America sighed as he buttoned up the jacket of the tuxedo he was putting on. He hated monkey suits, but this was a special occasion, so he tried his hardest to make an exception.
It was England's birthday, and all of the countries were getting together at his place to celebrate.
At first, America had no idea what to wear. Normally, he didn't care about what he wore and when he wore it, but he felt a certain inclination to look nice for England on his birthday. But what was there for him to wear?
America had rifled through his clothes, in vain – each outfit in his closet was exactly the same as the last. So he decided to go through his storage closet and see what he could find there.
That was when he stumbled across the tuxedo England had given him when he was still a colony. When it was given to him, America had said he would only wear it on special occasions since he hated tuxes. But he never had.
Now he had a chance to.
It was nostalgic, yes. It brought him back centuries to when he and England actually got along, yes. But England was known for being nostalgic, so America knew the elder would appreciate the small gesture.
That, and he hadn't bought England any sort of gifts, so he had to make up for it somehow.
As America headed to the airport, he stopped by McDonald's for his customary snack. He bought the usual amount, and a little extra for England. Hopefully his meager gifts would be enough to please the older country.
America sighed – nervous and unsure of himself, for once in his life – before he boarded the airplane.
He got to England's place, surprisingly, before the rest of the countries. He stumbled, bags of food in hand, inside and placed the bag on the huge food table. "A-am I late or something?" America murmured to England, who had already been in the room, setting up.
"Not at all, you're actually on time, for once." England responded as he approached the younger and began assisting him with taking all the foodstuffs out of the bags and placing them on the table with the rest. When they finished, England turned to him completely and studied his outfit. America's heart raced with anxiety. Would the elder remember? Would he appreciate the gesture, or would it piss him off? Or worse, would it depress him? Perhaps this wasn't the greatest idea, after all…
"A-are you wearing - ?"
America cut the elder off, without realizing what he was saying. "I can change if you want." He was looking to the floor, half in respect and half in shame.
"No…It looks good on you." America looked up, surprised, and saw that England was smiling at him. Actually smiling. The elder nation hadn't smiled at him since before he declared independence…
In an attempt to get the awkward moment moving away, and to get his normal personality back, America lifted a hand to England's forehead. "Are you feeling alright…?" he asked with a smile.
England smirked and batted his hand away.
At that moment, Germany entered the room, trailed by Japan and Italy. Italy ran forward, glomped England. "Happy birthday, England!" He cheered. England winced at the touch, but managed to keep a smile on his face.
"Thank you," England murmured, patting Italy on the shoulder when he was finally released.
From the doorway, Germany sighed and placed his bags on the table. He called Italy over, and Japan bowed to England in respect, who tried bowing back but failed. America stifled a laugh as the elder nation fumbled to rise up at the same time as Japan and not falter.
When Japan walked away in favor of Germany and Italy, America leaned in to England's ear and whispered, "That was really funny."
"Shut up, you git!" England fumed, pushing America away. The younger nation only laughed.
Slowly, the rest of the countries began to show, placing their food offerings and gifts on the table, and conversing with one another. It had been a while since the last get-together; everyone was happy to be able to see one another without having to work or listen to boring presentations.
His mouth full of a hamburger, America conversed with one of the other nations, whose name he never could manage to remember. It was sort of sad, considering this nation was his neighbor, residing in the region of land just above his. What was his name again…?
America cut his neighbor nation off mid-sentence and asked, "What's your name again…?" his mouth full of food.
The other nation sighed, but calmly answered, "I'm Canada."
"Ah, that's right! I don't know why I keep forgetting…" America smiled weakly and urged the other nation to continue whatever it was he had been talking about before.
As Canada talked about whatever, America looked over his shoulder at the rest of the nations as they conversed and enjoyed themselves. He found England a little ways off, talking to Sealand, probably chastising him.
Then France walked in. Completely forgetting about Canada, America walked over to the food table to inconspicuously watch the bloodbath that was about to occur.
"Happy birthday, England!" France cheered. He hadn't brought anything as an offering for the elder nation. Of course.
England was on the other as soon as he saw him. "What are you doing here?" He shouted, strangling the other.
America died of laughter as the two nations went at it. He, naturally, had sent the faux invitation to England's sworn enemy. He had to have a little fun somehow.
The other nations crowded around them, not surprised that they were fighting. France and England were rolling around on the floor now, tearing at one another's hair and clothes like schoolgirls.
"Who invited you?" England growled, rolling on top of France.
"You did!" France screeched, taking back dominance from England.
"Why would I invite you?" The host nation cried, pushing France off him.
America continued to laugh, unaware that the rest of the nations were quiet.
When they became aware that he was laughing, France and England looked up the younger nation, bloodlust in their eyes. "And just what are you laughing at, you git?" England asked threateningly as the two sparring nations got to their feet.
America, a smile still on his face, blurted, "You two! You always fight. That's why I sent France the invitation." The nation that never thought before he spoke realized what he admitted to seconds before England and France were attacking him.
The three of them rolled around, screaming about the faults of one another, as the other countries watched for a moment. This happened habitually.
Germany, of course, was the one to break up the fight. He lifted up France and England by their suits in one hand, and America by his in the other. "Isn't it your birthday, England?" he asked menacingly.
The three nations shut up immediately, afraid of his tone of voice. "Y-yeah," England murmured, looking to the ground.
"Then shouldn't you be happy France showed up? Shouldn't you be happy France offered birthday tidings and wanted to celebrate with you?"
"I guess so…" England muttered, looking to the floor.
"And you, America!" Germany growled, "Stop looking for ways to get England and France to fight. It's his birthday!"
"Alright," America murmured, turned to the two elder nations. "Sorry France, sorry England."
The two elder nations apologized as well, and Germany dropped the three of them, dusted his hands.
"I guess," England started, "that we can forget our differences for today, right?" He looked up to France and held his hand out.
"Sure." France nodded, took the other's hand and shook it.
The rest of the countries dissipated and went back to talking among themselves. France and England respectfully parted, and the latter made a beeline for America, who immediately looked everywhere for means of escape.
It was in vain; England took the younger by the earlobe and pulled him off to the side, away from everyone else. "America, you…you…"
"I'm sorry," America pouted, looking to the floor.
He heard England sigh. "Thank you for inviting France," he whispered.
"What?" America looked up in surprise.
The elder smiled. "It would not have been a real party if my rival was not here." They stared at one another for a moment before the host nation nodded and walked off.
The rest of the time, America ate lots of hamburgers and talked to some of the other nations. He tried his hardest not to look over at England every second.
As time went on, the nations began to leave, sometimes one by one, sometimes in groups. America sighed with relief – he wanted to get England alone. He'd wanted that all along.
Finally, it was just the two of them left. Quietly, America helped England clean up messes and put leftovers away. "You can go home, too, you know," England murmured as they worked.
"I know," America assured him.
They continued to work in silence for a bit. "Then why don't you go?" England said after a while.
America was unsure as to how he wanted to put this. "Remember…the last time…we had a meeting here?" He blushed a little in the memory.
England, on the other hand, went scarlet, dropped whatever was in his hands.
The younger planted his lips on England's before the elder could say anything. Then, when they broke, "I want to do that again…"
England was silent for a short moment before replying, "Well, we bloody hell aren't going to do it on the table again." America's heart fluttered as the elder led him out of the party room and to his personal bedroom.
Even before the door to his room was closed, America was on him, pulling him close and biting his lower lip. England kicked his bedroom door closed, and the two of them made their way to his bed, taking off one another's clothes as they did so.
By the time America dragged England on to the bed, all that was left was their boxers. "It's your birthday," America whispered against England's lips as he sat on the bed and England hovered over him, "so I'll let you be on top this time."
"R-really?" England flushed.
America nodded. He could see that England had no idea what to do, or how to feel about it. The younger smiled, touched the tips of his fingers to England's cheek. "Just do the first thing that pops into your head," he murmured, their lips touching as he spoke. "Don't think at all."
"Don't…think?" England murmured, looking into the younger's eyes for an answer. "What do I do, then?"
"What do you want to do?" America whispered huskily, his eyes half-lidded.
"I…want…" England looked away before he completed his sentence. "…to kiss you," he finished, looking back into America's eyes.
"Then kiss me," America whispered, his heart racing.
England did not need to be told twice. Immediately, the elder nation's lips were on the younger's, pushing through more passion than America ever thought England had. England pushed him back onto the bed fully, kissed his neck and nibbled it a bit. America inhaled with pleasure, mentally noting to make England top again.
England worked his way down to America's right nipple, leaving a trail of kisses behind. America groaned and arched upwards with pleasure as the birthday boy took his nipple into his mouth and began licking, sucking, nibbling. "G-god damn," America whispered, one eye closed with delight and the other only half-open. "A-are you sure you've never done this before?"
The elder looked up to the younger, his eyes glazed over with lust. "I'm just…not thinking."
"Good," America gushed before England could think, "keep doing that!"
England was on him again in a second, nibbling at his neck again. America groaned with pleasure once more, buckled his hips without even realizing it. England's hand slipped down along his body and to his boxers, where it fondled his growing erection through his boxers. America cried out, delusional with pleasure, and arched his back again, begging England to continue. He wrapped his arms around England's neck, burying one hand in his hair and pulling at the roots as though his life depended on it. He heard England grunt with pleasure, felt those wonderful digits toying with his penis. America whimpered in ecstasy, panted because he just could not get enough oxygen into him.
The elder moved away from the younger's neck and worked his way down to his boxers, where he took the beltline into his mouth and pulled upwards. America gasped as the lip of his boxers smacked his skin after England released it. England kissed just below America's bellybutton, but just above the lip of his boxers, as if in apology, and began working them off.
America cried out when the cold air of the room hit his erection, bucked upwards yet again.
"Bloody hell," England whispered in that accent that turned America on so easily, "you're so well equipped. This was inside me…?" He ran a finger up America's length, scarcely touching it, but sending shivers down America's spine nonetheless. America squirmed in excitement and unfair torture.
England took America's length in his hand, rubbed it and toyed with the head. America bit into his hand, enough to draw a little blood, and thrust his hips upward, hoping England would hurry up.
Something must have clicked with him; because, a moment later, England was taking America's painful member into his mouth and sucking on it like there was no tomorrow. America screamed in pleasure and release, already knowing that he would not be able to hold up for long. England had tortured him too much beforehand.
"F-fuck, nngh, damnit, hah, Arthur!" America screamed the other's name as he involuntarily shot his fluid into England's mouth. But it was impossible not to; England was just too good at this.
England hummed, began licking up the extra cum around America's member. "You taste good," he murmured, looking up at America expectantly.
America, too high for rational thought, licked his lips. England came back up, kissed him passionately on the lips before moving to his ear and nibbling it. "I want to hear you scream my name again," he whispered seductively, turning America on all over again, "when I shag you, long and hard."
Shag? Oh, shit, that damned accent again. America groaned, nearly ready for a second cumshot already. "Mmgn, Arthur…" America whined, holding the Briton close as he nibbled on his ear.
England straightened to face America and raised the fingers of his left hand. "Lick," he commanded, and immediately America opened his mouth to accept them. He was not used to being so submissive to the elder, but it was all so good, he could not resist. And it was England's birthday, and he had not really bought England, even if the elder did not say anything about it.
Soon, three of England's delicious fingers were pumping within America's mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, America noticed that England was stroking his dick a bit with his free hand, so America used one of his free hands to do that as well. England groaned and turned back to America's collarbone, which he bit down on. America cried out as best he could with his mouth stuffed with fingers, arched his back.
Once more, England straightened, one hand mostly in America's mouth, the other gripping the sheets of his bed as though his life depended on it. Rhythmically, he began thrusting his member against America's, earning a cry of delight from the younger. America could not focus on sucking England's fingers while England was thrusting against him like that; instead, he panted and moaned, whispering England's real name and begging him to continue.
England removed his fingers from America's mouth completely, dry-thrusted a bit longer, then hitched America's legs over his shoulders.
America cried out with excitement.
England massaged America's entrance with his wet fingers, began sticking them in slowly, one by one, preparing the younger for what was to come. He could not wait.
Then England began to penetrate America's vital region. America gasped with pleasure and anticipation, whispered England's name and held him close. England began thrusting, slowly at first, then with such a wonderfully fast pace America was shouting his name with every thrust. To make it better, England had taken America's member in his free hand – his other hand was entwined with America's, which lay on the bed next to his ear - and pumped it along with his thrusts. America's vision was white with ecstasy.
England continued to thrust harder, harder, harder, and America's screams just got louder, louder, louder. Over his own screams, America could hear England screaming as well, about what a good shag he was and whatever. America did not care what his elder was screaming, so long as he was screaming something. He had to hear that accent.
America felt England's hand tighten around his own, and he knew the time was quickly approaching. He felt his own extension throbbing painfully and knew he would soon be over, too. "Mmm, gah, Arthur, I'm gonna…" He gasped as England somehow managed to strike his prostate dead-on. Unknowing, England continued to hit that spot, and in a matter of seconds, he had came all over their stomachs.
A few seconds more, and England followed, crying out America's name. He collapsed onto the younger, both panting and sweating. "A-alfred," he whispered, taking the hand that had been stroking him off and entangling it in his hair, "if I said I loved you, would you hold it against me?"
America thought a moment, debating. "No," he said at last, "but if you said I had a hot bod I would."
When England gave him a quizzical look, America just laughed and said, "Happy Birthday, you old man."
Yeah, the vital region thing was a reference :D It made me giggle as I wrote it...I am totally falling in love with this pairing, if I haven't already...