Emancipation

By Blaklite

Back story: So the other day I was watching videos on the new video game Homefront, and it struck me how many times the word 'freedom' was used. So I started talking to Grizzly about it, and we agreed it was just an American thing. I came up with the thought of what if Americans used a different word instead of freedom? Emancipation cropped up because of this, and while I was laughing at the thought of Americans screaming at the British "Emancipation!", Grizzly was legitimately confused because she thought emancipation meant to take one's pants off. This made me laugh more, and, because I'm an ass, I started making fun of the use of emancipation as taking your pants off, and made a sexual reference to complete the joke. Grizzly then practically challenged me by saying how it would be cool to read smut that involved the word emancipation being used in this way. And then this fanfic happened.

Note: India is a chick, and Jack is Australia.

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It was January 1st, 2013, and somewhere deep in the jungles of South America a jaguar was celebrating in her own way by munching on a tasty capybara.

Meanwhile, in the urban jungle of the northern half of the Americas, a party was raging. All of New York City was buzzing to the beat of the New Year. And why not? It gave people a reason to party and get so hammered they'd never remember the night for the life of them. It was Alfred F. Jones's favourite time of year.

Every New Year's Eve, the nations of the world gathered in New York to celebrate. This usually entailed, in order, catching up with everyone's personal lives, watching the ball drop, clubbing like there was no tomorrow, and never telling anyone which nation (or nations) you woke up beside the following morning.

Little known fact was it that nations partied like animals, mostly because people weren't really supposed to know of their existence. Which is why Alfred rented this club for them all on New Year's. This way if one of them survived a mortal wound he wouldn't have to explain to his boss how a new cult worshiping immortal albinos cropped up somewhere in Kansas.

But Alfred's mind didn't much care for all that responsibility crap at the moment. No, he was concentrating on the mess he'd gotten himself into. Right before his eyes on the counter of the bar lay what he knew would be his ultimate demise.

It all started when his tipsy ass decided to ask the half-drunk Russian how to pronounce the name of the vodka brand he had been carrying around with him. Judging by how well Alfred managed to pronounce the Russian word, Ivan figured the American was nowhere near drunk enough, and challenged him to a contest.

And that's how Al found himself sitting beside the big Russian at the bar with five shots of vodka lined up in front of them both. Glancing over at Ivan, Alfred knew he was absolutely, totally fuckin' screwed when that fat ass commie looked at him and gave him one of his creepy child-like smiles.

Come on, Alfred. You can do this. He's just using psychological warfare. Besides, he's already half-smashed. Then again, he's been nursing that bottle all night…No, gotta think positive. There's no way I can lose. I'm America, damn it! I never give up!

"Bring it on, bitch!" he shouted, just before Japan yelled, "Iku!" Alfred's mind was immediately plunged into auto-pilot.

The first shot burned like all Hell. The second shot was even worse, and Alfred forgot how to breathe for a nanosecond. After the third, it became a life or death struggle to keep going. But keep going he did, and identical empty vodka glasses landed open-end down on the counter at the same time. The small group that had gathered around them held their breath as Alfred lowered his head momentarily to keep himself from vomiting up all that booze.

Three excruciating seconds later, he raised his head to the sound of cheering. Ludwig clapped him on the back. A tie, it was a tie. Well, at least he hadn't lost. Standing up, he shook Ivan's hand, the two of them nodding once in acknowledgement of the draw. Then Alfred strode away somewhat unsteadily onto the dance floor, leaving behind an angry Vash who was forking over a twenty dollar American bill to a grinning Turkey.

Alfred felt like he was floating on Cloud 9 as he sauntered across the dance floor looking for a partner. Even with the music bombarding his ears, the multicoloured lights flashing before his eyes, and the booze pounding in his veins, he was able to make out a few other nations. Hungary and Taiwan were engaging in an intense make-out session on a nearby couch, France and India were double teaming a topless and piss drunk Arthur, Belgium and Denmark were grinding so hard they might as well just be having sex, and Korea was getting far too comfortable with that dance pole. At least Jack still hadn't started a fist fight yet.

Alfred had almost reached the opposite corner of where the Italy brothers had set up their DJ equipment when a pair of hands wrapped their way around his eyes. A warm body pressed against his from behind, and a voice whispered (though really it was said at normal volume due to the music) into his ear, "Want to dance, Alfred?"

Turning around, the American found himself with a load of Canadian in his arms. A load of provocatively dressed Canadian who was clearly trying to seduce him with those sensual movements of his hips. And oh, was it working.

The song changed, and the brothers adjusted to the new beat. Alfred wasn't sure who started it or when it even began, but soon they were groping more than dancing, and next he knew, a tongue was forcing its way past his lips. His mind warned him that maybe this wasn't the best idea, but the vodka quickly overrode all thought.

Swinging Matthew around, America pressed his brother against the wall, one hand massaging the underside of the other blonde's thigh as their tongues battled for dominance. Breaking apart for a moment for breath, Alfred had a brief moment of clear-headedness. Smirking deviously at the Canadian, he leaned in close and mustered the sexiest voice he could past all that booze.

"Wanna go somewhere more…private?"

The immediate albeit sloppy kiss was answer enough. Taking Matthew's hand, Alfred led them through the crowd and out the doors where he hailed a cab, and gave the driver directions to his apartment. As soon as he had shoved his intoxicated sibling into the backseat, Alfred slid in, and they were off. It took all of two seconds for Canada to be all over him.

"Mmmm, Matt…Matt, stop. We're in public."

Looking to the driver, Matthew simply shrugged and continued trying to get his hands under Al's shirt. "Like he cares, he's probably already dealt with this ten times tonight."

"Still…"

Pouting rather comically, Matthew returned to his seat on the other side of the car, and pretended to make a big deal of looking out the window. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. At least the cabbie had been spared a show.

Luckily, they reached Alfred's New York apartment before anything really awkward could set in. Practically fleeing for their lives from the vehicle, America tossed the cash at the driver, including a generous tip, and fumbled for what seemed like forever with his keys to get the door open. Once open, however, there was nothing holding them back.

The front door was slammed closed as Alfred was shoved back against it by his brother. In seconds, his shirt was gone, and they were lip-locked again, reaching for every inch of skin they could get. They struggled down the hall towards the bedroom, their four legs failing to co-ordinate themselves very well. When at last they were falling onto the plush surface of the bed (with Alfred on top), they were both shirtless, with bruised lips and reddened necks from countless love bites.

A random thought occurred to America as he broke their lengthy kiss, and moved further down on the hot and bothered blonde beneath him. He felt the need to speak what was on his mind.

"You know, today is the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation."

"Hmmm, emancipation…" Matthew rolled the world on his tongue as if trying a new flavour for the first time. "It's so familiar, yet I just…can't put my finger on it. What does it mean?"

God, his brother was so hammered…Then again, this may be a good thing for Alfred. He could certainly use this to his advantage. "It means to take one's pants off."

"I guess it makes sense to have it on New Year's…" Those hazy violet eyes turned to him again. "Allie Al, will you emancipate me, please?

Alfred chuckled slightly at his brother's use of the word emancipation, ignoring what Matthew had called him. He didn't think that would actually work. Matt was soooooo out of it.

"Of course, Mattie," Al responded instead, unbuttoning his sibling's pants painfully slowly. Matthew bit down on his lip as he watched Alfred lean closer to his crotch to grab the tab of his zipper between those perfect white teeth and pull down. Next those slightly calloused hands were pulling off his skinnies and exposing his long trapped hard on to blessed freedom (he'd gone commando). Matthew couldn't help but moan.

Alfred's cock twitched at that sound and sight, and he had to fight to stay in control and not just take his brother then and there. Gently, Al brought the Canadian's cock into his mouth and began to suck. The reaction was instantaneous. In moments, Alfred had the blonde writhing on the sheets and moaning with abandon.

He stopped quite suddenly, not wanting his brother to just get off and fall asleep before he was able to take care of his own problem. Leaning over Matthew's quivering body, America reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a tube of lube. As his focus returned once more to the Canadian, he found his lips occupied once more in a tender, loving kiss no less filled with passion than any of the others he'd received that night.

Somehow, he'd managed to coat a few fingers in lube without breaking away, and find Matthew's entrance without a hitch. Not bad for being drunk off his ass. Alfred pressed a slick digit into the blonde's hole, and swallowed the other's moan, of pleasure or discomfort he wasn't sure.

After he thought he'd stretched Canada as much as he could with one finger, Alfred inserted a second, and scissored him a bit before going deeper. By the way his brother snapped them apart and uttered a keening mewl, Alfred knew he had found Matthew's sweet spot. Adding a third finger, he continued to thrust sometimes shallowly and sometimes not, drawing out the Canadian's release as long as he could.

Finally, Al had had enough. He couldn't take listening to his brother's delicious sounds anymore. Removing his fingers, much to Matthew's disappointment, America was about to undo his own pants when a hand against his stopped him.

"Let me emancipate you, Al." How could anyone reject those lusting eyes? Removing his hand, Alfred felt another take its place, and soon he was deposed of both pants and boxers. Then lithe fingers were wrapping around his shaft and pumping slowly, covering his dick in cool lube. Alfred tried to hold in a moan, but that failed miserably.

Assuming that either he was thoroughly prepared or Matt was getting impatient, Alfred felt a tug on his cock that brought him forward to rest against his brother's slick hole. Taking the hint, he pressed in gradually, allowing Matthew time to adjust.

"Faster, idiot," Canada breathed, rocking his hips to get America's cock in deeper. Alfred obliged, speeding up as he searched around for that one spot that would have his near-twin seeing stars…

"AH! There, right…right there…Ahh~"

"Matt…"Alfred panted. "Matt, I…I want you t-ohh…to say it. Say emancipation." Oh this was going to be such good blackmail.

"Mmmm Alfred…Emancipate me harder."

Lifting up Matt's legs and forcing them down on either side of the blonde's body, Alfred was better able to hit that spot every time. In no time, his brother was an absolute mess, fisting the bed sheets and screaming out his pleasure between moans. Alfred couldn't help but moan with him, not only from the tightness around his cock, but because those sounds themselves were almost enough to get him off. But he wasn't done with his joke.

"Do you like it when I emancipate you like this, baby?" Alfred spoke quickly, getting the words out in a single breath before groaning as he slammed in again.

"YES! Oh God, yes…I love being e-MAN (perhaps he'd thrusted a little too hard there)-cipated by you, Alfr-Ah! I'm gonna…I'm-" But he was denied release by a hand around his weeping member. Looking up into Alfred's eyes (half covered by sweaty hair as they were), Matthew caught a glint of mischief, even if his brain couldn't really comprehend what it meant at that moment.

"Scream it, Mattie. Scream 'emancipation'."

America thrusted hard and deep into his brother, leaving him breathless for a moment before the other blonde muttered, "E-emancip-ation…ah…"

"Louder," Al commanded, thrusting even more viciously, and grunting with his efforts. He was so close…

"Emancipation…" Canada moaned out, all senses on a pleasure overload as the sensation built up in his abdomen. It was becoming impossible to bear, and yet it felt so good…A few tears rolled their way down his cheeks.

"Louder, Matt!" Alfred yelled, thrusting once more and giving it his all.

"EMANCIPATION!" Matthew screamed, coming hard as his prostate was hit dead on and the hand was removed simultaneously. The Canuck only just managed to maintain his grasp on consciousness, loving the wave of pleasure and satisfaction that rolled through him. His body tingled as he tried to regain his breath.

Alfred came as soon as he felt his brother tighten around his deeply buried cock. He closed his eyes and saw light dance around in the darkness behind his lids. Oh God, that was awesome. He'd have to get his bro drunk more often if the night was going to end like this every time. Feeling something warm and sticky under his chin, Alfred brought up his fingers to wipe away at…cum? Holy shit, Matthew must have had and even better orgasm than he did.

Pulling out with a wet squelch, and placing the Canadian's legs carefully back onto the bed, Alfred collapsed beside his brother. The blonde seemed to be completely unfazed by the white liquid leaking out of his ass as he wrapped his arms around the American and snuggled close. Alfred did likewise, though his muscles were screaming at him to stop moving so much.

He was just about to drift off when he heard Matt say, "You can emancipate me anytime, Al." The Canadian then proceeded to lick at his brother's neck. Wait, did he just taste his own cum?

"Well, if you want to go again, Mattie…" But Alfred's sultry voice fell on deaf ears as he noticed that Canada had just passed out cold in his arms. Grinning, he kissed his brother on the forehead, and decided to join him in pleasant and well-deserved slumber. Best New Year's ever.

Alfred awoke to an empty bed, and the sound of someone throwing up down the hall. His head felt like it was about to split in half, and he gave a pained groan to accent this fact. The toilet was flushed and the trail of footsteps became louder and louder until he saw Matthew standing on unsure legs at the door.

"Man, you look like shit," Alfred stated plainly in a low voice. Neither of them could handle loud voices in their condition.

"What happened last night?" Matt asked groggily, returning to the bed. He was still naked, having evidently rushed to the washroom before he could upchuck all over Alfred's new rug.

"We fucked," America stated plainly again. He was very good at that, whether he was hung over or not.

"I figured," Matthew moodily replied. "I mean, did anything else happen?"

"You were so sloshed that I managed to convince you that emancipation meant to take your pants off, and I made you come so hard while screaming it. It was epic."

There was a long pause. "You ass!" the Canadian yelled, causing both of their minds to ring with pain. "Seriously, what the fuck, Al. Why would you fucking do something like that? Just take fuckin' advantage of drunk people. Emancipation, what the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you, eh?"

"You just said fuck, like, five times," Alfred could barely stop himself from laughing full out, though Matt could easily tell in his voice. "You also said eh-"

"I don't fuckin' care!" Again with the yelling…Suddenly, Matt stared him in the eye deadly serious like. "You will tell no one that this happened."

"But what if I'm in the mood for a Big Mac and I'm too lazy to get it?"

"What if I'm in the mood for America steak?"

"Well, if you wanted a piece of this meat so badly…"

That's when he got a pillow to the face. "You're incorrigible," Matthew growled, but when Alfred removed the pillow, he saw his brother smirking.

"Last night was awesome…" The Canuck declared after a comfortable moment of silence.

"Yeah…"

"But seriously, don't tell anyone."

"And if I do?"

"I'll chop your balls off."

"Fair 'nough. Wanna go get Denny's?"

"Sure."

And they never spoke of the incident again, for the sake of Alfred's balls.

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A Note From Blaklite: I was listening to Club Villain by Your Favorite Martian (RWJ ftw) while I was writing the club section. I couldn't help but think: I can't keep partying 'round, keep partying 'round with all these nations. Yeah…