Possessive You and Despicable Me.
AN: This story is based off of the concept of Bonnie and Clyde. I find the tale of the two rather... romantic, but didn't want to replicate it in case it becomes inaccurate and I ruin it (The die-hard Bonnie and Clyde fans would gut me alive using only their words. Lol.). In this fic there will be character deaths, smut, and the nitty grittier side of the human mind. :D
Arthur and Alfred are twisted sociopaths and psychopaths who are madly in love, so yeah... my darkest and most contrasting fic yet. :3
ALSO! You guys know what happened to Bonnie and Clyde... so please be prepared, there will be character death.
AND! I thank you to all the people that read and reviewed "The Sea Between You And Me," as well as all the people that tumblr'ed it. I'm new to tumblr and yet the fandom there, like all UsUk fandoms, including on FF, are so very nice. So thank you very much! I cannot express how happy and grateful I am. THANK YOU.
PART ONE: Gluttony and Lust are old time lovers.
Alfred F. Jones fumbled slightly as he tried to light his cigar using only one hand, his left hand at that. He was currently naked with nothing but the bedsheets and blankets to cover him. His right arm was limp as Arthur had used it as a pillow. The smaller blond was still asleep. His bare chest moved gently up and down with his soft breathing. His face was serene, adorable thick brows were no longer set in the constant frown that he always wore during his waking hours.
Alfred watched the sunrise through the window of their expensive hotel suite. They were surrounded in finery, the bed made of the richest cotton, the blankets of silk. Tasteful paintings rested upon the walls, matching well with the burgundy of the plush carpet. It was a normal day. Even in this depression, the two of them lived comfortably. Of course, the money that paid for such luxuries was far from clean, but what the hell, you do what you have to to survive. Although Alfred wanted more than just to survive. He had done the whole 'just survive' thing during the war. He had done that, he was over it. No, Alfred wanted total and utter happiness and contentment. He had found that the moment he had met Arthur Kirkland.
"You have your thinking face on," said a breathy voice, followed closely with a yawn.
Alfred glanced down at his arm and smiled when he met beautiful green eyes. They never ceased to amaze him, how they shone so vividly. 'Do I?' said Alfred, his cerulean eyes sparkled in gentle amusement.
Arthur nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of Alfred's shoulder. He lay there for a moment in silence before getting up, slipping into the larger male's embrace. "Yes. It makes you look sexy."
"Babe, I look sexy all the time," stated Alfred with a crooked grin as he stubbed his cigar on the bedside table. He placed his calloused hands around his lover's bare hips. The silk had slipped down Arthur's smaller frame and pooled at his waist. The hickeys and love bites from last night were already beginning to bruise, peppering his neck, chest and belly. The purple clashed pleasantly against pale skin. Alfred couldn't help the surge of possessive pride that welled up at the sight of those marks.
"Mhn. True." Arthur's words were muffled as he nuzzled Alfred's neck, lapping at the bare skin and nipping harshly at the firm neck tendons before soothing it with an ever so slight suckle. His hands were grasping onto Alfred's shoulder, pushing him down till he was mostly lying on the bed.
Alfred let go of the grip he had on Arthur's hips and was content to allow the smaller male to do as he pleased. His breath hitched when Arthur traveled down lower, nipping at his collar bone and pecs. "Is this pay back from last night?" he asked in a gasping voice. Only Arthur was able do this to him, turn him into a pathetic pile of lust by mere nips and licks. He could feel the smaller male grin against his chest.
"You reap what you sow…" to emphasise this Arthur took a nipple into his mouth and sucked, rolling the pebbled nub with his tongue and grazing it with his teeth. He loved the way Alfred felt, not an ounce of fat, all toned and muscled. His skin was smooth and taut, tinted gold from the sun. He had the body of a god... but Arthur would never tell him that, the Texan's ego was already big enough.
"Fuck..." Alfred gripped the silk sheets. Already his cock was straining, standing erect and proud. He wanted nothing more than to flip the smaller blond over and fuck him raw, but as Arthur had taught him: "good things take time."
"I can't get enough of you." Arthur paid attention to the other nipple, laving it up with saliva before he withdrew and blew on it, the coldness making the nub erect and hard. With a smirk he began to tweak them, fiddling with them till they turned a luscious red. When he was done with that, he began to move lower, leaving a trail of wet love bites as he did so. He paused when he reached Alfred's hip, nuzzling the pronounced bone tenderly. "You saved me from an utterly boring life." His eyes, although filled with a heady lust, were softened with a fond memory of a not so distant past.
Alfred groaned, shifting his legs so that he could spread them wider. He brushed a hand through messy hair the color of wheat and smiled. "You saved me from a life of loneliness," he paused as if to think, and then added with a boyish grin, ".. and abstinence." Arthur nipped at his hip bone sharply in reply. The sensation shot straight down to his shaft and Alfred could feel the pre-cum beading on his tip.
"I love you." Arthur kissed the bullet wound scars that marred Alfred's lower stomach, near his right hipbone. A gift from the war.
"I love you to- Holy Fuck!" Alfred gasped and shuddered when Arthur abruptly took him into his mouth without warning. Immediately he wound his fingers into Arthur's hair, tugging at the messy locks. "Nghn. Y-you l-little minx."
Arthur just grinned as best he could with a mouth full of cock, emerald eyes glinting with cheekiness. His lips were stretched thin by the length that filled his mouth. He kept his hands on Alfred's hips, keeping the larger male from bucking wildly. Arthur took his mouth off the length and began to pay attention to the head, lapping at the pre-cum and switching between harsh sucks and soft blowing breaths.
Alfred tried to push Arthur down so that he could get more of that warm wet mouth but Arthur strained against it. He was the type to do things at his own pace, fuck everything else. He was such a tease! "Arthur!" exclaimed Alfred, his words ending in a heady whimper. It seemed as if Arthur had decided to take pity on him, because his length was soon surrounded by a wet heat and god did it feel amazing. He would never tire of Arthur's mouth, his lips, his tight heat, his soft skin. He would never get tired of Arthur. Ever.
Arthur began to bob his head up and down, loving the way the soft velvet of Alfred's prick brushed against his lips and filled his mouth. Arthur could feel his own erection straining, he moaned when it brushed against Alfred's leg, the vibrations of his voice further pleasing the other blond.
"Shit." Alfred tightened his grip on Arthur's hair, knowing that the slight pain of it would turn him on rather than hurt him. Even with Arthur trapping his hips Alfred still manage to thrust up, trying to get more of that slutty mouth. It wasn't enough, he wanted more. Always more, never enough. In a sudden movement that caught Arthur off guard, the taller male wrenched himself free and flipped Arthur till he was on his stomach and Alfred was on top of him. Looming over the smaller form like a predator, Alfred placed both hands on Arthur's plump ass, massaging the firm cheeks and giving them a firm slap. His grin widened at the surprised yelp that escaped Arthur's lips. Then in a single fluid motion, he entered Athur's tight, tight heat.
"Alfred!" Arthur cried out when his entrance was breached. Alfred's hot cock slid in easily, as he was still stretched from the love making the night before. The friction was delicious, filling him to the brim and stretching him till it was almost painful, but that merely turned him on even more. "Al- Al.. So full. Ngh.. S-so full," he groaned, his voice wanton and broken.
Alfred smirked. He loved it when Arthur was like this. Sweat made the paleness of Arthur's skin gleam, his voice was so needy, so slutty. Had they been face to face, then Alfred would be forever staring into those emerald eyes, glistening with lust, moist with unshed tears of pleasure. "You like feeling full, dont'cha Arthur?" He braced his hands on the bed-frame, withdrew at an achingly slow pace, before violently snapping his hips forward. Arthur let out a shrill cry that ending in a grunted groan.
"M-more," begged Arthur, his eyes shut tight at the pleasure. It was almost animalistic, the way Alfred was pounding into him at a harsh, fast pace. Every thrust hit his pleasure spot like a bull's eye and Arthur bit into the pillow to stop himself from screaming like he wanted too. The jingle of Alfred's dog-tags and the creaking of the bed filled the room, accompanied by moans, panting and the occasional cry. Arthur couldn't help the whimper and keening that spilled from his mouth when Alfred bit onto his ear. He could feel the larger man's hot, ragged breath against his ear.
"Who do you belong to?" asked Alfred, his voice rasping, full of restraint, and yet so firm. "Who?" he repeated, never wavering in his thrusts.
Arthur could feel his orgasm coming on but it was too soon. He moaned before whispering a "No one."
Immediately Alfred stopped, his cock half way in that tight hole. Arthur let out a sobbing, shuddering breath, trying to thrust his ass up against Alfred, to have that sweet, sweet cock filling him up again. "A-Alfred!" he pleaded.
"What. Did .You. Just. Say?" Alfred knew that Arthur was toying with him, baiting him and challenging him. But the angry beast of jealously within him clawed viscously at his insides. He wanted to claim Arthur, place so many marks on his body that anyone and everyone knew that he was taken. That he was spoiled for any other, that he was owned by another. Using all the self-control he had (and he had so little of it) Alfred pulled out till only the head of his cock was within Arthur.
"I... belong... to no one!" gasped out Arthur. He was cheeky enough to give a coy, arrogant smirk before reaching down to fondle himself, but Alfred gripped at his hands, trapping them at the sides of his head so that he could find himself no relief. This was the power play between them that would always lead to Alfred being victorious, but that didn't mean Arthur couldn't try. There was a moment's paused where Arthur struggled to free himself. The frustration gathered up inside of him and he let out annoyed grunts and moans. "Alfred!"
"What is it babe?" sweat ran down Alfred's cheek and off his chin, where it dripped onto Arthur's smooth back. God this was hard, but if Arthur wanted to play, then Alfred would play. "Hmn?"
"M-move!" commanded the smaller male. Even trapped the way he was, he expected obedience. How cute.
"Who do you belong to?" asked Alfred again as he bit down on Arthur's neck, drawing blood and a yelp. "Who?"
"Fi-Fine!" gasped Arthur, the flash of pain tilting the scales. In this game, Alfred always won, always. "I-I belong t-to you!" he gasped, almost yelling out. He was rewarded greatly when Alfred resumed his pounding. Saliva ran down his chin, his moans spilling forth like a river and the hands that gripped his own tightened to a bruising pressure.
"Best not to forgot that, Sweetheart." Alfred grunted as he picked up his pace. His thrusts became erratic, showing how close he was to climaxing. He licked the blood off Arthur's neck; it tasted metallic and, somehow, of Arthur as well. "Mine," he whispered possessively, "All mine."
"Hgnh… Hgnh! Yes!" cried out Arthur, "Ahn!" His stomach coiled and white light flashed before his eyes as he came. Letting out a cry that rivaled a banshee, he spilled his seed onto the expensive sheets before slumping down, his limbs feeling boneless. Alfred held onto his hips, pounding into him a couple more times before releasing into him with a feral growl. Arthur whimpered when he felt slick seed filling up his insides, the milky substance leaking out of him when Alfred withdrew.
Alfred pulled the smaller male into his embrace, both of them panting heavily after their love making, trying to catch their breath. It was Arthur that spoke first, hissing slightly as he moved, causing the bite mark on his neck to throb. "You animal," he said as he sat up to inspect the wound, his lower half aching pleasantly.
"Sweetie, if you poke a bear, you gotta expect to lose a limb." There was no regret in Alfred's words, not an ounce of guilt. "Why do you do stuff like that? You know how possessive I am."
Arthur bent down to kiss Alfred's brow. "You're so fun to tease, that's why. I can't help it Dear. It's... Cute."
"Yeah yeah, whatever." Alfred grumbled in a sulking manner. He was a big macho male, far from cute! If anything, it was Arthur that was cute. With his smaller frame, lean body and huge doe eyes. Alfred slipped out of bed and stretched as he yawned. "Ready for another day Babe?"
"Hardly." muttered Arthur as he slipped back under the bed covers, hiding his face with a pillow to escape the morning sun.
"Take a catnap then, I'll shower first." Alfred kissed Arthur's head, ruffling those silky strands, before he walked towards the bathroom that was attached to their suite. "You sure you don't want to join me?"
Arthur rolled his eyes and didn't reply.
"What do you feel like eating?" asked Arthur as he straightened his skinny black tie in front of the full length mirror. Already he was wearing his white, long sleeved shirt and black trousers, the fabric pressed to perfection. His slim hips were accentuated by the black and gray vest that he wore. His black jacket was neatly perched upon a wooden chair.
The two lovers had stayed in their suite till evening, ordering room service and cherishing each other's company. Mostly, Arthur had read one of his books whilst Alfred had read the daily newspaper.
"I could kill for some apple pie right now." Alfred appeared from the bathroom, having used the mirror in there. He tried to straighten his royal blue tie, but his attempt ended in a growl of frustration. Like Arthur, he too was wearing a white shirt and black trousers. Only instead of a vest he was wearing cross suspenders. Gun holsters rested across his shoulders, making them look broader than they already were. Unlike Arthur who had left his hair in the choppy mess that it was, Alfred had slicked back his honeyed locks. It made his face look more mature, emphasizing the shockingly blue hue of his eyes and the sharpness of his masculine jawline.
"Tsk, tsk. Proper food first, then dessert," chided Arthur as he picked up the blue tie and began to properly do it up. Many years of mundane boarding school and a university education ensured that he would never fail when it came to the art of being a gentleman.
"Sweetheart, I still don't know what the fuck you're on about when you say 'proper' food. You eat it and then digest it. End of story. What does it matter if the order's sweet and then salty, or the other way around?" Alfred's Texan drawl, smooth and deep, garnished his words as he spoke.
"Because, that's the way it works!" Arthur's accent was British, refined and tasteful and so much more controlled than the accents spoken in the country of the wild and free, America.
"Foolish Brit," said Alfred under his breath, but it sounded more like an endearment than an insult.
"Crass and stupid American." retorted Arthur with just as much affection. He straightened the tie one more time before putting on his jacket and the fedora that was resting on the nightstand. He picked up his leather suitcase. 'Ready to go?'
"One sec." Alfred slipped on his own jacket and pulled out a cigar from his pockets, lighting it up with a zippo lighter that Arthur had given him. Engraved where the words: 'Together Forever... Unfortunately. Love, A.' The 'unfortunately' part was a joke used to hide the deep love that came with the message, but Alfred knew better.
Arthur took out his own packet of cigarettes, but rather than lighting his own up he walked to Alfred, and with the cigarette stick still in his mouth, he touched his end to Alfred's cigar, using the flame to ignite his own. Not once had Arthur resorted to using a proper flame to light his own smokes. He always had Alfred, so why bother?
"I'm good now," said Alfred through his cigarette and he opened the door, letting Arthur walk out first before he did so himself.
The diner was practically empty at this time. Many people had already returned home to their loving families. The streets were empty and the darkness of the night was beginning to seep in, consuming the evening sun. The only people left in the diner were the workers, the travelers and the lonesome fools who did nothing but sip coffee, kept company by their own loneliness and misery.
Alfred has listened to Arthur and had eaten a pot-roast before moving on to what he actually wanted: The 'all glorious, American apple pie'. The pretty waitress had set the dessert down along with a serve of custard, whipped cream and vanilla ice-cream. Alfred couldn't help but grin. Life was so wonderful.
Arthur allowed himself a small smile when he saw how childish Alfred looked. "Doesn't it feel better when you eat dessert AFTER a proper meal? Feels like a reward." Arthur took a sip of his Earl Grey tea. He had never been one for desserts. Alfred was the only sweet thing for him.
"It's not as if you're suffering by eating desert before a main. Thankfully I'm not eating anything English, you know?' said Alfred snidely and with too much cheek in his voice.
Arthur flushed a hot pink and spluttered. "My dear sir! I'll have you know English cuisine is an acquired taste."
Alfred just grasped onto his stomach, banging on the dinning table as he howled in laughter.
Arthur glared daggers at the Texan before an idea popped into his head. Plucking away Alfred's fork, Arthur took the tip off the slice of pie and popped it in his mouth, chewing triumphantly as he watched Alfred suddenly stop laughing, his expression crestfallen.
"Artie, babe. I love you and all... But that was too far. You crossed a line."
"Oh man up, Alfred. I just took a piece." Arthur handed back the fork and Alfred took it back with a frown.
"Not just a piece, the tip! That's the best part of the pie."
"Oh? I thought the crust was?"
"It is! And so is the filling...You know what? Just stay away from my pie."
"I think I'll stay away from your food all together."
"You know what? That's even better." Alfred began to eat his pie at a shockingly rapid pace, as if he was scared that Arthur would try to steal another bite. Once he was done, he ordered another slice with all the sides. He grinned like a content and happy child, cream stuck to the side of his mouth. "Love youuuu."
Arthur rolled his eyes and threw a napkin at his lover. "I know you do. It's how much you love me that I worry 'bout." He meant it as a joke, but Alfred froze and suddenly looked up, his eyes filled with alarm. "Hmng?!" he tried to voice his words though a mouthful of pie.
"It was a joke, Love. Do you love me or food more?"
"…Can't I just smother you in desserts and eat you up till there's nothing left?" Alfred asked sincerely once he managed to swallow his food.
Arthur just laughed. "You glutton."
Halfway through his third slice of pie, Alfred wasn't looking too good. His gelled back hair had fallen out of place, creating a sexy and rugged effect, but he was slightly off color, looking rather nauseous. "Babe," he groaned, "I don't feel too swell." By now they were the only couple in the diner, as well as one lonesome old fool and a sweet waitress.
Arthur snorted. 'Then stop eating that pie, it's what's making you sick. Really now, your third piece?'
"It's bad to waste food", Alfred groaned again and ate more of the pie. "If I didn't eat that pot-roast then I wouldn't be having this problem."
"No, If you hadn't ordered that third slice then you wouldn't be having this problem." Arthur took the briefcase that was standing by his leg and set it on the dining table. "If you feel that unwell, shall we skip?"
"Nah… Hey, sweetheart?" Alfred pushed what was left of the dessert away and pressed his face onto the table and groaned. "I love you, you can have some of my pie."
Arthur rolled his eyes and opened the briefcase. Within it was what seemed to be a lot of books. "No thank you." He flipped open the covers, and within the books were two revolvers. "Lesson learnt this time, okay? No more thirds." Arthur smiled, a cruel glint entering his eyes before he took a gun in each hand, stood up, and fired two rounds into the air.
It happened in just a split second: the one loner heard the gunshots, saw the gun, saw Arthur, and ran for the door, only he didn't make it. 3 rounds entered his back, hitting his shoulder blade, his lower back and his legs. He let out a pig-like squeal and was dead before he hit the floor. A fountain of blood poured from his wounds and splattered upon the mundane cream walls of the diner.
Alfred smiled proudly and propped himself on his elbows. Arthur used to be such a lousy shot, but after a couple of lessons, the Brit was now shooting like a natural. The Texan couldn't help but admire his lover in the midst of his blood-lust. Arthur's green eyes, although vibrant on a normal basis, shone with a sickening pleasure that just lit up those amazing orbs like the fourth of July. That smile, so sinister, so sweet. He was happiest when he was killing, happiest when feeding off the fear of others, having them at his total mercy. Alfred loved Arthur, so as long as Arthur was happy, he didn't really care about what happened. Heck, if Arthur wanted to kill then Alfred would just say "who."
In a fluid movement, Arthur sat on the dinning counter near the cash register. His posture was perfect, one leg crossed over the other with his back straight and shoulders up, looking confident and at ease. With one hand, he held the gun to the waitress' head, the other to the kitchen door. A split second later, the chef slammed open the door to see the commotion, only to have a bullet enter his head. The look of shock and horror on his face was quite... Amusing. Blood bled from his head wound and soaked the pristine white of his shirt; the chef now looked like a butcher.
"Oh sweet Jesus, please to God…" whimpered the waitress, the fear evident in her eyes. She was shaking violently, her legs barely able to keep her up. "Please…"
"Be a good dear and fill the sack with cash.' asked Arthur pleasantly, as if inquiring about the weather, gun still pointed to the waitress' face.
"Y-yes O-of c-c-course", she stuttered with a whimper as shaky hands opened the cash register, pulling out wads of money. "Please," she uttered, "Please don't kill me", she begged. By now, tears ran down her face in a horrible, unrefined mess. "I have children, please. Oh god, please don't." the begging became more incoherent as the money in the cash register became empty.
"Come now poppet, stop your weeping. It's unbecoming of you," said Arthur with those gentle eyes, in that gentle smile, speaking in that gentle voice.
The flare of jealousy that ripped at Alfred's heart made him clench his fists. He hid his jealousy behind a veil of indifference. Taking out a cigar from his pocket, he lit it up using the zippo. "Babe, remember the golden rule." He called out absentmindedly, looking out the window.
Arthur glanced back at Alfred and noticed that the Texan was sulking. The Brit couldn't help the tender smile that crept onto his lips. Really now, Alfred could be such a child sometimes. "I know, Darling," Arthur drawled, catching Alfred's attention. When Alfred turned back around and blue eyes met green, Arthur pulled the trigger. He didn't even look back to watch as the waitress fell to the floor. Instead, he picked up the bag of cash and walked over to Alfred, kissing the larger male on the side of his lips. "No survivors, yes?"
Alfred's azure eyes sparkled, "Yup! That's my sweetheart!" he said proudly before standing up and taking Arthur's hands in his. "Come on now babe, time to skedaddle."
Holding hands, the two males stepped over the corpse of the cook and entered the kitchen, flicking on the gas and lighting the stove a few meters away. With that, they ran off at a break neck speed, outside the dinner and into the sleek black car that was parked nearby. They drove off, leaving the town behind and-
BOOM!
Perched on the edge of his seat, Arthur watched with amazement in his eyes as a loud explosion rang throughout the area, shattering the night sky and making the shine of the stars pale in comparison. He settled back into his seat and laughed, wild and carefree. "That was bloody brilliant!"
"Won't be the last," said Alfred with an indulgent smile.
"Yes. Indeed." Arthur smiled back. Even though Alfred was a morning person, he looked dashing under the night sky. His azure eyes shone like the many stars overhead. The moon made the honey of his hair shine a cool, deep hue. The wind had whipped against his face, ruining his hair, but the messiness only enhanced his charm. A stubborn flick of hair stood up against his head, and as always, Arthur wanted to tug at it.
His heart swelled at the perfection before him and love flowed through his veins, replacing the adrenalin of his blood-lust from before. Arthur sighed happily and looked up at the stars. "I love the night sky, reminds me of another world."
"I prefer the morning, when everything seems as if it's gonna be fuckin' perfect. All that sunny glow, best time ever for ice cream." Alfred kept his eyes on the road, but his free hand searched for Arthur's, and once again their fingers entwined within each other.
Arthur couldn't help but notice the contrast. His hands were slimmer and more pale. Alfred's hands, however, were tanned, roughened with calluses earned from hard labor. And yet, they fit together so perfectly. "Morning is terrible, how bothersome to wake up to such brutal light. Also, is there ever not a good time for ice cream when it comes to you?"
"That's true." Alfred chuckled and squeezed Arthur's hand. "As if the night's any better. I can't see jack, even with all the twinkly stars. The more light, the better. You can see more."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You have an obsession with sight."
Alfred shrugged the comment off, but Arthur noticed that his posture had stiffened ever so slightly, his words strained and thick with hidden emotion.
"Let's do it this way then, shall we? You're a morning person, an early bird. I'm a night person, a night owl. Shall we meet in the middle?"
Alfred laughed, the tension gone from his frame. "Morning or Evening?"
"Evening of course."
"Evening it is then!" exclaimed Alfred, and the two lovers laughed joyously. "Artie Babe." The Texan's tone turned soft, his drawl barely evident but still there. It made his words smooth, like a sweet whiskey. "It doesn't matter if there is no beginning, it doesn't mean jack to me if the ending is unclear. As long as you're in the middle, in the present, with me, then nothing else matters."
