Alright, it's almost the fourth of July so a plethora of a 'Oh-I'm-so-sad-America-left-me-on-this-day-pansy-ass-British-sob-story-that-turns-into-smut-story-when-America-decides-to-make-it-up-to-England-by-seducing-him' stories will be flooding so I decided to take a different route with my holiday story=) I think you'll like it! I hope so anyway! Happy 4th everyone!
"So you'll be at my party, right dudes?" America laughs loudly as he speaks to the rest of the allies, except England. They all agree and he gets super excited, chattering about how great it'll be. It's that time of year again, America's birthday, July fourth. America has long since given up on inviting England; it's too much work just to be let down year, after year, after year. It's too tedious for another heartbreak. So, he invites all of the other nations, letting England be his grumpy self. "Alright! It's Monday night, hope you guys aren't busy! See ya!" He winks to his friends and waves, packing up his stuff. They've just gotten out of a meeting and now he's heading home to get ready for Monday, reassuring that he has everything he needs.
England on the other hand is happy that the damned American has finally given up, but maybe it's time for him to be the mature one. Maybe he should stop acting like a little girl and get over the fact America left him. It was a mature thing to do, hell, look how far the ninny made it! He may be a dumb, hamburger-eating, narcissistic idiot, but he's also a strong country. America's actually made it quite far on his own, surpassing countries far older and more experienced than himself.
England concocts a bit of a plan this year for America's birthday...
Slowly, the weekend passes. America can hardly wait, this is gonna be his biggest party ever! He has thousands of fireworks and food and all of the nations will be there. Well, except for the exception but oh well, his loss right?
And finally, it's Monday! "Good morning world!" America sings as he jumps out of bed. He hurries to get dressed and drink his coffee before setting up his party. Everything is red, white and blue; it's perfect! And food is everywhere! It's a party fit for a king and now all that's left is too wait for evening.
Canada shows up first, thinking he can help if America needs anything. "Hey Alfred! Happy birthday!" He smiles, offering a gift to his brother.
"Thanks dude!" He laughs, taking it and motioning for the other to come in.
"So who all will be here tonight eh?" Canada pries, hoping for a certain answer.
"Pft, everyone!" America sings proudly with a loud laugh.
"Even England?" Canada asks, cocking his head slightly.
America freezes frowning slightly before bouncing right back to his normally cheerful state. "Yeah, like England would ever come to my party, he's too stuck in the past." He laughs and waves his hand dismissively, wishing to be off the subject.
The day continues, nations showing up gradually. America is psyched!
Little does America know it, but England has been agonizingly waiting for the weekend to pass as well and, after everyone has arrived, England manages to put his plan into action. He's terrified he'll be caught but can't help but focus on the reward if he's not. Now, he'll have to wait...
The night finally begins, America runs around to see all the nations and keep the party in order. The hero loves being the center of attention, absolutely loves it. Everyone invited shows up, he's surprised that everyone got the night off, just to wish him a happy birthday. He still wishes the Brit had showed up but what can he do?
Fireworks explode outside; incredibly loud and big enough to cover the whole sky in bright lights. Everyone is mystified by the display. France snuggles with Canada on the lawn, Russia teases China, even Germany comforts poor Italy who doesn't know whether to be terrified or ecstatic. Everyone is enjoying everyone's company, but poor America's company is the only one to not show. Oh well, he can't let it get him down on his birthday, it's not awesome for the hero to be sad on such a day! He stuffs his face happily while more explosions happen outside, lighting up America's home.
The day winds down to it's end and people start filtering out, some slightly drunk. Yes, America had alcohol. Soon enough, the last person to leave is Canada, wishing his brother on last happy birthday, before climbing into his car, a drunk France in the passenger seat. America himself yawns as he closes the door and looks around. "I'll clean up in the morning..." He reasons, heading to his room for the night. He opens the door, not turning on the light and pulls off his shirt.
He screams, cowering on the floor on the verge of tears as the lamp on his bedside table turns on. It's gotta be a monster, or a zombie, or...or...something! Though that does make the light questionable; any strange monster running through America's head right now wouldn't need to turn on the light.
England glares at the pathetic puddle of a man on the floor as he sits on the bed. "Ahem." He raises one bushy eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you kidding me, you bloody twit? I actually show up to wish you a happy birthday and you cry on the floor like a little girl? Perfect. Bloody perfect."
America stops his wailing and stares at the sandy blond in shock. "W-what? You came here... For me? And what are you wearing?" He notices the grumpy man sitting cross legged on his bed in a pout is wearing a T-shirt with the American flag on it and red, white and blue boxers. "I-Iggy! You did come here just for me!" He pounces him on the bed, pinning him down.
"Bloody hell Alfred, why else would I be at your house? Get off of me you wanker!" He blushes, green eyes on fire. His complaints are sealed as their lips connect. England squeaks, grabbing onto the sheets. America can't stand to break the contact, in fear the Brit will change his mind and leave him here alone. He does though, in favor of tracking his kisses all over his face then down his neck. England stops him and sits up, slipping his hands around the American's bare torso and pulls him closer. He presses their foreheads together and America laughs. "S-something funny?" He blushes, thinking he did something wrong.
"No, I'm just so happy! You've never come to my birthday party, or kissed me for that matter..." His smile never leaves.
"You kissed me you prat..." He blushes more, face completely red at this point.
"But you kissed back!" He points out happily, hugging him even closer and nuzzling his neck. He loves teasing the Brit.
England squirms at the action, trying to escape the younger's death grip. "D-damn it, let go!" He snaps and he is suddenly dropped on the bed. America crawls over him with a devious smile, straddling his hips. The sandy blond won't be so taken back by the action; his hand travels up the others thigh with a sly simper of his own. "Alfred, is that a rocket in your pocket or are you just happy I'm here?" A sadistic laugh escapes him.
America leans down so his hot breath is feathering over the Brit's ear, waiting a moment to answer so the others heart races in anticipation... "Depends on which leg..." He sits up and laughs loudly, rolling off and falling onto his own back beside England. He pulls out a firework rocket and looks to his company, who isn't happy about it in the least. He looks rather annoyed actually. Of course, the hero can fix that. "Bghhhhh... Ready for lift off commander in 3...2...1...blastoff!" America laughs, flying the rocket in front of the other.
England covers his face with his hand. "What in the name of the queen was I thinking?"
"Awww Iggy, don't be that way!" America drops his toy and rolls back on top of him, laying down this time.
"Get off of me you twit!" England barks, embarrassed he thought he could even try this with someone so immature. Once again, his complaints are muffled by the soft lips of the American. He's completely at a loss and, as he sees it, has no choice but to enter into the younger's battle. His tongue slips out to meet the others, twisting his fingers into his hair as he does so to pull him down harder.
America moans softly, moving his hands to the elder's colorful boxers and a smirk sneaks into the kiss as he remembers what the Brit looks like dressed as he is, all for him. He situates himself and pulls them off; England gasps, now exposed to the cool air. The American sits up, a temporary string of saliva connecting their mouths.
England on the other hand, has to resist from both shielding himself and stopping the other as his hands slide to the insides of his thighs, opening his legs. He turns 10 different shades of red in a moment and looks away, gripping the sheets beneath him. America makes a lewd movement with his tongue that England doesn't miss however, and promptly punishes him with a foot to that beautiful face. Unfortunately for him, his weapon is captured. He flails, but the younger has him by the ankle, an evil smirk gracing his face. That can't be good.
America sees this as an opportunity. He runs his free hand up the inside of the Brit's leg and licks his foot. The others eyes widen at the motion and he attempts to kick him again. He lets out a low laugh and continues up the inside of his leg; biting, licking, kissing as the other fights back, somewhat weak from the sensations. Finally he's between England's small thighs and he gives a dangerous smile, blue eyes glittering with victory.
England drops his head back onto the bed in defeat and waits for the other to make his move. Instead, America pulls his shirt off, staring at the delicious sight of the completely naked Brit beneath him.
The sandy blond glares at him, sitting up to kiss him again, allowing his hands to sneak down to his backside. A stifled noise escapes the American and his hand wraps around the others length in reciprocation.
It's England's turn to sigh in pleasure, breaking the kiss as the hand works steadily. He sneaks his own hands to the button of the others jeans. America is all too happy to oblige, shimmying them off along with his own boxers. Out of no where, he hugs the lithe Brit close, their bodies flush.
England's face gets even darker, if that's possible. "Wh...What the hell are you doing?" He asks, though there's no spite in his words.
America laughs. "Hugging you Iggy, it's a way to show affection."
England blinks. "I know that much, Alfred! And My name is Arthur." There was the missing spite, it was just late. America laughs again, pulling back to kiss the grump once more, though it was chaste.
He released the Brit and crawled over to his bed side table, pulling a bottle of lube out of the drawer. The other flushes and glares at him.
"Why the bloody hell would you have that? I raised you better!" He snaps at the younger.
"Oh this is just an awkward time to bring that up, eh Iggy?" He laughs again.
England is now flustered thinking about what he'd said. He shakes all thoughts out and takes the bottle from the other, though he promptly pounces in order to retrieve it.
"It's my birthday!" America argues, laying on top of him.
"Exactly! Sit back and relax!" England's eyes darkened with a mix between evil and lust. Defeated, the younger rolls off onto his back, allowing the other to sit between his legs.
England smirks, slicking up his fingers and watches victoriously as he slides the first one into the others entrance. America watches, slightly red in the face. The Brit works diligently, adding a second in only a matter of time and moving them in and out. His free hand strokes America's member, easily distracting him and adds a third, pushing them all the way in. America tenses at the pain and moans at the pleasure; quite a show for the elder.
Instead of adding a fourth, England decides to put him out of his misery. He slicks himself up and, before entering him, leans forward and kisses him on the lips first then down to his neck where he's sure to leave a dark mark on the untouched skin.
Hands on the others hips, he pushes into him slowly. "Just move..." America manages through a clenched jaw, obviously ready to get moving, or so to speak.
England happily complies, pushing all the way in. He pulls out and kisses him once more , instantly sending out his tongue. When the other hesitates, obviously not good at multitasking, he snaps his hips and the other moans, allowing his tongue entrance.
America leans back on his hands, kissing the Brit hard and curling his toes into the sheet beneath. England moves faster, beginning to pant in pleasure. He emits soft noises and grunts every time he hits back into his lover. He aims slightly, never deterring his speed, and the other resists the urge to scream into his mouth. They break contact, panting with saliva running down their chins. The Brit's eyes are dazed, watching the others face as it contorts in pleasure. He runs soft, lazy kisses down his chest, purring at the tight heat. Sweat begins forming over his body, along with America's.
He leans forward and licks at his neck, enjoying the sight of America under his control. Then he does something England isn't expecting. He grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers and looks at him with a soft look in his blue orbs. England almost forgets what he was doing, slowing a bit as he marvels at the sweet gesture.
America rolls his hips against England's and he finally snaps back to reality, regaining his speed. With his free hand he strokes the others weeping member. He speeds up as much as he can, breaths ragged and his heart pounding. America's vocals are getting a work out as he mewls to every thrust, obviously nearing his end.
England can feel himself getting close as well, closer than he thought. He moves his hand faster, making the other get louder. His breaths are labored but definitely worth it. "Iggy..." He pants. "Ar...thur... I'm-!" He releases over himself and his lover's hand, tightening around him.
"Alfred!" He purrs, much more dignified and fills the other with sticky heat. America pulls him into himself and kisses him softly, arms wrapping around his neck.
England returns the gesture, wrapping his arms around his lower torso. They both collapse in the others embrace and the Brit pulls out of the younger who whimpers at the empty feeling. "Happy birthday Alfred." He pants softly.
"I love you Iggy!" He hugs him tighter, nuzzling into his chest like a child. "Thanks, that was the best birthday present by far..." He snickers into his chest.
"Alfred I love you too..." -snore- America's asleep. Oh well, at least it's out there. "Happy birthday, you idiot."
Happy Fourth of July! Yes, it's a few days early but I won't have time for it this weekend! Cheesy story is cheesy but again, it's not a 'Oh-I'm-so-sad-America-left-me-on-this-day-pansy-ass-British-sob-story-that-turns-into-smut-story-when-America-decides-to-make-it-up-to-England-by-seducing-him' story =) Hope you guys like the twist ^^ Make a writer's day, read and review! Danke!