Hi guys! This is my first fanfiction, and I finally gathered the courage to upload it, because, to be honest, I'm a bit insecure about my writing. Please tell me what you think and censure as much as you like! I absolutely love feedback!
Pairing: UKUS/USUK (expect a lot of 'switching it up' in later chapters, as well as potential hints at side pairings.)
Rating: M for "pee-pee friction pleasure"... whoopee. Plus, I'll be poking fun at things like religion, so if you're easily offended - I suggest you don't read it.
Genre: For now, it's just some cute little funny thing... but expect some action and adventure later on. Oh, and sex. Yes... lots and lots of sex.
Hetalia and its characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. This is simply a fanwork.
It was a discovery that could change history as they knew it. Results returned from the labs, and the green light was lit. A gigantic investigative effort was put through with help of the Egyptian government, and quicker than the speed of light, professors, students, scientists, and journalists alike from prestigious universities across the world flocked to the dig site like sharks to a school of fish. It was something no one could put a word to just yet, and so the discovery was nameless, and those scholars were encouraged to label it for themselves. It was chaotic, to say the least.
Amongst the "organized" pandemonium was Arthur Kirkland, a professor of history from Oxford, who was there for obvious reasons. His passion, of course.
A tall, pale man opened the door of Arthur's car, and as the Englishman stepped outside, he was immediately struck by the burning Egyptian sun. He felt like he was on fire. But alas, they were the flames of intrigue as he'd dubbed it. Nothing could get in between him and his research for the next month – or so he thought.
"Welcome to Egypt, Professor Kirkland. I do apologize for the unpleasant weather." The tall man said with a heavy Russian accent, noticing Arthur was wincing under the heat.
"Thank you! Oh, and don't worry about the weather." Arthur shrugged. "I've brought enough sunscreen to last the both of us a decade."
"Good, good." He said, guiding the man through crowds of other fanatics of the sorts. "Let me show you to your trailer. You'll be sharing with UCLA's forensic supervisor, I do hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." Arthur smiled, pausing. "Oh, I'm very sorry, I have forgotten to ask for your name,mind telling me? I'd enjoy having you as an acquaintance." he asked.
"Ivan. Ivan Braginski." The Russian smiled. "Pleasure to meet you!" He held out his hand, and the two shook on their newfound companionship.
They walked a little while longer, past the crowd of bumbling enthusiast and to a field of campers, RVs, tents, trucks, and the like. Ivan led him to a particularly polished looking trailer, and stopped at the door. "This is where you'll be staying. I do hope you find it accommodating." He said, then dropped a key into Arthur's hand. "I'll leave you to settle in now." And with that, he walked away.
"Nice fellow." Arthur mumbled to himself. He opened the door with ease, as it was not locked, then dragged his bags into the living space, only to see what looked like a college kid sitting on the couch in cartoon boxers, eating ice cream directly from a carton and staring blankly at a TV screen, then redirecting his attention to the doorway.
"Yo!" The man shouted. "You must be Professor Arty." He dropped his ice cream on the floor, got up, and walked over to hug the Englishman. Arthur's eyes widened at the impending invasion of personal space, but it was too late. "Whaddup, bro?"
"Uh, if you don't mind me asking… w-who exactly are you?" He asked, troubled by the lack of the man's clothing, and distance from his own body. He awkwardly split the hug. "A-And why did you just hug me?"
"Dunno, man. I just felt like hugging you, you looked kinda lonely. Like a guy that needs a hug." The kid babbled nasally. "Oh, and the name's Alfred Jones. It looks like we'll be roomies for the next few months!" He said, flailing his arms up into the air. It was then that Arthur realized Alfred had bunny slippers as well as knee-high argyle socks on to compliment his SpongeBob boxers.
Rather childish of him. But I best not judge a book by its cover, I suppose.
Arthur continued scanning, to try and figure out what this kid was about. He had golden hair with bangs that perked up and swooped down to his eyebrows, his thick-rim Ray Bans lining his bubbly blue eyes, and Arthur couldn't help but admit – a very, very provocative torso.
"S-So then…" Arthur gulped, trying to hide that he was clearly aroused. "You're the UCLA supervisor, aren't you?" Arthur asked.
"Yup! We were gonna have a professor come over here – but none of them were up for it, since the super bowl is coming up, and no one wants to miss that! So they sent moi! Odd, I know, but I will be graduating in a few months, and this is a great way to get a name in the field. Plus, I already have plenty of college credits, so I can graduate when I get back!" He said, enthusiasm pushing every word out more spastically than the previous.
Alfred suddenly remembered he left his ice cream on the ground and bent down to pick up the carton. Arthur couldn't help but stare at the American's posterior, squeezed into that small cotton garment of his. He immediately felt his face burn more than the Egyptian sun could ever hope to.
The student popped back up moments later with Ben and Jerry's in hand, and plopped himself onto the couch, which was littered with pizza boxes, beer bottles, a bong, and soda cans. Alfred patted the empty space next to him and tried to coax Arthur to sit and watch an episode of Dragon Ball Z with him.
"I-I'd rather not. I have work to do, you see. And anyway, I'm starved."
"Dude, I've got some pizza right here." He pulled out a greasy, gooey slice of horror out of an old box resting on the floor. "No need to walk all the way over to the food tent. Besides, the catering people are a drag, all they ever serve is pasta – spaghetti, alfredo, ravioli, doesn't matter, they're fucking pastaphiles, and I like variety in my life!" He ranted.
"F-fine." Arthur cautiously sat on the couch and took a slice of pepperoni and death with a strong resolve. He took a small bite out of it, and his face lit up as the rich taste of cheese and tomato melted in his mouth – so much for horror and death. "H-How did you even manage to find pizza out here? There's no civilization for miles."
"Egyptians, man. They must have magic carpets or something." He took a big spoonful of Rocky Road into his mouth. "I call 'em with little hope of getting any goods, right…" He spoke as best he could whilst chewing, his cheeks stuffed with icy goodness, "And here they bring me anything from the city I want for a reasonable price. They're great!" Alfred exclaimed, swallowing the cold substance, and letting out a deep aaaaah as it slid down his throat.
After what felt like a century of awkward staring, Alfred invited the man to watch an episode of Dragon Ball with him.
"I don't get it. What's the big deal about the quantity of his power being greater than nine thousand?" Arthur asked, frustrated with his confusion. "This show is nothing but screaming and disproportionate humans."
Alfred laughed. "So, Arty, you got a girlfriend or anything?" He questioned out of the blue.
"N-no…" Arthur said meekly. "Not quite my, er, line of work… if you know what I mean."
"Really?" Alfred squeaked. "A handsome guy like you, not smooth with the ladies?" Alfred giggled.
"T-That's not what I meant, er – never mind…" Arthur squeezed the bridge of his temple, pondering just how dense this man was.
"Oooooh!" Alfred said, as if he just grew a third eye and solved the puzzle of the universe. "So you're g- yeah, I get it." He giggled. "It's all good, man." He said, wrapping his arm around the Englishman's shoulders. "Soooo, you got a boyfriend then?"
Arthur sighed. "No, not really. I haven't the time, you see." He laughed a little, quite bitterly. Why was he telling Alfred all this? Was he really all that comfortable with the man? He needed to know more about him, surely. Age was a good place to start. "S-So how old are you, if you don't mind me asking..."
"22" Alfred blurted, followed with a loud burp. He scratched his balls, and then rubbed his nose.
Jesus Christ, he's a bloody child!
"You?"
"Excuse me?"
"You… how old are yah'?"
"I hardly think you need to know. But if you insist…" He gulped. He really wasn't proud of his age, in fact, he was rather conscious about it. "I'm… 33." He tried to laugh it off, but it just sounded awkward.
"No way, man! You're like a foxy granpa or something!" Alfred tightened his grip on Arthur.
"Foxy granpa?" The fuck was all Arthur could think. He wasn't that old.
Alfred laughed. "Oh course! You're like an old guy, but you have this raw sexual magnetism about 'cha. Maybe I'm just not used to the accent, but hell, you're pretty damn handsome, bro." He said shamelessly, scooping more ice cream and shoving it down his throat.
Arthur felt molested, and yet, oddly flattered. "T-Thanks…"
Eventually, Arthur had unpacked, showered, and changed into some clothing he dubbed versatile – he truly had no clue what his newfound roommate had in store for him tonight. He slipped into a pair of light khakis and a button down shirt, and surrendered.
He carefully removed his contact lenses, the same he had done hundreds of nights before, and to cure the blurriness, placed his rimless bifocals over his head. He looked over his shoulders, to examine the room Alfred had ever so-slightly introduced him to.
This has to be the only room in here. So then… why is there one bed? That Jones bloke can't possibly be willing to sleep on that couch of his. Hell, I'd dread even sitting on it a second time…
He looked down at his wrist. 9:05.
Alfred told me to be out by 9. Does he want to use the shower? Or…
Arthur Emerged from the room to see a curious bunch sitting on the floor of the living space, "Um, Alfred, mind telling me who this lot is?" He demanded, resting his hands on his hips.
"Oh, hey Arty!"
Arthur glared back at the nickname. He had problems tolerating such terms of endearment.
"These guys? They're the forensic crew! We share the lab, so I invited them to a welcome party for yah'!" Alfred exclaimed, in his original garb, only with an added wife beater. He signaled the Englishman to sit down in the little circle of Indian-style sitting hippies, and he almost unwillingly complied, "Guys! Introduce yourselves!"
"Alright! I'll start off!" A shriek emerged from an intimidating-looking pale man. "The name's Gilbert Weilschmidt!" The albino shouted in a heavy German accent. "I'm from the University of Berlin with my brother... who's a total pussy for not coming to this kick-ass party!" He lifted his glass, which chimed when it hit Alfred's. Sinister laughter emerged from the both of them.
Shit. Party. I don't like the sound of that. Not one bit. Not at least when he says it.
"Ho-ho! I'm next! Hello! I'm Im Yun Soo! From Seoul!" A short dark haired man howled joyfully.
He doesn't look like he could do much harm, but still…
Arthur's eyes dragged onwards in the circle to arrive at a very large breasted woman, who seemed a little out of place in the boisterous mess.
"Oh, uh, h-hello there… professor. I'm Katyusha Braginskaya. F-from the Ukraine." She said nervously.
And next…
"Mathias Køhler. Hells yeah!" And with that, the Denmarkian high-fived his neighbour, a woman who had quite a dominatrix vibe to her.
She laughed sadistically, eyeing the Englishman. "Elizaveta Héderváry, Berlin." And with that, she licked her lips and sent a wink to the now cringing Arthur Kirkland.
He averted his eyes to a fellow with some actual pigment, more than Alfred, who was rather tan, in fact. "Hola, I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, but you can call me Tony!" He was a little less vicious, but still dangerously out-going, in Arthur's opinion.
And finally, the seventh seal of the apocalypse was released. Arthur's eyes widened as he sat and withered in fear at the sight. It was Satan himself, in a young girl. What looked like a college freshman.
"The name..." She growled, fire in her ice cold eyes. "is Natalia Arlovskaya." Arthur never claimed to read auras, but he was getting odd vibes from her.
The two awkwardly stared at each other until Alfred abruptly butted in with the nights plans. "We will be playing a game I like to call Temple-Strip-Run." He announced. "I do assume you all have iPhones." He said, pulling his out and waving it around. "So, here's how you play!" He introduced the basic game play to the group, "And the stripping part comes in like so..." He let go of the screen, letting his character fall and die. "First person to die has to strip a garment. And we play till' someone's naked!" He said with a sadistic trill in every syllable. He redirected his view over to Arthur "I thought the Temple Run game was very appropriate for our current situation. And, I assume you have already downloaded the app."
Arthur sighed. "Yes." He rolled his eyes. "My niece downloaded it on my phone, and I don't really know how to delete it..." He tried laughing at himself, which didn't work so well for a cynic like him. So he helplessly scratched the back of his head until everyone stopped staring at him like he was fresh bait.
Alfred nodded, and turned to face the rest of the circle. "Phones out, and... 3... 2... 1!"
The eight frantically tapped the screens of their thin devices. Something Arthur always considered rather daft, but nevertheless, he didn't want to end up naked in a van with a bunch of college hippies. Unfortunately, looking at the mad determination on all of their faces, he could tell they were practically prodigies of this trivial application – and he was doomed.
It wasn't long before his hand slipped and the avatar ran right into a tree. He pretended not to notice, hopefully no one else would. But, the damned device unleashed a foul screech; one the kids all knew meant they had a looser. They all paused their games and glared at Arthur.
He wore shame well. Or so they all thought. Hell, they still think.
"F-Fine... since it's what you all want..." He grew red, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside after sliding it off his thin arms.
Their faces all wore different genres of the same lust.
I knew I should've shaved that off damned garden path when I had the chance. They're all staring now...
Arthur couldn't do anything but sit there as the others' eyes examined his body, judging every inch of the bare flesh. Oh well, it was only his upper body. He convinced himself he'd win the next round. But, he was wrong.
Yet again, all eyes were on him.
"Do I have to? I mean, can I not have a handicap or something? I'm quite bad at this game you see, and..."
"It's part of the rules!" Elizaveta protested, mid-Arthur's bluff. "Now..." She raised one eyebrow. "Go on, off with those trousers." She coaxed. Arthur merely grunted and complied, babbling curses throughout the process, but, within a matter of seconds, Alfred and his friends had stripped this man of all but his Union Jack-clad boxer briefs.
Fine, fine, as long as I have my underwear on, I'm fine. I just can't lose again.
Turn left, jump, turn right... this is easy! Perhaps I'm getting adjusted to it now. I can win- or at least not lose. Yes, this is elementary indeed.
A few minutes passed, and Arthur successfully navigated the temple for his pant's sake. Suddenly, however, the running became more rapid; running and jumping had to be better coordinated. It wasn't long before he found himself struggling.
"No, no, no, NO!" He shouted as he lost his 'footing.' He hung his head the moment the monkeys sang. Yet again, eyes eagerly flocked to him.
He sat there, still, gulped, and finally slipped his thumbs between the elastic of his boxers and his hips. They remained there, shaking as he gradually expanded the distance from his flesh. He tensely dragged them down. The further they'd go, the redder he grew - the crowd almost as deep a crimson as he was when he finally kicked the shorts off his ankles.
"There!" He snarled. He wouldn't admit it, but he was pleased by their reactions. They seemed impressed, and so a boastful smile emerged on his face. "Now that I'm completely naked... who's next?" He smirked, raising an eyebrow.
He heard booming laughter from Alfred – a laugh that wiped the smirk right off Arthur's face. "I think we're done here." His hysterical laughter regressed to a giggle. "You're naked: Mission complete!"
Arthur glared for what felt like hours at the boy, his acidic lime eyes burning all that he stared at. Alfred made the cheekiest face possible; stared right back. No words were spoken, but many a message exchanged. The two of them were surprisingly fluent in eye contact. And as green burnt, the rich blue calmed. And Arthur found his anger dissolve into an azure ocean of calm.
"The night's not over, though!" Alfred smiled. The parabola of his smile calculated that he wasn't possibly letting Arthur redress any time soon. And maybe a hint of arousal, but Arthur dismissed that simply to be safe. He'd reconsider that variable when they were alone, though.
Suddenly, emerging from behind Alfred, the beast of many heads, now spinning in the middle of this small circle of theirs, and he saw a potential collision.
As the bottle spun round and round, it landed on the poor crying woman. And before Arthur could associate a name to the act, Elizaveta had taken Katyusha by the mouth.
The men cheered, Arthur just sort of sat there, shivering in all his nakedness. Again, the old beer bottle span, landed, and Katyusha nervously pecked that boisterous German on the lips, much to Gilbert's pleasure. His hands hovered over her breasts, tempted to touch, but had the decency not to.
A few more spins, a few more meaningless kisses, and now it was Alfred's turn. He had just received it from what Arthur considered Satan herself in the flesh, when he flicked the empty Budweiser bottle into a hazardous twirl. Around and around, the bottle went. Arthur's heart skipping a beat every time the neck pointed towards him.
On one of its rotations, it ceased moving. The neck of the bottle directly pointing towards Arthur, and his heart beat to the rhythm of the screaming masses. He had seen Wormwood, the comet to destroy it all, but he remained calm.
"Y-You ready for this, man?" Alfred said, pulling him out of his thought train of metaphor. He'd really need to stop doing that, he'd just been studying the book of Revelation, despite not being a religious man himself (he was quite the opposite) and had found it dominate his every thought. The end can do that. But so can a beginning, in fact, even more so. And a beginning is exactly what he felt pressed against his lips. A spark, an explosion, and a cooling universe - Arthur felt transported with only a teasing kiss.
Using the language of eyes again, he begged Alfred not to stop. Green algae now infesting pools of blue, oxygen began pumping through them and their new universe.
Dammit, I'm not even a scientist. What's wrong with me tonight?
... But he is. He. Him. Alfred. The man kissing me right now. Dear lord, if you're real... which, I doubt... but still, don't... don't... let this end. Just pause time, if even on the quantum level, freeze this moment... or somehow, let it last...
Arthur was suddenly hit with the realization that the kiss had been going on for a significant amount of time, and had escalated from a silly game to something burning with lust and desire. Was Alfred into him? And more importantly, where these hippies just going to sit there and watch with their phones flashing away.
He can't be. He said it himself, I'm a granpa. Then again, he also mentioned raw sexual magnetism... either way... I just want to sack all these kids and take this Alfred character right now... careful!... you're naked and people are watching you... don't get too carried away... yet.
Gently, Arthur pushed on Alfred's chest, hoping the younger man would understand that he wanted to resume this later, and their lips separated ever-so-awkwardly. Turning around, they saw a mix of shock and arousal on the faces of Alfred's colleagues.
A few lips leaked a breath held back from whatever impression they were under.
Arthur cleared his throat. "I, uh, I'm going to retire for the night. Y-You guys have fun..." And with that, he slowly boosted himself up off the ground, and casually walked towards the bedroom door. He received a few goodnights, and a silence that spoke volumes via Alfred; with a stare that could convey a message like a book can. Arthur felt a chill down his spine as he looked back at the group of rag-tag college hipsters, said his final goodnights, and shut the door behind him.
Feeling no need to put clothes on, he hopped into bed, slammed his face in the pillow, and without a second thought, dozed off into a blank sleep.
No dream, no thought, just rest. That is, until, he felt a pushing at his side, and a soft whisper. It was a voice he'd heard before, but not familiar in tone. After a moment of wake, he'd deduced it was Alfred.
"Arty..." He whispered. "Roll over. This is my side of the bed." He pushed one more time, Arthur unresponsive due to loss in his own thoughts. A light shove, and the Professor finally made room. Back in reality, he decided to interrogate the boy, ignoring the fact that his fears were confirmed, and they were sharing a bed.
"Alfred, do tell... what was that whole kissing affair about?" He questioned, as nonchalantly as he possibly could, still somewhat asleep.
"Dunno. It just sorta... happened." Alfred smiled. "Like, it's an aura thing really." He said, dragging his words, and bringing the statement to a halt.
"Do go on." Arthur demanded.
"Well, you know, like... ... ... I just sorta feel people's vibes, and I act off them. It's a matter of existentialism really. And so, I judged the situation, and I... kinda reacted on instinct..." The American cogitated.
"You bit my bloody lip." Arthur protested.
"It's a matter of desire, my frie..."
"—Look!" Arthur interrupted. "What you're trying to say is that you're physically attracted to me, am I getting it right? There's no need to sprinkle such a casual statement with cryptic hippy speech." The Englishman ranted; a slip of cockney escaping in his tirade. "Now..." He breathed heavily, nearing Alfred who was lying in bed comfortably. "Fucking do what you did again!"
Arthur pounced on top of the American, violently pressing his lips against the other's, and sucking Alfred into the kiss, who replied by stealing dominance immediately. Arthur hummed at the feeling of the other man's tongue exploring the surface of his own.
And as quickly as it began, Alfred ended it. Closing their exchange with another bite to the lower lip, he parted them, only receiving a look of confusion and rejection from the man on top of him.
"Look, Arthur, I-uh... I think we should get to know each other a little first..." He suggested, gesturing Arthur to get off of him.
"T-That's a good idea. I do apologize for taking things a little far..." Arthur said, shamefully.
Alfred smiled, cupping one of Arthur's angular cheekbones, "It's fine, really. I started it anyway," he said. He then paused for a moment before continuing, "We'll most definitely pick this up later, anyway," he mentioned suggestively as ever, and smiling in the same fashion.
I don't get it. If he can predict we're going to shag, why not just save the pain and do it now?
Oh, I get it...
Arthur rolled his body away from the already asleep Alfred.
... ... he must be looking for something more.
He shut his eyes.
He'd be the first.
Arthur awoke feeling rather serene considering the previous night. It was the first time in years he actually wanted to get out of bed and go to work. He could hear Alfred outside, fiddling with what sounded like a coffee machine. And that gave him all the more motivation to get up.
He quickly swung himself out of bed and threw on a robe, opening the door and walking out of the bedroom in a very youthful fashion he used to doubt he still was capable of.
"Good morning Alfred." He smirked as he saw the student attempting to concoct a cup of Joe with a rather peculiar looking device, instruction manuals in every language ever written pooling around his ankles. He had on his lab jacket, however the sharp looked was dulled with torn jeans rolled up to his knees and a v-neck with some girly cartoon loosely hanging over his torso. It was practically impossible for this man to look somewhat professional, Arthur reasoned.
P-Ponies? Is he a loon?
The American let out a thunderous gust of a yawn. "Mornin', Arty," He paused to rub his eyes, "You get a good night's sleep?"
"Actually," Arthur replied. "It's the best sleep I've had in months!" He lied, however – it was closer to years. But he wasn't going to outright admit that.
"Good, good."Alfred smiled. "Sorry if I seem a bit bitter. I'm not a morning guy if you know what I mean..."
"It's fine... neither am I."
"Then you'll be needing some coffee, my good man," Alfred exclaimed, energy somehow instantaneously revitalized.
"Oh, well if you insist... Black would be lovely, thanks."Arthur smiled, picking up a copy of The New York times that was resting on the dinette table. He skimmed through the headlines, realizing he was glad to have escaped from all the bustle of the first world, and then wondering how Alfred even got his hands on it. "How did you ship this out here? I mean, this is today's paper..." Arthur questioned.
"I have people." Alfred bragged, "People with helicopters and a lot of free time on their hands."
They botch chuckled.
After a short morning exchange, it was time for them to disperse to their fields of practice. Arthur had been placed on an investigative team along with scholars from various other regions of the world. On the list was Kiku Honda, a prestigious anthropologist from the University of Tokyo, and Roderich Edelstein, a supervisor from the University of Berlin and fellow historian.
Upon meeting, handshakes and formal introductions were exchanged – much unlike Arthur's meeting with the American boy, clad in only underwear and spread out on a dirty couch. It was then he realized how much he fancied informalities, though that he'd never admit to such a taste. He instead focused on enjoying the presence of the more socially unadventurous. It was more comfortable, but less amusing – which he found suitable for the occasion.
They were led by a silent and ever-so-curious man to the site: the most intriguing discovery of the century, or so it had been said to be.
It was a metallic disc of the sorts, lying in the desert sands, reflecting the sun in every which direction. It didn't, however, resemble anything of Egyptian architecture.
I was not even so much as briefed on exactly what this was, and now looking at it, I can see why. This was kept rather confidential... Oh, entirely so. It could change everything.
"We have commissioned carbon dating of the structure, sending in some metal samples of the exterior. The team is here, today, still finalizing some of the tests – but most of the results are written here..."Looking down at the paper, the curious man continued. "According to this data, what we're seeing here consists of materials not found on this earth. Even so, it has landed here approximately 10,000 years ago. We can assume this due to sand samples we had found clinging to the slightly magnetic exterior, and carbon dating the deepest layer. It is believed to have been a ship of the sorts, ferrying certain artefacts across the ancient world. It contains idols from Incan civilization, Chinese writings predating even the Xia, Descriptive Indian writings depicting what we believe to be alien abductions, and what appears to be the remains of-" The man stared at the paper, speechlessly. It was as if he'd just seen the face of God – drunken with a drawing of an erect penis on his cheek and I'm stoopid written across his forehead. He gulped, and continued. "a corpse, one not completely human, resembling a little grey man with large eyes, and no mouth. We have sent it to the lab for an autopsy; you are free to examine it there." Then froze after reading it, initially shocked, he walked away, leaving the group to examine the ship on their own.
"Well, let's go in. Shall we?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence which followed the rather bold statement just read to them.
"Hai. I agree." Kiku replied, and the group apprehensively entered the ancient vehicle through a doorway which seemed to have had its doors torn out. The remaining bindings suggested automatic doors.
They were surrounded what looked like the interior of a ship thousands of years beyond the technology of their own, yet had been sitting in the sand for millennia. Arthur, as well as the others, were initially intrigued by what they saw.
Arthur quickly scanned the inside, the interior being one complete circle, it was easy to get a general glimpse. His attention was quickly drawn to what appeared to be a dashboard, with switches, and buttons, and all sorts of mechanisms embedded on what seemed to be a control unit "T-The writing, it's in Sumerian." His eyes widened. "But over here, it's in Sanskrit," he said observing the second control panel. "So, we can presume both languages have astronomical roots, and our alien visitors were just as multicultural as we are today." He felt tears about to run down his face, "This is marvellous!" He exclaimed.
"Yes, and have you seen this?" Roderich added, bringing every one's attention to a shining display mounted to the wall near the entrance.
"T-The Rosetta stone?" Arthur's eyes widened.
"Indeed." The Austrian agreed.
"It's diffidently the text, but it's written on a chrome tablet. How queer..."
"You know what this means, right?"
Arthur nodded. "Alien interference in human history, I presume."
Furthering into the ship, they came across many a shock, and quite the intrigue. So many commonplace theories of human development were being rewritten, and overridden, becoming more complex, and questions arose out of the most basic facts. The idea that everything could be rewritten crossed their minds even more than the thought of all the money they'd make, and that's saying something.
"We should head home." Kiku eventually suggested. "The sun will be setting soon, and with political tension the way it is, even if the site is secured, it is wise to be inside."
Everyone silently agreed and made way to their shelters. Arthur let out a sigh as he climbed the stairs to the door of his living space. All the information he gathered was sinking in still, and his knees were practically shaking. The more he thought, the more questions popped up. It was a historic, and even a scientific jack pot. He wondered if Alfred would be as enthusiastic about the discovery as he was.
He entered to find Alfred on the couch with a box of Chinese food in hand, noodles draping from his mouth, and greasy chopsticks pulling slippery foodstuffs out of the carton. His eyes gleamed up at Arthur as he walked in.
Despite the fact the man was wearing footies - Arthur's attention wasn't firstly drawn to the young man. It was, instead, directed to his partner, sitting next to him on the couch with a tray of sushi on his lap.
"Uh... Alfred. That littler, er... grey thing. What is it?" Arthur twitched.
"Live specimen." He smiled. "Found him wandering the desert looking for food. Apparently he was abandoned by his parents here. As price for letting him stay here, he's going to give us all the information we need." Alfred said oh-so-nonchalantly, and then slurped some noodles from between his chopsticks.
"Oh..." Arthur stared in intrigue, holding back his jaw from dropping like a fool's would. Having not processed everything today, he might've fainted from just the sight of the small being eating sushi with no mouth, however he was almost prepared for it, considering the biggest question floating around in his head after viewing all the alien scenery was will they return?
"So this is the professor you were talking about?" A somewhat blank yet almost cute voice asked.
Alfred nodded, and the foreign creature turned towards Arthur, and practically with a smile, said, "Nice to meet you! I am Tony. I am here to answer all your questions, and I can only assume you have many. Your species has always been the type to ask questions."
"Oh." Arthur smiled back, still a little shocked from the calibre of the situation, but nevertheless, grinned. "Professor Kirkland. But, considering you're most likely a more advanced being than I," he laughed, trying to crack a joke, however, no one else laughed, "You can just call me Arthur." Tony nodded in return. "... Alfred already calls me 'Arty,' anyway."Arthur mumbled.
"Hey, Tony, tell him about that time you met Hitler and slapped him in the face, or about your pal Jesus, oh and don't forget to mention how you helped the Doctor save your home planet."
Never mind Hitler, never mind Jesus, HE KNOWS THE DOCTOR!
... wait... I know Hitler was real, but...
He decided it was safer to hide his obsession with Doctor Who for the time being, and focus on something historically relevant.
"Jesus? As in the bible Jesus?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. Being the Richard Dawkins fanboy he was, he never believed the biblical figure to be more than a mere man... but alien, that spoke whole worlds of sense.
"Yes. He is from a planet a lot like yours, and so life evolved very similar to yours, however they are millions of years ahead of you in evolution. The Jesus you hear about today was my friend. You can meet him if you want." Tony explained.
Alfred jumped. "I want to!" He raised his hand like a child in primary school would. "And can we meet Vishnu and Zeus while we're at it?"
"Sure. I can contact them, and we can all have dinner here tonight, if that is okay with you."
"Yeah! I'll order some pizza!"
Tony nodded. Arthur's jaw dropped. Then his entire body dropped. All the data he had gathered that day hit him. Everything he never believed in just became real. It was too much for any man to take.
Looking out the window at the rain, a locked door barricaded with a chair behind him, he would sit in the windowsill, reading, writing, and just imagining a different world. One where things that were too good to be true, could, in fact, be true.
Below he could hear his parents screaming. Curses echoing through the many vacant halls of the mansion, he'd eventually get sick of it and pull out his Sony D-50, tuck his ears into the heavy headset, and lull himself to sleep to his favourite Sex Pistols CD.
"Arty, hey Arty!" An accent out of place cried. "Wake up! Wake up!"
He opened his eyes to see the bumbling boy's blue eyes hovering over his own.
He blinked his own eyes a few times, rubbed them, and stared back blankly at Alfred.
"You missed dinner!" Alfred pouted. "It was really fun, too! Jesus was there, and he turned my Pepsi into gin and tonic, and then Rasputin got wasted. It was hella epic!"
Arthur rubbed his eyes again. "Rasputin. As in Grigori Efimovich Rasputin?" He squealed, practically like an excited fangirl - which, when it came to history, he very much was in some cases. His energy, completely revitalized in seconds.
Alfred nodded. "He's passed out in the bathroom now. The rest of the guys left, though."
Arthur practically shoved Alfred off of him and ran for the bathroom. "I have to see this!" He exclaimed, springing himself off the mattress.
He almost kicked the door of the bathroom open, and once he entered, he saw a bearded man wearing a flannel and acid wash jeans lying on the ground surrounded by emptied Pepsi cans. The face clearly of Russia's famous love machine, and a dirty beard with pizza remains in it - even with his eyes closed, it was obvious this was no doppelganger.
"That's him alright." Arthur gulped. "H-How did he get here. Is he an alien too?"
"Duh!"
"Should we wake him up?"
"... Nah."
"I still need to get a shower, and I am not cleaning myself with... THAT in the room! It is very likely he'll want to shag anything near him when he wakes up, and I am not taking that risk. Especially if I'm naked!" He ranted.
"Fine, I'll throw him in the closet or something." Alfred rolled his eyes, almost as if his mother asked him to clean the dishes... or take out the trash, for that matter. However, he quickly threw the large man over his shoulder with little to no effort, and carried him away.
Dang that boy is strong!
... Say, I wonder when he deems we've "gotten to know each other." I'm growing rather impatient.
It was true that Arthur, much like the ancients he so loved, viewed sex as a casual thing. It wasn't always about love, no, it was simply an exchange of pleasure - or a weapon for that matter, and a powerful one, too. But never, ever, did he view it as an exchange exclusive to a married couple, or even two people deeply in love. It was significant, however. How appropriate, he thought, to be in Egypt, where sex was a driving human energy. Shame had no part in it, in fact, it was an activity of the gods. Arthur held this belief to the highest regard.
Throughout college, he was known as the Genghis Khan of frat boys. However, after graduating he retired somewhat. Not even a monogamous partner, he was alone again. But this time, he had his work, which he loved just as dearly one could another being. However, withdrawal symptoms, however rare, still surfaced. He needed someone, he didn't want to admit it, but he did.
Hm, bloody Americans. They hold sex to this sacred regard. I hate it.
As the warm shower water beat down on his back, he not only worried about what they'd do with Rasputin's body, but also what he'd do with his own. Maybe if he pushed thins too far with Alfred, the man would view him as a whore, or even cheap. But it was impossible to deny the raging sexual tension between the bloody American and he, it was better to relieve it than to be strangled. Right?
Later that night, the two of them awkwardly stared at each other from their sides of the bed, almost fearful of lying down. Almost declaring them as the lovers Alfred was so eager to postpone dubbing of. Still in dead lock, they eventually found themselves lying on their sides gawking at each other, reading each other's minds fluently, and hesitating to speak a word of it, and finalize the eminent forces of awkward in the bedroom.
Arthur finally found the courage to cough, a quite pathetic attempt to slay the awkward dragon, nevertheless, the beast had left –for now. "So, Jesus... you met him, eh?"
"Mhm."
"Did the bloke have a dad? Was I wrong all this time? Did I publish five books for nothing?"
"Sorta."
"Excuse me?"
"Sorta." Alfred rolled his eyes. "I mean, he had a father, but Nietzsche killed him."
"Hm?"
"Well, you know when he said 'God is dead?'"
Arthur nodded, perplexed as ever.
"He meant it. He did the deed himself."
The Englishman gasped. "No! Really?" He began laughing hysterically. "You're joking. You can't possibly mean that..." He wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, "... Oh, you're too funny, Jones. You really are too funny..."
"Dude, I'm serious." He giggled, "Just ask Tony. Or even Jesus!"
At this point, Arthur didn't know what to accept as fact and what not to. Constantly, factual barriers were being broken down, so he eventually had to open up to it. He never thought History could be rewritten, or even approached like science was, but that was what Arthur had been observing. He could only imagine the controversy that would arise if he published something about his findings here - which, at this point, was a given. It was something so good, one could not simply avoid sharing it with the world.
He shrugged. "Jones, what am I to do with you?" He asked as his voice sunk into what was cutesy to almost seductive in nature.
"Eh?"
"You silly boy," He took a deep breath, and inched himself ever so slightly closer to Alfred, "I barely know anything about you, and ye-"
"We can change that." Alfred interrupted. "I'll show you everything – if you let me."
"I thought you wanted to wait." Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"I've waited long enough," He sat himself up and situated his body over Arthur's. "And what's a better way of getting to know each other than this?" He said, straddling the Englishman as he lifted his Slayer tee over his head. "After all, a picture is worth a thousand words."
Where'd his silly one-piece go? Ah well, perhaps he is better in just his boxers.
"Oh my, Mr. Jones... you've proven yourself to be a rather enticing man." Arthur said, unbuttoning his shirt.
"Please, call me Alfred." He said, planting a kiss on the forehead of the professor. He lowered himself down on top of the man, and then proceeded to attack his neck, leaving small marks and paths of saliva running down to Arthur's collar bones. Each nip earning him a guttural moan from his other, his tongue quickly followed each and every hot prick, causing the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck to stick straight up. All this while Alfred removed all the clothes from Arthur's body with ease.
Alfred must have noticed the Englishman's boner, and gave said organ the attention it deserved, causing Arthur's throaty groans to escalate into pleading whimpers. "Heh... just this and you're already this big. Dang, you're just killing all the old man stereotypes, aren't 'cha?" Alfred whispered, for once in his life.
Arthur couldn't help but blush. He could only lie there and attempt to suppress his moans, which he put little effort into. He wasn't proud of it, but his claim-to-fame in college was having extremely loud sex. However, after college he never found himself in a similar situation, and so he was not prepared in the least bit when he felt his boxers slide down a bit and suddenly his entire manhood was surrounded by the hot, wet interior of Alfred's mouth.
He shrieked to the high heavens as Alfred's lips gracefully moved about his shaft, every molecule of his humid mouth supplementing the feeling of absolute bliss. Arthur could feel something of a satanic death metal growl emerging from his throat.
It's been years since I've had a good blow job... actually, it's been precisely a decade since I've actually had one... bloody hell, I'm pathetic.
"Al... I can't..." His desperate voice cried out as he felt a complete loss of control. He tried his hardest to avoid bucking his hips right at the boy, but his efforts were to no prevail.
Alfred released Arthur's cock from his moist grip. "Not just yet, hun." He said, then dragged his eyes up Arthur's body, taking notice to ever quivering detail, and then finally staring into the man's pupils, sinking into green lust, getting smaller, and smaller.
Arthur could feel Alfred's fiery blue gaze, he could almost read Alfred's thoughts by it. It was an interesting feeling indeed, being read like a book by a semi-stranger. It was informal, it was impolite, it was crude, and – it was passionate – and it was something Arthur had longed for his entire life.
And then, Alfred whispered into his ear, "You see..." he began, hesitantly, "this is my first time with another man, and so... it'd be better if you were to take the lead." He said with a deep fusion of humility and desire.
Arthur gulped. "If you insist..."
Oh how all the heat released from the sun could not tantamount to me right now...
The older man hesitantly flipped the two of them over, and stared down at his prize.
My god, is he aware of just how provocative he looks?
He found himself running the back of his hand down Alfred's cheek, feeling the American's soft tanned skin against his own dry and pale surface. After a look that could only mean "hurry the fuck up, old man," Arthur quickly returned to the task at hand. He almost immediately slipped his long, thin fingers under Alfred's boxers, this time displaying Batman. The American let out a small, short grunt, followed by sounds of the same nature when Arthur began slowly stroking the article.
"Arthur! Dammit you amazing bastard you!" Alfred screamed.
My, my... that'd be the first time the bloke didn't call me "Arty."
"Calm down, love, I'm not even doing that much... but," Arthur left what he was doing, and quickly discarded of Alfred's underwear, "If you really want something special..." He grinned.
Alfred nodded. "P-Please... do me." Arthur could tell, it was taking all the man had just to push out those words, and so he treated them as special. They were words to be held to the holiest of holies, and when asked in the proper context, one could only oblige.
"One second, let me retrieve something of importance" He muttered. Then quickly left his stance over the aroused lad, and began rummaging through his bag.
I wasn't expecting to use this, but thank heavens I brought it out here.
Grabbing the never-opened bottle, he quickly returned to his place on top of Alfred. Straddling the boy, he let him catch a glimpse of the lubricant, which triggered a sort of spark in the American.
"You, uh.."
"Hush, it was gag gift from an old friend is all. I never even fathomed the idea I would actually have the opportunity to use it..."
"B-But Earl Grey scented? Really?"
Arthur glared at the buy, hoping he'd let it go. He placed his index finger over Alfred's lips and flicked the cap off the object in question. Dragging his finger off the taller man's lips, he pushed a dab of the gooey fluid out of its tube and onto the same digit that occupied Alfred's lips just seconds ago. He teasingly waved it in the man's face before smearing some of the oily mixture around Alfred's entrance, causing him to let out a excited gasp. Yes, the sound of getting exactly what he wanted, oh how it was almost childish.
In the midst of the endearment, Arthur decided to slip in his lubed up index, causing Alfred to grunt as Arthur's finger rubbed his insides. Shockingly, he was able to udder a simple "Woah," expressing his amazement of just how pleasurable this specific brand of intercourse was. And he hadn't even received the main dish yet. "M-More... I want... you, er... your..." he moaned, looking down as Arthur was coating his member in lube with his free hand.
"Heh... you, uh, you sure about that? I'll have you know, even with sufficient amounts of lubrication, it can hurt."
"I don't care... I want your cock, Arthur."
And with that, how could the Englishman resist? He gave his length a few good last pumps before situating it at the starting point, and in one fluid motion, sliding it into the younger man. Alfred's moan escalating the deeper he got, until he was all the way in. He looked down to assure that the boy, now gasping for air, was okay, and then whispered in his ear, "I'm going to start moving now. If it hurts too much, please, let me know. You see, I'm not the type to hold back quite easily..." He said, fighting for air himself as he took in the feeling of Alfred's tight muscles wrapping around his manhood.
"Please... do that, K-Kirkland, sir..." Alfred said, pleadingly. Arthur almost died at what he had just been called. It was ever so sexy the way he said it, and it just urged him to pleasure the lad all the more.
"Right." He grunted out, as he cautiously began driving his cock in and out of his now moaning - like a madman - partner.
Alfred's grip on Arthur's shoulders tightened, and he bit down on his lip as he felt Arthur begin to thrust in and out of him. But slowly, he opened his eyes, and his grip lessened as the Englishman sped up his thrusts, and hit him deeper. He watched as Alfred's expression grew from pain to pure pleasure. His grunts turning into uncontrollable screams of the sort, resonating with the Arthur's own deep, throaty groans.
"A-Arthur! You, you're amazing!" He bellowed out, catching his breath after every word and every push in him, "H-Harder! Please... more!" And so, Arthur threw away any sense or desire to go easy on the boy, and began aggressively thrusting into the American, again, giving the kid just what he wanted, and again, he moaned in satisfaction. Arthur could only contribute to the noise.
With their two hot, sweaty bodies rubbing against each other as Arthur slammed that sweet spot in Alfred with all of his god-given force, it wasn't long until both of them felt they were going to have to cut the endeavor short. The friction was too much for any man to take.
"Al... are you quite near your... finish? B-because I am." He whispered under his shrieks. His hot, humid breath hitting Alfred's exposed neck.
"Ahh... yes. M-May I?"
"Of course."
Alfred arched his back, pressing his body even tighter against Arthur as he threw his head over and came with a shout of the name of his opposite. It wasn't even a half-second before Arthur found himself doing the same, squirting his seed deep into Alfred, earning the man his last, beautiful moan from the boy's lips.
He collapsed onto Alfred, muttering something along the lines of, "You make an amazing pillow," and then falling into another deep sleep. But not before Alfred was snoring.
They awoke, piled on top of each other like two bricks, and their eyes met again for the first time since they made love. Again, paragraphs of exchange in a simple glare had occurred between the two.
As the memories hit both of them, so did feelings. Feelings they didn't expect, but were too physical to just deny the existence of. They both deduced that the other felt the same, and Alfred was the first to act on the mutual thought. He leaned over and gently kissed Arthur on the forehead, whispering a sweet, "Good morning, hunny," in his ear.
Arthur's eyes widened as it all hit him around the same time as Alfred's lips. "W-Wait... we had a bloody shag last night, didn't we?" He barked.
Alfred stared at him and nodded as if the man were crazy. "Yeah... and?"
"Well... uh..." Arthur struggled to find his words, or even a point for that matter. He was shocked, but not particularly mad. "It was... er..." he drawled. Finally he cleared his throat, and remarked in a very formal manner, "It was fucking awesome and I look forward to it again." He spoke as if it were to the queen, yet the words themselves something he couldn't even say in front of his own mother.
"Alrighty then!" Alfred smiled. "Oh! And did you check your facebook recently? Everyone added you!"
"Er, no..." Arthur moved his eyes off the lad and over to his phone, sitting lonely as ever on his nightstand. He quickly reached for it, "I guess I have a lot of requests to accept," he sighed, "I'll do it now... happy?"
Alfred nodded. "Oh, and we added some pictures from the part-"
"OH MY GOD!" Arthur shrieked down at his device, "I hope your friends know my mother is on my facebook! I-I can't believe they'd post these!"
"What?"
"Pictures from my first night here of me buck naked, only they pasted a smiley face over my cock..."
Alfred chuckled. "That's Gilbert for you!"
Arthur slapped his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed in devastation, "Oh deary me... what's Mum going to think?" He looked back down at his device, to see the rest of the photo album consisting pictures of the awkward, yet unfortunately passionate kiss he and Alfred had shared. He rubbed his temples at the horrific sentence to follow.
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Margie Kirkland: lol nice one, Arty-poo. Glad to see you're making new friends!
"Oh dear lord... she... uh..." Arthur cringed at the simple thought that his mother saw those pictures, and not only did she see them, she was perfectly fine with them. He'd never understood his mother. Why she married that rich bastard, why she didn't leave him after everything he did, or why she always wore a smile, no matter what. She was the best mother he could ever ask for, and to have her see that her 33 year old son was partying naked with some kids in uni, and snogging what looked like an "Abercrombie model," as she later commented - well, he just couldn't fathom why she was so glad. He knew he wouldn't be. It was nothing to be proud of.
"You okay, Arty? I mean, I can tell them to take the photos down..." Alfred asked, seeming like he felt somewhat responsible for what his friends had done.
"No, no..." Arthur rejoined, "it's too late, anyway..." He mumbled. "What's done is done."
Alfred shrugged. "If you say so..." He paused, then finally started chuckling, Arthur's eyes darted to him suspiciously, "Then I take it you've given me the okay to have them upload the uncensored ones!"
His suspicions were confirmed, and he glared at Alfred.
"Then that's a yes?"
Silence. Nothing but burning green eyes.
"Good. They'll be up in a minute or so... actually, it might take a while, though... they're pretty hi-res! You can see all the detail. Props to Gilbert's phone camera."
Arthur silently glared. After what felt like hours of silence, he finally decided to ask what was on his mind... "Just, how hi-res are we talking here?" He asked, as if he were interrogating a criminal
"Oh... I'd say about 17 mega-pixels." Alfred said, playing along with the criminal role. He raised one eyebrow, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk, he glared right back at Arthur, trying to push a reaction out of a man.
"Fine..." He bluffed, rolling his eyes as if it didn't phase him that his naked in church nightmare wasn't too far from becoming true. "But you're in them too, and I hope you know, it was quite obvious just how hard you were when we kissed," he retorted, smirking in an even more sadistic fashion than the one staring at him.
"Hm, then we're even, no?"
"One may say so."
"Good."
"Good."
And with that, the two of them quickly dressed, and resolved that they weren't making breakfast that morning, so the tent it was.
Thank you for reading! I'm sorry if this is a little short... but do remember to review/comment/or whatever... sorry, I'm very new to this...
Yes, this was inspired by ancient aliens, just a bit. And yes, things are happening pretty fast, but I wanted to establish something early on so their relationship can really develop when certain... things happen. MUAHAH.
Oh, and I will be updating on my tumblr firstly, so if you are interested, my tumblr name is therewillbebreakfast
I really hope you enjoyed ;-)