After the concert was chaos. People were moving in herds, some towards the stage and some towards the park exits. Alfred found himself nearly alone for the first time since arriving at the park, and he moved with single-minded determination. The last thing Arthur had said to him hours earlier rang in his head and urged him on, making him impatient.

Come backstage after the concert. My parents aren't home tonight, so we'll go to my place. And don't disappoint me, Jones.

All he had to do was get backstage and that damn punk wouldn't be such a fucking tease anymore.

With his chin up and his expression set to discourage anyone getting in his way, Alfred approached the crowd of those who'd stayed. They were surrounding the stairs that led to behind the stage, blocked off by a yellow rope and a rather intimidating man who looked like he probably worked as a bouncer when he wasn't doing stuff like this. Unfortunately for Al, he couldn't see any way through the crowd in order to reach the stairs, and how was he supposed to get past that bouncer? He was quick and he was strong but that didn't mean he wanted to get into a fistfight with some guy. Arthur hadn't given him a backstage pass or any special instructions, what was he supposed to do now?

Did he set me up?

It seemed a little too likely for Alfred's tastes. Trust that little asshole to lure him here with the promise of sex then leave him high and dry. Fucking punk. He was gonna get his ass kicked tomorrow when Al—

"Hey, you Al Jones?"

The sound of an unfamiliar voice saying his name drew the athlete's attention and he looked up to find the bouncer pointing directly at him.

"Uh, yeah."

Twisting his hand, the bouncer curled his finger. "C'mere."

A little uncertain, Al moved forward through the crowd as the other people parted to let him through. They were staring, which made him uncomfortable, but he tried not to show it. No way was he going to let these punks know he was intimidated by them. Because he wasn't. Not even a little.

"What?" he asked once he'd reached the foot of the stairs, and the bouncer unhooked the yellow rope.

"Artemis told me to let you in."

Artemis? Who the fuck was Artemis? But Alfred didn't argue or say that he didn't know an Artemis. Someone had said to let him backstage and that was exactly what he wanted, so he wasn't going to take any chances in screwing it up.

"Okay." He grinned and started up the stairs, passing the bouncer and pausing as the yellow rope was put back into place.

"Go up." The bouncer shooed Alfred with one hand. "He's waiting."

"Hey, why does he get to go?"

"I wanna meet Artemis!"

"He's not even punk!"

Some of the concert's other attendees began to shout angrily at the bouncer and pushed forward against the rope. Alfred waited just long enough to see the man bark orders at them before he went up the rest of the stairs and found himself behind the stage. It was mostly dark, with bright lights hanging from the ceiling that didn't really do much for the corners and near the walls. That didn't matter, though, because the one thing Alfred wanted at that moment was standing only a few feet away, hands on his hips and that stupid smirk on his face.

Approaching the other male, Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Artemis, huh?"

Arthur shrugged one shoulder. "It's punkier than Arthur is, and lots of famous punk rock stars have stage names."

"So would you prefer I call you Artemis?"

"Baby," the smirk became more seductive and Arthur slid up to Alfred's side, wrapping an arm around the tall blond's waist, "you can call me whatever you want."

Baby? Huh.

Alfred grinned and slung his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "I can deal with that."

"I knew a big tough guy like you could handle it." Still with their arms around each other, the two blonds crossed the backstage area and headed towards a small door set in the back.

Expression cool and posture relaxed, Alfred acted like he had every right to be touching Arthur like this as they walked. "How'd that bouncer guy know who I was?"

"I told him to look for a tall, gorgeous blond with stupid glasses." Arthur was going to pay for that one, he knew it just from the way Alfred's arm shifted around his shoulders, but he kept his grin in place. He'd been teasing Jones far too long to get all submissive now—that would come later, when the athlete proved that he deserved Arthur's obedience. "I'm already packed up, so we can get out of here. You need anything?"

"Nope."

"Then let's go."

There was no one crowding this door, which Alfred was thankful for. The last thing he needed was to be spotted by someone he knew with his arm around Arthur Kirkland, Punk Rock Extraordinaire. So he considered it lucky that they left the stage and people behind and walked alone to where Arthur and the other band members and staff had parked. The green-eyed blond drove a plain black car, though as soon as he clicked the unlock button and the lights came on, Alfred could see the green and black seat covers and steering wheel cover.

"What is it with you and black and green?" he asked, only half joking, as he and Arthur slid into the two front seats.

"It's my favorite color."

"But isn't this overdoing it a little?"

"Nope."

Alfred made a face that clearly said he thought the shorter blond was a little bit nuts, but he didn't say anything. They were quiet for the drive, no longer touching each other, and not speaking, because the reality of what was only a few minutes away had dawned on them. Alfred and Arthur, after having said barely a word to each other for years, were on their way to the Brit's house to have sex, and neither one knew quite how to feel about it.

Excited. Nervous. Eager. Curious about how this was going to turn out, about what exactly was going to happen when they finally got the chance to release all that pent up sexual tension they'd been trying to ignore for all this time.

God damn Alfred was curious. He wanted to know what that tattoo was and if Arthur had more than one, he wanted to know how many piercings he was going to find on the smaller male's body, wanted to know how that skin was going to taste and what sounds were going to escape past snakebit lips, how Arthur would move and react to everything he meant to do to him. He was so, so fucking curious, and getting more impatient by the minute.

How far away was his house? Too much longer of sitting in silence like this and Alfred was going to say something stupid. He didn't know what, but he was sure it would be stupid. Something lame and awkward, maybe flirtatious in a vaguely creepy way, just to try to break the silence.

"Almost there."

Thank god.

Curious about where the smaller blond lived, Alfred leaned and peered out his window. He was surprised to find himself in the less fortunate part of the city—he'd had no idea Arthur lived in this neighborhood. But they were still driving, encountering dirtier streets and smaller houses, shitty looking apartment buildings and tiny stores that advertised liquor and cigarettes more than anything else. Wait, was that gas station being robbed?! Arthur lived here? This was the worst part of the city!

Alfred was too shocked to voice any of his thoughts as Arthur pulled into a small, not very well lit or marked parking lot behind one of the smaller apartment buildings. The green-eyed blond was so sarcastic and cynical and snarky, he didn't act like he came from this sort of place at all. He had so much pride. He was in a band. He had piercings and tattoos, and Alfred refused to believe they were cheap because he knew Arthur would never get shitty body mods. How did someone like Arthur come from a place like this?

Neither boy said anything as they left the car—Arthur checked twice to make sure it was locked—and headed for the apartment building's back door. It wasn't locked, so they walked right in, though Alfred was a little bit hesitant to touch anything and almost tripped going up the steps because they were broken. Up a shabby, narrow staircase that smelled distinctly unpleasant and was lit by a single lightbulb at the top. Only two stories, but it looked like the stairs went down into a basement. Al hoped there weren't apartments down there. That would be a terrifying place to live. But then, this whole building—no, this whole neighborhood—was sort of terrifying.

At the top of the stairs, Arthur stopped and selected one of the few keys from the ring he was carrying and unlocked the door marked with a tarnished silver three. There was only one other door, that one labeled with a four, and a couple of windows that gave a view of the street in front of the building. Alfred let himself hope that the apartment on the other side of that door would be decent, but as Arthur pushed it open and they stepped inside, he found himself very, very wrong. Old gray carpet that looked like it hadn't been vacuumed in months, off-white, stained walls with cracks running across them, a light fixture hanging from the ceiling with only two of five working bulbs, dust and trash everywhere. The coffee table was being held up by a stack of what looked like porn magazines under its broken leg, and the TV was so old Alfred couldn't remember ever having actually seen one like it outside his grandparents' house when he was little. He wasn't even sure it would work if he turned the dial. The couch had rips in it that made him wonder if there weren't rats living in the stuffing.

Shit, what did he say? He'd sort of thought Arthur would live in a nicer neighborhood with typical middle class working parents and a decent house, not this smelly hell hole of an apartment building. Any plan of complimenting the Brit on his home was completely destroyed.

"Well, this isn't what I expected," he commented lamely, and Arthur looked at him, his expression defensive.

"What did you expect?"

"Uh, a house. Furniture. Just not…this."

"Well this is all I have. If you don't like it, you can get a taxi back to your rich daddy's house and forget about the deal." There was so much bite in Arthur's tone that Alfred raised his hands in self defense.

"Whoa, I didn't mean to piss you off. I honestly just thought a guy like you would live in a different part of town."

Green eyes stared at him, almost glaring, and Arthur turned on his heel to stalk away through the apartment, his bony shoulders hunched slightly. "If you're staying, come on. If you're going, there's the door."

For a moment, Alfred hesitated. Did he want to go any farther into this place, even for the sake of getting laid? For the sake of all those fantasies that had tormented for he wasn't sure how long?

…yep.

Quickly, he caught up to Arthur and followed the shorter blond past a small bathroom and a frighteningly dirty kitchen into the farthest back room of the apartment. Walking into Arthur's bedroom was like walking into a whole nother building.

"Whoa." Alfred's tone was impressed as he said it for the second time, looking around in curious appreciation. "Nice."

The walls had been painted white and were covered in posters of movies and punk bands to cover up the cracks. A large black rug covered most of the floor, and both of the lights came on when Arthur flicked the switch on the wall. Both of the windows were open to let in the cool night air, and there were candles on the ledges to get rid of the smell that permeated the rest of the building. Arthur's room smelled like…mint and chocolate.

It was kind of sexy, if Alfred was honest with himself.

There was also no trash to be seen, except for in the bin in the corner, and the bed was neatly made with the typical black and green bed sheets and covers. One wall held nothing but a small door that was probably a closet, and it bore yet another band poster. A dresser, painted a dark gray, sat in another corner, and beside it was a small desk that held Arthur's school books. One of them was open to an assignment they'd received earlier that day—Alfred was surprised to see that his companion had bothered to do homework before his concert.

Arthur watched the taller blond examine his room, a little smug. "You didn't think I'd put up with the same shit my parents do, did you?"

"Nope. It's closer to what I expected. I like it. It suits you."

Clearly surprised by that reaction, Arthur stared for a moment before looking away to hide the fact that he'd actually started to blush a little. "Right. Good. Anyway."

"So," Alfred started, gaze sliding over to look at Arthur out of the corners of his eyes, "you still wanna do this?" The Brit looked up at him, considering his question, then shrugged and started crossing the room.

"Depends."

Not this again.

"Depends on what?" He had to force himself to sound patient as he followed Arthur as closely as he dared. Suddenly, the Brit turned and the two were almost chest-to-chest, less than an inch of space between their bodies.

"On if you're going to stop acting like such a fucking pussy and do something or if you're going to keep tiptoeing around like you might catch tetanus if you touch a doorknob."

Son of a bitch.

"I'm gonna kick your ass," Alfred replied, his eyebrows raised as he fought a grin. It was nice to be taunted without having to resist responding in any way.

"I hope that's not all you're gonna do." Arthur cast a somewhat seductive look over his shoulder as he turned and sat on the bed, crossing one leg over the other. He was wearing tight pants again, but they weren't jeans. They were black leather, and the way they hugged every little bit of his legs made Alfred desperate to know if his imagination was at all accurate about the other blond's body. The pants were the only difference from the outfit he'd worn to school that day, but the longer Alfred looked at him, the less he cared about the clothes. Clothes didn't matter. Clothes were nothing but in the way.

God he wanted there to be no more clothes.

Without wasting another second, Alfred reached out and wrapped his fingers securely around Arthur's wrist, yanking the smaller male to his feet. He didn't give him a chance to protest, just spun him around and shoved him forward until he had the Brit pinned against the wall.

"Well this is interesting," Arthur commented, his tone just short of sarcastic, though he fell silent when a larger body pressed against his back and hands started sliding over his hips.

Like he'd thought about just that afternoon, Al let his tongue brush over those rings in Arthur's ear then caught one between his teeth and tugged gently. "You're gonna shut up if you want me to fuck you," he growled after the ring slipped from his grasp, and Arthur chuckled.

"You sound like you think I want this more than you do, but you're the one rubbing your dick against my arse."

Another growl escaped him and Alfred pressed his hips forward, hands braced against the wall so that Arthur had nowhere to go. "I fucking know you want it, or you wouldn't have offered the deal."

"So confident," the green-eyed Brit sighed, as if it was sad. Even though he wasn't showing it, Arthur was already starting to feel the first little tingles of arousal creeping through his body. It was kind of difficult not to push back and whine and beg for Alfred to actually do something to him. More. He wanted more now just like he'd wanted more during P.E. class, only now he could actually have it. He had Alfred Jones pressed up against him in his bedroom, growling into his ear and that was delicious, not to mention the rather sizable lump that wasn't quite grinding into his backside. And the way the athlete had toyed with his helix rings? Fucking sexy. Arthur had had his fair share of partners, but they'd barely gotten started and he was already starting to think Alfred Jones was going to be his favorite mistake.

"Yeah." A bit roughly, Alfred moved one hand down to Arthur's hip and rubbed, forcing the smaller male to move just slightly. "You've teased me every fucking day for years. Tonight, I'm taking everything you ever offered."

Yes, god, please.

"I'll be convinced when you actually do something." Why the hell wasn't he taking the bait? Arthur was setting the idiot up to treat him like his bitch and Alfred was fucking stalling! He should have at least been shirtless by now!

Behind him, Alfred had closed his eyes and was counting to ten in his head. He didn't want to hurt Arthur, just wanted to teach him a lesson. Maybe there would be some pain involved, but not out of anger. If the Brit kept up this damn teasing, though, he might not be able to help it. His temper might get away from him. "Arthur."

"Yes?" The shorter blond was innocent even as he dug his nails into his palms to keep himself from taking control.

"I don't wanna hear another word out of you unless I'm making you scream."

Arthur twisted his head around to smirk up at Alfred, his tongue sticking out. "What about begging?" he asked playfully, and a large hand gripped his chin.

"Begging is allowed."

"Oh, goody."

His first reaction being to roll his eyes, Alfred had to sigh and shake his head before he tightened his grip on Arthur's chin and leaned, almost hitting his head against the wall, and kissed him. Immediately, pierced lips parted and teeth caught his lip, tugging before a tongue traced across Alfred's mouth. Something round and hard dragged against his skin—Arthur had a tongue stud. Taken off-guard, the athlete's grip loosened, and Arthur managed to turn his smaller frame until his back was to the wall and he could slip his hands down a muscular chest to the hem of a t-shirt. He started to lift, and Alfred lifted his arms as soon as he realized what the guitarist wanted. They removed his shirt together, eyes meeting once the garment had been tossed onto the floor. Arthur was biting his lip, looking up through green-tipped bangs, fingers resting against Al's lower stomach.

That was probably the most innocent sexy face Alfred had ever seen. "Aw, fuck." Quickly, he tangled a hand in golden blond hair and drew Arthur forward to kiss him again, tilting his head and plundering the Brit's mouth before another word could be said. Arthur moaned quietly, eyes falling closed and hands moving to hips, pulling to bring his body closer to Alfred's. It always felt good to have someone else against him, but this was something else. This was…perfect.

Since Alfred was so much taller than he was, it was easy for the athlete to dominate the kiss almost completely, but Arthur wasn't one to meekly let another man's tongue fuck his throat. For a few moments, he was pliant and malleable in Alfred's hands. He let the other blond push him back against the wall again, let a hand wander up his stomach under his shirts, let teeth catch and nip his lips and snake bites, let Alfred's tongue explore and investigate the metal stud going through his own tongue. And he moaned. He gasped at Alfred's touch and whined every time the ash blond withdrew, clung to him like any needy bitch would. Because he was feeling pretty needy, but he was also playing up his reactions considerably to egg Alfred on. This was good, but he wanted great. He wanted god-like, wanted heaven. He wanted the punishment and fucking that Alfred had kept saying he was going to get. So he was perfectly submissive, until the kiss started to lose its almost forceful edge.

As soon as he realized Alfred was backing off, Arthur growled and pushed back, wrapped his arms tight around the athlete's neck. His hips rolled, rubbing their groins together, and he attacked Alfred's mouth as if he meant to claim it for the rest of eternity. To his delight, Alfred grabbed onto him and shoved him against the wall so hard it almost hurt his back, came back with renewed vigor. Except Arthur didn't back down and be submissive this time. He kept kissing the bespectacled blond until he was fighting for breath, until Alfred was fighting, too, until he was only a few seconds away from pulling himself up and wrapping his legs around the other male's waist to press closer, to increase that wonderful, exquisite friction that was making him arch his back and move his hips in a shamefully desperate way.

Finally, he started to get too lighted-headed to continue and pulled back, gasping Alfred's name as he did, and leaned his head back against the wall in order to catch his breath. Breathing just as hard, Alfred let his forehead press against the Brit's and smiled crookedly.

"Fuck," he commented breathlessly, then chuckled, and Arthur grinned.

"Yes, please."

"God you're such a tease."

"You like it."

"Heh. Yeah."

While Arthur watched, Alfred ducked down and latched his mouth onto the side of the Brit's neck, teeth digging into pale flesh and tugging as he sucked. His tongue laved; he slid his hand out from under Arthur's shirts and around, down to cup his ass and squeeze.

Arthur let his head tilt to the side, giving Alfred more room to bite and lick, and he shifted between muscular body and teasing hand. "Mm…Al…"

Oh, he liked the sound of that, and he meant to make Arthur say it over and over again, in whimpers and moans and screams and any other pretty sound he could drive out of him.

"Al…" Slowly, Arthur relaxed his arms and let his fingers trail down Alfred's chest, tracing over shoulders and pecks and that god-like six pack to the finely defined hip bones. His fingers encountered denim and halted their downward path, began moving inwards until they found the buckle of a belt. And, while Alfred was busy leaving a series of hickeys on Arthur's throat, the Brit slid the belt free of its buckle. He moved onto the button after that, then the zipper, delicately drawing it down and groaning softly when Alfred's mouth wandered up to his ear and began playing with his helix rings again. Each one was licked and tugged, all the way up and around. It almost tickled.

Just as he was gripping the fabric of Al's jeans in order to pull them down, the athlete suddenly stepped back away from him, gripping his wrists and moving them away from his jeans.

Confused and annoyed, Arthur glared. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he demanded, and Alfred smirked.

"You first."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Trust Alfred to interrupt things just to be a picky asshole. But arguing wouldn't do him any good so he sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Still with that stupid damn smirk, Alfred released the smaller male and stepped back. "Then strip."

He had to be fucking joking. Arthur had helped him with his shirt, and done his belt and jeans! The least the git could do was return the favor! As he glared, though, Arthur realized that the athlete wasn't about to give in. If he wanted to continue, he was going to have to follow Alfred's orders.

Oh.

Realization dawned. How had he not realized it before? It was so simple.

A devious grin took over the Brit's features; he clasped his hands behind his back and leaned against the wall. "You'd love for me to follow your orders, wouldn't you, Alfred."

Al clearly didn't see where Arthur was going with this. "It'd be nice."

"Yeah, it would. But I think you want more from me than just my compliance. I think you want my complete obedience. I think you want to bend me to your will and make me fulfill every dirty little fantasy in that head of yours. Right? Wouldn't that be nice? If I was your pretty little plaything for a night? Let you dress me up and strip me down, tease me until I beg for you, then torment me some more? Stretch me so wide I can't possibly take anymore then fill me up over and over until the only thing I can do is call out for 'Master Alfred' while you fuck me raw?" Pushing away from the wall, Arthur slinked across the short distance Alfred had put between them. He placed a hand on the taller blond's chest, felt his heart pounding behind his ribs, looked down at the bulge in Al's jeans and licked his lips. "Yeah, you want me dripping and begging, maybe even tied up so I'm helpless to relieve myself. You want me begging and pleading until you have enough mercy to take pity on me and let me cum. Wouldn't it be nice, Master? If I was your good boy?"

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Alfred had never heard anything like that in his life. Was he breathing? Maybe. Maybe not. He wasn't sure. It didn't matter. Yeah, he wanted all those things Arthur had just described. He'd never really thought of it as being the Brit's master, but damn that was a hot picture in his head. Would Arthur really let him do all that?

"….are you serious?"

Arthur nodded, his gaze lowered submissively. "Yes, Master."

God damn. Okay. How did he respond? Was he just supposed to start giving him orders? How specific was he supposed to be? He'd never done this sort of thing before. What if he screwed it up? Would Arthur laugh at him? That would be the worst embarrassment of his life. Shit.

Waiting.

Waiting.

It's not that bloody hard. Just tell me what to do. Give me a command. Make me your bitch. Come on, Alfred. Where's all that dominance from a bit ago?

What was taking so long? He hadn't said all that just so Alfred would lose his nerve and do nothing. It looked like he was going to have to do a little more tempting, maybe some taunting, teasing and provoking. That was what worked before, there was no reason for it not to work now.

Hiding his annoyance, Arthur reached up and lightly kissed the athlete's chest. "Master?"

"Yeah?" As he'd feared, Alfred sounded hesitant and nervous.

"Are you going to punish me? I've been bad…"

"Oh. Uh. Yeah."

"Master doesn't sound too sure. Maybe he isn't mad? Maybe he isn't going to punish me?"

They looked at each other for a moment, Arthur's eyes wide and innocent as he pouted slightly. In contrast, Alfred's eyes were narrowed as he thought, and soon he was frowning.

"No, I'm definitely going to punish you. So," he arched an eyebrow and grabbed Arthur's chin almost painfully tight, lifting until the shorter blond was forced onto the tips of his toes, "first, you're going to admit what you did wrong, and you're going to apologize. Then I'm going to punish you, and if I don't think your apology is sincere, your punishment will be that much worse. We'll keep going until I think you're really sorry."

Now that was more like it. Seemed like Alfred was going to fill his role just fine.

"Y-yes, Master…"

"Good. Now, tell me what you did."

With an apologetic expression, Arthur looked down as much as he was able, which wasn't much considering Alfred hadn't let go of his chin. "Made Master angry," he whispered, tone almost frightened.

"Yes, you did. But be specific, Arthur. What did you do to make me angry?"

"Teased…"

"Yeah." Using his grip on the shorter male, Alfred pulled Arthur closer until their noses almost brushed, until it was a struggle for Arthur to maintain his balance and their chests touched. "You teased me when you knew I wouldn't do anything to you for it. You made my life hell, and you liked doing it. Isn't that right?"

Arthur whimpered, nodding, knowing it would make his "punishment" that much worse. God he was looking forward to this. Alfred was perfect. He'd slipped into his role as Master as if he'd done it a hundred times, as if they were lovers and this was their favorite game. To be honest, it was one of Arthur's favorites. He rather liked the thrill of not knowing what exactly was going to be done to him, or when he might be given a break. It was exciting and it was bloody sexy. Alfred was sexy. Just the look in his eyes, that dominant, aggressive, no-nonsense look, made Arthur really believe that the taller blond wasn't going to give him an inch, and it was going to be glorious.

Shaking his head, Alfred tsked his tongue and sighed. "Such a naughty pet. I thought I trained you better than that. Or maybe," he leaned close now, head tilted, mouth so close to Arthur's that the green-eyed teen could feel breath against his lips, "maybe you really like what I do to you. Hm? You always beg for more. You moan and move like a whore, like my personal, pretty little slut. The sounds you make…so sexy." Alfred smirked, watching as Arthur's pinks flushed a dark pink and he toyed with his lip ring in a nervous way, felt him shift his weight from foot to foot. "Yeah, you're naughty, but you like it. You love when I mark you, when I touch you and make you squirm. Such a dirty little slut."

He was talking like they'd done this countless times and Arthur was starting to wish that they had. How many times had he had opportunities to approach the athlete and hadn't? How many times had he passed up a chance to experience this spine-tingling foreplay? Too many. Too fucking many.

"M-Master…I…I…"

"You, what? Are you going to deny it? That would be a lie, Arthur, and we both know it. If you lie to me, I'll have to punish you for that, too." Alfred chuckled. "But you'd like that, wouldn't you."

Shit, he was good. His momentary hesitation a bit ago might as well not have happened. He was a natural. He was making Arthur nervous and impatient and needy and hell no one else had been able to get to him so quickly, not during this game.

Quiet, Arthur lowered his gaze again and let his voice come out small and meek. "Yes, Master."

Alfred smirked and brushed his thumb over the Brit's lips, toying with the rings. "That's what I thought." He was finally going to get to bend Arthur to his will and show him who was boss, teach him a lesson, make him sorry for all that damn teasing, and he was going to love every minute of it. "Now, since I know you're not sorry, why don't you be a good boy and strip? I'd hate to make you wait for your punishment."

In his head, Arthur was dying. This was wicked. This was perfect. Yes. Yes. Yes. He would strip, he'd beg and apologize and beg some more, he'd do anything Alfred wanted, just as long as he kept talking like that. So bloody sexy. But outwardly, all he did was nod obediently, and then Alfred let him go.

"Don't keep me waiting, Arthur."

Ducking his head, the shorter blond nodded again and shyly turned his back on the other male. He acted hesitant and nervous as he pulled the fishnet off over his head, dropping it by his feet, and reached for his vest top with trembling fingers.

After this, things were really going to start moving. It would be a whirlwind of teasing and foreplay and a whole hell of a lot of dirty abuse talk, and then, finally, they would fuck. More than once, hopefully. Probably. Definitely, if Alfred was up to it, which he would bet the American was. Yeah, they were going to shag until one of them couldn't move anymore. Hopefully, that would be Arthur, but he wouldn't mind finishing Al off even if he was exhausted to the point of collapse. He certainly hoped he would be exhausted by the time they finished.

It was going to be brilliant, and as he started to lift his shirt, he could feel Alfred's eyes on him like a touch. The tension that had always existed between them was so heavy now that he could have grabbed it and ripped it, crumpled it into a ball, cut it apart. Anticipation hung in the air. As of a few minutes ago, he was Alfred's personal, pretty little slut, and he was going to play his part until he couldn't even move, like a good pet should.