deegeeak | [Fic] Rosa part 5

Title: Rosa Part 5
Beta:

doomy_slasher
Characters/Pairing: America/England
Rating: R
Warning: Part of the Power Exchange AU. BDSM, fantasies.
Summary: Alfred gets a clue, and Arthur gets laid much to everyone's relief.

Arthur wanted to hit the idiot upside the head. He wanted to deliver a scathing lecture on propriety and what it meant to ask that sort of question to someone like himself. And 'It'd make me feel better?' The hell was he going on about? Instead of saying that or ignoring Alfred all together, his mouth moved and said "All right."

And didn't Alfred just cheer right up.

He couldn't take it back now, not with that sudden look of happiness directed at him. Not that he wanted to or anything.

There was a brief moment of awkward moving about and banging into each other. It was defiantly not the smoothest he'd ever been tied up, that was for sure. At one point he'd had to bark out that he was no piece of meat and to stop poking him thank you very much.

Before too long however, Arthur was lying comfortably back on the bed's pillows, body tilted slightly forwards and his arms tied behind his back again. His chest was bare, as Alfred had quietly removed his shirt, not responding to his questioning look.

He glanced over at the humming blond. Alfred reached out and gently ran his hand down Arthur's bare chest. He rolled his eyes. He may no longer be an empire, but he was still an Imperial Rose.

"Prat."

Annoyed blue eyes tilted up at him. "What now?"

Arthur hated having to tell doms what to do. He rather liked being the one being told what to do - there was a distinct freedom in being helpless. "Alfred this isn't going to work if you keep treating me like glaaaaahg!"

Alfred bit down hard on his neck. Arthur jerked and took a deep breath. God and Queen, he wanted this to be real.

It was glorious. Sea-salt and small sleepy villages, bitter black British tea and something oh so Arthur sparked over his tongue. He bit down again and felt the body under him jolt again and saw the throat try and fail to hold back the little pleased noises.

God Alfred wanted more of this. As much of it as he could get - and more.

"I wonder what would happen if I did this." Alfred grinned. Finally Arthur was under him, tied up (with pillowcases, shut up he'd made do) and wanting him. He started to move down the other's chest, kissing and biting as he went. One tan hand reached up and began to twist and tease a nipple while he took the opportunity to lash the other with his mouth. Trapped between the two sensations Arthur lurched beneath him.

"Nngh," was the response. Alfred smirked and twisted again, liking the noises boiling out of his Arthur. This was exactly what he'd wanted, Arthur with his eyes gone dark and body restrained beneath him. This was what he'd wanted since before he was old enough to put into words what he wanted. This was worth waiting over four hundred years for.

Hot, wet warmth, and a sharp twisting pain that sent sparks flying through him, just this side of electric. Arthur liked having his nipples played with - always had. He had a whole collection of clamps, and twists and ties from the very simple to the fantastically elaborate. He'd used them on himself and had them used on him by other people more often than he could count. The one time he'd let Denmark top him, the bastard had tormented him for hours just playing with them. To date it had been one of the more memorable scenes he'd ever done.

But here, oh Alfred had barely touched him and he was panting, pushing back against the other like some untrained child! The American wasn't using anything, but his own mouth and those tan, strong hands of his. It was nothing like when Denmark had him. The slowness of the American, the checked strength, even the hesitance, all of it was so different. Just what he thought he'd get he wasn't sure - but it wasn't this slow, honey-thickness that was swamping his senses, and encouraging him to relax into it.

(Arthur hadn't truly been relaxed for a very long time. He wasn't quite sure if he could even be relaxed anymore. There were days when he thought the stress and strain of being the United Kingdom would kill him, but then once home, the sudden lack of it made him tense even more. At this point he was reasonably sure he was both incapable of truly relaxing and even if he did manage it, the shock might actually kill him.)

The hand left his nipple and he protested sharply - that had been a good pain, nice and sharp and bright. He wanted more of that and less of the honey-thickness. But Alfred pushed at his hips, a silent order to lift, and he grudgingly obeyed. His pants slid down, followed by his boxers. He leaned into Alfred, liking the way the other touched him, tracing his scars, mapping him. He felt a hand follow the path of the Blitz, as a clever mouth kissed the scars left by the battles between a white and red rose as if to mourn for all of the lives lost in the pitched war for control of him.

Alfred bit at a tiny scar on his hip - one of the only thing's he'd ever gotten from the United States of America he'd kept, even if it had been a gift given before the nation had been a nation. He didn't know that Alfred had a twin scar there till the other mumbled into his hip. The thought of what that meant, made him tense helplessly with want.

"There," he whispered as a tan hand danced over the back of his knee and followed the nerves down. Alfred placed a gentle kiss on his ankle. Fingers scrapped back up and he pushed into it, closing his eyes. He got a hum as Alfred languidly kept exploring his body. A kiss here, touch here, a bite just there. His eyes closed and his head tipped back.

It was so much, and yet not enough.

The tap against his hip wasn't totally unexpected. Alfred had been mapping his body, tracing scars, since he'd been stripped. Nearly everything had been touched, caressed and kissed. The last dom who'd cared enough had been his beloved Bess. No one had really cared since then - nor had anyone been allowed to care. He huffed down at the other man. "You're going to have to help me."

Something went across Alfred's face. "I want you. You know that, right? Even if we don't do this. Whatever this is."

Whatever this was indeed. This wasn't sex per se, not as he knew it. This was something different and if he thought too hard on it he might manage to wind himself out of this calmness he was feeling. Given the choice between coming out of this or staying in it, he'd rather stay in it and see where it took him. A bit like his sea, he wondered, a slow roll that sucked you in and left you floating in weightlessness. It was a good feeling, something he'd been missing since hanging up his hat and pistol for a gentleman's staid, boring life.

"Just help me roll over already."

With Alfred's help he managed to roll over on to his knees. Vaguely irritated by the American's questioning look, he snapped at the fingers drifting over his face. He wasn't sure why, but suddenly all this gentleness was making him nervous. He wasn't ready to deal with this. Arthur desperately wanted more time to get used to the fact Alfred was willing to top him before dealing with own feelings on the matter. It was time, he decided, to see if he could speed things up a bit before he drowned.

Alfred jerked his fingers back just in time to avoid them getting bite. Even though Arthur couldn't see him he raised an eyebrow. Jerked backwards on his shoulders and braced himself as the other fell against him. He felt the roll of Arthur's hips into his and froze.

"Alfred?"

"Are we," he stammered, suddenly and abruptly realizing what they were doing. Oh holy hells, Arthur was naked. Naked and tied up and he had no idea what he could and couldn't do now. There were rules to this and he didn't fucking know any of them.

He felt more then heard the groan, "Alfred, lad, love, please tell me you aren't stopping."

"Um. No?" Those maddening hips bucked into his again and he hissed. "Stop moving!"

"Alfred, what is going on in that head of your’s right now?"

Alfred knew - sort of - what he wanted. And to an extent, he had it right now. Arthur, glorious Arthur, was in his bed. Naked. For him. He just didn't really know what to do now. Did he man up and tell Arthur his dilemma? Just asking had worked for him before, it might work again now. But then, this was Arthur, who was very proud of his House and his Roses.

Alfred sighed and nuzzled Arthur's neck. "Mm. I want more."

Arthur blinked. Well wasn't that the point? "Then bloody do something."

Arthur felt Alfred tense at his back. Then a hand was sliding down his hip before finally, oh, finally touching his cock. The hand slid down and the grip was so bloody perfect. He moved with Alfred's hand wringing out as much as he could. Arthur could feel Alfred gasping in his ear as he bucked on him. Felt him shove back for every time Arthur rolled his hips and for every slow, tight, hot jerk. He closed his eyes and keened silently as the pressure wrapped around him tightened then relaxed. "Alfred!"

"C'mon, let go for me."

Alfred sounded hoarse and almost triumphant. He forced his eyes open. Alfred was sliding himself between his legs, back and forth. He could feel the other, nudge him, oh, god above, so close to being inside him, before sliding back between his legs. After so long, it felt so good. He'd wanted this for so long and Alfred was finally touching him.

"Close your legs," the order was shaky and choked out. He obeyed it anyways, ignoring the ache in his back from the position. There was a pause, then Alfred moved forcing his way between Arthur's clenched legs. Surprised by the force Alfred was using, Arthur shouted wordlessly, body struggling to get more, get less, he had no idea. It was hot, and the sounds of Alfred forcing his way between Arthur's tightly clasped legs echoed in his mind.

"Alfred!," he finally tore out, as the strain in his back got too painful to ignore. "For love of the Queen, Alfred, let me move!"

Instead he found himself bent forward in half, and Alfred kept moving, wouldn't stop, he had to do something, had to squirm, kick, something, except he couldn't, and then he just went limp. His breath huffed out and he felt every muscle in his body give up fighting. Didn't have to move, didn't have to do anything, but just be there, right there and no where else. Arthur didn't have to do anything, he didn't have to be anything, just Alfred's. Just do what Alfred was asking him to do and nothing more. Arched above him, Alfred's movements stuttered briefly when he finally gives up trying to control this.

"Oh god." Alfred's voice swore before suddenly the feel of Alfred moving between his legs, hitting his balls, jerking him off, "C'mon Arthur, oh god, lemme see~"

The world went white.

In the back of his brain, he heard Alfred's groan and the bite on his neck and felt the other come, a hand hard on his hips. He was gathered up, mind still stuck on this - finally, finally, finally! - and cuddled close.

"Love you, love you so much, please don't ever leave me," Alfred muttered into dirty blond hair, hand stroking down the flushed skin, still wanting as much contact as he could get. He'd never get enough of this skin to skin contact with Arthur, not even when the sun went dark and dim at the end of time.

Alfred fumbled with the pillowcase, freeing Arthur's hands. He eyed the bright red bite mark guiltily - he'd broken skin. Gently he licked at it, Arthur's body shivering at the touch. Sea-salt and sleepy villages, bitter tea -– the very best thing in the world to curl up to. He kept licking at the mark, feeling all sorts of guilt (he'd hurt Arthur again, and he'd promised himself he'd never do it again but he went and just fuck), and petting as much skin as he could.

He wasn't sure what to make of Arthur's sudden softness. Or the near-inaudible humming. Alfred sighed and kept stroking down Arthur's side as the time slowly passed. He wasn't completely sure, but he'd picked up enough that generally leaving your partner alone was a bad thing, especially when you weren't sure if said partner was all together here.

All in all, it hadn't been the best sex he'd ever had in his life, Arthur considered, only half listening to the quiet murmers from the taller nation. His back was still irritated from having to hold himself like that for so long - and from riding out Alfred's unconscious strength. But at the same time... It had been Alfred touching him, Alfred holding him, and Alfred who was still curled around him as if he'd protect Arthur from everything for the rest of time. After so long of wanting this, having finally gotten it, he wasn't sure what to do now except soak it up for as long as he could. He'd keep these precious memories when Alfred finally left.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to let Alfred off the hook for ignoring him earlier. "Just what was that?" He said as crossly as he could, considering he felt rather amazing. He streched against Alfred, hiding a smile when Alfred's previously calm breath hitched.

"I, uh, what?," Was the intelligent response from the American. Arthur resisted the urge to punch the clueless blockhead.

"Did you not hear me?"

A light went on behind those stupid (gorgeous) blue eyes. "Oh that! But I moved so you wouldn't have to?" Alfred had a familiar woe-be-gone look on his face. Familiar from the days of Alfred's colony-hood, when he'd done something wrong and was being taken to task for it. Arthur knew the look all too well. It wasn't something he really wanted to think too hard on right then and there. Those days were long gone and best left in the past.

Besides, Arthur had all the proof he needed of Alfred's no longer being a child cooling and itching on his legs.

A thought occurred to him. True, Alfred had indicated that he was inexperienced, but, just how much inexperience were they talking about? He wasn't sure if he was hoping it was a lot or a little. One meant he hadn't known better and the other, well, Arthur was hoping for the first. He liked pain, yes, but not that way. "Alfred, was what Ivan said about your lack of experience true?

Alfred groaned to himself. Why couldn't Arthur just leave it alone already? It's not like he was proud of the big red sign that said "Clueless Hick Here" pointing right at him.

"So what if it was?" He muttered defensively. Arthur was squirming in his arms and he tightened his grasp without thinking to prevent the other from pulling up and out of range. Experience had taught him that the other tended to lecture at arm's length - prevent that and you could diffuse the lecture, at least temporarily.

"Are you going to yell at me again?" He asked," Because if you are, I need coffee."

Green eyes narrowed as Arthur pushed more insistently against him. "We are having this discussion with or without coffee."

Alfred swallowed back a groan. Was it too much to ask to just curl up here next to Arthur, skin to skin, and just exist for the next oh, eternity?

"Well can I at least have some of Germany's beer, then? Because this is not something I want to be talking about while I’m naked and sober." He let go of Arthur and flopped back into the bed.

Arthur couldn't help but glance over the expanse of tanned skin on view. America the beautiful indeed. "Getting drunk is not going to help the issue Alfred. This is a very serious matter - even Sweden and Finland have arranged for Sealand's training when he gets older! This affects your citizens, you know, and you should treat it respectfully."

Alfred couldn't help but snap back at that. It wasn't his fault! His founding fathers had wanted to keep him out of the European Wars and the European Houses’ politics! And when he'd finally come out of his isolationism, it had been during a world war! Who was going to take off for three months to learn about sex in the middle of a fucking world war?

“I don’t want to hear it Arthur! I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. I’ve gotten this far without needing anyone to teach me how to have sex, for chrissake.”

Sitting up, Arthur glared. “Alfred, you know that I’m, ah, fond of you, but even so you can’t treat the idea of getting trained this flippantly. There is real tradition and meaning behind it . The point isn't just to teach you, how to, have sex, you know.”

"Oh I see," he sat up as well. "I get it. You see this stupid hick of a superpower bumbling around with your ‘traditions’ and you can’t stand it.”

“For the love of God, Alfred, that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?” Alfred demanded, reaching for his forgotten pants. Why couldn't he just leave it alone!

Arthur sighed. "I hate seeing you hurt like this," he admitted," and I can't help but think you should be happy."

Alfred paused in mid reach and then, before his brain could tell his mouth to shut the hell up, he said, "You make me happy and I don’t need your precious European traditions or fancy schools to tell me that."

The second the words escaped his mouth he turned red. Even he knew he'd just crossed a line that he likely shouldn't have. Except he honestly loved Arthur. And he was starting to realize that loving Arthur, and having Arthur were two separate things, and maybe he needed some help with this.

Arthur froze at the words - Alfred couldn't mean that, could he? He made Alfred happy? He found himself unable to squash the little voice in his head that was screaming at him to say whatever it would take to keep Alfred here with him. He wouldn't be content living on the sidelines of Alfred's life anymore, not after getting a taste of what he'd dreamed of for so long. Even if the sex had been less than perfect, Alfred fit so well against him, made him feel things like he was so much newer and better. He didn't understand how he'd managed so long without him. If he'd known back then what he knew now, would he have fought harder to keep Alfred?

No - he wouldn't've. Even if he had somehow managed to keep Alfred with him, it wouldn’t be the same. If Alfred was still his beloved little colony, dependent on him for everything, their relationship could never have been like this. "I, why?"

"I don't know. You just do." Alfred shrugged.

"Alfred..."

"Sometimes I don't want to love you, I really don't. But then I look at you and it's like looking into a promise. I want to go to sleep with you and wake up in the morning with you. I want to do all sorts of things to you, and I want to know you're mine, all mine." The American looked down at where his hands were clenched in his suit pants.

When a life is about to change, Arthur thought dimly, there should be noise. Noises and the sounds of thunder, lightning. He'd had both when Rome had taken him away, and built his Wall. It'd been there at nearly every major point in his life, and yet, here, there was nothing, just Alfred waiting for his response. Somehow, it was appropriate. Every other moment was tinged with a bit of sadness, and sadness had no place here. Instead of shrinking back into the tempting loneliness, he reached out and dared to grab onto the promise hanging between them. "Only if you're mine as well."

Alfred slowly started to grin at him and pounced, knocking them back down to the bed, pants once again flung aside. "Git! Get off! I can't breathe!"

They never made it back to the meeting - and for some reason, no one came looking for him.

(Alfred discovered later that Ivan had sat down outside of the meeting room door and refused anyone entrance. Arthur had sent the Russian a thank you card - and forced Alfred to sign it.)