Alright, so the theme of this is War of 1812 and it is SMUT!! Yeah, I had to change the rating to M, so if you don't read that, well... don't know what to tell you. This is my first time writing smut, so it's probably horrible. Don't hold it against me. And tell me what you think!

England watched the scene before him with a familiar rush he hadn't felt in a long time. The flames floated on the water, flickering and dancing on the mirrored surface that was occasionally broken by pieced of floating wood. All of it was his doing.

It was common knowledge that England had the best navy in the world. His many years as a pirate nation had left him with an extremely advantageous set of skills and though it had been many years since he had fully exercised his learned ability, certain things were never forgotten. Sure England seemed like a rather pitiable country with his constant tsundere attitude and tendency to blush too easily, but at sea, there was nothing that could surpass him. The water was his ultimate home and America was a fool to think he could challenge him.

"Freedom of the seas?" Arthur muttered to himself as he surveyed the wreckage with a small smirk. "Try again when you're stronger." It had been a while since he let this side of himself slip out and there was a certain thrill whenever the morally incorrect part of him took over. Still smug from his success, England turned away from the flames and carelessly sauntered across the deck to were his prisoners were lined up, kneeling on the wooden floor with their hand tied behind their backs. A British runaway, an African American, and a Native American.

He chuckled softly and stepped toward the British citizen, tapping the man under the chin to force him to look up at the green-eyed man. "Did you really think you could run away?" he asked. The runaway shuddered, seeing the predatorily gleam, and quickly looked away.

"Are you scared?" England cooed. "You should have known better than to betray me."

The captured man simply remained silent, either because he was too afraid to speak or he had a foolish mindset that he would be able to hold up to Britain. England had a sneaking suspicion that it was the former, but before he could do much more, one of his deck crew shouted, loud and urgent.

"MAN OVERBOARD!" Instantly, every man on deck rushed to see who was causing such a commotion save England and his three captives.

The blond country tsk-ed his disapproval at the rash actions of his crew and quickly snapped his fingers, a sharp sound that everyone heeded. "Pull him up, you twats," he said, "or do I have to do it myself?" There was a moment of pause before his men snapped into action, orders being shouted and items being passed. In a matter of minutes, they were heaving an unconscious man onto the ship.

When England first saw the shock of golden hair appear, he felt himself freeze. He could recognize those silky strands anywhere. "Is he still breathing?" Arthur asked as soon as his naval officers dumped the body onto the deck. His former attitude had disappeared and though he tried to hide it, worry still creased his obnoxiously thick brows. One of his officer medics confirmed the body was still alive.

The Briton rushed toward the unconscious man and knelt next to him, taking his head in his hands. "Oi! Wake up you bloody fool!" He slapped America's cheek a few times until the larger country started coughing, water spilling from his mouth. England looked up at the officers surrounding him and said, "I'll take him to my quarters." If any of them thought it was strange, they did not show it.

"What do you want us to do with the captives?" one of his admirals asked as England slung America's arm over his soldier and started standing up.

"Take them to the brig," UK answered distractedly and the blue-eyed country's hulking form swayed dangerously to the right, "I'll deal with them later." With a curt nod to the admiral, he started his descent toward his quarters, dragging the semi-conscious country along. "What the hell have you been eating?" Arthur muttered, red-faced from exertion. "You weigh a bloody ton." America just moaned in his ear in response, still too dazed to comprehend what was going on.

"Ar-Arthur?" he stuttered weakly, trying to find his feet under him. This threw both of them off balance and England stumbled franticly to avoid a head first trip down a flight of stairs.

"You're a damn fool, that's what you are," the island hissed, annoyed that he was feeling such worry for the country that betrayed him, "What were you thinking, wanting freedom? If you can't even withstand a measly attack like this, then you clearly shouldn't be out by yourself. This is pathetic."

"You're pathetic," America snapped back, a sudden surge of anger pulsing through him. "This war shouldn't even involve me. I have nothing to gain and nothing to lose. This is about you and France, so why must I choose a side?" Just in time, they arrived at England's cabin and America pushed away, staggering and leaning against the wall in order to remain standing. "Stop attacking my ships, Arthur," he said, pushing strands of wet blond hair out of his eyes. He wasn't wearing his glasses, so the deep blue color was sharper than usual, cold and angry as they attempted to focus on the smaller nation.

"Then join me against France."

"Absolutely not!"

"You are insufferable!"

"And are you any better?" America asked, a flush coloring his too pale features. "Centuries! It's been centuries and all the two of you know how to do is bicker! You suck up the ones around you into this unending quarrel leaving them battered and yourself no worse for the wear! I, for one, am not going to be a part of it."

"And if I give you no choice?" Green eyes flashed dangerously as England approached the larger nation, his black boots meeting the wooden floorboards with uncharacteristically loud thumps. Once the pirate side had appeared, Arthur had always found it hard to hide it away again and currently, it was rearing its ugly head, sensing a challenge.

A small smirk appeared on the American's lips even in his weakened state. "Are you threatening me?"

"Would I ever do some thing so ungentlemanly?"

"You were a pirate once, weren't you?"

England chuckled threateningly, "Then you should realize I have ways of making people do what I want."

"And you should realize that I'm not just anyone," America said, glaring cockily at the older nation.

"No, but you did use to be mine." And suddenly, England had America pressed against the cabin's wooden wall, his lips pressed hard against the taller nation's, his hands rough as they pinned Alfred's wrists against the wall. "I think it's about time I reminded you of that fact," he murmured against the closed, unresponsive mouth. Moving away from the passive lips, he started kissing his way down America's jawline, nipping and licking at the wet flesh of his neck. And as stoic as the large nation was trying to be, he couldn't stop the slight quickening of his breath nor the urge to moan as England found a weak spot just above his collarbone and worked on it, sucking and biting the pale skin until it reddened before soothing over the area with a slow swirl of his tongue.

Hearing the strangled sound trying to escape from America's tightly closed mouth, the Briton pulled back, a smirk on his own lips. "Are you going to pretend that you're not enjoy this?" he whispered, his usually spring green eyes several shades darker as they bore into blue ones that were not completely absent of the lust.

"What's there to enjoy?" the American asked hoarsely, trying to ignore the fact that the hungry way England was looking at him was making him hard. "You're rather bad at this."

The British country glanced down, then back up with a raised brow. "That's not what your body's saying," he murmured, purposely rubbing against the younger's clothed erection. America was unable to hold back a low groan as his hips instinctively thrust forward, searching for more friction. "I think," England said huskily, leaning up until lips ghosting over the shell of the blond's ear, "that you're rather bad at lying."

"No worse than you," America growled, before turning his head to meet the smaller's lips in a rough kiss, coaxing a soft moan from the Briton. With that sound, the balance shifted abruptly and the larger nation ripped his hands from England's grasp. Surprised, England moved to pull away only to the younger switch their positions, slamming the smaller body into the wall, their lips still connected. A small breath of air escaped from Arthur from the impact and Alfred immediately took advantage, slipping his tongue into the other's mouth. For a moment, a battle of dominance ensued as England tried to regain the upper hand he had earlier, but was all in vain as the American quickly overpowered him, his mouth much more skillful than England expected.

The idea that America had done this before flitted suddenly into his mind and the Briton felt an unexpected pang of jealousy which was quickly forgotten when Alfred stripped him of his heavy military jacket and expertly rolled his hips. The friction was almost unbearable and they broke apart, pleasured moans leaving both their lips.

"Damn you," England breathed, trying to catch his breath. America just smirked, turning his attention to the smooth skin of the Briton's neck and chest, kissing and licking at every new area of flesh that was revealed as Alfred's deft, skillful fingers made quick work of the buttons on England's shirt. Soon he was on his knees, his tongue swirling in the Briton's navel, sending tremors through the smaller body. Whimpering, England threaded his hand into America's hair and just as the larger country was about to work his way back up again, Arthur abruptly yanked the blond head back and pushed it down until Alfred was at eye level with his hardened member straining against the fabric of his pants.

"You caused it, you take care of it," the Britain panted, his expression daring America to defy him. There a slight pause and Arthur was afraid that the American wouldn't do it, but Alfred only chuckled and leaned forward, slowly scraped his teeth over the clothed bulge, causing the small man to squeeze his eyes shut and throw his head back, hitting his head against the wall as a result of the sudden wave of pleasure. "Oh…" Arthur shakily breathed out.

"Patience, Arthur," America said, his voice dangerously low as he unbuckled England's belt, "is a virtue you have yet to master." Then, with a flick of his wrists, he pulled down the restricting fabric and undergarment, letting it pool to the Briton's feet. "I only hope you have more stamina than you do patience," he murmured cheekily before taking England's weeping member into his hand and squeezing, eliciting a moan from the older man.

"Just shut up already."

America looked up, taking in the Briton's flushed face, and winked cockily. "As you please," he said, amusement bleeding into his voice before he closed his mouth over England's hardened length, his tongue expertly stroking the member. Arthur literally sobbed as America started sucking lightly, the heat almost unbearable. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he bit down on his knuckle, not wanting to make too much noise. They were on a ship after all.

But his attempt was all in vain because when Alfred moaned lightly, his hand down his own pants, stroking himself, the vibrations made England nearly loose it, his hips instinctively thrust forward into the hot cavern of America's mouth. Instantly, the younger nation had a bruising grip on Arthur's hips, forcing him still and the Briton groaned impatiently. Almost like he read his mind, Alfred smirked and relaxed his gag reflexes until the entire length was in his mouth, the tip bumping against the back of his throat.

England's breathing began to quicken even more as the sunshine blond started bobbing his head a bit, still sucking lightly. And just as the Briton looked down, deciding that the image of America deep-throating him was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen, America's teeth grazed over his shaft causing he came hard, screaming Alfred's name.

"Fuck…" was all he could say, his chest heaving and his legs trembling in an attempt to hold himself up. Still looking down, he watched as America pulled away and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. Then, with an ever smug expression, he swallowed all the cum in his mouth, making sure England saw the way his adam's apple moved up and down and the smaller nation could feel all his blood rushing southward once again.

"If that's what you want me to do," Alfred said, rising to his feet. He captured England's lips, tongue intruding once more and the older nation could taste himself in America's mouth, bitter yet enticing, along with an undertone of coffee and salt from the sea water he had swallowed. He quickly tugged America's semi-wet shirt up and they broke apart for a moment as he pulled it over the blond's head and disposed of it on the floor.

"This is going to hurt, you do realize that, right?" the younger nation breathed, littering England's jaw and neck with kisses.

"You think a bloody care right now?" the Briton asked, already getting hard again. His hands fumbled clumsily at the waistband of America's pants until the piece of clothing finally slipped off the slim waist. Undergarments followed soon after.

"You might later," the sunshine blond murmured. But before the Englishman could say anything snarky back, Alfred shoved his fingers into the Briton's mouth while simultaneously reaching down and stroking England's half-erect member, reviving it to its former glory. Understanding, Arthur hastily sucked on the digits, lathering them with saliva. America suppresses a moan at the ministrations and pulled his fingers away, eager to continue.

He plunged a finger into the older man, this time moaning aloud at the heat that surrounded the appendage while England winced at the intrusion. When it seemed that the Briton had gotten use to invasion, America added another finger and slowly scissor them apart. England gasped aloud as pain seemed to overwhelm his body, a long string of colorful curses leaving his mouth.

"Don't worry," Alfred whispered, kissing the older nation, "It'll get better." He added a third finger and started rubbing against the hot walls that surrounded his digits, searching for the sweet spot he knew he was near. When his hit it, it was evident by the keen wail that left England's mouth as the smaller nation slammed downward, trying to get the fingers to stroke him at the right place again.

"See? I told you." With that, America pulled his fingers out and hooked England's legs around his waist before he plunged himself into the smaller body, immediately hitting the bundle of nerves. Arthur squeezed his eyes and breathy moans continued to leave his lips, both pain and pleasure assaulting his senses. He grabbed at America's broad shoulders, nails digging into broad shoulders until they almost drew blood, his back still pressed against the wall.

Alfred shuddered, feeling the heat engulf him and it took all of his self control not to instantly start pounding into the Briton. But when England opened his eyes, glaring at him with lusty emerald eyes, and literally snarled, "Move!", American abandoned all his restraints and started pounding mercilessly into the smaller body, hitting the same sweet spot every time.

"Damn you, you big brute," Arthur gasped as he reached down and started stroking his neglected member. "Faster!"

America heeded these words, his pace quickening, his own breathing rough and tainted with moans. And all it took was one, two, three before England came long and hard, head thrown back, a scream ripping his throat. Hot muscles clamped down on Alfred and it only took a few more thrusts until he followed, an explosion of white appearing before his eyes.

"Oh god," Arthur panted, once he got down from his high. America could only nod in agreement as he pulled himself out and untangled the Briton's legs from his waist. They were shaking so badly that they could barely hold the Englishman up. Luckily, Alfred caught him before he fell over and gently lowered both of them to the ground until they were sitting side by side, chest heaving in an attempt to take in enough air.

"I think…" America said in between breaths, "…you should know…that you…just got…royally…fucked."

"Fuck you."

So, thoughts? I was going to make England dominant because he was in Pirate!England mode, but somehow, America just came up and turned the whole thing around. Poor England. The only person he can ever dominate is Japan. Haha