What better time to get over my embarrassment of writing smut than on FrUK day?

France awoke naked and on his back, hands tied to the bed. He craned his head and something fell off – his pirate hat.

"What…?" he asked in utter confusion. The sound of England's singing came, and he recognized the songs as sea shanties. He was about to call out to England when said nation peered around the door and grinned. France felt the blood settle in his groin as England threw the door open, dressed in his pirate outfit and holding a bottle of rum.

"Bon anniversaire mon chèr, Francis." Arthur purred, making France almost moan with longing. As he came closer, France felt his eyes absorb the image that was his husband. A white shirt hung unbuttoned and loosely shoved in tight brown breeches. His red jacket padded his shoulders and fitted him perfectly, making him more dominant and regal. He had polished black boots and matching gloves. Of course, the ridiculous hat sitting crooked on his head completed the image, and England had even added an eye patch just for effect.

"You spoke French." France murmured; he could count the times on one hand that had happened.

England put the rum on the bed and leant over his husband, locking lips and gently placing a gloved hand over his eyes. Francis pulled at his bonds, desperate to touch him, to gain at least a little control.

England moved the hand to brush France's hair out of his face and saw his blue eyes pleading for freedom.

"No" he giggled, tapping France on the nose.

"Oh, mon cher, please. You can see I am overcome, I beg of you! Arthur!"

France felt his voice rising in pitch as England straddled him and pulled a glove off before reaching back and stroking his erection. France couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so desperate and his member throbbed.

With a sharp yank, he tried to free his hands but succeeded in rubbing the skin of his wrists and causing blood. England's expression quickly changed back to normal as he saw what France was doing, and pulled the loose rope, unraveling the knots.

France immediately sprang up and pushed England back on the bed, plastering his face in kisses and nips, tugging at his jacket and sliding a hand down the breeches. England felt himself torn between breaking character and letting France have his way, and staying as he used to be, the dominant one, and stay in control. To both of their astonishments, England pulled Francis' hand out of his breeches and held them together over his head as he once again took control and pushed France onto his back. England pulled his jacket off, only briefly letting France go. He was happy now, knowing that England had ulterior motives.

"Let me help," France whined as England shrugged out of his shirt. He stopped, considering the request. He stuck his leg out and France pulled the boot off, setting it on the floor gently – after all these clothes are very old.

Repeating the process, he unbuttoned England's breeches and rolled them down, revealing England's own hard member. France felt the urge to wrap his lips around it and suck it, make England moan, despite not being a fan of giving blowjobs. England's role-play was affecting him, turning him into the begging receiver, and he was loving it.

"French stand no chance against the British," he growled in France's ear. What was normally a line of playful banter had become seductive and France found his hands gripping the sheets in his lust.

"Fuck it, Francis, you are just…" England pushed France back and kissed him on the mouth, ripping the hat and eye patch off and fumbling with his gloves as France's hands roamed on him, holding his waist and pulling them closer together.

Both completely naked, England struggled even more to stay in character and was longing to be topped. Fighting it, he was aware of France letting him be in control, and sensed that the man truly wanted to be overpowered for a change, so he accepted the challenge.

France felt his lips start to swell as the rough kissing continued; getting nips and sucks as their tongues danced and teased. England left his mouth and ran his fingers in France's hair, consequently trapping his head against the bed. England used his other hand to pump the man's member as he sucked his flesh and nibbled at his collarbone and ran his tongue along the pleasure spot on his side. France closed his eyes and thanked god for whoever had given England this idea.

Suddenly, he felt the mouth at his member and bucked automatically, ashamed of himself for feeling so close already. England licked his staff and wrapped his lips around the head, tongue exploring and running along the slit before he bobbed his head up and down and France squirmed and moaned from underneath him, his movement restricted. France felt England suck and with each suck he felt his self-control slipping, he needed to come, he needed to… France gritted his teeth and he let a little scream escape as his seed exploded in England's mouth. France immediately went hard again as he felt England lapping it up and that tongue stayed at his member for a while more before leaving. England took a swig of rum and grinned at France, he was definitely in control now. France's cheeks were flushed and he had a wobbly smile on his face as if he couldn't control it -which he probably couldn't-.

England wasn't finished yet. He took France again in his hand, cold from the bottle, and the feeling brought it to life once more. France was the country of love for a reason, he could go on for many times in succession.

England pulled some lube out of the jacket pocket, and pumped some onto his fingers before gently entering France. The man squirmed and England felt worried, he had to check it was alright.

"Francis, are you alright with this? I know you're normally top but I thought you'd like a change and if…" France cut him off with a "shut up and do it, or I'll die! You are top more often, from today!"

England smiled and released the death grip he'd had on France's hair, cracking his knuckles. This resulted in a worried look from France until he realised why.

"Calm down, just relax. If you don't fight, I will be merciful." England felt his own erection throb for Francis, but he knew the pain that an inexperienced top can cause. He gently pushed a finger into France and rubbed it slowly around until he relaxed and inserted another. France was quick to adjust and soon enough the third was added. England pecked France on the cheek before coating his member with lube and gently sliding into his husband. France moaned and smiled, Arthur had taken a long time to let him adjust so he felt little pain.

"R-ready."

"Sure?"

"Very. Move."

England pressed his hands against France's hips as he slowly pulled in and out, gradually increasing speed until France was moving his hips to help him. England suddenly thrust in with such power that France cried out in pleasure, England had hit his prostate, and he melted in bliss as it got hit again and again. France was close to coming but refused to come again before England had even orgasmed once. England moved a hand to France's member and pumped it in time with his thrusts, increasing the pressure to keep him from coming. France whimpered and dug a hand into England's arm, the other clutching the sheets.

With a final thrust, England simultaneously released the grip on France, hit his prostrate and spilt his seed, causing France to come messily all over them.

"Bloody Frog." Arthur panted, pulling out and kissing France.

"That was a nice wake up call." France smiled, and England frowned at him.

"Nice? You wouldn't believe how much of your rubbish I had to move in order to find that outfit! The feather was lying under a book, and you know this outfit is one of my prized possessions. And I could have just left you tied up here you know."

"I'm sorry mon chèr, and I loooooved it. You can definitely do it again. Now it is time for my treat for you. Happy anniversary mon chèr Arthur."

"Happy anniversary, Francis."

"Not right now, it is shower time. If this is anything to show, you really did enjoy it."

England pulled out of France's sticky grasp and got to his feet, heading for the bathroom. France just lay there, and turning his head, to his horror, saw a white stain on Arthur's pirate hat…