"And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air! Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there-"
Arthur slammed the insufferable card closed, wondering if it would be too rash to burn the idiotic thing. He settled for glaring at it and putting it on his end table instead. Pacing back and forth in front of it, as if he were interrogating the singing invitation, Arthur considered the meaning of the gaudy, American bedazzled piece of paper.
Was America mocking him? Taunting him with his silly songs and stupid holiday? No, somehow Arthur couldn't believe that America could be so malicious in this day and age. Not when the younger country had so few friends. Even America wasn't stupid enough to piss off his greatest ally in a war no one really approved of.
Green eyes narrowed on the offensive card.
So why had he received this thing?
Growling to the empty air, Arthur spun on his heel and stalked towards the card. He would not be fooled by a stupid card! Bracing himself for a full visual and audio assault, he hesitantly opened the card again.
"Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light? What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming…!"
Arthur cringed at the stupid lyrics and just reread the card. In a format reminiscent of France's god awful handwriting in the eighteenth century, the card invited him, by name, to America's birthday party. Apparently there would be a barbecue and fireworks. Oh yes, and music. Everyone was going to be there.
"Well I'm not going." He said firmly to himself, closing the card again and putting down. No, he wouldn't subject himself to what he knew would be just a chance for America to smile, laugh, and taunt him in that God awful 'Oh if I say it nicely, I'm not being mean haha!' way America had.
And the rest of the nations would stand there, being their usual unbearable selves. Russia and America would fight and pretend they weren't on the edge of snogging. France would wave his rose around…
Arthur paused in his prediction. Oh…What was the damn boy's name? Mark, was it? It sounded close enough.
Well poor Mark would be sexually harassed, if he was remembered at all. Lithuania would be stuck serving drinks and Japan would get all the attention for bringing the best gift. Everyone would pretend America's burned burgers were delicious and then the not so bright boy would nearly blow off his fingers lighting up those stupid fireworks of his, rejecting China's constant offer to do it for him and Korea's claim that he invented them.
Arthur smirked deviously to himself and began to mentally prepare America's gift. No, he wouldn't go to the inane party. Instead, he thought, his smirk growing as he found what he was looking for, he would give America a private party.
"It has been a time since I've rewarded the idiot for not blowing up the world yet." Arthur mused and went back to the living room to pick up the card again. It was the ugliest thing he had ever seen and it had to be burned before he could fully convince himself that his own idea was a good one.
"He's still an idiot, though." He said with a nod and burned the card over a candle.
"Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave? Over the land of the free…And..zzzt…the home ofthee-e-e-e-e-e bra-ztttz!"
"Arthur!" Alfred nearly kicked down England's front door, annoyed and, if he was being honest, a little hurt. He had been nice enough to send England an invite to his party and what had the bastard done? Gave him a phone call two hours before the party to tell him he couldn't go! And what did he mean to 'drop by'? And why the hell had he come?
'To kick his ass! Again!' Alfred thought, grinning a little.
"Arthur? Where the fuck are you? You better be dying!" he called out loudly, storming the household with a sense of urgency that created destruction almost automatically. It was a skill to walk into any room and turn it into a reconstruction of the aftermath of the tornado from the Wizard of Oz. Alfred was talented at many things.
"In here, you idiot! And that vase better not have a single crack on it!" England called out from the bedroom.
Alfred peered down the hallway and then at the very nice blue vase to his right. With a shrug, he tipped it over with a careless sweep of his hand, not even bothering to watch it explode as he continued to see where England was hiding.
It had taken him a half hour to get to England's house with the private jet he really wasn't supposed to have in his recession. Alfred walked down the hall slowly, knowing it would piss England off if he kept him waiting. The half hour wasted in flight meant he only had an hour to kick England's ass before he had to get back for his party. His whole house was filled to the brim with fireworks and damn it! He wanted to use them!
Throwing open the door, Alfred already had a deep breath taken to shout out profanity and complaints.
This breath was knocked clean out of him at the sight of England covered by a huge ass American flag ( 'No. Seriously. I don't even have one that big…') and, presumably, only a huge ass American flag, stretching himself out lewdly on the bed giving a seductive 'come hither' look.
"Uh…What the fuck?" he asked, completely befuddled. England gave a huff and gave up the seductive look, shifting the flag lower on his hips, proving to Alfred that there was no way he was wearing anything under that thing.
"It's your birthday, Alfred." England pointed out slowly, giving him a look that reminded Alfred that England considered him a rather dull minded child.
"Yeah…It is…" A thought dawned on Alfred and he snapped his fingers at the 'Aha!' moment, "Is this why you said you weren't coming to my party?" he asked, pointing an accusing finger at the prone, naked body of England.
England gave up completely on the lewd pose, tossing himself forward onto his stomach to bury his face into the mattress. Alfred got the strange feeling that England was muffling angered screams. But why would he be doing that? It didn't make sense! Maybe England was jealous of his brilliant deductive skills? Yeah…
"Aw man, Iggy. It's okay." He pacified, walking further into the room until he was next to the bed, "Lots of people get upset when they realize how smart I am."
A hand shot out from the large blanket of an American flag and grabbed his, coincidently, American flag printed tie.
"Ack!" Alfred choked out eloquently as England dragged him by the tie onto the bed, tossing him with strength that frankly scared the fuck out of Alfred onto the mattress and rolling to straddle him, the large American flag a cape wrapped around his shoulders.
"You know, Alfred. I just wanted to be nice. Just wanted to give you a present." England seemed to be talking more to himself as he pulled up Alfred's arm, positioning it above his head, spread eagle style, and tied a edge of the flag to Alfred's wrist.
"Huh…Whatcha doin', Iggy?" he asked, confused. Sure, he had been tied up for kinky sex before, ('That fucking Cold War was messed up, man'), but he was pretty sure it would be hard to use a huge ass flag as bondage.
"But no. You have to come into my house and be a moron, even when I'm trying to be romantic. This is the very last time, the last time, I swear, that I ever do anything nice for you, you git."
Alfred decided this one sided conversation didn't really concern him and looked up at the ceiling, wondering when he would get home to his fireworks. England tied the other top edge of the flag to his wrist as he imagined big, colorful booms, and seemed to struggle with trying to flip him on his stomach.
"Want me on the other side?"
"If you would."
Politely, Alfred flipped onto his stomach and England made quick work of getting the last two edges of the flag tied to Alfred's ankles, so the flag was pulled out over his back, actually completely covering him. Experimentally, Alfred tugged at the 'restraints' and found that he couldn't pull one hand too far without making the rest of his limbs get pulled along with it. Weird.
"Back on my back now?"
"Yes, thank you."
England waited until Alfred had properly situated himself onto his back before straddling him. Alfred felt like some kinda weird meal spread out on an American flag table cloth ( 'Like the ones I have at my barbecue! Man, I hope this doesn't take too long…' ) and squirmed under England a little at the stare he was getting. Could England read his mind? Was he jealous of his amazing American flag table clothes?
"You know my clothes are still on, right?" Alfred asked, again tugging at the tight knot on his wrist. How did England except to get him out of his clothes?
England made a dismissive noise and reached over him, giving Alfred a full frontal view that was not wasted on him, and dug in the bedside table for a moment, his cursing steadily increasing as he seemed to have trouble finding whatever he was looking for. Alfred began humming his national anthem, because it was his birthday and he was bored.
Finally, England made his own 'Aha!' noise, which Alfred now considered trade marking because he had so come up with that shit, and pulled back to reveal a letter opener. Alfred let out a groan of annoyance.
"Aw come on! Not Belarus style! I really like this suit, Iggy!" Alfred whined even as England rolled his eyes and began carefully popping off buttons with the knife.
"If you're just cutting them off, why the hell can't you just undo them?" He asked with another groan.
But England ignored him once again and soon his clothes were cut and ragged, yanked out of the way as much as they could be. England had some trouble cutting off his pants and had seemed to resign himself and just simply pulled those and his American flag printed boxers down to his tied ankles.
"You're buying me a new suit for my birthday." He pointed out with a heroic, manly pout, squirming as breezes of England's air conditioner ran over his revealed skin.
"How about I just enjoy your birthday suit now?" England asked voice husky as he leaned down to kiss him, eyes at half mast as he seemed to try to recreate the hot, seductive atmosphere.
"Lame line!" Alfred managed to get out before his lips were sealed and with a sigh he kissed back. Birthday sex was great and all…But why couldn't it wait until he was done blowing shit up?
England kissed him expertly and Alfred had to appreciate that a bit, kissing back absently, mindfully arching into England's touch when the hands ran down his chest.
'Older nations always know how to kiss,' he thought, moaning when England gave his nipple a knowing pinch, 'Probably 'cause they spent all their childhoods practically raping each other…'
The other nipple was pinched and Alfred felt himself contently sinking into pleasure, because what else was he gonna do? The sooner they got this done, the sooner he could get to his party. With that idea in mind, he began making pleasured noises and thrust his hips up towards England with a desperate whine that he had perfected over the years.
"I haven't even begun touching you and you already want to be done?" England asked, and if Alfred didn't know better, he would have said his tone might have been insulted. Which was stupid, 'cause shouldn't he assume he was so good that a kiss and two pinches could drive Alfred crazy? It wasn't true, but still.
"Um…Please let me fuck you now?" He tried with wide, innocent eyes. England crumbled to the look; he always did, and blushed crimson, reaching over him again to look in the Bedside Table Drawer of Doom.
This time Alfred took full advantage of all that naked skin stretched above him and leaned his head up to kiss the skin right above England's heart. It was a move that made the older nation shiver and made Alfred look smug. He was way better at this whole seducing thing.
"Be grateful I'm doing anything for you at all, you prat." England grumbled, having brought back lube ( 'The boring kind too. Jeez, Iggy. Try being romantic and get cherry or strawberry at least…') and was still blushing.
The lube was set on Alfred's chest, ('and wow, Iggy seriously thinks I'm a table…'), and England leaned forward to kiss his again. His hands ran down Alfred's body, smoothing over remembered pleasure points and darting past scars that were supposed to be being celebrated today. Alfred heard a small sigh come from England, regretful and sad, and the younger nation had to kiss him this time. Because heroes had to comfort people, even when said people had been huge jerks before. The kiss was warm and talented and nice.
Alfred reached up to bring England's head closer to his for a deeper kiss and almost pulled the rest of his appendages out of their sockets. England laughed against his lips, smirking, and Alfred just rolled his eyes, thrusting his hips up against England's and tearing a pleasured gasp from the nation straddling him.
"Come on, Arthur. You got me where you want me, do something." He whispered, nipping at England's lips playfully.
Yeah, he knew he was teasing England's imperialistic need to have him all to himself ('I'm having sex…Imperialistic is way too big of a word…') but for the sake of having 'themed' sex, he figured he could play Naughty Colony to England's Conquering Nation. The flag currently binding him proved to both of them that it would never be more then a fantasy, after all.
It was worth it to see the way England's eyes darkened and feel the sweet kiss turn into something a little hotter, something with a little more teeth and tongue. The lube was pulled off of his chest and disappeared somewhere.
Alfred had to confess, he really wasn't paying attention to what the fuck England decided to do with the lube, all his attention was in the way England could twist his tongue and rub at a part of his mouth that made his whole body tingle.
"Shit!" Alfred broke away from the kiss with the curse and threw his head back, thumping it against the mattress when, without ceremony, England took his cock to full hilt inside of him. Broken words left Alfred's mouth after that, trying to get something across, but were ruined when, with every started word, England would smugly lift himself up and promptly drop himself back down.
"A-Ah…God…Arthur!" Alfred moaned out, arching himself deeper into the torturously slow England and feeling the flag stretch taunt across his back, the tight material digging into his still clothed back.
"Still impatient…" England mumbled breathlessly and braced himself on Alfred's arched chest, rising up and down mercifully faster. Alfred couldn't breathe and could just stare sightlessly up at England riding him like a professional bull rider. He couldn't help but think that England looked just perfect, flushed and riding him.
They continued with the wet slap of skin meeting skin, slicked by the unromantic lube. The sound was broken only by the sound of England giving in and joining Alfred in his loud and unrestrained moaning, praising and cursing God and England often in the same, wasted breath. Alfred felt himself nearing that edge almost painfully when England tightened himself around him, reminding Alfred once again just how experienced the older nation was.
And then England stopped.
"Wha…? Why…?" Alfred panted the question mark more of a whine then punctuation. England leaned down, until he was pressing their chest together, lips hovering above his. Alfred could feel himself still connected and every move England made just pulled whimpers from him.
"Say. It." England demanded, pressing a too soft kiss to his lips, "Say it and I'll blow your silly little mind."
Alfred blinked up at England, trying desperately to think of what it might be that England wanted him to say, the vague thought that England was way too coherent to still be encasing his dick slowing him down a lot.
"Russia…Isn't as big as you?" He tried, looking up at England and searching for recognition that this was the right answer. England gave him a look that was very much like one of a cat that just got pet the wrong way and was about to claw his face off and Alfred quickly kept thinking.
"Oh!" He had another 'Aha!' moment and grinned up at England, leaning his head up to give him a loving kiss. Jeez. England was so insecure sometimes…
"I love you, Iggy?" He questioned with another kiss and this time England's face exploded with a blush and he kissed back for a long, kind of wet, moment before pulling back and resuming his riding activities.
Alfred was more then grateful and leaned back against, arching and thinking of England as said country went faster, seeming to find his prostrate and using Alfred to hit it on every thrust. He didn't really care if he was being used, he just wanted it keep going and thankfully, England's sadism didn't come out.
Alfred tugged his hands, trying to grab England's hips and set the pace and bring him down harder, but the stupid flag prevented him painfully. With a grunt, he kept tugging at the flag, not really recognizing the fact that he should just ask England to undo it, too focused on the other fact that England was currently undoing him.
And then England did a move with his hips, proving extreme limberness, and Alfred let out a loud cry of the other nation's name, following by a somehow louder ripping noise and through the wave of pleasure, he wondered who was ripping, him or England?
"God. Jesus. Joseph and Mary." Alfred chanted to the ceiling, blearily realizing he, and his cut clothes, were spattered with England Juice and that his wrists hurt…England collapsed lazily next to him, making him whine when they were disconnected so roughly.
"Happy birthday, idiot." England mumbled as he buried his face into the crook of his neck. Alfred stared down at him and moved to put an arm around him and realized with a blink that his hand was still connected to the flag.
"Oh hey. Look! Superhuman strength!" He gloated, happily showing off the fact that he had cleanly ripped the flag in half. England didn't even give look up for him, just grumbling into his neck more.
They sat like that for ten minutes or so and Alfred wondered if England was asleep…
"Can we go to my party now? This is boring." He whined, poking England.
"I hate you and I hate your birthday and I hope you die." England said in a loving sort of way before pushing him out of the bed and rolling over to go to sleep. Alfred poked his head up to look over the edge of the bed and blink at England.
"Is that a yes? …England? England…?"
Alfred pouted and huffed.
The rather heavy plastic paperweight, pulled from the Bedside Table Drawer of Doom, cleanly aimed at his head gave him a concussion, nicely knocked him out and England finally got to celebrate the 4th of July in peace for once.
Hello there! Violet or A Vampires Butterfly here~ Just giving you guys a little Fourth of July fun. xD Hope you enjoyed~ With much love, A Vampires Butterfly ^.^