PRINCESS

by anivet

England is no longer the man he used to be. He's depressed, hateful, and cold. He begins to distance himself from the entire world, even to the point of hurting others so he himself will be spared of the trauma of love. America has taken up the job of bringing Arthur out of his spiraling depression, but how can he fix the man when he doesn't know how to be the hero he needs?

3. Chapter 2

It was a strange place. The wind was blowing but Arthur couldn't feel it. He could SEE the branches and leaves brushing against each other, but no rustling was heard; his clothes were flapping gently, but they remained silent. Even the sound of his breathing was non-existent.

His eyes travelled above him. He was standing in a luxurious gazebo, beautiful and stunning, watching with fascination as the sun rose surfaced from the east and began to rise quickly through the starry sky, the moon from the west. They met for a brief moment at the top of the tiny world Arthur had encased himself within, and he watched as they too deserted each other; setting quietly as they traded positions.

England stared in wonder at the strange sight. Beautiful roses began to slither and grow around him, coating the gazebo with its beautiful vibrant red and green colors. The petals brushed against his skin like silk and he sighed happily, looking onwards as stars fell from the heavens of his imagination.

Thunder tore through the sky, yet no rain fell. The sound was there, quiet and gentle, and he could FEEL the cool air brush over his flesh making him feel warm despite the temperature. Arthur let his eyes slide shut for a few moments, taking in the feeling of contentment and warmth that only this surreal world could give him.

How he wished he could remain here for the rest of his life; to bask in the overwhelming relief that only came in the form of merciful dreams, where even the cruellest of atrocities couldn't reach him. Then a thought occurred to him; who's to say he couldn't? Why SHOULDN'T he be allowed to enjoy himself and live a peaceful, tranquil life here after over a thousand years of pain and regret?

What was wrong with creating the perfect world and living in it? Nothing at all...right? He deserved to have a bit of selfishness, didn't he? Yes. Yes, he did. He deserved much more than he was given. But then again, everything he HAD been given was ruined. More importantly, everything he had been given grew to hate him.

Arthur recoiled from the thought, twitching slightly and pulling away from his hold on the rail of the gazebo. When he opened his eyes, before him was a small forming ocean, stretching out from the sand in the distance and reaching out past the eyes ability to see under the gray clouds that hung over his world. Once again the feeling of fulfilment flowed through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to go and explore the beach; to roam the ocean that was his and his alone.

A sweet fragrance filled the air around him, and he searched across the yard for a moment before he spotted a beautiful garden flourishing around a magnificent fountain. Fairies and pixies gathered and danced over the wonder and sang happily. To him, there were just glittering spheres of light, but he knew what there were. If he truly wanted to, he could see their true forms, but he decided it would be best to savor this moment of everlasting beauty whilst he still could. Behind him his mansion was glowing warmly, awaiting his arrival at its steps. He smiled sadly as he realized this house was much more inviting than his own home had ever been in the real world.

Arthur gazed down at the roses that had intertwined with the gazebo and gently raked a finger over it. How nice it was here, if only he could stay. Wait... why couldn't he...? He struggled to remember, feeling a wave of confusion and curiosity wheedle its way into his gut. He had reasons, right? He had to, he had a life before this one, he was sure of it. He couldn't exactly remember what, but it was cold and dark and lonely. The world around him begged for him not to remember, to stay, to remain here with them and live happily.

He wanted to, oh GOD how he wanted to. It would be so easy to just give up and let go, but he couldn't... why not?

He didn't know.

Arthur clenched his teeth and balled his fists in his hair as he tried to remember. The world seemed to shift angrily at his attempts, but still he didn't stop. There had to be SOMETHING for him besides this world, didn't there? The waves rose and crashed angrily; the fairies screeched wildly and the roses begun to wither and die at his betrayal, thorns bristling and slicing at his flesh. The mansion grew dark and collapsed, falling apart much like the garden before him. The gazebo groaned and trembled. Arthur gasped as the lines wrapped around him and tried to pull him through the floorboards and to the earth. Don't leave, it screamed, we need you!

The wind howled feverishly, whipping the trees and plants to and fro. The fountain rumbled and exploded, water erupting from the shattered remains and thudding onto the ground loudly. England was in shock. His beautiful world was begging, BEGGING for him to stay, to remain happy instead of pushing him away, he had a place where he belonged where he was loved and wanted. NEEDED.

He considered saying yes, opening his mouth and telling the world that he WOULD remain there, happy and content, but there was that nagging feeling, one he couldn't ignore, that his past life was reaching out to him. He wanted to recoil. He knew that place was a hateful, evil place, but he still stared above his world and stared up at the dark clouds of his past life. He couldn't go back there... that place didn't want him, but he couldn't let go. Something was pulling at him, making his world scream and cry for him to stay, to say yes and remain there for all of timeless eternity.

Above him, the dark clouds were being forced apart, and a giant hand reached down for him. Arthur gaped as he stared through the skylight as the fingers closed over the only shelter he had, the palm casting a dark shadow as it ripped off the roof of the gazebo with ease. He wanted to shrink down, to vanish and hide further within the thorny clutches of the roses, but the hand had wrapped itself around his body, not even hesitating as its fingers curled around the thorns and began to pull him to the sky, uprooting the roses and ripping them apart as he ascended.

Arthur screamed and struggled in vain as he was pulled up to the black clouds overhead. He didn't want to go back there; it was dark and lonely, and it was painful. He felt tears stream down his face as he watched his world grow smaller and smaller, wailing for him to come back. The fingers were strangely warm from being from a place so cold, but that didn't mean he wanted to be in their embrace.

The Nirvana he had been a part of was screaming up to him as his vision became obscured with the smoggy clouds. Come back, we'll wait for you, it sobbed. We'll always be here Arthur, we'll always be the place that you'll truly belong! Nobody loves you up there, remember that! NOBODY!

Arthur could feel the tears stream down his face and drip onto the finger of the giant hand that encased him within its grasp. The tears burned away at the skin like acid, but it didn't pull away. Instead, a voice whispered to him: it's okay, I'll protect you this time, I won't let you go again.

England shuddered at the voice that surrounded him. It was so soft, so warm and sweet, sultry and seductive, yet caring and firm. His struggles seemed to fade a bit, but the faint whispers of his dissolving land blew in his ears. Nobody will ever love you, Arthur, we're all you have, everyone is out to hurt you; remember Francis? Nobody loves you... nobody.

The wetness remained on Arthur's cheeks, even after Alfred tried in vain to wipe them away. The Englishman let out a weak sob. It was so small and broken that it made Alfred grit his teeth. What in the world could have made Arthur like this?

The Brit trembled weakly under him palm. He was so thin and worn, he must not have eaten in days... Alfred couldn't go through with it. He had been given a direct order - by not only HIS boss, but England's as well - to have sex with the island nation beside him. But Arthur was so frail at the moment, surely he couldn't bend him over and fuck him on the bed like he normally would be forced to do, not this time.

Arthur gave a strange whimpering sound as he pushed at Alfred's chest in his half conscious state. He wanted that warmth to disappear, it wasn't for him; it would never be for him. The American held fast, clutching the squirming body to his chest. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'll protect you this time, I won't let you go again..." He slid his fingers lightly through the feathery hair and pressed Arthur's face into his chest gently. "I swear."

He knew this depressive state had to have something to do with him - for pushing him away and revolting, for not keeping as close a tie as he should of all of the years after - but he couldn't help that now. Arthur was here in his arms, fighting a darkness only he could see and Alfred was going to protect him this time. He was going to save him, not because he was a hero, but because he wanted to protect the only person in the world who had ever truly loved him for him besides his own brother.

England's eyes fully opened and he got a good eye full of a bare American chest. He frowned deeply, a grimace setting on his features as he realized that Alfred was cuddling him to his chest like a lover.

"Let go."

"What?" Alfred looked down at the brooding face beneath him. "Aren't you cold?"

"No, you git," he growled, "In fact, your stupid body heat is making me sweat, now let go."

America released him from his hold and shuffled back a bit, giving him the space he wanted. He made a mental note to take things slowly. Arthur's recovery wasn't going to be an easy road, he was very... easily angered and it was only getting worse as the days passed.

Arthur seemed to have noticed that their only source of clothing was a pair of boxers on both of them. "I would have assumed that you and I actually fulfilled our assignment last night, but seeing as how we both have our undergarments on and you being... well, YOU, we haven't."

Alfred shook his head. "You know I don't like sleeping with drunks. I don't need to feel like I'm taking advantage of someone."

"But you wouldn't be." Arthur tossed in casually. "It was what we were supposed to do. You wouldn't have taken advantage of anyone."

"Yes, I would have. I could have done whatever I wanted to a man who doesn't know how to say no to anything sexual while intoxicated." Arthur scoffed and rolled his eye's, flopping down onto the pillow in exasperation.

"But you wouldn't." He pressed.

"I didn't." Alfred stared at the man across from him. Bags were noticeable, even though he had just awoken from a long night's sleep.

"So when are we going to do this?" Arthur asked. "I'm half ready to just fuck myself on you just so I can leave this godforsaken country of yours." Alfred didn't look amused at Arthur's words at all. In fact, he looked annoyed.

"We're not."

Arthur blinked before turning his head to gaze over at Alfred. "What do you mean? You have a mission to do, you know Obama won't be pleased if you don't go through with it. He's already having a hard time proving himself, and the only thing he's really got going for him are these 'good relations' with other countries."

"Hah, tell that to North Korea, the bastard."

"Hm," Arthur nodded at the truth of his words. North Korea WAS threatening to bomb him at the moment...

"And besides," Alfred continued, "as much as I appreciate the President trying to help me 'get some', I really don't want any from you." Arthur stared at him dumbly for a moment.

"What...?" He slowly let those words sink in. And as they did, so did the anger. "What do you mean by that?!" He yelled indignantly.

"Exactly what I said," America replied, looking him square in the eye. "I don't want to have sex with you."

"Why the bloody hell not?!" Arthur demanded. Alfred just shook his head as he looked at Arthur.

"I just don't find sick people sexually attractive."

"I'm not sick!"

"You call being depressed and on the verge of suicide NOT SICK?!" America asked. "England, you've been pushin' others away, you've been pushin' ME AWAY! You've disowned every country out there and've practically shunned every friend you've ever had!"

"That doesn't mean I'm depressive, you TWAT!"

"Then what do you call it?!"

"SPLENDID ISOLATION!"

"Ohhh, NO." America grit out. "You are NOT pulling that anti-social shit out on me again! You're just using that piece of crap excuse as a reason not to be around people anymore. Well, as the hero I won't allow it!"

"And what exactly are you going to do about it, Alfred?" England challenged. "Last time I checked, you couldn't even keep terrorists out of your own country, you fatass!"

Alfred jerked in surprise. "W-what...why would you even bring that up-WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH THIS?!"

"Nothing really, but neither does the fact that you couldn't even keep yourself together during a simple civil war." Arthur smiled smugly, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the hurt and betrayed look on the American's face. Alfred looked down, his face hidden behind his bangs as he took in a few deep, shuddering breaths.

"I'm not like him, you know. You can't push me away by hurting me like you did with Francis." Arthur jerked in surprise at Alfred's sudden ability to read deeply into others actions. The blond looked up and met Arthur's green eyes with determination. "I'll keep stickin' around. Even if you don't want me to, I'll always stay by ya and make sure you get your happily ever after." He said defiantly.

Arthur stared at him silently for a few moments, his dull eyes staring incisively at Alfred's serious exterior. "You're an idiot." Arthur laughed darkly, "Do you SERIOUSLY believe in such a thing as happy endings? You're more stupid than I thought." Alfred bolted off of the bed and stood over the nation, staring him down with dissipointed eyes. Arthur just gazed lazily back up at him.

"No, what's stupid is that YOU'VE given up! It's not stupid to try and work for a better future! That's all anyone can really do! If you give up, what the hell is the point?! I thought you were better then this, just giving UP?! That's not the England I know."

"Well maybe I'm TIRED of being England!" Alfred froze. So there it was. His confirmation. Alfred's blood ran cold inside of his veins as he listened to Arthur's words. "I'm TIRED of trying! I've tried for over a thousand years! I'm DONE hoping. I'm DONE WISHING FOR A BETTER LIFE THAT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN!"

"So you just... give up? You have nothing-NOTHING worth fighting for?"

America's voice was quiet and sullen. His blue eyes staring intently at the Brit. "Nothing."

"Not even me?"

"No."

Alfred nodded. He's seen that coming, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. "So we're not worth it, not worth you living, even to spend time with us?"

England fell silent for a moment, staring at Alfred just as hard bitterness. Seconds dragged by as if they were being pulled through cement Or something similar. Then he opened his mouth. "Not even a moment of my time."

"How the hell can you say that?!" America demanded, his composure breaking like thin ice. "Are you really that SICK?! How can you NOT see that we need you here?! That we LOVE you?! All of us! Francis, Matthew, Kiku- ME!" Alfred was beginning to shake, his hands clenching into fists. "We CARE about you! If you disappear, all of us will be crushed… the whole WORLD will be crushed! Your boss is freakin' out, your QUEEN is TERRIFIED that you'll fade away! We NEED you Arthur!"

"That's not what you said in 1776. In fact, I remember you saying the exact opposite."

"Then was different, I-...I needed to leave."

"WHY?!"

"BECAUSE I COULDN'T STAND BEING NEAR YOU ANYMORE!"

Silence filled the room. Heavy, dark silence. Arthur had the expression of a loathing, abandoned old man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone to die. Alfred's mouth was hanging open slightly after his sudden angry outburst. His breathing was slightly heavy and his eyes flashed with a recognition of what he had just said.

"Arthur I-"

"You don't need me. You never did. Even when you were a child, you were already stronger then me, and stronger than the world." Arthur stared directly into Alfred's eyes as he spoke. "You don't need me and neither does the world." He broke eye contact with the struggling American before him who was looking for any way to patch the hole he had just ripped between them. England began to rise from the bed, his eyes searching the room around them. Alfred stepped back, his mind racing but drawing up nothing as he searched for a solution. "I'm leaving. Where are my clothes?"

Alfred's mind raced back to him all at once. He quickly looked to Arthur, no longer feeling lost as he spoke. "No, you're not. I got a text from your queen this morning and had a chat with her and your Prime Minister. You're to stay with me until you get out of your depression and fix all of your broken relations with other countries."

Arthur quickly turned on him, his face mere inches from the one staring down at him with great disapproval. "WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! YOU CAN'T JUST GO AND DISCUSS MY RIGHTS WITH MY BOSSES!"

"Why not?" Alfred questioned staring down upon the shorter male. "You did it to me when I was younger."

"THAT WAS DIFFERENT! YOU NEEDED TO BE KEPT SAFE!"

"And the same applies to you, too." Alfred pointed out. "You can't just go out and do what you want anymore. As of this morning, America is in charge of taking care and supporting the UK's suddenly failing political standings. I've been given the permission to do whatever I want with you, as long as I get the needed results."

"What, do you want to shag me or keep me prisoner?" Arthur hissed out. "I won't stand for this, I'm the bloody United KINGDOM! AN INSOLENT WHELP LIKE YOU STANDS NO CHANCE OF KEEPING ME LOCKED UP! DO YOU HEAR ME-" Arthur fell silent at the soft look on America's face. It was one of relief, exasperation, joy, admiration and even... Arthur mentally stopped himself from finishing that thought.

"I've missed you so much." He whispered, clutching the confused Brit to his body. Arthur was befuddled. How could the boy miss him if he was right there in his arms? He saw him more than anybody else these days. Alfred buried his face into the crook of Arthur's neck as he mumbled out, "You have no idea how good it is to see you actually BELIEVE in yourself. To FIGHT for yourself instead of just rolling over and giving up." He nuzzled his face into the warm flesh of the other, breathing deeply. "I've missed you, I've missed you, I've missed you. I don't want you to disappear, Arthur, I miss this, the FIRE you have... I miss it... don't give it up," he whispered before choking out, "PLEASE." Arthur felt his chest squeezing tightly, uncomfortably as Alfred's hot breath shuddered in his ear. "You have so much to live for."

England let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and felt like he needed to sit down or he would collapse. Alfred seemed to notice the other beginning to go limp in his arms because he gently laid him on the bed as he climbed atop of him. The American straddled Arthur easily; no resistance was met. There really wasn't any to be given. Arthur knew Alfred was sexually attracted to him - many people were - but he trusted Alfred to take care of his body like a god. He WAS here on a mission, anyway. To bed Alfred and keep up good terms between their people. America seemed to have forgotten about not being turned on by sickly people, because he was looking at Arthur with the usual eyes he did (with the same eyes that he always did) when they slept together. Full of caring and determination to please him.

"And by that do you mean sex?" The question threw Alfred off for a second. His eyes flickered between their almost naked bodies, and he gave him a mischievous smirk.

"No, but that IS a bonus."

"Tch, typical." Arthur scoffed. "You still have a teenager's libido."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Alfred asked, placing his palms flat over the vast expanse of Arthur's bare chest. "It means I can keep going and going when I need to."

"Yes, but that also includes being easily aroused." Arthur frowned at the other. "I don't understand you at all. One moment you're trying to convince me to live and the next you're feeling me up." Alfred blushed gently, his sweet smile caressing his lips as he avoided the other's gaze. "Besides," Arthur added, "I thought you weren't interested in 'sick' people."

"I'm not," Alfred insisted. "You're just that good. Besides," he whispered hotly, "I never DID get to fuck you last night, and you seem to need the pick me up after all this drama."

Arthur frowned up at him, but he couldn't deny that the boy wasn't (was) a smooth talker. He WAS feeling very uptight and in need of a good shag. The last time he'd had one had been with Francis four weeks ago, and he hadn't even got to finish. He hadn't even been in the mood to pleasure himself over the long period of time before or after that incident.

"Do you honestly expect me to just roll over and take it when you went behind my back like you did?"

"Well... no, but that's half the fun." Alfred smirked as he nipped gently at the skin on Arthur's collarbone. "I wouldn't like it if you just laid there and took it. I like a bit of spice in my life, ya'know."

Arthur scoffed at that. "Oh yes," he said. "Let us never forget that night in San Diego." Alfred hummed in agreement as he licked up the other's neck and to his ear. That night had been one of the most amazing and intense one night stands either of them had ever had.

"Never." Arthur's toes curled as Alfred's fingers danced over his hardening cock. "Tell me Arthur, when was the last time you slept with me - with ANYBODY?"

Arthur didn't know; it had been a while. That one night with Francis would have been the first in over who knows how many months. Hell, it could have even been years for all he knew. But with Alfred..."Its been at least since 2010."

"2003, Arthur. It's been ten years. Ten fuckin' years..." Arthur pulled away, completely breaking the connection between the two. No... it couldn't have been that long... he had to be over exaggerating. There had to have been some other nights afterward, right? But how come he couldn't remember?

"Ten years...?" He asked quietly. He was in a daze. How could he go so long without having been with this man? It didn't seem possible. Not at all.

"Yeah, babe. It was when we went to that memorial party for the..."

"The second year anniversary of nine-eleven..." He filled in.

"Yeah..." Alfred nodded sadly, he looked away, glancing off into the distance, memories of burning buildings and jumping people plaguing his mind. Arthur wanted to just grab the boy and hold him; whisper that it will be all right, to fuck all his worries away like he did the night ten years ago.

They had been at the dinner party. Everyone was giving America their condolences and wishing him a better future, and all the boy seemed to want to do was leave, to run away. He didn't want to be there. His citizens were on edge, all crowding around him, fearing another attack and feeling the need to protect their land. His friends were giving him weak comfort, and even his own brother was fussing over him like a mother bear. Protective and alert. He just wanted to forget. But he couldn't. 'Never Forget'. That was the slogan. Well it worked. He never did forget, and it haunted his dreams and every waking moment he had.

Arthur had been able to drag him away from Matthew for a moment and pulled him into a storeroom. It had a dusty table and junk piled everywhere, but that didn't deter Arthur. He still managed to get the American to open up and let go. To let himself be dominated, to let himself forget. He felt guilty for doing it, for being allowed to forget for a moment while his people were in the other room crying and grieving, but he needed it. And so when Arthur pressed in, he let him do as he pleased, and he hadn't felt so at peace in two years. But afterwards was different. He pushed Arthur away when he was done. Guilt flooding his very being, and he asked for Arthur to leave him and join the party. They hadn't slept together since, and it was such a shame because both really enjoyed whatever the other proposed in the bedroom.

"Alfred... this time is different." Arthur whispered. He didn't know why he was comforting the other, but he was.

"Is it?" America questioned. "Because it feels the same."

"How so?"

"It just is." He didn't want to explain it, but it really was the same. Both wanting to forget and to live in a moment that existed only between them. For him depending and needing Arthur so much he felt as if his very life would end if Arthur said no. Only thing was, Arthur seemed to need this more than Alfred, and that was saying something because he thought he was going to explode if this didn't happen.

Arthur didn't seem to like the answer he was given but he held his tongue. He just laid back and allowed Alfred to distract himself with peppering kisses up and down Arthur's flat stomach. "You need to eat more," Alfred mumbled into his skin. "You're too thin."

"To what, end up looking like you?" Arthur retorted. "No thanks, I'd rather die than look like a fatass pig." It was a lie, of course. America was anything but fat. He had beautiful, toned muscles that ran all over his body, and his abs were no exception. They were perfect and developed. It made sense seeing how much time he spent in the gym trying to get rid of his non-existent fat.

Alfred growled in annoyance at this comment on his weight and nipped at the rim of his belly button in revenge. Arthur gasped and tried to jerk away from the sensation. Alfred smirked at Arthur's scowl, licking and dipping his tongue in the hole, teasing him for what was coming in a few minutes.

As much as Arthur enjoyed foreplay, it had been far too long for him to be able to go on without being touched at all. It was driving him insane. "Will you just get to it already?!"

"But I thought you weren't just going to roll over and take it?"

"I'm NOT going to roll over, I'm going to sit just like this." He stated matter of factly. "And YOU'RE going to GIVE it to me before I rip it OFF." Alfred laughed at his threat, but began to slide further down the bed to give himself and Arthur some space before he could prepare the other. He noticed how large Arthur's bulge had gotten in just a few short moments, and he couldn't help but smirk. It was too easy to tease him to hardness no matter how much Arthur denied it.

He gently palmed the other through the thin material of his Union Jack Boxers and continued to kiss and caress the other's belly and chest. He latched onto a dusty nipple and sucked as he swirled his tongue around the nub, doing the same to the tip of Arthur's dick with his hands. The island nation whimpered and trembled under the other's naturally skilled hands.

England rutted up against the other's hand, wanting more friction than the teasing, light traces of fingertips dancing over the head of his cock. He wanted Alfred to stop dawdling and just fuck him already, but still, Alfred continued to lap away at his chest. His switched to the other, and as he did his hands roamed further down his front until he was cupping Arthur's balls between his fingers. Said man let out a shocked gasp, making an embarrassing choking noise when he felt the warm fingers caress the sacs and massage them deeply as he suckled on his male breast.

"Oh, bloody hell... Alfred, please, I need you to hurry, I can't take it anymore!" He was beginning to panic. He didn't want to just cum after only having his nipples and balls played with. That would be rather pathetic. But Alfred was so amazing with his mouth... he didn't seem to register the fact that he had an oral fixation and was completely blind to it. That worked just fine for England. Because secretly, it was thrilling to see the boy shove all kinds of things into his mouth and look utterly fetching while doing it. Usually, it was obscured and disgusting when he did it with food, but when it came to Popsicle's, ice cream, and any other sweet treat, he would suck and lick it for as long as he could, drawing many eyes to himself without any actual intentions of doing so.

Alfred released the tortured nipple with a loud smacking noise and looked up to England with waiting eyes, ready to do whatever he asked for, aiming to please the Brit. "Would you... ah... give me head?" Alfred didn't even say anything, he just gave him a small, knowing smile before lowering his face and dragging his tongue from Arthur's collarbone to his boxer line. He kissed and nibbled the flesh there as he lifted England's hips and helped him shimmy out of his last bit of clothing.

Alfred let his eyes soak up the sight of the hard flesh before him. He didn't notice his mouth was watering with excitement as he eyed the erection that was slightly twitching in anticipation. Arthur let his fingers gently ghost over Alfred's cheeks as he watched Alfred's excitement build up. He looked so thrilled to be having that dick go into his mouth. Alfred's eye's flickered up to meet his, asking if it was really okay. Arthur nodded and threw his head back as Alfred's mouth literally ATTACKED his cock with the heat and eagerness of that warm, wet cavern.

America's eyes fluttered shut in bliss as he sucked and licked at the member in his mouth. It was amazing; he didn't know why he enjoyed giving head so much, but he did. The feeling of having his mouth filled and occupied… it was indescribable. He was completely content with what he was doing. He began to run and dip his tongue into the slit of Arthur's cock, looking at the flesh like it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

"Who the hell taught you to be so lewd?" Arthur choked out. Alfred glanced up through thick eyelashes and blinked innocently. He closed them again and continued to bob his head, taking the other all the way into his throat. "OoH-! GOD!" He forgot how easily Alfred could push aside his gag reflex and take him in. He was by no means small, so it was always a shock when Alfred was acting like he was doing nothing more than sucking from a straw between his lips.

England allowed his fingers to twist into the other's hair, and rocked his hips forward. Alfred didn't stop him like others would. He was more than happy to let Arthur fuck his mouth at his own pace. He let his eyes drift close and just relished in the feeling of Arthur sliding in and out of his throat. Before long, Arthur could feel himself slipping, tumbling quickly down the path of release. He groaned in frustration as he pulled out. Alfred's eyes shot open and looked at him with a confused expression.

"What'd you do that for?" He asked, genuine disappointment evident in his voice. "Didn't I do good?" Arthur jerked at the tone of voice. He sounded like a child again, asking and begging for approval from everyone, just wanting to please and do a good job.

"Of course you did," he murmured. "Too good...I almost came." Alfred let out a breath of relief and smiled happily up at him. Arthur felt the corner of his lips twitch upwards against his will, but that quickly disappeared when he felt a wet, warm muscle prod at his entrance. He jumped and tried to jerk away, but Alfred had him trapped within the strength of his hands, keeping him in place by his thighs, forcing them open so he could get a clear path to his twitching ass.

America licked and dragged his tongue at the puckered hole, teasing and torturing the other. Arthur panted and moaned, his legs twitching in Alfred's hands as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle and into the body of the island nation.

The Brit shuddered as the talented muscle coated his insides with saliva and rubbed around curiously, ignoring the taste that was attacking his taste buds. It certainly didn't taste good, it tasted like, well, ass. But he wasn't focused on that. Alfred's attention was on the groans and moans coming from the man before him, and the fingers gliding and tangling themselves in his hair once more. He decided England had had enough teasing and gave one last, tentative lick to the quivering hole, before departing and sitting back up.

Arthur peered at him through half lidded eyes and shuddered. Alfred was always one to aim to please. He'd always been into regular, vanilla sex, but he knew to step it up a notch for the Brit, and it filled England with a sense of pride that Alfred would step out of his sexual comfort zone just for him.

America cleared his throat casually before looking England in the eyes. He was asking if he was really ready for this. It was a stupid question seeing as how he was as hard as a rock and full to the brim, practically ready to beg for release. But Alfred was always careful. Not only with him, but with anyone he'd ever slept with. He had this very fitting fear that he would hurt or damage someone during the throes of lovemaking. It was rational seeing as how he could lift an airplane with no effort at all if he wanted.

"I'm fine Alfred, just stretch me and get it over with."

"You sound like you're not thrilled about this." America pointed out dully.

"I'm not, but I am feeling rather pleased at the moment so don't ruin it with your idiocy."

"Gee thanks," Alfred muttered, obviously put down by Arthur's disposition. "I'll make sure to make it quick for you as well, your royal high-and-mightyness."

"Good." Arthur spat out. "And make sure you make it neat, not that sloppy shit you usually try to pull off."

"What?!"

"You heard me," Arthur peeked out from under one eye as Alfred stared down at him with disbelief. "You're sloppy." It was a lie, he was actually quite thorough for being so young, but Alfred didn't need to know that. He could use some humility and humbleness in his life, and Arthur was willing to teach him those things.

"Whatever, you're just jealous that I don't need to take Viagra to get it up like you do." Two could play at this game.

"Alfred, you know FULL well that I do not use any type of drugs for sex-" he was cut off as Alfred shoved a lubed finger in his ass. He must have done it while they were talking because he sure as hell didn't remember him being able to do it before then.

"What, can't you keep talking, or is it to hard to expel hot air when I'm fingering you?" Arthur glared in a warning for Alfred to shut up and he did, but the shit eating smile didn't fade from his lips. The Brit leaned back down onto the mattress and got as comfortable as he could while Alfred massaged his rectum, his fingers moving in a slow, efficient, and practiced way.

The warmth squeezing his digit was a major turn on and Alfred couldn't help but bite his lip in excitement. He had missed this body, this heat, this MAN. He hated what he had become. He wanted to just take Arthur and FUCK the depression out of him. They could try it, it seemed to pull the man out of his own world and back into their shared reality. He knew it wasn't plausible, or a very idealistic technique, but he was willing to do whatever it took to help Arthur.

Said man was in his own little world. He was enjoying the fingers slipping in and out of him smoothly, gently. At first it was awkward and uncomfortable - it always was - but soon they had fallen into a comfortable rhythm as he was stretched. When another finger joined the first he just sighed, relaxing contently into the twisted comforter. It was a bit damp, and was lumping in places under his bare back, but he was sinking into a calm state of mind. One he didn't want to be jarred from.

America took the opportunity to observe and look over Arthur, and to get in as much of his sight as he could before this ordeal would end. His pale skin glistened thanks to a thin coat of sweat that have been brought about by the blow job he had received earlier, and his pink lips were parted slightly to pant and moan to himself in a voice so quiet Alfred almost thought it was the whisper of the room's heater. He added another digit, making sure to spread them apart to make Arthur loose enough for him to enter without causing any pain to the Brit.

Arthur's hair was tousled and messy from having a restless sleep and drying while he was rubbing his face into a pillow. Alfred thought it was cute. He smiled to himself and forced himself to look away from the beautiful man before him to locate the bottle of lube he had brought with him. They had both known that they were going to sleep together this trip so he had taken the responsibility to buy the necessities, and he was glad he had because Arthur sure as hell didn't have any type of lubrication with him.

He slid his fingers out of the heat and almost whined, missing the feeling of the tight heat enclosing around his skin. He knew what was coming was going to feel more pleasurable than having just his fingers encased inside of the other, and it made his spine tingle with excitement. Arthur wiggled his hips a bit, silently ordering him to hurry and lather up, his emerald eyes glaring at him with frustrated sexual need.

Alfred indulged in his needs; after all, that was what he was here for - to care for Arthur's needs. Slowly, he began to tug at the elastic band around his boxers to pull them down. Arthur was watching closely. It had been ten years since he seen what the other looked like down there, and he was determined to make up for lost time.

When the fabric finally slid down his hips and off his cock Arthur's eyes widened. He forgot how BIG the boy was. He wasn't as large as Russia or Germany, but he was certainly well endowed. Alfred was blushing a bit. It was embarrassing to have someone just... STARE at his dick like England was. Arthur's mouth was slightly agape and his eyes were greedily soaking up the view. He began to lower himself back onto the bed and hide behind Arthur's legs but England grabbed his wrist.

"You've grown so big..." he whispered, his voice cracked a bit, sounding sad and hollow. "I had forgotten..."

America nodded. "Well... at least my mind did, my body's still the same though." Arthur shook his head quickly, as if trying to break out of the depressive trance he was falling back into.

"No, your mind is the thing that stayed the same. You're still an idiotic child at heart. Your BODY though..." his voice trailed off as he stared. "It's so much bigger than the small child I found hiding in the grass of that field."

Alfred avoided his gaze. It wasn't on his own face, it was quite pointedly on his lower regions. He was thoroughly uncomfortable now. "Well... yeah, I mean, doesn't everybody grow?"

"No... well... yes I suppose so, but some people remain the same forever."

"What?" America didn't understand and Arthur didn't explain. Alfred decided not to pry and picked up the discarded bottle of lube and spurted more than enough on his hand and began to stroke himself, making sure to coat it evenly over his member. He lined himself up and looked up at Arthur. This was it.

"Are you ready?" He asked quietly.

"... Yes." Arthur took a deep breath and tried to relax as Alfred made contact with his hole. "You know your boundaries," Arthur reminded. "Don't cross them." Alfred froze for a second before lowering his head and stated,

"Yeah, no kisses and no whispering any sweet nothings in your ears."

"And?" Arthur pressed.

"And no asking you to change those boundaries."

Arthur nodded, pleased. "Good." It was perfectly rehearsed and performed. Alfred would get to do whatever he pleased with a willing body, as long as he kept it completely about sex. No attachments.

America hated that. Arthur would just give himself over wholly and completely, yet he wouldn't hand over HIM. His HEART. It was locked up and hidden like a princess, guarded and protected by a harsh dragon, and he wanted to be the hero; the knight in shining armor to go and save him. But you can't save someone who is unwilling to be saved, right?

No, they could, he just had to try was all. And this was the first step. He was going to save England - ARTHUR. He was HIS princess and he'd be damned if he just let him sit in that awful tower and rot.

Alfred pressed in finally, the head going in smoothly. He paused and let Arthur adjust for a moment. The Brit had let out a small pained groan. The beginning was usually painful; the slight sting of having such a big object inserted in the most private place in his body. It didn't FEEL private anymore - so many people have fucked him in his lifetime - but the concept still stood.

He shuddered. It was so rare to sleep with someone who was as considerate with him as Alfred was. The boy was so kind and thoughtful. Pausing when Arthur needed it, taking it slow and waiting for him to feel free of pain unlike others. Most would just slide in and start pounding away, but not the American. No, he would rub England's thighs affectionately, comforting him through the slight pain, encouraging the other, just... BEING there - actually BEING there and treating him like a PERSON when they fucked, not just a body with detached emotions. It made him want to clutch onto the other and moan out his name like a wanton slut, but he wouldn't do that. He would end up getting to attached, and being tied to someone who was bound to leave him was NOT an option.

America began to slowly slide in, pushing in only a few centimeters at a time. Soon, he was all the way in, tucked deeply in the heat of the older nation. He let out a choked panting noise, it was quiet and low but Arthur seemed to hear it. "I forgot how fucking HUGE you were, CHRIST!" He gasped. "I didn't think it was ever going to end..."

America chuckled. "You know you're just admitting I've got a fuckin' AWESOME dick, right?"

"You sound like Prussia," England scowled. "Shut up." As revenge, he clenched down as hard as he could and it sent Alfred reeling. How he could still be so fucking TIGHT after stretching was beyond the cowboy, but he didn't care. It felt too good.

"I forgot how much of a TIGHTASS you were," Alfred teased lightly, shifting his hips and picking up a slow, shallow rhythm. Arthur rolled his eyes and settled back into a sense of accommodating pleasure. It just felt so nice to have actual intercourse with someone who WASN'T breaking his rules. That meaning Francis. He was the only one who would try and break his rules and others didn't seem to be interested in having sex with him anymore, not with him being... sick. He was relieved that Alfred was the kind of person he was. He knew Alfred WANTED to break the rules, and probably would have, but he also wanted to be the hero and for Arthur's sake, played the part and kept a safe distance away, but still stayed close enough to let both of them enjoy the experience. Francis wasn't like that. He wanted to be in places he shouldn't be, but Arthur had taken care of that effectively.

Its better to hurt others than to be the one hurt. He believed that wholeheartedly. He had learned that lesson as a child and kept it true and dear to himself to this very day. Alfred, however, believed in the opposite. To help and protect others from harm instead of dealing it out, even if he was the one getting hurt in the process - just like now. Arthur could tell he was hurting him, but the boy stayed true to his job, and his mission to bring happiness to England's life. It was admirable, but stupid. Arthur was just going to pull him close, very close, than he was going to break him, making sure that even the hero understood happy endings weren't real. He was determined to prove this, and if it got the American to stay away from him, it would just be another bonus. He didn't need anybody, especially the one who was thrusting in and out of him, searching for his prostate to bring him pleasure.

Alfred was unaware of Arthur's cruel plot, hoping to just be everything Arthur needed at the moment and more. He was actually quite surprised that the Englishman was being so compliant. He didn't understand why the Brit gave up his fight so easily earlier, but that was okay. That was the past; he was going to prove to him that he was the hero, that he was all Arthur would ever want and desire, and if that didn't work, if he STILL didn't accept his feelings, that would be fine. He wasn't going to get his hopes up, the chances of that happening were remote at. Hell, the chances probably didn't even exist. But he would try, because that's what heroes did.

Arthur arched his back when shocking spikes of pleasure rolled up and down his spine. Ho, it was so good. "Ah, t-there," he moaned, "hit there again-oohhhh~" He feverishly rolled his hips back to meet Alfred's determined thrusts with gusto.

"Oh, geez," America choked out. The Brit was squeezing him so tight, so PERFECTLY, he couldn't help but moan out his name. "England, England, England... shit!" He leaned forward and latched himself gently onto the others neck, biting, licking and kissing softly, panting into the damp flesh with every thrust.

Arthur was trembling in need. Alfred was touching all the right places inside of him and he'd be damned if the boy didn't have a homing beacon for his prostate. He wasn't complaining, but that boy never missed. Each movement that the American made was precise and careful, making sure to do it JUST RIGHT. And England had to admit, it was bloody spectacular.

America pulled back a bit to stare at Arthur, and to get a good look of his flushed, pleasured face. Arthur wasn't comfortable with that. He squirmed and looked around awkwardly, trying to avoid the mesmerizing gaze that was focused on him. Alfred frowned a bit; he didn't like that Arthur was too embarrassed to look at him. "What are you ashamed about? You're breathtaking," he said softly, caressing the other's face with his fingertips, moving his face so it was forced to meet his look of utter adoration and affection.

Arthur hated it. He wanted to ruin that perfect smile, those shining blue eyes. He wanted the American to just leave; to fuck him like an animal, no feelings, then go away. He wanted nothing more, and almost anything less, but he needed orgasm more than he needed to breathe.

And although he hated it with all of his rational being, his broken heart fluttered faintly. Its harsh beating from the sex became an all new pace for a second until he got it under control. He looked at the American defiantly, his face not pleased with the sweet words being poured out to him. "You're breaking the rules, Alfred." He hissed in warning, his voice dark and seething. "Don't look at me so intently, and stop whispering such foolish things to me. We are only supposed to fuck - nothing more - so get your act together. I'm not interested in this little PLAY of yours."

Alfred grew rigid for a moment. An act? A PLAY? He clenched his teeth together in anger. If Arthur was going to be like that, fine. He could play by his rules, but it wouldn't be fun for him. He could be rough, he could be careless.

... No, he couldn't. But he could act like that. So with a scornful expression to mask his hurt he snarled at the other, Arthur's emerald eyes going wide at the tone of his voice. "Fine, then shut the fuck up and turn over." Arthur tried to do so but apparently it wasn't fast enough for the American because he was roughly flipped onto his stomach and his ass pulled into the air.

Arthur's face was pressed into the mattress, and for a moment brief fear washed over him. The American was mad. He could feel the bone crushing grip on his side, and if the boy squeezed any harder his hips would surely shatter. Alfred took a deep breath, and with his final moment of resignation, he gave an inward thrust, ensuring it plunged into Arthur at full length.

Waves of painful release began for England, starting to wash over him from where the cowboy was hitting his prostate over and over again. The nerve endings across his whole body were now on fire, and Arthur could no longer control his own orgasm which was fierce and unbidden.

The American was now thrusting into him harder and faster than before, making Arthur's shaking arms buckle, forcing his face to once again meet with the cushioning pillows. His legs were becoming unsteady, and yet the American STILL had not cum. It soon became relentless and after sometime, painful. He wanted the American to stop but he had promised to be compliant.

Suddenly, Alfred cried out hoarsely, and England felt his powerful release shoot inside of him. He made to move away from the man, but Alfred held onto him and thrusted slow and hard into him twice more before England felt the last pulsing of America's orgasm.

America pulled himself out slowly, but then moved Arthur into a kneeling position before him. His hands held Arthur's shoulders . Both men were slick with sweat and continued to breathe hard from the aftermath of their sex session. England's arms and legs were trembling and he could feel Alfred's hands shake on his shoulders as well.

Arthur started to calm down now, the thick fog in his mind beginning to dissipate. What did not lift was his shame. He had been screwed thoroughly by his former charge and yet - worse still - he revelled in it. He hated this part of their sex the most. The memories, Alfred being his sweet brother, only to leave him alone and broken. And here he was, letting the one person he thought he could count on, the one who hurt him deepest, FUCK him raw into a hotel mattress.

There he was, kneeling in front of America, allowing the man to hold him in place like this. His self-loathing resurfaced and he felt his rage bubble. He wanted this man gone from this hotel room, but he knew he was powerless again. So he did what he always did when he felt small and pathetic. He lashed out.

"Well, America, what a shame there was nobody here to see how you screwed scrawny little England into the bed doggy-style like the brute you are. This must surely be the zenith of your achievement, is it not?"

Arthur heard the man draw in a breath sharply. America's hand darted from his shoulder and grasped England's mouth and chin in a painful cinch, and twisted his head towards him. England knew the man was furious. Perhaps his eyes would be as hurt as they were all those years before when England burned down his capital. Arthur's stomach lurched and he refused to look into the man's eyes by screwing his own shut.

The American's whisper became a hiss in his ear. "You have a filthy fuckin' mouth, ya' know that? What kind of gentleman ARE you? You drive me to this, offering yourself to me on a fucking PLATE, and NOW you want to degrade us both? I accepted your offer - God knows, I'm only a guy with a guy's needs and desires - and now you want to make it WORSE than that?! Do you want me just start calling you a bitch when I fuck you and be over with it? Would you enjoy that? Would it help you hate me more than you already do? Do you need this hatred so much, Arthur?" Alfred's mouth was still pressed to his ear. His angry breath became even, and he moved his away from Arthur.

He released his grip of England's mouth suddenly and gripped both of his shoulders tightly, uncomfortably. Then one hand raked through Arthur's hair before it curled into a fist. England wasn't sure if he was going to yank his hair, but he didn't. He also didn't release his hold of the strands as the other hand snaked around Arthur's shoulder and pulled him back into Alfred's chest firmly. His mouth moved to his ear again and he listened to the American's breathing, not sure what would happen next.

Unexpectedly, the mouth kissed his neck lightly and nuzzled the skin, smelling him. Without a doubt, England knew Alfred was taking in his scent, and it made Arthur's face burn. Alfred buried his face into the other's hair, and his face travelled over Arthur's head to the other side of his face where he bit gently into England's neck, causing him to gasp. None of this was expected and he started to feel panic rising in his chest. The American settled his mouth over his ear once more.

"You know, if I can't sleep with my lover, I usually like to sleep or walk around with the scent of them, so I don't bathe until the next morning if I don't need to. But today, I think I'm going to scrub myself so thoroughly that my skin'll turn pink all over," he hissed. Alfred then sighed.

Slowly again, he moved his head to whisper into Arthur's other ear. "You choose to treat me like an animal, England, but you're more of an animal than I am," his voice was still a whisper, but it was hoarse. "You want me. You hate me, but you want me. I know it." Arthur was devastated. A sharp tongue would never shield himself from this man's surprisingly keen people-reading skills. "I could fuck you right now if I wanted to, and you'd let me." Alfred let out a heavy sigh. "But Arthur, I won't do this your way again."

"You got your rocks off Alfred - don't you dare pretend you didn't enjoy it," Arthur croaked.

"It was functional," the boy breathed. "It was a release but that's all it was. It was soulless." Arthur felt his neck and face flush but he still would not look at the man.

"If degradation is what you want, England, you're gonna have'ta to go somewhere else to get it. It gives me no pleasure to hurt you like that."

There was a long pause where they listened to their hearts beating and their bodies breathing.

"It should've been - it could've been - so much more," the American whispered, his mouth still resting on England's ear, his breathing creating shooting thrills from Arthur's jaw, down his body and pooling deep, heavy desire in his groin. The nation knew that Arthur was becoming aroused again - even more than before - but Arthur did nothing. He would not draw attention to his treacherous body. His blood was pounding in his ears; he was fully hard again and his dick throbbed. Alfred had him in his trap - he was ensnared. He could feel the American's heartbeat against his back, his skin against his back, his thighs against his thighs, Alfred's strong, corded arms enveloping his body, his soft lips against his ear.

England had not thought it possible, but Alfred's voice became quieter still and low like a growl - it was now quite mesmerising. "I would have used all and any part of me to please you." He drew the island nation's earlobe into his mouth and nipped it gently before quickly releasing it. "My lips, my tongue, my fingers - all of it." He pressed his lips to the tendons in Arthur's neck. "I would have looked for all the ways to delight you, make your skin tingle and flame so you burst with desire and have to cry out because your body would DEMAND it." He traced his tongue firmly down Arthur's neck to his clavicle. "I would have held you close as a lover should, kissed you deeply, over and over, and..." he pushed Arthur's head to the side so he could feather the exposed neck with light kisses as one finger brushed the tip of England's cock making him gasp. "... looked into your eyes and watched you cum." A low moan escaped Arthur's throat.

Alfred released his hold on Arthur slowly and moved back from him. "I won't sleep with you again until you want what I have to give." Arthur remained naked and kneeling with his head bent forward, eyes closed and shielded by his hair. He listened to the whisper of clothing as Alfred dressed himself. He jumped a bit, startled, when the American draped his bomber jacket over his bare shoulders. The action shamed Arthur more completely as anything else the boy had said or done: the American needed to cover him from sight.

Alfred's quiet footsteps were the only noise in the room as he went on his way to Matt's room, where he planned to get a shower. The door closed and he was gone. And still, Arthur knelt there, stunned, shamed and, he also realized, sore. Sore from the cold and robust coupling, bruised hips, neck and face, and hurting in his soul. SOULLESS Alfred had called him.

He eventually stood. He should bathe, as it would ease the soreness, but found he was too tired. Shattered. He just wanted to lie down, to sleep, to forget. Did he want to forget? He realized as he lay on the bed that he wanted to sleep with the smell of the America- of sex with the American - still on his skin, just as the boy had said. He turned to the side, recalling what Alfred had told him he would do to his body and that he wanted to look into his eyes as he came. The same low moan escaped his throat, his head foggy, his stomach fuzzy, hot and full desire throbbed in his groin again, and he shivered as he imagined the phantom arms enveloping his chest and shoulders and hot breath playing in his ears and strong fingers ghosting in his hair.

The American was right. He did want him to do all those things and he hated him for that. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to hurt him, chase him away and break him down. Not end up wanting more than he was ever to have.

He swallowed loudly and let out a shaky breath. He wanted nothing more than for this torment to end, and for him to go back to his world. So in a sad and exhausted attempt, he tried to fall back asleep, and to visit the only place he could call home.

((UUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! OMIFUCKING GOD, FINALLY! I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOREVER, MY COMPUTER WOULD CONSTANTLY STOP WORKING AND IT SUCKSSSS! Well anyway, what's why it took so long. But here, I hope this long chapter of sex would make up for it , I have a game I wanna play! I used a fic as reference at the end because it fit so fucking perfectly, and the first person to guess what it is gets a free one shot request for me to write~ ^^ Let me know what you think, I love feedback, please let me know if you have any ideas or complaints, I always respond to my reviews when I can. I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but it will be out sometime this month or next two weeks. I have spring break coming next weekend, so I'll have more time to work on it. QWQ))