Even though it's a bit early, I won't be available come the fourth of July, so here. I give you this NOT angsty fourth of July story just to add some color to the dismal, depressing fanfiction that will no doubt flood the USUK fandom come the national holiday. So there, have some happy UKUS PWP and everyone have a safe Independence Day! :)
"England!"
England blatantly ignored the whiny plea for attention from across the room.
"England!"
Again, ignored. And England watched with a blank stare as America suddenly smirked, and then rose from his seat across the wide meeting table.
"Arthur!"
Still ignored. America walked around the table, his fingers gliding over the polished surface of the wood as he sauntered his way to England. The way he moved his hips with such a confident stride made a thin film of sweat begin to form along the nape of England's neck.
"Arthur."
Barely ignored. America was standing directly behind him now, his heavy hands weighing down on Arthur's shoulders. His fingers gripped to dig at the tense muscle beneath England's suit. They worked to undo all the stress that had been culminating beneath the surface for weeks now.
"Artie," England couldn't ignore the husky way America breathed his pet name against his ear. He sighed wearily, letting his head tilt back to rest against the American's chest. "You're really tense."
"Please, America, don't remind me," England huffed, letting his eyes slip close as he enjoyed the feeling of America's strong hands beginning to work at the wiry muscles on his neck. "I get enough of that at home."
One hand trailed up England's throat to affectionately poke at his cheek. It was accompanied by a sweet laugh that thrummed in America's chest, making England's skin tingle.
"Well, you're in my country now, so just relax, okay?" The blue-eyed blond encouraged, allowing his hands to return to working out the sore kinks in the older's neck. He tipped England's head forward again to work at the tender areas at the base of his skull and just behind his ears.
"I know it. My brief visits here seem to do wonders for me. It's always a pleasant surprise when they send me off to you."
"I wish they sent you more often. Or at least let me go to your place more. I think we're good for each other, huh?" America leaned down to nuzzle the crook of England's neck.
"You and those hands of yours are therapeutic, my love." England murmured, his hand coming up to affectionately paw at America's hair. America barely held back a giddy smile at the way England called him 'my love'. He had to force himself back into his far more seductive sway.
"Oh, is that right?" America whispered in his ear, voice heavy and hot breath ghosting over the soft, pliable skin. Oh, and England loved when the younger switched to that thick, drawling tone whenever he felt the need to tease the emerald-eyed man.
"Don't get any ideas, America."
"Alfred." The younger corrected.
"Very well," England shifted in his chair, twisting at the hip to meet his lover's gaze. "Don't get any ideas, Alfred." He practically purred the younger's name, his skin prickling with sparks of heat that were shooting through his nerves.
America shifted his hands, moving them down to England's shoulder blades to knead at the lithe muscles bunched around his spine. Fingers firm, yet gentle, America began to work at the knots there as well. England relented, fully turning in his seat to straddle the chair and lean his forehead against the blue-eyed man's chest.
"You know these hands can do so much more…" America cooed, working his way down England's back.
"Mmm, I know it. However, we're in the middle of a meeting room."
"We can go back to my place?" America grinned, feeling an excited flutter in his stomach at the prospect of taking England home to continue this on a much more personal scale.
"No. That would mean a long drive through traffic."
"But then I technically wouldn't be allowed to do this," America tipped England's head back and leaned his own body forward, enough so that he could reach down and un-tuck Arthur's dress shirt. They'd long since shed their suit coats from the feverish heat that permeated through the broad windows of the room. As America's fingertips ghosted over the small of England's back, the island country felt a throaty gasp escape him. He shuddered, thoroughly enjoying the feel of America rubbing small circles across his lower back.
From the awkward way they were positioned, England's nose was pressed against America's throat. He took the opportunity to nip at the vulnerable flesh to grab his lover's attention.
Grinning around America's jugular, England was amused by the low groan that reverberated in America's throat. He felt the hands retreat to settle on England's shoulders, and America moved back some.
"My love-"
"I love it when you call me that," America blurted out, grinning hugely. After a moment he had the decency to flush from embarrassment and squeeze England's shoulders, urging him to continue. "Sorry."
"It's quite alright. I'll allow it for today." England mused aloud, gazing up at America's bright, white smile. It was such a lovely grin: one that made England's heart soar every time one of those million-dollar smiles was flashed his way. America had such a way of flaunting his youthful glee when around England that it seemed to follow him around like a warm ball of sunshine. The emerald-eyed man took great pride in knowing America only smiled like this for him.
"Let's brave D.C. traffic. I have a bit of a surprise for you when we get home anyway."
"Oh, really?" America's bright, blue eyes went wide. "So you remembered what day it is?" He looked so strangely hopeful that England was a bit taken aback. What day was it? Tuesday? No, wasn't it Wednesday? Wednesday wasn't special, was it? Middle of the week was about the most prestigious thing England could think of.
"Err, yes? I do believe it's Wednesday."
America's grin faltered for a moment, but quickly returned as America took England by the wrists and helped him up.
"Yep! And I love Wednesdays!" He beamed.
"Right. Wonderful day of the week, isn't it?" England tried awkwardly, still not sure why America was so adamantly happy about something that occurred fifty-two times a year.
"Sure is! Now come on!" America urged, still grinning as he practically dragged England out to his SUV in the parking garage. He just barely had enough time to grab the shipping box he'd brought with him before America was hauling him out the door.
Getting home hours later through immense traffic jams had thoroughly destroyed the mood they'd set in the meeting room.
America groaned as he tossed his keys on the foyer table and held the door open for England. He tugged his tie off, loosened his shirt, took his belt off and then ungracefully flopped onto the nearest couch, face to the cushions.
England barely brought himself to actually sit down on the opposing chair properly. He would have preferred to flop down beside his lover, but Alfred was practically spread-eagle across the thick cushions.
"I hate traffic." America mumbled into the plush seat, voice distorted by the couch.
"Three accidents in a stretch of two miles, that was bloody ridiculous!" England agreed, loosening his tie as well.
"I know!" America shifted his hands underneath his torso to push himself up from the couch seats. "Alright, so I had to endure that torture, now I want my surprise!" America beamed.
Arthur cleared his throat, avoiding America's eyes.
"You're so impatient. It's barely two in the afternoon. Don't you want to wait?"
"Hell no! What's the time got to do with it anyway? Besides, I have to host a party later, remember?"
"Oh, no, I didn't know that. What for?"
America shrugged, knotting his hands together in his lap.
"No reason. I just felt like having a party is all."
"You're bloody strange, Alfred."
"It's why you love me!" America dropped a coy wink. "Now stop stalling! What's my surprise?"
"Oh fine! You're so impatient! Go into your bedroom and wait. I'll call you when I have it set up and ready for you."
"Holy shit, England! You have to set it up? What the hell did you get me?" America asked, eyes as wide as saucers.
"You'll have to wait and see, my love. And please, call me Arthur, after all, we're home alone, aren't we?" Arthur said rhetorically, nudging Alfred off the couch.
"Okay. Just hurry, alright? I hate waiting!" America said before dashing into his bedroom with a giddy smile on his face. He slammed the door shut, holding back a giggle and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Arthur shook his head, chuckling at Alfred's enthusiasm. The boy was so easy to rile up and excite, especially today of all days, but England loved that easily amused trait of his.
He got off the couch, went to America's SUV and dug under the back seats. He'd managed to slip the package he'd brought with him from England into the car when Alfred hadn't been looking. Now that the American was eagerly tucked away in his room, it was safe to bring out the little surprise he had for his lover. After going back into the house, he used Alfred's car keys to break the packing tape seal and set the box down on the couch.
With a nervous brush of his fingers through his hair, Arthur began to pull out the box's contents, laying them out one by one on the plush seats. Once it was empty, he pushed the parcel under the couch and began to prep for America's surprise.
Alfred thought he was going to explode from the combination of waiting and the ridiculous excitement coiled up like a loaded spring in his belly. He practically attacked the door when he heard Arthur's voice finally beckon him to the living room. Only briefly checking to make sure he hadn't broken the hinges, Alfred rushed out to the living room.
His giddy grin turned to one of confusion as he entered the broad room. It was entirely dark, and only the sunlight filtering in from the windows in the next room gave him any light to see by. It was just enough to avoid bumping into the furniture as he stumbled to the center of the room.
"Arthur?" America called out in a small voice, bewildered.
"Yes, Alfred?"
The blue-eyed man whirled around, eying a figure leaning against the frame leading into the hallway on the other side of the room.
"Artie?"
Arthur flicked the lights on from where he was leaning, grinning devilishly when Alfred got a good look at him.
"Oh my God… Artie, wow, I-"
"You like?" Arthur purred, running a hand down his thigh nonchalantly.
Alfred bobbed his head dumbly, already feeling the effects of Arthur's surprise, as the blood seemed to rush straight to his groin.
Arthur chuckled, unhitching himself from the frame and sauntering into the room so Alfred could get a perfect view of him under the white lights.
Feeling his breath hitch, Alfred could barely register any other rational thought besides wanting to tackle Arthur to the ground and ravish him. Instead, he fought back the urge and controlled himself, simply gawking at Arthur's get up. He tried to burn the image into his brain for a lifetime of enjoyment. It wasn't likely to ever happen again.
The older was clad in a red, leather collar, complete with star shaped studs all the way around. His torso was entirely naked, but a tiny waiter's apron was tied loosely on his hips, barely brushing his upper thighs. It was printed with American flags, and Alfred was willing to bet Arthur wasn't wearing anything underneath either. Arthur's wrists were decorated with cuffs, equally as star-spangled as the apron. Completing the outfit was a little top hat perched on Arthur's head. Stars and stripes decorated that as well.
"Judging by this-" Arthur stepped forward to unexpectedly palm the growing bulge in Alfred's pants. It earned a hiss of pleasure and surprise as he began to lightly knead at it. "I'd say you more than like it." Arthur purred, leaning up to peck Alfred's lips.
"Love it…" Alfred murmured once he'd regained some composure, trembling as he kept fighting the urge. Damn, it was hard though, and Arthur's hand worked tirelessly to coax him to a painfully constricted full hard-on.
The delicious decision of whether he wanted to enjoy the view and the hand job or strip Arthur down and fuck him into the carpet had his mind working on a fever high. Both were perfectly enjoyable options, but he wasn't entirely sure which Arthur was going to let him have. He moved his hands down jerkily, trying to work his pants open to at least get a little relief as he mulled his options over.
Arthur grinned, brushing Alfred's hand away. He leisurely undid the button and zipper, sliding Alfred's pants down a bit. It was absolute torture waiting for each tooth of the zipper to spread open.
"Excited?" He purred again, placing a kiss on his American paramour's Adam's apple.
Alfred nodded, really wanting to move but finding himself paralyzed when Arthur's hand found its way past his boxers and grasped skin. The taller groaned in pleasure, letting his eyes slip close in ecstasy as Arthur worked him dexterously.
"I suppose that answers my question," Arthur observed, grinning devilishly as he watched Alfred's expression. A particularly throaty moan was the only response he got as his fingers glided over the sensitive head.
"Ngh~ Artie, hey, uh,"
"Hmm? Care to be a bit more articulate?"
"Fuck no," He growled out, "I, ahh, I-"
"Having some problems?"
"I wouldn't, uh, god, call your hand, ahh Jesus Christ, fuck, Artie, I'm gonna cum before we get to, wow, the, err, good part if you don't, ngh, STOP!"
With an exasperated sigh, Arthur withdrew his hand, leaving Alfred shivering with desire, but at least able to get himself under control. His breathing came in shallow pants, and he felt entirely breathless from the rush.
"Well?" Arthur asked, leaning back on his heels and smiling innocently up at the taller blond.
Alfred gave him a dumb stare, as if it should have been obvious. And when Arthur just continued to smile up at him, Alfred rushed forward, tackling Arthur to the ground.
The emerald-eyed blond grunted as they tumbled to the floor. It was times like these that he was infinitely grateful that the majority of Alfred's house had carpet floors, as wood or tile would have been ridiculously painful with Alfred' massive strength. But as Alfred tried to settle on top of the shorter, Arthur rolled out from under him.
Alfred whined, partly from the disappointment of his lover moving out from under him, and partly because he was starting to grow soft without Arthur's hand.
He didn't have to wait long though. The older grinned dangerously before shoving Alfred's shoulders back, forcing the American to the ground. Surprisingly, he went without a fight, leaning back on his shoulders with wide eyes. It was only when Arthur slid on top of him did Alfred realize that he'd be the one getting fucked into the carpet.
Alfred likely would have fought back and tried to assert his dominance if Arthur's nimble fingers weren't suddenly wrapping around his cock again. So the blue-eyed blond simply tipped his head back, letting Arthur work him back up to speed.
"Love?" Arthur prodded, wondering if maybe it was just best to keep doing this, seeing as Alfred looked thoroughly content with his eyes fluttering closed and soft gasps of pleasure escaping him.
"Mmm, yeah?"
"You didn't really think I forgot what day it was, did you?"
"Huh? Oh, r-" He suddenly shivered, being cut off as Arthur worked his pants and boxers off his legs. The sharp, cold breeze from the air conditioner sent tingles up his bare legs.
"So, did y-" Once again, Arthur's actions cut him off. This time it was Arthur leaning over him, their bodies sliding over each other neatly as he reached for something on the couch.
"Artie-"
"Spit it out already!" Arthur teased as he found what he was looking for between the couch cushions and clutched it triumphantly to his chest.
"Oh god, please don't tell me that's-"
"Lube? Yes." The shorter turned the bottle over in his hand so Alfred could see the scent/flavor. "I found it very appropriate."
Alfred loosed a breathless laugh. The lube was supposed to be patriotically themed, and had some odd scent name having to do with freedom.
Popping the top open, Arthur spread a little on his fingers and licked a bit off.
"I want to say it's watermelon flavor."
"Guess that's what freedom would taste like," he dropped a wink before Arthur shook his head and spread more of the lube on his fingers. He offered them to Alfred.
"Taste."
Alfred gave the digits a curious look before experimentally licking one. His nose scrunched up as the odd, artificial flavor left a poor aftertaste in his mouth.
"Freedom doesn't taste very good, Artie."
"I didn't think it was that bad."
"Eh, I guess it's alright," Alfred licked Arthur's fingers again before take them into his mouth, sucking noisily. The Brit smiled, letting his lover clean the lube from his fingers as his tongue swirled between the digits. Alfred had a pleased, faraway look in his eyes as he worked, making Arthur curious as to just what the blue-eyed blond was thinking of.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Alfred glanced up at him, giving a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, or at least attempting one. It turned out rather goofy with Arthur's fingers still in his mouth, and the older couldn't help but laugh in good nature.
"That wasn't even remotely sexy!"
The taller released Arthur's fingers with a loud pop.
"Not even a little?"
"Not at all."
"Pfft, whatever. You wouldn't know sexy if it swept you off your feet and fucked you sideways."
"You've tried that already, love," Arthur grinned. "Remember our last night at the G8 meeting in Canada a few years ago?"
"Shit, you remember that? I thought you said you were too drunk to recall anything!"
"I remember you accidentally rolling off the bed in the middle of sex."
"Of course you remember that part!" Alfred grumbled, cheeks flushed scarlet from embarrassment.
Chuckling, Arthur patted his lover's cheek affectionately.
"I'm sorry, Alfred. I was just teasing you."
"Ah, don't apologize. I'm not really upset. Besides, you've done some embarrassing stuff before too."
"Oh really?" Arthur quirked a brow. "Like what?"
"Like locking yourself in those handcuffs last time I was at your place. Or trying to mount Mattie because you thought it was me."
Arthur squawked indignantly, face coloring with a furious blush.
"I still can't look at him the same way…" Arthur admitted with a nervous chuckle when Alfred burst out into hearty laughter.
"He's still kind of traumatized, actually. Apparently, you were really aggressive, trying to manhandle his junk and all."
"Well, you know how I get with a bit too much liquid courage in me."
"Yeah, you're an animal, dude!" Alfred continued to laugh mirthfully, his bright blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Oh, hush!" Arthur growled back, the blush now decorating his entire neck and face with a crimson tint. While Alfred laughed, entirely distracted, Arthur made sure his fingers were thoroughly coated with the freedom-flavored lube before lowering his hand. Now was as good a time as ever to actually get started.
"Hey! Wait a minute!" Alfred exclaimed as his lover moved his hand down to his entrance, lubed fingers brushing the ring of muscle.
"What now? Do you want to have sex or not?" Arthur rolled his eyes, but really didn't sound as annoyed as Alfred would have expected.
"Why do I have to be on the bottom? I mean, c'mon, it's my-" A sudden hiss. Arthur had taken the liberty of jamming a finger knuckle-deep into Alfred before the taller could continue.
"That's why," The Brit purred, using the intrusion to start coating Alfred with the freedom-flavored lube. An amused smirk split his face as Alfred tried to compose himself, but was failing miserably as Arthur stroked him.
"Fuck, ngh, you, you, gah, mother fucker!" Alfred snarled out, arching his back as Arthur slipped a second digit inside without warning. Arthur took the opportunity to use his free hand to tug Alfred's shirt open as well, pushing it off his shoulders. It gave him a lovely view of the contracting muscles across Alfred's well-defined torso.
"Not exactly wise words to say to the man who's willing to blow your mind." Arthur chided rather tamely as he forcefully thrust his fingers in and out, working Alfred's tight entrance. It had been way too long since Alfred had last taken it. Actually, with their busy schedules and living an ocean apart, it had been too long since they'd done anything remotely sexual. No brushes under the table, no quickies in the hotel rooms, not even a sloppy make-out session in weeks, maybe months. When he realized just how long it had been, and being this close to breaking that streak, Arthur felt himself shudder with arousal.
"Damn it, Artie, quit- nnnnngh~"
"Hmm?"
"Quit day dreamin'!" Alfred bellowed after a long howl of pleasure when Arthur crooked his fingers, finding Alfred's sweet spot, working at it with skilled hands. "C'mon! I want it, gah, in! I don't wanna, oh, fuck, I don't wanna ride your fingers all god damn day!"
"You swear too much," Arthur felt the need to point that out as he withdrew his fingers, forgoing prepping Alfred with at least three to sate the taller's demanding sexual appetite. He really couldn't blame him though. Just watching Alfred squirm beneath him had Arthur well on his way to a blissful release.
"Shut up and fuck me!" Alfred demanded with a rumbling laugh. His usually bright eyes were hazed with lust, the black pupils swallowing up his summer-sky irises.
"As you wish," And of course, who was Arthur to argue with that? He quickly undid the apron with his clean hand and tugged at his own cock a few times with more lube. Kneeling low, he dragged Alfred closer to him by the hips and lined himself up. "Ready, love?"
"I was ready forever ago!"
"Of course you were," Arthur grinned like a slick predator before suddenly thrusting forward. He buried himself in Alfred with that one, hard thrust, making Alfred's throat tear with a scream of mixed pain and excitement. But mostly pain.
"Oh, god. Fuck that hurt, Artie!" He whined, squirming uncomfortably with the strain on his tight walls. "Don't you dare move!" The blue-eyed blond warned with a low growl. Arthur felt Alfred's short fingernails dig into his arms as he clutched the older with a vice-like grip.
"You're going to leave marks," The Brit sounded annoyed, but Alfred couldn't bring himself to care or pity the emerald-eyed blond at the moment. Arthur could put up with his nails while he dealt with the acute feeling of nearly being split in two.
"Yeah, well, I'm not gonna be able to sit down for days!"
"Don't be such a baby! You're the one who wanted it."
"But it hurt!"
"It always hurts a little. Come now, Alfred, you know that." The Brit soothed gently, carefully leaning forward to card his fingers through the American's hair. He really hadn't meant to hurt him. The taller batted his hand away.
"That hurt a lot!"
"If I knew you were going to whine this much I would have given you to Francis!" Arthur chuckled wryly.
"Oh," Alfred growled. "You're so funny!"
The sarcasm practically dripped off his words like lethal venom, but Arthur couldn't help but laugh.
"You know I love you, Alfred, but sometimes you make it too easy."
"You're a jerk!" Alfred retorted, but there was a half-formed grin on his face. He liked when Arthur told him he loved him. More than liked: it was probably his favorite thing to hear. Even if the bastard was making fun of him, it still sounded sweet. "Just give me a minute. I feel like I'm about to split open because of you!"
Arthur rolled his eyes, allowing Alfred his demand. He sat back, using his sullied hands to hold Alfred's hips to help support him. While waiting for Alfred to adjust to the feeling of being stretched so much, Arthur's thumbs drew circles across the skin drawn taut over the younger's hip bones.
"You know you look absolutely perfect like this, don't you, love?" Arthur observed, eyelids at half-mast as he watched Alfred continue to shift, observing his changing expressions, and feeling the muscles clamping and relaxing around his cock. He teased a lube-slick finger over Alfred's nipples just to watch the way the younger reacted. He wasn't disappointed when Alfred shivered, sending vibrations through his whole body that spread to Arthur.
"You tryin' to sweet talk me after that brutal entrance?" Alfred teased a moment later, a strained grin on his lips. Damn, he'd almost forgotten just what it was like to take it from Arthur. The older nation didn't have a serious sexual reputation for nothing. He was big and incredibly satisfying when Alfred was properly stretched. Without it, it took him a while to really get comfortable with the feeling of being filled.
"I don't sweet talk, Alfred. You know that. I'm simply making an observation."
"Then thanks, I think?"
"Is it alright if I move?" Arthur queried, tilting his head to the side. When Alfred winked after a moment's pause, Arthur started.
It wasn't actual thrusts at first. Instead he rocked forward, pulling Alfred with him as he swayed back again. The American quickly caught on, rocking with Arthur, enjoying the changes in pressure and slow movements, as he grew accustomed to Arthur's cock inside him. He liked this. It was nice and easy. There was no rush or pressure to move any faster, and it made adjusting to Arthur much easier. His body seemed to welcome Arthur's much more willingly with the gentle motions.
Once they'd worked up a steady rhythm, and the winces from Alfred had ceased, Arthur began a much more brutal routine for them. Alfred could take it. Arthur had complete confidence that his lover was well past the painful stage of their session.
He slid out nearly all the way, then snapped his hips forward again with enough force to make Alfred cry out. With each advancing thrust, the cries of pain turned to thick, rumbling moans of pleasure. They rolled from Alfred's throat in a long, continuous chorus that urged Arthur along with swelling satisfaction that went straight to his groin.
As they moved and slid, Arthur leaned forward with a hard thrust, burying himself completely in Alfred as he kissed the big American's wet lips. Alfred sloppily returned the kiss around his moaning and incoherent swearing. One arm pulled the Brit down while his other hand tangled in Arthur's hair, lightly tugging at his scalp as they kissed with a fiery passion. The older's mouth couldn't stifle the loud moans that Alfred kept loosing though, and it only intensified the heat coiling in their bellies. Arthur sucked on the younger's tongue, humming in amusement before he pulled back for air.
"You sound like such a needy whore sometimes." The emerald-eyed man teased, nipping at Alfred's lower lip playfully. The sudden response of Alfred's fingernails digging into his scalp made Arthur hiss. Jerking back, he grabbed Alfred's wrists, pinning his arms above his head as he continued to thrust into him.
As Alfred opened his mouth to complain, Arthur cut him off with a lowly drawled warning.
"Careful, love. If you try that again, I might have to tie these up." He pressed on Alfred's wrists.
"Yeah right!" Alfred challenged, biting back a groan when Arthur snapped forward again, jabbing his prostate.
The Brit's eyes alighted on Alfred's belt only a few feet away. Alfred followed his line of sight, gulping nervously when he actually saw the belt. It had never looked so ominous before.
"You wouldn't."
"I would."
"No way! C'mon, Artie!" Alfred whined miserably, actually looking a bit nervous. Arthur had no choice but to resign after seeing the pitiful look the younger gave him.
"Alright, fine!" A weary sigh, and then another rough thrust. "Baby…" He grumbled, and then leaned forward for another kiss. "But play nice."
The blue-eyed American's response was lost in their kiss; his lips and tongue were too busy pressing against Arthur's to form coherent words. When he had to pull back for air, his meager response was almost lost in their panting as well.
Riding back on another of Arthur's hard thrusts, Alfred tried his best to look annoyed before he growled back:
"Shut up. I, gah, oh, just shut it, and keep kissing me!"
Arthur obeyed without question, tilting his head for the perfect angle. Their tongues wrestled once more, wet muscles sliding through their hot mouths. Alfred tangled his fingers in the other blond's thick locks, being much gentler than before. They moaned into each other's mouths as the pleasure began to haze everything.
Arthur continued to move them in a steady rhythm that they easily fell into, even through their brief interludes for playful banter. It was something they'd perfected over the years and years they'd been together. Their first time had been a mess, both ending up laughing uneasily when things just hadn't worked out. Now, well past that awkward phase, it was almost as if they instinctively knew how they other would move, and the sensual way their bodies reacted was just a matter of automatic action. There was no thought process behind any of it, just the pleasure and heat. Arthur loved how it felt, and if Alfred's pleased grin and moans were anything to go by, he felt the same way.
Each thrust blurred into the next until the raging fire in Alfred's belly became too much. Arthur's swollen cock was grazing his sensitive nerves every time, and on one particularly well-aimed thrust, he came.
The hoarse scream from his throat seemed to rouse Arthur from the haze, and he suddenly realized just how close he was to orgasm. Keeping a bruising grip on his paramour's hips, the Brit made good use of Alfred's twitching, spasm-racked muscles and thrust even harder. It only took Alfred moving perfectly in time with the Brit after he'd rode out the rest of his release to send Arthur over the edge.
The emerald-eyed man spilled himself inside his younger lover with a guttural howl of Alfred's name. The riding thrusts fell away sporadically until Arthur stilled himself, sweat pouring down his body. As they slowly came down from their blissful afterglow, their loud panting filled the room and they gazed at each other without really seeing.
Blinking off the fading haze, Arthur slid free of Alfred, and then move to lay himself down beside him. The Brit rested his head on Alfred's broad chest, curling up against his still heaving side.
"So, yes, Alfred. Of course I remembered. Happy birthday, my love."
Alfred grinned shakily, swinging his arm around to pull Arthur flush against him. The American lazily nuzzled Arthur's hair, drinking in the warm, earthy scent of his lover's shampoo.
"Thanks, babe. But next time-" Alfred used his impressive strength to roll over and pin Arthur beneath him. "I get to deliver the birthday sex. Got it?"
The Brit smirked.
"Fair enough." He readily agreed before letting Alfred gently kiss his swollen lips. Well, let Alfred think he was winning that one. He had a whole new year to convince Alfred otherwise.
"That was too easy," Alfred gave him a suspicious glare. Or at least as suspicious as glares could get when he was still recovering from amazing sex. "You've got something up your sleeve."
"I'm not wearing sleeves, dear." Arthur chuckled, holding up his hands to show off the patriotic cuffs.
"Right. Where the hell did you even get all of that?"
"You'd be surprised what you can find online."
"I have no doubt about that," Alfred slowly sat up, bracing on his elbows. "I thought the hat was really cute… wherever it went." The hat Arthur had been wearing had long since fallen off its original perch during their session. Arthur looked around, finally spotting it a ways behind him.
"Yes, I thought you might like it."
"I loved it: all of it. You spoil me, babe."
"A bad habit I've managed to keep ever since I first found you, huh?"
"I'm not complaining," Alfred tipped his head back and laughed: a deep, hearty rumble from within his chest.
"Love you, Artie." Alfred murmured gently after a moment of comfortable silence between them.
The Brit flushed with a bit of pride, and felt his heart flutter from the tender words. Quietly, Arthur put his hand to the blue-eyed man's chest, lightly pushing him back down to the floor. He lay down next to him, kissing the younger's cheek. Arthur liked lying beside Alfred. It was nice to simply curl against Alfred.
"I love you, as well, Alfred."
The American nodded with a yawn. He blinked away the watery feeling at the corners of his eyes.
"Get a nap in, love. You don't want your guests seeing you so exhausted, do you?"
"You've got a point there. Thanks again, Artie. Best birthday present ever."
"Of course, my l-"
The ringing of the doorbell suddenly interrupted Arthur. Both blonds immediately jerked their heads to stare at the door down the hallway. Alfred only briefly glanced sidelong at Arthur for a moment, but he could plainly see the confusion in his emerald eyes.
"Yo! America! It's Prussia! Open up! I wanna make your birthday party way awesome, so open the door!"
"Fuck!" Alfred exclaimed, scrambling for his discarded clothes.
"Why does he sound drunk?" Arthur mused aloud, drumming his fingers on the floor. While the initial shock of Alfred's guest's early arrival had scared him, he wasn't nearly in the wild panic his lover was. As Alfred fought with the buttons on his shirt, losing miserably, Arthur leisurely picked himself up off the floor and got his pants back on. He retrieved the rest of his clothes from under the couch as well and dressed. The collar, hat, apron and cuffs he removed, placing them back in the unmarked box he'd brought them it.
"I told everyone to bring their own booze with they didn't like the selection I had last time. Prussia was complaining Budweiser just wasn't good enough for him last year," Alfred explained while he worked the last few buttons of his crumpled dress shirt. "He probably drank through his cases of beer already."
"America! C'mon, open the door! You'd better have beer in there too! I don't know where mine went!"
"Yeah, he definitely drank it." Glancing back, Alfred winked at his British paramour. "Ready for my birthday party, babe?"
"As I'll ever be." Arthur resigned; nudging his sexy, star-spangled outfit under the couch while Alfred went to the door to greet a rather drunken Prussia, he couldn't help by smile.
"Happy birthday, Alfred." He whispered again, knowing it would be drowned out by Gilbert's loud yell of excitement as the front door finally opened.
:) *waves* Happy Fourth of July to everyone and hope you enjoyed the smut.