Prologue
First of Many
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"Please don't wait up for me, love. I'll be home late tonight."
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Arthur had always been a boring man. Or a simple one at the very least. Simply dressed, simple goals, simple pleasures. He showed up everyday to his job at the publishing company, did what he needed to, got his dues, and rarely socialized. While his work wasn't bestseller material, he was rather popular amongst the community for his articles on fairy tales in a local magazine. A modest position and one he was completely content to reside in. The perfect nameless, faceless cog in the mechanism of corporal business.
His home-life was no different. No real hobbies besides reading and gardening. Owner of one cat. Faithful partner for a spanning two years. Rarely went out on the town, though was prone to a massive hangover the next morning for these rare instances of splurge.
He led a happy, simple life.
But there was one thing that threw a wrench into his plan – his editor. Francis Bonnefoy was the foil to his character, if looking from a storyteller's viewpoint, in every sense of the word. A man of many extravagant pleasures – from fine clothing, dining, wines, and cigars – as the Brit came to learn through his months on the clock. Never once standing still in his exciting life, living out every moment like it was the last. Not only was the man blessed with good taste, but good looks as well. From his perfectly structured face, to his sharp blue eyes, flowing blonde hair tied off into a ponytail, and perfectly proportioned body, he seemed much homier walking on the catwalk rather than pushing pencils. All complete with a personality that matched the expectations of such looks – snobbish, flirty, and egotistical; it drove him mad.
Now was no different. Arthur felt like he would go insane, all due to this pretty, pretty man. Burning by an incredible heat, like hellfire itself, he could only extinguish it by rolling his hips back. Those perfectly poised lips ghosted over his goose-bitten skin, latched onto the back of his neck and sucked. The Brit shivered, feeling weak in the knees like he would collapse right to the floor if his weight wasn't pushed into the desk.
Hands greedily roamed along his chest, gripping and grabbing and scratching at any skin he could find. Somehow his touch felt like both mistreatment and a lover's gentle caress at the same time. Francis's fingers were much different compared to Alfred; not as callous, but much more slender and graceful. They knew exactly where to pinch and tweak and squeeze to further the man's madness.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Adultery rang in Arthur's ears, drowning the rest of the world out.
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BETA REQUIRED
For all the literary nerds out there, this story will follow a framed format. Which means that we know what the effect is, but the causes will be revealed in time. Yay.
I love the Blonde Trio. Or FRUKUS. Or whatever you may call it. I have no idea why. Anyway, this started as an one-shot but has involved into a full length fic. This was the prologue, and very short. Other chapters will be longer.