Please no flames! I'm out of practice, haven't written smut for months! :D

Alfred F. Jones, self-proclaimed hero and all-around American boy, sails through the front door of his house with an "I'M HOME" and a crashing jingle from his backpack as he drops it to the floor. Pushing his dirty blonde hair back from his face, Alfred pads further down the hallway, stopping off at the kitchen to grab a big bag of Cheetos and to see if his parents are anywhere to be found.

"Dad?" he yells, turning in a complete circle to really let the sound waves melting off of his vocal cords resonate throughout the two-story Tudor style home. "Mattie? Papa?"

None of his family appears to be home. A cursory glance over the cluttered refrigerator reveals a note written in fancy calligraphy, explaining where the three members of Alfred's family have disappeared to.

Of course, thinks Alfred to himself, smearing neon orange dust over his French father's signature, written in expensive purple ink. Mattie's hockey game.

Now that winter has arrived and none of Alfred's favorite sports are being played, his two parents are focusing an inordinate amount of attention upon their much quieter son's passion and talents, to make up for the spring being filled with Alfred's baseball, the fall being filled with Alfred's football, and the summer being filled with Alfred's sport-themed camps.

Shrugging, Alfred slips off his awesome, custom made American flag Vans and pounds upstairs to the room he shares with his brother. As usual, Matthew's half is immaculate, right down to his socks being folded neatly away, while Alfred has to move piles of papers, electronic chargers, and clothes off of his bed before he can even sit down.

But all is not perfect in his twin's clean little world. Alfred notices that not only Matthew has forgotten to turn off his laptop, but has left a document open on it as well.

Le gasp! thinks Alfred sarcastically and leans over to turn it off, before catching sight of a few words glaring at him from the page. He pauses in confusion, and begins to read.

My hand, viscous from sweat and precum, trails downwards, fingers finding the puckered hole there and tracing patterns along the skin before pressing gently in.

He cries out at the altogether alien feeling of my intruding digit, and I begin to withdraw, only to be stopped by his hands frantically holding my own. His smoldering eyes beg me to touch him, to continue probing my finger against his velvety slick walls.

I comply, my other hand finding its way to his member almost involuntarily, stroking him softly, languidly, drinking in the moans and whimpers that grow louder with each pump, with each flicking finger I send over the head and along the slit.

Focused on my task of dragging him roughly to completion, I almost don't notice that he's breathing my name pleadingly, asking me for something more.

I look up for a moment, and pause, mesmerized by the sight of him above me. His eyes, darkened with lust and need, flutter open and closed erratically, erotically, as though he's trying so hard to hold his pleasure back, to wait for me. His cheeks are flustered and rosy, and covered with a light sheen of sweat that oozes down from his silky locks of hair. His lips, plumped and swollen and bruised, hang slightly open in an attempt to drag in air, of which he apparently needs more, if his pants and heaving chest are anything to go by.

I lean down to one sweat slicked ear and lick around the shell sensuously, slowly, watching him shiver as I taste my saliva mingle with his flesh.

"Do you want it?" I murmur huskily, knowing the answer but wanted to hear his yelp of approval as I brush my fingers along the swollen bundle of nerves buried deep, deep inside of him.

Sure enough, he moans in the affirmative, both hands coming up to entangle themselves in my hair, tugging at the sensitive strands. I growl ferally in response, leaning away to swiftly coat myself in lubricant before moving back in front of his splayed, prone form, aligning myself with his dusky rose entrance…

Alfred gasps aloud as he comes to the bottom of the page, before going back up and reading the entire thing over. The beginning pages are a smutty as the one Alfred first read, and he can feel himself becoming hard even as he's sitting there.

Flushing furiously, Alfred dips a hand into his pants. He pulls out his cock, already hard and a violent shade of red. It throbs in his hands, and a drip of precum leaks out of the tip, only to be hastily caught by Alfred's hands. Gently, Alfred traces the vein pulsing up the side of his penis, before slowly and thoroughly pumping, his large footballer's hands engulfing his generous member. He moans out, before biting his own lip to keep from making too much noise.

The pleasure and pressure builds more and more in Alfred's stomach, a peculiar shivery sensation. Finally, he can't hold on any longer and comes, hoarsely shouting his pleasure.

"M-mattie!"

Said adoptive brother stands outside the door to their room, frozen in surprise. Shrugging, Matthew creeps down the stairs, thinking that he should leave his fanfiction open on his computer more often.