[APH Fic] Skin [US/UK]
Genre: Romance/fluff
Pairing(s): America and England
Rating/Warnings: R for some non-explicit, non-penetrative almost-sex. Also body porn.
Summary: Arthur is prim, proper, and wears a lot of clothing. Alfred just spends a lot of time fantasizing about him.
Prompt: 31- England, when he's not drunk off his ass, is so prim, proper and modest. He always modestly and properly dressed and always cover from neck to toe, except his head and hands. Sometimes not even his hands, because more often than not he wears gloves. Keeping that in mind, I want America to be fixated with whatever bit of skin is exposed, be it nape or just a wrist and somehow feeling prideful that he is the only one who can see England bare for his eyes only. I strayed a bit from the prompt, it became more of America fantasizing about England's exposed parts from underneath a three-piece suit. I dunno. Good times.
Arthur arrived late. Not that this was a surprise to Alfred, of course; when he had finished preparing himself for the meeting that morning, Arthur had told him to go along without him. Arthur had woken “under the weather” and wanted to be sure he was in “top shape” for what promised to be a long, intense meeting.
The Allied Control Council was having a rare meeting outside of Berlin, instead opting to meet in London in the Parliament building. Alfred was sitting at the far end of the table, watching the snow drift past the windows and stealing glances at the clock until Arthur had arrived, thirty-four minutes late. He slid into the room like a ghost and shrugged out of his charcoal wool pea coat, a thin layer of snow dusting his shoulders white. He slipped the coat onto the back of his chair and re-positioned his suit jacket on his shoulders as he sat down, taking out a notepad to try to catch up on the meeting. Francis had been talking for a while now, although his attention was more directed at the former Axis powers than any of the Allies that were surrounding him.
Of course, Alfred just focused on Arthur. He wasn’t the keynote speaker at this meeting, nor did he have any idea what Francis was talking about. He was addressing his own personal plans that he had formed with his boss, and the others were listening. At least, most of them were.
Arthur had put on his handsome dark gray three-piece suit for this meeting, with a pinstriped Oxford and a deep, royal violet tie. The contrasting darks of his suit made his skin glow like moonlight with a hint of pink, all the way up to his cheeks, which were their usual rosy color from the cold. Alfred trained his eyes on the bit of exposed skin along Arthur’s neck, trailing up his jaw bone to his ear. Right below his chin his skin was cut off, hidden beneath his shirt and tie. He was covered from head to toe; even his hands were covered with thin white silk gloves that had rough patches at the fingertips from use.
Alfred caught Ivan giving him a wayward glance, and he was torn from his thoughts as he realized he hadn’t moved much in the last seven or so minutes. Ivan lifted a pale eyebrow at him.
“Something wrong?” The Russian asked simply, and Alfred shook his head, heat prickling along his skin from his blush. Ivan gave Alfred a skeptical look but then turned back to Francis, tapping his pen idly along his paper.
“...and that’s that,” Francis was finishing as he turned to Alfred and Ivan. “Alfred, Ivan, as the two headlining nations of the Allied Control Council, do you have any comments as of right now from your bosses as to the nature of my proposition?” Alfred looked at Ivan, whose face remained a cheery neutral.
“I have nothing as of right now, Gospodin Francis,” Ivan said. Alfred just shook his head, wanting the attention off of him so no one could see his flush.
“Alright then, I shall continue. Now, as you’re aware, Ludwig, Europe is willing to help economically...” Francis’s alto droned into a dull roar in Alfred’s brain as his attention turned back to Arthur’s smart suit. Although he had gotten in earlier than expected to London, he had yet to consummate his distance from his lover.
They had been separated for four months and twelve days as of that day; Alfred had arrived several hours earlier than expected the night before, early in the evening as opposed to midnight, and was excited to see Arthur as he passed through customs into the airport. He’d been starved of Arthur’s touch, of feeling the smooth white skin against his broad shoulders, small hips bucking against his own. But Arthur had insisted they go to sleep so Alfred could combat his jet lag, and had slept in his long johns and nightshirt, much to Alfred’s dismay.
He barely even got to see his beau that morning, as Arthur had hid in bed and forced Alfred to be early to the meeting to make up for his own absence. Alfred blamed part of his distraction on his sexual frustration, which he thought he’d get taken care of before the meeting. Now he was stuck, tantalizingly close to Arthur, and yet so, so far away.
I wonder why he covers up so much, Alfred thought as he leaned his head on his hands. Arthur flexed his right wrist and exposed the underside of his wrist, bone protruding through the taut skin, blue crisscrossing veins webbing across a plain of white. Alfred gave a small gulp, his mind reeling over the taste of those wrists as he ran his tongue along them in the recesses of the night, causing Arthur to shudder with delight. But alas, the gloves rode back down and covered the exposed ligament, and Alfred frowned and leaned forward, his head hovering mere inches from the table.
Arthur had a pen in his hand, and he wrote with such fluidity and grace, it was artwork to Alfred’s eyes. He took long strokes, using a cursive that was no longer in use with most people, and yet Arthur always took his notes this way. Alfred watched as Arthur set down his pen and undid a bit of the silk tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his pressed Oxford, just exposing a bit of his neck. Alfred’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. It was unseasonably warm in the room, and Arthur was looking warm and flustered as a result. Alfred trailed his eyes over bits of white and pink along Arthur’s neck, his eyes picking out the faint brown freckles that were hiding along Arthur’s collarbone.
Alfred’s middle finger twitched. He hadn’t taken any notes in the time Francis had been talking. Ivan was smiling off into the distance, Ludwig was paying rapt attention and Feliciano was elbowing Romano’s side. Yao looked bored. Arthur put his head in his left hand, his movements pulling the skin of his neck taught over his Adam’s Apple and continued writing, glancing up every once in a while and then looking back down at his notepad. Alfred found himself thinking about how perfectly his lips fit along the curve of Arthur’s neck, and how if he applied the right amount of pressure, the skin would go from white to pink to red in a matter of minutes, leaving a mark.
Arthur pulled his blazer from his shoulders and draped it carefully along the back of his chair. Alfred raised his eyebrows at how sophisticated the pinstripes made Arthur look. They elongated his arms and gave some color to his pallor.
S’hard to believe he’s really a depraved pirate, Alfred mused as Arthur shifted around. The gloves were still on, although they were so delicate and thin that Alfred could practically see the bone poking out from their second epidermis. Alfred turned to Francis, who had stood up and was still talking-it’d only really been about ten minutes since Francis started. He was giving some sort of proposal, to the Council. He was supposed to go over it with his boss afterwards-well, that probably wasn’t going to be very successful.
Alfred glanced back to Arthur and his eyes widened. Arthur was rolling up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. He rolled his sleeves to the elbows, and he still had those gloves on, but he saw the faint outline of the blonde hair growing up his arms, along with the faint expression of the freckles.
Alfred didn’t realize how hard he was gripping his pen until he heard a crack and Matthew was giving him a bewildered look from where he was sitting near Yao. The Canadian tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, and Alfred felt his face heat up. Alfred squirmed in his seat and it was then he felt the familiar tightness below his belt as his arousal grew. Damnit, he just wanted some time to see his (boyfriend?), was that too much to ask? Yes, Europe was a rather sad state right now, but couldn’t it wait?
He then shook his head at the thoughts and pushed them away as the guilt rose in his chest. This is important, he thought. He dropped his pen on the table. Matthew looked from Alfred to Arthur, raised his eyebrows a bare inch, looked back at Alfred, and then glanced up at Francis, raising his hand a bit.
“Francis-perhaps, perhaps we could break now?” he asked, as Francis had walked over to where Ludwig was sitting to give him something. Francis gave a small frown but nodded.
“Alright. I have to speak to Ludwig privately anyway-how about we take a ten-minute rest?” Francis suggested, and the general mood of the room was eh, sure. Alfred gave a half-grin to his brother, who gave a warm smile back. “We’re going to be here for a long time so frequent breaks are good for paying attention-right, Alfred?” Francis said, shooting a look towards the nation. Alfred just winked back at Francis, playing it up as a big joke. But Francis was Francis, and he knew that Francis had probably noticed his lack of attention.
Alfred pushed his chair back and stood, adjusted his own tie and walked over to his beau, who was staring down at his notes. He glanced up at Alfred who was standing above him, tanned hands on his thin shoulders. The slightest hint of a smile graced Arthur’s cheeks as he said “yes?”
“Can I speak with you?” Alfred said, adjusting his blazer. Arthur’s smile faded a bit at the seriousness in his voice, but he nodded and pointed to the vacated seat beside him. Alfred shook his head and pointed to the door. “I want to run something by you that I want to propose to Francis, but I can’t talk about it here.”
“Alright, alright,” Arthur said, standing up. He took his blazer in hand and motioned to Matthew, who was paging through Francis’s proposal. “Matthew? When Ludwig and Francis return, tell them we’ve stepped out for a moment, will you? We’ll be right back.”
“Of course,” Matthew said, and the two left the room, closing the large door behind them. Alfred took Arthur’s (deliciously smooth) wrist and tugged him down the hallway and around the corner. Alfred pushed Arthur against the wall, and Arthur was looking around the corner, making sure no one else was coming near them.
“Alright, Alfred, what-“ but Arthur didn’t finish as Alfred covered his lips with his own. Alfred pressed right against Arthur, pushing him into the wall, hands pressed against the wall on either side of his head. Arthur closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall, although his cheeks were heating up from embarrassment. Alfred pulled away momentarily, breathing heavily, his cheeks rosy and flushed. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, and crossed his arms over his chest as Alfred hovered over him.
“This is what you wanted to talk about?” he said sarcastically, but the sarcasm was lost in his obvious desire for Alfred. Alfred grinned his shit-eating grin at Arthur and leaned in again, placing his lips against the white, inviting neck. “You couldn’t wait for later, dear?” Although, to Alfred’s credit, once the boy was pulling him down the hallway and looking at him with that look, he could feel the heat pooling in his stomach.
“You didn’t let me have anything earlier,” Alfred murmured into his neck, and he laid a kiss against the side. Arthur took a deep, shaky breath in through his nose and wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck, all pressed cotton sleeves and silk gloves weaving through Alfred’s hair. “You cover up so much, what am I supposed to do but think about you?” Arthur chuckled as Alfred pressed against him harder, slightly grinding against his waist and providing delicious friction that made him tremble. He didn’t even notice that Alfred’s light kisses to his neck had become long, dragging trails of tongue and lips and teeth that would surely leave marks, but it felt so good that all Arthur could do was bite his lower lip to keep from crying out.
“You are-incorrigible,” Arthur muttered, but it came out more as a gasp as Alfred nipped his collarbone. Alfred brought his arms around Arthur’s waist and pushed his hips into his own, leaning Arthur’s upper back against the wall. “Y-you should be paying attention, isn’t this the council you s-started?”
“Once I get a little bit of you I can pay attention again,” Alfred said, and he trailed his lips up Arthur’s chin and onto his lips, and allowed Arthur to push his glasses up onto his head as they kissed. Alfred ran a hand down to Arthur’s thigh, trailing his fingers along the muscle and hitting his belt, just underneath where his vest hit his waist. Alfred shifted his own leg so it went in between Arthur’s, applying needed pressure to Arthur’s groin and producing a breathy moan.
Alfred moved from Arthur’s swollen lips to the other side of his neck and he kissed, sucked and nipped at it, reducing Arthur to needy whimpers and gasps. Alfred slid his hands up Arthur’s shirt, underneath his vest, sliding his fingers over taut skin and muscle along Arthur’s abdomen, pulling his shirt out from where it was tucked into his trousers. All while still attending to the exposed bits of Arthur’s neck, undoing a few more buttons on his shirt.
Arthur gasped his name and clutched at Alfred’s upper back, burying his face in Alfred’s hair, relishing his scent. He did really miss him and his touch; Alfred held him so gently and touched with such tenderness that Arthur was seduced by his mere fingertips.
“Alfred, love, w-we only have ten minutes,” Arthur said between heavy breaths. Arthur winced at the familiar sensation of bruising along his neck, and he knew he’d have to find his scarf before he sat back down. His neck would give them away-
“Arthur? Alfred? Are you out here?” a voice called from around the corner. Both Alfred and Arthur looked to the corner, and they heard footsteps getting louder and closer to them. Both men quickly let go of one another and, as fast as they could, arranged themselves, although they were both panting with kiss-swollen lips and rosy cheeks.
A light blonde head poked around the corner and Ivan was looking at them from around the corner, the same placid, slightly troubling smile that he always wore facing them.
“Francis would like to resume; I assume you are, ah, finished?” he said, his eyes never wavering from them. Arthur cleared his throat and nodded.
“Y-yes, Ivan, we’ll be there in a moment. We just need to clarify something,” Arthur said, fixing his tie. Russia glanced at Arthur’s neck for a moment and then vanished again around the corner, humming happily to himself as he walked away.
“He’s one apple short of a pie, ain’t he?” Alfred commented, wiping his lips with his arm. Arthur put his blazer back on, although he wanted nothing more than to take off every piece of immaculate clothing and screw Alfred into the wall. However, now was not the time.
“Ready?” Alfred asked, extending his hand to his beau. “C’mon, let’s go back to the meeting. It’s only gonna be for like, a few more hours, right?” Arthur rolled his eyes and took Alfred’s hand, rubbing his silken thumb over Alfred’s. “D’you want my scarf? For your neck, I mean.”
“I’m perfectly fine with my own, thank you,” Arthur responded. “Although I should take yours, since this is your fault.” Alfred frowned.
“Are you really mad? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”
“...Alfred, you do realize the moment we get back to my house, I’ll probably be jumping your bones in the doorway, right?” Alfred squeezed his hand, turned to him, and laid a kiss on his lips, right outside the door to the meeting room. Arthur pulled away and buttoned the top button of his shirt, buttoning up his blazer to hide the growing erection in his trousers that he now had to contain, at the very least, until the next break. They shared one last re-affirming, loving squeeze of their hands, and parted.
Alfred resolved to pay attention better in the meeting so the reward would be all the sweeter. But when he saw Arthur sit down with the scarf around his neck, Alfred found himself even more enamored with his gentlemanly appearance. Alfred gulped.
This meeting was going to last forever.
--
NOTES.
1. Gospodin Francis: If my research (read: Google) is correct, then that means "Mister" in Russian. It's probably wrong. Ech.
2. Allied Control Council: the Allied Control Council was a council set up by the USA and the USSR right after WWII ended. It's headquarters were in Berlin, and it was basically a council that was set up just to make decisions about the Axis and whatnot after WWII. They were the ones who decided to dissolve Prussia, split Germany and did the Nuremberg Trials. The council lasted until 1990, when the USSR fell and they really weren't needed anymore. GOOD TIMES.
I hope everyone enjoys this fic! Writing it was fun, I need more smuttish practice.
Pairing(s): America and England
Rating/Warnings: R for some non-explicit, non-penetrative almost-sex. Also body porn.
Summary: Arthur is prim, proper, and wears a lot of clothing. Alfred just spends a lot of time fantasizing about him.
Prompt: 31- England, when he's not drunk off his ass, is so prim, proper and modest. He always modestly and properly dressed and always cover from neck to toe, except his head and hands. Sometimes not even his hands, because more often than not he wears gloves. Keeping that in mind, I want America to be fixated with whatever bit of skin is exposed, be it nape or just a wrist and somehow feeling prideful that he is the only one who can see England bare for his eyes only. I strayed a bit from the prompt, it became more of America fantasizing about England's exposed parts from underneath a three-piece suit. I dunno. Good times.
Arthur arrived late. Not that this was a surprise to Alfred, of course; when he had finished preparing himself for the meeting that morning, Arthur had told him to go along without him. Arthur had woken “under the weather” and wanted to be sure he was in “top shape” for what promised to be a long, intense meeting.
The Allied Control Council was having a rare meeting outside of Berlin, instead opting to meet in London in the Parliament building. Alfred was sitting at the far end of the table, watching the snow drift past the windows and stealing glances at the clock until Arthur had arrived, thirty-four minutes late. He slid into the room like a ghost and shrugged out of his charcoal wool pea coat, a thin layer of snow dusting his shoulders white. He slipped the coat onto the back of his chair and re-positioned his suit jacket on his shoulders as he sat down, taking out a notepad to try to catch up on the meeting. Francis had been talking for a while now, although his attention was more directed at the former Axis powers than any of the Allies that were surrounding him.
Of course, Alfred just focused on Arthur. He wasn’t the keynote speaker at this meeting, nor did he have any idea what Francis was talking about. He was addressing his own personal plans that he had formed with his boss, and the others were listening. At least, most of them were.
Arthur had put on his handsome dark gray three-piece suit for this meeting, with a pinstriped Oxford and a deep, royal violet tie. The contrasting darks of his suit made his skin glow like moonlight with a hint of pink, all the way up to his cheeks, which were their usual rosy color from the cold. Alfred trained his eyes on the bit of exposed skin along Arthur’s neck, trailing up his jaw bone to his ear. Right below his chin his skin was cut off, hidden beneath his shirt and tie. He was covered from head to toe; even his hands were covered with thin white silk gloves that had rough patches at the fingertips from use.
Alfred caught Ivan giving him a wayward glance, and he was torn from his thoughts as he realized he hadn’t moved much in the last seven or so minutes. Ivan lifted a pale eyebrow at him.
“Something wrong?” The Russian asked simply, and Alfred shook his head, heat prickling along his skin from his blush. Ivan gave Alfred a skeptical look but then turned back to Francis, tapping his pen idly along his paper.
“...and that’s that,” Francis was finishing as he turned to Alfred and Ivan. “Alfred, Ivan, as the two headlining nations of the Allied Control Council, do you have any comments as of right now from your bosses as to the nature of my proposition?” Alfred looked at Ivan, whose face remained a cheery neutral.
“I have nothing as of right now, Gospodin Francis,” Ivan said. Alfred just shook his head, wanting the attention off of him so no one could see his flush.
“Alright then, I shall continue. Now, as you’re aware, Ludwig, Europe is willing to help economically...” Francis’s alto droned into a dull roar in Alfred’s brain as his attention turned back to Arthur’s smart suit. Although he had gotten in earlier than expected to London, he had yet to consummate his distance from his lover.
They had been separated for four months and twelve days as of that day; Alfred had arrived several hours earlier than expected the night before, early in the evening as opposed to midnight, and was excited to see Arthur as he passed through customs into the airport. He’d been starved of Arthur’s touch, of feeling the smooth white skin against his broad shoulders, small hips bucking against his own. But Arthur had insisted they go to sleep so Alfred could combat his jet lag, and had slept in his long johns and nightshirt, much to Alfred’s dismay.
He barely even got to see his beau that morning, as Arthur had hid in bed and forced Alfred to be early to the meeting to make up for his own absence. Alfred blamed part of his distraction on his sexual frustration, which he thought he’d get taken care of before the meeting. Now he was stuck, tantalizingly close to Arthur, and yet so, so far away.
I wonder why he covers up so much, Alfred thought as he leaned his head on his hands. Arthur flexed his right wrist and exposed the underside of his wrist, bone protruding through the taut skin, blue crisscrossing veins webbing across a plain of white. Alfred gave a small gulp, his mind reeling over the taste of those wrists as he ran his tongue along them in the recesses of the night, causing Arthur to shudder with delight. But alas, the gloves rode back down and covered the exposed ligament, and Alfred frowned and leaned forward, his head hovering mere inches from the table.
Arthur had a pen in his hand, and he wrote with such fluidity and grace, it was artwork to Alfred’s eyes. He took long strokes, using a cursive that was no longer in use with most people, and yet Arthur always took his notes this way. Alfred watched as Arthur set down his pen and undid a bit of the silk tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his pressed Oxford, just exposing a bit of his neck. Alfred’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. It was unseasonably warm in the room, and Arthur was looking warm and flustered as a result. Alfred trailed his eyes over bits of white and pink along Arthur’s neck, his eyes picking out the faint brown freckles that were hiding along Arthur’s collarbone.
Alfred’s middle finger twitched. He hadn’t taken any notes in the time Francis had been talking. Ivan was smiling off into the distance, Ludwig was paying rapt attention and Feliciano was elbowing Romano’s side. Yao looked bored. Arthur put his head in his left hand, his movements pulling the skin of his neck taught over his Adam’s Apple and continued writing, glancing up every once in a while and then looking back down at his notepad. Alfred found himself thinking about how perfectly his lips fit along the curve of Arthur’s neck, and how if he applied the right amount of pressure, the skin would go from white to pink to red in a matter of minutes, leaving a mark.
Arthur pulled his blazer from his shoulders and draped it carefully along the back of his chair. Alfred raised his eyebrows at how sophisticated the pinstripes made Arthur look. They elongated his arms and gave some color to his pallor.
S’hard to believe he’s really a depraved pirate, Alfred mused as Arthur shifted around. The gloves were still on, although they were so delicate and thin that Alfred could practically see the bone poking out from their second epidermis. Alfred turned to Francis, who had stood up and was still talking-it’d only really been about ten minutes since Francis started. He was giving some sort of proposal, to the Council. He was supposed to go over it with his boss afterwards-well, that probably wasn’t going to be very successful.
Alfred glanced back to Arthur and his eyes widened. Arthur was rolling up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. He rolled his sleeves to the elbows, and he still had those gloves on, but he saw the faint outline of the blonde hair growing up his arms, along with the faint expression of the freckles.
Alfred didn’t realize how hard he was gripping his pen until he heard a crack and Matthew was giving him a bewildered look from where he was sitting near Yao. The Canadian tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, and Alfred felt his face heat up. Alfred squirmed in his seat and it was then he felt the familiar tightness below his belt as his arousal grew. Damnit, he just wanted some time to see his (boyfriend?), was that too much to ask? Yes, Europe was a rather sad state right now, but couldn’t it wait?
He then shook his head at the thoughts and pushed them away as the guilt rose in his chest. This is important, he thought. He dropped his pen on the table. Matthew looked from Alfred to Arthur, raised his eyebrows a bare inch, looked back at Alfred, and then glanced up at Francis, raising his hand a bit.
“Francis-perhaps, perhaps we could break now?” he asked, as Francis had walked over to where Ludwig was sitting to give him something. Francis gave a small frown but nodded.
“Alright. I have to speak to Ludwig privately anyway-how about we take a ten-minute rest?” Francis suggested, and the general mood of the room was eh, sure. Alfred gave a half-grin to his brother, who gave a warm smile back. “We’re going to be here for a long time so frequent breaks are good for paying attention-right, Alfred?” Francis said, shooting a look towards the nation. Alfred just winked back at Francis, playing it up as a big joke. But Francis was Francis, and he knew that Francis had probably noticed his lack of attention.
Alfred pushed his chair back and stood, adjusted his own tie and walked over to his beau, who was staring down at his notes. He glanced up at Alfred who was standing above him, tanned hands on his thin shoulders. The slightest hint of a smile graced Arthur’s cheeks as he said “yes?”
“Can I speak with you?” Alfred said, adjusting his blazer. Arthur’s smile faded a bit at the seriousness in his voice, but he nodded and pointed to the vacated seat beside him. Alfred shook his head and pointed to the door. “I want to run something by you that I want to propose to Francis, but I can’t talk about it here.”
“Alright, alright,” Arthur said, standing up. He took his blazer in hand and motioned to Matthew, who was paging through Francis’s proposal. “Matthew? When Ludwig and Francis return, tell them we’ve stepped out for a moment, will you? We’ll be right back.”
“Of course,” Matthew said, and the two left the room, closing the large door behind them. Alfred took Arthur’s (deliciously smooth) wrist and tugged him down the hallway and around the corner. Alfred pushed Arthur against the wall, and Arthur was looking around the corner, making sure no one else was coming near them.
“Alright, Alfred, what-“ but Arthur didn’t finish as Alfred covered his lips with his own. Alfred pressed right against Arthur, pushing him into the wall, hands pressed against the wall on either side of his head. Arthur closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall, although his cheeks were heating up from embarrassment. Alfred pulled away momentarily, breathing heavily, his cheeks rosy and flushed. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, and crossed his arms over his chest as Alfred hovered over him.
“This is what you wanted to talk about?” he said sarcastically, but the sarcasm was lost in his obvious desire for Alfred. Alfred grinned his shit-eating grin at Arthur and leaned in again, placing his lips against the white, inviting neck. “You couldn’t wait for later, dear?” Although, to Alfred’s credit, once the boy was pulling him down the hallway and looking at him with that look, he could feel the heat pooling in his stomach.
“You didn’t let me have anything earlier,” Alfred murmured into his neck, and he laid a kiss against the side. Arthur took a deep, shaky breath in through his nose and wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck, all pressed cotton sleeves and silk gloves weaving through Alfred’s hair. “You cover up so much, what am I supposed to do but think about you?” Arthur chuckled as Alfred pressed against him harder, slightly grinding against his waist and providing delicious friction that made him tremble. He didn’t even notice that Alfred’s light kisses to his neck had become long, dragging trails of tongue and lips and teeth that would surely leave marks, but it felt so good that all Arthur could do was bite his lower lip to keep from crying out.
“You are-incorrigible,” Arthur muttered, but it came out more as a gasp as Alfred nipped his collarbone. Alfred brought his arms around Arthur’s waist and pushed his hips into his own, leaning Arthur’s upper back against the wall. “Y-you should be paying attention, isn’t this the council you s-started?”
“Once I get a little bit of you I can pay attention again,” Alfred said, and he trailed his lips up Arthur’s chin and onto his lips, and allowed Arthur to push his glasses up onto his head as they kissed. Alfred ran a hand down to Arthur’s thigh, trailing his fingers along the muscle and hitting his belt, just underneath where his vest hit his waist. Alfred shifted his own leg so it went in between Arthur’s, applying needed pressure to Arthur’s groin and producing a breathy moan.
Alfred moved from Arthur’s swollen lips to the other side of his neck and he kissed, sucked and nipped at it, reducing Arthur to needy whimpers and gasps. Alfred slid his hands up Arthur’s shirt, underneath his vest, sliding his fingers over taut skin and muscle along Arthur’s abdomen, pulling his shirt out from where it was tucked into his trousers. All while still attending to the exposed bits of Arthur’s neck, undoing a few more buttons on his shirt.
Arthur gasped his name and clutched at Alfred’s upper back, burying his face in Alfred’s hair, relishing his scent. He did really miss him and his touch; Alfred held him so gently and touched with such tenderness that Arthur was seduced by his mere fingertips.
“Alfred, love, w-we only have ten minutes,” Arthur said between heavy breaths. Arthur winced at the familiar sensation of bruising along his neck, and he knew he’d have to find his scarf before he sat back down. His neck would give them away-
“Arthur? Alfred? Are you out here?” a voice called from around the corner. Both Alfred and Arthur looked to the corner, and they heard footsteps getting louder and closer to them. Both men quickly let go of one another and, as fast as they could, arranged themselves, although they were both panting with kiss-swollen lips and rosy cheeks.
A light blonde head poked around the corner and Ivan was looking at them from around the corner, the same placid, slightly troubling smile that he always wore facing them.
“Francis would like to resume; I assume you are, ah, finished?” he said, his eyes never wavering from them. Arthur cleared his throat and nodded.
“Y-yes, Ivan, we’ll be there in a moment. We just need to clarify something,” Arthur said, fixing his tie. Russia glanced at Arthur’s neck for a moment and then vanished again around the corner, humming happily to himself as he walked away.
“He’s one apple short of a pie, ain’t he?” Alfred commented, wiping his lips with his arm. Arthur put his blazer back on, although he wanted nothing more than to take off every piece of immaculate clothing and screw Alfred into the wall. However, now was not the time.
“Ready?” Alfred asked, extending his hand to his beau. “C’mon, let’s go back to the meeting. It’s only gonna be for like, a few more hours, right?” Arthur rolled his eyes and took Alfred’s hand, rubbing his silken thumb over Alfred’s. “D’you want my scarf? For your neck, I mean.”
“I’m perfectly fine with my own, thank you,” Arthur responded. “Although I should take yours, since this is your fault.” Alfred frowned.
“Are you really mad? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”
“...Alfred, you do realize the moment we get back to my house, I’ll probably be jumping your bones in the doorway, right?” Alfred squeezed his hand, turned to him, and laid a kiss on his lips, right outside the door to the meeting room. Arthur pulled away and buttoned the top button of his shirt, buttoning up his blazer to hide the growing erection in his trousers that he now had to contain, at the very least, until the next break. They shared one last re-affirming, loving squeeze of their hands, and parted.
Alfred resolved to pay attention better in the meeting so the reward would be all the sweeter. But when he saw Arthur sit down with the scarf around his neck, Alfred found himself even more enamored with his gentlemanly appearance. Alfred gulped.
This meeting was going to last forever.
--
NOTES.
1. Gospodin Francis: If my research (read: Google) is correct, then that means "Mister" in Russian. It's probably wrong. Ech.
2. Allied Control Council: the Allied Control Council was a council set up by the USA and the USSR right after WWII ended. It's headquarters were in Berlin, and it was basically a council that was set up just to make decisions about the Axis and whatnot after WWII. They were the ones who decided to dissolve Prussia, split Germany and did the Nuremberg Trials. The council lasted until 1990, when the USSR fell and they really weren't needed anymore. GOOD TIMES.
I hope everyone enjoys this fic! Writing it was fun, I need more smuttish practice.