Hellu~ Sorry this took so long to get out! It took me a stupid amount of time to write it... -bows head in shame- Congrats to Genki-angel-chan my 100th reviewer!
America is glad he knows the basic layout of England's house or it would probably be a lot harder to walk around. Once he gets the basic idea that England is taking him towards his bedroom he knows which way to stumble. It is dark though which makes it more difficult.
After fumbling with the door for a moment the two of them cross the threshold. England dumps America on the bed unceremoniously then walks across the room. He removes his coat and throws it over the side of a chair. His hat goes on the dresser, followed by his flintlock.
Sitting in the chair he removes his boots. And all the while his eyes never leave America. Drunken out of his mind America who can barely sit up, who clumsily removes one boot then forgets the other. Pretty little Alfred.
England stands and walks back towards the bed, looking down at him. America blinks repeatedly, trying to bring him into better focus. "You seem to be a bit uncoordinated Alfred, let me help you."
America waves his hand. "Naahhh, I'm fine, shee? I can- I can walk a straight line officher."
While he babbles on England is already removing his other boot. Alfred lifts his head up. "Thanksh for putting me up for the night. I 'preciate it."
England smiles darkly. "It will be my pleasure."
America closes his eyes and lowers his head. Everything is still spinning and all he wants to do is sleep this off. "Ish time for sleep...Mm I'm tired."
England clicks his tongue. "Oh but Alfred, the night isn't quite over for you just yet."
America's eyelids flutter open and he frowns. "Hn? What do ya mean?"
England reaches down and rips his shirt open as if it is the most casual thing in the world. America stares up at him with delayed alarm. However, he immediately feels more alert. "Wh-what did you do that for?"
England slowly traces his fingers along America's chest. "I think you know why."
A chill travels down America's spine. "I...Um, look I don't really think, I mean-"
England interrupts his panicked dialogue, hand still roaming across his chest. "Let me put it this way. I have been thinking about how much I want you since about the moment we met. This was decided long ago. So, it can go two ways. Things can proceed pleasantly and you can be a good boy and enjoy it the way I know you want to or I can take you by force. What do you say Alfred?"
America is thrown for a loop. Wait, where the hell has this come from? One minute they're hanging out and drinking, him mostly being ignored, and all of a sudden England wants to jump him? It's so... wrong. It's weird... it's... preposterous, that's a word he can use right?
England grabs his face and forces America to look at him. "Well?"
America swallows hard and tries to think, a difficult task even when sober. On one hand he can get date raped. By England. Which is really, really embarrassing even if he is all bad ass right now. Or drunkenly try to fight him off. He's not sure what to expect. On the other he can give in to England's past self's desires. Let him do as he pleases...
While the third notion would usually be unthinkable he finds himself... well, frankly not as opposed to it as he probably should be. Maybe it's the alcohol or the fact that England's bad ass attitude actually turns him on a bit, but taking the offer of the man who is currently running his calloused hand across his skin sounds rather appealing at the moment. Not quite as appealing as sleep but not bad. Better than trying to actually coordinate himself to fight him off anyway.
After debating it a moment longer he decides he's not really in the mood for a fight and this England is different enough that it won't be weird getting with him. Drinking so much sure hasn't helped his judgment, that's all he knows. Come to think of it he probably won't even remember in the morning! So what the hell. He clumsily sits up and tries to shrug the ruined shirt off.
England smirks. "There's a lad."
He helps him pull the shirt off and throws it aside. The second it's out of the way he clamps his mouth around Alfred's nipple, swirling his tongue around it.
America shivers. "Hnn! Sh-shurprise attack..."
He begins to giggle drunkenly and England gives him an annoyed look. England pushes him back against the bed, straddling him. "Refrain from making any noises that displease me or I will gag you."
America stifles more obnoxious giggles. "Aye aye Captain. And what noises am I allowed to make?"
England slowly rocks his hips. "You may moan. You may cry out. You may scream my name. You may even beg as long as it is not to stop. Anything other than those should be refrained from. You are very attractive Alfred but you are offensively stupid."
America tries to sit up. "I'm... I"m not stupid! You're stupid, you stupid-"
England kisses him roughly, forcing his tongue into his mouth. He pushes him back against the bed, pinning one of America's wrists. America resists a second then lets himself rest against the bed. It's easier to lie back and let England do the work. And he seems very eager for that task.
Continuing the fierce kiss, England's other hand travels down his torso again exploring the expanse of flesh. When America feels his lungs might burst England finally breaks the kiss, licking his lips. "Mm, you even taste better than what I am used to."
America gives him a slow, doofy grin. "Everything about me ish great."
"Ah ah, what did I say about talking?" He traces his lips along America's jaw and down his neck. Pausing at a spot he sucks roughly as he simultaneously begins to rub one of his nipples. There is no mercy in any of his actions. They are all sharp and demanding.
Oooh this is a lot hotter than America had expected. England isn't supposed to be good at this sort of stuff, he's England. Maybe this is a drunken delusion? Too bad he's hardly in the position to pinch himself to see if it is a dream.
England stops his sucking and travels further down to nuzzle his shoulder. A moment later America yelps as England bites him hard. Nope, definitely not a dream. "Ow! That really hurt! What did you do that for?"
Giving America a smirk England hovers over him, green eyes oddly intense in the dim light. "So everyone will know you are mine."
America's cheeks flush. "Wh-what? Y-yours? Just who do you think-"
"You are very poor at following commands Alfred." England silences his protest with another kiss, sucking on his lower lip until it feels bruised. When he pulls away he gives America a reprimanding look. "Now hush up poppet."
America gives a grunt of displeasure but is silent otherwise. Satisfied, England goes back to work. This time he lavishes America's collar bones with his tongue, occasionally nipping them. Trailing kisses down his torso he pauses to nuzzle America's stomach.
America suddenly realizes both his hands are free. He stares at one of them blankly. Dizzy... he feels dizzy. Another sharp pain as England bites his hip. America hisses. Does he have to be so damn rough? Overall it's not bad though. He flexes his fingers, concentrates on making the digits move in his blurry vision. A soft gasp escapes him as yet another bite is placed on the tender skin of his inner thigh.
When had his pants come off? Damn it, what are the things he is allowed to say? He isn't supposed to beg him to stop... can he ask him to quit biting or else get punched? Alfred does not like biting and he never has. "H-hey... touch me."
America holds his breath as England leans up, licking the side of his mouth. "Excuse me?"
Dear god those words have never sounded so menacing. "Uh...p-please? Won't you please touch me instead?"
America defiantly meets his gaze as England tries to stare him down. Granted he does look about a thousand times more scary than usual but he won't let England push him around too much no matter what the year is. After a moment England's gaze changes. It is more curious than irritated. "...It has been a long time since I have met someone who can stare back and not flinch."
"Well there you go. I'm like a... a starin' machine! Yeah..." America gives him a cocky grin that mostly looks droopy.
England begins to remove his own shirt, contemplating the man beneath him. "You are not afraid of me."
It seems odd to be seeing England in this way. Sure he's seen him without a shirt on, but never in this intimate of a scenario. "Hmm... Nah, why should I be?"
He bites back a giggle. It dies trapped in his mouth as England fixes him in the most intense look of his life. "I think we will have to fix that."
Bowing his head down, England takes America into his mouth without the slightest warning, just past the head. America moans at the unexpected contact. "Sh-shurprise attack two."
He closes his eyes and worries his already sore lip as England begins to suck and lick on him as if he is a tea time snack, gradually taking him in more and more. Ah... why is England so damned good with his mouth? What a slut. He might be disappointed if he actually cared that much. Mostly it is a bit shocking.
Just when all seems right with the world—a great alcohol buzz going, a place to sleep for the night, and a warm mouth around Florida—the tables quickly turn. There is suddenly a very menacing scrape of teeth along his length, ever so light. It is still enough to make the blood in his veins freeze. "N-no, oh no. You wouldn't!"
England's weight rests heavily on his legs, hands firmly pinning down his hips so he can't squirm or buck. Another feather-light graze of teeth. And another wave of very real worry goes through America. "H-hey... Hey! Don't bite me down there!"
The action is repeated. Is it just him or does it seem a bit harder this time? "Don't you dare you sadistic bastard!"
America reaches down and grabs England's hair but isn't quite brave enough to try pulling it. That might earn a bite for sure. "A-Arthur, come on! Please! I-I promise I'll shut up and do anything you want just don't do that! I'm begging you!"
England hums around America, sending a conflicting signal of pleasure to mingle along those of panic. Finally he pulls away, grinning like the devil himself. "Whatever is the matter Alfred? What would put the idea in your head that I would bite you? It would be a shame to hurt it before I have had my fun eh? I suppose I will make a compromise with you. Watch your mouth and I will be sure to watch my teeth."
Nodding like a puppet on a string, America accepts with tears in his eyes. It definitely isn't worth fighting with him if it means risking one of the best parts of his anatomy.
England reaches up and strokes his cheek. "Now no need for such a frightened expression on that lovely face of yours."
He begins to run his hands soothingly along America's body, greedily mapping it out. After a while he adds his mouth again but there are no more bites. Whenever he wants to make a claim he sucks harshly until there is a bright red hickey. When he pulls back to admire his handy work he is quite pleased that Alfred is so thoroughly marked as his possession. Absolutely breathtaking.
America lets out soft, satisfied sounds, careful to mind his mouth. He is still a bit sleepy though. If not for his body being so aroused he might fall asleep. The ache for more contact sends dull waves through him and every so often he tries to press up against England for any kind of friction. He has thoroughly neglected that part of America's body ever since the dangerous tease blow job. But every time he does push against him England holds his body away, denying him any relief. The guy really has one hell of a cruel streak.
Finally England determines it is time to move on. Usually he never spends so much time on this sort of thing but this lad is the prettiest he has been with in a long time. Prettier than most of the women he's been with lately, too. His body is wonderful, his skin flawless for the most part minus some scars for flavor. It really is a shame that the illusion is broken when he speaks.
"Roll over Alfred, and if you are not too terribly drunk try to get on your hands and knees."
America squints up at England. He has gotten so comfortable lying there complacently. He doesn't really feel like moving. England raises an eyebrow and it is all the warning he needs. With a soft grunt he turns his body over and struggles onto his knees. He feels like his arms will simply give out any moment and he doesn't like the precarious sensation.
He turns his head to look over his shoulder as England is removing his pants and admiring the view. "Better not jusht shove it in there or I swear to god... I'mma... do somethin'." His body tilts and he quickly rights himself. "Got it?"
"There is that talking thing again. Dreadful. And what sort of something will you do?" England runs a hand along his back, more amused than anything.
America can't think properly. "Um... you have... no idea. But you'll totally regret it. Yeah..."
That sounds threatening right?
Snorting with amusement, England lets his hand trail down and rests it on America's ass, giving it a squeeze. "I am quivering in fear."
As America is trying to glower over his shoulder and not really succeeding, England begins to suck on two of his fingers. He places them at America's entrance and starts to rub lightly. America's face flushes. "Very well, I can be a generous man. But I will expect something for it later."
All but smirking, England sticks both fingers in at once. America grunts and hisses, clutching at the blanket beneath him. Shit this hurts! What a jerk. England stretches him mercilessly, not a hint of gentleness in his actions.
'Generous man my ass,' America grumbles internally. It suddenly strikes him as funny and he has to bite back a drunken snort of laughter. Who knows what awful thing England will do if he disobeys him now.
After a while it becomes more tolerable much to America's relief. At least he's gotten him to do this much. From England's earlier comment it sounds like he probably would have just gone full on and then America would have had to choke a bitch, ridiculously drunk or not.
"I do hope this is enough for you, it is all you will get." England removes his fingers. The relief is short-lived as they are quickly replaced by England who is bigger than the digits. America gasps and winces. Even with prep it is not exactly a picnic.
Pausing for a moment England rubs America's hips, watching as he pants heavily. "Mmm you do make such a pretty sight. And you feel very good."
"Y-you shound... like a... knave." That is what that one guy had called him before he stole his clothes and he had sort of been wanting to use it.
"Peace be quiet! Or have I not asked you enough times?" To emphasize his displeasure England pulls out and thrusts back in roughly.
America grunts and bites his lip then whines obnoxiously, "A-Arthur..."
"Well what do you know, he can listen to commands when he wants to. Care for more?" England begins to rock his hips creating a burning friction.
America clutches the sheets again. This doesn't exactly hurt but it is definitely uncomfortable. He closes his eyes and tries to relax and keep his balance even as his body begins to rock with the force of England's thrusts. Harder than it sounds.
England's hands begin wandering around his body. Across America's stomach, along his thighs, teasingly over his cock. America shivers and moans loudly, his arms giving out. Elbows will have to do, he can't keep it up anymore. Ooh and it is good, it is so good once the initial discomfort ends. It is suddenly quite easy to follow England's commands as he moans and cries out. From time to time America clumsily pushes back though it tends to only succeed in messing up England's rhythm.
He gasps sharply as England brushes against his sweet spot. "Please, nnnn please there. Arthur there!"
Chuckling softly, England leans down so he is flush against America's back and licks the shell of his ear. "Enjoying yourself poppet?"
America moans in response. Yes, he's enjoying this way more than he should be. This is England... England who is so unlike his England. England who is deliciously controlling, possessive, demanding. England who fucks America until his knees are tired and his body is burning with pleasure. England who takes and takes until America has nothing left to give. Such a greedy lover. And America enjoys every second of it, even begs for more.
On top of being greedy he is a sadistic lover. England teases him to the verge of climax then does something to hold it back. Teeth restricted, he bites into America with his nails then soothes with tongue and lips. Delicious, his pretty little Alfred is wonderfully delicious and so responsive. By the end of the night he will have laid full claim on this body and then some.
To America it feels like it goes on forever, his body screaming for release. Not to mention he's so completely exhausted it's a miracle he can support himself anymore. But England just keeps going for his own enjoyment and seems perfectly content to continue on as such. America turns his head and speaks. "Arthur... p-please. I want..."
"Oh but it is not about what you want at all, is it Alfred?" America can hear the purr of satisfaction and the smirk ass look on England's face in the words. "But do tell me and I might consider it."
If not for the fact that America is dying for release he might give England a good smack for that one as well as a sharp word or two. "Mm... Let me- ...Please let me finish already!"
A thoughtful sound is made, disgustingly false and mocking. Oh England is such a bastard! If he says no, America is totally gonna rape him even if it is uncoordinated as all hell. No one has ever teased him so hard in his life. Usually he would never allow it.
As if sensing his mutinous thoughts England finally slides his hand along America's cock. "I suppose as you have mostly behaved yourself after a rough start and have held up so wonderfully despite being intoxicated I shall grant your request."
America loudly moans to show his appreciation as England begins to jerk his hand in time with his very deliberate thrusts. Oh yes this is exactly what he needs. He rubs his face against the bed, breathing harshly as he groans and mutters England's name.
Hot... America feels so incredibly hot. Everything begins to build and he is lost in it as he focuses on that feeling of release. He wants it so bad now he can hardly stand it. And thank all that is good and decent in the world, for when it reaches the point where he is at the edge England does not stop him cold this time. This time he is allowed to fall over that edge freely, coming harder than he has in a long time. If he were more sober he might be a bit embarrassed at the shameless cry he lets out as his body shakes with the aftershock of his orgasm.
Grinning smugly, England continues to press into America at the same reckless pace. He has never left a leman of his unsatisfied and Alfred is hardly an exception. With a grunt he finishes, closing his eyes with satisfaction as pleasure shoots through his body. This lad is proving to be a very pleasant bedmate.
The two of them do not move at first. Actually America does not really move at all. He is completely drained and his body does not want to move a single muscle. England finally pulls out and slumps down next to him.
"Well Alfred, I give you permission to have your words back. Did you enjoy yourself?"
America snorts. What a pompous asshole. He almost wants to tell England he is totally terrible in bed but he can't quite manage such a blatant lie. In fact he can't muster the energy to say much of anything. "Mmmhmm."
England reaches over and strokes his back. "Hm, what a shame. It seems you will not be able to stay awake any longer. And I had just started to play with you. I suppose the rest will have to wait."
Wait? Is he planning on having sex with him again or something? Just a second. Did he say he had just started? What the hell kind of monster is England exactly? Seriously! Damn, he can't even imagine going another round after that. In fact his eyes are barely staying open. "Mm."
He can't deny one thing, he is completely content, like being wrapped in a warm cocoon of total physical bliss. Fingers slide through his hair. It is the last thing he is aware of before he falls into a very deep sleep.
Elizabethan terms:
Peace be quiet! - A general saying of the time. Pengland is using it as an equivalent of stfu here.
Leman – lover, mistress (I particularly like this term considering England's 'marriage' to Queen Elizabeth hehe~)
AN: Oh Pengland you cheeky man you, all obsessed with claiming everything in sight~ I love writing him as a total asshole. And did you know the word intoxicated came into use before the word inebriated? Oh the little touches are what count -laughs-