Sky High.
I spend too much time on the kink meme, moral of the story. De-anon for " I don't care if it's crammed sexing in a commercial flight's toilet, a private plane or in the awesome business section (sneaky handjobs under the blankets?), I just want to see some sexing in the air. No top/bottom preference. "
UKUS it is then. OTP so hard.
The craft was spacious with the seats staggered in two person rows for the length of the air carrier. Arthur had groaned, whined really, as he lowered himself into the window seat. He was tired and the whole United Kingdom might as well of been tired also for how heavy his eye lids felt. The meeting had been long, only dragged on by disagreements with one too many pots of coffee brewed to make up for time zones and jet lag. Everything would have been better if he didn't have to scamper across an ocean to make it to a meeting of his own the next morning, but then he wouldn't be on a plane now, would he?
There wasn't an overly amount of other passengers, a few businessmen in the last row and a wealthy couple that seemed completely handsy – probably a mistress, if England had any right to judge the relationships of others by the illumination of dyed, blond hair. It was nice, private feeling even if the flight attendants seemed to pass by too often.
Beside him, America was stuck staring at his laptop through blond lashes, apparently trying to drag out as much of his energy as possible before succumbing to the inevitable sleep. Trying to prevent himself from yawning loudly, Arthur somehow caught Alfred's attention away from the machine.
"Hey," the younger male murmured, tilting the screen the slightest as Arthur squinted against it in the darkness of the cabin. "Shouldn't you be sleeping already? It's almost 2 in the morning."
"I could say the same for you," the elder nation responded dryly, not shying as America's nose pressed to his, "but I was just going to say good night. Don't be on that thing for so bloody long, this meeting includes you too."
They kissed shortly, a simple 'good night' catching between the two of them as the curtains in the back shifted and the attendant moved through the aisle. Following her with his eyes, Alfred smiled slyly before leaning into Arthur's ear.
"Bathroom with me?" he whispered, tilting his laptop again in his lap to make a lewd upward motion.
The Englishman frowned, making the response clear by facial expression only. They had a meeting in hours and both needed sleep, not midnight sex. Not to mention on a plane when casual romantic sex occurred in a bed. Not in the air, especially when the last time that he the time to partake in the act was over three months ago.
Though by the way Alfred was carefully handling his laptop across his nether regions, he should of known better what he was tuned into so intently before. Damned young wankers. Being who they were, they didn't always get time together. He knew that. But not on a damned plane!
"No," he grunted, pushing the American (rightly) away by the face as he situated himself again against the wall of the plane, the back of his head resting against the ledge of the window. Alfred frowned, fidgeting. Raising a brow, the boy only stilled long enough for the attendant to pass again without prompting any questions or warnings from her.
"Why not?" his hissed under his breath, the light of the screen leaving shadows across his face.
He wasn't quite sure how to express his dislike for having sex in a small bathroom without sounding like a complete woman and receiving related back talk concerning that, so he settled with "Too damned obvious! What did you think the two up there were doing before when they went together!"
By the look that he was receiving, it dawned on Arthur that was where the stupid boy had gotten the idea in the first place. 'Dear lord, how juvenile.' He loosened his tie with a finger, swallowing visually. He knew how obvious it was by the way Alfred's eyes followed his neck, bright and wide behind his glasses. Glancing with the corners of his vision, he watched for movement in the other passengers. America caught this too and eagerly pushed his laptop under the seat as he groped for Arthur's hand.
Arthur promptly slapped him across the knuckles. One of the businessmen craned his head, peeking at them over the seats of the chairs and England flashed the disturbed man an apologetic look.
"No, just-" but he couldn't help ducking his head below the top of the chair and pressing in another kiss to America's jaw in apology. Maybe he might of spent the most of the day angry at him, ignoring hare-brained schemes and overly eager offerings of greasy lunch options, too.
Arthur rested back in his chair, closing his eyes as the attendant's heels pattered past again. Dear lord, what did she expect to happen at 2 in the god damn morning? Alfred's laptop was wheezing beside him as it went through the motions of shutting down and England could practically feel the levels of disappointment as America tried to settle in without an outlet.
He tilted his head and sighed softly through his nose as the business man from before started in with his snoring once more. The Brit had honestly never known what America had thought when he asked for a relationship - they were political figures, not humans left to create families and live in harmony, really, had he ever paid heed to his history lessons?
Maybe he himself was the damn fool for saying yes. Finding Alfred's hand by the solely illumination of the attendant's path lights, he squeezed hard as he shifted inwards, lifting the arm rest between them. The blue eyed male moved, shifting his shoulder into his fellow nation and was surprised when England's cold fingers danced on the small of his back, slipping under his stiff dress shirt.
"If we are going to do this," the blond whispered, finding that sweet spot on the world power's jaw again, "we are going to be a bit more risky than a bathroom."
The hot, open mouthed kiss that fell over him was enough for Arthur to gauge Alfred's response by. Well. He wrapped his fingers around the collar of America's shirt, pulling him down so they wouldn't be above the top of the seats.
'Shhhh,' he breathed as they parted, swallowing hard as he tried to remind that they were still on a plane in a very open compartment. The younger nation shrugged in apology, bouncing his fingers on his leg as England reached up for the overhead luggage to bring his briefcase down with the softest of sounds. He popped the latches slowly, only taking a moment of squinting and blind groping to find the small bottle of lotion he kept.
Because being a man was never an excuse for dry hands, thank you very much.
Dropping his case down onto the floor, they met mouths again as their hands found separate things to do - his own bunching and removing Alfred's shirt from his pants, and the other working on his own belt, not quite sure of the what, but aware of the who, the why, the when and the where. When cold, wet fingers began to trace down his ass, he was promptly aware.
"Shh," England warned again, drawing America closer as he moved himself in the seat to be as obscured as possible from view. There was no room to stretch out unless either wished to be bent in half on the floor, so he nudged his chin closer into the crook of the blond's neck as his fingers roamed, arm between the seat and the other male's back. Alfred's head bumped against his as he pushed in, pressing his nose into his face painfully and this time the Brit sushed for comfort instead of safety.
The position didn't feel good for him either, hardly comfortable, but in order to make the reach he had to. To the relief of his worry, it didn't take long for America to groan, lifting his hips as the other pried and explored. Arthur felt somehow comforted by this - at least it had been clearly a long time since he'd allowed anyone to take him, and, by the looks, that was still England himself that last time. Boy was too faithful.
He kissed him again, trying to be careful not to leave obvious welts while attempting to ease the awkwardness till he found that spot - damn, maybe they should have opted for the bathroom. America's teeth caught on his cheek as he attempted to meet face to face again and Arthur leaned the slightest so they could meet properly. They were being loud and wet with their sounds but he didn't care anymore. He felt Alfred swallow as his middle finger just finally brushed that spot, causing almost all of the tension to flood from the American on a dime. Quickly England readjusted as to not lose the spot or the pace, sliding down with his shoulder between seat and body.
Out of kissing range and only dealing with the pure pleasure of finger fucking, Alfred was at least coherent enough to whisper the alarm of "Oh, shit!" when the curtains moved again up the aisle.
Right, because he had enough time to remove his hand from his (male) partner's ass and seem as if they weren't just doing something incredibly raunchy on the expensive first Class seats. Arthur dropped his head down onto America's shoulder, setting his jaw tight as he tried to get his own breathing in check while willing his eyes loosely shut.
As the lady approached, he could feel as the 'awake' nation smiled at her, his hand patting the top of his sleeping co-worker's head affectionately. England wiggled his fingers in some sort of retaliation, his hand still exactly where it had been before. America stiffened beside him, but as soon as the curtain pulled closed again, his mouth was being ravaged again.
"You're quite far along already, boy," the Brit tried between hungry kisses, shifting his cramping arm. America squirmed before him, lifting his hips again to try and gain any friction on his front while hands held him slightly above the seat as to not squish England. God, anything pressing back on him would be amazing.
"B-Been a while, b-babe," he settled on, catching himself before blurting the words out as Arthur found his leverage again. While he had decided on not leaving noticeable marks for the morning, the red welts he was leaving currently felt cool, the wet splotches alone causing the American to shiver every time the other pulled away.
After a moment when England's hands finally, finally, found their way down the front of his pants, Alfred didn't have very much left in him for will power. Bucking against his soft palm, he nuzzled the closest part he could manage, Arthur's ear, and came with a strangled moan. Clever and expert, Britian's hands kept moving, riding him out fully until he was spent and mostly collapsed across his partner's chest. They meet gazes in the middle, the blond carefully withdrawing his hand while tenderly, respectively, tucking him back in at the front.
Rolling over the slightest in his lap, Alfred practically thrust his nose into Arthur's crotch, causing a startled yelp to fall above him. Instead of being rejected, sticky fingers curled into his hair as the older male slid higher in his chair. America moved again, smirking as he nuzzled the other through the fabric of his dress pants.
"Dear lord, that alone!" Arthur groaned, unable to stop himself as the optimistic blond realized exactly how hard he had managed to get with only a few presses of his nose.
They both froze for a moment, their loud, uneven breathing overpowering the sounds of snoring - he watched with flickering emerald eyes as no one moved. England sighed softly, curling his cum slicked hand a little tighter. They'd look like complete messes even if they didn't get caught in the act.
Alfred pressed hard again, breathing through the front of his pants, ultimately too satisfied with a cocky smirk once England came easily, only a few teasing touches before a new pair of trousers was warranted.
They remained like that for a moment, Arthur running his hands through his boy's hair as America tried to find a way to lay without sticking his feet in the aisle or bending in half with his soles firmly on the floor. Both of their breathing had evened out, falling alongside the other sleeping passengers. Alfred had mumbled something childish about him always 'being loud in the sack' but he'd cut him off with a sharp rap to the ear, only breaking his finger movements for a moment.
As the sun moved up hours later, Britain leaned down, watching America sleep through his own lazy emerald eyes. "Too good for me lad, always too good."