The Brink of Desperation {1/?}
anonymous
February 9 2010, 05:57:44 UTC
Ok, here we go! Sorry, the smut doesn't come in this installment. Hopefully you'll still enjoy this one!
_______________
A light, lovely breeze fluttered at the curtains allowed to let fly in the drawing room of Arthur Kirkland's house. He'd been impatiently keeping company of several young women while waiting for his guest to arrive. Dressed in yellow and blue and green afternoon gowns, the girls had flightily chirped on and on about unimportant topics, as women were supposed to.
Finally, about mid day, the carriage pulled up, and out stepped a young man who looked surprisingly dapper in a grey uniform. Arther gawked from the steps. This man was rather attractive.
"I do declare," the rebel soulfully crooned, "That it's rather cold in this area, is it not?"
"Hm," Arthur stiffly sniffed, "I've never noticed."
With an air of formality, and an enthusiastic expression that all-too-closely resembled another North American boy, the man in grey held out a hand. The two shook hands, and the foreigner nodded curtly.
"I say," England started, "Mr... Confederate States? It's quite a shock to have you in my home. In fact, I hardly knew you existed before a few years ago."
"Aw, please," he smiled, "Call me Beau. My full name's Beauregard Jones."
"Right," the Englishman replied, "And I'm Arthur Kirkland. Although, I'm sure you've already heard my name."
"Hmmm, Ahhh-thuh."
England blinked, rattled to the bone by that simple reaffirmation of his name. Something in that accent reminded him of days long ago, when Alfred was young and growing, and had yet to develop his own speech in full. Sometimes he'd drift in between The King's and some horrid sounding rebellious banter, yet in between the extremes was quite beautiful.
It was a long time since this accent had played at his ears, and it was starting to make him react in ways he'd never imagined.
"P-please come inside," Arthur flustered, leading the way back to the drawing room.
Beau followed behind him, letting his desperation permeate into the situation before its due time, quietly saying, "Now, about mah nat'ral resources..."
They turned into the small den, and Beau stopped in his tracks. A light red tint seeped up his cheeks and he removed his hat, giving a bow.
"I'm awfully sorry y'all lovely misses had to hear of my... Personal affairs like that."
They simply giggled at his manner of speech and coyly allowed him to take and kiss each of their hands.
"Why, Mister Kirkland," he laughed, "You never told me how charming the ladies are in this part of the world!"
"You never asked," England bluntly blinked.
After a few moments of small talk, and sending for tea (which Beau had, to Arthur's dismay, requested his over ice), the conversation was steered toward the guest and his family.
"Well, the only picture I brought with me is of South Carolina and Georgia. Right before the war."
A small paper was unfolded from his pocket and passed around. Two gorgeous, corset-bound women stood together in matching bell-shaped skirts and ringlets.
"Poor South Carolina ain't doin' so well for herself right now," Beau paused to inconspicuously wipe a tear from his eye at the thought, "Bless her heart, she'll starve to death if I can't..."
During the smothering silence, England eyed the confederate states. It had taken him until just now to realize that under closer examination, Beauregard himself seemed to be starving, so thin that his old uniform seemed slightly too large. And when that caught his eye, he noted the neatly sewn repairs with grey thread along old seams and presumed frayed ends. The splendor he originally Radiated gave way to a weaker, shabbier man, and this pulled at Arthur's sympathy so delicately.
"I believe we should excuse ourselves," a lady smiled, and England simply nodded, not making eye contact with anyone, but staring off into space with a cold train of thought.
Re: The Brink of Desperation {1/?}
anonymous
February 9 2010, 06:32:50 UTC
Beau (such a French sounding name lol) is a very interesting character! Nice blend of America and England, with his own peculiarities, and not forced at all. I liked the addition of those women and of the woman states, too, added more ambiance. And I actually snorted at "Ahhh-thuh" XD
'nabokov area'. is England going to be seduced by little girls now?XD
The Brink of Desperation {2/?}
anonymous
February 10 2010, 05:41:36 UTC
Still not to the smut, but now with FIFTY PERCENT MORE SEXUAL TENSION. OH BOY!
_______________
It took an obvious thunk to disturb the melancholy potion brewing in England's mind.
The gentleman who had just recently been cordially conversing with several fine females was now on his knees near Arthur's chair. His head hung, listlessly, resulting in his glasses clattering to the floor. A metallic cry reverberated off of the walls as a sabre was unearthed from a sheath at Beau's waist, and sat down harmlessly in front of him.
Arthur was completely reeling. This was the last thing he expected.
"Why... Have you no dignity!?"
A sob choked back, but didn't restrain tears on the young face of the confederate states. Beau looked up and made eye contact with two healthy green orbs.
"Please, I beg you," he softly hiccupped, "Help me. I'mma die if you don't!"
A light, surprised yelp broke the air as Beau leaned his head against the knee of the nation before him. He rubbed his face against the trousers at the bend of England's leg in grief, hoping that sone of the prosperity would rub off on him.
"I can't do anythin' for myself now that Alfred's got me blocked in. I just barely made it out to come consult with you- I mean, hell, all I have is cotton- do you know what all you can do with cotton? Jack squat, and-!"
"Shhhh," Arthur consoled, placing a palm to Beau's forehead, "I might help you yet. However, I'll have to think on it."
"What can I do? What can I do to convince you?"
A face of pure contemplation furrowed England's brow, accomplishing nothing but showing that even he didn't know.
He sighed and patted Beau's head, "We'll have to see."
"I want it now!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Look at me," Beau squawked, "I'm starving, I'm wastin' away!"
To England's horror, His guest proved his point by removing his coat. He winced at the sunken body before him, yet at the same time, he felt a growing need to take this intriguing young man.
"I have a simple proposition. Take it or leave it," Arthur droned, appearing nonchalant to his desires.
"And that'd be?"
"Make a bond with me. Like only two gentlemen can."
Re: The Brink of Desperation {2/?}
anonymous
February 11 2010, 02:11:25 UTC
Southern!Authornon just sympathizes so much with my part of the states. When we studied the civil war, all I could picture was this emmaciated, hopeless guy, and it broke my heart.
Re: The Brink of Desperation {2/?}
anonymous
February 17 2010, 03:42:08 UTC
Fellow Southerner!anon is also feeling for Beau. The CSA is so rarely characterized in fic beyond 'Teh Ebil America', so its amazing to see it given some kind of sympathy and motivation here.
This is getting a little off-topic and angsty, but what the hell: I can't bear to read Hetalia Civil War fic where Alfred is a soldier fighting the Confederate army. He can be a medic, sitting the war out, too crazy to fight, anything but actually taking up arms because I just can't take the thought of Alfred shooting at my ancestors.
The Brink of Desperation {3/?}
anonymous
February 11 2010, 05:34:40 UTC
The events of the next few moments were uncertain when recalled, in a beautiful manner that could be produced only from a mutual, unspoken lust.
With a hunger not unlike the starvation of his body, Beau opened his mouth in anticipation. A flash of excitement peaked, and somehow, as if by magic, Arthur's trousers were undone. He stunk into his chair, contradicting the height that his erection imposed. He gave a sultry half-smirk, and with this action alone tore the Confederacy apart.
With eyes closed, Beau's flushed, still tear-stained cheek lightly brushed Arthur's bare skin. He shivered, staring up into those green eyes one more time before enveloping the Englishman in soft heat.
Fingers curled, a knuckle was bitten, and hair was ever so slightly tugged. He wanted to buck and moan into the southern man's mouth, but that wouldn't be prudent. This was a gentleman's affair. The fact that he was being sucked like his partner's life depended on it did not help in the least, however.
"U-hn," he finally breathed, "Wait a moment."
As Beau slowly pulled his face away, a small string of liquid trailed from his lips.
"Yessir?" the Confederacy rose his gaze, soberly serious for this odd, glorious occasion.
The Brink of Desperation {4/4}
anonymous
February 12 2010, 05:46:25 UTC
Beau heaved a sigh and his eyelids heavily fell. While holding back more tears, he touched his forehead to the bare neck of the other man.
"One condition."
"Name it," Arthur mused.
"Please," his brown eyes were open again and shining with tears, "Do whatever you want with me, but please give me something to eat afterwards. Even if only for one day."
"I'll see what I can do," England curtly replied, and promptly began to remove Beau's pants. Gasps and winces of excitement and reaction to the cold all wriggled their way out of the southerner's lips, and he clammored to have England's hands on him, to return the heat to his frigid frail frame.
A moan surfaced, it was uncertain from whom it came. The atmosphere turned on its head when their lips locked, and finally, after so long, Arthur's hands found their treasure.
"Aww, GAWD!" Beau twanged as his erection rolled in the Englishman's hands.
Arthur simply smiled and flipped the other over, coming up to his knees. Slowly, he pushed himself in, waiting for the sharp, pleasured exhale to repeat the process. They rocked with a driving rythm, Arthur biting at his lip and Beau's face pressed roughly to the floor. Soon, Beau began stroking himself in time, increasing the frequency and strength of his moaning.
With his head thrown back, Arthur felt like he could howl at the moon. His fingernails dug into the back of the boy he was mounting as he came, but it was as if he was grasping at nothing. Arthur lay hunched over and out of breath as Beau finished himself, moaning and hips dancing in a way that made Arthur wish to do it all over again. The Confederacy sank into the rug, his energy long since spent.
It was there that he would lie for quite some time, until he was fed out of sympathy by the older nation.
_______________
A light, lovely breeze fluttered at the curtains allowed to let fly in the drawing room of Arthur Kirkland's house. He'd been impatiently keeping company of several young women while waiting for his guest to arrive. Dressed in yellow and blue and green afternoon gowns, the girls had flightily chirped on and on about unimportant topics, as women were supposed to.
Finally, about mid day, the carriage pulled up, and out stepped a young man who looked surprisingly dapper in a grey uniform. Arther gawked from the steps. This man was rather attractive.
"I do declare," the rebel soulfully crooned, "That it's rather cold in this area, is it not?"
"Hm," Arthur stiffly sniffed, "I've never noticed."
With an air of formality, and an enthusiastic expression that all-too-closely resembled another North American boy, the man in grey held out a hand. The two shook hands, and the foreigner nodded curtly.
"I say," England started, "Mr... Confederate States? It's quite a shock to have you in my home. In fact, I hardly knew you existed before a few years ago."
"Aw, please," he smiled, "Call me Beau. My full name's Beauregard Jones."
"Right," the Englishman replied, "And I'm Arthur Kirkland. Although, I'm sure you've already heard my name."
"Hmmm, Ahhh-thuh."
England blinked, rattled to the bone by that simple reaffirmation of his name. Something in that accent reminded him of days long ago, when Alfred was young and growing, and had yet to develop his own speech in full. Sometimes he'd drift in between The King's and some horrid sounding rebellious banter, yet in between the extremes was quite beautiful.
It was a long time since this accent had played at his ears, and it was starting to make him react in ways he'd never imagined.
"P-please come inside," Arthur flustered, leading the way back to the drawing room.
Beau followed behind him, letting his desperation permeate into the situation before its due time, quietly saying, "Now, about mah nat'ral resources..."
They turned into the small den, and Beau stopped in his tracks. A light red tint seeped up his cheeks and he removed his hat, giving a bow.
"I'm awfully sorry y'all lovely misses had to hear of my... Personal affairs like that."
They simply giggled at his manner of speech and coyly allowed him to take and kiss each of their hands.
"Why, Mister Kirkland," he laughed, "You never told me how charming the ladies are in this part of the world!"
"You never asked," England bluntly blinked.
After a few moments of small talk, and sending for tea (which Beau had, to Arthur's dismay, requested his over ice), the conversation was steered toward the guest and his family.
"Well, the only picture I brought with me is of South Carolina and Georgia. Right before the war."
A small paper was unfolded from his pocket and passed around. Two gorgeous, corset-bound women stood together in matching bell-shaped skirts and ringlets.
"Poor South Carolina ain't doin' so well for herself right now," Beau paused to inconspicuously wipe a tear from his eye at the thought, "Bless her heart, she'll starve to death if I can't..."
During the smothering silence, England eyed the confederate states. It had taken him until just now to realize that under closer examination, Beauregard himself seemed to be starving, so thin that his old uniform seemed slightly too large. And when that caught his eye, he noted the neatly sewn repairs with grey thread along old seams and presumed frayed ends. The splendor he originally Radiated gave way to a weaker, shabbier man, and this pulled at Arthur's sympathy so delicately.
"I believe we should excuse ourselves," a lady smiled, and England simply nodded, not making eye contact with anyone, but staring off into space with a cold train of thought.
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And I actually snorted at "Ahhh-thuh" XD
'nabokov area'. is England going to be seduced by little girls now?XD
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_______________
It took an obvious thunk to disturb the melancholy potion brewing in England's mind.
The gentleman who had just recently been cordially conversing with several fine females was now on his knees near Arthur's chair. His head hung, listlessly, resulting in his glasses clattering to the floor. A metallic cry reverberated off of the walls as a sabre was unearthed from a sheath at Beau's waist, and sat down harmlessly in front of him.
Arthur was completely reeling. This was the last thing he expected.
"Why... Have you no dignity!?"
A sob choked back, but didn't restrain tears on the young face of the confederate states. Beau looked up and made eye contact with two healthy green orbs.
"Please, I beg you," he softly hiccupped, "Help me. I'mma die if you don't!"
A light, surprised yelp broke the air as Beau leaned his head against the knee of the nation before him. He rubbed his face against the trousers at the bend of England's leg in grief, hoping that sone of the prosperity would rub off on him.
"I can't do anythin' for myself now that Alfred's got me blocked in. I just barely made it out to come consult with you- I mean, hell, all I have is cotton- do you know what all you can do with cotton? Jack squat, and-!"
"Shhhh," Arthur consoled, placing a palm to Beau's forehead, "I might help you yet. However, I'll have to think on it."
"What can I do? What can I do to convince you?"
A face of pure contemplation furrowed England's brow, accomplishing nothing but showing that even he didn't know.
He sighed and patted Beau's head, "We'll have to see."
"I want it now!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Look at me," Beau squawked, "I'm starving, I'm wastin' away!"
To England's horror, His guest proved his point by removing his coat. He winced at the sunken body before him, yet at the same time, he felt a growing need to take this intriguing young man.
"I have a simple proposition. Take it or leave it," Arthur droned, appearing nonchalant to his desires.
"And that'd be?"
"Make a bond with me. Like only two gentlemen can."
Reply
Reply
I love this so much, and I'm actually feeling sorry for the Confederacy, which is a weird feeling. Can't wait for the next bit! *jumps up and down*
Reply
Ahh, I'm glad you like it! :)
Reply
This is getting a little off-topic and angsty, but what the hell: I can't bear to read Hetalia Civil War fic where Alfred is a soldier fighting the Confederate army. He can be a medic, sitting the war out, too crazy to fight, anything but actually taking up arms because I just can't take the thought of Alfred shooting at my ancestors.
Reply
With a hunger not unlike the starvation of his body, Beau opened his mouth in anticipation. A flash of excitement peaked, and somehow, as if by magic, Arthur's trousers were undone. He stunk into his chair, contradicting the height that his erection imposed. He gave a sultry half-smirk, and with this action alone tore the Confederacy apart.
With eyes closed, Beau's flushed, still tear-stained cheek lightly brushed Arthur's bare skin. He shivered, staring up into those green eyes one more time before enveloping the Englishman in soft heat.
Fingers curled, a knuckle was bitten, and hair was ever so slightly tugged. He wanted to buck and moan into the southern man's mouth, but that wouldn't be prudent. This was a gentleman's affair. The fact that he was being sucked like his partner's life depended on it did not help in the least, however.
"U-hn," he finally breathed, "Wait a moment."
As Beau slowly pulled his face away, a small string of liquid trailed from his lips.
"Yessir?" the Confederacy rose his gaze, soberly serious for this odd, glorious occasion.
Arthur wanted to melt.
"Let me in you."
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"One condition."
"Name it," Arthur mused.
"Please," his brown eyes were open again and shining with tears, "Do whatever you want with me, but please give me something to eat afterwards. Even if only for one day."
"I'll see what I can do," England curtly replied, and promptly began to remove Beau's pants. Gasps and winces of excitement and reaction to the cold all wriggled their way out of the southerner's lips, and he clammored to have England's hands on him, to return the heat to his frigid frail frame.
A moan surfaced, it was uncertain from whom it came. The atmosphere turned on its head when their lips locked, and finally, after so long, Arthur's hands found their treasure.
"Aww, GAWD!" Beau twanged as his erection rolled in the Englishman's hands.
Arthur simply smiled and flipped the other over, coming up to his knees. Slowly, he pushed himself in, waiting for the sharp, pleasured exhale to repeat the process. They rocked with a driving rythm, Arthur biting at his lip and Beau's face pressed roughly to the floor. Soon, Beau began stroking himself in time, increasing the frequency and strength of his moaning.
With his head thrown back, Arthur felt like he could howl at the moon. His fingernails dug into the back of the boy he was mounting as he came, but it was as if he was grasping at nothing. Arthur lay hunched over and out of breath as Beau finished himself, moaning and hips dancing in a way that made Arthur wish to do it all over again. The Confederacy sank into the rug, his energy long since spent.
It was there that he would lie for quite some time, until he was fed out of sympathy by the older nation.
Reply
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