New story! I would love if any readers could let me know what they think, and if they would be interested in seeing this continued. I am so grateful for anyone taking the time to try out this little story of mine, and I hope you get some enjoyment out of it!
The music pulsated around the sweaty dancers. It was loud, to the point of being unpleasant, but not quite there. Arthur moved his way lithely through the crowd, bumping up against people with a shoulder or a hip, the music making him sway as though he was consumed by the rhythm instead of just partaking in the festivities. A flash of gold caught his eye over the heads of his fellow dances, and all at once his dance had direction. Pushing his way subtly through the sea of bodies he found himself face to face with what must have been in some previous life a Greek god. His blond hair was swept over his forehead in a way that made Arthur think he must have spent half hour in front of the mirror to look so casual, and his blue eyes sparkled almost eerily clear in such a dark room. His blue jeans hugged him just enough, and his red t-shirt was not quite clinging to his obviously well built torso. If Arthur was a schoolgirl, he would have swooned. As it was though, he only smirked and edged his body closer. They didn't need words to communicate their meaning, and even if they had tried the music was too loud for verbal communication. Arthur's hips were swaying too close for it to be accidental, and the blond stranger's hands had started to roam in a way that gave little doubt as to what would happen. When the music gave a dip in volume between songs, Arthur turned abruptly and pushed his lips against his dance partner's, pushing them both back towards the door. The flash of doubt that erupted briefly in his head was immediately squashed at the sensation of a smile curving against his mouth. They both wanted this. Tumbling through the door of the night club, they wasted only a moment in seeing each other in the light before hailing a taxi and going back to Arthur's place. The ride was over before they knew it, as distracted as they both had been by the sensation of another's tongue in their mouths. It was a pleasant distraction. It was a flurry of motion that propelled them into the apartment building, into the elevator, and to the top floor where Arthur's apartment was located. As he scrambled for his keys, he let himself ask breathlessly "What's your name?" The other man laughed. It vibrated lightly through the halls, an unexpectedly loud and vaguely obnoxious but potentially endearing laugh. "Alfred." Was the response. "Arthur" the shorter man offered. And then they were inside, and words were no longer a concern. Alfred's hands were everywhere, his mouth, his tongue. Arthur pulled them towards the bed, leaving a trail of clothes from the both of them strewn across the floor like breadcrumbs. And then they were engulfed by the blankets and the heat and each other. Arthur couldn't tell if it was going too fast or too slow, or just perfect, but he knew it was better than he could have imagined. His skin was on fire, and he was sure Alfred felt the same way by how he moved and blushed under his hands.
The night was a blur, and before he knew it, Arthur was rolling over in his bed, stretching his arm out, his eyes still closed from sleep. It wasn't until his arm hit air and cold bed sheets that his eyes snapped open. Where was he? Arthur jerked his head up, and gazed dazedly around the room. Surely he hadn't gone without a word, or note. He slipped from between the sheets, shimmying into a pair of shorts lying discarded on the floor. "Alfred?" He called tentatively. His voice echoed, lonely in the house. There was no response. What started out as a slight discomfort in his stomach shortly swiftly into anger. He had thought they had a connection. It wasn't as though he put any sort of importance on a one night stand, he just wanted to at least be dignified with a farewell. After strutting around his apartment angrily, finding further proof that Alfred had left without so much as a note goodbye, Arthur had finally reached the boiling point.
"Well that's bloody well and good then. You don't give me the time of day after a rather lovely shag, then I'll be obliged to return the favor. I curse you, Alfred...whatever your last name was, you tosser!" He grabbed at the pillow on what had been Alfred's side of the bed, and scoured it for the tiny bit of evidence that Alfred had been there at all. "Aha!" There it was. A minuscule blond hair, still clinging to the white cotton spread. Arthur seized it with vicious gusto, pinching it between his first finger and thumb as he carried it to the kitchen. He pulled a large, bound volume from beneath the counter, heaving it to the top, and letting it fall open to a certain page. The hair safely resting in a large container, he scoured the parchment, fiendishly running his finger down the lines of tiny print. At last he paused, his eyes lighting up with an evil glint. "Perfect." He hissed. The kitchen became a flurry of movement, a pinch of this, a dash of that, and a cloud of smoke began to billow up over the pot now bubbling on the stove. It spread through the room, mingling with Arthur's maniacal laughter. "You thought you could just come over, sleep with me, share a meaningful experience, that didn't mean anything to me, but you could at least have said goodbye!" It didn't matter that he was rambling, his fingers were still following the lines of the page. And then he was muttering incantations, there was a flash of light, and it was done. A calm settled over the kitchen, the smoke dissipating like fog on a clear morning. Arthur stood stock still in the center of the room. He had placed the curse, a terrible curse, but where he had hoped for some sort of relief, he only felt a sense of quiet emptiness. Swiftly, he cleaned up the countertop, discarding the evidence of what had been done, and storing the large book of spells safely back beneath the counter.