With friends like these...

Title: I'm Ready.
Genre: Romance.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17. dominant!England.
Characters/Pairings: America, England, France. UKUS.
Summary: Arthur gets tired of Alfred constantly refusing to let him 'top'. Alfred seeks out some quick advice and decides that love is worth trying something new. Birthday fic for chiisana00 , sorry it's a little late!


It had begun with a simple request. Alfred had never given it much thought, rather content with the dynamics of their relationship as they stood and he had been surprised at his own reaction when Arthur had asked if he minded switching places that night. At first, he hadn’t understood what the older man meant, and then he had laughed and tried to push the sudden awkward feeling aside, reasoning with himself that his lover wasn’t serious. Arthur had let it go, that time, but when he’d asked again a few weeks later it hadn’t been as easy for Alfred to ignore. He’d laughed it off again but he knew, his ability to read the English nation’s moods having improved over the course of the relationship, that it was on the man’s mind. He hadn’t talked about it, but he didn’t have to.

The excuses hadn’t been that obvious at first – he was tired, he had to work early, he had a headache. It was only when he flat-out refused, turned over and went to sleep that Alfred finally caught on to the fact that something might have been wrong. Troubled, he had shuffled across the bed and nuzzled into Arthur’s shoulder, blinking up at him in the dark until the older man had sighed and relented, allowing himself to be cuddled. Yet, it was a distraction, something that hung in the air between them as an almost tangible barrier. He didn’t like it, and from the way that Arthur was acting around him, he didn’t like it either, but neither of them seemed to want to bring it up.

By the time the next World Meeting rolled around, they might as well have been sleeping separately. Arthur’s customary waspishness went mostly unnoticed, but nobody missed the lack of snack food in front of Alfred for the duration of the meeting, not even a faint rustling to betray the presence of a bag of sweets in his pocket. Arthur excused himself half way through the proceedings, but Alfred, who still had his own part to play, could do little but give a rather sore look to the man’s back as he left. He was so deep into his thoughts by the end that he didn’t notice Francis standing behind him until the man’s hand fell on his shoulder, the French nation looking at him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“You appear to have been abandoned, hm?” he said. Alfred groaned and let his forehead hit the table, feeling the fingers on his shoulder tighten in a sympathetic grip. “Tch. Come along, big brother France will take you for a drink and we will talk.”

Alfred had always thought that Francis looked somewhat out of place when he was anywhere but his own country. None more so than when he was in England. Yet, he seemed to know just where to go to avoid all the louder, seedier pubs of London and found his way to a quiet wine bar down a side-street. The younger blond sank into a chair and Francis snapped his fingers to call someone over, ordering a bottle of something that Alfred had never heard of and would probably never hear of again. His eyes were on the American nation as he poured two glasses and slid one across the table, picking up his own and inhaling the scent briefly before taking a sip.

“Now, then,” he said, and Alfred paused half-way through lifting his glass to his lips, anticipation slipping into stomach like a block of ice. “What is it that has you so mélancolique, little one?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early in the day for drinking?” Alfred asked, though he sipped the wine anyway and watched as Francis simply smiled. He sighed and set the glass down, running one fingertip around the rim. “It’s Arthur. He’s been so weird with me lately, ever since… Erm.”

“Ever since..?” Francis’ tone was quiet, mildly curious, and Alfred sighed again, propping his chin up on one hand.

“Ever since he asked if he could… you know… be in charge… and I said no.”

He didn’t have to say anything else, it seemed, as Francis chuckled and took another sip of his wine, tucking his hair back behind his ear and making a quiet, thoughtful sound. “He is a prickly one, non? Is it surprising to you that the once great British Empire would not be content to always be rolling over for you?”

“Well, I guess when you put it like that…” Alfred frowned slightly, and scooted his chair back. “I’m going home. If he’s there, I’m gonna… you know. Take one for the team.” Slowly, Francis shook his head, and the American nation made an uncertain noise. “I mean… I’m going to… let him have what he wants? Because I love him?”

“Better. Be careful, Amérique. Such verbal blunders will leave you with more than a sore behind if you speak them in front of Angleterre.”

Grimacing at the phrasing, Alfred got up and made his way out, not looking back as he stepped onto the street and paused to get his bearings before heading to the nearest underground station. By the time he got back to Arthur’s house, after getting himself lost and turned around several times on the somewhat confusing London subway system, it had been three hours since the man had left him in that meeting room. That amount of time, he knew, was not enough for Arthur to have calmed down and he was quiet as he opened the front door and slipped inside. The house was quiet, the only indication of the English nation’s presence being his coat hung up beside the door. A quiet clinking sound came from the kitchen and Alfred moved towards it, biting his lower lip slightly as the man came into view, his back to the kitchen door as he prepared something on the kitchen counter. In four strides Alfred had cleared the distance and was wrapping his arms around Arthur, drawing him back against him and nuzzling behind his ear. Arthur stiffened instantly, his spine rod-straight and his body resisting as Alfred refused to give up, nosing and kissing his ear and neck and slowly, the man relaxed, tipping his head back against the other’s shoulder. He placed the knife he was using down in favour of clasping his hands over Alfred’s arms and glanced at him, brushing a light kiss over his jaw.

“What are you after?” he asked, his tone not holding half as much venom as he likely would have wished. Thinking it prudent to keep to himself the fact that he had spoken to France about their love life, however briefly, the younger blonde made a low ‘hm’ sound to give himself a moment more to think about what he was going to say.

“I’ve just been thinking,” he said, loosening his grip to allow the man to turn in his arms and look up at him. “About why you’ve been, you know, avoiding me and stuff… and it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine that you’re avoiding me but what you want is fine. I’m ready.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, then softened, and he reached one hand up to curl it behind Alfred’s neck and circled his thumb in the wispy hairs at the nape of his neck. He moved up onto his toes, even though the height difference between them wasn’t enough for him to need to, and pressed his lips to the younger man’s. Alfred enjoyed kissing Arthur and did it often, and now was no different. The Englishman tasted of tea and something else entirely Arthur as their lips moved together, Arthur’s fingers cording through the younger man’s blonde hair and fiddling with his cowlick in a way that made Alfred squeak and press close to him appreciatively. He had been holding up to the attention admirably, resisting the urge to push his tongue into Arthur’s mouth as he would sometimes do, allowing the Englishman to dictate. The quiet sounds that rose now and then in Arthur’s throat were soft and content, and he tilted his head to deepen their kiss as the thumb of his free hand stroked lightly along the cool metal of the arm of Alfred’s glasses. Alfred leaned into him and ran his hands over his lover’s sides, tracing the curve of his hips to the dip at the base of his spine and pulling him close, eyes shut.

When they parted, Arthur kept his eyes closed and Alfred licked his lips, watching the man’s face as a soft smile danced over his features and his eyes opened to lock the American’s.

“Alfred?”

“Mm, yeah?”

“I’d like to make love to you now, if you’ll let me…”

“I…” Alfred turned pink, the colour painting a light rosy blush over his cheeks as his mouth twitched into a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds… good. I like the sound of that.”

The Englishman smiled, and murmured a quiet ‘come on’ as he took the younger nation’s hands and drew him out of the kitchen. Alfred swung their clasped hands between them as he followed his lover to the stairs and up, and Arthur sat him down on the edge of the bed, gently removing his glasses and setting them to one side before he kissed him, deeply and warmly, the kind of kiss that often made Alfred wonder how he could sometimes be so cold. He hooked a few fingers into the front of Arthur’s trousers and pulled him closer, breaking the kiss so the other man could pull his t-shirt over his head.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Alfred chuckled softly, drawing Arthur’s head down for another kiss. Shucking his shirt off and shifting close to feel the warmth of his lover’s skin Arthur lowered the younger man back onto the bed, catching hold of his wrists when his hands moved eagerly towards the button of his trousers. The American wiggled, and Arthur smiled, touching their noses together.

“Not so fast,” he murmured fondly.

“Oh, I’m trying to skip ahead while there’s foreplay fun to be had, huh?”

“Ssh.” Arthur silenced him with a kiss, something like ‘alright, I’m quieting’ mumbled against his lips before the other man stopped speaking. More than used to Alfred ruining the mood with his chattering, Arthur had often found this to be a very effective way to ensure his silence and kissed him until he was certain that he wouldn’t speak again, then drew back, kissing the tip of his nose and setting to work removing the rest of his clothes.

When Alfred was pushed gently back by one of Arthur’s hands on his shoulder he initially flailed a little, but one look at the patient expression on the other’s face made him relax. He knew, really, that even if this was something that Arthur wanted it wasn’t something that he’d force. They had too much respect for one another for that kind of thing. So, he relaxed, the back of his head hitting the pillow as Arthur’s hands moved down the now bared skin of his thighs. Lean muscles fluttered under the Englishman’s gentle touch, and Alfred let out a soft, huffing breath, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Always easily worked up by the more experienced hands of his lover he was already half hard and feeling a flush of warmth starting over his skin, his fingers gripping into the bed sheets as Arthur’s lips moved over him, from his collar, down the centre of his chest, to the faintly twitching muscles of his stomach. He lifted his knees up and Arthur settled between his thighs, kneading his fingers slowly up and down and working Alfred up even more. It was almost embarrassing how quickly Arthur could get him to a point of wanting the man to do something, anything to ease the growing pressure gathering low in his stomach.

Though the kisses were moving everywhere Arthur seemed to be keeping his hands mostly to himself, just moving them up and down the American nation’s thighs. Alfred was resisting the urge to look down, not really wanting to make himself aware of the size of Arthur’s arousal, his kisses only half complete as he chewed his lip and darted his gaze anxiously around the ceiling. Only when the other man’s hand touched his cheek did he look at him, allowing Arthur to work his lip out from under his teeth.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he said quietly, and Alfred felt his heart thump at the tone and the fact that Arthur would even stop to ask. He nodded.

“Yeah… uh… I guess… I’m just… nervous, or something.”

Arthur didn’t laugh as he’d feared, not even a chuckle to betray his amusement. He smiled and leaned down to kiss Alfred’s nose as he reached over to pluck a small bottle of lube from the top drawer of the cabinet beside the bed. Holding it in his hand he kissed Alfred a little more and the American nation felt his insides squirming at the thought until Arthur said three words that promptly derailed his mind.

“I am too.”

He wanted to express his surprise, or ask why, or something, but at the same time he didn’t. If Arthur was nervous too then this was okay, they’d both be nervous together and everything would be fine. Alfred let out a slow breath and nodded, though he still didn’t look as Arthur uncapped the bottle and spread a liberal amount over his fingers. He squirmed, letting out a soft sound of discomfort before the man had even touched him.

“You’ll stop if I hate it, right?”

“Of course I will. I promise.” The response was reassuring but the single slicked digit that slid over his entrance still shocked him, his legs trying to close over Arthur’s hand and only stopped by the light grip of the other on his knee. He made that sound again, soft and uncertain as that one finger pressed gently then pushed inside, breaching the tight ring of muscle in a way that wasn’t painful but certainly wasn’t comfortable. Alfred was struck with the feeling that this shouldn’t have been happening, that somehow it was making him less of a man to submit like this but he dismissed that thought as soon as it occurred to him, knowing very well that it wasn’t true.

He could feel every movement of that finger inside him, every faint callous on Arthur’s skin as his fingertip pressed further inwards, pushing and almost seeming to be searching for something. Then, the man touched something inside him that made him gasp, then draw in a harsh breath. It wasn’t a strong sensation, but strange and it tingled at the base of his erection in a way he hadn’t felt before. Arthur evidently seemed satisfied by his reaction, and he kept his attention on that spot, circling his fingertip around it and occasionally passing over it in a way that made Alfred’s eyes roll back and soon enough he was letting out quiet little moans on each pass, his hips twitching. His English lover was quiet, watching every move and listening to every sound and responding to everything he did, and when he softly murmured that he was going to put another finger in, Alfred couldn’t do anything but nod.

He felt it, that second digit, a stretching sensation accompanied by a faint burning sting that he didn’t really like, but Arthur found that spot again and he found he didn’t care that much, everything focused on that sensation. Alfred gripped the pillow beside his head, feeling close already, precum beading at the tip of his arousal and rolling down the shaft. Each exhaled breath was a soft moan or low whine and he barely felt Arthur kiss his knee, not stopping for a moment, and Alfred was beginning to think that this wasn’t so bad after all. Time seemed to crawl by, minutes of nothing but pleasure exploding in small bursts in his brain as Arthur worked him open.

Then Arthur eased a third finger in and he could feel it again, that burning pain again and it was worse this time. Alfred tensed, hissed, his body retreating up the bed as he clenched hard around the intruding digits, unable to help himself despite how it made the discomfort worse. Instantly, Arthur stopped, though he didn’t pull away, only stroked his free hand up and down the man’s thigh and looked up at him.

“You’re too tense,” he murmured. Alfred’s heart was pounding, his face flushed red not only from arousal but also from the embarrassment at having worked himself up so quickly.

“You’re too tense! I’m fine!” he protested, and Arthur smiled, shifting to press a kiss to his lips. Slowly, Alfred relaxed back onto the bed, taking in deep breaths and trying to regain control of himself even if he didn’t have control of the situation. Arthur waited until he seemed calm again then moved his fingers once more, working him gently and still so attentive to every tiny shift of his body and every sound he made. The sting faded, though he couldn’t say that the sensation of having half of Arthur’s hand in him was ever going to be something he’d get used to. If he kept making him feel like that, though, he couldn’t say it would be something that he minded.

“Are you ready?” Arthur asked him eventually. He didn’t know how long it had been but he knew that he must have been pushing Arthur’s restraint by now, and he wasn’t sure, he really wasn’t, but if he left it to his own decision he’d never go through with this and he wanted to. He nodded, though Arthur seemed to sense his hesitation and he kissed him again, biting lightly on his lower lip. “You’re doing fine,” he said, and he drew his fingers back, shifting his weight. “I’m going to push in now, okay?”

Alfred hated how nervous he felt. He hated that he felt like such a child in this situation, but he loved Arthur, and right now that was all that mattered to him. He was ready, and he’d be fine. The younger man nodded again, and moments later felt the English nation’s erection pressing up against him. It was much larger than his fingers, or it felt as if it was, and as he pushed inside Alfred couldn’t help but tense. His breathing hitched, a close-lipped whine held in his mouth as he felt himself trying to push the other’s length back out, eyes clenching shut but Arthur held his place and he didn’t stop, and once he was fully sheathed Alfred’s pelvis felt as if it was on fire.

“Bloody hell…” He heard Arthur say. Alfred made a weak attempt at a laugh that came out as more of a gasp, wanting to wrap his arms around the man but suddenly finding himself unable to move. He clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip, turning his head away as Arthur waited, supporting himself above the other blonde on slightly shaky arms. Even in the middle of all this Alfred could admire and be grateful for that kind of patience, and he did his best to relax to make it easier on the both of them. Arthur leaned forwards to kiss his jaw and even the small change in angle made the American nation whimper.

The older blonde just held him, murmuring soft encouragements into his ear and kissing his shoulder, stroking his fingers through his hair and up and down his sides until the pain eased to a low throbbing and Alfred finally gave his okay for the man to move. He did so, keeping his movements steady and slow and though the slight burn remained Alfred began to feel something else under it, something like that pleasure he’d felt when Arthur had his fingers in him. In one moment Arthur hit that sweet spot of pleasure and he felt it flood over him like a wave, an exclamation of ‘holy star spangled fuck!’ escaping him as he dug his nails into Arthur’s shoulders and curled his body up towards him. He unconsciously spread his thighs wider, bringing one arm up to wrap around his lover’s neck and pull him as close as he could. Arthur kissed his lips then his neck, slipping one hand between them to grasp his length and slide his thumb over the tip.

A shudder wracked Alfred’s entire body at that, his hips jerking up towards that hand just in time to meet one of Arthur’s thrusts, that tingling pleasure-pain rushing through him again as he cursed under his breath. Arthur was failing to hold back his own sounds now, moans, gasps, low groans of Alfred’s name and Alfred was finding this new side of Arthur to be very attractive indeed. He could feel that familiar tense coiling in his gut already, moaning loudly enough for anyone within the neighbourhood vicinity to hear as he finally lost himself to the new sensations battering his mind.

Arthur came first, his body stiffening and hips driving in hard, a half-strangled yell as he spilled inside the man, a not altogether unpleasant experience for the American and followed quickly by distraction as the hand around his length began to work quickly, rushing him into a breathless orgasm that left him shaking as the afterglow swam up to his cheeks and tinted them a rosy red.

It was still, then. Quiet but for their panting breaths as Arthur pulled out and flopped down onto his back beside him. Alfred shifted, the empty feeling a little foreign to him now and he was sure his insides had been moved around a bit by all that. He was also sure that he needed a shower, but that was one of the last things on his mind as he looked over at the other man and found contented, warm green eyes looking back at him.

“Was it like you thought?” he murmured, and Alfred turned his hand over to take the one stroking over the backs of his knuckles.

“At first,” Alfred replied, shifting over to touch his shoulder to Arthur’s. “I thought it was gonna be hell until you finished, but it wasn’t so bad… and it’d hurt less if… if I let you do it more, right?” He kept his eyes on the ceiling and heard Arthur’s sound of agreement. “I figured you must just get off on pain or something.”

“Who says I don’t?” Arthur said quietly, stifling a soft yawn with his free hand. Alfred snorted.

“You dirty little masochist.” The American nation laughed, squeezing Arthur’s fingers and tipping his head to touch it to the other’s. “You wait, I’ll think of so many things to do to you, and you won’t know when it’s coming!”

“I like being tied up,” was the reply to that, a grin on the Englishman’s face now as he looked over to Alfred, and the younger man stared at him, lips slightly parted.

“Damn, you are a kinky bastard. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“You have all the time in the world to learn… and if you think that’s kinky, I’ve barely even started.”