Shades Of Red
Pairing: Alfred F. Jones/Arthur Kirkland (America/England)
Summary: He craved it. The feeling of those hands roaming over his form, pressing on his throat, clenching and releasing. It was his morphine, his heroin, his opiate. (Human names used)
Word Count: 2,138
Warning: Smut
A/N: I've never written smut before. I hope it's okay. This is a gift for my friend (and sempai). She said, and I quote: "I need some good ol', sexy, hot UsUk smut." Since I owed her one, this is what I'm repaying her with. Because I've never written one, this smut is going to be really short (2000+ words) so I still pray it doesn't disappoint.
Fingertips fluttered down his back, moving softly over the knobby bumps created from his spine, a second hand came to rest on his face, brushing against his chin, caressing his jawline.
He felt peace.
Arthur groaned, babbling curses and unintelligible sounds of approval. It had been so long, too long for him to be able to enjoy the touches once more. He rocked, sharp hips pushing into his lover's groin, back arching into the hands that were torturous in their constant teasing.
This wasn't peace. This was pure ignorance.
Arthur wanted it so bad, he was ready to forgive and forget everything, for a simple moment of this.
'If I can't have peace, then I want ignorance.'
Sweet, cherished ignorance.
The hands moved again, this time running down his hips, pushing Arthur further onto their lap. The long fingers moved up and down, gripping his bare torso, fiddling with the zipper on his black slacks.
"Tell me," the voice that came made Arthur squeeze his eyes shut at the low timbre. "why would you come back?"
Oh, he had no idea. No goddamn idea why he would push himself away, shut out this literal heaven, and then let it pour out in waves of torment
"I..." He huffed, desperately wanting to help those sinful hands along, "I don't know."
A grunt. Accepting and cold, "I suppose I can't expect more from you," Arthur ignored the implication that he was stupid, instead prying open a darkened eye, hoping to find something other than lust in the cerulean pits that bore holes into his body. The hands, tanned and toned, reached up with their lithe appendages, burning their fingerprints into red skin, claiming it all.
To Arthur, it was no one else's to have.
"So naive, Arthur. It's okay, you don't need to say anything. I can tell. I'll help you."
Do you really want this?
It was unsaid, unsaid but there. The words gave Arthur a rise, as he bucked his slim hips against his partners groin, the heat from their bodies creating a monsoon of emotion.
Arthur was passion. Drunk, unrequited, wild passion. Thin arms wrapped around a muscular neck, begging for more, something to calm him down.
'Yes.' His mind hissed, terrible and needy, as Arthur unbuttoned the other's shirt, "Please. Please I need it."
Those cursed hands finally pulled off Arthur's pants, leaving him to shiver in his boxers, before returning and engulfing his body in the eternal heat that he was exposed to.
This was his hell, he decided, a fire hot enough to sear the flesh from his back, but one that never did, always applying the lick of white-hot flames to the areas that Arthur didn't know he had.
Shame coursed through Arthur, turning the pale skin that was not yet ignited into the deepest red he'd ever been, deep enough to rival the darkest of roses.
"It's alright." The slow drawl crawled out, covering Arthur in it's seemingly care-free embrace. "I know you need it. It's your drug, isn't it?"
God yes. He craved it. The feeling of those hands roaming over his form, pressing on his throat, clenching and releasing. It was his morphine, his heroin, his opiate.
Suddenly, Arthur was on his back, jade eyes wide and clouded with hunger. A bigger figure loomed over him, shirt unbuttoned, barely hanging on.
Arthur let out a moan, hands intertwined in the head of honey-blond hair as a mouth clamped onto his neck, biting down harshly, sliding down his chest, leaving throbbing bite marks all over.
"Alfred..." That name rolled off his tongue, freckled legs wrapping tightly around the other's waist, head sinking into the soft mattress.
The mouth came faster now, attacking Arthur again and again, and the smaller blond was glad to let Alfred bombard him with welts that would most definitely sting the next day.
He pushed the shirt off, turning his head to give the blue-eyed man more access, dropping the piece of clothing off the side of the bed, shuddering as Alfred grabbed his wrists, keeping him from moving any more.
The husky echo that growled in Arthur's ears made him want to come right then and there, "You had me," Alfred nipped at Arthur's ear lobe, making the shorter man squirm, "and all you did was let me go."
This was America talking now. The little boy he'd cared for and raised, taxed and fought against.
This wasn't Alfred.
The sandy blond pulled at the hands that held him down, legs still wrapped securely around Alfred's waist. "I'm sorry," he gasped out, craning his neck forward to press gentle kisses onto Alfred's face, "I was so blind." He couldn't do much, seeing as he was trapped underneath the broader male, but he tried.
"I didn't mean it."
Kiss.
"I'm so sorry."
Kiss.
"Forgive me."
Then Alfred stopped him, shoving his lips onto Arthur's, his hold on the Englishman loosening enough for Arthur to slide his arms from the weakened grasp and run his small palms all over Alfred's abdomen.
He arched his back, deepening the kiss, tugging Alfred's jeans off slowly, all other clothing except their boxers discarded. A tongue kicked at his lips, hands pulling softly at his hair, making him groan in anticipation.
He was consumed.
Totally submerged in the flames that was Alfred, fire and water drawing him in and drowning out all of the buzzing in his head, suffocating him in the dizzy pleasure.
"I do." Alfred's blue jeans were off, navy blue boxers sporting a large bulge.
It made Arthur gulp, Adam's apple bobbing, his covered cock was throbbing, wet and ready.
The azure eyed man stared at him with those darkened irises, looking up as he untangled Arthur's legs from around him and planted wet kisses all the way down to the line of his underwear.
Alfred's big hands pushed in between pale thighs, admiring the soft yet sharp curves and the constellations of dots that the creamy skin adorned.
"Holy Jesus you're beautiful."
No one had ever said that.
To them he was gruff.
Egotistical.
Demanding.
Rude.
Fanatical.
"So pretty, and all mine."
Yes. Sweet Virgin Mary, yes. Arthur was his. Only his.
The forest eyes met his ocean blue ones, both pair covered in the mist of unaltered want. Alfred's boxers were gone, Arthur realized, and his cock looked so damn big.
He groaned, laying his head back down to sink into his pillow, eyes now shut tightly.
Alfred hooked his teeth onto the elastic waistband of Arthur's boxers, grating them across the tensed muscles, teasing him to a slow death.
Not Francis'.
Not Ivan's.
Not Kiku's.
His.
A lewd moan came from Arthur's mouth as Alfred scraped his teeth on his pulsing member, tongue flicking out to lick at the hard length.
"Oh God. Alfred!"
Emerald green eyes rolled to the back of Arthur's head as Alfred took him into his mouth, short gasps and breathless moans filling the closed room. The cavern of the American's mouth was so warm, and the large hands that kept him from bucking deeper into Alfred's face were practically bruising his thighs.
A skilled tongue ran up the underside of Arthur's cock, teeth edging their way up the top, Alfred hummed, watching as Arthur sobbed at the added friction. He released the man's legs, sliding his tongue further down as the sandy blond male pushed at his head.
He was so damn close.
Alfred couldn't allow that, he lifted his face, kissing the tip of Arthur's weeping cock softly, hearing the Englishman groan in frustration, "Shhh," he hushed Arthur, "patience is a virtue, Iggy."
Said man almost snorted, virtue was not something they should be talking about right this second. But he didn't, too distracted by the rough sound of his nickname and the twisting in his gut as Alfred lifted his right leg, hooking it over his tanned shoulder.
Goddamn Alfred looked so hot from that angle.
Arthur reached up, pulling Alfred down for another passionate kiss, silently begging him to not be too rough, thinking that his body would fall apart.
"Please, Alfred."
The sapphire eyed blond lined himself up, using his pre-cum as lube, almost groaning at the sight of the tight ring of muscles he would soon be buried in. He eased in, sighing in actual relief as his pulsating cock was surrounded by Arthur's heat.
"Oh, fuck! Arthur you're so goddamn tight!"
His groan was met with the broken moans and sobs that Arthur made, tears dusting his pale eyelashes, he was pushing his hips back, trying to release some of the friction that was building up. Alfred moved lazily, fucking Arthur with slow bucks, left hand holding the smaller man's leg down, the other keeping the second freckled leg from falling off his shoulder. His eyes were half-open, once the color of cerulean, now as dark as an angry ocean.
Arthur writhed under him, spotted pale hide contrasting against Alfred's clear tanned skin. He cried, meeting Alfred's slow pace, pleading for him to go faster, yet loving how the American could hit his prostate, even at his leisurely speed.
He pulled himself up, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck, no doubt uncomfortable in the new position. He kissed him, tongue invading Alfred's mouth, tangling with his partner's and fighting for dominance. Their eyes were closed, both glad of the reprieve from the lusty and heated looks.
They were silent now, and anything they could've said was drowned out by stifled cries and content sighs. The pair let their bodies do the talking, Alfred pummeling into Arthur with a slightly more vigorous pace, and Arthur met it happily.
Alfred was so close, his stomach twisted, head tilting back in pleasure, he bit his lip, grabbing Arthur's cock with his free hand, pumping it slowly.
"I'm..." Arthur said, voice gruff and pained. Alfred nodded, huffing as he moved his hand up and down faster, "Me too."
The Englishman gasped, eyes seeing stars and toes curling as an orgasm rocketed through him, bucking onto Alfred's length while he rode it out, hips bouncing.
Alfred followed, the slurred sighs and pants that Arthur made enough to send him flying over the edge. His cum leaked from Arthur's hole as he pulled away, sweaty and exhausted.
They laid back on the bed, sheets rumpled and clothes strewn around the room carelessly.
Arthur curled up next to Alfred, head resting on the larger man's chest, eyes drooped tiredly. "Hmm," he hummed, a small smile gracing his features, "that was so good." He shifted his head, burying his face in the crook of Alfred's neck.
The American sighed, arm slinking around Arthur, legs tangled with his lover's. He rested his head near the emerald eyed man, planting a soft kiss on Arthur's forehead.
"I forgive you Iggy."
He could never stay angry at his England.
Never.
A/N: Oh my sweet Lord. Kill me. Throw the stones and spears and old tomatos. I suck at smut, but I'm uber good at reading it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I hope sempai likes it. She's always sneaking up behind me and grabbing my phone, trying to read my fan-fictions I have stored on it. She actually read this GerIta smut I had written out and then she proceeded to beg me to write a gift-fic for her. But holy Jesus if I could draw this I would do so and just frame it. UsUk isn't my true OTP, but is in my shipping catalogue. I ship a lot of pairings with one person (like UsUk and FrUk, or GerIta and PruIta) so yeah, another reason to kill me.