Chapter Two: Life Starts Now
"Hey Arthur
It's Al. I was looking at a box of tea today...and I thought of you because it was bitter but it smelled real nice if you take it slow. So. Uh, we haven't seen each other in a while and I wondered if you wanted to go out today maybe if you had time and if you wanted to and everything is OK. So Uh, if you can, give me a call, and we'll figure something out cuz I'm free this week. K. That's all...
Yours,
Alfred"
Alfred leaned back from the screen, staring at it. It wasn't good enough. He'd crossed out sincerely, love, like, your friend- it all just didn't sound right or was just too weird, so he sent that. That short, pathetic paragraph, seemingly simple, had taken the man half an hour. And so...before he regretted it and delete this one too, he braved it and clicked 'send'.
"My Dear Alfred,
Firstly, may I point out to you that I take offense to you finding a box of tea that is, quote, 'bitter' and thinking of me is in fact an insult and I will take it as thus.
Secondly, I don't know if you have seen a map recently, but I happen to be on the other side of an ocean. Of which takes eight hours, or more, to cross via flight. So I believe that going out 'today' might be somewhat an impossibility unless you have already set off.
Thirdly, no. I will not give you a call. We both have e-mail, and are capable of using it. Also, yes, I am free this week as well - you must know, because this is my annual break. I don't suppose you deliberately timed yours along with mine, did you?
Yours too, I suppose,
Arthur. UK of GB and NI."
Alfred got this a few hours later after avidly staring at his inbox for what seemed like an eternity. He winced a bit- it seemed like his clever analogies hadn't gone right, and Arthur was no less soft than he had been before...before...
It took a long while before he could reply to that, and in the end he gave up and called, nervous for once. Dialing...ringing...
The other side picked up none-too-immediately with a click and a crackle. A sigh was heard even before the transceiver was placed against the other person's ear. "Alfred," Arthur queried without even needing to check who had called. "I believe the e-mail said that the internet was a perfectly valid form of communication if you wished to arrange something. Moreover, do you know what time it is?"
That was definitely not a very welcoming greeting. Alfred pressed the receiver to his ear, bit his lip, looking out the window. "I just wanted to hear your voice, Artie. What time is it?"
"What time is it?" Arthur grumbled, and glanced to the side of him. He was still tucked away in bed, shrouded by darkness still. The angry red letters of his alarm clock stung his eyes. "Alfred—It's six fucking o'clock in the morning! What are you even doing up at one in the morning anyway? Shouldn't you have gone to bed—Or were you waiting for my reply?"
Oh. Right.
There was a time difference, and now he'd disturbed Arthur's precious beauty sleep. It was like around him, Alfred could never do anything right. "I'm real sorry." A quiet bit. "I was kind of...Uh..." Staring hopefully at a blank screen- "-playing minecraft. I'll go now."
Hearing the stammering in Alfred's voice, Arthur gave a distinct roll of his eyes and sat up so his back was pushed heavily into his pillows. "No, no. If you called me then there obviously has to be a reason for it. I look forward to discovering it," Arthur said. His voice was deeper than usual, groggy from waking.
Alfred could tell he was still in bed. How much he wished he were there with him. Or maybe not, since Arthur sounded so very annoyed at him for calling, or emailing for that fact. Could it be the man regretted what they had done?
The thought had occurred to Al many times, really. But now it seemed so apparent- he was angry, it was over. A sense of doubt crept over him. "Never mind. I was just... never mind. Go back to sleep, Arthur. I'm sorry."
"No! No, look... Alfred..." Arthur shuffled about in his bed, slinking back down till the sheets surrounded him just like arms swallowing him up whole avertedly, he knew whose he would rather be in. The apathetic tone Alfred was using made him want to just smack it straight out of his throat. "I was just miffed at the time. What is it? I want to know. Please."
Silence on the line, bated breath. Alfred cleared his throat, ran fingers through his golden hair. "I was wondering if you wanted to meet soon. Before the next annual party. And...and...just us. I was wondering. If you wanted or had the time, but if you wanted to… sleep in, it's fine too."
Contrary to Alfred's worries and suspicions, the Englishman on the other side of the ocean found a smile passing over his lips. He clutched the phone closer to his ear, sucking in a slow breath. This was what he had been waiting for, wasn't it? "...Yes." He begun. "Yes, I would love to."
He said yes. Almost after Alfred was going to scream "JK" into the phone from nervousness, but he said yes. A small smile came to his lips. "I'm thinking later today for you. You came here last time, and I thought it'd be alright if I go over?"
"...Here, to England?" Arthur asked for confirmation in disbelief, bolting upright. If he could help it, Alfred never wanted to retreat away to England. The Brit was oddly sure that Alfred thought of it as a lesser place, with that special mind of his. His stomach somehow was beginning to boil with anxiety. Where exactly was he supposed to take Alfred without him getting bored out of his life? His attention span was nil. "W-Well, I do not think I could say 'no'..."
"You can if you want," Alfred backtracked. He had just tried to think for Arthur too, for once. "I thought it'd be nice if, you know, I found out about your life too. How you are, your best places." Suggestions. That was all. He had never thought of forcing him into a decision.
"...There... There's not really much here..." Arthur murmured almost uncharacteristically timidly into the phone. "I mean, we have the Thames. There's Hyde park... the Eye, the Gherkin, erm. Tower bridge, Trafalgar square... See? Places you would not really be interested in."
Alright, so they sounded a bit boring and uncool. But all the same... "No, no, I've never heard of it but I'll bet it's amazing...it... if you show me around and stuff...we could.." The things he did for love. And...
Well, it was love. For those last four months, there was not one day that he hadn't thought of that green eyed angel of his. Amazing. His voice, his touch- his anger even. A warm feeling spread over him.
"Alfred. I am not stupid. I know you far, far too well. You will pretend to be interested for half the day while I go off on one trying to explain to you what is going on, or what the worth of the place is. Then you'll end up so bored that you will fall asleep on the tube back, and I'll get pissy with you, because you just won't stop it!" Arthur explained in depth, before pinching the bridge of his nose. It was going to be such an effort.
"Look, it's our first time seeing each other after we..." He trailed off, letting himself remember what it felt like to have Alfred so close to him that it practically burnt - scalded by the heat between them. "...I don't want you to wish you were not here, with me."
And after such an exclamation, Alfred could only agree, nodding, then quickly murmuring consent into the phone. Consideration of equality- x that out!
"I'd always want to be with you." A moment of honesty. "But some places can be kind of boring to me...so where should we go? Would you like to come over?" See his lands, his house, his bed.
"Look, Alfred, um. For the sake of... of going out without either you being bored out of your jolly mind, or me going insane over where in heck I am taking you..." Arthur started, tracing random figures of eights in the unoccupied space in bed sheets next to him. "Maybe you should just come back here and... and we'll figure something out. We'll probably just stay in."
"That'd be great. Doing anything with you would be fun to me, haha...ha..." His laughter faded a bit once he realized just how lame that sounded. Badly rehearsed movie lines. "I'll be over as soon as I can. Is that okay with you? Should I bring anything?"
"Depends," Arthur responded, running his fingers over the other set of pillows that he never used. "How long are you playing on staying for?"
A thought, and a slightly playful "How long do you think you can stand me?" Of course, he was only free about a week or so, before work would once again eat up his life. But for then...there was nothing else he'd rather do than stay with Arthur.
"...Bring overnight things." Arthur instructed, taking the time to consider what else there is to take along from the other continent to across the sea. "Times a-plenty."
Which meant, basically, that there was a great amount of time for them to use. Alfred doodled and made a checklist of items, thinking all the while. "...should I bring a sleeping bag?" It came out a lot calmer than he'd expected it to, really.
Arthur instinctively let out a laugh, before shaking his head. Remembering that Alfred could not see it, he answered. "No. No, you silly thing." He said. "I'm sure that I will find you... somewhere to sleep."
It could mean that he was fated to a night of living in a locked up storage room, he supposed. But then again, who knew? Maybe he'd be able to get by the Brit's bedside. "Alright then, I'll bring a flashlight, just in case. So, um...would that be all, for now?"
"It would." Arthur responded shortly, rubbing his eyelids. If he did not manage to get back to sleep after this, he was going to personally castrate Alfred with his fingers. Well. Perhaps not. Alfred had a lovely voice when it was deep and he did not want to have that spoilt, no matter how tired and grumpy he was. "Unless you want to bring anything else."
"Oh, I can figure that out myself. Thanks! Uhm. Maybe you should get back to sleep now." He sounded tired. Alfred wondered- what would Arthur look like first thing in the morning? His eyes all droopy and his hair all messed up- adorable. If he was lucky... "Thanks. Sorry for disturbing you. Uhm...love you! Bye." He hung up.
The Brit stared into the crisp air in shock, losing himself as Alfred despondently ended the call with a high note. Arthur shivered, overjoyed in hearing it. The pillock - he did not give him the chance to pant it out in return. Raising the phone to his lips, he gently pecked a kiss onto the receiver - as if he believed it would reach through to the other continent and reassure him. "...Love you too, you idiot..."
High afternoon in England, and morning for DC. Alfred had raced against the sun- his hair was wildly windblown, the straw-coloured, sun-soaked strands swept and in disarray, Nantucket proudly standing up. His face showed not a bit of how little he slept- rapt with attention and eagerness, impatience almost, a beaming smile gracing his lips, blue eyes alert and bright.
And anxious. He still wasn't sure how well this visit would go, of course- on the way over in the jet, he'd thought it over and over. What he should do, and say- how Arthur would react, and in the end it had disturbed his conscience so much that he gave up on it and was determined to act upon impulse.
And now, with that small, crumpled address in hand, he rode on in that Taxi- man, did he feel stupid. He'd gotten the currency wrong, of course, and then- then- well, he was carrying a suitcase, he was wearing nice clothing for once- a thin, green grey dress shirt, ironed dark pants and polished, yes polished black shoes. Dressed to impress, you'd say, and that's just what Alfred wanted to do.
He wanted to impress his Englishman, make him accept, approve, anticipate- it was astonishing, just a year ago this was all a dream, they'd be fighting, this would never happen, and with one angry, furious kiss- which had led to so much more- they had become-
Well. Alfred wasn't sure yet what to call the relationship he shared with Arthur. Special. A very Special Relationship they had, really, almost dysfunctional. They walked a very fragile line, they had known it all this time-
The taxi stopped, and Alfred got out, having paid earlier for such a long drive. Yes, an hour long drive. The Kirkland residence lay in front of him and he half shyly ran a hand through wind-tousled locks, and took his suitcase in hand. Ready. A small rolling of his eyes.
When had Alfred F Jones become shy? Nervous? This was hardly him, and it's true. Alfred lost himself around Arthur. Stepping up the staircase, reaching that one door he'd seen in too many dreams, he knocked, cleared his throat, and waited.
The front door was creaked open slowly after a brief wait, extended outwards in welcoming for the American into Arthur's humble abode; or at least it would have been, if Arthur did not lodge himself in the way so stop the other man from passing. He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Alfred for some, currently unknown reason. "Evening," He greeted.
Was it really evening here? Even twilight? Alfred gave a small, winning smile, tilting his head a bit to the side, and brandished a small, slightly crumpled and wilted pink flower. "Evenin', Artie! I, Uh, brought you a flower." Tell the truth, it used to be a bouquet. But he'd accidentally sat on them at some point…
Arthur peered at the, well. It was a flower. A single, kind of crumpled flower. Alfred was doing just brilliantly today, wasn't he? He sucked in a stern breath and took it from the other's hands, examining it closely. If it were not bent somehow in the middle, he would have been flattered by it. Perhaps that reflected their relationship too well.
"...I have had worse beginnings for dates." He muttered under his breath, tutting as if he was amused by it. At that point, a loud beeping noise sounded from behind Arthur like a siren. The exasperation was clear on his face. "Oh fucking...!" He growled, turning to delve back inside his house.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Alfred took this opportunity to run into the house, carefully deposit his shoes, and mismatched socks, at the door. "Arthur? Are you okay?" It sounded like their first date was about to be ruined. And it also seemed like it was all his fault.
Further investigation into the quaint little house found Alfred at a doorway. He peered in. "Arthur?"
Turns out, 'into the fire' was a little more accurate that Alfred would have first suspected. Inside Arthur's house, more specifically his kitchen, was a billowing of steam/smoke; certainly enough to set off the fire alarm attached to Arthur's house. At that moment Arthur was somewhere within the smog, no doubt turning off whatever was burning. He grabbed a tea towel and re-appeared, waving it in the air beneath the fire alarm to try stop the deafening thing from beeping.
Aside from the frantic coughing, Alfred had begun laughing. Seeing his skinny little Englishman brandish a towel against the forces of smoke and bad cooking was adorably hilarious. Swirls and smoke and clouds and all sorts of nasty, unhealthy fumes rose into the air, and Alfred quickly flicked on the ceiling fan to dissipate the horrible air. "Oh, Arthur-" Still grinning, all nerves gone. "-were you trying to cook again?"
"D-Don't you bleeding start!" Arthur snapped at him, clearly under a lot of stress after he finally managed to get the fire alarm to stop chiming. He groaned loudly and tossed the tea towel inside the smoky nether and quickly stormed past Alfred and into the living room. There, he found one of the cushions - sat - and collapsed himself into it. Why the hell was everything going wrong?
Across from that chair, Alfred had dropped his suitcase and was now striding into the kitchen- wrinkling his nose a bit, mind, that was real nasty- and looking for the sink. Above it, the man quickly reached for the window and flipped it open, letting calming fresh air sweep in and take its stormy neighbor out. And it revealed the burning mass of...thing.
Really, Alfred couldn't tell for his life or love what that was. So he swept back out to his love.
"Arthur?" The smaller man was still in that chair of his.
Arthur had been trying to be sweet, in reality. There had not been just one burnt mess, but two. Since it was so late, he was trying to make them a meal to share so they did not have to go to a restaurant and could therefore stay to themselves. He tried to make it work, he really did, but then Alfred came to the door... collapse, burn, set alight.
As Alfred reached him, Arthur sunk his face further down into his cushion, clinging it to his chest. He gave a small, insignificant noise to acknowledge Alfred's presence.
Said man laid a hand on the Englishman's head. He was smiling. "Hey. Don't be like that...I was only joking. Arthur? Arthur..." Alfred bent til he could look up at Arthur slightly, tilting his head, reaching out.
"I was trying to make it nice for us. I really, really tried." Arthur responded, groaning into the cushion. He squeezed it a little tighter and finally re-surfaced his face, following Alfred's urging. "How come when I try do something for myself, us, everything goes wrong?"
Oh, so that was it. His sweet little Arthur had tried to cook for them, and that thought alone made Alfred's all American heart soften, and when that helpless looking face came up, with that confession of kindness?
The American laid a hand on the Briton's shoulder. "I think it went perfectly. That was very nice of you, darlin', I appreciate it. Next time, how about we cook something together, huh? I can tell you tried. It's okay, Arthur."
Arthur frowned, but placed a hand over the one resting on his shoulder, squeezing the digits comfortingly underneath. "I... I can cook. Just, not when I get distracted or worried. Like when people come around..." He stumbled in explaining, before giving a hefty sigh.
Warm lips settled against the side of his cheek, lingering before Alfred pulled back. No, for once, he didn't mention that people always came around or that his cooking had always been perfectly dreadful. "Of course you can. I'm sorry to have worried ya." Humouring him.
"You don't believe me." Arthur scowled deeply, threatening to pull away. Something must have snapped in him, however, causing the Brit to curse and toss the cushion on the seat next to him before wrapping his arms around Alfred instead. "Fucking hell..."
And Alfred accepted the bundle of stress and emotion into his arms, feeling the comforting warmth at his shoulder, against his heart- perfect. He gently rubbed Arthur's back, turning slightly to nuzzle at his ear, his cheek, his hair. "Relax, Arthur...is this because you didn't sleep enough?"
"No," Arthur responded almost immediately, arching into the other man. He would not confess, but holding Alfred like this was what raised his heart beat the most. The closeness got to him. "I just wanted this to go well."
"Sweetheart," A loving murmur at his ear, an adoring light in those sky blues- "It didn't go well, it went perfect. I was all nervous before the whole smoke thing. And now, I just want to hold you."
Alfred was truly enchanted with his little pixie-like love, warm, in his hold.
"Alfred," Arthur breathed, before looking up at his potential significant other face-to-face; losing himself to the tropical ocean blue eyes. After a stunned moment of consideration, he cupped Alfred's cheek in his hand and swooped in, gently capturing opposite lips.
Sparks. It felt amazingly nice having their lips against each other, occasionally tilting to perfect the angle of it. All innocent for now, chaste brushes- Alfred's arms circled around that slender waist, pulled Arthur close to him, it did feel so nice...
A few moments before they had to break apart- simultaneously- for air. And as they gasped it in, Alfred's eyes were just caught.
"May I... make a confession?" Arthur asked quietly as he recovered. His arms swung over his shoulders and closed in around Alfred's neck, keeping them pinned together. A slight, wavering smile met his lips. "I might have missed you. This. ...J-Just a little bit!"
And that was his way of saying, yes- he had longed for all this during the months they'd been apart as well, and though a little surprised (Arthur had started it, for once), Alfred was pleased. "Well. Then I've a confession to make, too." Another, shorter kiss to those bittersweet lips. "I've missed you like hell."
The arms slid down, hands smoothing over Alfred's torso before grabbing hold of the American's jacket tightly. He gave a shaky breath, still a little disturbed by the awful beginning, but gave a half-hearted noise of content. A bigger smile started to break out, and he kissed Alfred again. Since they drunkenly declared their love for each other, Alfred barely left his mind.
And likewise. It had been only hours before Alfred realized he was crazy in love and couldn't get that smile out of his head, those soft touches haunted his skin, and he loved it all. Craved to hear that smooth voice, that English accent. Slowly, Alfred ran the tip of his tongue around the crevice between his love's lips, easing them open slightly and slipping his tongue in, tasting, claiming.
Arthur's hands clenched even tighter, and he leant over to help Alfred with his access; opening his mouth and tilting his head to the side so Alfred could ravish his mouth with that tongue. He craved for this, strived for it. After they slept together, Arthur lost himself to remembering the ghost of what it had been like to have Alfred kiss him like this, be inside him, touching him. Finally the feelings were getting satisfied. Deepening the kiss further, Arthur tried to breathe through his nose to continue airflow; but it was so hard to do when all he wanted to concentrate on was this. Alfred's lips on his.
Under, Alfred's hands slid back, up his ribcage, to his arms, his shoulders, then back down to start pulling at Arthur's shirt, unbuttoning one or two buttons as a question of permission.
Arthur let go and pushed Alfred away, giving him a smouldering look. A look that was not, despite the action, denying. He batted Alfred's hands away and started to unbutton himself in quicker procession, sliding the shirt off of his naked shoulders once he was done. "...You were awful last time with the buttons." Arthur justified.
Which was, to Alfred, permission enough. His eyes drank up all the fair skin, the soft curves, just him, his hands wandered like an explorer. "All the things you could remember, and it's buttons?" A faintly amused smile.
"Strangely enough, poppet, I've remembered everything." Arthur smirked. He remembered how those rough, slightly calloused hands felt on his sensitive skin. Taking hold of them, he guided them up the side of his body till they were holding onto his rib-cage.
The hands glided over pale, tightly stretched skin, and seeing that smaller body all for him to view, to touch, to admire- sparks of lust. "Did you like what you remembered?"
Lips pressed up against the side of Arthur's neck, teasing brushes against the delicate skin, before suckling down at his collarbone, at the base of his throat- then boldly venturing up and leaving a small Mark just below his jawline.
"I did," Arthur panted simply into the air, gasping a few times in glee as Alfred sucked and touched his skin. Every little brush of his lips was escalated in Arthur's mind with hypersensitivity, mostly due to the fact that it was him. His romantic.
Arthur took Alfred's chin into his hand and lifted his head so they were looking eye to eye. The Briton stroked one precise line down from just on the jut of his cheekbone all the way till Alfred's shirt, which he hastily started to unbutton. Once the skin underneath was freed, the Englishman ran his palms smoothly over the taut, awaiting expanse. "Mind if I have a little bit of fun before you make love to me?" He requested, licking a very small portion of Alfred's neck.
Alfred gave out a very small shudder, feeling that small, wet muscle against his skin, every touch was electric as long as Arthur gave it. He really was obsessed that that man- "Not at all. I've waited this long- I can wait longer."
"Oh, if it's attention you are looking for, you won't have to wait at all." Arthur responded, pushing the American's jacket and unbuttoned shirt off of him and onto the floor. Smirking, he patted the expanse of the sofa. "Strip, sit your arse down, and spread them, sweetheart."
Alfred hummed lightly in agreement and Unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers (Why had he purchased new underwear just to visit Arthur's house again?). He gave the smaller man a lazy, at ease half grin before plopping down on that quaint sofa of his. "Sir, yes, sir?"
"Oh, please. Break out the 'sir' chant when I'm in uniform," Arthur said, snuffing a laugh. He climbed his way in-between Alfred's legs - spreading them wider than the American had bothered - and cut straight to the chase. He kissed his balls before kissing the underside of his dick too. "Mm, you know. It looks even bigger and more inviting from down at this angle." He cooed in praise.
A breathless pant escaped said American's lips- and he looked down with a certain admiration and total lust, his glasses slid down to the end of his nose, which he just pulled off and set aside. It turned everything blurry- but he focussed on the vivid green in those devious, beautiful glittering gems- Arthur most certainly looked more vulnerable from this angle as well.
"You know, I don't believe I've ever asked you. I assume those glasses are distance, so you must be short-sighted, yes?" Arthur queried, looking up to Alfred for an answer. He then disturbed the tactless American by engulfing the entire of the head in his hot, sopping wet heat. His tongue whirred around the slit, dipping in and licking the sour tasting but sensitive spot.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, they are, I can't- ohfucking-!" It ended in a long, drawn out groan as he felt the slick, burning heat receive him, and just sat back, eyes half lidded now, hands gripping the upholstery for support. Maybe it was just that he hadn't done anything, exactly, since they'd last met- maybe it was that Arthur was exceptionally talented with that mouth- but it felt amazing. His hips bucked upwards after a while, in attempt to make that hot little mouth take more of him in-
As another inch was forced into Arthur's mouth from Alfred's bucking, the Briton slid off of the length and peered up at his no-longer-impromptu lover. "Patience, love." He commanded. "I don't want to gag with your cock in my throat."
After sliding off, Arthur admired the layer of saliva around that throbbing length. He blew cold air at it, aiming to have Alfred simply collapse into pieces with nonchalant ecstasy; an excruciating and yet wonderful feeling. He then returned, giving his shaft a long, torturous lick, stemming from base straight up to the tip - all the while watching as Alfred restrained himself, green eyes lovingly and expertly clouded.
"Uuunh...f-fuck, that's fucking amazing..." The American did hold himself back, but the pleasurable shivers left him aching for more, after all, it was close to impossible luxury for a woman to give a blowjob, and here was Arthur generously giving such amazing care to that aching length of his... The shaft twitched slightly as he met those eyes again, and Alfred moaned, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in that incredible warmth and pleasure.
Arthur's hand closed around what he did not slot in his mouth once he plunged two or three inches in until it reached his throat. The fingers pumped slowly and caressed the skin there with slight, circular massages. Then Arthur moaned, sending vibrations through his mouth and straight to that hot rod pulsating in his mouth. He moaned as if having a cock push down on his tongue for access was the most enjoyable sensation in the word, flitting said tongue roughly over the underside after.
Little bursts of pre-cum erupted from the tip, white hot and slightly bitter- and Alfred about lost in, murmuring Arthur's beloved name over and over, a small chant, oh, those vibrations were so enjoyable; the American savoured that, feeling his love's talented fingers, the movements. "Arthur, oh God, stop...I'm gonna...Arthur..."
The taste of pre-cum was, admittedly, disgusting. But Arthur had grown accustomed to it now from his previous lovers. He would have sunk all the way down to the base till his nose was touching hair and let Alfred fuck his mouth for a while, but clearly he had underestimated how long it would take for the American to reach near to his climax. At the words, Arthur pumped the slickened length even faster and drew out to the tip. He gave it a hard suck, begging for his essence, and pulled off with a sticky pop and a gasp for air.
White drops splattered onto his skin. Alfred called out his name- ecstasy plain in his voice, having enjoyed himself much too much with Arthur's little bit of 'fun.' It really had been way too long. They really did have to see each other more often, or else Alfred's now raging hormones would start a revolution.
The blue eyes came down to normal after a while, and Alfred seized Arthur, pulling him up for a kiss.
The explosion from Alfred's cock splattered both inside Arthur's open mouth and out, spots on his chin, upper lip and cheek. He licked his lips and then swallowed, before using the back of his hand to wipe off the evidence.
Arthur's mouth had been cleared by now, though still tasted vaguely like a mix between his natural, salty sea, oak leaves and tea blend, and Alfred's own cum. He did not dawdle for long, pushing himself off and starting to shimmy off the trousers they had neglected to remove. They were beginning to get too tight to handle. "Give me a hand?"
One hand, two, whatever it was- Alfred leaned in and swiftly pulled down the pants, revealing the smooth, long legs Alfred had dreamed of and also a straining problem of Arthur's own. The American could sense the contained need, and dragged his knuckles over it before sliding the Briton's underwear down as well. "Did I do that?" Amusement.
"You also made yourself cum all over my face," Arthur pointed out with difficulty after his hardness was grazed, propping himself up with bent elbows. "I would not be surprised that you are able to make another man stand on end, if I were you."
"Oh, I don't doubt it." An irritating smirk, as Alfred pulled his flexible love into his lap, licking at his ear. "It's just that it's you." Let him take that how he wanted.
"And you, clearly, are even more to me than you think." Arthur told him, swooping in to claim those lips in a short but deep romantic kiss. When he pulled away, their lips were still slightly touching - breathing warming each other's skin. "I have lube in my bedroom drawer. Want to retire up there?"
Alfred had already been fully captured by those first words. At this point, he would have easily jumped off a building in adoration for the man. "Yeah," he breathed, and carefully stood so Arthur wouldn't fall to the ground. Arthur's bedroom- wasn't that the place of his dreams?
Taking Alfred's hand, Arthur begun to guide the American up and away towards his bedroom. They barely took their eyes off of each other as they scaled the stairs, almost colliding with intent and losing themselves right there - or at the very least, Arthur was feeling the force of his built arousal.
Once in his bedroom, Arthur pushed Alfred forwards into it and shut the door behind him. In contrast to the American's room, the Englishman's was not filled with the same atmosphere of pride. Rather, Arthur's room maintained a flawless grandeur that suited his character perfectly. The sheets were greenish gold, made of silk and featured embroidery of flowers and leaves, garnished atop his wide King-sized bed. The walls were decorated with the flags of his kingdom, as well as artistic trinkets from the nations he had conquered. It was not subtle, but it suited.
"You'll find the lube in the bottom drawer," He mentioned, pressing himself up against his door.
Alfred's hands slid down the milky shoulders, a few rare freckles dusting the fair skin. "Fun." His breath ghosted against his cheek before he backed away, set his gaze to the nightstand, opening the dark furniture, searching for the telltale tube of lubricant. He waved it back at Arthur.
Smiling, Arthur eyed the lube and then back to Alfred. It was newly brought, the American would probably notice. Brought today especially for the occasion of Alfred's visit - just in case they consummated again their allegiance to one another. He pressed further back against his door, rattling the frame a bit with a satisfying rumble. "Aren't you coming to get me?" He teased, stretching his arms up and elongating his slim form.
A shiver of need, as Alfred tossed the lubricant to the bed and rushed forward, seizing those curved hips in his hands, his soft lips with his own. Unconsciously, through the kiss, they managed to make it to the bed.
Blue eyes looked down, love, lust, utter obsession, as the American pressed his boyfriend as of now down to the bed. All hesitation or doubts were lost, pure, unadulterated feeling and emotion coursed together through their veins as if electrified; Alfred's eyes scorched with heat as he took in that long, pale form, every inch precious and perfect-
"Alfred," A single, wispy but delightful voice broke his thoughts and murmured through the air, making Arthur realise that this was exactly what he was looking for. He would handle the upsets and the arguments later. For now, he allowed Alfred to be his everything. He made sure Alfred was watching before slowly extending his legs apart, spreading them to accommodate his boyfriend.
"Come make love to me, already." He badgered, though not too insistently. More silently pleading, needing, happy to be his. Vice versa, as well, of course.
"I am making love to you." Alfred's eyes were all over him, and he let his hands follow, slowly, like they did in Hollywood romances. Except that was was real, this was naturally easy and enjoyable, he eased his lips down the White expanse of his delicate throat, lapping at the edge of his collarbone, admiring and adoring. "We're gonna take it slow."
"In other words, you are aiming to make me explode," Arthur complained, though still sighed shakily while Alfred's tongue pressed onto his most enjoyable, most sensitive spots. He let out a soft mumble in appreciation. "Such foreplay, Alfred... We're already hard, in case you have not noticed."
His American looked up at him. "I've noticed," came the dry remark, as the larger man kept abusing those spots, drawing them out full value and worshipping at the silky skin with his mouth, his fingertips. "But I enjoy making you explode." All the same, he reached for the lubricant, and gave Arthur a grin as he popped the cap open and squished some onto his fingers.
"I-If you are trying to make me orgasm before you put it in me...!" - at this rate, it would probably work. Arthur could not suppress his moans, even if he cupped his mouth to muffle the noise. Similarly he could not hold still, ankles bending as he pushed them in the air in glee while his collar was thoroughly ravished. He was so achingly hard by now, but Alfred was right. He did not want to rush Alfred making love to him. He closed his eyes, relaxed, and tried to think of less arousing things.
Not that Alfred wasn't hard himself. He just could not beat out the desires of making his boyfriend feel good, making him explode with love and all the pleasure he'll have ever felt. The American brought two slick fingers down, down, down, then, brushing against the closed, tightened entrance. "There, there."
"A-Alfred, please! You know I'm not a patient man!" Arthur cried out to him, squeezing his lids shut tightly and pressed his hips towards the marginally offending fingers. Did Alfred realise how good it felt to have friction and pressure applied there, to him? He hated that he wanted to beg.
But it seemed that Alfred loved it. Those fingers traced the opening, barely open at all, really, delicately- then, a fingertip slid in, just a bit, twisting, loosening up and applying delectable pressure to the sensitive sphincter muscles, easing the digit inside. "I know," the American cooed, pressing a kiss to the Englishman's knee.
"Yet you still try to take me slowly and deliberately like this," Arthur panted, spreading his legs even wider for his boyfriend. The probing digit made him stiffen, feeling the moist lubricant guide it inside. The concoction was colder than he expected, giving the Englishman shivers.
"I'm sorry, babe." The finger was pressed inside, slowly, and swallowed all the way in. Alfred felt the satisfaction of that build to the heat in his gut that just repeatedly sent hormones into his brain begging for pleasure and release. "I love seeing you break down, too." Maybe it was wrong of him, but he loved to see that slender body trembling, hear the desperate calls-
A second finger pressed up, and slowly went in the tight heat. Alfred hummed in appreciation.
Arthur's lips cracked accidentally into an appreciative smile when he was not concentrating; losing himself to the enjoyable but aching stretching feeling. At least Alfred was not going slowly, but it was still not fast enough for him. Even so, they were currently connected, and that knowledge felt brilliant. "...A-Al... A little more, a little more..."
And the fingers both drove in, then spread him open, scissoring wide and stretching that muscle, swiftly pushing in the third. Alfred stroked up inside of him, pushing against the walls, twisting inside and watching the frenzied expressions rapidly going across his lover's face. He licked his lips in anticipation, hardly able to stand it himself.
Fingertips clenched on the golden sheets, crumpling the silk. The twisting was equivalent to an automatic cue for Arthur to curl his legs around Alfred's hips. Underneath him, Arthur gazed up at his lover - barely able to keep his eyes open to watch him when the movement in his tight, swallowing muscles felt so good and so tightly squished in. He loved how taking Alfred's cock was such a struggle - he remembered each detail about it, especially the texture as it slid in the first time.
It hadn't been an easy task, and along with the burning pleasure- there wad an under-edge of pain. Because Alfred was big, naturally, and was naturally well endowed, and Arthur had a small frame, slender, and it made the difference. Alfred's fingers squelched out.
The larger man hissed as the lube made contact with his straining cock- tip bursting with pre-cum, already dark and flushed with blood as he slicked the lubricant around himself, and positioned himself carefully over his love, carefully as he could be with anything. This would be proper. Their first time to truly make love, and his eyes met Arthur's.
Seeing Alfred's eyes linger on him, Arthur cracked a smile for his sake, trying to reassure. They may have only had sex once before, but this was everything; right here, right now. He felt like how he did on his first ever time - slightly nervous, but strangely ready. Arthur cupped Alfred's cheek and placed a firm kiss on the above lips, before giving nothing more but a casual nod to display his consent.
Alfred slid in. It was a slow process- because the muscles immediately clamped down, and just tried to close back up. Inch by inch, slowly, Alfred made them whole again, a small noise of appreciation leaving his throat, watching his lover's expressions as he took him in for the second time.
"A...aah..." Arthur panted underneath him, struggling not to tense and make it harder for them as Alfred started inching his way inside. It both injured and fascinated him that their bodies only just fit together, though he knew he'd adjust to the American over time. They always found a way to tolerate each other, even now. The pain was as large as Alfred was, but he opened himself up in readiness for it. Once Alfred had managed to slide all the way into him, Arthur gave a breath of relief and tightened his grip at Alfred's hips.
The heat was nice. Shockwaves, shivers- all in good will, and Alfred dipped down to give his Arthur a small, rewarding kiss of encouragement, staying still and savouring the warmth inside until he felt Arthur contract just slightly- then loosen, just enough to move.
"Alfred, I can handle it," Arthur breathed, half-whisper and half-speech. He took both of his cheeks into his hands to pull him into one last, chaste, loving kiss to prove that he was dealing well as he could. The green eyes searching for expression and life above him were longing, and happy - an emotion that did not often reach the Brit. "I can handle you. Just... mm-m-move, please."
Alfred moved- sliding out until just the tip was still inside, then pushing back in entirely, breathing growing heavy in the small space between them. Little by little, the movements sped- the friction building and rubbing and taking over as the American crammed in and his lover took it with all the Determination and grace in the world. "You're fuckin' beautiful-" came the murmur, reverent, in bliss.
"No," Arthur said at the end of an inhaling breath, rocking his hips to accept Alfred's progressively faster and harder thrusts. Their bodies clashed together and pushed apart consecutively, slick but vulgar noises letting out between them from the incessant clap of lubricant. "No, I'm not. A-aah, love...!"
"You are-" A thrust deep inside, small breath of exhilaration. "You're the most precious- best-" Alfred had never been good with words, and in this case, words failed him. Maybe it was ironic: but to him, being with Arthur was like being liberated, making love to him was like that first breath of fresh, free air. He'd never dreamed in his short two centuries that so many emotions were possible, much less experience-able. "You're everything; you're mine..."
"Y-You say this... but what c-could you possibly love about me?" Arthur questioned before groaning in ecstasy at a particularly deep thrust, muscles clenching tightly around the cock embedded deep inside of him. The lubrication was certainly making their movements smoother than the last time they had sex. "...T-There's... n-nothing to like."
That self esteem of his. Feeling the pressure, the heat- Alfred let out a low moan, eyes fixed on that euphoric expression on Arthur's face as he was rammed into the bed. "Do you...you know how obsessed with you I am...? Mnnm...I love your every damn flaw, Arthur..." Breathless laughter, a hard thrust inside.
"Sounds like you a-are more foolish than... hah... than I thought. But I—Ah!" Whatever Arthur was about to say died in his throat and came out as a struggling whine after that thrust. Alfred had aimed well, ramming straight into his prostate at a very agreeable angle. Gurgling with pleasure, Arthur's back simply arched up into him, proudly eliciting his joy. "O-Oh! Yes, Alfred, yes! There, darling. Just right there...!"
Those noises were encouragement enough for his boyfriend to shift, keeping that angle, and pound directly into him. Alfred loved hearing his moans of want, loved it when he couldn't even speak properly with pleasure. "That's good, sweetheart...keep...keep it up.."
Arthur rode Alfred's movements, slowly getting driven closer and closer to a possible climax as the American cock slid in and out of him hotly; stretching his muscles and making him feel internally amazing. The stars in his eyes were nothing in comparison to Alfred's cerulean blues, so he tried to concentrate on those as the pleasure filled his vision, making him feel inadequately weak at the knees. "Alfred, just a little more. Give me more, darling, more. I-I'm almost..."
And the American pressed up against that spot he'd memorised and so loved to abuse, staying there before giving a last powerful thrust that shook the bed, sent shivers through his core.
The Englishman cried as he came, panting in forced huffs in desperation for air as white filled his vision - as well as splashing across their chests. His legs tightened significantly around Alfred's waist as he rode out his orgasm, shivering and shuddering as he succumbed to the pleasure Alfred gave him in their love-making session. Once finished he loosened, collapsing against his sheets.
A few more erratic, furious thrusts before hot liquid spilled into- and out of- the Englishman. The American groaned out his name, senses wild, satisfied beyond belief with how good they made each other feel, and he quickly rolled off before he accidentally suffocated his boyfriend. Heavy pants and catching of breath filled the air, and Al turned to look at the slender form. "How...was it?" A grin.
Arthur gasped as Alfred slipped his cock out of his body and rolled over, before doing so himself, so that he was draped across his lover with his head resting on the American's shoulder. He smiled, basking in the post-coital glory and rekindling the memory. "Bleedin' brilliant..." He admitted, unable to lie. "My hands are still trembling."
A chuckle came from the American. "I love it when you're like that. I love you." His ego was on full and he was bold with his declarations now, not afraid. an intense moment before Alfred melted a bit at his lover enclosed in his arms. "You're so damned hot. I love you to death."
"You might regret saying something like that," Arthur chuckled huskily. He squirmed till he was lying next to Alfred properly, trying not to wince from the ache in his hips. It was too late to save his silk sheets, that were ruined now by their combined cum staining their chests and his thighs as well. "But I love you too, Alfred."
Alfred in turn pressed his lips to his lover's sweat-stained locks, his forehead, then leaning down to his lips, blissfully aware of every feeling, every sense. "I won't regret it. Even if we...break apart. I'll always think this was a good memory. This is nice." The post-sex cuddling was one of his own guilty weaknesses.
"Fuck that, Alfred. We won't break apart. I won't let you," Arthur murmured to him, kissing again, too used to the American's lips that he was almost addicted. He shuffled about till he pulled the duvet from out underneath them to flop casually on top, swallowing them in warmth and comfort. "I'll make this an every-day occurrence."
"Then you're right, I definitely can't stay away," came the amused whisper of the American, whose arm was currently around him, pulling him near til they lay flush against one another. "You should be worrying about how you're going to get me to go away."
"I'll worry about that when I go absolutely batty with insanity," Arthur purred, wrapping his arms around his lover and telling his eyes seal shut. Breathing soon became more subdued, quieter.
All the while, Alfred watched him and took in the calm rise and fall of the slim form in his arms- he'd say fragile, but no. Arthur was strong. Admirable, really, they way he could take pain head on made Alfred want to internally swoon. He really was obsessed.
Arthur was warm as he slept. The American tightened his hold, soon, tiredness taking over. The clock read nine o' clock over head as his eyes too closed, and outside, it began to rain.
Coalescence.
StarSpangledSilence says: 'Sappy!Dialogue is Sappy'.
If it keeps going like this, we might have them having sex in every single chapter…
Anyway; I hope you like the smut. Rather than first time, it was first time as a couple. With making love being the intention rather than a quick anal fuck.
Once again, I will dominate the world with my bottom!UK. Still can't stand him otherwise.
Hope you guys enjoyed this!
…Also, I bet my friend that if Jedward or Blue win Eurovision, she gets me a bag of haribo. I think I will be sorely disappointed. If not… I LIKE TANGTASTICS, DEARIE.