Author's Note: Sorry this one took a little while to write, I was having some trouble deciding which direction to take it. Anyways, I hope you guys like it! If you have questions, leave them in a review. Thanks so much to the people who've favorited, followed, and reviewed "Save Me From December". You guys make me want to keep writing!
Chapter Song: "Give Me Love" by Ed Sheeran / "Cave In" by Owl City
Arthur never thought that he had ever been a part of something more embarrassing. Okay, well, he had...just not in public. He and Francis were walking together with Gilbert, Matthew, Antonio, and Lovino. Francis had already broken the news (to which Arthur had finally allowed him to do) about the two's fiasco at the apartment to Gilbert and Antonio. Antonio had suggested doing something together (Lovino and Matthew tagged along to make the Frenchman's new love less uncomfortable) and Arthur had already forgotten where exactly else they were going (they had gone to some gallery already), but that information wasn't the first thing on his mind as of currently. Francis was twisting one of his cartilage studs, and smirking like a wolf that had finally caught a deer he had been tracking for hours. Arthur normally wouldn't have minded it, but - due to the fact that he was wanting the jewelry to stay in his ears, and he was certain that if the other blond continued to play with them, they would fall out - he did.
When he heard Francis whisper a "je t'aime" to him, he hissed back, "Look, just because I kissed you doesn't make us the new gay couple on the block, and stop pulling on my earrings or I'm going to break all your fingers off!" Francis, without hesitation removed his fingers from Arthur's lobe, watching him rub the ear, as if he was trying to get Francis's touch off of it. Arthur spoke, "I don't want to loose them; they weren't very cheap," Adding a small smile, he said softly, "Sorry for the outburst."
Understanding, Francis gave Arthur a peck on the lips, to which Arthur couldn't suppress a faint blush. It was cute, until the two caught the rest of the group gawking at them. 'Oh right,' thought Arthur, 'we can't exactly do any PDA without the quartet watching our every move.' He knew that they weren't judging, since they all did the same thing; but, Arthur found his preference resting in lying on the couch with Francis where they were by themselves, rather than being subjected to watchful eyes that invaded their moments. Arthur had wanted to speak this to Francis before they left, but he decided to just keep his mouth closed. He had procrastinated Francis from telling his two best friends for quite a few days (it had been five days since they first kissed), so he didn't want to be selfish...though, who could blame him?
Despite the turmoil in his mind, he continued walking with the rest of the group. It wasn't like he was just going to stop in the middle of the sidewalk or anything. He'd put up with watching a movie, walking around some flea market, or whatever the lot of them had planned to do this evening, but he'd make sure to express his distaste of such things to Francis once the two were freed.
Francis already knew that Arthur wouldn't be one for walking about with his friends and their boyfriends, the Brit preferred being safely tucked away in the apartment rather than out in the open. Not that he didn't care to make-out with him in privacy, although he had hoped that Arthur would become what Lovino was to Antonio, and what Matthew was to Gilbert: a man who didn't care if there were two or two thousand people around them; he could still kiss him and be confident. Perhaps that wish would be granted at a later time, but for now, he could be happy with Arthur being completely smitten for him.
Stretching his arms over his head and letting out a yawn (it was fake, but he thought he sounded pretty genuine) and spoke in a weary voice, "Mon amis, I'm very tired. I think I'll take Arthur and go back home."
Antonio pouted, "You're never tired Francy...did you stay up too late?"
Gilbert grinned, "Nah, he just wants to be alone with Artie."
Francis frowned, unhappy that his cover was quickly foiled, while Arthur was scowling at the nickname that was adopted by the three of them. "Artie" didn't sound so bad coming from Francis's mouth, but accompanied with a smirk and said by Gil or Toni was less to be desired, at least by him.
Gilbert groaned, "Okay, fine, we'll let you two go enjoy the honeymoon phase. But, you're not ditching us the next time!"
Francis latched his arm to Arthur's neck, spun them both around, and called back half-heartedly with a wave of his hand, "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He sighed, giving Arthur an apologetic look, "Those two are great, but they hate it when I bail on them." With a warm smile, he said, "I'd much rather be with you at home too."
Arthur blinked, "Are you a mindreader now?"
Francis beamed, "Non, your disdain of the situation was just far too obvious."
Arthur sighed, "No offense to them, but I'm not a big fan of your friends. Lovino and Matthew are nice, but I can't see how you can deal with Gilbert and Antonio all the time."
Francis chuckled, "Some high school friends simply stick with you."
Walking briskly through the streets, clinging to each other to keep warm, the couple spoke little as they brushed past the citizens of Manhattan to find their apartment on Chelsea St. Once their destination was found, they shed their coats in the lobby, and shared a kiss in the elevator on the way to their floor. Even mere kisses were dangerous; they always seemed to have a dark plan of sexual desire waiting just around the corner. And just as lust intended, it was all a matter of restraint until the two could get behind the closed door to their apartment. Once Francis could manage to unlock the door and slam it closed once the duo were inside, Arthur pressed him to the door and let his lips and teeth scrape across his lover's neck heatedly. He needed the Frenchman, now.
Francis growled as the light pinch of teeth biting down on the skin of his neck could be felt, and he curled his fingers into Arthur's arms. "Merde...Arthur. Were you planning on jumping me once we were out of sight?"
His lover couldn't answer immediately, as he was pressing his body up against Francis's, and pushing a knee in between his two legs. His tongue had left a wet trail up his jawline and was currently giving his lips a massage. Arthur may not be the most skilled lover out there, but it was amazing how much lust and want could be packed into such a man. Desire was eradicating every concern, and all Francis wanted was to find their bed.
Arthur had processed the very thought Francis had, and gripped his wrists delicately; pulling him through the living room, and into their bedroom, his lips never leaving his lovers. Pushing Francis onto the bed, Arthur crawled on top and gave a devious lust-filled smirk to the man underneath of him. Adrenaline was pouring into his bloodstream and the sight of his lover looking up at him. Arthur had only topped once in his life. Alfred had wondered what it would be like to give his older, yet smaller, boyfriend the reigns of sex. Arthur had loved it, even if Alfred moaned and bitched afterward that he didn't like not being in control; so, he never topped again. And, all of his clients weren't interested in being topped by a lowly whore. This was an opportunity he wouldn't pass up.
Releasing his grip from Francis's wrists, he instead placed his hands on his hips to hold him steady and gave another heated kiss. Swirling his tongue inside of Francis's mouth, he began undoing the buttons of his shirt, as his fingers were itching to touch Francis's skin. Arthur could already feel himself getting hard, and his cheeks were enflamed with desire.
Francis was enjoying his position underneath of Arthur, though he wasn't used to being the one fucked rather than doing the fucking. Hell, he'd only been bottom a few times, and usually that was because the person on top was riding him. To put it simply, Francis would rather top Arthur in order to see his cute face become red and twisted with passion from his own doing. Although he didn't want to spoil his lover's fun he was having being on top (Francis could tell that Arthur didn't get an opportunity like that often), he'd figure he would treat Arthur right for their first time together. Besides, he was quite interested in finding out how tight or loose his small and eager lover was.
Quickly turning the tables on Arthur, Francis pinned him down to the bed, Arthur blinking up in sheer surprise and confusion perhaps. His disappointment was short-lived, however, as Arthur realized a possibly true and dirty hypothesis: if Francis was three times better than Alfred at kissing, who knows how he would compare to his former fiancé at sex? It was a wanton, immoral, shameless, and frankly whorish thought, but Arthur simply didn't give a damn.
On the other hand, Francis was unbuttoning Arthur's shirt, and pulling off his own at the same time. His thoughts weren't crowded with comparisons and high expectations, it was merely a matter of stripping the two of them down. His eyes then locked with something interesting that rested near the bone of his hip, and he ran tender fingers over it. Arthur blushed when he realized what his lover had found, and Francis gave him a smile, "I like your tattoo."
Arthur's cheeks flushed darker, and Francis could help but ask, "Did you forget about it or something? You look surprised." The tattoo was of a red electric guitar that was adorned with black roses around the edges, with thorns coiling around the instrument. Sexy was the only word Francis could come up with to describe it.
Arthur shook his head, "No...just of all my sleeping partners, you're the first to spot it almost immediately." Seeing him getting all flustered was only making Francis more and more turned on; and he hadn't wasted any time removing their clothes, save their boxers, and started teasingly stroking Arthur's clothed length.
The noise in response was right, but his facial expression was wrong.
Arthur had given him a moan dripping with lust, but to Francis's horror, his eyes were slid shut tightly and he looked pained. He had barely touched him, and the Frenchman could already feel his muscles tense and rejection starting to take form in his features. Why? What had he...?
Oh...
Francis remembered that Arthur was probably used to having his pretty face screwed up with the pain of some man pushing harshly inside of him, unwanted, uninvited. It was sickening, disgusting, horrid, and it was beginning to put a bad taste in his mouth. He would have never let a fact like that stop him before, but he found himself giving into his thoughts; he couldn't do this. Not now. Not whenever Arthur was still uncomfortable with sex in general. He wouldn't allow himself to hurt him, no matter how much lust still remained drilled into him. He'd wait, and allow Arthur to heal more. It probably wouldn't be nice nor fair to Arthur, or so he'd think, but they'd only known each other for two weeks and Arthur was still fragile (as much as he didn't want to believe it).
So, he'd take the risk of being called a bastard, and slipped his fingers past Arthur's waistband. Wrapping his hand around his member, he'd decided to just get Arthur off and go to bed before he could get yelled at. The slow pumping he was doing had earned a quiet hiss from his lover, and started going a bit faster, opening and closing his hand around the swollen cock.
Arthur felt so good, moaning all he could at Francis's hand touching him. But, he wanted more to get it off. He ached to feel Francis's member inside him, stretching him, making him feel better than he had ever felt in his life. He was feeling relief approaching swiftly, and he was growing confused as to why Francis was still using his hand. What did he think he was doing?
"Fran...cis..." he groaned, "God, more...please..."
The stroking continued, and Arthur could feel his hand getting faster, but that wasn't what he wanted. Francis wasn't playing coy to piss him off, was he?
"Please Francis...I want...I want you inside me..."
Dear lord, he was going to cum at any second at this rate. Why wasn't Francis...?
"No, inside...damn Francis...please...!"
Francis hated hearing Arthur beg for something both parties desperately wanted, and he was unable to give it to him. It made him feel like scum. Nevertheless, he just continued to jack Arthur off, until the man was a moaning mess and came hard into Francis's hand.
Opening his eyes back up, Arthur looked up to Francis who was staring off at something else. Damn him! He had the nerve to give him a hand job and he still couldn't even look at him straight?! He was breathing heavily, but his eyebrows slanted down, and he glared at Francis. He watched him as he climbed under the sheets and laid down against his pillow.
Arthur snarled, "You can't even look at me straight whenever you decide that you're done with what you started?"
Francis looked up to him, and Arthur's breath hitched. His blue eyes weren't clouded with lust, but instead they looked hollow and empty, saddened almost. What in the hell..?
"You don't even want to finish what you started? Francis, I want you to fuck me!" Arthur wasn't big on begging, he never had been good at it. It made him feel worthless and at the mercy of someone. But he felt even more worthless when Francis answered his plea.
"No."
What...? No...? But...
"Go to bed, Arthur."
Out of sheer shock, Arthur had followed the cold order. Laying down and facing away from Francis, he clutched his pillow tightly, and felt his teeth sink into his bottom lip. Rejection sunk into his mind. Sure, he had been a little nervous whenever Francis had put himself in dominant position, but he hadn't meant to show it. It wasn't fair that he still retained the fear of being fondled against his will and without his permission, but how could he help himself? The last person who fucked him was rough and made him feel utterly helpless.
He felt outraged, but he wasn't sure if it was with Francis or himself.
He felt disgusted with himself, knowing that he was practically begged for Francis's dick in his mind, taking on the thoughts of a needy whore. Of course Francis wouldn't want a whimpering whore in his bed; let alone a whore at all. The Frenchman's rejection made those cursed ideas settle in his brain again: You're nothing but a whore. Once a whore, always a whore. You're not worthy of having someone to love you. Your body is the only thing your good for. And Francis hadn't even wanted that; he was probably disgusted by him too. Letting him get it off was probably out of politeness, and it was sickening to think about such a thing.
His dreary thoughts soon carried him to nightmares, and Arthur felt like he was going to cry.
That morning, Arthur didn't wake up to the smell of food, yet Francis was absent from the bed. Looking over to the bedside clock, and groaning at the time (11:30 am), he rolled out of bed and trudged out of the bedroom into the living room. Francis wasn't sitting in the chair, or in the kitchen for that matter.
Heading into the kitchen, he noticed a note on the refrigerator door. Pulling off the magnet and placing it somewhere else, he read the note written in Francis's cursive writing: "Gone into town to take pictures. Probably will be home at 3 or 4. -Francis" There weren't any clues of Francis's feelings from last night that could be found in the note, and Arthur was finding his throat becoming swollen and tight once again. Putting the note back on the fridge, he walked into the living room, and looked up at the pictures on the wall.
He caught himself staring at the photos of Francis with different girls. Could his sexuality may have been a factor of last night's actions? Arthur had only assumed that Francis was gay, but he never came out and stated whom he swung for out loud to him. Maybe he wasn't? Only one way to find out.
Pulling open the medicine cabinet in the kitchen, he saw the list of numbers that Francis had told him about. The Frenchman's own number was marked in pencil at the bottom of it, as he had written it down for Arthur specifically. He'd also promised that he would get a phone for Arthur sometime, so that he could call him if needed. The first two numbers belonged to Gilbert and Antonio. Arthur sighed, if anyone could answer his questions, it would be these two. Picking up the apartment phone, he dialed one of the numbers and held it to his ear.
"Hola?"
"Antonio, this is Arthur."
"Oh! Hi Arthur! Did you want to talk to Lovi? I'll go get him for-"
"No. I wanted to talk to you actually."
"Oh...okay. Well, is anything wrong? Is this about Francis?"
"Y-Yeah, um...this is kind of a weird question, but...is Francis gay?"
"Si, he's gay..." Well, that was easy. "...But he wasn't always." Huh?
"Wait, he was straight before?"
"Well...no...he was bisexual."
"Okay..."
Antonio took this as a cue to explain more, "His father was never proud of it, and his mother had died when he was young...so he was only left with a disappointed father to turn to when he realized that he liked both men and women. He had many relationships in high school and college, most of them girls."
"Was it because his father didn't approve of him being with males?"
"Actually...his father had abandoned him once Francis was a sophomore in high school, so he wasn't around to keep that in his head. Francis, however, had felt that his father leaving was his fault, so he tried to keep himself tied to women."
Arthur was beyond surprised, Francis had suffered a bad childhood? He hadn't given any indication of this, nor had he told him this. He couldn't help but ask, "Was he in a relationship with Charlotte?"
"Charlotte? You mean his co-worker? No, Charlotte's like a sister to him. Once he was left on his own, Charlotte's family allowed him to live at their house and helped him pay for college and the likes."
"Oh..."
"But, he spent a long time with this French-speaking African girl, Sabine. He seemed happy, but he broke it off after a while whenever he said that he was starting to get bored with her..."
"What about that blonde girl? The one in the pictures?"
"...she was Francis's last girlfriend. I believe they dated four years ago."
Arthur caught Antonio's voice getting lower and softer. If Arthur could have seen the other man's face, he could tell that he was frowning. "So, what happened?"
"Joan was a very lighthearted but determined person. If you challenged her, she'd figure out a way to accomplish any task. Dios, she was amazing.
"However, Francis was starting to come into terms with the fact that he wasn't attracted to girls, and that he was only attracted to men. Francis was growing more distant from her, and even blew off a date that she and him had arranged. He didn't want to hurt her, and he figured that the only way he could do that was to be honest about his sexuality. She'd understand, even if she still loved him.
"So, he had decided to head out to the place where she had been stood up, and along the way, he saw a bunch of police cars at one of the intersections, blocking off a car accident that had occurred. Joan had been speeding out of anger, and she'd tried to run the red light, but ended up smashing into another car. The officers claimed she was killed on impact, and Francis was devastated. He felt that it was his fault this all happened, and full of heartache that he couldn't tell Joan that he was gay before she died."
Oh god...Arthur felt his palm clutching the phone tighter, and his tongue swirled in his mouth uneasily, a technique he used whenever he tried to suppress his emotions. Francis had gone through all this, and was still appeared so happy? Guilt flooded over Arthur. He had forced his problems onto Francis, when the man he was seeking comfort from had gone through Hell as well. His hand on the phone trembled, and Arthur whispered an "oh my god" before cupping his other hand over his eyes.
"I know, it's such a sad story. But, trust me Arthur. You shouldn't have to worry about Francis not sleeping with you or anything like that..." He perked up, pressing his ear to the phone more, "...he cares for you. You mean a lot to him, and I know he won't pass up the opportunity..."
With that, Arthur hung up the phone without saying goodbye and leaned against the kitchen wall. What was the point? Where was the point in staying here? Arthur had warned Francis many times that he didn't want to be a burden, and Antonio had told him that he had suffered as badly (to his opinion, it was worse) as he did, and he'd refused to sleep with him. And on top of all that, he could still find the memory of Alfred sitting in his mind every single day. If he had truly been fair to Francis, then his former fiancé would have been erased from his mind and there would only be Francis left.
He knew that staying here was a bad idea. He shouldn't have allowed his heart to be tugged on by Francis so easily. But, Francis hadn't betrayed him...he just didn't want him. And that was okay...he supposed. Better to not be wanted that to be cheated on, right? Looking out the window at the busy city morning, he gave a melancholy sigh.
Would it be so hard to abandon this place and go back to his life before Francis?
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