Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia... I wouldn't be writing fanfics now, would I?

Save a Horse, Ride a Gentleman

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"…Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam, where the deer and the antelope play; where seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day…" The rest of the tune the high voice was singing turned into a lively whistle shortly after the young man clicked his tongue. He tapped his spurs against the hard surface of his horse, pulling tightly on the reigns.

The scorching Montana sun was high over his head, spreading as far as his lands did; as far as his aqua eyes could see. The rolling rough terrain stretched out for miles and miles itself; not a single mountain nor city in sight. Just how he liked it. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the sudden outburst of modernization his country had reached; in fact, he couldn't be damn prouder to be an American! A free American.

"Come on, ol' Bess! Show your good ol' pal what ya' got! Yee-haw!"

This was what he lived for. To ride endlessly into the horizon; the crisp, dry wind going through his golden hair. Sand and dirt sticking to his lips as the hooves of his horse kicked up clouds of terracotta. Tumble weeds crossed his past as he zoomed by various cactuses; agitating the reigns, urging ol' Bess to run faster. Not a cloud in the sky to bring him down. A hawk flew overhead, screeching in its hunt for the day's supper. A lizard stood perched on the overly large boulders, turning its head as if to watch the young man gallop past.

He whooped and shouted, called out his horses name as he went faster; tasting it in his tongue. Tasting that precious freedom; tasting the stars and stripes; the red, white and blue. The United States of America.

The blonde reached for his rope once his ranch came into view and spotted several calves grazing about. It wouldn't have had bothered him, but it was the fact that he had company that made him decide to round them up. He wasn't expecting any visitors on that fine and sunny day; so what if they were robbers? Trying to steal his cows and horses and attempting to burn down his crops for spite? He would much rather be safe than sorry. And he'd obviously show off in the process.

He shouted and did strange animal-like noises; and it just a matter of moments, his cattle was neatly settled in the corral. Tugging on the reigns, Bess stood on her hind legs, neighing in soft protest and kicking her front ones in a rather impressive show. The blonde shouted out triumphantly, relishing the rush that ran though him as he did so. "Hyah!" He slowed his horse down to a gallop and turned towards his neat wooden house where a fancy-shmancy, black carriage awaited him; a pair of purebred horses at the helm.

Alfred jumped down and took his time tying up Bess to one of the posts before turning to check out the pricey horses. Strong and long legs, impeccable molars, flawless coat and mane. Massive beasts. Clearly not American. This made him curious.

"Alfred F. Jones?"

"The one and only." The blonde flashed a brilliant smile towards the man standing beside carriage before holding out his hand, exchanging a courtly handshake. "I swear on old Bess, I had nothing to do with the Sherriff's lil' ring-ding!" He proclaimed jokingly as he slapped his own hips, taking a deep breath and looking up at the blinding sun. "Nice weather we're having, eh? I bet them gold diggers should be getting loaded in California! And yet here I am, in my ol' rundown Montana ranch. I'm telling ya', it's better out in the country. I mean, look at these here pine trees! You don't get that in that coast, no sir-y!" He was rambling. And the only reason why he would ramble was because he was nervous. And right now, his nerves were on edge. Not because he had done anything wrong, but because of this man's accent. He clearly wasn't American, and the way he was dressed told Alfred that he was from a high class.

"Indeed there isn't, ol' chap. It's quite a change from the usual somber London afternoon." The stranger said politely, reassuring the American's thoughts. He was British…

"Now. What brings you here, my good man?"

"We are here on behalf of the Queen, America. She wishes to reestablish trade routes with your people; for the first time in decades."

Alfred felt his heart ram against his chest. Official business? The Queen would not send some messenger… some human… to take charge of such a thing; especially not with Jones himself. The blonde might have been oblivious to most of the things around him, but this he pinpointed immediately. "We? How many are you?"

"Just two, sir. I do apologize for not announcing our visit prior to the date. Allow me to introduce myself; I'm…--"

"He's here, isn't he?" The cowboy rudely interrupted the messenger, but the stranger seemed unfazed.

"Sir?"

"Engl…--" Suddenly, it was nearly impossible to say the name. A knot tightened in his throat as he looked anxiously towards the carriage. "A-Arthur. Arthur Kirkland?" He asked instead, wondering if the messenger knew their true selves. Well, he did address to him as America.

"Indeed I am, dear Alfred." The door to the carriage opened, and Alfred hungrily took in the form that ascended the small step onto the red Montana dirt. A slight bit shorter, but maybe he had just grown instead? Ash blonde hair had faded a shade; but other than that, he seemed just as flawless as he always was.

Clad in a black suit along with a long and trendy coat, cravat included. A pair of cotton gloves held on to an elegant walking stick, a large ring on his left hand. A rather modest top hat completed the look of an invincible British gentleman; and for some reason… it stole Alfred's breath away. But the flawless execution of manners was broken when the newcomer turned his back to the American boy, focusing his eyes instead on the towering mountains in the distance. The tension was nearly palpable, and neither of them spoke for a long while. It wasn't a social visit, and yet the Englishman hadn't the slightest idea of what to say. Better said, he did know what to say, he simply did not want to speak; out of fear that his voice would betray the sudden and overwhelming flow of unbidden nostalgia.

Alfred, on the other hand, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He nervously fidgeted with his hat as the heel of his boot drew circles in the ground. He wanted to see his face… Arthur's face. It had been so long, he had almost forgotten how it looked like. But he was so unsure. The last time they saw each it was a terrible parting; one that left England distraught. Maybe that was the reason why the older nation wouldn't look at him. "So… um… Would you two like to come inside? I can make you some tea, if you want."

"Why, that sounds delightful, Mr. Jones!" The messenger chirped, for the sake of breaking the charged silence. They walked up the short steps into the household, Arthur behind, looking solely at his feet as he did so.

Once inside, both Englishmen had been served their tea, but only the driver spoke with Alfred, since Arthur refused to do so. They kept it light; weather, news from London, the usual. They even exchanged some British jokes which Alfred didn't really understand, but he laughed for the sake of being polite. Moments later, the male rose to his feet and gave a polite bow. "Now, I best be off for the evening. I hope you two get matters done quickly and flawlessly."

"Wait. You're not… you're not staying?"

"Heaven's no. Her Majesty specifically stated that she wished for Sir Kirkland to make amends with you. I am simply his driver. Cheerio." With that, the man took a bow, and waltzed out the door. Leaving a flustered Alfred facing said door, unsure of what to do next.

Baby blue eyes stole a peek from their corner, and spotted the Englishman sitting on the animal-skin couch; legs crossed elegantly, top hat obscuring half his features, a permanent frown etched as he soundlessly sipped his tea. The American cleared his throat as he turned towards his guest, trying his best to sound serious.

"I-It's been a while, Arthur. Some one hundred years, I'd reckon?"

"Ninety-eight years and two months." The steely voice and appealing accent sounded cold as steel, enough to make the younger blonde flinch.

"Yeah, I guess. So, how have you been faring?"

"How do you think I have been faring? I lost my colonies, half my troops, became the laughing stalk of the French; I am no longer a threat to anyone. Since some rebellious child decided to throw a temper tantrum and make a fool out of me. And now here I am, starting anew. Thrown yet again in the midst of it all, since Queen Victoria wishes to reestablish commerce…--"

"That's why you're mad? Because you're no longer the most powerful thing out there?" That bothered Alfred. Deeply. Didn't England miss him even in the slightest?!

"Yes. Quite mad, in fact." Arthur still refused to look at him, and that hurt Alfred in so many ways. "Now, I would appreciate if we kept this visit businesslike and not dawdle on past…"

"I don't regret it."

"…"

"I don't regret becoming independent from you. The United States is a beautiful place. Not perfect, but no other nation is."

"Do you get some sort of satisfaction from boasting in my presence?"

"Let me finish, darn it! I wanted to say that I don't regret any of this… but I also wanted to say that… I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me, boy."

"Stop lying! I saw you crying in that battlefield. I know you loved me because I loved you too!"

The loud crash startled the younger blonde. The teacup fell from the Englishman's grasp, falling to the wooden floor and shattering into dozens of tiny pieces. The grimace in his features was fierce enough to almost bare his teeth. "Shut your yap! You've no idea what you are talking about!"

"Yeah, I do! And you still do. The Queen could have sent anyone else, and yet you came along? You wanted to see me."

"Nonsense! If you think I—"

"Look at me."

"…"

"Dammit, Arthur, look at me!"

And he did.

It was too much to take. That beauty that was uniquely Alfred's got to him, destroying his stubborn defenses. He was beautiful, young, strong and free. A dashing young man that he was sure was a knock out with the ladies. A hint of jealousy rose in his chest, but he squished it just as quickly as it came.

Alfred was overcome by old emotions. And just for a moment, when he saw the puffy redness of Arthur's eyes, all that he saw, was his big brother again. But he understood things could never be the same. They could never be brothers again. That didn't stop him though; didn't restrain him from running towards Arthur and pulling him into a crushing embrace, even against his protests.

Alfred held him for long moments; Arthur's face buried in his chest. The smell of dirt, sweat and pine tingled in his senses, making him nearly melt into the younger man. How repulsive… and yet… delicious. He pushed himself away and looked him over, more carefully this time. Golden hair was disheveled, for the hat had been pulled back and was now resting over his shoulder blades. The white shirt looked beige, due to the layers of dirt and grime on it. The hem of his chaps was torn, including the pants he wore underneath. A whip hung off the left side of his hip, a revolver on his right. His suspenders were pressed flushed against his chest, making the shirt stick like a second skin. There was dirt on his face and something white on the corner of his lip. Milk, perhaps?

The American noticed the sudden flush on his guest's cheeks and he couldn't help but smile. "What's the matter? Like what you see? I've grown up."

Emerald eyes held fast to Alfred's baby blues, in a very disapproving gesture. He sensed the seduction underneath the playfully mocking tone. It wasn't that he disliked it… It was just wrong. "We're like brothers."

"Not anymore."

"Alfred; you know I do not see you in that light… I'm not Francis."

America gave a knowing smile, a very mature one that made England falter. "Your pants tell me otherwise. But what can I say? I'm called 'America the Beautiful' for a reason."

"I don't think the people meant you in particular."

"Yeah, right." With a smirk, Alfred turned on his heels and mounted the stairs, gesturing England to follow. "I can assure you one thing. I'm quite sure you're curious to know what the phrase 'Save a horse, ride a cowboy' means in these parts, eh?"

Arthur couldn't help but roll his eyes at the poor innuendo. "I've a feeling this is going to be a long stay."

"I say, this is most inappropriate! A-Alfred! What the blazes are you doing?!"

"Relax, old man. I'll make sure you enjoy this."

"Bleeding hell; this isn't what I had in mind for a family reunion. How unorthodox."

"Hey, consider yourself lucky you're even getting a glimpse of this." Arthur refused to look at him, but the pink coloring on his cheeks was still there. "You ol' pervert."

"You have the audacity to call me perverted?! I am surely not the one sporting only a cowboy hat and a pair of chaps. Without the trousers underneath!"

"Come on! You know you like it. And, I'm no longer under-aged." Alfred declared in sing-song, flashing a promiscuous smirk and wink at the Englishman. Who was clearly outraged. But America didn't care in the slightest.

"Have you no decency?"

"Though… that's never stopped you before—"

"I beg your pardon?! I have never laid my hands on you!"

"Relax, ol' man! I was only pulling your leg. … Doesn't mean you didn't want to…"

"Alfred—!" The yell was muffled by deliciously invading lips. America made quick in order to straddle England's lap, comfortably fitting into the chair and grounding their hips together without further ado. "B-Bloody—" The blonde mutter after surfacing for a bit of air, biting back an unwanted groan.

"You talk too much. Shut up and let me do my job."

"Whoring yourself?"

Alfred gasped over-exaggeratedly. "How dare you! And no; I mean, reestablishing trade routes with the United Kingdom."

"Oh how far will these poor innuendos go?"

"Until you finally decide to shut up and do me."

Before England could protest, America's smooth lips brushed against his again, keeping it strictly lips for the time being. Arthur was being reluctant; not pushing him away, but he was also not returning the kiss. He simply sat there as stoic as ever. With a sigh against his former keeper's lips, the young nation pressed his body closer, his naked chest chaffing against the elegant and pricey fabrics of Arthur's suit. A hand snaked up and flicked the top hat off playfully, earning himself a glare and him not caring about it. The same hand threaded through the dull yellow hair, feeling, savoring and remembering the smooth silkiness of it from his childhood days.

But he was not a child anymore. He was no longer his little brother. And Arthur Kirkland still needed to come to terms with that. That love and adoration Alfred felt towards his caretaker was still there, but it had evolved into something else completely. Even before the revolution. But now, he wasn't bound by a taboo. Now, he was free. Free to do as he pleased. And that, he planned to do. "Why not just give in to temptation? Whatever happened to the man who took what he wanted when he wanted?"

"Those days are past, boy."

Alfred flinched both at the name and the bitterness in the other's voice. "Don't call me that. I'm all grown up now. I mean, have you seen this country? My lands; the wonders that have been discovered when we began expanding towards the west? We're just as prominent as you, England. Close enough to surpass you in every way possible. You're right; your golden days have passed. Time for me to shine. Besides, you're not even supposed to be here. So unless you want your ass kicked out of my country and back to Europe, I'd be quiet and take what is willingly given."

Emerald eyes gazed in silent shock. Never had he heard his– no, not his, never had he heard Alfred speak in such a manner. So eloquent and dignified with an actual cause. No childish banter or whining. In fact, to Arthur's eternal dismay, he sounded a lot like him. Boasting so arrogantly over his nation. "You are right. You are no longer the child I raised…" With resigned eyes, Arthur leaned up slightly, catching the younger blonde off guard when he slammed their lips together a tad bit roughly. Alfred did not complain when the older man prodded boldly with his tongue, not asking, but demanding entrance right that instant; he obliged. Without hesitation, England invaded America's mouth, tasting, roaming, swiping and nipping playfully. The cowboy pulled away shortly after, desperate for air.

"Damn."

"But you're going to have to handle me like a man. Once I begin, I don't intend to stop. No matter how much you beg."

"Wow. Was this how you inflicted fear upon your enemies? No wonder you controlled the entire world." The statement was said jokingly, but England caught the falter in his voice. He was having second thoughts about the bedding situation.

"I'm not trying to be the least bit intimidating. This is how I seduced them."

"…"

"Is it working?"

"Fuck yeah." Another kiss followed soon after Alfred rasped the words. Desperate, hot and needy. "Would you like to… um, move to the bed?"

"Not at all. Here is perfectly fine. Slightly more erotic than a boring old bed, wouldn't you agree?"

"How un-gentleman-like of you."

"Everyone has a darker side. Let's just say I never really disposed fully of my attitude from the pirating days. I might be pliant as a lamb, but I'll snap you in half if under the correct circumstances."

Alfred gulped visibly, perspiration starting to form on his brow; yet his smug smirk never faltered. "Oh, now you're bluffing, ol' man."

"Bluffing? Ha! Not at all, love. Not at all. However, considering the fact that this must be your first time, since you're doing a horrid job at trying to seduce me, I'll go easy on you." England smirked when he earned himself a glare for his comment. "Struck a nerve, perhaps?"

"You know," The younger blonde shoved at the Englishman's shoulder. "You should really shove that cravat where your mouth is!"

Gliding the tip of his tongue across his moist lips, Arthur leaned into Alfred's ear and ran said tongue along the lobe, stopping to nip at the soft flesh there provocatively. "I can think of something else to shove in my mouth, eh." The groan that soared passed the thin lips made tiny little knots of pleasure form in Arthur's stomach.

"Do you ever plan on shutting up?"

"My apologies. Carry on." And so he did.

Alfred reached for the buttons on Arthur's coat, but said man stopped him. "Just stop will ya'?!"

"It stays on. My trousers might be removed, but nothing else." The Briton stated simply as he ran his fingers across the exposed skin of Alfred's chest. With a frustrated sigh, the American carried on. If it weren't for the fact that he was hard as hell, he would have already stopped all advances. England was being difficult, as always, but instead of proving to be a turn off, it made even more fire knot below his waistline.

Alfred then resorted to press short kisses across the other's neck, making sure his lips were well moistened in order to leave a small trail of his saliva behind. Just for the hell of it. He licked playfully behind the Englishman's ear before moving to bite it softly and lastly to blow in it. Murmuring crude obscenities, he ground his hips, knowing and drawing out the tight reactions from his former brother and soon to be lover. The one hand that was not gripping England's shoulder was softly caressing the Briton's face, almost tenderly. Relishing the gentle touches of his childhood; swiping the stray strands away from those gorgeous eyes.

Even though he was enjoying the ministrations thoroughly enough, the old need to conquer was gnawing away at his resolve. He wanted more than anything to pin the American down and ravish him in the crudest way possible… Who was stopping him? Since there was no need to undress the cowboy, Arthur mimicked his actions. He kissed, licked and nipped the area of the chest. Open mouthed, moist and craving for so much more. The Briton closed his lips over a specific spot of flesh and began to suck, just above the right nipple. The reaction was beautiful. Alfred nearly thrashed in his arms, blushing up to his ears at the overwhelming sensation; his breath shaky. England repeated the action, but this time, on the actual nipple and the reaction he got was nearly enough to make him orgasm. Nearly. He then decided that that would be his objective for the evening. Make America scream for more. Be it his name, or those luscious and sinful little sounds he made.

"N-No fair… I don't even have skin to torture…" Alfred stuttered as Arthur continued to blissfully torture his other nipple. Said nation only chuckled.

"This was your idea." Emerald eyes examined the body before him, visibly pleased with his little assignment. There wasn't a space which he had left unmarked. "Beautiful."

"Pervert."

"And you like it." England proved his point by looking down between them, and there it was. Making his mouth water and eyes gleam with devilish delight. America suddenly wished he had indeed worn pants, since his penis was embarrassingly erect, painfully engorged and weeping freely; the head an angry red, shinning with a sheen of pre-cum that taunted Arthur terribly. Temptation won at last as his fingertips flicked the tip, his index finger pressing against the slit and rubbing circles into it. The cotton fabric of his gloves chaffed against the overly sensitive skin, but it felt fucking awesome.

It all happened too quickly for Arthur's intoxicated mind to comprehend. Both his trousers and underwear were removed, leaving him beautifully nude from the waist down. He was still sitting on the chair, however, and Alfred was still straddling him with his arse up in the air, the American's fingers prodding the Englishman's lips. "Get 'em nice and wet now." He was more than willing to oblige.

Arthur caressed the digits with his tongue before pulling them into his mouth and sucking powerfully on them. He allowed himself to salivate excessively, soaking the long pale fingers generously to make the preparation easier. A hand came up to grip and massage the American's thigh before it began sliding up, nearly brushing against his scrotum. England stopped the wandering though; he loved being a tease. The displeased groan fueled his ego, especially when soft baby blues peered into darker emerald eyes, clouded with lust and need beyond explanation. It was just too beautiful and too overwhelming to handle.

Adult or not, America still had his boyish features. Soft cheeks still round with young teenaged youth, plump lips that were wonderfully kiss-swollen. England couldn't help but think that the boy was still too young to be doing this, but the boldness in his actions dictated otherwise. 'His arse should be so soft…' He shook his head, clearing it of the thought. But the thought had already been conjured, and it sent what little remaining blood he had straight down to his cock.

"You're dozing off." America interrupted his train of thought when he felt the suction waver for a few moments. He was a little desperate now, and England was taking his sweet-ass time. "Hurry up before I get soft."

"No need to hurry, lad. I'll make sure to keep you needy of me." Arthur reassured him through the digits still in his mouth as he reached down to give himself a brief stroke. Scraping his teeth lightly against the wet skin, he began to suck again, hard enough to make his cheeks cave in. If it where any other time, America would have laughed, but his mind was too hazed to care. It was then that he wished he had made Arthur suck him off. If it felt wonderful on his fingers, he could just imagine how it would have felt on his hot prick.

Arthur slid his hand across the dry leather of Alfred's chaps, relishing the contrast of hard fabric and smooth skin and dug in his fingertips a bit harshly. The same hand roamed up and behind the covered thighs before reaching more skin, the one belonging to his backside. Smirking awkwardly, he squeezed a butt cheek before pulling up his other hand and taking hold of the other. Alfred's gasps were delicious, his moans even more as Arthur massaged the two cheeks individually; groping, squeezing, grabbing them roughly and pulling them apart before squishing them together again… The blush in the younger's cheeks darkened as he began to pant, pushing his fingers deeper into England's mouth as retribution before pulling them out. Enough teasing. "D-Do that again…"

"Hm?"

"What you used did. Do it again." His breath hitched as his cheeks darkened, if such a thing was possible.

"I have no idea what you mean." England feigned ignorance as he cocked his head to the side, fighting the evil little smirk that threatened to form. Alfred only murmured what he meant. "Excuse me?"

With an exasperated sigh, Alfred nearly shouted. "Spread me!" How kinky of him. Arthur did as requested, grabbing a firm hold of both cheeks and pulling them apart as the American reached back to prepare himself. A wet digit circled the tight ring, teasing himself, before slowly pushing in and gasping at the invading sensation. He stood still for a moment, before proceeding to push further in, wincing as he did so. So much for getting England on the receiving end.

Said nation continued to grope the soft, round cheeks, humming delightedly. So terribly soft and cushiony… A groan made him blink back to reality. The young blonde had apparently made a fabulous discovery while inspecting his tight depths, and he now repeatedly struck his prostrate with more than just one finger. Scissoring, prodding in and sliding out, groaning out explicit nothings that only England could hear. Leaning in, they brushed their lips together in a chaste kiss, and America dropped his cowboy hat onto his former caretaker's head. "How thoughtful of you."

"Hey, you look swell with that, don't mind my saying."

The lad really had butchered the English language; but that was a conversation for another time. Rolling his eyes, he then asked, "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, captain."

"Splendid." England released a shuddering sigh as America began to lower himself onto his lap, but nothing happened. Green eyes were clamped shut, but after a few seconds of aimless fumbling he looked up at the younger blonde. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh, yeah, it's all fine."

"… What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? Trying to… well… get you in me." The boy kept on swiveling his hips, trying to get the other's member to rest over his opening in order to slide in. He needed to have both his hands free in order to toy with Arthur's nipples as he did so for some extra kink, but his inexperience was catching up on him. The situation was amusing, but after a few desperate moments and Alfred's frustrated puffs, Arthur finally decided to intervene.

Taking hold of his own cock, he steadied it, looking up at the young man firmly and gesturing him with his eyes to continue his task. Alfred nodded his thanks in embarrassment, but it quickly vanished as he began to lower himself onto the impressive organ waiting for him. However, his eagerness dissipated once the mushroom-tip broke into him and he stiffened on the spot. This was not what he was expecting. He pulled out again and clumsily attempted to angle himself the correct way, but the way Arthur was sitting so properly made it difficult. His hips were angled awkwardly, the organ was too large for him to take in so quickly, his knee kept slipping out of the edge of the chair and it all was taking a blow at his ego. The frustrated groan made England smile gently and he answered by pushing the boy off of him. "H-Hey!"

"Come along; let's lay on the bed."

"But I thought–"

"Hush." England removed his coat then, but refused to undress any further. He slid onto the warm bed, nestling his head on the lone pillow and shifting his body in order to become more comfortable. A few seconds later America came into his line of view again and crawled on top of him, straddling his stomach and taking his hat back. An impressive eyebrow was raised. "Most people remove articles of clothing before having each other."

"Thought you'd like it. Besides, a cowboy ain't a cowboy without one. It's a fashion statement." Arthur nearly snorted, but thought better of it. America did look ravishing with the brown leather vest he had managed to put on. In fact, this angle made America look like an Adonis. The way the perspiration glistened on his flawless skin, making the leather stick to him provocatively. The engorged cock standing and begging for attention at the front gap of his chaps; disheveled hair, crooked spectacles, kiss-swollen lips, perked nipples inviting to be bitten… America hadn't even touched him and a long, drawn out moan escaped the Englishman's lips. "That good?"

"Glorious."

With a chuckle, America attempted his prior goal again. This time, he made sure to grab a good hold of Arthur's erection and slowly eased himself down. He hissed at the initial penetration and stiffened up, the same searing pain from before shaking him to the core. Sitting or laying down, he knew this was going to be a difficult task. "Ah--!"

"Is something wrong?"

"Yeah… your prick is too damn big." Alfred bit out, making the older nation smirk smugly.

"As I said before, you are going to take it like a man."

"Oh, I ain't backing down, Artie. Rest assured." He was persistent, Arthur gave him that much. But he was too damn needy and depraved of release to handle waiting only God knew how long. The former Empire sat up then, nearly throwing the American off but he quickly caught him, smashing their chests together before placing a hand behind himself for balance. The action caused their erections to brush, making Alfred tremble in excitement and pleasure. "D-Damn…"

Gloved hands took a steady hold of the blonde's hips and he leaned up to kiss him briefly, before adjusting him on his lap. He might have been bigger than him and a slight bit more plump than he, but Alfred was still young and dashingly flexible, so his limbs were a tad bit easier to manipulate. He was brought down onto the organ again, the tip breaking through but he tensed immediately. "Don't; it'll only make it worse."

"I…It hurts…" And for a brief moment, America was that child again. The tremble in his voice, the insecurity and uncertainty in his eyes… England felt his heart clench painfully.

"We can stop…" The words were only whispered. He didn't want to stop, but if it was necessary, he would. He just couldn't hurt the boy.

"N-No! I'll… go down… s-slowly…" Alfred grabbed a hold of Arthur's shoulders and continued his decent at an agonizingly slow pace. Seconds stretched out into minutes, very long minutes, until he had finally managed to fully seat himself. His breath was ragged and slightly pained, his face contorted in discomfort. This was not fun at all. "I hope… that this here don't always feel… this way."

"It's all a matter of getting used to, love."

"Good. Can you… give me a few moments?"

Arthur chuckled endearingly into his ear. "As long as you need." Even though the words sounded too strained to be meant, but he held out anyways. As he waited though, he resumed to deliver kisses and licks across the expanse planes of America's damp chest. The cotton of the gloves chaffed and teased the nipples again, earning him a groan from the younger blonde who instinctively jerked his hips, causing him to groan even louder. England gasped when he was squeezed down on and had to summon all of his self control in order to not recklessly fuck America's virgin depths. But the stimulation finally served its purpose, and in a few minutes time, Alfred F. Jones was jumping like a jackrabbit on Arthur's lap. But that proved to be an entire different issue.

"A-Ame—Ameri---ngh… ah!" Every time America slid in, he slid right back out with too much force; forcing them to go through the penetration process all over again. Not that England was complaining, since the sensation was deliriously wonderful, but it was taking too much time and too much adjusting. It was impossible to thrust in three times in a row without having to grab hold of himself and search for America's entrance again. With a sigh, he grabbed a firm hold of the cowboy's hips once again, keeping him steadily seated as he attempted to catch his breath. This earned him a whine. "… Control yourself, lad."

"I-I can't! I want… more! So much more!"

England's mouth dried at that. "I understand, l-love. But listen to me. If you measure your movements steadily, you won't have to slip completely out."

A little dark chuckle made a thrill run down his spine. "But I like it how it feels when it tears through me."

"H-Heavens… Y-Yes, yes, it feels good indeed, but listen here. Why not change that sensation for the sensation of going faster?" Alfred lifted a thoughtful eyebrow. "And deeper… Trust me. It will blow your mind." Arthur purposefully slurred his accent and accented each point with a thrust of his hips, making Alfred moan out.

"Oh yes, yes! Do it, Arthur!" And he did. England slowly coached him through, measuring his thrusts and showing Alfred just how high he should go without entirely slipping off the cock. It might have been awkward for the both of them, embarrassing even, but it was one of the moments England was sure he'd treasure for the rest of his eternity. Shortly enough, Alfred caught on to the flow, rising and falling to a steady rhythm, ringing out the best of their pleasure and ecstasy.

Arthur panted openly as his hands randomly roamed across his lover's body, his hips arching up to meet Alfred's halfway. Still, he let himself fall back when the American pushed at his chest. "What is it?"

"Lay back. I can take it from here." The older obliged; his back was beginning to hurt anyway. Alfred smirked then, placing his hands on Arthur's stomach and quickening his pace now that he could. Moans and groans and ragged pants bounced off the wooden walls, along with the obscene sound of meat slapping against meat quickly and harshly. A wetter sound followed soon after, indicating not only the messy clash of lips and tongues, but the pre-cum that was slickening Alfred's inner depths and allowing Arthur to slide easier.

Enraptured in the breathless kissing, the former guardian did not notice when Alfred twined their fingers together and brought his hands to rest above his head. He still failed to notice something chaffing against his wrists as they were tightly bound together. The cowboy pulled a tad bit away then, but their lips still puckered in order to peck at each others' in the tiny distance. Alfred had intoxicated him to such an extent that he still didn't notice when something slide down his head and put pressure against the back of it. It was when Alfred finally pulled back that reality came crashing on him a bit too harshly.

Kirkland began to shout at the other's perverted audacity, but no sound came other than muffled shouts and enraged snarls that only made him salivate around the bit that had been so easily slid into his mouth. Alfred smirked devilishly as he leaned over to adjust the brittle a bit more so it wouldn't bite into Arthur's cheek so severely. With a laugh, he pulled on the reigns, making the older blonde's head jerk forward. Consider it revenge for all the injustice before the war.

However, shockingly enough, England looked as if he were enjoying every detail of it. Emerald eyes rolled back into his head as he moaned openly as best as he could without choking. It sent ridiculously sinful shivers down his spine, making his hairs stand on end as he blissfully enjoyed the feeling of being both incapacitated and dominated. "Hm, what's a cowboy without his trusty steed, eh, England?" He jerked the reigns in synch with his hips, making said nation's back lift completely off the bed.

Night had fallen long ago, and America had ridden himself through two blinding finishes and was now aiming for the third. England was nearly delirious as he had been milked dry twice as well, one load having been devoured by the American rather greedily. Groans were no longer in their vocabulary since now they resigned themselves to moan each others' names and practically scream to the top of their lungs with reckless abandon. Outrages obscenities slipped their lips as they continued to ram into each other at a near animalistic rate. England thrashed for one final completion, near the point of tears in wanting to touch the delectable skin on top of him; and America, ever so greedy, begged England to give him more. More of his sweat and screams, more of his delicious saliva and cum. More, more, more! So much more he wanted! It wasn't enough, and America feared that it would never be enough. England would always have something to give him, and he would always be there to consume it.

"A-Arthur! One… more… time--!" With a nod, he picked up his speed, if such a thing was even possible. He cupped his hand over his weeping cock as he continuously shouted random nothings accompanied by Arthur's name, and in just a few seconds, white exploded before his eyes. He collected what he could before throwing the hand in to the air, the other tightening and pulling on the reigns still attached to Arthur's head as he thrashed his hips around in the same motions as if he were bull riding, letting out a breathless but rowdy "Yeehaw!" followed by boisterous laughter.

That right there, Arthur swore, would be the most erotic thing anyone could have ever witnessed. Erotic enough to throw him over the edge as well, emptying out and filling Alfred to the brim. The younger let out a pleased hiss as he immediately learnt to love the sensation of the thick liquid filling him to the core, nice and hot, before having it trickle down his thighs. His knees gave out then, his stamina finally giving out, and fell bluntly on top of Arthur, lungs heaving desperately for air. But before anything was done, America removed the bit quickly, and placed his fist over the man's lips, allowing his seed to trickle into England's bruised mouth. England happily lapped it up as America reached behind himself and swiped his fingers over the substance that trickled down his own legs, and sucked said digits clean.

A short but sloppy kiss later, Alfred collapsed onto his side and clumsily released the older nation, who was quick to remove all extra equipment from himself. It was only then that he was actually bothered to take off the reminder of his clothes, causing the young blonde to gawk. He only shrugged, conveying the thought that they were beyond soiled to actually sleep with. Alfred followed suit without a word, and slipped out of his chaps, vest and hat before collapsing onto the bed. The older moved a tad bit to the side in order to share the one pillow with his glistening lover, the both of them turning to face each other, forehead resting against forehead. It took them a while to regain their breaths, but once they did, they couldn't help but chuckle.

"I suppose I'm gonna have to change the phrase then." America stated as he shifted to rest on his side, facing the tired man beside him and warmly caressing his knuckles against his check.

England mimicked the notion, nuzzling closer to the young nation's chest and pressing chaste kisses against it before looking up at him. "Meaning?"

"You didn't exactly ride a cowboy. You didn't do a hint of riding at all." He leaned down then, brushing their lips together before beginning to doze off. "But hell…" He yawned. "I ain't complainin'"

Arthur hummed thoughtfully as he slid his now bare hand across Alfred's side lovingly. "You're right. But I'll tell you this much, I don't think there is a person in this world who has had such a wild first time as you have, love. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" England sounded suspicious and America couldn't help but tease him a little.

"Well, maybe France taught me a thing or two."

"WHAT—!?"

"In theory! Just in theory!" Gleeful laughter then bounced off the walls, making England ease back into America's arms. "I had promised myself, after all."

Seconds ticked by, and when the young cowboy noticed that no answer would come he looked down and smiled tenderly at the sleeping man in his arms, still glistening with perspiration. Alfred leaned down to press a kiss wherever the equipment had left a bruise on the man's skin and mentally slapped himself for it. It hadn't been his intention to hurt his former caretaker, even if he had enjoyed it. Said nation mumbled in his sleep, nuzzling closer to America, a rare smile blessing his beautiful features. And just like that, Alfred F. Jones felt himself fall in love all over again.

With the softest of sighs, he let himself down on the pillow again, pressing his fingertips against the other's lips. He couldn't exactly remember if he had thought it or whispered it aloud, but the words lingered in his subconscious, "I had promised myself, that I'd wait for you to be my first…" But if the tightening of England's hand around his waist was any indication, he was sure the words did not go unheard.

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[A/N]: And there goes my first fic of the fandom. Apologies if they seemed a bit ooc. =.=;

And, quite obviously, reviews are more than welcome.