Disclaimer: Don't own APH.

A/N: Hi, it's 11/2016, and I'm putting the full fic back up here. Thanks for reading.

Pairings: Main Scotland/England.

Warnings: None.



Arthur hated cigarettes at the best of times. They made the whole room smell like a furnace, and they dropped ash all over the place, and were not only bad for you but also all the poor bitches around you.

Kieran smoked. A lot. Like, to the point that Arthur would stink of them even after taking those ridiculously long bubble baths he fancied, complete with girly scented bubble formula and salts. Honestly, rose? What self-respecting man could bathe with rose scented soap? Kieran probably thought he was doing the Briton a favor, making it seem like even though Arthur took ridiculously long, rose-scented bubble baths, he smoked while doing it. Not that Arthur did actually smoke; once upon a time, he could have burned through fifteen packs a day, but now he avoids the things.

"Beggars can't be choosers," Kieran had cackled, dialect mangling his words to the point that Arthur had to squint and lean forward to try and understand him. "And it's better to reek like a chain-smoker than the pansy you are."

That was how Kieran answered everything - in an accent too thick to decipher, which usually just led to Arthur agreeing out of sheer irritation.

But even though his house, his bed, and soon his bubble bath - oh, lord forbid the bubble bath smell like anything other than flowers! - would be stinking of cigarette smoke and no doubt giving various diseases to all who came within three meters of the stuff (like radioactivity, really, except that smoking around a cockroach wouldn't mutate it) Arthur didn't really have any reason to draw the line on his brother and kinda-sorta boyfriend of more years than he'd like to admit living through.

Well, till now, anyway.

"What," hissed the Briton, "the fuck are you doing?"

Kieran responded by blowing smoke against the blonde's lower back.

"Smoking. As for you, I'm pretty sure you were about to give me the blow of my life."

Arthur squawked indignantly from where he was, sprawled in only a v-neck shirt over his fully-clothed brother (his pants hung off one leg) with both slim hands on Kieran's belt buckle. He had indeed been about to yank it down when he'd heard the insufferable and telltale clicking of Kieran's favorite lighter.

"Precisely. Why?" fumed Arthur, twisting around to sneer at his boyfriend. "Do you or do you not want me to suck you off?"

Kieran waved him off. "Of course I do. Why would you ask such a stupid question?" He gestured to his lap, though Arthur looked furious. "Would you kindly get back to work?"

The blonde huffed under his breath (something about rude bloody Scots. No surprise there.) but pulled down the zip and eased Kieran's dick out of his pants. Perhaps a little too tightly, he gripped the base and jerked his hand up and down; perhaps too roughly, he scraped his teeth against the top. The whole time, he grumbled like a mad hatter; Kieran's groan as Arthur took the tip into his mouth drowned out the grumbles of an infuriated Briton who, even as he bobbed his head down to deepthroat the other guy, wouldn't shut up about the cruel injustice of it all.

Now, Arthur was, to put it bluntly, pretty damn amazing with his mouth. It didn't take long for Kieran to start grunting and bucking and reaching down to try and speed Arthur's head movements...with the hand holding the cigarette. Maybe it was just because he'd only been breathing nasally for the past few minutes, but inhaling the smoke at such close range brought tears to Arthur's eyes. He gagged, even though he never gagged, and pulled his mouth away so that he could hack off to the side. A snicker made him turn back, still gathering his bearings, and see Kieran with a very pleased smirk on his angular face.

"You – are such – a prick!" wheezed out poor Arthur, coughing till Kieran took pity and leaned over to whack him on the back (perhaps a bit harder than necessary, but who cared about those minor details? Besides, Arthur looked good with reddened lips and a pained expression.)

A couple seconds later, Arthur jerked forward in surprise as something hot and wet probed around his rear end, large hands gripping his hips to keep them in place as Kieran licked teasingly around his asshole, delving his tongue in and around and sending hard shudders through Arthur's body. "You like that, don't you?" he leered as Arthur pushed back, grabbing Kieran's cock and running his fingers up and down. He pressed his tongue inside again, but pulled away too soon; Arthur sighed at the soft popping sound of a bottle being uncapped, before Kieran dripped cool gel onto his fingers.

"I smell cherry. Kieran, are you using cherry lube?"

"Maybe. I don't know, I grabbed it from the bathroom. See, this is yet another sign of how girly you are."

"See, this is yet another...shut the fuck up, Kieran," scowled Arthur, bending and sliding Kieran's spit-slick cock back into his throat. Kieran slipped in a finger to the first knuckle, and kept it there until Arthur elbowed him in the face; pushing in another two in one go, the redhead slapped Arthur's thighs in warning and hissed an order not to move as he scissored his fingers, taking care to avoid Arthur's sweet spot.

Two minutes later, Arthur stopped sucking completely, breathing heavily and rutting back shamelessly as Kieran pushed four long fingers in and out of him. Kieran was such a bastard, just barely grazing his prostate with one arm wrapped around Arthur's stomach to keep him in place. "Why are you so fidgety, Arthur?"

"Why are you such a fucking control freak?"

"You love it."

"That has nothing to do with anything."

Then Kieran groaned and pulled Arthur off, flipping him over and climbing on top of him before straightening up and yanking his shirt over his head. Arthur leaned forward and kissed along Kieran's muscular torso, grabbing the shirt from his brother and throwing it somewhere – very possibly out a window, but who cared? Kieran smirked, spreading Arthur's legs wide apart and slamming into him hard enough to quite possibly tear something. Stars danced behind Arthur's eyelids, and his gasps crescendoed with each powerful thrust until he was screaming, nails scratching and drawing blood from Kieran's back. He jerked, and felt something warm land on his collarbone and realized that the bastard still had that damned cigarette balanced precariously between his lips. Ash fell onto Arthur and the bedsheets with each rough jerk of Kieran's hips.

"P-put that bloody - ooh, there, there! Oh god, god, yes, give it to me, fuck! Put t-that bloody thing out so I can fucking kiss you!" he managed to choke out, wrapping his legs tight around Kieran's waist and pulling him closer, half-lidded eyes furious.

"Why waste a fag?" grunted the redhead, holding his cigarette in two fingers and grabbing Arthur's hip. The Briton responded by threading his hands in Kieran's fiery hair and pulling him down into a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Slipping his tongue into Arthur's mouth (which was harder than you might think; Arthur had his teeth clenched both because he was pissed and because he was trying to hold back an orgasm), the Scot reached his other hand down between their bodies and started pumping the smaller man's throbbing dick in time with his quick, rough thrusts. Arthur arched up into his touch, pressing their hot bodies flush against each other. Breaking the kiss, a thin strand of saliva still connecting their lips, Kieran licked and nipped his way down Arthur's jaw and bared throat, settling at his collarbone and biting down hard enough to draw blood.

Arthur's scream cut off unnaturally into a ragged choke, his back bent almost unnaturally and chest curved against Kieran as he came. Thighs shuddering and insides hypersensitive from the force of his orgasm, he clung to Kieran like a lifeline as the other man sped up impossibly more. "N-no, no, you fucker! Don't – argh!"

The muscles convulsing around Kieran pulled him over and he came with a low keen, filling up Arthur's insides and grinning lewdly as he pulled out. White dripped onto the sweat-and-come-stained sheets after his cock, and Arthur whacked him upside the head. Wincing, he climbed into Kieran's lap and buried his head underneath the other man's chin, completely content to stay there for a few hours, especially as Kieran lay down and sprawled out on his back. Sure, they were all gross and sweaty, and the laundry was piling up, and Arthur was pretty sure that they had either missed a world or governmental meeting (or, if it was really an awful day, both), and his favorite black-and-white v-neck was too drenched with sweat and come (like those sheets and bedcovers which he was most definitely not washing) to salvage, and there was a dark scraping along the wall where the headboard had gouged holes in it, and the headboard itself was broken, but as he lay there with Kieran – who still panted from the exertion, heart racing fast enough for Arthur to hear - he really didn't mind.

Especially cuz, hey, he sure as fuck wasn't doing the laundry, and was there really anything better than making your boyfriend wash the sheets he fucked you in while you sat, embroidered, and watched soaps on the telly? Arthur didn't think so.

Yep. Truly a beautiful moment...until a certain smell pervaded the air.

The neighbors, if they hadn't gone and run far, far away by then, facepalmed at the furious scream pervading the air.