CAUGHT IN THE ACT OF PIRACY

Anything, but historically correct. I tried to get the character's personalities as accurate as I could, but hey, everyone makes mistakes hehe

of course England isn't in character at all because he's acting all... sexy or so i tried to make him seem

And I know it's pretty bad but I kept writing and writing and this is what I came up with. I'll continue to edit and post as I do.

This IS my first fanfiction story after all.

I can take the brutal criticisms. It just makes me stronger!

"Yo Iggy! Bro! Where are you dude?"

America had made his regular visit to England's home. It was late in the afternoon, right around the time America and England would have tea together. Even if they fought and yelled, they both knew they loved their time together. America kept coming back every other day. And England continued to invite him in.

So when America had arrived and the door was unlocked and slighty ajar, the young man couldn't help but enter unwelcomed. And now, being as impatient as he is, the American decided he would search around the house looking for the other man.

All through the house he searched, and his voice died down as he grew irritated.

Where could that stupid Brit have gone? He thought to himself. I mean, I know this isn't the day we usuallly have tea, but he's here all the time just fapping around.

After inspecting the drawing room, dining room, kitchen, living room, main hall way, and every closet on the first floor, Alfred decided that he would do what he was always forbiden to do before: he was going to go up stairs.

The only reason America was even mildly excited about venturing into spaces unknown, was because of how England has always threatened him. The Brit wasn't a scary guy to America, cute if anything else, but when he talked of his second floor, demons showed in his eyes. England could frighten even the young, strong America when he was truly being threatening. In reality, America would never edmit to that, but he would also never have disobeyed England's wishes unless he "wanted to have his member sawed off with a serrated butter knife".

The Amercian made his way up the creeky stairs very carefully then tip-toed his way passed each door. They were mostly just lavish guest rooms. He found one full bathroom then an exercise room. America made a mentle note to add that to his own home. His well defied abdomin seemed a little less defined lately. He examined the hall and the picture frames on the walls extensively and widened his grin. Most of the pictures were him in his younger days. He was looking at a portrait of queen Elizabeth, when he heard the clatter.

It came from down the hall, then the muffled curse. As quietly as he could, Alfred tip toed his way toward the sounds. When he got close enough, he head a voice and saw the body from around the corner.

He gasped, unable to handle what he was gawking at. It was Arthur, but not every day Arthur. This was an Arthur who wore a large, arrogant smirk as he gazed back at himself through the mirror. This man wore old fashoned red tailcoat with golden shoulder décor. In the mirror, Alfred could see the large ruffles of his shirt and the many pieces of jewlery this man wore, all looking rather lavish to all be wore at once, but it gave the man the heir of seeming stolen. It could have been for all Alfred knew.

Arthur's trousers were tight fit against his slim legs, and through the glass, Alfred started to blush when he saw how truly tight they really were. His boots were healed and leather, folding over with buckles up the side. They cluncked when he shuffled his feet, which made Alfred all the more interested, for reasons he couldn't fathum.

England's unusually low, accented voice whipsered back at his own reflextion. "I've got you now, Antonio. You can't hide any longer." He dipped his large, tricornered hat, letting the huge feather like thing dip as well. The man let out a deep chuckle.

America didn't care if he was talking about another man. All he could do at that moment was let out a small whimper of defeat.

Right as the sound escaped his lips, Arthur drew his sword in one smooth movement and pointed it straight at Alfred's heart. They both stood looking at eachother rather surprised, but then England let that slow smirk spread across his lips as he sauntered out into the hall to join his fellow country. America stood frozen in place, not feeling as awesome as he usually did.

He's really playing this up, America thought. Its like he thinks he's a pirate again.

England began circling the other country and speaking softly into his ear. "Usually, young lad, I would be furious that you evaded my direct order not to venture into the second floor of my house, but as it seems..." America swallowed hard, and stood completely frozen in place as England stood behind him, whispering so gently. "You just look too compromised already. Why frighten you any more than you already are?"

Alfred let out the first peep since the moment he moaned, "I... I'm not scared of you, Iggy."

Arthur's chuckle rang through the hall once again as he stepped around to face the young man. "You aren't afraid... What then? Arroused?" The pirate raised a hand to caress Alfred's chin, and the other nation shivered involutarily. "Ah! That's it. You've been conquered by lust, have you boy?" The man smirked, and then leaned in even more to whisper.

"I know what you want, but I also know you won't admit it."

England's words almost threw him overboard, but he would never have admited that to his former authority figure. America stood strong under presure. The Brit wasn't buying any of it. He could see right through America's put together act and straight to the quivers of desire that ran through him.

England decided to play nice. He mused with that arrogant smirk, "I suppose I'll give you what you long for... I just hope you thank me for my generocity later."

Before America could eve comprehend what was unfolding before him, England leaned his head in ever so slowly and pressed soft lips against soft lips in a sweet sensual kiss. It was a dominate one; something that America wasn't used to when it came to Britain, but he couldn't lie about his enjoyment.

When England pulled back, he stayed just as close as he had before, just waiting for the reaction

Moments past, long agonizing and silent moments. Moments in which America should have said something clever to win control back, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a high fangirl squeel.

Then everything went black.