Pairing: US/CAN/UK
Warnings: previous warnings apply
Disclaimer: Thankfully for you, I don't own Hetalia
"Back off, Artie." Alfred scowled, throwing an arm around Matthew's relaxed body and pulling the other nation closer. "Its my turn."
"Can't I have a break?" Matthew whined, squirming against Alfred's hold.
Arthur, now unbuttoning the blond's billowy shirt, pulling the damp fabric away from his sweaty skin. "If I can go another round, so can you lad."
"You're not going another round!" The superpower snapped. His hand came possessively down on Matthew's backside. "Mine."
Matthew, a frown already in place, bit the other's collar harshly, nearly breaking skin. "Hoser." He hissed.
"Matt, you know biting only makes me hornier." Alfred chided, slipping his fingers into Matthew's loosened hole. "I think you're good to go."
"You're lucky I love you both." Matthew grumbled, rolling onto his back and pulling Alfred with him, his legs spreading automatically so the older nation could kneel in between them.
Smiling brightly, Alfred pushed forward, nudging the tip of his cock at Matthew's entrance. Shifting the other's legs onto his shoulders, the blond asked, "Ready bro?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Because this is an appropriate time to invoke family ties."
"Shut up, dad."
Matthew giggled. "Or would you prefer mom?"
"Cheeky bastards." The English nation grumbled, reaching over and tweaking the Canadian's errant curl before twisting it around his finger.
"Nnngh…" Matthew moaned, arching his back off the mattress at the other's ministrations.
Alfred, wearing a devious smirk, took the opportunity to enter the other nation, gasping as he was enveloped by the other's damp heat. Chancing a glance at Matthew, the blond drank in the sight of the other's flushed face and he leaned down, licking at Matthew's lower lip that was being bitten to a dark shade of crimson. Then, coaxing the other's mouth open, Alfred slipped his tongue alongside Matthew's, twisting around the other and mapping out the interior. Pulling back only briefly for needed breath, the two nations continued to kiss, stopping only for a stray moan or nip or air.
Arthur was content to watch, leisurely playing with Matthew's curl and enjoying the sight of his former colonies moving against each other slowly, their chests pressed together, Matthew's cock weeping and trapped between the two nations, and their bodies moving in unison, the concept of borders or lines or space forgotten in their intimate dance. Alfred took his time, building up to a steady, sure pace, moving slowly to drag out their completion. Matthew, golden curls smeared across his cheeks, clung to Alfred's shoulders, his knees nearly at his own shoulders, body threatened to be bent in half.
Matthew came first, a half-choked little cry, and his semen splattering against his and Alfred's stomach. With a sigh, his right leg slipped off Alfred's shoulder and his eyes shut as he panted softly. Alfred, on the other hand, screwed his eyes shut and, with one large hand gripping the other's thigh, spread the nation's legs further and began to speed up, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Hissing "fuck", the North American nation surged forward, his second climax tearing through his body. Feeling his own body go limp, the superpower fell forward, barely managing to keep his full weight off Matthew by planting his hand next to the other's head and catching himself.
Arthur, with a fond smile, gently rearranged the two so that they were lying side-by-side, curled around each other like dozing puppies.
"Thanks Artie." Alfred slurred sleepily, groping for the bed sheet. "Lets DP Mattie tomorrow."
"I'm going to burn down your White House again." Matthew retorted, struggling to glare viciously at the other. "And you'll cry like a baby again."
"That's enough you two." Arthur rolled his eyes, pulling a sheet over the three of them as he snuggled against Matthew's back.
The next morning, Arthur awoke as Matthew stirred against him, looking over his shoulder at the Englishman with a sleepy smile.
"Mornin'." He murmured, long lashes shielding his violet eyes.
"Morning to you, love." Arthur responded, voice still thick with sleep. At some point during the night, his arm had wrapped around the other's waist and he tightened his grip. "How do you feel?"
"Pleasantly sore." Matthew laughed faintly, shifting against Arthur, his rear brushing against the other's morning erection. "I think I know how you feel."
"Can't blame me, poppet. Waking up to a handsome man is enough to get anyone randy."
Matthew snickered, pushing back against the other more firmly. Arthur retaliated by peppering kisses down the other's neck, purring in approval when the other tilted his head to allow greater access. Sucking hard at the junction of neck and shoulder, Arthur reached for Matthew's prick, stroking the rising organ with deft fingers, just barely making out the beginnings of a fetching pink flush on the blond's face.
Matthew, reaching back, grabbed hold of choppy sandy-colored hair and angled the other's face so he could litter kisses along his jaw line.
When the nation's whispered noises turned more desperate, Arthur chuckled, ripping the sheet off themselves so he could see more of Matthew, his green eyes immediately drawn to the other's inviting backside. Letting go of Matthew's erection (since his other arm was being used to prop himself up), the former pirate teased his entrance and, very seriously, started to ask if Matthew needed more preparation.
However, Matthew huffed and interrupted the half-formed question by thrusting his hips back and snapping, "Less talking."
"Ye asked for it, wench."
"I really don't understand this obsession in calling me—ahhh!" Matthew whined at the sting of being entered so abruptly.
"Less talking." Arthur parroted, smirk teasing as he lifted his leg over the other's hip and nudged Matthew's leg over as well. Matthew's mouth opened in a breathy moan as the angle of the thrusts changed and deepened and his hands grasped at the sheets as Arthur pushed against his prostrate every other thrust, his body thrumming with pleasure.
It was slow sex, both nations still caught in the dregs of sleep and warm from the covers and the yolky sunshine dripping through the single window and spilling across the room.
Arthur hummed a soothing tune, one that Matthew vaguely remembered to be an old English drinking song and the recognition brought a soft smile to his face.
"Thanks for starting without me." A petulant voice rang out and Matthew opened his eyes to see Alfred pouting at them, his blue eyes peering over the curve of the pillow he had buried his face into. "Maybe I wanted a little morning delight."
"Wait your turn." Arthur scolded. "Never could share, could he?" He whispered into Matthew's ear, earning a snicker.
"Heard that." Alfred sulked. "No one loves me."
"Get used to it." Came the callous response and Matthew reached back to deliver a sharp pinch to his former guardian's hip, though Arthur didn't pause in his measure, methodical thrusts.
Then, looking back at Alfred, the blond grabbed his neighbor's wrist and dragged him over, shifting so that he could wrap his arms around the superpower's shoulders. "I'll let you chain me up later." He promised.
"Will you wear the barmaid's dress we brought?"
"…You brought what?"
Hours after they had fallen asleep after their morning romp, Arthur and Alfred woke up again, eventually realizing that they were missing someone.
"He's the second largest country!" Arthur swore, scrambling out of bed. "And we're on a boat—"
"Motherfucker." Alfred snickered, expression turning sheepish when Arthur glared at him.
"He was right here!"
"Are you sure he's still not?" The superpower asked, pulling out his breeches, sans boxers, and stretching.
Pausing, Arthur looked very hard at the rumpled and filthy sheets. "He'd have thrown something at us by now." The Englishman said slowly. "Maybe he's in the galley?"
"Maybe he's making pancakes!" Alfred said excitedly, rushing towards the door and throwing it open—
—before promptly slamming it shut and pressing back against it, blue eyes wide and terrified as he shrieked, "Ghosts with swords!"
Arthur's left eye twitched and he scowled, eyebrows knitting together. "Git." He scolded, striding forward and dragging the trembling superpower away from the heavy door. With a huff, he opened the door and stepped out.
And came face to face with a mob of sword-wielding ghosts.
"What the bloody fuck is this?" He bellowed. "Matthew Williams get your arse out here now!"
"Yes Arthur?" A voice called sweetly and Matthew appeared, his blond hair peeking over the railing of the quarterdeck.
"Don't 'yes Arthur' me." The Brit spat out. "Explain yourself and don't forget, you're not too old for a lashing, boy."
When Matthew finally made his way down to the nations, he was smiling innocently.
Both Arthur and Alfred stared at the quiet northern nation who was now dressed in a flamboyant waistcoat and tight black breeches. Arthur's enormous black tricorn was perched on his head, the white feather trailing down the side. At his side was a gleaming rapier.
"What is this?" Arthur inquired as Alfred whimpered, looking around at the floating swords.
Matthew's smile widened and turned sly for the briefest second before his kind disposition reappeared. "Mutiny." He answered simply.
Arthur and Alfred looked equally flabbergasted.
"Did you know these ghosts are all Canadian?" the blond explained brightly. "Take them below deck." He added before turning on his heel and walking away, calling out, "Not suited for a pirate's life, my ass!"
"Can he do that?" Alfred asked, poking Arthur. "Hey, hey, Artie! I said, can he—are you crying?"
"I am so proud." Arthur sniffled, paying no mind to Alfred who shrieked when one of the ghosts prodded him with the broad side of his sword. "He never fails to exceed my expectations unlike a certain someone." He said snidely, giving Alfred a pointed look.
"…We never had a chance to grow up normal, did we?"
"And you were worried about Alfred and Arthur." President Obama said casually, staring right at the Canadian prime minister.
"They're in Spanish waters. Lets lobby the government." Prime Minister Harper suggested, torn between deciding on a punishment for his nation and standing up, laughing victoriously, and shouting, "What now bitches?" followed by "How do you like Canada now, eh?" and then topped with a dramatic exit.
But that might be a bit over the top…and Matthew might start to think it was okay to hijack pirate ships and joyride around Europe.
"Because Spain will really give us permission once we tell him his former naval rival in trapped in his territory." Prime Minister Cameron said, rather snippily.
(When Matthew had shyly called Spain to ask for permission to drop anchor in his waters, the cheerful nation said Matthew could stay as long as he wanted—grinning evilly when he heard Arthur and Alfred's shouted curses in the background.)
"Well, then it seems our hands are tied." Prime Minister Harper sighed, his expression unapologetic. "I'll be sure to give Matthew a strongly worded lecture when he returns."
The American President and British Prime Minister just stared at him.
Haha, so here's my rushed final chapter of my first ever threesome fic. If you readers ever wanted to know what I think about, now you know. My thoughts are filled with US/CAN/UK sex. Always.
Thank you for reading, following along, and leaving such nice reviews. Oh, and for putting up with this smutty nonsense. XD