The cup of tea had been very good.

Arthur was balls deep down Alfred's throat hitting the back of it mercilessly, his bony fingers dug deep into honey colored gold hair, pulling at it in intervals of suction. Through lust filled emerald eyes, he watched Alfred prepare himself for him, three fingers deep, arching into his violating digits, moaning around his mouthful. The vibrations shook Arthur to his core, letting him know that the other was close and open enough to find his own tender pleasure spot.

"Off and out.", Arthur commanded, pulling sharply at shining strands to emphasize his point. Alfred groaned, shivering as he stopped filling himself on both ends. He sat back pouting as he looked up beseechingly at Arthur, who smirked in return.

"Hands and knees, pet.", Arthur grinned, licking his upper lip slowly with the tip of his tongue in a languid motion. Alfred followed instructions immediately, the American's eagerness drawing out a dry chuckle from his English counterpart. Arthur admired the view, leaning over to run his hands down the lines of a broad muscular back, watching the play of curves and lines, enjoying the roll of power through them. He cupped firm tight butt cheeks to spread them apart achingly wide, making Alfred expose himself more to him. Arthur rubbed his cock in the base of that valley, teasing the puckered entrance there as Alfred trembled underneath the barest of touches in anticipation. Alfred looked over his shoulder at the leering Brit, wordlessly begging for his participation.

"Patience is a virtue.", Arthur sighed hotly, leaning over to let the warm air of his breathe caress sensitive regions that squirmed in response. Arthur traced around the border of the fleshy entrance before him, sliding his head across it lightly to coat it in precum.

"Don't make me beg.", Alfred gasped, as he felt the bulbous head slip in partly to be taken out again too soon. His sadist lover was sweetly torturing him.

"But I love it when you do.", Arthur purred, biting his bottom lip seductively as he eased the tip in again to only extract to an answering groan. Firm hands and hard fingertips kept Alfred in place as this continued over and over again.

"Oh please Mr. Empire, sir. Fuck me blind. I have been ever so good.", Alfred said in a high teasing tone, wiggling his ass. He received a sharp smack for his cheek, yelping at the contact.

"Brat.", Arthur snorted, pushed into that tight heat all the way up to the hilt in one smooth motion. Alfred braced himself up on his forearms, gritting his teeth at the sudden penetration.

"Perverted old man.", he growled back, to be slammed with another hard thrust.

"Hmmm…..I am going to just take this out then since it is obvious you are not enjoying it.", Arthur said lightly, amused to see Alfred throw a frantic look over his shoulder as he pulled out completely to return to the chair.

"You wouldn't…..", Alfred groaned, empty and unfilled. He sat up to watch Arthur settle himself back into the depths of the cushy Chesterfield, seemingly completely oblivious to his own raging hard on as he went back to sipping his tea.

"You know I would, but you can make it up to me.", Arthur mused, quirking a bushy eyebrow at the other. Alfred slowly nodded back, waiting for the other to say his terms.

"How?", Alfred ventured to a responding evil grin.

"Oh….I'll think of something….."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
Every satellite up here is wanting
Waiting to see what the morning brings
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO

It had been a hellish aerial battle filled with the bright sparks of gunfire and marked explosions. Arthur had watched with bated breath at the dog fight high over head, the American's distinct plane with it ridiculous grinning face on it was easy enough to spot from its darker attackers. The pair had just returned from Italy, Alfred making a daring and completely ridiculous rescue of his English counterpart which had involved dangling Arthur midair from a length of rope. Arthur still couldn't figure how that had panned out but Alfred had delivered them safely back to base when trouble had appeared on the horizon on swift wings.

Ludwig had sent some of his bombers after them in retaliation. Alfred had taken off within a moment's notice despite being outnumbered five to one. He had faired well enough though, dispatching all of his enemies save for one very talented pilot who was currently painting Alfred's plane with bullets, causing dark smoke to trail from Alfred's wings like billowing feathers. Arthur watched it with horror filled eyes as the manmade bird dipped, struggling to stay up in the air.

It might have ended poorly if not for some last minute reinforcements, driving off the last Nazi so that Alfred could safely land the plane. Arthur had run over to find the bomber and its pilot full of holes.

Alfred turned out to be less worse off than the plane apparently, the nation clinging to the hull of it, weeping for his wounded love. He had to be pulled away from his beloved "Winged Glory" to the infirmary by a very irate Brit.

"Really! Such a fuss over a pile of metal.", Arthur scolded, extracting another slug from Alfred's body. The larger nation released the breath he had been holding. He would not die form his wounds but they still hurt like hell.

"It's not just a 'pile of metal'. She's my baby. I built her from scratch myself.", Alfred sniffled plaintively, wincing as antiseptic was slapped over another seeping hole.

"Fuck! A little warning!", Alfred snapped pulled out of his revelry to adjust his grip on the bed.

"Oh my apologies poppet. I am removing numerous bullets from your body. This is going to sting just a bit.", Arthur said overly sweet, rolling his eyes as he pulled another wound apart to aid in metal removal. Alfred groaned as the forceps scraped cauterized sides, a slick sweat forming on his tanned skin.

"Suck it up! I'm almost done.", Arthur sighed, wanting to soothe away the hurt but not knowing how to really anymore. It wasn't like Alfred had scraped his knees like when he was little, when all wounds could be fixed with a kiss on the cheek, a tight hug, and a (slightly burnt)scone.

"Wonderful bedside manner doc. Been takin lessons from Jack of Ripper?", Alfred grumbled, yelping at a particular painful twist of metal, laced with full intention.

"Oh sorry about that. I slipped.", Arthur said cloyingly sweet.

"Fucking sadist.", Alfred growled, glaring over his shoulder at his 'doctor'.

"What was that, pet?", Arthur cooed, tossing the last bullet into the metal pan to a loud final sound. Alfred huffed into his wadded up uniform, a makeshift pillow, deciding to let it go.

"You are going to have to sit up so that I can clean your wounds and bandage you.", Arthur said gruffly, pulling lightly at an appendage. Alfred sat up groaning, his torso a rough mess though the wounds were already bleeding less and less by the minute.

"Pfffft…If I just lay here, they will probably be all gone by tomorrow.", Alfred complained, his voice colored with tones of exhaustion and pain. He shuddered as more disinfectant stung his skin.

"Well bully for you, but I am your physician and I will not have you bleeding on everything. Blood is horrendous to remove out of fabrics.", Arthur said firmly, wiping away left over blood..

"If you're my nurse, shouldn't you be wearing a cute little pink outfit then?", Alfred quirked, cheekily winking at the other. He was met with a hard look.

"I still have very sharp implements with in reach, pet", Arthur warned, neatly laying out the bandages.

"Sheesh….Can't ever take a fucking joke…..", Alfred sighed, seeming to lose strength as he slouched over into a rough ball. Arthur chewed at his inner cheek as he made the other sit up again with a groan. Alfred was so near, not shying away from him, even leaning into his touch from time to time. Arthur found himself wanting, a burning need deep within him a like a little flame. The American's close proximity to him was like throwing gasoline on it. It flared up with a frightening intensity becoming a forest fire.

It had always been there really, that want, ever since they had met so long ago. It had started out as just pure greed, the need for land, the yearning for the power and wealth that came with it. Along the way though, Arthur had been made to feel. Bright smiles and endless sky eyes filled with love that were only for him and him alone had broken through centuries old walls of mental protection leaving Arthur bare to new emotions and sensations. Greed changed coats from one of power to one of wanting. Wanting to keep all of that precious love to himself and ever let another see it. He had fought himself bloody to protect his little colony, forcefully removing any who had stood in his way or tried to oppose him. For all his best intentions and sins though, he had lost what had been most precious to him….

…But now….Alfred was back…He was back within arm's reach so achingly close, something tangible between them. Arthur could feel it with every brushing touch, could see it with every sideways glance, and could hear it in words that held double meanings. Francis, as per usual, had been the first to point it out. Arthur wanted to smack him for it. As old as he was, Arthur was well aware what was going on. He simply chose not to acknowledge it. Alfred was back and that was all that mattered. To pursue anything other than a friendship would be detrimental. Arthur knew himself very well. He knew if he let himself slip, there would be no stopping it. Arthur was well aware if he let himself fall for Alfred, he was never going to let him go this time.

Finishing with his thought, Arthur realized that a long moment of silence had lapped between them. The English nation licked his lips nervously, unsure of how to fill it's void. It seemed surreal to be with Alfred and silence in the same room. Arthur, a master of small talk due to over a millennia of court, found himself inexplicably without much to say, tongue tied for the first time in centuries. Alfred didn't look like he was going to say anything anytime soon either, the American's eyes closed, his body slumping over in its sitting position. He flinched to a state of awareness when Arthur pressed gauze padding to one of his many wounds. Arthur stumbled mentally for a distraction.

"So…..I read you have deserts." Arthur ventured desperately, remembering something he had seen in a science journal years ago. Alfred blinked in surprise at the statement.

"Yeah, I have tons of them. Why?", Alfred asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he took off Texas, setting his glasses off to the side but not before giving the ornery state a warning glare to stay put.

"I just never realized….", Arthur trailed off awkwardly, finding the lack of glass wear on Alfred's visage suddenly very distracting. Sky blue eyes turned to regard him, their full beauty unhindered. It made the nation look younger if not for the age and experience that now jaded those perfect azure blue crystal orbs. Despite himself, Arthur found he could not look away from them, their hue intoxicating leaving the older nation feeling unbearably warm.

Alfred shifted uneasily, waking Arthur back up to reality to realize he had been openly staring. He felt a telltale blush flood his pale skin as he turned his focus back to the bandages and not the heavy silence that now sat like a brick between them.

"Is that too tight?", Arthur asked finally, unable to bear with it any longer. He needed to finish this task and leave as soon as possible, before he lost himself to his desires. That being said, his fingertips lingered seconds longer that they should have over the smooth contours of golden skin, so warm to the touch like it held sunlight itself in its depths.

"Yeah, that's fine.", Alfred mumbled, finding it hard to breath being so close to Arthur. His scent, his warmth, his entire being was too close for comfort. He longed for the Englishman, so much so it physically hurt at times. It had been that way ever side that day in the muddy field under the fall of rain. Alfred had gotten what he had wanted, what his people needed but at a very high price, one he thought he would never see return on. Now though….it gave him such a stupid thrill to be just near Arthur without animosity( well, not the real kind at least). To have the other talk with him, even if it was just battle plans and troop movements left the American feeling happily numb. To ruin that now though…Alfred didn't want to think about it. He had experienced that type of loss before, so he made himself think about baseball instead of the pale gorgeous creature whose touch made his body burn.

Pale digits did not vacate their positions on the planes of his skin though, tenaciously sliding down muscular arms feeling their width to glide back up and over to collarbones and a bobbing Adam's apple as Alfred swallowed hard.

"What are you doing?", Alfred whispered, making a careful study of Arthur's Italian suit to avoid looking at him. It really did look good on him, though his pale golden hair was back to its normal mess, the mid air plane rescue a heavy factor in that.

"You grew up….." was all that Arthur murmured in response, his fingers doing all of the talking for him as they fanned out to cup a squareish chin, tracing its strong line.

"You just noticed?", Alfred snorted, trying not to react to these odd slow shows of rare affection. He wasn't sure what Arthur was playing at. He hadn't touch him like this…..hell, at all…in centuries, ever since he was a tiny colony(and definitely not in the same manner as this). Alfred wanted more than anything to capture those wandering hands between his own and cover their very existence with his lips. He had never thought hands were sexy until Arthur. Pale, finely formed with long slender digits, they moved with an unnatural grace and precision whether it was warfare or embroidery. He wanted to kiss their tips, suck on their length, nibbled at the meat of their palms and delicate wrists, and whisper secrets into their fortune lines.

Alfred ended up making himself blush at his own thoughts, ducking he head. He moved from that seeking grasping, looking away almost desperately. To his dismay, the other moved with him, ending the gap between their bodies to sit down next to him. Alfred looked back in shock, not bothering to cover up his surprise. He was met with a level emerald look, filled with a hunger, hazy with a heat that made Alfred shiver. Arthur reminded him of a predator suddenly, a cat maybe, sizing up his next canary meal.

"Stop…..just stop it.", Alfred growled, wishing that Arthur would just get all self conscious as per usual and go get a cup of tea or something. When the other made no move to do so though, Alfred decided on making his own tactical retreat until he could sort all this out.

The mere touch of a cool palm on his feverish cheek cleanly stopped any escape attempts as the English nation drew even nearer to him sealing the lines of their bodies.

"Why?", Arthur asked his voice low and husky, that one accented word making every nerve of Alfred's being tingle madly.

"Because you don't mean it…Cause you hate me…..", Alfred found himself babbling, his brain short-circuiting as Arthur drew even closer until their lips were just inches apart.

"What if I do mean it and what if I do not hate you.", Alfred murmured, his sculpted lips brushing the flesh of chapped ones lightly. Alfred parted his mouth to moisten them to find it suddenly filled with Arthur's own slick muscle. Firm fingertips on his jaw kept Alfred's mouth open to be explored at leisure, the Englishman's tongue memorizing every ridge and indentation it seemed. Just when Alfred thought he was going to pass out(and only partly from lack of oxygen), Arthur released him just as abruptly as he had started. Alfred found himself pushed back against the cot, groaning as pressure and the weight of an entire English nation were placed upon his still healing wounds. Alfred panted in pain and in growing desire, his hardening flesh achingly pressed up against Arthur's leg that had somehow settled between his thighs. The island nation smiled as he palmed the erection through layers of clothe watching the other arch his back in reaction to it, accented by more sounds of deep hurt. Despite Alfred's injuries, Arthur would not be detoured from his goal now though, the driving force of want riding him, burning him from the inside out as he tore at boots and clothing frantically to expose as much skin as possible, the American naked in an incredibly short amount of time and laid out before him. Alfred made no effort to stop him, just watched through half lidded eyes, quivering. Arthur paused to stare back to lock gazes with him, his fingers busy removing his own unnecessary clothing.

"Are we really going to do this?", Alfred asked hesitantly, his voice cracking from mixed emotions. Arthur tossed his dress shirt aside, to lean over the American, their chests pressed skin to skin. Arthur ran light fingertips done Alfred's roundish cheeks, tilting his head to the side to expose the corded line of his neck. Arthur press his lips tenderly to the pulse point of it.

"If we do….you must understand it will be forever or never. I will not stand for you being with another after this. If you ever betray me, I will destroy you, I swear it. It may take me centuries, but I will do it. Can you live with that, pet?", Arthur intoned into golden skin. Alfred trembled at the heavy words, causing the other to draw back far enough to look at him. Excepting denial, Arthur nearly faltered when he was met with a soft smile and eyes filled with love.

"I've missed you.", Alfred whispered, as crystalline tears made little silver paths across his skin. He was falling and he didn't care anymore. It was like coming home, or to the end of a long journey. Relief, an odd tiredness, and joy flooded his being making him relax fully, surrendering to his would be captor above him willingly. Arthur could only nod back, his throat too thick with emotion as he leaned back over his former charge. Alfred shuddered as he felt teeth sink into his skin, marking him in shades of bruising and blood. A warm tongue licked at the wound, easing its sting. Alfred closed his eyes, allowing himself to experience this melding through his other senses alone to better memorize them all as it seemed Arthur lose all pretense of patience.

The feel of Arthur's finger upon him as they touched everywhere, exploring places they had never been before to stroke and tease at sensitive flesh. Warm moist breath ghosted over vital regions laid bare as thighs were spread apart, Arthur moving to sit fully between them. Alfred cringed as slick fingers entered him, twisting to stretch him. It was a small pain though, truly ignorable in light of everything else, as a cool hand took hold of his member directly. Alfred's eyes flew back open when a hot mouth swallowed his cock, running a velvety tongue up its length to tease the bulbous tip of it. Alfred leaned up achingly on his forearms to watch Arthur, the Englishman's actions becoming increasingly needy as another finger was added to the fray. Teeth grazed throbbing sides, scraping skin to the sounds of moans as Alfred's head rolled back to his shoulders. It hurt too much to continue leaning up no matter how pleasant the sight, so Alfred flopped back, letting the other nation do whatever he liked…and Arthur did.

By the time the third finger was added to twist and curl, Alfred was at his limit, biting his lip to keep from begging, his hands busy stroking strands of pale gold asking wordlessly for release through touch alone. All of it was taken away though in an instant to leave Alfred feeling void and crying out in loss, his eyes slit to glare up at his smirking tormentor.

"Hush.", Arthur whispered, placing his fingers to abused lip to have them licked. The wet contact made the elder nation gasp, shuddering as he slicked himself with his own essence and salvia. After aligned himself to nudge teasingly at the opening, Arthur planted his hands on either side of Alfred's head so that he could stare down at the American below him.

"You are mine.", Arthur said in a fierce tone as he entered Alfred slowly, branding him with flesh as he made the sensation last as long as possible. Alfred could only pant shallowly in response, his mouth not working properly under the pain/pleasure of being filled so completely. Only when he was deep, did Arthur deign to kiss him, the act itself one of ownership, a marking of tongue and teeth as he started to thrust. Alfred reached up to run his hands down a wiry torso following the lines of it down to swaying hips, feeling the power of muscles working into him, caressing them with encouraging touches, wanting the other to go deeper and faster into him.

Arthur's movement took on frantic motions, pumping in and out of rhythm, Alfred's own neglected erection trapped between them, Arthur's hands more occupied with keeping Alfred's head in place as the ancient left love bites and bruises at his leisure on the New World's throat and jaw. Alfred whined, expressing his needs through meeting thrusts of his own.

Arthur leaned back finally, only pausing long enough to hook the American's long legs over his slender shoulders. Alfred reacted ecstatically to the deeper penetration, the angle rubbing his bundle of nerves in all the right places. Arthur smirked as he grasped the weeping member in front him again, pumping in time to his thrusts, his completion already well at hand as his seed hotly filled the other to the point of leaking. Alfred cried out under the sensation, finally being allowed to finish as he painted the other's hand white with milky fluid.

The two lay there panting as they rode out the remainder of their orgasms, small fine muscles twitching occasionally. Arthur surprised Alfred by drawing away first to clean himself off with some leftover gauze, his expression oddly blank.

Alfred watched him as he redressed himself completely in silence, while the American was too tired to even bother wiping himself down. Feeling crestfallen at the lack of intimate afterglow cuddling, Alfred turned away with a sigh, his bandaged back to the other as the he berated himself for hoping, for giving in, for letting himself be so naive.

Alfred found himself being turned back over by firm but gentle hands that wiped away fluids and sweat, finishing to cover him up with a heavy blanket. Soft lips pressed themselves to a still sweaty brow.

"Don't look so melancholy. I will be back. I still have to give my report to British Intelligence…..and don't you dare even think about making a joke about that.", Arthur softly chided him, stroking at almost feverish rosy cheeks, his clover gaze lingering on a sky toned one. Alfred stared back at him despondently unsure of what to believe.

"Go to sleep, pet. I will be here when you wake up.", Arthur said gently to an answering sigh toned with disbelief. Alfred turned back over unable and unwilling to watch the other leave. Exhaustion flooding his being as Alfred fell asleep, hoping beyond hope, praying that Arthur would be there…..that this was all not just some weird fantasy or dream…and as unlikely as it was, that Arthur would be there for him when he woke up…..

…..and he was.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
May bring sunshine on it's wings
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO

Alfred sat that the end of the conference table waiting impatiently for the meting to begin. He was starting to remember why he was always late to these things in the first place. All around him countries spoke in their native tongues-German, Italian, Spanish, French, Russian, Chinese, Japanese-all swirling around him in a noisy offbeat melody of constant noise. It was giving Alfred one hell of a headache, but not for reasons anyone would have actually assumed about the burger loving nation.

If he were to say something about it, all the nations would just chalk it up to the American's well known intolerance for 'gibberish' languages and call him an ignorant idiot who couldn't read a map off a Happy Meal box. That could not be further from the truth though(well not the map part, GPS becoming standard in vehicles was partly due to Alfred's influence). It wasn't that Alfred couldn't understand these languages. The real problem was that he could understand all of them, perfectly, every single word uttered.

Every nation could communicate with each other through the 'nation language', a unique tongue established since the beginning and was known inherently by each and every nation in existence. It was the reason why nations like Japan could speak to Germany and be understood. Native tongue of particular lands had to be learned. A nation with an ear and tongue for learning languages, such as England, had the upper hand in situations being able to communicate directly with the locals. A nation could also learn another language effortlessly if they had a population large enough in their lands who spoke it. In that case, the nation could learn it through osmosis of culture.

Alfred's gift and curse lied in the fact that every nation, every culture were apart of his own. He knew most, if not all, of the languages of the world, their many dialects becoming part of him seamlessly due to mass immigration.

Dozens of languages reached him all at once and were translated in his head so that he followed numerous conversation without even really trying. It was giving him one hell of a headache.

When meeting were in session, it was mandatory for all nations to speak in their one tongue so that everyone would follow the meeting, hence why Alfred always tended to be late.

Alfred buried his head into his arms, attempting to escape it all. It was a secret he did not want anyone else finding out, cause all heroes had a back up secret…and it was incredibly useful at times, though it had been terribly tempting during the Cold War to tell Ivan off fluidly in his own native tongue where he could stick his missiles.

A hand on his shoulder made Alfred look up into emerald orbs that held a hint of concern in them behind their mask of feigned indifference.

"Are you alright? You look like you are in pain. Did you eat Taco Bell with McDonalds again? You know what happens when you do that. Fourth meal is not actually a real thing, you know. It is just something you made up as an excuse to binge eat at 4am in the morning.", Arthur lectured, holding up an aspirin bottle. Alfred waved him off irritably.

"Super….just got a damn headache.", Alfred muttered, trying to focus solely on the English spoken to him. He like English, especially since it had been given to him by the one he loved the most in this world. Alfred tried to keep it the main language in his culture because of this, though that was slowly changing. He was just lucky Antonio was so slow on the uptake or else he might of reckoned by now that Alfred could understand him when he was cussing him out. Mexico had already figured it out(at least about the Spanish part after a bad night of tequila shots) but didn't really give a damn. No love was lost between her and Spain either so she wasn't about to help him out by giving him the heads up.

Arthur was still talking about something but honestly, Alfred was just listening to the flow and meter of the wording not the actual content. He often wondered why he never learned to speak with the same accent, it being the same language and all, and Arthur being his teacher of it. Instead, he had multiple accents nationwide, each unique in their own right that didn't resemble an English accent in the slightest.

"Are you even listening to me, git!?", Arthur snapped suddenly, smacking Alfred upside his head. Alfred winced exaggeratedly, giving the English nation his best hangdog expression.

"Sorry. It's turning into a migraine.", Alfred lied, enjoying the look of chagrin on Arthur's face.

"If you want to go out into the stairwell for some respite, I will call you back when the meeting is ready to begin.", Arthur offered rather than apologizing. Alfred nodded in agreement, heading immediately to the side door that let to the bare little landing of stairs, sighing in relief at the blessed silence of the vacant space.

There was a small window illuminating the bare cement and metal railings. Alfred leaned up against it, looking out at the blurry shapes through the frosted glass. He didn't mind being alone, not really, actually enjoyed it. Of course being alone and feeling alone are two entirely different things. He found himself idly wondering about the concepts of it as he vaguely acknowledged the door behind him opening and someone entering his quiet moment. The smell of rain and salt left him know that it was Arthur, without the other announcing his presence. What surprised him though was when quick hands unbuckled his belt and jerked down his pants leaving his bare bottom kissing cool air-conditioned air.

"You are such a dirty old man.", Alfred chuckled, not bothering to turn around.

"Belt it and brace yourself.", Arthur snapped in return, freeing his hardon though the front of his slacks. Alfred felt a slick head brush up against his entrance to push past the fleshy barrier, Arthur sheathing himself in one fluid movement.

"You carry lube on you. Why am I not surprised? And thanks the foreplay there. You are such a damn gentleman.", Alfred grunted, leaning back as he spread his legs to better accommodate his lover.

"You are still open from last night and this morning. I like you better this tight and you know you love it anyway.", Arthur smirked darkly, setting a quick pace, his thrusts jabbing in to the slap of skin. He quickly found the other's prostate to start abusing it mercilessly. Alfred pushed back in time, gritting his teeth in between hot pants of air.

"I didn't realize 'I'll get you when the meeting starts' was code for 'I want to rabbit fuck you'. Did you even remember to lock the door?", Alfred teased to be answered back with deeper, savage thrusts that almost sent him to his knees.

"Be a love and do shut the fuck up. Of course I remembered to. I would never hear the end of it from the frog.", Arthur panted, smacking Alfred's ass hard enough to leave a vivid red handprint for emphasis. Alfred arched his back into, finally giving into the impulse to sink to his hands and knees so that Arthur could pound him into the concrete. He also grew quiet waiting for what he wanted to hear most.

"Rwyf wrth fy modd I chi."

"Is bre`a liom t`u"

"Tá grá agam duit."

Arthur never said 'I love you'….at least not in English but in all fairness neither did Alfred. The most he ever said was 'I missed you'. For some unknown reason though, Arthur would repeatedly tell him those three little words in Celtic, in Welsh, in Irish, any of his old languages besides modern English. He practically showered the American with those beautiful words when they were together in the most intimate of positions.

They had been together now for decades so it seemed kind of silly after sixty five years of a 'Special Relationship' not to say it. Maybe it was time to change that…

Arthur dragged Alfred's attention back to the sweaty presence with a particularly hard thrust, gripping tanned thighs tightly. Slim fingers dug deeply into toned flesh leaving behind perfect indentations of crescent moons as the Brit came gushing in his release. Alfred arched into it, gripping his own erection as he pumped out his own completion, coating the bare cement with a fresh coat of white.

Alfred sagged forward tiredly as Arthur withdrew to tuck himself back into his slacks. A quick straightening of his clothing and a spritz of cologne completed a dignified look despite having sex just seconds ago. Alfred rolled his eyes at the smug Brit, standing up finally. He would have to go get cleaned up now, which meant being late to the meeting….again. He shrugged at the thought, the concept not really bothering him as he tried to remember where the closest bathroom was. He was surprised when his boxer and pants were pulled up tightly, the leaking mess starting to seep into the fabric.

"What the hell?!", Alfred snapped, feeling cooling essence starting to ooze out of him. This was going to get increasing more uncomfortable as time went on. He found himself dragged forward by a cocky Englishman.

"Meeting is about to start poppet.", Arthur grinned evilly, already flinging the door open so that Alfred could not run off.

"And the cum wedgie, asshole?", Alfred growled softly through the fake smile he presented to the room.

"Something to remember me by. I am especially looking forward to your presentation.", Arthur snickered, taking his seat as the pair ignoring the irate German calling for order and demanding what caused them to hold up the start of the meeting.

Alfred glared back at him, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He waited until Arthur had taken a sip of his tea, the cup hovering near his lips, leaning over to whisper softly into his ear.

"Ddyledus gennych i mi bar newydd o dillad isaf."

Alfred sat back to enjoy the sight of Arthur simultaneously choking on his drink as he spill tea down the front of his suit to gape back at the smug American. Alfred just grinned back. They were going to have one hell of an interesting conversation later. He wouldn't have it any other way.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
On the cloud of unknowing
My world seems open
Every satellite up here is watching
But I was here from the very start
Trying to find a way to your heart

All the days are forgetting
They've gone out with the tide
Lost at sea somewhere, waiting
Like setting suns at the rodeo
Trying to find someone you'll never know

Oh, sinking love
On the cloud of unknowing
Every satellite up here is wanting
Waiting to see what the morning brings
May bring sunshine on it's wings

- The Gorillaz

AN-First flashback is obviously set in WWII at the beginning of the Special Relationship that just celebrated its 65th anniversary.

Second flashback is set in modern times. Please don't flame me if the translations are wrong. I used a program.
'I love you' was spoken in Welsh first, Irish second and Scottish Gaelic third.

The last line was spoken in Welsh and it means 'You owe me a new pair of underwear."