The sheer joy and exuberance he felt had long since melted to a heated passion beneath Francis's fingertips, and in a heady dizzy haze, Alfred's mind spun with mixed emotion. Joy, yes, certainly yes. Desire, oh that couldn't be denied. He was certain lust was painting his cheeks a heated shade of red, knew that with his blood feeling on fire like this his skin would reflect such vigor. He almost felt delirious like this, and as he felt stubble graze his collarbone, as he felt addicting kisses peppered over his neck, it wasn't humor that made Alfred begin to laugh. It wasn't that he was tickled either.
He was on top of the world, and perhaps he could blame the airy feeling in his mind on the things Francis was doing to make his blood rush south... but that just couldn't sum it all up. He had to laugh. Not at Francis, goodness no. He laughed because he needed to... because it felt right and it was almost the only outlet he had for the overwhelming feeling that gripped him even in this passion. Thankfully Francis must have understood, the feeling must have been contagious, for though the older host continued to kiss at his skin, a soft chuckle couldn't help but trickle from deep within him as well.
"Francis..." Alfred murmured, mouth working the name over a couple of times as he tried to find some way to express all this other than laughter. It was almost absurd... him of all people, not able to find any words to say! Francis moved up over him, resting on top of him and silencing Alfred with playful kisses for a moment. Both blonds fell into the moment again, bodies torturing each other as they moved and shifted and pressed deliciously, though eventually Francis pulled back just slightly. From beneath his wavy fall of hair he stared down into the agent's eyes. Blue meeting blue, yet such a vast difference between them.
'These are the eyes of someone I'm saving.' Alfred blinked, something painful yet awesomely sweet washing over him at the thought. It was the surge of emotion before victory, it had to be. It was the feeling he always got doing his job, helping others, yet infinitely more intense right now. "I'm going to do it Francis. I sort of maybe doubted it before... but now I know. I know. I'm going to get you out of here. I'm going to take down the Gallery, and they won't hurt the other hosts anymore... won't hurt you... won't hurt your little girl..."
His mouth had hit its stride, and in this moment Alfred saw nothing but opportunity. He saw no limits, no barriers. Arthur's visit hadn't magically changed the situation completely, but it'd managed to cast some sort of spell. It'd washed away the gloom and grime the Gallery had painted over Alfred's eyes. It'd opened them back up completely. The freedom he came here to bring and offer, the release he'd been promising Francis all this time! 'I can finally, finally give it to him. I know without a doubt!' He burned with determination. "And once I get us all out... you out... then-"
"Shh..." Francis chuckled, putting a finger to his lips. From the tiny tremble Alfred could feel in it, he knew Francis was sharing his excitement, his heightened emotions.
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"Do not say any more," Francis bid the younger man beneath him, even if his heart yearned to hear more. He couldn't take it, couldn't take all the optimism and promise and hope that Alfred was brimming with right now. He would lose all his patience, would find it simply impossible to wait any longer. Alfred really was infectious when he started spouting out these dreams, and it was a pity the other hosts weren't here, didn't have this chance to have their spirits refreshed and their hearts refilled. No doubt Feliciano would burst into happy tears, and Francis couldn't stop the sudden fit of hilarity he had trying to imagine Berwald excited.
He needed to stop Alfred from talking now though, from saying anything more. Yes, now was not the time for deep thoughts, introspection, or any sort of confessions of feeling whatsoever. Alfred seemed close to treading such dangerous ground in his euphoria, and Francis was finding it difficult not to get swept along. While on one hand Francis wanted to believe that everything the younger man was saying was absolute truth right now, he wasn't certain that perhaps when it came to... 'them'... Alfred might not say something he didn't exactly mean. No reason to let this good, no, wonderful night lead to awkwardness between them!
How wonderful that Francis could think of many things they could do, rather than talk, no? Bouts of passion, getting caught up physically in the moment, were much less awkward the next day than confessions of possibly false affection. He gave Alfred a kiss as he slid his finger away, lips hungry and tongue quite delighted to find a welcome in. Did he groan or Alfred? Did it even matter? God he could drink in the feeling of this kiss, lose himself in the moment here happily. But... he wanted to celebrate, Alfred wanted to celebrate... so why not have a little fun?
Slowly breaking the kiss, letting his tongue linger and sweep over Alfred's lips, Francis rose. Alfred's eyes, glazed yet in such a wonderful way, stared at him in apparent confusion. A devilish twinkle lit up Francis's eyes, and he smirked. He began to back off the bed, reaching out his hand at seemingly the last moment, letting his fingers touch Alfred's chest and ghost up, stroking up sternum to neck, curling his fingers as they traced the chin forward. Coyly backing away, Francis need not give any sort of beckoning looks. Alfred followed as if he was a snake and Francis the charmer.
"If we are going to celebrate properly," he mused, seemingly casual though the heat in his voice threw that illusion out the window. He continued his backwards saunter, hands playfully teasing Alfred to touch him while simultaneously keeping things chaste. "Then I must certainly wash up. You had me worried, no? I flew straight to your side after my last client." Was it weird how easily Francis could navigate to Alfred's bathroom, backwards, in very dim lighting? Perhaps, but that wasn't a topic for deep thinking at the moment.
The younger man cocked his head to the side slightly, caught somewhere inside a triangle of confusion, lingering want and impatience. Could the agent not understand why he was brought to the bathroom as well? Francis offered him no answers, instead turning to start the shower water, taking his time to find the proper temperature. He made no move to turn on the bathroom light, quite content with the almost surreal blue haze cast by the small safety light that never dimmed. It gave everything an ethereal almost ghostly feel, something not exactly magical really (how magical could a bathroom feel?), but detached.
Francis would be the world's biggest liar if he ever claimed he didn't enjoy stripping for people, but tonight he seemed to enjoy it even more. Perhaps it was the way Alfred watched his fingers move so attentively, easily lead around at his every gesture. Oh removing a shirt, or pants and such, truly didn't take so long as Francis made it seem, but it was time well spent, based on Alfred's expression. Still, the younger blond swallowed hard, and Francis could see the uncertain debate hitting his eyes. The longer this went on... the more difficult it would be to pretend they'd been swept away. This was all becoming very intentional, this celebration of theirs.
"Umm," Alfred began, reminding Francis more of a virginal teen than a well seasoned host. Endearing, really, that Alfred could have these moments after all this time. "I can leave, ya know... while you shower up. Wait for ya so we can... umm... watch a victory movie or something."
When it came to love (or lust or any shade in and around the two), Francis rarely missed his mark. Was this Alfred declining this night? No. Was this Alfred giving Francis of all people a way out? It seemed to be. The older blond stepped into the shower, keeping Alfred in his sight the entire time, and reached out his hand. Alfred had given him a chance here, he could offer the same. Water droplets danced over his head and shoulders, sending his hair into slithering seductive little swirls on his face. The steam of the shower drifted about him in a lazy cloud.
"You could leave if you'd like Alfred," and truly he could, and Francis would think no less of the agent. It might... stab at his heart a bit, and his pride, but it would not change the strength of the bond growing between them... only the nature of it. "Or... you could come in here and help me."
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To hell with leaving. Though most of the blinding euphoria had worn off, though he was now more turned on than jubilant, there was nothing in Alfred that wanted to exit this bathroom right now. Francis had stopped him from talking earlier, which was probably for the best considering some of the things Alfred had almost started confessing. God his mouth sure liked to run when he was excited. It left the agent feeling slightly uncertain about the 'why' of Francis stopping his words, but it was a small uncertainty to this. Maybe Francis didn't want to hear what he'd been saying, but seeing the other host standing in the shower like that made it clear that Francis at least wanted him in some manner. They'd find out if they were on the same page later.
He stripped down quickly, not putting on a show like Francis had and mostly trying not to trip out of his pants in his haste. Just because he didn't 'perform' during the disrobing didn't mean that the whole time Francis hadn't stared at him with clear appreciation. It probably made the tips of his ears go red, but thankfully the meager light wouldn't convey such colors clearly. There was no reason for his glasses in the shower, the lenses would only become spotty and fogged up, and so with his imperfect vision he stepped in the shower.
It wasn't the most spacious affair, the showers provided for the hosts in their private rooms, but it wasn't a terribly small or modest construct either. The day when Francis had been able to stand and stare at him showering from the doorway came to mind, a glimmer of embarrassment echoing back for a moment. The tile of the shower was slick, a muted beige and stony looking affair. It wasn't a shower/tub combo, the floor a perfect square with a drain in the middle, glass panels and a door creating two of the sides, tiles the other. A silver nozzle that could switch to hand-held mode sprayed water down in a steady stream.
Francis had backed away against the wall, the seducing smile on his lips, Alfred's washcloth held in his hands. While Alfred was stripping the other man must have used some of the body wash, for the cloth was covered in tiny bubbles that caught and reflected the dim blue light. Francis seemed to wait until Alfred closed the shower door behind him to move, beginning to trail that washcloth up and over his chest slowly. They were not the vigorous motions of a man trying to get clean... and Francis's attention was decidedly on Alfred's face, not on cleaning his own body.
Rather purposely Francis slid the cloth across his chest, his shoulders and up his neck, more like a caress than anything else. He relaxed back so that he was leaned against the shower tiles, and they had to have been warmed from the lack of chilled reaction the man made. Languidly Francis moved the cloth, tracing the contours of muscles highlighted by water. Alfred wasn't going to do it this time, wasn't going to sit and try to deny that he was attracted to this man. The painfully hard length he had on him was proof enough to remind him that he wanted Francis.
"I do recall I asked you in here to help me," Francis purred out, and the agent needed no further urging to close the gap between them. Their lips pressed together, the soapy cloth pressed against Alfred's back when Francis's arm snaked around him. The heat between them was amazing, no space left between their skin as they held each other and danced tongue and lips. Alfred's hands found their way into Francis's hair, the blond strands wet and slippery and almost tickling his fingers and palms. Francis pulled Alfred closer with his free hand, fingers wandering without inhibition along his side and hip. Wandering lower and making Alfred shiver despite the blaze between them.
It took almost everything Alfred had not to just start moving his body against Francis, and the slick bubbly body wash certainly made their skin slide so very smoothly. He kissed Francis for everything he was worth, the other host kissing back just as passionately as his hands moved. Alfred was slightly confused for a moment when he felt Francis press against him. It wasn't the other man arching into him, it wasn't submission, either. Francis was creating space, and reaching for one of Alfred's hands. If the agent could have found the will power to break their kiss, he might have questioned what Francis was doing. Instead he refused to let either of their lips grow lonely, feeling heady from the short breaths he could barely steal, the steam making the air heavy.
The wash cloth was pressed into Alfred's hand as Francis guided it lower, over his abs and closer to his thigh. The older host twined their fingers together as he guided Alfred's hand, as he traced paths and contours of pleasure. Francis shuddered as he brushed ever closer to the focus of his desire, and Alfred found his pulse speeding up at what seemed to be yet another lesson. Francis was showing him where to touch... how firm or light to caress, and Alfred found himself hungry and eager to learn every sensitive spot the other man had. It was with great pleasure that he took up 'washing' Francis on his own, and he wondered only vaguely if he'd ever been so concerned with finding a lover's erogenous zones before. It seemed his every sense was devoted to interpreting every sigh, moan or shiver he could get out of the other man.
"Ah... Alfred," Francis breathed out between them, breaking the kiss as his eyelids fluttered. The older man seemed to all but melt against the tile, and Alfred continued to stroke along Francis's thighs, his abdomen, every so often wrapping the slick cloth around his length and slicking it up and down. As much as Francis always set the pace, was in control and dominant, at this moment he seemed utterly at ease in the moment, pliant to whatever Alfred desired so long as the agent didn't stop his ministrations. It made Alfred's throat run dry for a moment, a sharp thrill shooting through his belly. He was certain that right now, if he wanted to... if he just reached and drew Francis's leg up... he could take the other man. Claim him and dominate him. Alfred grit his teeth, trying to suppress a groan at the thought and failing.
Francis opened his eyes just slightly, mere crescents allowing a lusty blue gaze to escape. Alfred tried to peer through the other man's lashes, catch a better look at those orbs, before he was distracted by the Cheshire smirk that crept over far too sensual lips. Francis even had the cheek to lick those lips, agonizing in how slowly he did so. Alfred wanted to dip forward and claim that tongue with his own. In fact... he did just that. Their lips worked together, teeth grazing every so often, taking little nibbles and tugs.
"Whatever you want Alfred," Francis whispered, voice nearly drowned out by the water that rushed over them. His lips were nearly pressed against Alfred's ear, however, his voice a tantalizing whisper. "I give myself to you tonight if you wish... or..." And Francis's voice took on a wickedly alluring tone. "You could let me show you why I'm the top host..." He gave Alfred's ear a slow lick, and Alfred accepted that he honestly didn't care how he had Francis, or if Francis had him. He tugged the man closer.
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Arthur's hair was still damp from the shower when he signed on to the video chat server. Truth be told... he wasn't really prepared to share the results of the undercover operation yet, wanted more time to compose himself, come to terms with what had happened. Considering how much he knew the others would be dying to hear his information, and considering the fact that his mind refused to reflect on his 'session' with Alfred... Arthur had decided it was best to just get the call over with. He'd cleaned up... god he'd needed that, and debated long and hard the merits of having a drink. Of course he couldn't have one, absolutely not. He needed his wits, because they'd just had a bit of a breakthrough, and he was determined to use this. Make momentum out of this visit. His feelings over this affair could simply wait, or rather, would have to.
It would have been comical, in a different situation, watching the others push and scramble to get into position on the other end of the net. No sooner was everyone settled and the connection secured that Lovino barked out his question. "Is he in there?" It was more of a demand, and the clear strain and worry in Lovino's voice made it shake and waver. The entire man's body seemed wired with tension, and Arthur was kind enough not to keep the man in suspense. He took in a small breath, looking between the images of Lovino and Ludwig, and nodded his head.
"Yes, I was able to confirm that Feliciano Vargas is amongst the hosts at the club, there against his will," Arthur paused, giving the two men a moment to absorb the news before continuing. "Though he's there against his will, he's doing alright..."
Lovino hissed in a breath at the news, eyes going very red and nearly tearing up it seemed. Antonio placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze when Lovino didn't swat it away as normal. Ludwig's straight posture never changed, but the way he snapped his eyes shut showed just how deeply affected he was by the news. It was good and bad all rolled into one, but at last questions were being answered. As the two men dealt with the news, Arthur looked at Matthew. The blond had his lips pursed, and Arthur knew just what he was waiting to hear. He gave an ironic smile.
"Alfred's doing just fine as well... it was he who I had my appointment with." The tension visibly melted out of Matthew's shoulders at that, and it warmed Arthur a bit, getting to see the result his news was creating. It further made it all worth it. He gave the other agents the time they needed to compose themselves. It was Antonio who spoke up first.
"So, it was Alfred, then, who told you Feli was ok?" Arthur nodded his head.
"Yes, he was able to positively confirm that, as well as the identities of some of the other hosts." Arthur watched as Antonio perked up a bit, snatching up a piece of paper so that he could write. Without any prompting, the blond began to recite the names Alfred had given him, taking care to pronounce the names as accurately as he could. "... and the final name I recall was Francis Bonnefoy-"
"Francis?" Antonio's brows shot up as he interrupted quite suddenly, and Arthur frowned.
"Yes..."
"Francis Bonnefoy?" Antonio's voice seemed rather incredulous, his hands lowering the paper and pen slowly. Arthur paused... doubting himself for a moment, before nodding slowly. Lovino seemed to be regaining his composure a bit, and looked up at the Spaniard.
"What, you know him?" Of all the things Antonio could have done in response, he ended up laughing, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes.
"I... I cannot believe it... that... that's where?" The agent laughed some more, not mirthfully, but laughed he did. Shaking his head, a strange look passed over the man. "Ah, pardon me..." he said vaguely, and quickly he rushed out of Arthur's limited sight. He watched as Lovino shouted at the other man through the video, but apparently Antonio was off to do something. Lovino cursed at him under his breath, and Arthur shifted his attention back to Matthew and Ludwig.
"Tell us everything that happened..." Ludwig asked, and despite the fact that it was a perfectly reasonable request, Arthur paled for a moment. Matthew seemed to notice, a worried frown hitting his lips. Arthur tried to rush to reply, not really prepared to face Matthew and his too intuitive nature. Still, the thoughtful expression Matthew wore as Arthur conveyed everything Alfred had learned showed that in time, Arthur would be forced to confess the full details of the encounter.
A/N:
Originally this was supposed to be the 'bonus' chapter. Then I took forever on it and decided that plot had better well show up, too.
So, in the course of the fic, we're going to see a new host 'hired'. We're getting close to that point, but problem is? I still haven't picked who it will be. I have it narrowed down, and if it matters to you at all, feel free to toss in your two cents. The story angles slightly differently depending on who I settle on.
Candidates:
Greece
Egypt
Hong Kong
Taiwan
Thanks (as always) for reviews. If I didn't reply to one you left, I do apologize. The review system has been a little wonky lately? For me anyway.
