[Part 11] USUK - Dusty Road Curvature - Part 12
anonymous
July 9 2010, 07:47:08 UTC
The look of understanding dawns on Arthur’s face and Arthur gasps. Then his eyes narrow, not in anger, but rather in an economic mindset. “Yes. Yes. Fuck, get them off.”
So he had wanted him. The issue of pride aside, Alfred perks up. Arthur’s voice is tight with need, but he is not begging. Arthur never begs. It isn’t quite an order, either, though-almost a command. It’s enough to make Alfred shiver and close his eyes.
Alfred is never one for grace, and all semblance of grace is gone as he fumbles, his movements jerky and needy and wanting-Arthur, Arthur, Arthur…
“You are a horrible boyfriend,” Alfred decides. He’s still fumbling, and Arthur looks as if he is on the verge to rip them off himself.
“How do you figure that?”
“You should have jumped me the moment you got here, damn you,” Alfred says, with no venom.
Arthur snorts, tangles his fingers in Alfred’s hair. His head tilts to the side, his expression reading more curious than anything else and god damn it how could Arthur be so cute when he was half-naked and sprawled out like that?
And when he looks down at Arthur, or rather Arthur angles Alfred’s head using the fingers in his hair so that their eyes lock and Alfred isn’t focusing on undoing Arthur’s belt. And Arthur is smiling in that way that Alfred still hasn’t gotten used to and never will, even after all this time. It makes the butterflies return, makes him feel like melted butter. His heart always thuds, and his ears sometimes ring. He feels like he’ll never stop feeling so stupid and smitten and jittery and giddy. Not when Arthur was looking up at him like that, expression almost soft. Then Arthur drops a hand just so he can hook his fingers in the belt loops of Alfred’s water-sogged, ridiculous jeans and pull him up into the car’s back with him. It was like a car crash-he couldn’t look away from Arthur. He didn’t want to look away. Arthur woke up the quietest parts of himself, made him think and do ridiculous things, wanted to say all the sappy shit he never would say against ever curve of Arthur’s skin.
“You’re an idiot,” Arthur decides, still smiling. Then he gently sits himself up, eyes on Alfred’s mouth and Alfred’s lips part, expectantly. “My lovely.”
And there’s the pet names he’d been hoping for. Alfred feels his stomach drop and wonders if Arthur knows what effect Arthur has on him as Arthur kisses him and Alfred kisses him back. Arthur’s mouth is not soft, never is soft, but he kisses Alfred and Alfred goes about kissing him the way he does with everything in life-impatience, nerves, and breathtaking (sometimes misplaced) certainty. Definitely like melted butter. Arthur kisses him and Alfred hungrily returns the kisses, wants to sink down and away and always, always, always-
[Part 11] USUK - Dusty Road Curvature - Part 13
anonymous
July 9 2010, 07:47:37 UTC
And it’s been so long but the kiss feels like it did weeks ago, years ago, what he’d imagined it would feel like before it was even a possibility. It’s different every time but yet exactly the same each time, but changed so little that it feels like such a long time they’ve been kissing and Alfred groans because damn he misses kissing Arthur. He groans into Arthur’s mouth, can feel the curvature of Arthur’s smile, tastes like dust, as Alfred parts his mouth and Arthur’s tongue slides into his mouth, scraping across his teeth. It’s as if he’s been starving for him, and perhaps he had been-Alfred had been starving for him. He wouldn’t quit-he won’t quit. He wraps his arms around Arthur, a hearty feat since Arthur is sprawled across the floor of the car with gentle certainty.
Alfred thinks I’m an idiot because the other shoe hasn’t fallen, won’t fall. Arthur wants him, always wants him. He kisses him. He lets Arthur kiss him. Alfred laughs against his mouth, giddy, so giddy. He presses his chest against Arthur’s, balances his weight on his hands so as not to crush the precious cargo beneath him, feels their legs tangle together, feet hanging out of the car.
Alfred thinks again I’m such an idiot and is content to fall away into Arthur forever but Arthur is pulling away and why was he doing that-
Arthur pulls away, raising his eyebrows in that stupid way of his, still smiling in that heart-stopping, gut-flopping way. It should be a crime for Alfred to find him so damned attractive because in reality he isn’t the most attractive person ever-far from it. But the color of the car matches his eyes and that should count for something, right?
Not kissing Arthur kind of sucks, but the lack of kissing means the leeway for more interesting things, and Arthur’s earlier not-begging-but-almost-command to get his pants off. So he sets about doing just that.
“We’re in public,” Arthur reminds.
“Whatever, we’ll hear someone coming before they hear us,” Alfred says with hurried dismissal, now content with his mission to Get Arthur Naked.
Arthur closes his eyes as Alfred yanks off Arthur’s shoes, socks, and his pants. He tosses them, somewhere, not too far. Over his shoulder-out of sight, out of mind. And his eyes are only on Arthur. His fingers twitch, shift, press. He pulls down Arthur’s briefs, palms Arthur’s cock in his hand and sucks it into his mouth before he can second-guess himself.
Arthur hisses out a quiet litany of syllables and makes a soft grunting sound that, from anyone else, would have been horribly unattractive but because it is Arthur and it’s Arthur here with him everything he does is amazing and Alfred is beside himself. It’d been too long.
He wants to tell Arthur how much he misses him when he’s gone, how much he wants to stay with him-but it’s too sappy. Too much. He doesn’t want the other shoe to drop, doesn’t want the day to come when Arthur realizes that there’s something that makes them incompatible (there has to be something-name something that isn’t, at least), waiting for a reason why Arthur can’t love him anymore. He doesn’t want it to come. He wants to love Arthur forever.
Arthur is breathing through his nose, and the air is thick and heavy and humid. His lungs constrict, he sucks on Arthur’s cock, takes more of him in-and gags slightly when Arthur’s cockhead strikes the back of his throat. He swallows more, tries to relax his throat, holds down Arthur’s hips to keep him from thrusting painfully up into his mouth.
Arthur is gasping, and the sound is like a drug. It’s almost too much for Alfred-Arthur’s muscles jumping beneath his fingers, coarse hairs scratching against his nose. The sounds. The sounds are too much. Arthur, all for being proper and a gentleman, never says anything he doesn’t think through clearly, unless someone has enraged him into a screaming fit. But making indecent noises, sharp inhales and quiet groans and the quiet keens of Alfred and Yes, yes, my dear.
[Part 11] USUK - Dusty Road Curvature - Part 14
anonymous
July 9 2010, 07:48:17 UTC
Alfred is painfully hard in his wet jeans and damn does he hate free-balling like anything else on earth, but at that moment he’s thankful for how easy it is to pull down the zipper and pull himself out, stroking in time to the sucks he gives Arthur, passing his tongue along the underside, swirling around Arthur’s head with gentle precision. His hand is less gentle, pounding up and down along his cock.
“God,” Arthur gasps. Alfred watches him through his eyelashes, sucks harder on the cock, trying to send the older man into incoherency. Arthur’s moans are filthy and though it’s not in the house, Alfred knows he’s getting his wish to make things even dirtier than the laundry and the cars.
He sucks Arthur in harder, deeper, focusing on his tongue and only then remembering to keep his teeth in check, only just managing to keep them out of the way but Arthur either doesn’t notice or likes it, because his head is thrashing from side to side and he’s moaning for Alfred, only Alfred, bucking up despite the hold on his hips keeping him there. He presses his cheek to the car’s carpet, lets out one little cry, and his mouth sags open as Alfred’s mouth fills with the salty taste of Arthur’s cum. Arthur’s body shudders hard, once, then twice, and he arches up, his legs taut and body quivering like a bow that’d just released an arrow.
He drinks him in, sucks him dry until he is weak and spent and flaccid and lets it slip from his mouth, licking his lips. He mutters something against Arthur’s quivering inner thigh, pressing a haphazard kiss.
“I missed you,” he breaths before he can stop himself, but his voice is so breathless and Arthur’s breath so ragged, it’s likely that the older nation didn’t hear him-and that’s for the best. He presses his face into the soft skin at the junction between Arthur’s hip and thigh, kissing at the sweaty skin there, tastes more salt. His mouth tastes of Arthur, his ears are pounding and ringing from Arthur’s sounds, listens to Arthur’s greedy, shuddering breaths.
It’s all he needs, too, and with one last jerk of his hand, he comes, feels his orgasm hit him almost as a surprise as he jerks into his hand, clenching his eyes tight and breathing out words he’s too embarrassed to say under normal circumstances into the expanse of Arthur’s skin. He lies there, panting loudly into Arthur’s skin.
Arthur lets him come down and then he strokes his fingers through Alfred’s hair. Quietly, in a tired voice, he says, “Come here, darling.”
Alfred obliges, pushing himself up and crawling over Arthurs’ prone, naked body, pressing soft kisses against his sweating skin along the way. The air is too thick, too humid. And he feels so warm inside, with Arthur. Arthur.
“Do you need me to…?” Arthur murmurs, looking sated but concerned, lifting his hand to drag it down Alfred’s chest.
Alfred grins, giddy, despite himself, his face flushed red. “Already took care of that, ha ha… Um.”
Arthur’s face is surprised before it ripples away to quiet amusement, and he strokes the hair from Alfred’s face. Alfred nuzzles into the hand, eyes fluttering.
“… You’re not wearing anything underneath those ridiculous jeans are you?” Arthur says, attentions all in the wrong (or possibly right) places.
[Part 11] USUK - Dusty Road Curvature - Part 15 (end)
anonymous
July 9 2010, 07:49:00 UTC
“Jesus,” Arthur curses, then rolls them so it’s Alfred on the floor of the car and Arthur pressing over him, kissing at his chin and his jaw and his nose. Alfred tries to push his head up, brushes his nose against Arthur’s and Arthur chuckles. “Alright, alright,” he whispers, and presses closer, resting his forehead against Alfred’s. “Alright, my lovely.”
“Yeah,” Alfred breathes, feels his heart flop again. He’ll never get used to it, as long as he lives. He never wants to be used to it.
“I would have come sooner,” Arthur says, after a long pause. “I hadn’t realized you’d missed me.”
Alfred sputters and whispers, “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
Arthur strokes his fingers through Alfred’s hair. “I heard.”
Alfred grunts, then turns his head away, closing his eyes. He swallows thickly as Arthur nuzzles against his neck. He tilts his head, pressing his cheek against Arthur, and Arthur stills, stays like that. He can hear the breath in his ear, feel it wafting over his sticky skin. He breaths out a small sigh, feels content and perfectly relaxed for the first time in a long time.
“Yeah,” he admits. “Well. You’re here now.”
Alfred does not think he can control his own limbs, and he refuses to admit he’s cuddling with Arthur (though that’s totally what’s happening). So he enjoys just lying there, half-naked, with Arthur.
Arthur sighs. Ever the pessimist, he mutters into Alfred’s hair but with no intention of getting up anytime soon, “We’ll never get the laundry done at this rate.”
Re: [Part 11] USUK - Dusty Road Curvature - Part 15 (end)
anonymous
July 9 2010, 09:55:23 UTC
Oh anon, I loved the aching uncertainty woven throughout this. I need to rest my poor aching eyes before rereading and making a real (possibly even intelligent?) comment, but this really was lovely. Thanks for sharing, my dear. <3
And yeah, maybe a bit obvious, but it just makes us love you more. ... May I just declare you the master of writing emotions well already? <3
Heh. ReCaptcha says "quick next". Even Captcha wants more of your fic. ;D
Re: [Part 11] USUK - Dusty Road Curvature - Part 15 (end)
anonymous
July 9 2010, 23:15:22 UTC
IT'S INCREDIBLE!! Just today I was washing my car inside my garden and of course I was all wet (I love play with water^^). And so I just thought: "Well, it would be so great see some Hetalia's characters trying to wash a car, but ending up splashing each other." And "POOF!!" my desire became reality!! And with my favorite pairing too!!! And with SMUT!!! (Epic win!!) XDDDD Maybe one of Iggy's fairy was listening to me...this is a miracle!!^^
Anyway I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS!! It's perfect! THANK YOUUUUUUU!!!!!!!XD
Re: [Part 11] USUK - Dusty Road Curvature - Part 15 (end)
anonymous
July 10 2010, 00:00:05 UTC
Oh god, this is just... man, I have no words to describe how utterly amazing this story was. You could literally feel how much Alfred loved Arthur, and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy in return <3
I kinda have a suspicion who you are, but I'm probably mistaken ;3;
So he had wanted him. The issue of pride aside, Alfred perks up. Arthur’s voice is tight with need, but he is not begging. Arthur never begs. It isn’t quite an order, either, though-almost a command. It’s enough to make Alfred shiver and close his eyes.
Alfred is never one for grace, and all semblance of grace is gone as he fumbles, his movements jerky and needy and wanting-Arthur, Arthur, Arthur…
“You are a horrible boyfriend,” Alfred decides. He’s still fumbling, and Arthur looks as if he is on the verge to rip them off himself.
“How do you figure that?”
“You should have jumped me the moment you got here, damn you,” Alfred says, with no venom.
Arthur snorts, tangles his fingers in Alfred’s hair. His head tilts to the side, his expression reading more curious than anything else and god damn it how could Arthur be so cute when he was half-naked and sprawled out like that?
And when he looks down at Arthur, or rather Arthur angles Alfred’s head using the fingers in his hair so that their eyes lock and Alfred isn’t focusing on undoing Arthur’s belt. And Arthur is smiling in that way that Alfred still hasn’t gotten used to and never will, even after all this time. It makes the butterflies return, makes him feel like melted butter. His heart always thuds, and his ears sometimes ring. He feels like he’ll never stop feeling so stupid and smitten and jittery and giddy. Not when Arthur was looking up at him like that, expression almost soft. Then Arthur drops a hand just so he can hook his fingers in the belt loops of Alfred’s water-sogged, ridiculous jeans and pull him up into the car’s back with him. It was like a car crash-he couldn’t look away from Arthur. He didn’t want to look away. Arthur woke up the quietest parts of himself, made him think and do ridiculous things, wanted to say all the sappy shit he never would say against ever curve of Arthur’s skin.
“You’re an idiot,” Arthur decides, still smiling. Then he gently sits himself up, eyes on Alfred’s mouth and Alfred’s lips part, expectantly. “My lovely.”
And there’s the pet names he’d been hoping for. Alfred feels his stomach drop and wonders if Arthur knows what effect Arthur has on him as Arthur kisses him and Alfred kisses him back. Arthur’s mouth is not soft, never is soft, but he kisses Alfred and Alfred goes about kissing him the way he does with everything in life-impatience, nerves, and breathtaking (sometimes misplaced) certainty. Definitely like melted butter. Arthur kisses him and Alfred hungrily returns the kisses, wants to sink down and away and always, always, always-
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Alfred thinks I’m an idiot because the other shoe hasn’t fallen, won’t fall. Arthur wants him, always wants him. He kisses him. He lets Arthur kiss him. Alfred laughs against his mouth, giddy, so giddy. He presses his chest against Arthur’s, balances his weight on his hands so as not to crush the precious cargo beneath him, feels their legs tangle together, feet hanging out of the car.
Alfred thinks again I’m such an idiot and is content to fall away into Arthur forever but Arthur is pulling away and why was he doing that-
Arthur pulls away, raising his eyebrows in that stupid way of his, still smiling in that heart-stopping, gut-flopping way. It should be a crime for Alfred to find him so damned attractive because in reality he isn’t the most attractive person ever-far from it. But the color of the car matches his eyes and that should count for something, right?
Not kissing Arthur kind of sucks, but the lack of kissing means the leeway for more interesting things, and Arthur’s earlier not-begging-but-almost-command to get his pants off. So he sets about doing just that.
“We’re in public,” Arthur reminds.
“Whatever, we’ll hear someone coming before they hear us,” Alfred says with hurried dismissal, now content with his mission to Get Arthur Naked.
Arthur closes his eyes as Alfred yanks off Arthur’s shoes, socks, and his pants. He tosses them, somewhere, not too far. Over his shoulder-out of sight, out of mind. And his eyes are only on Arthur. His fingers twitch, shift, press. He pulls down Arthur’s briefs, palms Arthur’s cock in his hand and sucks it into his mouth before he can second-guess himself.
Arthur hisses out a quiet litany of syllables and makes a soft grunting sound that, from anyone else, would have been horribly unattractive but because it is Arthur and it’s Arthur here with him everything he does is amazing and Alfred is beside himself. It’d been too long.
He wants to tell Arthur how much he misses him when he’s gone, how much he wants to stay with him-but it’s too sappy. Too much. He doesn’t want the other shoe to drop, doesn’t want the day to come when Arthur realizes that there’s something that makes them incompatible (there has to be something-name something that isn’t, at least), waiting for a reason why Arthur can’t love him anymore. He doesn’t want it to come. He wants to love Arthur forever.
Arthur is breathing through his nose, and the air is thick and heavy and humid. His lungs constrict, he sucks on Arthur’s cock, takes more of him in-and gags slightly when Arthur’s cockhead strikes the back of his throat. He swallows more, tries to relax his throat, holds down Arthur’s hips to keep him from thrusting painfully up into his mouth.
Arthur is gasping, and the sound is like a drug. It’s almost too much for Alfred-Arthur’s muscles jumping beneath his fingers, coarse hairs scratching against his nose. The sounds. The sounds are too much. Arthur, all for being proper and a gentleman, never says anything he doesn’t think through clearly, unless someone has enraged him into a screaming fit. But making indecent noises, sharp inhales and quiet groans and the quiet keens of Alfred and Yes, yes, my dear.
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“God,” Arthur gasps. Alfred watches him through his eyelashes, sucks harder on the cock, trying to send the older man into incoherency. Arthur’s moans are filthy and though it’s not in the house, Alfred knows he’s getting his wish to make things even dirtier than the laundry and the cars.
He sucks Arthur in harder, deeper, focusing on his tongue and only then remembering to keep his teeth in check, only just managing to keep them out of the way but Arthur either doesn’t notice or likes it, because his head is thrashing from side to side and he’s moaning for Alfred, only Alfred, bucking up despite the hold on his hips keeping him there. He presses his cheek to the car’s carpet, lets out one little cry, and his mouth sags open as Alfred’s mouth fills with the salty taste of Arthur’s cum. Arthur’s body shudders hard, once, then twice, and he arches up, his legs taut and body quivering like a bow that’d just released an arrow.
He drinks him in, sucks him dry until he is weak and spent and flaccid and lets it slip from his mouth, licking his lips. He mutters something against Arthur’s quivering inner thigh, pressing a haphazard kiss.
“I missed you,” he breaths before he can stop himself, but his voice is so breathless and Arthur’s breath so ragged, it’s likely that the older nation didn’t hear him-and that’s for the best. He presses his face into the soft skin at the junction between Arthur’s hip and thigh, kissing at the sweaty skin there, tastes more salt. His mouth tastes of Arthur, his ears are pounding and ringing from Arthur’s sounds, listens to Arthur’s greedy, shuddering breaths.
It’s all he needs, too, and with one last jerk of his hand, he comes, feels his orgasm hit him almost as a surprise as he jerks into his hand, clenching his eyes tight and breathing out words he’s too embarrassed to say under normal circumstances into the expanse of Arthur’s skin. He lies there, panting loudly into Arthur’s skin.
Arthur lets him come down and then he strokes his fingers through Alfred’s hair. Quietly, in a tired voice, he says, “Come here, darling.”
Alfred obliges, pushing himself up and crawling over Arthurs’ prone, naked body, pressing soft kisses against his sweating skin along the way. The air is too thick, too humid. And he feels so warm inside, with Arthur. Arthur.
“Do you need me to…?” Arthur murmurs, looking sated but concerned, lifting his hand to drag it down Alfred’s chest.
Alfred grins, giddy, despite himself, his face flushed red. “Already took care of that, ha ha… Um.”
Arthur’s face is surprised before it ripples away to quiet amusement, and he strokes the hair from Alfred’s face. Alfred nuzzles into the hand, eyes fluttering.
“… You’re not wearing anything underneath those ridiculous jeans are you?” Arthur says, attentions all in the wrong (or possibly right) places.
Alfred’s grin widens. “Free-ballin’.”
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“Yeah,” Alfred breathes, feels his heart flop again. He’ll never get used to it, as long as he lives. He never wants to be used to it.
“I would have come sooner,” Arthur says, after a long pause. “I hadn’t realized you’d missed me.”
Alfred sputters and whispers, “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
Arthur strokes his fingers through Alfred’s hair. “I heard.”
Alfred grunts, then turns his head away, closing his eyes. He swallows thickly as Arthur nuzzles against his neck. He tilts his head, pressing his cheek against Arthur, and Arthur stills, stays like that. He can hear the breath in his ear, feel it wafting over his sticky skin. He breaths out a small sigh, feels content and perfectly relaxed for the first time in a long time.
“Yeah,” he admits. “Well. You’re here now.”
Alfred does not think he can control his own limbs, and he refuses to admit he’s cuddling with Arthur (though that’s totally what’s happening). So he enjoys just lying there, half-naked, with Arthur.
Arthur sighs. Ever the pessimist, he mutters into Alfred’s hair but with no intention of getting up anytime soon, “We’ll never get the laundry done at this rate.”
(damn character limits!)
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ANON HAVE ALL MY INTERNETS! That is so utterly sinful on a hot day such as this. *goes to the nearest pool and dunk into it*
captcha says: none tows. wtf
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And yeah, maybe a bit obvious, but it just makes us love you more. ... May I just declare you the master of writing emotions well already? <3
Heh. ReCaptcha says "quick next". Even Captcha wants more of your fic. ;D
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Did I mention that I love it??
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T-this was just so a;sldkfjsdf ♥
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I'm not sure what, but you definitely win Anon.
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Maybe one of Iggy's fairy was listening to me...this is a miracle!!^^
Anyway I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS!! It's perfect! THANK YOUUUUUUU!!!!!!!XD
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I kinda have a suspicion who you are, but I'm probably mistaken ;3;
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And I love you ):! never stop being such a good writer ever ever
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