. . . .

12:32 / 12:32 p.m.
. . . .

Alfred Jones placed his hand in the middle first, an excited yet devilish smile playing on his lips.

"We're gonna get laid."

Another hand lay on top of his, accompanied with a huff. Arthur Kirkland rolled his eyes; his friend always had such a blunt way of putting things.

"You don't have to be so curt about these sort of things. But yes, we are going to lose our virginity."

A larger hand joined the other two in the pile. Francis Bonnefoy let out a puff of air that moved a stray hair from his face. If Alfred was curt, then Arthur was a real tightass. Honestly, the French student considered himself the most sane of either of his suite-mates. Besides, what was this 'we' business?

"Then I'll say it more tastefully, since neither of you have any class. Ce nuit, c'est la nuit que nous devenons hommes, et ils deviennent femmes."

"Oh, speak English, Frog!"

"Make me. Did you remember to unclog the drain this morning? Those brows can make such a mess after you tweeze-"

"Shut the fuck up, how do I know it's not your shitty beard!?"

"Jesus, guys, how about you both just fuck and get it over with?"

Alfred shook his head. God, his roommates were always at each other's throats. For some reason, he'd been friends with these guys since freshman year, and now, as sophomores, they were all living together. University in England (let alone Europe) was rather challenging, but when you're the transfer student from New York, you look for just about any companion.

...and these guys weren't all bad. Otherwise, Alfred wouldn't be living with them. He smiled at his friends, who were still bickering.

"Are we gonna throw our hands in the air, or are we just gonna stand around yelling about body hair?"

Arthur and Francis scowled, tossing their hands up along with Alfred. And the plan had been initiated; Alfred's plan. As the American had put it the night before, they were in college now. It was supposed to be fun and exciting, educational and inspirational...and they were supposed to have parties. Meet girls, or in Alfred's mind, Euro-hotties, a phrase that made Arthur roll his eyes and Francis bark a laugh.

"Alright. Artie, you're-"

"I told you not to call me that."

"Artie. You're in charge of decorating. This place needs to be totally pimped out for chicks. Candles, flowers, I dunno, girly shit. Make 'em feel at home. Francis, you bring wine...or something."

Arthur snapped his gaze over to his American roommate, squinting.

"Are you insinuating we're going to get them drunk? I like a good drink as much as the next guy, but-"

"Nah, dude, it's for us! Loosen us up, ya know? We'll be more smooth. I'm not some prick..."

The Frenchman nodded. Wine was certainly something he could acquire.

"And if the lovely women we invite wish for a drink, than how could we possibly say no?"

Arthur looked between the two, sighing. These idiots...Alfred was tolerable, but Francis? Francis could just fall in a hole and die. He could burn, he could drown, he could...he could get expelled.

"Well, Alfred, if we're out doing these errands in preparation, what exactly is your job?"

The tallest of the blondes laughed heartily, adjusting his glasses and pointing to himself.

"I'm gonna be the one that tells people to come! I'll spread the word and this place'll be crawling with chicks by the end of the night. And if none of us have sex, at least we'll have laid down some groundwork, right?"

"Oui."

"...right."

"Right! Lets get to to work!"

. . . . .

"Will this be all, sir?"

"...y-yes."

Arthur couldn't meet eyes with the cashier, the items she was scanning through being totally embarrassing. Four bouquets of roses, seven scented candles, and three boxes of condoms (one for each of them). The last of which was his own idea...better safe than sorry, right? Arthur had guessed Alfred's size, knew his own, and intentionally selected 'Extra-Small' for his good chum Francis. Now if only this checkout girl wasn't a girl...or a cute one.

Why were they even doing this? This whole plan was so juvenile, like something out of a film. Sex would come when it came, the right girl would when she did...or...or maybe guy. Arthur still wasn't quite sure about that just yet. In any case, he knew that he could find a man as appealing as a woman. Alfred had very nice eyes, for example...everyone was attractive in their own way.

Except Francis, of course. God had taken a pile of shit, sculpted it, and boom, his asshole of a suite-mates had been born.

He looked up from the ground as she read out the total, flushing a bit as he rummaged through his wallet and handed over the appropriate bills. Change was received, a 'Thank you' was mumbled, and Arthur was out the door in record time.

They better fucking thank him for this.

. . .

Wait...oh damn it. Arthur turned on a heel and went back in, feeling nervous all over again. They might need food...Chex-Mix should do.

. . . .

"Bonjour, Camille. As beautiful as ever."

The raven-haired woman turned, grinning at the sight of the blonde man at the door.

"Francis! It's been awhile. Lack of dates?"

"Never, ma cherie."

Francis kissed her hand, receiving a giggle in response. While she wasn't attending the same university, Camille certainly worked close enough (her parent's liquor store) for the two to remain close. They had been friends for ages...friends with benefits, actually, at least if neither was seeing anyone.

They'd actually been each other's first back in high school, but nevertheless. The blonde continued to kiss up her arm, to which Camille lightly smacked the top of Francis' head.

"I don't get off until six."

"Are you certain? I could make it right now, if you wish."

"Francis, you're ridiculous!"

The two laughed, sharing a quick kiss. Camille took Francis by the collar, tugging him behind the counter with a mischievous smile.

"I have to take inventory, though. Why don't you help me? Papa won't be back for another two hours.

"Oh, did Edward not work out?"

"These Brits don't know what they're doing, Francis."

"Yet another thing we can probably agree on."

The two disappeared into the storeroom. A gentle 'click' came from the door; the sound of a very firm lock.

. . . .

"Hey ladies!"

The brunettes looked up from their conversation as a tall blonde sped towards them.

"Hey, how's it goin'? Listen, me and a couple buddies are throwin' a party tonight. We've got the booze if you bring the beauty. Sound good?"

The girls looked at this person, then to each other and laughed. Alfred smiled, putting up a hand in retreat.

"Thanks anyway!"

That was the fifth time...Jesus. Oh well. Maybe the American was going about this all wrong. Oh, there was a blonde chick with pigtails. Wasn't she in his Calculusclass? Yeah, Angela or something! She was pretty cute...kinda quiet, but Arthur might like her.

"Hey, Angela!"

The girl froze, turning, books tight in her hands as the one who called her approached.

"My suite-mates and I are throwing a party. You wanna come?"

Angela shook her head and bolted off...well...alright then. Make that six times then. Alfred sighed, kicking a rock and moving along the sidewalk. There were hundreds of girls on campus, at least three of them had to be willing to drop by!

The sound of a giggle caught his ear. The American looked over, seeing a girl grinning stupidly. Some guy was whispering in her ear...oh, yeah, that was Feli...Felici...something. He was from Italy, that much Alfred knew. Ugh, look at him, all smooth and whatnot. Kissing her forehead, making that girl all blushy. That guy had skills. He could learn a thing or two from him...if he knew him better, of course. Too bad he didn't have a cool accent like Arthur or Francis.

Oh, maybe those chicks over there? Perfect! They looked cool, talking and whatever. Now to just-

. . .

Alfred turned away, taking his mission elsewhere. Considering the way the two hotties had started making out (awesome as it was), they probably wouldn't fit in in a room full of horny college guys.

Son of a bitch.

. . . .
21:02 / 9:02 p.m.
. . . .

"..."

"..."

"...well this turned out pretty much exactly how I thought it would."

Arthur broke up the silence, bitterly speaking at the bottle of wine on their coffee table. Candles burned, roses were everywhere, and the bottle was unopened. The only people in the suite were the ones that actually lived in it. Alfred threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

"It's not my fault nobody came!"

"Yes it is! 'I'm the one who'll get people to come' and nobody's fucking here, dumbass! And you."

Arthur turned the conversation to Francis, yanking the wine bottle up and shaking it a little.

"How in the hell did you get Bordeaux on our budget?"

"I won a contest."

"Ugh..."

And they were off again. Alfred sighed, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Damn it, what was it? Were they not attractive or something? Were British girls immune to British accents? All accents? Arthur had a great accent...now if only he wouldn't call him so many names. Francis had a nice one, too, but...eh. It was kinda nasally compared his tastes. He sat up suddenly, shouting loudly to break up the fight.

"Look, we all fucked up, okay? We have wine that no one's gonna drink anytime soon, all these candles and flowers and shit, and I didn't get anybody here. There's no need to fight. Lets just call it an early night. At least it's Saturday, right?"

Francis sat up, gesturing to the Bordeaux.

"Just because there are no women does not mean this fine delicacy should go to waste. I'll go get glasses for you and I. Arthur, I'll bring you a shot glass. We all know you can't hold it down."

Arthur shot up, hands balled at his sides.

"Fuck you, shit-beard, I can hold my alcohol! I don't even need a glass!"

He took the Bordeaux and popped the cork, swigging it back before Alfred could stop him. Damn, this shit was good. Alfred snatched away the wine and set it on the table, huffing at Francis.

"Jesus, why do you provoke him? I don't wanna carry him to bed again!"

"Then don't! Eyebrows can take care of himself!"

The long-haired man took the bottle by the neck, throwing back some himself. This was a very undignifed way of drinking such a fine beverage, but damn it, all of this made him want a drink right now. He could hear Alfred groaning. Francis released the bottle, wiping his lips gently as he passed the it off to his friend.

"Go ahead. We've abandoned responsibility tonight, you might as well."

"Hurry the fuck up, I want another drink, you...you tossers."

Alfred snatched the bottle and threw it back. Lord knew he would need it, what with all this shit going on now.

. . . .
22:42 / 10:42 p.m.
. . . .

"This is'a one-off, you fuckin'...shit, help me with my tie."

Arthur was struggling with his tie, Alfred was in a wrestling match with his own pants, and the only thing left on Francis was a pair of boxers. The three drunk boys had made a decision about fifteen minutes ago and were all in Arthur's room now (seeing as it was the neatest). Francis reached forward, undoing the knot with ease

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, c'mere, why do you even wear the tie? I'snot required."

"B'cause I like lookin' nice, fuck me. No, fuck you...shit, you know wha' I mean."

About to have sex and still arguing. Even if he was hammered, Alfred had to laugh. How exactly would they do this? He hadn't expected Arthur to suggest sex ("Why don' we jus' fuck each other?") and he certainly hadn't suspected that he'd agree to it ("Fuck yes"). Finally, the damn pants were off. He approached Arthur from behind and started kissing at his neck. He'd certainly fooled around with enough girls to know this was a good thing to do, a great way to start. He'd just never gone all the way, was all.

The light moan he got out of Arthur was a sign that this was going to go differently, however. The Brit's hand reached up, caressing Alfred's cheek as he turned around, the full-on kiss he gave him being a bit sloppy, but in Alfred's opinion, pretty damn good. A bit strange, coming from Arthur of all people, but good.

"Mm, Alfred's goin' to be far betta than you, Shit-Breath."

Francis, very tipsy himself (though very much up for this threesome) wobbled over to the two and yanked Arthur away. He pulled Alfred into a kiss. The fact all of them had about the same amount of wine negated the apparent 'shit-breath' symptom. After a few moments of holding Alfred in place (the American was very much enjoying this idea now), he drew back.

"...no 'e's not..."

He released his friend's shoulders, moving to Arthur instead, kissing him rather roughly. The response was overwhelming; the way Arthur's arms flew around the Frenchman's shoulders knocked the two onto the bed, Arthur on top. His trousers weren't even off yet, but he was grinding against Francis like nothing. Alfred watched them moan and...dry-hump for just a moment before moving to the bed. He pushed Arthur off onto his back and took it from there, unbuttoning the Brit's shirt. He was swatted away by a French hand, which gestured below the belt. The American nodded, watching Francis take Arthur's lips again, and also seeing how hungry Arthur was in taking it. Alfred saw that his friend was already getting kinda hard...and just Francis had done that? Alfred was his friend after all...

The blonde peered through his glasses, pulling Arthur's pant below his ankles and palming him through his boxers. The Brit cried out softly into Francis' mouth, only causing him to be a bit more feisty. His hips bucked, asking for more, which Alfred obliged him with. Meanwhile, Francis' hand was busy threading through Arthur's hair, his lips moving to his neck, sucking and nipping small spots, eliciting small moans. The messy-haired blonde could hardly take all the stimulation. His hand groped around until he found Francis' crotch, fondling his erection through the fabric. The Frenchman hissed, taking Arthur by the hips and switching their positions. The Brit was straddling Francis all over again, smirking down as he lifted himself up, losing the boxers and already working on Francis. Alfred went back to kissing Arthur again, hands free.

"We go'any lube?"

"My room."

"I'would be in your room, you perverte' swine."

Alfred was the one who hurried out, scrambled through Francis' room until he found a small bottle and headed back. Francis and Arthur were rubbing their cocks together desperately. Alfred frowned, pushing Arthur off.

"Don' start without me!"

"Oh...'m'sorry, Alfred, we wasn't thinking...sorry."

Arthur's apology was slurred as he embraced Alfred lazily. He gave a him a quick kiss, patting him on the back.

"You got the lube? Oh...oh, you're the bes', isn' 'e the bes' Francis?"

"...'s my lube...

The American wasted no time in slathering his fingers with the lube, warming it up a bit before bending Arthur over and slipping a digit in. The Brit flinched but eventually relaxed, so Alfred went ahead and put another in, slowly moving them in and out of his friend. Francis watched Arthur moan whorishly before leaning forward and kissing him again.

"Jus' fuckin' do it, Francis ge' over here."

Arthur pushed Francis away at the same time Alfred began readying himself, coating his own cock with lube before slowly burying himself into the Brit. Arthur clenched, fingers digging into the sheets until he loosened up.

"G-go."

And Alfred started to move. Was this lube heated? God, it felt like it. He tapped Francis' hip between a moan, opening his mouth and staring up at him. Within seconds, Arthur had not one, but two cocks inside him, sucking off Francis' and feeling Alfred's thrusting into him hard. Alfred's hands were clutching his hips, one of Francis' was holding his head in place. The Frenchman and the American were leaning over the friend they were sharing, kissing very messily. Alfred took charge and reached around for Arthur's cock. The moan that shook around Francis' length nearly finished him off right then.

He took Francis out of his mouth, moaning out demands.

"Harder, A-Al, fuck me ah fuck, yes, God-"

Francis went right back in, and Arthur talked around him, taking almost his entire cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue round the head.

"'ou li'e 'his?"

Those big green eyes stared up at him, glazed over with a lust Francis never thought would be in them. Who would have thought the guy with a massive stick up his ass would need it there, but moving back and forth repeatedly?

Alfred pulled out, closing his eyes and panting. His cock was flushed and dripping, looking to Francis. The Frenchman nodded, tapping Arthur's head to tell him to stop. Arthur sat up, looking between the two rapidly. He was hoisted up very suddenly, moaning as it was now Francis' filling him up. He could feel his beard whisking around, tickling his back as he raised and lowered Arthur onto his cock. He and Alfred felt about the same size, so that was just fantastic to him. That, and the fact Francis was sitting up made it much easier to just sink onto him.

The blonde-beared man moaned, loving the tightness of Arthur. Alfred had Arthut at his best, though, and for that the American could never be forgiven. Speaking of Alfred, he had come over to take the Brit's cock in his mouth, leading Arthur's hand to his own aching erection. Just a bit more...it probably wouldn't be very long for any of them, at this point.

Arthur was moaning and screaming the both of their names louder by the second, thrusting into Alfred's mouth and forcing himself down to the base of Francis' dick, stroking Alfred's quickly.

"I'm going...Al...F-Francis...fuck...fuck-"

Alfred readied himself just in time, the cum catching mostly in his cheek, and he swallowed it down before he really knew what sort of taste it had. Everything tasted like wine right now, anyway. Arthur came hard, his muscles going rigid and setting Francis off. He released himself inside the Brit, lifting him just a few more times before he was spent and set him onto the bed. Alfred's hand went to his own cock before Arthur smacked it away, sheathing the member with his lips. Alfred moaned at the sudden wet heat, only to be silenced by Francis' kiss.

"He's...he's actually rather goo' at tha', isn't he?"

The Frenchman went back to kissing Alfred, who moaned into him until Arthur's work was done. Arthur swallowed his friend's release easily, bringing himself off with a gasp.

Everyone looked ridiculously tired. The three blondes glanced to one another, panting softly, and then...

. . . .
13:42 / 1:42 p.m.
. . . .

They had slept. They had slept, had lunch in silence, and were now sitting in their suite, a drained bottle of wine resting on it's side on the coffee table.

"..."

"..."

"...I refuse to believe that it was my idea."

"It totally fucking was, Arthur!"

"You attacked me, mon cher."

"Would you stop fucking calling me that? I am not your mon cher!"

"You did attack him, Arthur. You're a worse tease than half the chicks I've ever ...no...all of the chicks I've ever dated. And about ten times as horny."

"Oh, fuck the both of you!"

"You did."

"Argh!"


This should be the part where I say I'm sorry, but I'm really not. Hope you liked.