Kilt Check (1/2)
anonymous
March 20 2009, 16:42:33 UTC
Wooo Kilts. there isn't as much porn as I thought there was going to be, sorry! ********** Arthur was just finishing up his tie when he heard the loud knocking. Only one nation ever knocked that obnoxiously, then came in anyway, so he knew America had come early. He shrugged on his vest while listening to the sound of heavy boots and a light whistle, doing up the square, silver buttons when his former colony found him.
“You’re not ready yet?” Arthur could see him in the mirror, leaning roguishly against the door frame. America’s golden hair lay over his head in the haphazard style he always had, blue eyes looking over square frames at him, meeting The United Kingdom’s own green ones in the mirror.
“No, unlike some, I put a lot of effort into my appearance for such events.” He eyed the American’s outfit. Rebellious, but that was his way, wasn’t it? The denim kilt fit him to the letter, accenting low hips and strong legs. The dark blue of his highland shirt made his exposed neck and chest look more golden, his eyes bluer. His sporran was black leather, his kilt pin and belt buckle silver, everything embossed with a proud eagle. The kilt hose and flashes were subdued, a sgian dubh glinted in the bathroom’s light, and even his boots were shined.
Arthur drew a sharp breath. Judging by the look being thrown his way, the cheeky bugger knew he looked good in it.
Alfred winked, his smile big and broad and so much like him.
“I see you’re wearing that again this year,” Alfred pointed at the Englishman’s outfit, teasingly.
“The Northumberland tartan is older than you know, boy, and I’m proud to wear it,” He did up the rest of the buttons on his vest. The Argyll jacket lay over a chair nearby, the finishing piece to Arthur’s ensemble. His sporran was as old and well loved as his kilt, which the American had seen on him more times than he could count. The buckle and kilt pin bore a rampant lion. He had to admit that his former Kingdom made it look good, from jacket to ghillie brogues and everything in between. “I assume, since you neglected to show up in something more traditional, that you plan on competing again this year?”
“Of course. I may even win the caber toss this time around.”
Arthur had to give his boy credit. What he lacked in what others would call ‘finesse’, he made up in strength, and he competed in all heavy events, most of which he easily won.
“Hey, what’s worn under your kilt?” Arthur couldn’t help but notice the mischievous glint in the other’s eyes.
“Nothing, it’s all in perfect working order.” He smiled; it had been a long while since he had the opportunity to say that.
Re: Kilt Check (2/2)
anonymous
March 20 2009, 16:43:25 UTC
“Then it would be perfectly fine for me to do a kilt inspection, then?” America had to laugh at the squawk of surprise his elder let out when he pounced, pinning him to the counter. Warm hands found the Englishman’s thighs, pushing the wool fabric up as he went.
“Just don’t wrinkle anything,” he felt the American nod behind him, pressing kissed to what little exposed neck he could find, “or stain anything.” He let his former charge turn him around, whose hands roamed around under the kilt, and kiss him properly. Alfred caught the Kingdom’s moan in his mouth, deepened the kiss, and quickened his pace. Arthur’s hands were in his hair, pushing him downward. He went with a smirk on his lips, dropping to his knees and allowing the kilt to spread around him.
Arthur also had to give credit to his boy for enthusiasm. He knew how to please, putting his big mouth to some good use. He was always hot and eager, taking everything the Englishman gave, swallowing him whole, and knowing how to use his tongue for maximum effect. After everything they had been through, this was Arthur’s first time seeing that blond head under his kilt. He worried he may never be able to wear it without remembering, but worry didn’t stop him from coming with a yell into Alfred’s mouth.
“Did I pass inspection?” He helped the American to his feet and wiped the younger nation’s mouth with his fingers.
“Aye,” Alfred leaned down, brushing a small kiss across his lover’s lips, “but we should get going, Matthew’s waiting at the field already.”
“What about you?” Arthur raked his knuckles over the front of Alfred’s kilt; the denim was rough, thoroughly American. It was his turn to spin his lover. They stood back to front, two sets of hands pulling up the taller nation’s kilt and pulling down the athletic shorts he wore. The Englishmen chuckled, “Hmm, I thought I taught you better.”
“What? I don’t have time to put them on at the field before the caber toss, and you know regulations,” one hard stroke silenced him; his head fell back onto the strong shoulder of England. He let his English lover kiss and stroke him to completion, nearly coming a second a time while he watched aforementioned lover lick spend from his hand before righting their clothing and hair.
“Shall we?” Arthur grabbed his jacket, allowing Alfred to fasten the buttons for him. “Do you think I have a chance at winning the caber toss today?” “Not if Matthew is competing.” He ducked as his former colony swatted in his general direction, “but I’m sure I could give you some incentive for coming home with first prize.” ***
Ilu, authornon! The characterization was epic, and the description put into what they're wearing (Alfred so would have a denim kilt! And Arthur's tartan! SO MUCH <3)! ajhghsfdjl! *makes attempts at coherency and fails*
**********
Arthur was just finishing up his tie when he heard the loud knocking. Only one nation ever knocked that obnoxiously, then came in anyway, so he knew America had come early. He shrugged on his vest while listening to the sound of heavy boots and a light whistle, doing up the square, silver buttons when his former colony found him.
“You’re not ready yet?” Arthur could see him in the mirror, leaning roguishly against the door frame. America’s golden hair lay over his head in the haphazard style he always had, blue eyes looking over square frames at him, meeting The United Kingdom’s own green ones in the mirror.
“No, unlike some, I put a lot of effort into my appearance for such events.” He eyed the American’s outfit. Rebellious, but that was his way, wasn’t it? The denim kilt fit him to the letter, accenting low hips and strong legs. The dark blue of his highland shirt made his exposed neck and chest look more golden, his eyes bluer. His sporran was black leather, his kilt pin and belt buckle silver, everything embossed with a proud eagle. The kilt hose and flashes were subdued, a sgian dubh glinted in the bathroom’s light, and even his boots were shined.
Arthur drew a sharp breath. Judging by the look being thrown his way, the cheeky bugger knew he looked good in it.
Alfred winked, his smile big and broad and so much like him.
“I see you’re wearing that again this year,” Alfred pointed at the Englishman’s outfit, teasingly.
“The Northumberland tartan is older than you know, boy, and I’m proud to wear it,” He did up the rest of the buttons on his vest. The Argyll jacket lay over a chair nearby, the finishing piece to Arthur’s ensemble. His sporran was as old and well loved as his kilt, which the American had seen on him more times than he could count. The buckle and kilt pin bore a rampant lion. He had to admit that his former Kingdom made it look good, from jacket to ghillie brogues and everything in between. “I assume, since you neglected to show up in something more traditional, that you plan on competing again this year?”
“Of course. I may even win the caber toss this time around.”
Arthur had to give his boy credit. What he lacked in what others would call ‘finesse’, he made up in strength, and he competed in all heavy events, most of which he easily won.
“Hey, what’s worn under your kilt?” Arthur couldn’t help but notice the mischievous glint in the other’s eyes.
“Nothing, it’s all in perfect working order.” He smiled; it had been a long while since he had the opportunity to say that.
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“Just don’t wrinkle anything,” he felt the American nod behind him, pressing kissed to what little exposed neck he could find, “or stain anything.” He let his former charge turn him around, whose hands roamed around under the kilt, and kiss him properly. Alfred caught the Kingdom’s moan in his mouth, deepened the kiss, and quickened his pace. Arthur’s hands were in his hair, pushing him downward. He went with a smirk on his lips, dropping to his knees and allowing the kilt to spread around him.
Arthur also had to give credit to his boy for enthusiasm. He knew how to please, putting his big mouth to some good use. He was always hot and eager, taking everything the Englishman gave, swallowing him whole, and knowing how to use his tongue for maximum effect. After everything they had been through, this was Arthur’s first time seeing that blond head under his kilt. He worried he may never be able to wear it without remembering, but worry didn’t stop him from coming with a yell into Alfred’s mouth.
“Did I pass inspection?” He helped the American to his feet and wiped the younger nation’s mouth with his fingers.
“Aye,” Alfred leaned down, brushing a small kiss across his lover’s lips, “but we should get going, Matthew’s waiting at the field already.”
“What about you?” Arthur raked his knuckles over the front of Alfred’s kilt; the denim was rough, thoroughly American. It was his turn to spin his lover. They stood back to front, two sets of hands pulling up the taller nation’s kilt and pulling down the athletic shorts he wore. The Englishmen chuckled, “Hmm, I thought I taught you better.”
“What? I don’t have time to put them on at the field before the caber toss, and you know regulations,” one hard stroke silenced him; his head fell back onto the strong shoulder of England. He let his English lover kiss and stroke him to completion, nearly coming a second a time while he watched aforementioned lover lick spend from his hand before righting their clothing and hair.
“Shall we?” Arthur grabbed his jacket, allowing Alfred to fasten the buttons for him.
“Do you think I have a chance at winning the caber toss today?”
“Not if Matthew is competing.” He ducked as his former colony swatted in his general direction, “but I’m sure I could give you some incentive for coming home with first prize.”
***
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*flails happily*
Ilu, authornon! The characterization was epic, and the description put into what they're wearing (Alfred so would have a denim kilt! And Arthur's tartan! SO MUCH <3)! ajhghsfdjl! *makes attempts at coherency and fails*
<3333333!
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But yeah, I had a hard time picking out Arthur's kilt, (TOO MANY CHOICES, Srsly folks.) So I'm glad my choice pleased you : )
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