Don't say I didn't warn you.

Warning: Lemon, oral, rape, violence, gore, necrophilia.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Arthur was a man of diverse tastes. He especially admired the human body. It was such a fascinating thing to regard and manipulate. So when he saw a young man jogging down his street one morning, he couldn't resist the urge to stop and add to his collection.

He was clad only in loose blue gym shorts, sweat and movement making them cling around his form. From behind, the man appeared nicely built—shoulder blades moving the dips and curves of toned deltoid and trapezius muscles, surely the work of many years of athletic devotion. Yet the elastic waistline of the shorts was partially hidden by the soft mounds of the man's love handles. His ass was two round globes, too big to be completely muscle, jiggling slightly with each step.

Arthur pulled up in his car, foot subconsciously letting up on the gas to fall into pace with the oblivious jogger. Prominent pectorals followed by sweat-slicked obliques, still somewhat trapped by a thin layer of fat, stood out on his young frame. His thighs, though covered by his shifting shorts, were clearly shapely, and his calves told of many years of running. His biceps were not the largest Arthur had ever seen, but they were certainly commendable, and the rise and fall of muscle continued down the arms to complete a near perfect balance of structure and form. Overall, he was a fresh sight compared to the numerous overweight or elderly local exercisers. Arthur could already feel himself getting excited.

The jogger finally noticed his close following and turned his head to regard him. Such a young, innocent face. Blue eyes glinting behind glasses, devoid of any suspicion whatsoever. Soft, caramel hair whipping back in ripples as he continued to jog. Lips, relatively full by male standards, a light shade of rose, parting in breath and curiosity. Yes, Arthur urged him. Be curious.

And how curious the young man was. The jogger gave an amiable shout of "Hey!" and Arthur could barely keep from passing a tongue over his lips as he brought the car to a stop, the man walking casually over to meet him. Arthur rolled down his window.

"Yo," the man greeted with a pretty smile. He put one hand on the roof of the little light blue 1990 Buick LeSabre and leaned down to address him through the window. Nice and tall, Arthur observed. "Hey, man, how ya doin'?"

Arthur nodded to him, offering him a charming smile. "Good morning." He examined him a bit more, eyes following the wet trail of sweat that trickled down the man's chest. Lovely. "Are you new to this area? I don't recall ever seeing you around before."

"Oh, yeah." Blue eyes shone with the enthusiasm of youth. He motioned vaguely over to some part of the neighborhood a few blocks away. Arthur glanced in the direction for only a moment before returning his hungry gaze to the eager face and young body of the boy speaking to him. "I live down in Ashwood Circle. I thought I saw you watching me. You looked kinda confused, haha."

Arthur laughed with him. So imperceptive, he thought. This one is perfect.

"Well, yes," Arthur replied. "You look quite young. Did you move here with your family?"

The man shook his head and Arthur fought down a satisfied smile. "Nope. My folks are kinda strict about the whole independence thing. As soon as I was eighteen, my dad sorta kicked me out."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay." The boy gave a dismissive wave. "I got ample warning before the time came, so I managed to snag a house here. It's a nice place. I like it. And the people are friendly, too."

"Oh, are they?" I'll be glad to break that streak. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Yeah, it's kinda hard, though, y'know? Moving some place new and going through the whole isolation phase…"

Arthur saw his chance and immediately jumped at it. He gave his warmest smile. "Well, you've talked to me, haven't you? I'd say if we got to know each other more, you'd have your first friend here."

The boy perked up, his eyes going alight in an endearing way. "Oh? D'ya wanna meet somewhere later and, um, talk a little more?"

Arthur patted the passenger's seat. "I honestly see no need why we can't just talk now. You look tired. I'll drive you to my place, and we can have lunch."

The young man appeared apprehensive at first, which was some cause for alarm in Arthur, but he remained calm, still smiling, still motioning, until the man shrugged and said, "What the hell," and opened the door, slipping in.

"Whoa," he said immediately after he closed the door which still sported a window crank. "You like old cars, huh?"

Arthur shifted gears and set off down the road. It was hard for him to focus with the musky, teasing smell wafting off of the boy. "I wouldn't say that. I just haven't gotten around to buying a new one yet, and this one contains a lot of… memories." Memories, indeed, Arthur thought slyly.

The boy nodded as if he knew of all the things that had happened in the vehicle—which wasn't very much, seeing as he was still smiling. "Yeah, so, um… you're English?"

"Through and through."

"If you don't mind me asking, why'd ya move here?"

"Maine has similar weather," Arthur explained, coming to a stop sign and looking before sending the car into a casual roll again. "And there were some people I had to get away from back at home for a while." It was more like he had been trying to escape the limelight for a bit. Those detectives had been getting way too perceptive…

"Oh!" the young man slapped a hand to his head. "I'm sorry, man. I haven't even told you my name yet. Some start to a friendship, huh? I'm Alfred Jones."

Arthur glanced at him and nodded. "And I'm Arthur Kirkland." He said this with express ease, for he knew very well that his name would not be revealed to any type of authority once the day was through.

Alfred, unknowing of this and still as imperceptive as ever, bobbed his head, as if savoring the taste of Arthur's name. "Hmm… can I call you Artie?"

"You can call me whatever you want." You won't be calling me anything before long, after all.

"Cool."

By then they were at Arthur's house—a quaint little bungalow at the very end of a row of houses on Faytell Street. Arthur was not a big fan of bungalows, especially since they allowed little room to work, but he had chosen this one solely for the street name. Just that very feature made it perfect. He pulled into the driveway and cut the ignition, his hands trembling with anticipation. He hid them in the pockets of his slacks and stepped out of the vehicle. "We're here."

"Cool," Alfred said, following, admiring the colorful pop of flowers that lined the pathway to the front door. "Wow, I didn't know you could even grow flowers here."

Arthur's mouth twitched in semblance of a smile. "It's possible." He stepped onto the porch and between a few more flower pots, taking his keys out to unlock the door. "I do my share of gardening when I have the time." And it certainly helps that I know the perfect fertilizer to make them grow so big… Arthur shivered again, swallowing his excitement.

Alfred followed him into the house. "Well, it seems you have a lot of time."

"Certainly," Arthur replied, slipping off his coat and hanging it up just inside the door. Alfred followed suit. "I am quite the efficient worker."

Alfred grabbed looks around the home as he was led through to the kitchen. The place was immaculate. The floors shined as if they had just been cleaned, the walls appeared to be freshly painted, the carpets had that steam-cleaned smell, and there was a stark lack of dust. Every room they went by had a strong scent of sweetness, just how Arthur liked it for various reasons. Behind him Alfred coughed a bit at the rich smells, but was otherwise silent.

The kitchen itself appeared straight out of an interior design magazine. Crisp, sky-blue walls were lined with white cabinets that were all but spotless despite their color. The island that Alfred was directed to sit at was covered in light gray faux marble, the surface gleaming. Alfred took a seat in one of the cushioned cream chairs and continued to survey as Arthur turned his back to him, moving around the room as he prepared a light lunch for them.

"So…" Alfred began. "Whadaya do? You know, other than tend to your flowers."

Arthur gave a light chuckle and rummaged through his fridge for ingredients. "Ah, I'm a… an artist." His arms full, he lightly kicked the fridge shut and dumped the food onto the counter by the stove.

Alfred perked up. "Really? Cool, y'know, my brother's an artist. He likes to paint landscapes. The whole family would go out on a picnic, and he'd go off to paint something. One time we didn't know where he went. We were calling for him for a good half hour until he suddenly popped up. He said he was busy painting and wanted to finish. Oh, was Mom mad."

Arthur stiffened a bit and he abruptly stopped chopping. "You have a brother?" This could be a problem…

"Oh, yeah. We're twins, though not in every way. He's kinda quiet, and, well, artistic."

"Going off during family outings… such dedication." Sounds similar to me… He and his brothers would always go out to the park with their mother. He had been so young then, when he'd wandered off and his mother had had a panic attack trying to find him. And, oh, she did find him, just not in the way she had expected. After that, he never went out again and was forced to visit every therapist that could be found. He cleared his throat. "Ahem, so I expect your brother is persuing his talent?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered. "He got accepted to a university down in Jersey. That's where my family lives. But I was never really the scholarly type. Tried for an athletic scholarship, but, you know, competition and all."

Arthur gave an empathetic sigh. "Well, if it's any consolation, I was never accepted either." He commenced buttering the bread. So, his brother's in New Jersey, eh? How convenient. "Do your parents worry over you being so far away?"

Alfred shrugged. "Nah, they know I can take care of myself. Mattie, though… they worry over him a lot more."

Mattie, eh? "And what are you doing now? Have you managed to secure a job?"

Alfred gave a disappointed huff. "Well, no, not yet, exactly. I'm still moving in and everything, and I figure I need time to settle down…"

No contacts… good, good. "If you have any trouble with money, I'll be more than happy to help." Arthur finished spearing the cold sausages with toothpicks and gathered everything onto a plate, swiveling around to the island.

Alfred shook his head as the plate was set down before him. "Oh, no, man, really. I—"

"I insist," Arthur told him with a smile as he fetched them two glasses of water. He carried them around the island and added them to the meal, sitting down in the chair closest to Alfred. "You must forgive me. I don't have much in the way of beverage except for tea and milk. I supposed you would want some water after that run."

Alfred accepted the glass and lifted it to his lips. "Yeah, um, thanks, man." He drank greedily, and Arthur watched with deep intent as those pink lips closed around the rim, as his Adam's apple bobbed with every gulp, as a trickle of water escaped to wind its way down his chin. His attention was broken by the air kicking on, though he received an eyeful of a nice shiver from Alfred as he set down his glass. Alfred stiffened, seeming to remember something. "Oh, uh, sorry," he said, getting up. "I really shouldn't be sitting on your stuff when I'm all sweaty and everything…"

"No, no," Arthur assured. "I don't mind. You need to rest, yes?"

Alfred hesitantly sat back down. "Uh, yeah, I guess. Thanks."

The rest of their meal was spent in silence, Arthur admiring how Alfred's face scrunched up when confronted with the cucumber sandwiches. He took a tentative bite, and Arthur glanced away, knowing that Alfred would be looking at him in order to be sure Arthur didn't see him set the sandwich down. When Arthur turned back to face him, Alfred was enjoying the cocktail sausages, just as Arthur had predicted. Alfred peered up at him. "Um… you don't want any?"

Arthur gave a dismissive wave. "Oh no, I had a large breakfast. You need the energy more than me. Eat as much as you like." Arthur's eyes were watching Alfred the whole time as he finished off the tray of links, swallowing a sneaky smile. What appetite, he mused. Pity he'll have the exact opposite of energy afterward.

When Alfred was finished, Arthur saw an opportunity to implement his plan. "You certainly keep yourself fit, Alfred. Is it for anyone in particular?"

Surprisingly, Alfred was not caught off guard by the question. He shrugged, as if the subject bored him. "No. I mean, I've had my share of dead-end relationships, and I really don't plan on starting another one for a while."

"Oh?" Arthur fought down the eagerness in his voice. "You haven't been too lonely, I trust?"

Alfred studied a fern in the corner perched beneath a window, its tendrils unfurled under the slate-gray morning light. "Um… to be honest I have had that lonely feeling occasionally. But it passes soon enough and then everything is pretty much fine for the rest of the day if I don't think about it too much."

"Well," Arthur gave a breathy sigh and put his chin in his hand, propped up by a skinny elbow. "I suppose I can relate. Ever since I moved here, I haven't had much in the way of bedfellows." His eyes wandered over to Alfred who was watching him with those bright blue eyes Arthur had begun to fancy so much. "Maybe we can…?" He sighed and looked away. "No… no, that wouldn't be proper of me."

"Huh?" Arthur hid his grin in his hand as Alfred asked after him. "What? You got an idea or something? You don't have to be quiet about it. I won't judge."

"I was just thinking." Arthur brought his gaze back to him and offered what he knew to be an irresistible smile. "Perhaps we could… relieve each other of our loneliness? No strings attached. Just for today or until we can find partners, hm?"

Alfred stared for a moment, just blinking his blue eyes at him, and Arthur could barely contain himself from pouncing on the boy. Already he was having to force his eyes from creeping downward to map Alfred's naked chest. Alfred cleared his throat, and Arthur's attention was immediately occupied. "Um… o-okay, I guess. I mean, I've never done it with, um, a guy…" He trailed off as he began to look anywhere else but at Arthur. He lifted a hand to scratch the back of his head, and Arthur was greeted with the lovely sight of a flexing bicep. "M-maybe just, y'know, uh, oral?"

Alfred's eyes returned to Arthur's, and the Briton gave a grin that was just a bit too broad. "Whatever you're comfortable with, love. And you're not obligated to do anything to me, since it's your first time with a man. I'll be content to administer to you." He stood and offered Alfred his hand. The light blush creeping across Alfred's cheeks was almost too good to resist. "We'll start traditional. The bedroom?"

Alfred coughed and took his hand. "Uh, yeah, right."

"Excellent." And Arthur was calmly walking down the hallway, resisting the urge to pull Alfred along how he wanted. But he remained casual, entering his bedroom, which was also sweet-smelling and spotless, and motioned for Alfred to sit on the edge of the bed. Arthur knelt down between his thighs, giving a seductive smirk. "Now, we can't have these." He tapped Alfred's hip so that the man lifted himself off the bed, Arthur swiping shorts and underwear off as one and tossing them aside. Alfred's cock was shapely and above average, Arthur was pleased to see, and it was slowly growing firm with his close proximity. The musky, purely masculine smell that hit Arthur as he leaned in to examine it was dizzying and arousing. Alfred must have smelled it too, as he shifted uncomfortably and said, "Y-you don't have to. I'm all sweaty and—"

"No," Arthur told him, taking the shaft in his hand and giving it a slow pump. A moan escaped the man above him. "You smell fantastic, love." He pillowed his lips against the slick head in a kiss and extended a tongue to taste him. "Mmm~"

"Oh." Alfred covered his mouth with a hand. Arthur peered up at him through his lashes, taking in more of his now rock hard shaft. "Artie, fuck."

Arthur relished the sounds he was drawing from Alfred—such lovely, sexy sounds. His hands traveled downward, fingers rubbing over Alfred's balls, studying the shape of them, perfect little eggs wrapped in velvet, pulsing with want. Arthur could feel himself getting hard, but he knew he would not become completely erect until later. When the real fun had started.

Arthur didn't even have to swallow Alfred to bring him to orgasm. All he need do was fuck his slit with his tongue, and Alfred was spraying his seed onto his lips and tongue. So copious was the amount that it was soon dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. Alfred peered down at him, his gaze a mix of satiation and disbelief. "O-oh, man. I'm sorry."

Arthur shook his head and licked his lips, Alfred's taste dancing on his tongue. Sweet with youth, salty with sexual denial. "Mm, no, it's fine. I'm used to it, there's no need to apologize."

"Oh, well," Alfred began, but Arthur was on his feet, pushing Alfred back onto the bed. "What's…?" Alfred tried to speak, but he was too breathless to do so. It was as if he had yet to recover from his orgasm. He tried to lift his arms, but all they would do was flex. "I… I can't move… wait…"

Arthur let out a laugh then. His real laugh. His mad laugh. "Oh, my dear Alfred, you're so beautiful. I just want to tear you to pieces." He reached over, barely having to hold Alfred down as he straddled his groin, producing a pair of worn handcuffs. Alfred blinked dumbly up at him as he struggled to perceive what was happening. "Now, don't strain yourself, love," Arthur instructed, capturing one wrist then the other. "Right now the drugs I gave you in those sausages you loved are making your mind move slowly. Everything is happening in slow-motion in your eyes. Now," Arthur had hooked the handcuffs around one of the rungs at the head of his bed. Not that he would encounter any trouble from Alfred moving, but it was just a precaution. He ran a slender finger down Alfred's bare chest, between his sculpted pectorals. An artist's finger. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Alfred's ear. "You won't be lonely anymore, Alfred. You'll be mine. Forever."

Alfred's eyes were wide, but it took only a moment for them to close and for his whole body to go slack. Giggling, Arthur leaned back to marvel at the naked form beneath him, running his hands up and down Alfred's torso. "Oh, yes, I'll have a lot of fun with you, Alfred, my dear."

Arthur began by undressing himself, moving quicker than he would have usually moved. Taking in the full view of Alfred's bare body hastened him, and Arthur was soon perched atop the man again, planting soft kisses down Alfred's jaw, his neck, his chest. He arrived at one dark nipple, erect from the cold, and he couldn't resist taking the bud into his mouth and sucking, running his tongue around it, savoring how it felt in his mouth. He pulled back and admired the nipple under the glistening of his saliva, then moved onto the next, giving it similar treatment.

This was what Arthur liked best: a lover that was completely compliant to him. And complete compliancy meant total lack of consciousness. It excited Arthur, that he could do whatever he wanted to Alfred's sinfully-perfect body and not be met with a single protest. As long as the drugs were working, he could ravish Alfred however he saw fit.

He trailed a tongue down Alfred's front, going between dips and over ridges of muscle and fat, leaving a slick trail behind him. The salty taste of Alfred's sweat turned him on. He moaned and ground down against the boneless body beneath him. "Such a lovely specimen. I don't think I'll be able to give you up… yet." He giggled again and felt himself reach the peak of hardness. "Mm, you feel that?" He thrust his hips against Alfred's flaccid cock and leered. "Of course you can't. But it's time to inspect inside nonetheless."

Arthur dismounted Alfred and spread the boy's legs. The musky smell once again met him, and Arthur couldn't resist dipping down to lick up the insides of his sweaty thighs and spent cock and balls. He buried his nose in Alfred's dark blond pubes and inhaled his scent. "Mm, yes, intoxicating." Arthur stroked his cock to the sight of his limp, toned form. "Well, if you smell like that, I'll have no choice but to take you." Arthur moved between Alfred's open legs, pressing the slick head of his needy cock against Alfred's obviously virginal hole. "It's completely your fault," Arthur told him as he wormed himself in, biting his lip at the pressure he was met with. "Oh God, you little tease. You were asking for it the whole time with a body like this." He hissed as he managed to shove himself halfway inside, the muscles having relaxed from the sedative Arthur had given him. "Mmm, you're so tight and soft. I'm going to wreck you, Alfred. You won't be so perfect by the time I'm through with your arse. Just wait."

He pulled out and thrust in hard, shoving himself completely inside. He moaned as he was encased in tight, velvet warmth. There was no resistance, no pain from the pressure of protesting muscles against his shaft. Just… a lovely squeeze that had Arthur pulling out and thrusting again and again and again. He went faster, Alfred's ass too much for him to handle. His hands ran over Alfred's saliva-slicked skin, fingers tracing muscles, pinching the doughy lovehandles that only added to the boy's allure. It proved to remind Arthur that Alfred was both an adult and still very much a child. The notion that Arthur was robbing the cradle only spurred him on.

"Ah, yesss, fuck," Arthur moaned as he stilled and pulled Alfred's slim hips onto his cock, submerging himself in warmth and constricting pleasure. His cock throbbed and he spilled himself inside, pulling out and pumping himself to a full finish over the boy's body, groaning as his cum covered Alfred's front in gooey white ropes. "Mmf." Arthur thumbed one of his own nipples as he straddled Alfred and moved his way up until he was balanced over his chest. He ran a thumb over Alfred's lush pink lips before passing the head of his cock over them, smearing them in the sticky white film of his release. "God, you look good like that." He pushed his cock between Alfred's teeth and cheek, watching as the skin rose in the shape of his shaft as he moved it in and out. He sighed and rolled off of him, coming to sit beside Alfred, propped up against a pillow, watching his unconscious face idly. He reached over into the drawer of his nightstand and fished out a pack of menthols and a lighter. He lit up and slipped the cigarette between his lips, taking a deep inhale that made his skin tingle and his mind go hazy for a moment. "Mm." He exhaled in a stream of smoke.

He enjoyed his smoke slowly for another ten minutes before deciding it was time to clean up his mess. He got up and went around between Alfred's legs again, curiosity taking hold of him, urging him to bend down and poke at Alfred's red, puffy used hole. He giggled as it expelled his cum. Not wanting to get anything dirty, he took his finger into his mouth and sucked off his essence, eyes rolling up to the ceiling thoughtfully. "Hmm," he hummed, extracting the finger from his mouth and wiping the saliva off on his leg. "You know, I was thinking. Should I keep you in my room to play a little more? Or should I just take you down to the basement and wait for you to wake up?" He paused, as if waiting for Alfred's reply. "Well, since you have nothing to say on the matter, I suppose I will be the one to decide. Hmm… keeping you in here will mean drugging you more to keep you quiet, and I don't particularly have an infinite store of sedative. I also want to play with others, which would certainly be impossible if I'm without the drugs. As for the other option, I wouldn't be able to play with you anymore, but I'd have my prizes to keep and there are always the pictures…" Arthur shrugged and grabbed Alfred's ankles. "All right, love, it looks as if we're going to be taking a trip downstairs."

Arthur made sure to take special care not to bang Alfred on anything as he dragged him out of his bedroom and down the hall. He arrived at the living room coffee table and dropped Alfred in order to move it out of the way. He rolled up a rug and revealed a square door in the wood. He lifted the hatch and grabbed Alfred underneath his arms, pulling him backward down the creaking stairs and into the dark, dank chamber.

This was the only place Arthur could never really keep clean. But it was no matter. No one knew about this place other than him anyway. He turned on the naked bulb hanging in the center of the ceiling as he arrived at the bottom, tugging Alfred to the middle of the cold cement floor and positioning his nude form spread eagle. He then grabbed a manacle, the chain rattling as Arthur lifted it, clapping it onto Alfred's right wrist and then his left. Within moments, he had effectively bound all of Alfred's limbs to the manacles that were secured to the floor. Arthur dusted his hands off, shivering from the chill of the basement as he was still naked. But he knew he had no need for clothes with the dirty work he would soon be doing.

He stood back and examined Alfred. "Stunning," he concluded. "Absolutely exquisite. I can't wait to add you to my collection, you gorgeous thing. You may be my best piece yet."

Alfred groaned as he turned his head, his neck sore from laying in such a position for so long. "Ugh…" He opened his eyes and was blinded for a moment by the bright light hanging over him. "Mmf, what…?" He tried to cover his eyes with his hand but found that it was attached to something on the floor. "What? H-hey, this is… Artie? Artie!"

"Right here, love," Arthur said in a voice that dripped honey. Alfred's head immediately snapped to the man who was wrapped in a blanket sitting in the corner of the room.

"W-what's going on?" Alfred demanded, tugging at his bonds. Only then did he realize that he was stripped and spread wide. "Why am I naked? Why… w-where are we?"

"In my basement, love."

"Basement…?" Alfred echoed suspiciously. He began to wriggle more furiously. "What the hell is going on, Arthur? Why'd you tie me up?"

Arthur rose from off the floor, blanket still clutched around him, walking over to Alfred and saying as casually as discussing the weather, "I wanted to play a little game."

"Game? What game? I never agreed to a game!" Arthur caught Alfred's wince as he set his sore ass back down onto the floor.

Arthur gave a giggle that made Alfred stiffen and stare. "Love, I don't think you ever agreed to be fucked either."

Alfred's eyes opened wide then, and he went very tense. "Y-you… you r-raped me." As he said it, the light glinted off little wet pinpricks forming at the corners of his eyes. Alfred looked away. "You fucking raped me and now you wanna use me as a goddamn fucktoy? You're fucking sick."

"Oh, I don't deny that I am sick, my dear Alfred." Arthur dropped the blanket from around his shoulders, and the sound of it hitting the floor made Alfred's gaze snap back to him. The boy gave a disgusted scowl when he was met with the sight of Arthur's stiff erection. "I am very sick. I've known it for a while. Alas, no one could fix me. So I do what I can to relieve my urges."

The true reality of the situation hit Alfred then, and he seemed to shrink into himself a bit. "And… what urges are those?"

Arthur gave a sinister smile. "Sexual urges, but not the kind that any normal person has. You must understand, I am unique. I love when my lovers are totally compliant even when in pain. But I like them best when they are dead."

Alfred's heart struck up a harsh pounding behind his ribcage and his breathing picked up significantly. "You're a… a… a fucking necrophiliac."

Arthur pondered this title for a moment, then replied. "Well, yes, but that is only part of it. Alfred, love, do you see this?" He motioned to his cock. Alfred had been trying not to look at it, but now he felt he had to. It twitched and he swallowed, eyes meeting Arthur's again. They had darkened considerably.

"Um… y-yeah."

Arthur's leer widened. "Do you know what I was thinking about the whole half hour you were passed out? Sitting over in that dark corner watching you?"

Alfred shook his head, never taking his eyes off the Briton.

Arthur's voice was a withering, aroused sigh, "I was thinking of all the ways I could stab you. All the ways I could dismember you. How you were so beautiful on the surface, but wondering how it would all look underneath. Would your bones be just as pretty as your body?"

A few tears slipped out of Alfred's eyes, and the scowl quivered on his face. Arthur was breaking him. Alfred could barely bring himself to look Arthur in the eyes, this monster of a man. How had he not known? How was it not obvious what Arthur was? "Please," he begged. "I-I… I'll be your lover, I… you said how you were lonely, and I'll do whatever you w—"

He was interrupted by a dark chuckle. Arthur shook his head. "You truly are a thick one, aren't you? Well, I wasn't expecting everything about you to be perfect. But as your body is the only thing I'm concerned with, how your mind works is next to nothing to me. I lied, love. Some half truths, but mostly lies through and through. And didn't you hear me? I said I don't fancy living lovers as much as dead ones. They tend to be less… defiant. The truth is, I am never more sociable than when I'm surrounded by skeletons."

Alfred's Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes were wet and red with the reality of the situation. "Y-you're going to kill me?"

Arthur's smile turned warm—the one Alfred had seen when Arthur was sucking him off earlier in the day when things seemed sane. "Now I knew you would come to a conclusion sometime. Yes, Alfred, love, I am going to kill you. But since you're such a pretty young thing, I don't want to kill you in a way that will affect your appearance, skeleton-wise at least. How about I give you a drink? You look parched."

Alfred recalled the drugs that had rendered him unconscious earlier and shook his head. "No… n-no, I don't want anything from you, sick fucker."

Arthur tsked. "Now, now, Alfred, I offered to kill you in a way that you wouldn't feel a thing. But if you insist on using such vulgar language, I will have to resort to other, more violent methods."

Alfred was visibly crying now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, my brother, he'll be devastated if I die. And my parents, and—"

"Oh, Alfred, darling," Arthur chastised as he walked over to a closet on the other side of the room, opening it with a loud creak. "If you're going to beg like that, then I'll have no choice but to fuck you again. But I will have to drug you before that." He pulled out a pill bottle, a water bottle, and a knife. He smiled at Alfred. "Count yourself lucky, Alfred. You will be my first piece of art in America. I have taken other victims, but they turned out to be ugly and dirtied my house in the process."

Alfred shook. "You've done this b-before?"

"Why, yes, else this would have gone terribly wrong. I am no amateur, as you can very well see. That's how it works when you're aroused only by death. The act becomes second-nature at some point." He moved to sit on his knees beside Alfred, the feel of his hard cock brushing against the boy's stomach making Alfred want to retch. Arthur cracked open a capsule of sedative before sprinkling it into the water. Alfred watched as it dissolved, the means to his end. Arthur offered it to him. "Tip your head back and open your mouth, love. You won't feel a thing with this, I promise."

Alfred turned his head away. "N-no, you're sick. So sick. I-I can't believe I ever t-trusted you. Burn in hell."

"Oh, of that there is no doubt." Arthur shook the bottle, making the drugged water slosh. "Come now, have a drink." When Alfred still didn't move, Arthur grabbed the boy's jaw between two ironlike fingers and jerked his face around. "I said open your bloody mouth before I break your jaw."

Alfred whimpered and did so, allowing Arthur to pour the water into his mouth. Afterward, the Briton set down the bottle and forced Alfred's mouth shut. "Swallow, love," Arthur cooed, and when that prominent Adam's apple didn't bob like Arthur had witnessed earlier, he clamped his fingers over Alfred's nose and snapped, "Swallow!"

Alfred held his breath for as long as he could, but he eventually had no choice but to comply. A sob wrenched its way from his lungs as he did so, nearly making him choke. Arthur stroked his throat like one stroke's a dog's throat when giving it a pill. "Good, good, Alfred. You see, love, it wasn't all that hard. I am very convincing, no?"

Alfred wished he could vomit the liquid up from his stomach, but even then he knew it would do no good. He was going to die anyway, so he might as well make it painless. He began to sob. "I-I don't want to die. Please, let me go. L-let me go, Arthur, please. I won't tell anyone about this, I p-promise. You'll be able to f-find someone e-else to—"

"But you're just so perfect," Arthur insisted with a dreamy sigh as he sat crosslegged next to Alfred, knife in his lap. "I have to have you in my collection. You'll be so beautiful in it, I just know it. I want you, love, I want you desperately. Can you feel how much I want you?" He moved to Alfred's head, lifting it and placing it in his lap. His hard cock rubbed against Alfred's face, and Alfred wanted so much to bite it off, but the drugs were starting to inhibit his basic functions. Arthur grinned and leaned over him, pressing his lips to Alfred's forehead. "Will you let me have you?"

Alfred gave one last, deep-chested sob before going boneless, teary eyes fluttering shut as the drug finally kicked in. Arthur kissed the boy's brow and watched his chest rise and fall for a moment. Then he lifted his knife. "I knew you would. Let's start with your head."

"Arthur? Arthur, where are you? Arthur!"

Arthur didn't respond, too engrossed in something that he'd found in the woods at the edge of the park, hunched over, six-year-old eyes wide and wondering.

Arthur slashed his throat from ear to ear, blood spraying onto his arms and lap. His cock twitched with the feel of the warm, sanguine liquid coating it, and Arthur already felt fit to burst.

His mother was still calling for him, but Arthur couldn't bring it in himself to care like he normally would. He picked up a twig, twirling it between his fingers before poking at the body.

He carved into Alfred's neck, working his wrist into tendon, muscle, and artery. He knew using a knife for such a procedure would take a great strain on his arms, but then again he loved the feel of decapitation.

He drew the twig over the fur caked with blood, over the wound in the side, prodding around inside of it and withdrawing, pulling the twig close to his face to see remnants of meat and congealed blood clinging to the stick.

"Mmm~" Arthur's hips twitched as he finished, pulling Alfred's head from his body, leaving a bloody smear across the floor. "Fuck, that's hot." He could still never get over how arousing killing was. He moved the head aside and stabbed Alfred's torso again and again and again.

He felt something inside of him then, something that urged him to set down the twig. He did so and he stared at the body for a while, fingers itching. He stretched a hand out, running light fingers over the fur, the blood, the deathly mess.

Blood poured out, spurting in hot, thick streams over Arthur's naked form until he orgasmed, his semen mixing with the source of his arousal. "Shit," Arthur breathed, winded, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it to completion, rubbing it around in one of Alfred's spurting wounds, covering it in red.

And then he dug his fingers in, searching, squeezing, tearing. He ripped the poor, dead thing apart and was elated. It felt so good, the control. He could do whatever he wanted, and the animal couldn't escape. He pulled the intestines out and wound the delicate organs around his fingers, giggling with delight as blood dripped down onto his clothes.

He threw his head back, moaning, giving himself a few more strokes before hunching over to recover, inhaling the intoxicating scent of blood and death.

"Arthur? Oh, thank goodness." His mother ran up behind him and was about to scold him harshly. But Arthur didn't want that. He wanted to show her what he'd found, his precious work of art. Little Arthur turned around to face her, gore cupped in his tiny hands.

"Look, Mummy," he squealed. "Look at what I made!"

Clapping a hand to her mouth, Mrs. Kirkland bent over into the bushes and promptly threw up. And Arthur still sat there, holding the rotting rabbit's innards, smiling as if he had just found the greatest toy in the world.

He eventually composed himself and leaned over, taking Alfred's head in his hands. Still shaking with the affects of his orgasm, he pressed his lips to the cold, plump pink ones. "It's completely your fault, love."

A Word From the Writer: Frankly this was a result of watching too many late-night crime shows and wondering "Hmm, how would England be as a serial killer?" Thus crazy, merciless, sociopathic England was born. Now, I know his 2p form drugs people, but I want to make it clear that this is purely 1p!England... you know, as a sort of sexual sadist.

I have a mind to continue this. I just like the idea of England picking off the other countries to add to his 'collection.' My first gore fic, y'all, and I'm kinda liking it. Of course I might not be able to update regularly because of Standing at the Edge of the World updates and all, but tell me what you think and I may just consider adding to it.

Happy not-so Halloween!