"Oh, man, it was awesome, Ivan, you really know movies!"
"I am glad that you enjoyed it, comrade Jones! Perhaps we could go see another sometime! I would be happy to pay for your ticket..."
"Dude, when was the last time I told you how much you rock?"
It was only a few months or so after America and England had first gotten together. Alfred had gone with Russia to see that film he'd missed the first time, and the two English-speaking nations had already taken their relationship to the next level, and honestly, if anything, England had gotten more protective and jealous than before. He was currently sitting outside the door to the meeting room, a bit of deja vu for him, listening to the conversation. His left eye was twitching slightly, and his body was warm, the Brit able to feel the jealousy rising in him.
"I am happy that you think so!" came a cheerful, chirping voice, Russian accent thick. "As long as we are talking about films, there was one that looked rather interesting at your place..."
"Heh. You wanna come see it?" he smirked. "You want me to pay your admission, don't you? 'Fair trade' or something like that?"
"You are very observant, comrade!"
"Well, I don't guess it would be too much trouble, I mean, with you paying for my tickets at your place, it's the least I could do, right? When did you want to see this movie?"
"As soon as possible would be nice. I did my research, it is already out in your country. We could be going...sometime today, perhaps?"
"Yeah, sure! Soon as the meeting's over then?"
"I will be waiting for you outside! Спасибо!" (Spasibo)
"Sweet! Well, I'm getting kinda hungry, and the break is almost over, so I'm going to head off to the snack machines and grab a candy bar. You want anything?"
"No thank you, comrade Jones, I brought something in my briefcase! I will eat it in here and wait for everyone to return, Дa?"
"If you insist. Later, Ivan!"
"Goodbye, comrade! I am eagerly awaiting that film!"
"Haha, me too, it's gonna be fun!"
And with those words, he left, though he didn't get far. Just around the corner of the hall, waiting for him at the snack machines, England grabbed the man by the collar, Alfred giving a surprised shout, and pushed him against the side of the drink machine, face first.
"You were talking to him again..." he began, body pressed flush against Alfred's. He was already inching his fingers under the man's suit jacket, knee pressed in between his legs.
"Ngh..! And you...you were spying again..!"
"With good reason. I don't like you talking to him, I made that clear..."
Alfred smirked, knowing what was to come next. It had been like this every time he was caught talking to Russia, at least since he'd gotten with England, and he was starting to realise just why France always tried to push the title of "World's Most Sensual Entity" onto the Brit... He could be pretty bad when he wanted to be, especially when jealous, and now that they'd actually become a couple, he had no qualms about showing it... Hands trailed over Alfred's hips, moving to hastily and skilfully undo the first few buttons of his blazer, bottom to top, which only emphasized the American's point.
"I stopped listening to you long ago, don't try and act like you have authority over me again just because we're dating now!"
He seemed amused... England frowned, jerking the blazer off and throwing it to the floor.
"We're lovers, and that means you belong to me, Alfred. What am I supposed to think when you sit with him alone, and talk for hours on end..?"
"That we...that we're holding a conversation?"
The American grinned teasingly, shifting, to try and find a more comfortable spot. The drink machine wasn't the most comfortable place England had ever chosen to shove him against... He choked for just a moment as England pulled his tie backwards for a quick, rough kiss, but he soon regained his breath as the kiss wore on and evened out, if only to lose it again once he felt a hand tugging at his belt.
"Don't try to be funny, Alfred... Not now."
Another tug and the belt had been undone, and all that stood in the Englishman's way were a pair of trousers, and some undies. He glanced around, picked up the blazer, and grabbed America's tie again, pulling him in between the drink and snack machines, a spot that was somewhat hidden to anyone moving back from the cafeteria to the meeting room. America's back was to the wall this time, and England pressed against him, placing their lips together demandingly. There were a few possessive growls as the American's zip and button were undone, and honestly, they really didn't have to hide at all, because with the sloppy, wet sounds their lips made, smacking against each other, they would have been easily found regardless.
America grunted, England's fingers tweaking a nipple rather insistently through his dress shirt, and his brows furrowed, cheeks flushing in his building pleasure. It wasn't the first time England had dragged him off for talking to Russia, and on some days, America even pretended to talk to the man on the phone just to get Arthur riled. It was a fun game that he liked to play, and the rewards were often great, especially when he didn't quite let England have his way at first.
Alfred's trousers came down quickly, Arthur's hands roaming his body, and with the prolonged length of the kiss, the American was starting to grow a bit light-headed, especially with those kisses added onto those touches. Arthur's hands were sliding up his sides, and over his chest, down his arms, and around his shoulders... It was a bit of a sensory overload, it clouded his mind somewhat, and in his hazy state of mind, he couldn't keep a moan from slipping past his guard. England pulled back for just a moment, only to attack America's lips again, a bit more passionately this time (a response to his moans) that America found England often did when in one of his "moods". He was starting to notice his pants still clinging to his hips, if only because England was grinding his knee into him again... He cursed to himself, mind swimming, and he only realised that he wasn't being kissed any more when his vision cleared with his rapid intake of air. His legs trembled slightly, England had amazing kissing skills (years of practice, undoubtedly,) and the only thing that kept him from sliding to the ground was that damned knee, still in its place. His breath was heavy, just slightly so, and the feral smirk on England's face sent shivers up the American's spine. The Englishman hummed, clearly knowing he'd won, and licked his lips, not to moisten them, but to remove the excess saliva. Alfred opened his mouth to say something, whether it be protest or plea, no one would know, because before he could get a sound out, a hand shot out to cover his mouth, and keep him from speaking.
"...perhaps we could eat lunch together tomorrow..? Maybe at this nice little restaurant I know of back in Paris~? Of course, I would pay for you, such a beautiful man should not pay for his own food, oui?"
"Why the hell can't you get it! ? I said 'no' the first six times, dammit, leave me alone!"
"Oh, but Italian and French...two nations known for love...surely we could heat up the night in such a magnificent way! Why do you not just think about it?"
"I said 'NO'!"
The voices faded as the owners continued down the hall, and the hand slipped off of his lips, the American swallowing when he realised that people were starting to filter in from the cafeteria. The lunch break was nearly over, people were coming back in, and they were nearly out of time. He wasn't sure if he wanted this any more... England, however, knew very well that he wanted it, and he never missed a beat, rolling right into massaging Alfred's erection with one hand, his other hand slipping into the sides of the boxer-briefs to try and slide them down. America gasped, hips jerking involuntarily, and as his undergarments began to slowly peel away, the rougher fabric causing friction against his sensitive flesh, he grit his teeth, fingernails digging into the wall behind him. He couldn't risk making too much noise, more people might come by, and as loud and outgoing as he was, he wasn't quite that open.
Finally, his undies fell to the floor, and it was then that he noticed the bulge in England's own trousers. Of course England would be hard by this point too, that was fully understandable, but really, he should have taken his clothing off by now... He was still fully clothed! America's eyebrows furrowed, and England smirked.
"I want you to do it."
When America glanced up, England's eyes were forest green, the Briton staring into his own navy optics, and the boy wouldn't have been shocked to find that his very soul was being seen into. He'd obviously been caught looking, the Anglo nation having decided to toy with him a bit more, though by this point, it was becoming more like torture, and another pair walked by, these two speaking what sounded like Chinese and an occasional Korean word. England pressed himself flush against Alfred to keep from being seen, and the American's eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to keep from crying out, Adam's apple bobbing with the force of his gulp. The hallway was quiet once more, the door to the meeting room clicking shut, and England was at work again, lips and teeth working at America's neck, just enough to make his skin prickle.
"I said I wanted you to do it, Alfred..." he whispered, breath hot and thick. "Hurry now, the meeting is sure to recommence soon. Everyone's beginning to come our way..."
This was all the incentive that the American needed, he didn't want to be caught like that, and so, fingers shaking slightly, just enough to be noticed, he worked open the button, dragged down the zip, and smirked, deciding to get a bit of revenge in before letting England have his way. He reached into the "V" shape made by the opened zip, and stroked, just once, over the Briton's cock, earning himself a soft hiss, and a quiet growl of pleasure.
"You want to?"
Another childish grin from the American, and England rolled his eyes.
"You're hilarious. Now will you just remove my trousers, already..? I'm getting a bit impatient, and honestly, the meeting really will resume before too terribly long. I don't care much if we get caught, but I know you seem to be a bit shy about it, so I'm quite sure that you'll want to hurry this along, yeah?"
"You just know how to suck the fun out of everything, don't ya?"
"Alfred, if you don't hurry up, you'll be the one sucking, and I'll not do anything for you, now pull my trousers down."
As if he wanted to make it more difficult for the American, England leaned forward, teeth connecting with the soft flesh of his neck. America shivered, tilting his head to the side, and grunted, feeling those teeth begin to nip, and bite.
"H-hey, hey, don't leave marks! Everyone will see them!"
"Including Russia, yeah?"
Arthur's voice was low, and husky.
"I'm simply letting him know who you belong to, Alfred... You're my territory, not his, and if this is what it takes to remind you of that, then so be it..."
He began to suck, lips and teeth and tongue working together to draw blood to the surface, and before long, there was a spotted red mark marring the what-once-was clear, pale skin of America's neck. England began to lap at it, as if a cat nursing a wound, and soon moved on to another spot, making similar marks along the entirety of his throat.
"America...remove my trousers...now."
"A-ah..? Oh! Sorry, I...I nearly...forgot..."
Finally, at long last, the American willed his hands to move, and he placed them at Arthur's hips, tugging the material of his trousers down. He didn't wait quite so long to pull at the other's undergarments, and they fell just moments after the trousers hit the floor. By now, America's neck was littered with spots, England had probably gone a bit overboard, but he didn't seem keen on the idea of stopping, and he flipped the boy around, continuing his nibbling on the back of his neck, near his hair line.
They were both panting by now, breaths heaving, and they had a hard time keeping that concealed as strong, heavy footsteps fell in the hallway, softer and more dainty footsteps following along, accompanied by another person who kept whispering out "ve"s. They were running out of time, and Arthur grit his teeth, reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve the lubrication he'd gotten into the habit of bringing with him now. America had compared him to France in the past, but he was usually "silenced" before too long anyway, and so England never paid much attention to it. Currently, he was digging his teeth into a condom wrapper (also in his coat pocket,) and tossing the silver covering to the floor, uncaring as he began to stretch the elastic material over himself.
There was a short, dull "pop" as the lubricant bottle opened, and a wet sound as it was poured into Arthur's hand. It all happened in a matter of mere seconds, Arthur had gotten fast, and without warning, at least, nothing more than a smirk and light hum, Arthur's index finger was slipping inside the American, wiggling in deep. America wasn't quite so tight as he once was, but still, he needed a bit of preparation (it had been a while since they'd done it, his muscles had tensed again,) and so he had to be careful, though with the way America groaned, geeping his mouth against the back of his hand to keep quiet, it was hard not to try and make him scream. He managed to control himself, thoughts of being interrupted by someone trying to see what was going on thick in his mind, and rubbed against the inside walls of America instead, feeling the man twitch, and jerk under his single finger.
Perhaps the reason he enjoyed taking America like this so much was that he felt as if he had power again, he enjoyed how simple it was to have America liquify under his touch, but leaving it at that would make him sound like a selfish and controlling bastard, and so he decided to end it with "he also enjoyed how it made America feel good". Yes, that made him seem much less of a bastard, and he pulled out that one finger, adding a second this time as well. He brought his fingers apart, trying to open the boy up farther, and then curled them, sinking them in and pulling them out, a slow thrusting motion to give the boy pleasure. He knew it was always a bit odd at first, having fingers inside of you, but he tried to make the process as fast and pleasurable as he could. Three fingers came next, and Arthur focused more, this time, on pushing them in as deep as he could, though when he was satisfied, he curled his fingers just slightly, up towards the American's stomach. There was a muffled shout, Alfred actually shuddered, knees looking as if they were about to collapse, but he managed to stand on his shaking feet, forehead leaning against the wall. He was panting rather harshly now, just that one strike was enough, and Arthur pulled his digits, not wanting America to fall to the floor before they'd even gotten started.
The cap to the lubricant was again popped open, and that same wet sound as before shot through America's ears, chilling him and making his body unbearably hot at the same time. There was a soft grunt, England clearly trying to keep his voice down as he lubricated the condom, but the problem came when he bent forward, breath landing on Amerca's ear. America was having a hard enough time not making noise in the first place, he didn't need the extra difficulty! Luckily for him it didn't last long, and he'd only let out one strained moan, but he had the stranges feeling that he wasn't going to be able to be terribly quiet for very much longer. Arthur positioned himself, gripping Alfred's hips for balance, and the aforementioned American took a deep breath, fingernails digging into the wall. He spread his legs a bit more, just in case, and bit his lip, eyes clenching shut as he waited for that first entry. With a husky breath of "All right", England pushed forward, keeping his pace slow until he settled in.
There was a short curse from the American as he felt the pressure from that first push in, he wasn't sure he would ever get used to the sensation, though he wasn't taking quite as long to adjust as he first was. He gave a nod, a grunted "go", and Arthur, hissed, having to catch himself from snapping back in once he pulled out. He got the chills every time they did this. It was still hard to believe that he actually did it sometimes, with just how long he'd wanted to have America, but if truth be told, he'd always figured he would be the one on the receiving end if it did happen. People called him feminine quite a bit, said he was "slender" and whatnot, but he was actually kind of proud, being able to top the stronger American. His pace quickened with his thoughts, damn, soon he wouldn't even have thoughts, but while he was still able to control himself, he peeked over the American's shoulder, mentally noting that he would have teeth marks on his thumb later (he was biting down pretty hard in his attempted silence.)
The hallway was actually rather quiet, most everyone had re-entered the meeting room, and the Briton had to keep a check on his speed, lest their bodies smack together too sharply, though as he began to move, he feared his body would run away without his consent. He'd not been inside of America for longer than a minute, and his mind was already hazing with impatience, and greed. He wanted America all to himself, he briefly thought of Russia, and his body tensed, and without caring who may be listening, he growled, low in his throat, and pistoned his hips forward, determined to claim the man beneath him as his own, to prove to him that the Russian couldn't possibly give him this much pleasure...
Sweat beginning to trickle down his brow, England nibbled at his lover's ear, smirking in satisfaction when he heard Alfred's breath hitch. The poor boy wouldn't last too long now, and that was incentive enough for Arthur to pick things up, and in that moment, teeth still resting on Alfred's ear, he breathed out his demands, voice husky, and low.
"Alfred...say my name..."
Alfred never denied him anything when he asked like that, and with such a simple request, why wouldn't he comply? The name fell from the younger nation's lips quickly, almost as if he'd been waiting for permission, and Arthur decided that, with such hasty compliance, America deserved a reward. Focusing more on slow, deep thrusts, rather than quick, shallow ones, Arthur reached around towards the wall, fingers brushing the burning (and very solid) flesh of Alfred's cock. Hand wrapping more firmly around the length, he swore he could feel Alfred's heartbeat through it, given how hard it was, America was obviously past due, and with a few quick and deliberate strokes, Arthur brought the boy to orgasm, petting him until he was milked dry.
Mind still muddled with his pleasurable high, England didn't even notice that his hand was now coated in an off-white, sticky mess. In his opinion, there was no need to worry about it now, not when he was so damn close himself, and more determined than ever to finish, he shoved in a few more times, using a bit more force than intended. It hadn't taken much more time, he'd been close already, and body trembling violently with his release, the condom filled, leaving England breathing deeply into the back of America's neck. Alfred hadn't said anything after his own orgasm, nothing more than a few soft, breathless sighs each time he was thrust into, and to Arthur, that just showed how much the poor thing had been wiped out. Sex always tired him, he was just one of those people who exhausted after the first round, but the faces he made after he began to doze off, so calm, and relaxed, and oblivious to everything else...well, Arthur loved them. They were endearing to him, and he pulled out, slipping off the condom and tying it.
Helping the American to the floor, England began to rummage around in his pockets for the handkerchief he always kept in the chest of his suit. While he'd worn a condom, America hadn't, and the evidence of their act had splattered all over the wall... Obviously that would have to be cleaned, and Arthur took it upon himself, first wiping his own cock free of whatever happened to leak out of the condom as he was taking it off, and then cleaning up Alfred. He wasted no time in redressing before he went around the corner, cleaning off the cloth (and his hand) in the water fountain, rushing back to wipe off the walls, and what had managed to drip to the floor. He simply tossed the handkerchief in the trash bin, scrambling to redress America, and taking an American dollar from the boy's wallet, he bought a Coke from the vending machine they'd just fucked in the presence of. Alfred drank it down greedily, the reddish hue beginning to finally drain from his cheeks, and with a smirk, England pecked his forehead, helping him up. He momentarily noted that Alfred was still wobbly on his feet, but a few more minutes recovering would fix that; Arthur just had to let Alfred lean on him for support for a bit.
They were probably already late for the meeting, and a quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed it. They'd missed the deadline by a mere two minutes, but that wasn't enough to warrant suspicion. At least...it hadn't been in the past. He was sure it would be fine. The instant America had finished his Coke, even if his face was still a bit pink, the Englishman sent him on ahead, figuring that it would only be more suspicious if they ended up walking back in together. Even as the younger male walked into the door, he could already hear him, that loud, boisterous voice echoing through the hallway, even though he wasn't even in the hall any more...
"Hey, guys, you miss me yet! Sorry I'm late, England and I got stuck in the elevator. It was hell to get the door open, it was stuck pretty tight, but with my strength, we got out fine! ... England? Nah, he'll be along shortly, he's grabbing a drink from the water fountain."
All he could do was shake his head. That boy was mad, truly, but what could he do? All he could think of was to hope that the lie was believed, and he walked on towards the meeting room door, trying to put on his best grumpy expression... Before he could even reach the room, however, that Russian's voice, the one he'd come to think of as a rival, assaulted his ears...and he went red.
"That is a nice tattoo you have on your neck, America! But why would you get so many of the same red spots on your neck?"
Stupid Russian, noticing something that didn't concern him... Why couldn't he mind his own business, anyway! ? The rest of this meeting would be horribly awkward, but what else could he do? He sucked it up, and trudged in, preparing for the onslaught of teasing to come... Though still, if Russia noticed the marks, at least he knew that America was taken, and that gave England enough satisfaction to enter the room with little more hesitance.