Every breath I take, I'm breathing you.
Everything about tonight was perfect, the pieces were in place, the cards dealt accordingly, and the winning hand rest entirely in Arthur's favour. Nothing could ruin this moment, not a single strand of distress could be woven into the threads of such immaculate artistic composition. They'd worked hard, together, Alfred and Arthur, to build and compose, sketch and design, and they weren't even to the climax yet. Their bodies slick, saturated by sweat and heat and passion from the highest degree of their hearts, chests rising and falling rapidly with each unsteady inhale and exhale. A synchronicity of ecstasy sparking between their bodies, again and again, like a match struck across ignition with each thrust, each shift of movement.
Under his body, cold, dew stricken grass rubbed against his bare open flesh, the sensation oddly satisfying. Perhaps it was the notion that privacy did not exist where they were, out in the open for everyone to see, yet so far from civilization in their minds, or maybe Arthur was just perverted. Either option suited his fancy. He opened his eyes and loved the way Alfred's expression was so raw, flawless, and absent of self-restraint. He was enjoying himself, that bastard, it wasn't often Arthur presented him the privilege to build paradise between his thighs.
Paradise…it was more than paradise, their world. It was Utopia. A world all their own, built by their minds, their hands, their relationship, their love, their verysouls. Arthur felt nothing but a surge of bliss course through his limbs when he looked into Alfred's cornflower coloured eyes and saw the distant, far off skies of their universe reflected on their surface, and he was sure the American saw the same. No one would understand, no one could understand but them. It was impossible to fathom something intangible created by invisible bonds connected through the heart, the mind, the body and the soul.
Heavy words laden with ardor pooled from Arthur's mouth, a cacophonous litany of silent prayers. The only actual articulation picked up by the human ear was Alfred's name, again and again, chanted like a plea and punctuated by soft, needy sounds. He was close…so very close, his thighs serpentine around the American's hips. How beautifully ironic it was that their bodies fit together this nicely, it was almost as if they were made to be connected together.
Offering more of himself up, a gentle arch of his back and a tilt of his head so Alfred could hungrily stake his claim over Arthur in a myriad of skin-melting kisses and bites, he felt as if he were a sacrifice to some pleasure seeking God. And maybe that's what Alfred was in his world; his God. He then had to wonder if this applied for Arthur to Alfred. A curiosity to be tamed on a later date, the main focus should remain here, in their bed on the ground of the hill outside Arthur's elaborately designed mansion.
Rosy red lips loosened, ripped apart to drain away every pleasure potent sound trapped within his esophagus, immediately consumed by the pair possessed by his lover. Arthur tried to gasp, but Alfred hooked his mouth and bled him dry of breath as sensation was consumed by climax and his mind became a blank canvas of nothingness. The world exploded, the remains strewn messily around his conscious, he was barely conscious of his nails burying themselves into Alfred's skin, hard enough to draw blood. (Not that Alfred cared, he was sure.) He was floating as if his soul had separated from his body, and he didn't want to stop.
It was only a second, but it felt like years, and just as quickly as his release took him, it disappeared like a phantom, leaving him weak but satisfied. It wasn't long after that Alfred blossomed within him, maybe a minute, or God — he didn't know, and frankly he didn't care, Just hearing those self-serving sounds was enough to feed that greedy Brit's ego. Lavishing him in satisfaction, and he welcomed Alfred's descent upon his body, arms like ropes bound around his figure as he felt the American struggled to steady his staggering breaths.
A steady stroke of nimble fingertips through satin soft storms of gold piled on Alfred's head elicited pleasant purrs from his darling love. 'I love you.' Whispered Alfred so softly into his ear like it were some terribly damning secret and the thought made Arthur laugh inside, because maybe it was. Maybe it would be what threw them into the pit of madness called 'Hell', but he didn't mind. As long as he was with Alfred, he'd endure even the most horrendous of torturous retribution for indulging in a sin not meant for mankind. 'I love you too my sweet.' Arthur whispered back and closed his eyes to fall into the catacombs of comfort crafted by their relationship.