England never slept with France. Or America. Or anyone (Spain, he did on occasion when he was being rebellious back in his younger days. And once with Japan, though both of them were terribly awkward about it). But Prussia was special to England. England wanted him the most, wanted to be with him forever. And he had always been jealous of the way Prussia had fawned over Frederick the Great. Hmph.

In any case, he wasn't think about that right now. He was thinking about that scalpel cutting him open, sliding down his body. Oh, goodness, it turned him on! Why was he in these wretched casts?

"Gonna hurt," he purred. "Fun..."