house rather resembled a can of coca cola in color scheme with the red paint and silver accenting. Across the street was a can of Sprite, the door bright red like the cool spot. England had dramatically shielded his eyes the last time he was over this particular dwelling and had merely gotten a “God Bless America, right?” in response. England had muttered something about "chavs" and "Gloucester" that was summarily ignored. America heard sirens in the distance and really felt at home.
“Looks like the man’s out tonight, Mattie,” he commented as the door swung open and he turned the alarm off in the large entryway. "Must be the end of the month."
“Al, you’re the last person alive that needs to be talking about ‘the man’…” Canada mumbled before bending at the waist to unbuckle the ankle strap of her shoe.

She had only just brushed the buckle with her fingers when she heard the door shut loudly and felt America’s fingers tangling in her hair painfully and wonderfully. "ah ah ah..." He pulled her upright slowly, letting her raise up, his own guiding just a step before hers to stretch out the moment and the pull on her scalp watching her and savoring her herlplessness to follow. He released his grip just long enough to take hold of her shoulders and slam her back against the floral wallpaper. Like the other nations America was close with, England had been asked to decorate a room in this particular house; he had the entryway since it was the smallest non bathroom area he could frufru up. America carefully tempered his strength just enough to steal her breath but not hard enough to actually hurt; he wasn't that far gone yet but knew that when he was she would be too- enough to enjoy it. Canada looked at him catching her breath: caught off guard but not surprised. She merely licked her lips and inclined her head.
“Wells that’s-”

His mouth was on hers before she could finish speaking flush against her as if he were trying to meld them both into the wall. He kissed her with bruising force and she returned it with equal enthusiasm. Their glasses clinked and banged but remained intact if slightly askew. He tasted her lipstick, the odd chemical candy taste coating his mouth as he ravaged hers. Canada put her arms around him threading her long fingers through his sweat dampened hair as she pressed back against him. Her tongue swirled and pushed against his and their teeth hit more than a few times. She wasn’t going to come up for breath even as she tasted the coppery tang of blood. Neither of them knew whose mouth it was from. She breathed out into his mouth and the two of them wetly exchanged the same stale carbon dioxide like they were the last inhabitants of a dying world and saw spots dancing before their eyes.

America turned his head at last, dizzy and needy, Canada craning her head to keep licking and tasting his mouth. He shuddered and nipped back at her and God didn’t their borders still mold together perfectly even when their bodies weren’t the same. Especially those soft tits pressed to his chest and fuck he just wanted to bury his face and suck and- his hands on her shoulders slipped for just a fraction of a second but that was all she needed to pull his head back and shove them both off of the wall. She forced America’s head further back, forced him to bare the strong column of his neck and her lips were on it, kissing his throat, staining it pink. He growled as her teeth grazed his adams apple and realized belatedly there were far better places for his hands to be than on her shoulders.

America grabbed her ass and heard her moan when his large hands squeezed her round ass cheeks. She rocked her lower half into him, her pubic bone grinding frantically against his erection wishing like hell she could get more friction. He continued to knead her ass, spreading her, pushing her cheeks back together, and panting as she ground against him harder. “This is mine, Mattie,” he breathed out with a hard smack still seeing images of that fucking human with his hands all over her. She shivered and moaned as she sank her teeth into his trapezius; Michigan if she recalled correctly. Wherever it was it made his entire body quake and she lapped at the teeth marks with a soft purr asserting her own claim. “Ditto, Al.”

His only answer was another smack followed up by a possessive squeeze, those strong hands pushing and pulling and spreading her and his middle finger moved and teased the sensitive rim of her anus smirking at the involuntary spasm of the muscle. She rocked back against it the habit ingrained into her body but all too soon he moved it and she whined in disappointment. They’d taken a few meager steps towards the staircase but at this rate they’d never get up the fucking thing and she didn't want to wait to feel his hard length inside her. She smirked against his shoulder deciding to take matters into her own hands. For a cowboy like him it should be child's play. “Brace yourself,” was his only warning before she jumped.

There were times that America had forgotten his quiet brother’s true strength. She almost never tested the waters as a man and god how disappointed had he been feeling those weak little punches after their game of catch. He loved those moments when Canada forgot her insecurities and drove it home that they were far more evenly matched as brothers than she imagined; it made it all the sweeter when he finally won, too. His grip on her ass tightened instinctively and in an instant her strong thighs were around his waist, her arms around his neck. He licked his lips as they steadied themselves; after a step back an end table with an ugly vase was made a casualty. She looked down at him with a triumphant grin and a deliberate bounce of those beautiful tits. He met the expression with equal excitement and finally gave in to temptation to mouth her chest through the red fabric. Her face was flushed, the grin faltering just slightly as she spurred him on with a heel against his ass. “C’mon, cowboy, giddyap.”

He answered with a confident smile and moved one hand down, past her thigh to his zipper and carefully- fuck, it was hard to think with his face nearly buried in her chest- unzipped his jeans and freed his cock with a soft hiss. He couldn’t resist the urge to show off his strength- just a little bit anyway- ’cause he knew she loved it. He lifted her up with one arm easily: just enough to line his cock up between those parted swollen lips. His hand felt the sticky wetness on her inner thighs and it made his cock feel even more full and heavy as he rubbed her. All of that was for him and it was arousing as hell.
“Do you want it, baby?” he asked, shivering at the trickle of fluid he could feel pearling on his cock. She nodded, clenching her thighs together tighter, her fingers digging into his back fiercely.
“Christ fuck me already, eh?” she panted.

America slowly started to ease in because as much as his body was screaming to slam home in one hard thrust he remembered from experience this early into things she couldn’t take him all; she'd kicked him clean off the bed the only time he'd ever tried. Oh but he found soon enough that getting her there was the fun part! His grip on her ass tightened as he entered her cause fuck she was so hot and tight and right now this was all his. Canada might have had foreign relations with other nations as a male, but America was the only one who had her like this. He stopped a little over halfway in breathing heavily, feeling her pulsing around him, nails scrabbling at his back as he hit her resistance. Had it really been that long? Fuck, you’re shallow tonight, Mattie.

“Gonna enjoy opening you up nice and deep,” he breathed hotly against her neck. Her legs had a faint excited thrum and she ended up tearing a few rents in that ratty fucking T shirt as he stretched her pussy wide open. God she was so tight too it was almost like he'd never fucked her before. Canada had to remember the breathe; it'd been far too long since she felt a cock as thick and full as his inside her. She’d been fucking South Korea on and off –it hadn’t taken much convincing to get a device of her own- and he was nothing compared to America in size. Ah, but South Korea had such an amazing trick for getting her vagina to shorten and tighten and even his little prick felt huge after he’d conditioned it properly to grip im just so. Does Al even realize?.. Judging by his reaction in the club tonight, perhaps not. America seemed to think there was some inherent difference when it came to who she shared her body with as a female. He couldn’t give two shits when she was a guy. Ohh I wonder what you’d do if I told you just how bad I’ve been...

Seated as deep as he could go, America started moving slowly at first and then grunted as he felt her heel kick him again like he was a fucking horse. But like any good cowboy, he recognized the unspoken signal to go faster. You want it harder, baby? You got it. He moved far more easily than any man should have been able to with her wrapped around him and before she processed it, Canada felt herself slammed once again to the wall. Gainborough’s “Blue Boy” fell onto the floor and she was about to point out how pissed England was going to be about the damaged copy when America started thrusting into her harder. It was so much easier with the wall to brace her, to keep her from falling away from him; he was merciless.
“Godyesyesyes…” Her eyes were shut tightly letting her drown in the feeling of him inside her, stretching her, forcing her to accept his girth and his length.

With those strong hands on her ass, he made use of his crazy strength, lifting her up and down fucking her on his cock in time with his thrusts like she weighed nothing. Canada held on tightly, thrilled by how fucking powerful he was hardly noticing the scrape of the patterned paper against her back. She whimpered and gasped for breath, his body covering hers, his thrusts feverish and frantic and she tightened her thighs around him whenever she wanted to slow down and savor the feel of his broad back beneath her hands and feel every muscle work as he pounded her. “Fuck…fuck…” he panted as her greedy hole gave for him further, hot and wet with excitement, but still not enough cause he knew he could go further still. God he wanted to be completely in, feel his root splitting her the fuck open, hear her scream his name when it felt like he was buried up to her fucking throat.

“Ah...ah...” her cries were getting louder, her head bent, mouth slack as he fucked her. She felt the insistent tingle of what seemed to be a thousand shocks at once as he pushed her closer and closer. She whimpered and clawed at him, fisting her hands in that shirt. She'd definitely ensured that he wouldn’t be wearing it again. She felt so full it was almost painful and as he shifted slightly and it was then she realized exactly what that fullness was. Fuckfuck not now dammit... Usually the alcohol would’ve gone through her a lot faster than this but then again she’d been focusing on other matters and hadn’t even noticed the need earlier. Okay ignore it and maybe it'll go away.

It was an odd sensation that constantly bordered on without quite hitting pain. It was the need for two different types of release at once and the intensity made her shiver even as he continued to spear her. She thought if she came now it would be harder than she ever had before but-
“Al...” she whined pitifully. It was too much, too overwhelming. She couldn’t take it. She had to- “Al stop Ihaveto...” Her voice was almost too soft to hear above the sounds of his moans and the sound of their bodies hitting the wall. She squeezed her thighs together again, her forehead pressed to his shoulder scarlet with both embarrassment and excitement, her hot breaths fogging up Quebec. He slowed, agitated and confused, turning to look at her.
“What what?” Did it hurt? Didn’t sound like it hurt if anything it-
“Ihavetopee...” she hurried out against his shoulder and there was a frustrated disentangle of limbs as he pulled out with a groan.

Canada regained her footing and swayed slightly. Her legs were still shaking. She absently massaged her pubic bone, her full bladder intensifying the rush of blood.
“God, hurry up,” he growled starting towards the stairs swearing as he forced his aching cock back into his jeans frustrated. Christ that hurt; he had to practially bend his dick in half; the outline of it looked ridiculous in the tight jeans. He kept his eyes on her ass, a light pink and he could still see the fading contrast of pale skin where his hands had dug in. “If you had gone in the fucking club instead of slutting it up with that guy...” She stopped in the doorway and glared at him. “Oh shuttup. If you hadn’t been an hour late and strolled in looking like that...” Her eyes met his and she licked her lips at the half crazed possessive look. She felt warm, hot even and oddly powerful at that expression. God you never look at me like that when I’m a guy you sonofa-

She wasn’t sure what possessed her but the next words were out of her mouth before she could think to stop them. “C’mon, Al, it’s not like you’re the only one I fuck.” She turned and walked into the living room, her heels clicking on the hardwood as she felt for the light switch without waiting for him to answer her. There were so many sculptures in there that the Italies insisted America just had to have that she didn’t want to trip into or over one. The thought of toppling over a naked and armless lifesize Spain -and hadn’t that one almost caused a fight- was terrifying. Thankfully Italy Romano had vetoed the mustachioed Italian pizza chef sculpture vehemently.
“But all the pizza parlors have one, dude!” America had protested patting the round little man on the head.
“Chigi! That’s what’s wrong with this fucking country! Fucking stereotypes! And your fucking Olive Garden and-“
“I think it’s kind of cute, Lovi,” Veneziano had trilled. The poor thing ended up shattered in the resulting fight.

America’s hand was over hers before she realized he’d moved lost in her thoughts that she was. His face was right in hers as well, wild and intense.
“Not in that fucking body you didn't. Don’t you dare tell me-”
“You wanna know how Arthur knew I was wearing that thong? You wanna know why Yong Soo gave you those expensive rims for your birthday and said ‘no hard feelings’? You wanna know who else knows what my pussy tastes like?” He was torn between putting his hands around her neck and throwing her against the wall right there and showing her just who she belonged to.
“You... you can’t...” The red in his vision made it hard to think coherently.
“I did.” She shoved him back hard and when she looked at him the challenge in her expression was clear. What are you gonna do about it? To scared to hit a “woman”, Al? C’mon, brother, what are you waiting for? That’s how this works, remember? I piss you off, you try and invade me, I burn your fucking capital to the ground… Or maybe just once I can’t stand against you and the superpower of the world shows that he’s strong enough to just take what he wants.

She waited for a moment watching him, searching. He was stunned into silence, his hands at his sides balled up and fucking hell if she was a guy right now he’d have tackled her to the ground and kicked her ass. Is that what you want, Mattie? Cause damn it I'm not fucking scared of you! You don't own me and you don't tell me what to do. She could make him cry and make him crazy but she sure as fuck couldn't make him hit her like that 'cause goddamn it he could already hear England shrieking in his ear about not hitting a lady and- Is she walking away from me?! She turned away from him as if he were nothing and walked towards the bathroom door with a derisive sigh. He watched that sexy sway in her walk not caring if it was unconscious or not and how dare she walk away from him when he was the one that put that there.
"Y'know, Al... Arthur never hesitates." And with those words, something snapped.

Canada was at the bathroom door when he grabbed her again. She’d been expecting him to say fuck it and take a swing; she’d been hoping for it really so she’d have an excuse to duke it out with him. She had no idea why she felt so wired and aggressive; wasn't estrogen supposed to temper that? America knew that’s what she was expecting, too. He was ready when she spun and threw that amazing right hook as soon as she felt his hands on her. He pulled back, catching her hand with a wince- she was rather proud of that- and threw her against the wall with her arm pinned behind her back.
“Oh baby, you’re such a bad little slut, aren’t you?” He felt excited and pissed all at once as their eyes met.
“If that's what it takes to get your attention, Al. You never notice otherwise.” she answered quietly sounding almost for a moment like his brother. No, fuck no cause when she was like this she wasn’t his brother. She was in his fucking face, she was emasculating and she never seemed to realize that she was his and he couldn't make her bend the way he could his brother. You wanna make a fool outta me, Mattie? You gonna tease me and expect me to jump like a dog? Fuck no it doesn't work that way.

“Uh uh, baby, it doesn’t work that way. You changed the game and you forgot I’m the United States of fucking America.” She gasped and squirmed against the wall, the sudden impact reminding her why they were standing there in the first place. She clamped her legs together, ready to elbow him with her free arm.
“What the hell are you- AGH!”

He tickled her.