Sidecar [3a/3]
anonymous
November 3 2011, 13:30:29 UTC
While at first, Arthur was mostly teasing Al while honestly wanting to give him a little lesson, he felt his short temper tested with those drunken and insolent comments. It wasn't as if he was never called an old man, but Alfred should have known that to do so right now was to be treading on thin ice. How he missed the days when Alfred wouldn't dare but call him sir as soon as he was in trouble! Unknown to Alfred, the young man had just signed himself up for a longer session over Arthur's knees than he had thought. He was a little big for Arthur’s lap now, but it had been a good length of time since he'd given the American nation the punishment he so deserved-and much more often than he got it! With one hand he brushed up the back of Al's shirt so that it didn't fall to cover any bit of those perfect, plump cheeks of his. So beautiful...
Alfred sucked in a breath when he felt his bottom being exposed completely, tensing up involuntarily in anticipation. Arthur wasn’t quite finished with his lecture yet, however, as he still hadn’t addressed the accusation that Toris actually likes taking care of me. Such presumption wouldn’t do, not at all! "Oh, I enjoyed taking care of you Alfred... when you behaved." He concluded with a slight sneer. Lifting the spoon, the flatter side of it came down with a sharp smack! He only used the rounded end of it, which kept the swats more localized, making little pink circles with each sharp smack of wood on flesh.
That first swat hurt more than Alfred had anticipated, a lot more, in fact. In surprise, he let out a small whimper at the sharp, concentrated pain. Oh, no he wouldn’t, he decided as soon as he heard the noise leave his lips. Arthur could spank him all he wanted, but Alfred was determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much the punishment hurt his former charge. This determination had never lasted in the past, of course; or at the very least, it had never outlasted Arthur's resolve to get a response out of him, but that wouldn't stop him from trying now. After a few sharp swats, Alfred found himself squirming across the English nation's lap, his bottom really starting to feel the sting now, though he still stubbornly persevered in making no sound.
Those little round swats soon began to fade into a general flush, the sharp smacks starting to overlap. The sting continued to build with each swat, and Alfred's ass was starting to throb with the heat being brought on by that wooden spoon as the chastised flesh became more and more sensitized to the spoon’s impact. Even so, he managed to keep himself relatively silent, the only audible indication of the burn that was spreading through his bottom being the harsh, hissing exhales of breath forcing their way through the younger nation's teeth with every few smacks. Alfred’s's fingers dug into the upholstery of the couch, the muscles tensing each time the spoon landed on his now deep-pink cheeks.
Arthur saw no reason to hold back other than the spoon's strength. Even if that failed him, it wouldn't be the first time he'd broken something over Alfred's ass-the boy was a stubborn one! Knowing this, it wasn't hard to anticipate Alfred's little 'rebellion'. He didn't want to make a sound, eh? Well, that wasn't going to last long! Those perky cheeks were giving a little bounce with each heavy swat, and Arthur knew how bad that sting would grow as he watched that color slowly turn to a dark pink. He might have stopped about now had Alfred not been cheeky with him and then decided to stay quiet, but the younger man had made the wrong choice with his drunken ramblings, and Arthur wasn’t nearly done with him yet.
After what felt like forever, even if Alfred's judgment of time hadn't been muddled with alcohol, the swats suddenly stopped falling. He let out a sigh of relief, which quickly turned into a yelp. "Aah!" It was different sensation, which he wasn't prepared for, with the added sting of the new smack now being concentrated in a long line rather than a tight circle. Even if Alfred had been expecting it, he likely couldn't have kept quiet; this new pain seemed to penetrate deeper than before.
Sidecar [3b/3]
anonymous
November 3 2011, 13:31:35 UTC
It had only taken Arthur a moment to switch the position of the spoon, and he next smack had come in the form of holding the spoon portion in his palm, letting the long handle create a welt on that already sore bottom instead, and oh, that little cry was worth it! Alfred had been wiggling a bit and breathing heavily, but nothing was as good as that cry. 'How do I know my punishment's working if you don't make a sound?', Arthur used to say. He didn't stop at that, however, not when he finally got what he wanted! Those sharper, more painful strikes came swiftly and without mercy. He wasn't going to stop until he got more cries of pain, each stripe coloring those already sore cheeks.
The cries were not slow in coming. "Ah! Ow! Nngh!" It was as if Alfred couldn't hold back anymore once he'd started to acknowledge the pain he was in. The noises were quiet at first, but as his ass became littered with deep red stripes across the already-darkened flesh, they grew louder. Just when Alfred thought the sting couldn't intensify, another strike would land and reignite it all. "Nnh, hnng..."
On any other day, those sounds would have quite excited Arthur. But Alfred was being punished this time, and Arthur hadn't any intention of getting sexual with his former colony. Though the sight of that red-hot bottom and the heat from it, the texture of the welts from the handle, they were very fine to look at indeed. Like a work of art, and in a way he supposed it was. Eventually the squirming slowed, and the American was reduced to petulant whines and heavy breaths.
When Arthur did get those short, pained cries and eventual whines and whimpers, he finally stilled those swats. Setting the spoon aside, his hand mercifully came to rub at that abused backside, causing a bit more pain before it would start to soothe. "There now... was that so hard, you insolent little drunk?"
Alfred let his body relax across the other's knees, grateful for the hand that still came up to rub his sore bottom even at his age. A small (or perhaps even a large) part of him wanted to retort that yes, it was so hard after all, but the urge was easily quelled by focusing on his throbbing ass. "Hnn... no, sir."
Ah, the use of the word sir excited Arthur even further. He didn't know if it had been intentional at all or if Alfred had slipped into a subspace because of the familiar and long-ago used position. Arthur did have a guilty pleasure in being the only one that Alfred would submit to like that without a fight. Despite all of his bluster and his sometimes infuriating confidence, Alfred was a good boy with a good heart, and in many ways Arthur couldn’t help but find this thought endearing as he continued to rub that sore bottom.
Unfortunately for Alfred, he was starting to notice feel the way Arthur's hand was rubbing away the sting in a slightly different light; as drunk as he was, it was starting to give his body ideas. Trying to be subtle about it, though in reality he was much less successful at this than he imagined himself to be-eeven sober he had trouble with subtlety-his body rocked gently back into the touch with a soft noise.
Arthur was perplexed at first-just what was Alfred doing? The spanking itself was over, and it shouldn't hurt that badly to have it rubbed, so why was he squirming now? ...Oh. Arthur couldn't help but grin, letting his fingers roam down between those thighs a little, but really nowhere near anything vital. "Something you want to ask for, Alfred?"
Sidecar [3c/3]
anonymous
November 3 2011, 13:32:32 UTC
Alfred let out a pathetic whine as those fingers traced the inside of his thighs. His body pressed back into the touch again, as if trying to coax that hand to move elsewhere... When he turned his head over his shoulder to look up at Arthur, his face was a bit flushed, though it was hard to determine how much of it was from the alcohol itself and how much was from the consequences he'd suffered for drinking it. His eyebrows were raised almost impossibly high, pupils dilated in an exaggerated, sloppy attempt at a puppy-dog look. Arthur was admittedly weak to that puppy-dog expression, but right now, it merely seemed desperate. Not that he didn’t enjoy that as well, but the Brit did have standards, no matter what anyone said. Unless he was also drunk, he had no excuse to take advantage of an inebriated person! The whiny "Please!" that spilled from Alfred’s lips next was also tainted with pathetic, inebriated want. "C'monnn, you know what I want, Arthur." He swallowed, his voice still a whine. "Don' make me say it."
"Say what Alfred?" Arthur prodded, fingers sliding up and over the curve of one shapely cheek, teasing. His middle finger traced down along the cleft of those red cheeks, though he made no effort at all to actually slide between them. Up and down, up and down. "I taught you well enough didn't I? If you want something you have to ask for it clearly, or else no one will listen."
Alfred could hear a faint strain of amusement in Arthur's voice as the other slid a finger lightly down the cleft of his ass, though he couldn't tell for certain if it was because the Brit was amused by teasing him or because of something he himself had said or done. And it seemed Alfred would be getting nothing more than teasing unless he spoke his wants aloud. Normally he would be more forward to start with, but there was something about being over Arthur's knees with a still-hot ass that made him uncharacteristically reticent-perhaps it was a carryover from his younger days when he was no stranger to this position, or maybe it was the lack of power that it implied. Still, if Arthur was telling him to ask for it, then there was clearly no harm in it. When he spoke up this time, his voice had lost most of the whiny edge to it, though it still didn't quite match his usual assertive overconfidence. "I want you to fuck me, Arthur..." And here he used 'fuck me' loosely, not implying any act in particular, giving it less emphasis than he might have if he were trying sincerely to seduce. "Wanna have sex, I mean," he clarified, his words still a bit slurred. Even so, his first statement seemed perfectly accurate, given the fact that, though mentally he was in the mood, he hadn't gotten much more than half-hard, damn the booze. His eyebrows, if possible, rose even higher on his face as he continued to look over his shoulder expectantly.
Arthur was more than satisfied with those words, and his grin showed it. On any other day he would have quickly given in and given the American nation just what he wanted: a fuck, fast and hard. It was a wonderful thing, the endurance and strength of his former charge. He had such a high tolerance, the former British Empire never had to hold back even slightly. But as he'd resolved to himself earlier, he had standards. Taking advantage of a drunk and begging American was not within those standards. Even if Alfred wouldn't regret it, this was still a lesson. "I'm afraid I can't do that Alfred," he said with an expression of pity. "You've gotten yourself quite drunk, you see, and I don't fancy a sloppy and half-witless bottom." He patted said 'bottom', which had always indicated that Alfred was allowed get off of his lap. "Up you go, tonight you'll go to bed with a bottom sore only from punishment. And if you still feel like that fuck you want so badly right now, ring me up tomorrow and we'll see if we can't arrange something without breaking your law."
Sidecar [3d/3]
anonymous
November 3 2011, 13:33:15 UTC
Alfred's face fell as soon as he heard those first words of rejection. Why, why had Arthur even asked him to say it if he'd never had any intention of indulging him in the first place? Alfred could understand not wanting to sleep with him when he was drunk, but he was frustrated and felt a bit led-on by the fact that he hadn't been turned down right away. With a small pout, he raised himself from Arthur's lap and righted his clothing, since it had been made more than clear that it wouldn't be coming off. "Fine," he replied, not quite rudely but curtly enough that it was clear the American had nothing more to say on the subject.
Arthur stood up as well, smoothing out his shirt. He couldn't help but keep most of his smile. "Not that I don't love your contrite expression, but do you have to pout quite so much? I don't think you can even get it up in your current state, and I don't fancy a partner who won't derive equal pleasure from intercourse," Arthur said honestly. "If you don't like it, then remember that it was your choice to get piss-drunk once you were out of my sight.”
Alfred rolled his eyes. "Well, is that what you came here for?" he asked as he rubbed his bottom pointedly. "Or is there something else?" Coming from a tipsy Alfred, it was a relatively tactful way of asking the other to leave if that was all.
Now it was Arthur’s turn to roll his eyes. “I came over here to clear up our abruptly ended conversation from earlier, only to find you like this. I didn't come to punish you for trying to uphold your ideals and laws, not until I saw you'd broken them right after attempting to scold me." He explained, moving over towards the door. "I'll go then, back to the hotel. Do you think I can still get a taxi this late? I might need your phone," he asked as he slipped on his shoes.
"Sure you can. I'll call for one for you, make sure you get a ride back," Al offered in a tone that wasn't quite as good-humored as usual, but still helpful. As he approached the phone, however, it dawned on him that it probably wasn't the best idea for him to be calling anyone in his currently inebriated state, just in case said state was evident in his voice, as it had been when Arthur had first arrived. "Er, actually, maybe you should talk to 'em," he amended, offering the earpiece of his candlestick-style phone to the other nation as he entered the number of the taxi service with the rotary dial on its base. Once he had finished, he handed over the mouthpiece as well.
Arthur gave a bit of a knowing grin when Alfred changed his mind, taking the phone as it was handed to him. He spoke to the taxi service, securing himself a ride. Hanging up, he headed for the door again. "I'll wait outside. You could use some fresh air as well,” he said with a bit of a smile again, slipping on his coat; Alfred took the suggestion, following Arthur outside and shutting the door behind them as they left his building. "You're not going to go back and start drinking again are you? If I come over tomorrow to find you rolling around in bed I'm going to shove every home remedy down your throat until you remedy your evil drinking ways," Arthur chuckled, unable to resist the slight mocking of Alfred's earlier lecture.
"Hah, well you don't have to worry about that," the American nation reassured dryly; he had no intentions of drinking himself to the point of a hangover the next day. "I've already gotten myself enough of a headache over it." Among other aches, but he left that comment unspoken. With a slightly forced laugh, he changed the subject. "So... how long do you plan on staying here? You never actually mentioned it this morning." He stuffed his hands into his the pockets of his trousers, shivering a bit. Though it had been a bit humid earlier in the evening, the temperature had since dropped significantly and the weather was now somewhat brisk. Of course, Alfred hadn't thought to put on his own jacket since he was only planning on being outside until the taxi arrived.
Sidecar [3e/3]
anonymous
November 3 2011, 13:34:40 UTC
Moving over to the American, Arthur even wrapped his arm around him to try and keep him warm. Blood being a bit thinner, Alfred would get colder faster, after all. “Only for a few days. My own boss isn't too happy, and I told him I was only coming over to catch up and 'talk some sense' into you." He chuckled a bit. "Well at least I can go home and tell him I gave you a good thrashing. I'm sure that will appease him somewhat." He was teasing of course, but Alfred didn't know that. He wasn't bitter enough to actually get the American nation in trouble with his boss, nor brag about punishing him. He didn't actually need his ego stroked that badly. After all, he'd had the superpower nation over his lap just a bit ago, so how could he not be satisfied?
"You wouldn't," came the mock-horrified reply. Alfred knew Arthur wouldn't actually tell his boss that... or at least he sincerely hoped not, especially given the circumstances for the punishment. His eyes widened for a second when he felt Arthur’s arm wrap around him, but he quickly relaxed into it, letting his head tilt to the side to rest his cheek against Arthur's blond head. When he finally saw the recognizable pattern of the taxi approaching from down the street, he stepped away from the other nation and gestured in its direction. "Looks like your ride's here." Then he flashed a genuine smile, as if to say 'no hard feelings.'
Arthur looked up when Alfred spoke. "I suppose so," he said, pulling away. Without looking back, he headed down the path to the street. "See you tomorrow Alfred," he said as he waved.
"Yeah," Alfred repeated, "see you tomorrow." The American remained outside and watched until Arthur had gotten into the taxi and the vehicle had driven off, before turning around and heading back into the house, locking the door behind him. Kicking his shoes back off, he wandered back into the kitchen, this time seeking a drink of water. Upon seeing his half-full glass of liquor still resting forgotten on the table, he grabbed it and dumped what remained immediately and unceremoniously into the sink. After having taken care of that matter, he poured himself some water instead, knowing that finishing a glass before heading to bed would stave off the effects of a possible hangover. He’d already gotten enough of a headache from booze today, he thought.
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Oh Alfred, what a waste of Cointreau! That stuff’s expensive!
Anyone who has suspected who I am may have known to expect this by now; for those who don’t, your A!A likes to draw illustrations to go with his fills. So here you are: http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p204/false_dichotomy/TY.png If my attempt at period-clothing is off, don’t hold it against me; my knowledge is in the legislation and temperance culture of the period.
Aaand that’s all, folks! I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride, this was fun as hell to write and I hope it was as fun to read.
Anon 1: Haha, well I hope this spanking satisfies you! Anon 2: My dear bunk!anon, of course I recognize you. ♥ Wooden spoons are definitely sadly underused in fanfiction and they are popular implements in my country too-I can attest to that. Surprisingly nasty things, too. DX There’s a time and place for PWP in my writing, believe me, but I wanted to really bring out the history in this fill (and the psychology in my AU). By the way, I really do love how much sharing this kink makes us run into each other, haha. Anon 3: I gather you’ve figured out if this is the same author or not judging my the existence and style of your A!A’s illustration here. I’m glad you appreciated the buildup, hopefully the denoument was a satisfactory ending as well.
Bunk!anon is pleased, extremely so.
anonymous
November 3 2011, 22:43:51 UTC
You know, after your let's say a little bit sadistic version of England in the other fic (that, as you know, I enjoyed more than I should), this was a very pleasant change; England as strict but fair and in the and, a very caring parental figure is my personal headcanon and also one of my favourite roles for him.
I also absolutely love that you didn't let him have sex with America. It's so rare to see fics where characters don't automatically act on their sexual drives and actually think about the consequences, let alone some internal moral rules. England ended it up in the best way possible, the hug at the end made me melt and it was a lovely story that I would read even if it wouldn't contain my favourite kink.
As for the kink itself, it was as always done with precision and vivid descriptions that I so enjoy in your writings (haha did I really write this about a scene with wooden spoon spanking?) And the illustration is as always the best bonus ever.
I really hope we'll run into each other soon, authoranon (too bad I don't use my terribly old ff.net account, I would gladly deanon for you.)
I also tend to prefer England as a caring parental figure in canon fics (nevermind my AU, so this was certainly a refreshing change from him being such a bastard in my other fills. XD
I'm glad that the lack of sex is appreciated; I was worried people would be expecting to read sex, given the prompt, and would be disappointed when it wasn't there. But you know me-- I strongly prefer realism, and I honestly don't think England (at least the way I've written him in this fic!) would take advantage of that drunkenness. And as always, my vivid descriptions are because I know what I'm talking about, haha. Happy you enjoyed the artwork as well! I'm quite proud of this one.
I could maybe give you my MSN messenger/email account in white text, if you'd like to keep in contact elsewhere besides the meme? I don't see myself writing much in the near future because of exams and such, sadly. Or I could tell you where on LJ I've de-anoned my fics and you could find me that way.
Alfred sucked in a breath when he felt his bottom being exposed completely, tensing up involuntarily in anticipation. Arthur wasn’t quite finished with his lecture yet, however, as he still hadn’t addressed the accusation that Toris actually likes taking care of me. Such presumption wouldn’t do, not at all! "Oh, I enjoyed taking care of you Alfred... when you behaved." He concluded with a slight sneer. Lifting the spoon, the flatter side of it came down with a sharp smack! He only used the rounded end of it, which kept the swats more localized, making little pink circles with each sharp smack of wood on flesh.
That first swat hurt more than Alfred had anticipated, a lot more, in fact. In surprise, he let out a small whimper at the sharp, concentrated pain. Oh, no he wouldn’t, he decided as soon as he heard the noise leave his lips. Arthur could spank him all he wanted, but Alfred was determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much the punishment hurt his former charge. This determination had never lasted in the past, of course; or at the very least, it had never outlasted Arthur's resolve to get a response out of him, but that wouldn't stop him from trying now. After a few sharp swats, Alfred found himself squirming across the English nation's lap, his bottom really starting to feel the sting now, though he still stubbornly persevered in making no sound.
Those little round swats soon began to fade into a general flush, the sharp smacks starting to overlap. The sting continued to build with each swat, and Alfred's ass was starting to throb with the heat being brought on by that wooden spoon as the chastised flesh became more and more sensitized to the spoon’s impact. Even so, he managed to keep himself relatively silent, the only audible indication of the burn that was spreading through his bottom being the harsh, hissing exhales of breath forcing their way through the younger nation's teeth with every few smacks. Alfred’s's fingers dug into the upholstery of the couch, the muscles tensing each time the spoon landed on his now deep-pink cheeks.
Arthur saw no reason to hold back other than the spoon's strength. Even if that failed him, it wouldn't be the first time he'd broken something over Alfred's ass-the boy was a stubborn one! Knowing this, it wasn't hard to anticipate Alfred's little 'rebellion'. He didn't want to make a sound, eh? Well, that wasn't going to last long! Those perky cheeks were giving a little bounce with each heavy swat, and Arthur knew how bad that sting would grow as he watched that color slowly turn to a dark pink. He might have stopped about now had Alfred not been cheeky with him and then decided to stay quiet, but the younger man had made the wrong choice with his drunken ramblings, and Arthur wasn’t nearly done with him yet.
After what felt like forever, even if Alfred's judgment of time hadn't been muddled with alcohol, the swats suddenly stopped falling. He let out a sigh of relief, which quickly turned into a yelp. "Aah!" It was different sensation, which he wasn't prepared for, with the added sting of the new smack now being concentrated in a long line rather than a tight circle. Even if Alfred had been expecting it, he likely couldn't have kept quiet; this new pain seemed to penetrate deeper than before.
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The cries were not slow in coming. "Ah! Ow! Nngh!" It was as if Alfred couldn't hold back anymore once he'd started to acknowledge the pain he was in. The noises were quiet at first, but as his ass became littered with deep red stripes across the already-darkened flesh, they grew louder. Just when Alfred thought the sting couldn't intensify, another strike would land and reignite it all. "Nnh, hnng..."
On any other day, those sounds would have quite excited Arthur. But Alfred was being punished this time, and Arthur hadn't any intention of getting sexual with his former colony. Though the sight of that red-hot bottom and the heat from it, the texture of the welts from the handle, they were very fine to look at indeed. Like a work of art, and in a way he supposed it was. Eventually the squirming slowed, and the American was reduced to petulant whines and heavy breaths.
When Arthur did get those short, pained cries and eventual whines and whimpers, he finally stilled those swats. Setting the spoon aside, his hand mercifully came to rub at that abused backside, causing a bit more pain before it would start to soothe. "There now... was that so hard, you insolent little drunk?"
Alfred let his body relax across the other's knees, grateful for the hand that still came up to rub his sore bottom even at his age. A small (or perhaps even a large) part of him wanted to retort that yes, it was so hard after all, but the urge was easily quelled by focusing on his throbbing ass. "Hnn... no, sir."
Ah, the use of the word sir excited Arthur even further. He didn't know if it had been intentional at all or if Alfred had slipped into a subspace because of the familiar and long-ago used position. Arthur did have a guilty pleasure in being the only one that Alfred would submit to like that without a fight. Despite all of his bluster and his sometimes infuriating confidence, Alfred was a good boy with a good heart, and in many ways Arthur couldn’t help but find this thought endearing as he continued to rub that sore bottom.
Unfortunately for Alfred, he was starting to notice feel the way Arthur's hand was rubbing away the sting in a slightly different light; as drunk as he was, it was starting to give his body ideas. Trying to be subtle about it, though in reality he was much less successful at this than he imagined himself to be-eeven sober he had trouble with subtlety-his body rocked gently back into the touch with a soft noise.
Arthur was perplexed at first-just what was Alfred doing? The spanking itself was over, and it shouldn't hurt that badly to have it rubbed, so why was he squirming now? ...Oh. Arthur couldn't help but grin, letting his fingers roam down between those thighs a little, but really nowhere near anything vital. "Something you want to ask for, Alfred?"
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"Say what Alfred?" Arthur prodded, fingers sliding up and over the curve of one shapely cheek, teasing. His middle finger traced down along the cleft of those red cheeks, though he made no effort at all to actually slide between them. Up and down, up and down. "I taught you well enough didn't I? If you want something you have to ask for it clearly, or else no one will listen."
Alfred could hear a faint strain of amusement in Arthur's voice as the other slid a finger lightly down the cleft of his ass, though he couldn't tell for certain if it was because the Brit was amused by teasing him or because of something he himself had said or done. And it seemed Alfred would be getting nothing more than teasing unless he spoke his wants aloud. Normally he would be more forward to start with, but there was something about being over Arthur's knees with a still-hot ass that made him uncharacteristically reticent-perhaps it was a carryover from his younger days when he was no stranger to this position, or maybe it was the lack of power that it implied. Still, if Arthur was telling him to ask for it, then there was clearly no harm in it. When he spoke up this time, his voice had lost most of the whiny edge to it, though it still didn't quite match his usual assertive overconfidence. "I want you to fuck me, Arthur..." And here he used 'fuck me' loosely, not implying any act in particular, giving it less emphasis than he might have if he were trying sincerely to seduce. "Wanna have sex, I mean," he clarified, his words still a bit slurred. Even so, his first statement seemed perfectly accurate, given the fact that, though mentally he was in the mood, he hadn't gotten much more than half-hard, damn the booze. His eyebrows, if possible, rose even higher on his face as he continued to look over his shoulder expectantly.
Arthur was more than satisfied with those words, and his grin showed it. On any other day he would have quickly given in and given the American nation just what he wanted: a fuck, fast and hard. It was a wonderful thing, the endurance and strength of his former charge. He had such a high tolerance, the former British Empire never had to hold back even slightly. But as he'd resolved to himself earlier, he had standards. Taking advantage of a drunk and begging American was not within those standards. Even if Alfred wouldn't regret it, this was still a lesson. "I'm afraid I can't do that Alfred," he said with an expression of pity. "You've gotten yourself quite drunk, you see, and I don't fancy a sloppy and half-witless bottom." He patted said 'bottom', which had always indicated that Alfred was allowed get off of his lap. "Up you go, tonight you'll go to bed with a bottom sore only from punishment. And if you still feel like that fuck you want so badly right now, ring me up tomorrow and we'll see if we can't arrange something without breaking your law."
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Arthur stood up as well, smoothing out his shirt. He couldn't help but keep most of his smile. "Not that I don't love your contrite expression, but do you have to pout quite so much? I don't think you can even get it up in your current state, and I don't fancy a partner who won't derive equal pleasure from intercourse," Arthur said honestly. "If you don't like it, then remember that it was your choice to get piss-drunk once you were out of my sight.”
Alfred rolled his eyes. "Well, is that what you came here for?" he asked as he rubbed his bottom pointedly. "Or is there something else?" Coming from a tipsy Alfred, it was a relatively tactful way of asking the other to leave if that was all.
Now it was Arthur’s turn to roll his eyes. “I came over here to clear up our abruptly ended conversation from earlier, only to find you like this. I didn't come to punish you for trying to uphold your ideals and laws, not until I saw you'd broken them right after attempting to scold me." He explained, moving over towards the door. "I'll go then, back to the hotel. Do you think I can still get a taxi this late? I might need your phone," he asked as he slipped on his shoes.
"Sure you can. I'll call for one for you, make sure you get a ride back," Al offered in a tone that wasn't quite as good-humored as usual, but still helpful. As he approached the phone, however, it dawned on him that it probably wasn't the best idea for him to be calling anyone in his currently inebriated state, just in case said state was evident in his voice, as it had been when Arthur had first arrived. "Er, actually, maybe you should talk to 'em," he amended, offering the earpiece of his candlestick-style phone to the other nation as he entered the number of the taxi service with the rotary dial on its base. Once he had finished, he handed over the mouthpiece as well.
Arthur gave a bit of a knowing grin when Alfred changed his mind, taking the phone as it was handed to him. He spoke to the taxi service, securing himself a ride. Hanging up, he headed for the door again. "I'll wait outside. You could use some fresh air as well,” he said with a bit of a smile again, slipping on his coat; Alfred took the suggestion, following Arthur outside and shutting the door behind them as they left his building. "You're not going to go back and start drinking again are you? If I come over tomorrow to find you rolling around in bed I'm going to shove every home remedy down your throat until you remedy your evil drinking ways," Arthur chuckled, unable to resist the slight mocking of Alfred's earlier lecture.
"Hah, well you don't have to worry about that," the American nation reassured dryly; he had no intentions of drinking himself to the point of a hangover the next day. "I've already gotten myself enough of a headache over it." Among other aches, but he left that comment unspoken. With a slightly forced laugh, he changed the subject. "So... how long do you plan on staying here? You never actually mentioned it this morning." He stuffed his hands into his the pockets of his trousers, shivering a bit. Though it had been a bit humid earlier in the evening, the temperature had since dropped significantly and the weather was now somewhat brisk. Of course, Alfred hadn't thought to put on his own jacket since he was only planning on being outside until the taxi arrived.
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"You wouldn't," came the mock-horrified reply. Alfred knew Arthur wouldn't actually tell his boss that... or at least he sincerely hoped not, especially given the circumstances for the punishment. His eyes widened for a second when he felt Arthur’s arm wrap around him, but he quickly relaxed into it, letting his head tilt to the side to rest his cheek against Arthur's blond head. When he finally saw the recognizable pattern of the taxi approaching from down the street, he stepped away from the other nation and gestured in its direction. "Looks like your ride's here." Then he flashed a genuine smile, as if to say 'no hard feelings.'
Arthur looked up when Alfred spoke. "I suppose so," he said, pulling away. Without looking back, he headed down the path to the street. "See you tomorrow Alfred," he said as he waved.
"Yeah," Alfred repeated, "see you tomorrow." The American remained outside and watched until Arthur had gotten into the taxi and the vehicle had driven off, before turning around and heading back into the house, locking the door behind him. Kicking his shoes back off, he wandered back into the kitchen, this time seeking a drink of water. Upon seeing his half-full glass of liquor still resting forgotten on the table, he grabbed it and dumped what remained immediately and unceremoniously into the sink. After having taken care of that matter, he poured himself some water instead, knowing that finishing a glass before heading to bed would stave off the effects of a possible hangover. He’d already gotten enough of a headache from booze today, he thought.
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Oh Alfred, what a waste of Cointreau! That stuff’s expensive!
Anyone who has suspected who I am may have known to expect this by now; for those who don’t, your A!A likes to draw illustrations to go with his fills. So here you are: http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p204/false_dichotomy/TY.png
If my attempt at period-clothing is off, don’t hold it against me; my knowledge is in the legislation and temperance culture of the period.
Aaand that’s all, folks! I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride, this was fun as hell to write and I hope it was as fun to read.
Anon 1: Haha, well I hope this spanking satisfies you!
Anon 2: My dear bunk!anon, of course I recognize you. ♥ Wooden spoons are definitely sadly underused in fanfiction and they are popular implements in my country too-I can attest to that. Surprisingly nasty things, too. DX There’s a time and place for PWP in my writing, believe me, but I wanted to really bring out the history in this fill (and the psychology in my AU). By the way, I really do love how much sharing this kink makes us run into each other, haha.
Anon 3: I gather you’ve figured out if this is the same author or not judging my the existence and style of your A!A’s illustration here. I’m glad you appreciated the buildup, hopefully the denoument was a satisfactory ending as well.
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I also absolutely love that you didn't let him have sex with America. It's so rare to see fics where characters don't automatically act on their sexual drives and actually think about the consequences, let alone some internal moral rules. England ended it up in the best way possible, the hug at the end made me melt and it was a lovely story that I would read even if it wouldn't contain my favourite kink.
As for the kink itself, it was as always done with precision and vivid descriptions that I so enjoy in your writings (haha did I really write this about a scene with wooden spoon spanking?) And the illustration is as always the best bonus ever.
I really hope we'll run into each other soon, authoranon (too bad I don't use my terribly old ff.net account, I would gladly deanon for you.)
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I'm glad that the lack of sex is appreciated; I was worried people would be expecting to read sex, given the prompt, and would be disappointed when it wasn't there. But you know me-- I strongly prefer realism, and I honestly don't think England (at least the way I've written him in this fic!) would take advantage of that drunkenness. And as always, my vivid descriptions are because I know what I'm talking about, haha. Happy you enjoyed the artwork as well! I'm quite proud of this one.
I could maybe give you my MSN messenger/email account in white text, if you'd like to keep in contact elsewhere besides the meme? I don't see myself writing much in the near future because of exams and such, sadly. Or I could tell you where on LJ I've de-anoned my fics and you could find me that way.
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