The air chilled his breath, little white clouds drifting from his lips as his chest heaved and ached. Damn it! Why didn't I keep an eye on the time?! Arthur checked his watch as he darted across the road, not bothering to check for traffic, not caring if he got hit. It'd be a mercy, really. To end all this madness. This stupid, stupid façade.

I hate myself.

He stumbled to a stop, tip of his shoe tripping on the edge of the pavement. Cursing, he righted himself, straightening his white shirt and pulling down on his cuffs. It's not too late to call and cancel... say your sick... He sighed. When had that ever worked anyway? Scraping a rogue blonde lock out of his eyes, Arthur stared upwards, squinting against the blinding glow of the street lamp beside him. First floor. Second floor. Third. Fourth... Although the curtains were tightly drawn, the frames of the window panes seemed silhouetted by the pale glow of the lights inside. Go on. Do your thing. It's simple. Just do it.

Anger bubbled beneath the surface as the familiar and achingly annoying questions started swirling around his mind, attacking his sanity, shredding his common sense. I... can't- No. He crouched, ducking to the cold ground. A frost coated the concrete, the white specks sparkling in the spotlight of the street lamps like tiny stars. I'm- I'm not doing this again! I- His hands shook as they gripped the sides of his face, but he didn't feel the cold. Not any more. I am not weak. I am NOT weak. One. Two. His breathing started to slow as he reigned in his thoughts and shook off the disgusting clamminess that enveloped his skin every time he walked towards the building. There. Normal. Or as normal as Arthur could get these days. Bit by bit he straightened, locking away the fear. The tears that always threatened withdrew, dried by his hardened composure. I have to do this. I- I need the money.

Taking another long, slow breath to steady himself, he reached forwards and pressed the buzzer.

xXx

Almost as soon as it was opened, Arthur was pulled inside and pressed up against the hard, wooden door, his fragile frame used to slam the door shut. A hand was immediately at his throat, a gentle pressure applied just enough to be reminded who was in charge.

"You're late," he breathed, lips brushing Arthur's earlobe.

The old Arthur would have winced. Would have shoved him away. Cursed and punched him up. But this was the new Arthur. The new Arthur who stayed quiet no matter what, did as he was told - whatever he was told. The new Arthur was a stranger.

Apparently satisfied with his silence, the hand was removed from Arthur's throat. It slid down his chest until it's partner joined it and both hands found and rested on his hips. Things were going to be moving along as usual it seemed. Business. It was purely business.

"I was starting to think you'd abandoned me."

His hands were warm, the tips lightly tracing round the waistline of his trousers, dipping occasionally, tantalisingly, past the hem to brush against the smooth skin of Arthur's stomach.

"Perhaps," he said lightly, a small smirk crossing his features as he unbuttoned Arthur's shirt. "I could think of a few ways you could make up for it." He knelt, lips finding Arthur's newly revealed snow white skin, trailing a slow line of kisses down his stomach. Down... down... "Just a few ways to make it all better, hmm?" Those warm fingertips slipped his belt from its buckle and worked their way down. "Questions usually require an answer, Iggy. Unless... you need further convincing?"

His mouth had gone dry. Arthur just stood there, like a statue, bolt upright against the door, silent, waiting, willing. Long ago he'd given up talking to this man who treated him more like a pet than a human being. Talking wasn't required in this arrangement. He just needed to be there. What good would speaking do anyway? What would I even say...? I don't like this. I want to go home. Sometimes I go to sleep and wonder if, by some small mercy, I'll just stay sleeping. Wonder if I could have done things differently? Arthur halted his thoughts. He had no rights here. He had made this situation for himself, agreed to this filthy solution. It was his fault. Everything, as usual, came down to him making a stupid decision and now he was paying for it. No. No, he didn't have a right to say anything at all.

Those warm fingers brought him back to reality, Arthur cursing silently as he was caught slightly of-guard. That uneasy clamminess started to itch across his skin again. Do it. Just... let him do it.

"It's a good thing you arrived so late, yes?" Arthur knew he shouldn't have looked down, but he did. Bright topaz blue eyes stared into him, the light dancing in them. It was not the first time Arthur had met with those eyes and thought of how a cat regards a struggling mouse. A dirty, germ-ridden mouse. "Because I've had plenty of time to think about what we could do."

xXx

Author's Note: It's been a while! Hope you like this. Sorry, I've not written in a while so I'm rusty. You can thank my best friend for the inspiration - she recently wrote a fantastic South Park fanfic, and I was like: I need to write more. I've wanted to write something about England for a while. Hopefully this is enjoyable! All will be explained as the story progresses... As for who Iggy is calling to see, that will be revealed in the next chapter. In the mean time: what do you think?