Genre: Hetalia Magical Strike AU/Fifty Shades of Grey X-over

Warnings: BDSM Themes, NSFW

A/N: Okay, so I totally just hijacked the Magical Strike AU (sorry, Hima-sama!) and crossed it with Fifty Shades of Grey. It's not my fault! Okay, it's totally my fault. But that's the first thing I thought of when I encountered double Megane for the first time at 4:30 AM this morning! So here's a drabble for you. (Pic likely to follow.) Sidenote: I have zero problems with BDSM if people are mature enough to understand the difference between fantasy and reality.

~o~

Then Jones comes in.

Arthur loses his train of thought. Alfred Jones, the prodigal son. So rich that his name may as well be the Jones in Dow Jones. He is devilishly handsome and he knows it, his all-American wholesome ruggedness ruined by his sharp, intense eyes and his arrogant smirks. Though he is only nineteen, he has a dark charisma that gives him power and command over everyone in the room.

Arthur Kirkland most of all.

As always a shiver runs down Arthur's spine when those steel blue eyes pass over him. They lock on his for but a moment, before moving onto the other persons in the corporate board room where the heads of departments are gathered. It doesn't take more than that to make Arthur's body feel as though it's on fire. He shifts restlessly in his chair, hoping no one else notices his discomfort.

Only then does Arthur realize what Alfred is wearing. The long dark and fluffy coat, tall boots and that rather silly star on his cheek. His J-Pop Idol outfit. He rarely sees it in person. Alfred must have just done an appearance right here in Seattle. Yet even as ridiculous it may have looked on anyone else, somehow it suits Alfred and makes him even more the dark knight Arthur knows him to be. Especially when those blue eyes are only accentuated by that dark and smoky eyeshadow, the raven feathers framing his handsome face almost regally.

"Sorry all, I didn't have time to change," Alfred says to the room, striding over to his usual seat. With a nod his father resumes speaking, finally bringing Arthur's mind back to the present. All it took was for Alfred to walk in to derail him. Even now he can only pay half-attention to their discussion on challenging the Magical Strike movement, his body keenly aware of Alfred so nearby. So close he can almost smell the sandalwood soap that is now so intimate in his memory... and so ingrained in his desire.

It seems like an age before the meeting finally concludes. Arthur quickly escapes before anyone can notice how unbelievably aroused he is, keeping his binder as indiscreetly as he can over his groin. He is so grateful that Basch takes meticulous minutes, as his mind had been filled with nothing but Alfred Jones. He punches the down button rapidly for the elevator, only releasing a long breath of relief as he gets into it by himself. He has the view of the dark skyline of Seattle all to himself, the city spread out below him like a twinkling starscape.

Then he hears a small thump behind him and turns to find Alfred behind him as the doors open to his hand. Alfred Jones smirks and steps into the glass elevator. All the air seems to suck out of it as the door closes behind them. Arthur can scarcely breathe, the air between them electric. He can feel the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end as the younger man takes a step closer to him. Alfred's warm breath puffs against his neck, making a strange rippling wave of heat go right through him.

"You're not wearing your glasses," Alfred speaks, his voice as hard as steel. Immediately, Arthur starts and quickly brings his glasses out of his jacket pocket, putting them on. They aren't any use to him, his eyesight perfect. That doesn't matter. Whatever Alfred says goes. It's in the contract after all.

"I-I'm sorry. They were distracting," Arthur stammers, knowing it was already too late. He can see it in Alfred's predatory eyes. "I'm not used to them yet." Not to mention, he kept getting strange looks from his coworkers who weren't used to seeing him wearing spectacles. He can't tell them anything. None of them can ever know. He and Alfred have an agreement...

"You disobeyed me," Alfred whispers, pressing Arthur up against the glass wall of the elevator. Just a layer of glass keeping Arthur from plummeting hundreds of feet to the world below. He already feels as though he's falling into infinity. His hands grip his binder tightly, trembling in anticipation.

Alfred is so close that his whole body is radiating with heat. His eyes smoulder with domineering intensity. His slender fingers grasp Arthur's chin, tilting the Marketing Director's face upwards. Alfred suddenly smashes a hard kiss against Arthur's lips, harsh and demanding. His teeth bite down hard on Arthur's lower lip, making him cry out in both pain and pleasure. His strong hands wrap around Arthur's waist hard enough to bruise, pressing him so hard he can hardly breathe. Though his eyes rivet him to the glass as surely as his grip. "You need to be punished..." Alfred growls, cupping the back of Arthur's head as his body bowed towards the younger man.

The elevator dings and Arthur is suddenly released. He collapses to the floor in a rumpled heap, his knees too jelly-legged to keep him up. His papers scatter across the tiled marble floor of the elevator. The floor in front of them is dark, all of Arthur's subordinates having already headed home. He would have been grateful if he isn't so overwhelmed.

Alfred makes a small tsking sound, holding the door open with his hand. There's no point in both of them going up together. They'll likely get caught by no less than Alfred's father. And they can't have that, now can they? "Your punishment is going to be delayed then," Alfred says in haughty aloofness. "I expect you in the playroom in an hour." The 'or else' is implicit.

Nodding mutely, Arthur gathers up the papers from the floor from the ground messily back into his binder. Then he leaves the elevator as stealthily as he can. There might not be anyone around, but it had become second nature to sneak around the building. His relationship with Alfred is the second best kept secret in the company. The first best kept secret is the nature of Alfred's playroom and his very particular tastes.

Hint: There are no Xboxes in the playroom.

Hearing the elevator doors begin to slide closed, Arthur turns around to see Alfred's dark silhouette against the Seattle skyline. The last thing he sees in his wicked smirk, those sharp steely blue eyes. Alfred's lips murmur softly like a promise, "One hour, Arthur."

The door closes and Arthur collapses against a cool marble pillar. His heart hammers in his chest with both fear and desire. He knows that Alfred will hurt him. He knows that Alfred will make him beg.

And Arthur knows that he will love every minute of it.