I feel bad I haven't updated this for like a week...I was so good about it before. However, Metro-con got in the way, it was amazing, even though I only went two out of the three days, but I loved every second of it. I would definitely go again. I'm was just so tired. I was China the whole time though, the Hetalia Photoshot was amazing...I love the RussiaxChina picture, only because I pictured a Russia capturing me with their pipe...and they did...with a another Russia behind me. Korea almost had my breasts though...
Any way, I don't own anything...or did the deposit go through...no just kidding, still don't own squat.
America glared at the ceiling. It was bad enough the other nations had figured it was best he stay cooped up in his room, but it was worse that he had nothing had to do, unless you figure out thinking. He had to ask the two policemen posted at his door if he could get something for breakfast downstairs, they of course gave him a curt answer of no. Thirty minutes later there was a knock, before the door opened to reveal a guard with a plate of food.
America just figured it was best not to eat, so he took up the activity of glaring at the ceiling. Anything to stop him from thinking, because ever since he got in the room it was all he did was think. It wasn't about what they wanted him to think about that was for sure, but it was driving him crazy.
He turned on his side sharply, cursing as he does so. England's words about ruining things still in his head. It was the first time he had really been able to actually think about them. He pouted; he didn't ruin the relationship between him and his England, had he? No, he had tried to make things different, shake things up a bit.
Groaning, he clammed a pillow over his head. Who was he trying to kid, that was the fattest lie in the world. The moment he came up with the idea of England being his sex slave, he had ruined every part of the relationship he had with England.
In this world, America and England had a political relationship. It wasn't an alliance, it was clearly the word relationship. They fell in love later than him and his England, but they must have been happy in it still. In his world, America could easily turn England into a state with just a blink of an eye, but he doesn't. Every time someone brings it up he would grow angry and send them and the idea packing. Yet, now he wonders why.
He thought about the countless times England had run from him, only for him to find him buried between rose bushes. Glancing at his hands, he remembers the cuts they got from fishing him out and pressing England against his person tightly. All the strength he had gripped England with, like he would poof away at any moment.
Memories grew more intense, drifting to the one where he told England he needed to exist in every way he could. It was the first time he fucked England. No, that wasn't the right word, it was flat out love making, he concluded. England had even said such when they were having it, because America wasn't sure exactly what he should call it.
Rolling over, he isn't all to shocked to discover he's hard. Well that was dandy, now he needs a shower, because there was no other release for him in sight. He doesn't care, he had done it before. What he cared about more was what he was thinking abut that got him like that. He blamed this world's England for being so independent and stubborn, and his England for making him think about the fact that he had ruined their relationship.
Slamming the pillow back on the bed he got up from the bed and headed into the shower. Tugging his simple T-shirt over his head, and turning the water all the way on cold. Flinging off his pants, America stepped into the shower and hissing at the harsh, cold temperature. He learns to get over it quickly, letting the cold water run down his back.
His hand wanders downwards, slower than anyone else would. A moan wiggles lose of his lips after a few gentle strokes. America leans against the tile wall, knowing there is a light blush on his cheeks. He sinks as his strokes grow faster and in number. He moans encouragements to no one it seems.
His mind trying to produce some other image of England being the one who was stroking him as so. It wasn't working it seemed. Biting his lip he hoped to stop any more moans from wiggling their way out of everything. It doesn't help, and he can't produce a growl of displeasure.
"Art—England~." He moans out as he came breathlessly. America curses to himself, trying to focus on the burning cold water, rather than what he said at his release. However like most things he tries to do, it fails, and he wonders why he had said such a thing.
Something clicks. Part of him still loves his England. He doesn't want anything to change because he loves England.
Cursing he got up quickly, he's legs feel like jelly. He slams he water off and rips a towel from it's spot, drying himself off. He pulls his boxers back on, and his shirt, before stumbling into his bed. He wants to sleep, so he forces himself into one.
Alfred is greeted by an England standing in the bathroom doorway, wearing…Alfred's practically ran in the direction he came. Alfred had just come from a far to long meeting (some stupid rule about not leaving before they figured out a solution) and he was tired. England was wearing a rather revealing police uniform, giggling as he tugged down on the shorts in the most ungentlemanly way. He loses balance and nearly topples to the ground if he hadn't latched on to the door frame or had Alfred grab him in shock.
Arthur laughs loudly, and there's no doubt he's drunk…Alfred had to remind himself this Arthur was a sex slave, if anything he was use to sure revealing outfits. Therefore, he wouldn't blush, even in the slightest, unless he was really trying to get America horny. Alfred helps him to his feet, but Arthur doesn't release his arm what so ever.
"Are you drunk?" Alfred asks, blushing red, and hoping the blood didn't try to find another way out.
Arthur rambles something, giggling and swinging a bit as Alfred tried to free his arm from the old man. It doesn't work, Arthur just presses against him full body, driving Alfred into the room, he gulps as the door clicks. Arthur continues to ramble, and Alfred can make out little of what he's saying. "The fairies—try something—prohibition sucks—Mr. Russia—vodka." The Englishman licks his lips, his green eyes shining in a way Alfred isn't use to.
"We should get you to bed," Alfred said as he tried to peel Arthur a way from him, but the Englishman still somehow manages to stay on and steer him.
"I agree," Arthur chuckled falling back onto the bed, and taking the larger American with him. Arthur giggles loudly under Alfred, hiccupping from time to time. "We should get—hic—you to bed."
Alfred laughs, "How much did you have?" Alfred asks as he pries England off him and presses his body just out reach.
"So you can be rough," Arthur purrs with laugher, his accent screwing words over as he speaks, but America makes them out, his use to it. "You shouldn't handle an officer like so."
Alfred curses in his head, it was like Arthur once again trying to get Alfred hard, sadly it was working…all to well. Alfred blamed the clothes and the fact that Arthur still managed to work his words to be sexual and not a complaint about the fact that Alfred left him. He pushed Arthur further on the bed, causing the Englishman to giggle and produce more sexual coos that made him hard to ignore.
Arthur kisses him suddenly, grabbed him by the face and raped his mouth with his tongue. He caught Alfred off guard and flipped him hard onto the bed's pillows. The America is wide eyed, but doesn't fight Arthur much, and when he did, Arthur would just pull something out his sex slave book and cause Alfred to freeze in his hold. Alfred's face was burning red as he helplessly moaned.
CLICK! Blue eyes widened as Arthur smiles pulling away from the kiss, wiping his mouth with his gloved hand, biting the edge of the glove to fix it. Alfred rattles his hands, finding them handcuffed together and connected to the headrest somehow.
"See, I had to restrain you," Arthur smiles, wavering a bit as he straighten up in his saddle of Alfred.
His hand's reach for something on the nightstand and Alfred turns to watch him fumble around for the vodka bottle. He takes a swig of it, before Alfred tried to say something only to have Arthur kiss him, forcing vodka in his mouth. Alfred just about chokes when Arthur pulls away and puts the bottle back. His pale hands wander back behind him, finding the hard bulge he created, and making Alfred gasp and blush like crazy.
"Did I do that?" Arthur asked innocently asked, "I should take care of it."
"Arthur, I really don't think that's necessary," Alfred said hurriedly, but Arthur turned around anyway, and slammed his feet into Alfred's shoulders, pinning him down.
Of course, Alfred goes unnoticed by Arthur, who works his suit pants with ease, sliding them off, and shoving his boxers down as well. Alfred gasped, trying to look up and ignore the fact that Arthur had a very tone and sexy back side that the whole outfit commented nicely. He cursed at the sudden feeling of nothing covering him, and the fact that Arthur his looking at him, upside down, while his blonde likes brush his erection slightly.
There was no way Alfred could say anything, not with Arthur grinning like he found some amazing pirate treasure. "You should just relax and think of your England."
That didn't help, because his England would never do this…or that's what he though. Alfred moans as Arthur suddenly latches on to his cock, his tongue working wonders as he sucks. He can't think of the Arthur he has at home, because he wouldn't be doing this drink. He might try, but America could tell him off, or talk the drunk out of it. Besides his Arthur was too shy for something like this, seeing as how they had just had sex a mere week or so after a good deal of time figuring out their relationship.
Arthur took him in further and Alfred whimpered a bit, wishing it didn't feel so great. Regardless Arthur chuckled, sending waves of pleasure through him. Alfred blushed as he moaned, cursing Arthur for being so damn good at this, and not being in a position where Alfred could shove him off with his foot. He had tried, but the older blonde had easily held down the other's legs when he attempted the first time.
Defeated, Alfred closed his eyes and dropped his head back, but he wasn't thinking about his England. He might have if they had been more sexually active with the other sooner, because Alfred knew his Arthur had some tricks up his sleeves. He tried to think of something else, like the rules at the meeting, or something that wasn't involving Arthur and having him sucking him off.
It wasn't working, because he knew Arthur's ass was perfectly in front of him, and he was moaning encouragement for the other to continue. He hated admitting it felt fucking wonderful. Arthur supplied speed and didn't hold back when he took Alfred all the way in. Alfred in the meanwhile was both dying of embarrassment and drowning in pools of wonderful pleasure.
"Arthur…ah~…I really…nngh…don't understand why—" Alfred doesn't get to finish his own sentence, for he moans to loud as he comes in Arthur's mouth.
Arthur swallows it easily it seems, before he puts everything back to normal, not saying a word. He crawls off Alfred and comes to rest beside him. His gloved hand weaving through Alfred's hair, urging the tiredness to take him. "You should sleep, you look tired," Arthur slurs, and amazingly Alfred finds himself doing what he was told.
Fail!Porn. I wish it was better, but I was blushing like mad and not wanting my parents to see it...so it fails. I totally like "Oh please hurry up and be done scene!" Any way, the ending one was a little bit better, but not by much.
So, AU!America, or Evil America as some call him, realize he still loves his England. I really can't picture America and England not being in love...I don't know why. Maybe because they just seem to work, I don't know! I feel bad for locking him in a room though, but he was a naughty boy...Oh no, I just had an image of something I shouldn't have. (Let me see!) No! Get out of my head! (Oh, it's lovely.)
Also Alfred get's some sexy times with the other England. I was like, what should I make him wear...I blame the Police England and Metro-con...Why the hell did they have to where that outfit...I was inspired...sort of. If only there was an America around, I would have died for sure do to nosebleed. Who knew China secretly supported USxUK? So yeah!
Please RxR and I'll love you for ever...but just remember I'm Russia's!