Summery: Alfred asks the looming question about his roommate that's been bugging him for weeks now; "Artie, are you a virgin?" let's just say, things get a little awkward between the pair. One-shot
Pairing: America/England, Human names used. (AU)
Warning: Rated T for Arthur's mouth, and Alfred's... skill...
Forgot about this. It was on my phone for a few days, and then I found it... I hope you enjoy it as much as I did re-reading it x3
"Artie, are you a virgin?" Arthur Kirkland's roommate, an annoying blond American by the name of Alfred F. Jones asked suddenly, shocking the Brit.
"W-what?" Arthur sputtered indignantly, green eyes wide as saucers. "Why the bloody hell would you ask something like that?"
"Well," Alfred paused for a moment, as though trying to come up with a valid excuse for his own perverse curiosity. "You always seemed like a prude. So, are you?"
Arthur glared at his roommate—they had been such for nearly two and a half years now—which made the cerulean-eyed American squirm a bit. "I don't see why this matters!" He growled as he set his book off to the side, sensing that he wasn't about to read it anytime soon. Then, he stood and headed towards the kitchen, muttering under his breath, "you right foul git, asking personal questions like that…"
He began gathering things to make himself another pot of tea—along with two Tylenol; he could feel a headache coming on, thanks to a certain American idiot, who happened to have followed him into the kitchen.
"Come on, Artie!" Alfred whined, cornering him. "Why can't you just tell me?"
"Why is this so important to you?" Arthur asked as one of his massive eyebrows raised almost comically towards his hairline. Alfred would have laughed, were he not on a mission. "It's my virginity…"
Alfred didn't speak, as though he were seriously considering the question, before beaming. "Because I want to know who didn't respect your innocence!" He declared. "That's what I do! I protect the innocent, because I'm the hero!"
Arthur ducked under Alfred's arm, chuckled affectionately at the 'hero's' antics, and meandered back into the living room.
"My innocence died when my mum left." The Brit called over his shoulder, sitting on the couch again.
"But are you?" Alfred plopped onto the couch beside him. "A virgin, I mean."
Arthur sighed, assuming Alfred wouldn't leave him alone unless he answered. "Yes." He replied. "I am. Why?"
"Have you ever had those feelings towards another?" Arthur blinked at Alfred, confused. There was only a look of childish curiosity in those cerulean eyes, but something in his voice seemed to almost sound… desperate? Was Alfred a virgin? It most certainly would describe the way he was acting.
"What the hell is this, twenty questions?" Arthur chuckled quietly, just trying to ease the awkward tension. "Yes, I have."
"Why didn't you go for it?" Alfred scooted closer, eyes wide.
"He didn't feel that way for me." Arthur shrugged as though it meant nothing to him. However, that question was difficult to answer; Alfred was the man Arthur was speaking about.
"So… You didn't risk it." Alfred stated, before his eyes brightened. "I'll teach you how to do it correctly!"
"W-what?" Arthur squeaked out as his face turned a bright pink. "Why?"
"So the next time you have those feelings, you can just go for it!" Alfred responded cheerily, as though he wasn't about to molest his roommate. "Their reaction to what I teach you will tell you if they like you or not!"
Alfred was suddenly dangerously close to Arthur, his hand resting uncomfortably close to his crotch. The former's face was seemingly innocent, though his eyes sparkled mischievously. He squeezed Arthur's leg gently, causing the Brit to take a sharp breath.
"Hush." Alfred said softly, winking. "Just pay attention." A pause, as his other hand reached up to play with the hair on the back of Arthur's neck. "That is, if you can."
Before Arthur could even think of what was going to happen next—not that he could have thought about anything with Alfred's thumb rubbing circles on his inner thigh—Alfred was straddling his lap, hands never leaving their positions. Arthur swore that his heart stopped working about then.
"You have to make them feel special." He whispered in the Brit's ear, his warm breath tickling his skin so that shivers of pleasure involuntarily made their way down Arthur's spine. "Tell them things like…" He moved his lips down to his neck, sucking and nibbling gently between words. "You're so-" nibble. "-beautiful-" suck. "-and amazing."
Arthur let out a whine as Alfred's voice grew deeper, huskier with each word. An unwanted whimper escaped his lips as Alfred squeezed his thigh suddenly, and his lips trailed up to Arthur's earlobe, biting gently.
Arthur wanted to say something, to beg the American to stop, but the fact that his pants were suddenly very constricting prevented him from doing so, purely out of embarrassment. Besides, Alfred could probably already feel it.
"Arthur?" Alfred slid off of Arthur onto the couch beside him, and waited a moment for the breathless male to say something—anything.
Finally; "Get the fuck back here, and finish what you bloody started."
Alfred smirked, though obeyed, happy that his plan had worked.
Arthur woke with a massive headache, along with some pain in certain... Ahem... Other places. A loud groan, and he rolled over, which resulted in him falling right off the couch.
"Fuck!" Arthur cursed, shaking his head slowly. "We didn't even make it to the bedroom?"
"Nope." Alfred's tired voice sounded from the couch, and he rolled over a bit to glance down at his lover with a soft smile. "You hurt?"
"You failed to mention that it would hurt this fucking much." Arthur growled, eyes narrowed.
"I can take your mind off of that little fact." Alfred said, his voice taking on a gravelly edge that set Arthur's skin on fire.
Needless to say, Arthur was even more sore the next morning.