All of a sudden, the world seemed to freeze.
Francis didn't know what was happening, but still he watched with keen eyes, his senses suddenly becoming alert. As if under some spell, Alice Kirkland had rose from her delicate seating on her royal-red loveseat. She crossed the distance between the two of them slowly, one step at a time, but yet she didn't waver, as though she had her mind set on something. It was a curious action in itself for Alice to approach him willingly, and Francis didn't understand why his tamed heart was gradually picking up speed the closer she came. There was something thrilling—something daring—about the moment, but he couldn't place why. It was as if something was crackling in the air...
But this time, it wasn't from heated tension.
By the time she stood before him, he swallowed, only to find that his throat had run dry. His mind reeled: These were schoolboy reactions, he thought to himself, something akin to disdain twinging at his mind. Someone as experienced as himself shouldn't be having them! But no matter how he tried to convince himself, his mind was wiped clear as soon as the girl daintily propped one knee on one side of him, the other following suit on his other side, promptly trapping him between her straddling. Blue eyes searched her face, rapidly trying to decipher her expression. Her grass-green orbs, which he had always found so effortless to read, were glazed over. There were emotions hidden behind those brilliant emeralds, that much he could sense, but those feelings were being closely contained, not a single one threatening to break to the surface for him to understand. He almost panicked.
In a sudden pause on his part, he realized it didn't take a genius to assess the situation. And the situation, one may ask? Francis was no longer in control.
As such, he almost panicked, but not quite, since Francis doesn't panic. Instead, he remained stock-still, allowing Alice to tilt his head towards her towering, lithe form in front of him. She has slender, feminine fingers with perfectly cut cuticles, he noted, as she used them to gently but firmly hold his chin in place. Her other hand was pushed onto his chest, over his thumping heart, securing him against the back of the seat. He fought back a shudder that threatened to make his whole body tremor at her touch, at her gaze. And he submitted to her, as she swoops down and claims his lips in an all-but-bruising kiss.
Under her now, he realized that the panic he had been feeling was actually a sense of vulnerability.
Because in all the years of his life, Francis couldn't remember the last time he had been dominated.
This was actually inspired by a fanart I saw on Arthur and Francis. It was part of a video, so I'm not quite sure where to find it... If I do, I'll try to put a link on here.