13

Alfred kissed him really hard. He wanted to feel his lips in such excruciating detail that he would never forget them, even if he never got to kiss him again. Even if it was just right now, he wanted to remember it until he died. He'd wanted to kiss him since the moment he first saw him, after all. And still the rush of elation, the sudden otherworldly experience, was surprising. Shocked him from his very core. He kissed Arthur's lips with everything that he had. He'd never known how to do anything otherwise.

He pulled away after who-knows-how-long because he couldn't breathe. But he stayed close—he couldn't bear to move away, not even a little bit. He kept his forehead against Arthur's, his hands now on both his cheeks, the wet edges of their lips brushing. A hair between them, breaths that were the size of the universe colliding.

"Arthur," he sighed. He brushed the smooth, flushed skin beneath his eye, felt Arthur's eyelashes brushing his fingertips like feathers. In the silence, Arthur reached his own fingers up, and he put them to Alfred's lower lip. They were gentle and teasing and Alfred wondered if his lips felt anything like velvet. He puckered them and he kissed Arthur's fingers as they walked the paths laid before them. Taking those lands for himself, stealing Alfred's breaths and making them his own.

He leaned forward that extra inch and kissed him again. He kissed him harder this time, as hard as he could. There was desperation, longing—every single feeling that had been building since he'd first seen Arthur in that wheelchair—spilling into that kiss. He shut his eyes so tightly that he saw flashing colors in their darkness. He felt the vibrations of Arthur's groan and it sent him that much further into insanity. He held his face more tightly, dug his fingers up into the tendrils of Arthur's tangled hair. Alfred opened his lips to let Arthur swallow every breath, every word that was sitting on his eager tongue. He pushed it to taste every corner. Took a step forward until Arthur's back was to the wall, their chests pressed together, no place to go but toward each other.

Alfred tried to be gentle at first, but there wasn't much he could do to control himself. He ran his tongue along the outlines of Arthur's open lips, and then pushed in further until their tongues crashed in deep, heavy colors. Arthur's fingers gripped the front of Alfred's sweat-covered shirt. When his arms moved around to his back, he put strings in Alfred's skin and made him a puppet. Controlled him with the way that they danced, beneath his shirt along his bare skin, dug his fingernails in when Alfred tugged lightly on his hair and sighed into him.

"Ah, Al..."

Arthur leaned his head back against the wall and let his eyes flutter closed. His hands still gripped Alfred like claws. Alfred put his hands against Arthur's waist and then pressed his lips to his arched, pale neck. Could feel the silent vibrations and quiet movements of Arthur's body. Like he was dancing to the music of Alfred's breaths. He drew circles, painted pictures, sang songs against Arthur's skin. Felt the heat of Arthur's raspy breaths against his head.

He brought his head up for a moment and touched it to Arthur's.

"Arthur," he said again. He suddenly couldn't get enough of saying his name. "Arthur, are you okay?"

"Perfect," he replied. "You?"

Alfred smiled and kissed him again. Kissed him until he laughed and wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck. Alfred was working off instinct now. So, apparently, was Arthur. Before Alfred could do anything else, Arthur's hands slipped beneath his shirt and pulled it up, over his head, tossed it to the floor. Alfred laughed and brought his arms beneath Arthur's legs.

"Al—!"

He lifted Arthur's legs up, and they wrapped naturally and easily around his waist. Arthur was light (or maybe Alfred was just strong), and Alfred didn't have any problems holding him up against the wall. He kissed him while he held him up, letting his lips touch the tip of his nose, his cheeks, his fluttering eyelids, his forehead. Down to his jawbone, then he traced a river with his tongue down to his throat. As their breath mingled, Arthur pulled, and Alfred pressed his hips up against Arthur's. They groaned together, sighed out in the hidden, muffled pleasure. Alfred's hips swiveled slightly, and Arthur gave a deep moan.

"Alfred..." he murmured.

"Come on, don't do that," Alfred smirked. He reached his mouth up to brush Arthur's red, hot ear. "It drives me nuts."

"Oh, does it?" Arthur's fingertips hovered over Alfred's shivering, sweating skin. Ran up his spine, as he leaned forward and said Alfred's name again. Into his ear, his voice wet and heavy. "Alfred."

"Fuck, you're too sexy."

Alfred's body was shaking. Not because it was getting hard to support Arthur, but because it was swiftly driving itself mad with desire. He'd never imagined this kind of lust inside himself. He smothered Arthur's lips with his own, as if to drink up that sweet voice of his.

Suddenly, just outside the door, they heard footsteps.

"Shit."

Alfred lowered Arthur back to the floor, though he could hardly see anything without his glasses. Before they could find their bearings, the door opened. Alfred couldn't see what the person looked like—a man, perhaps? Not François...not Antonio, he didn't think. Another visitor to Lake Placid staying at the inn? Either way, the person was only in there for a few moments, before turning and walking back out without a word.

As soon as the footsteps had drawn out of earshot, Arthur and Alfred looked at each other, and burst into dizzy, uncontrollable laughter. Holding their stomachs, bending over, the nature of the situation becoming a little bit too much.

"I wish you could have seen the look on the poor bloke's face!" Arthur cried.

"I can only imagine it!"

"Like he'd walked in on a ghost or something!"

Arthur picked up Alfred's shirt from the ground, but he didn't hand it back to him. Instead, he put it on for him. Then he grabbed Alfred's glasses. Alfred's world shifted into clarity as Arthur put his glasses on for him, his face so close that their noses were nearly touching.

"Better?" he murmured. There were still tears at the corners of his eyes from the laughter, a small smile on his lips. His face red and flushed but happy, childish, beautiful. Alfred nodded and smiled back.

"Even if I know you're there, it's still nice to see your face clearly."

They grabbed each other's hands and went back up to their room. Before Alfred had even closed the door, Arthur was taking his clothes off—shoes, shirt, pants. At that sight, Alfred became rushed and his breathing became ragged and desperate. He threw his own shirt to the ground and reached forward and kissed Arthur again. There would be no interruptions this time. Only the wind blowing outside, the sun as it disappeared behind the horizon, the rippling of the lake. Arthur fell onto his back in the bed, pulling Alfred with him. He set himself between Arthur's legs and they couldn't seem to get close enough. Chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip, lips-to-lips, tongue-to-tongue, breath-to-breath-to-breath. Alfred put his hands to Arthur's face and brushed the hair back from his forehead so he could see his face clearly. His lips were parted and quivering and wet, his eyes sleepy and shimmering, his skin like the bleeding sunset sky.

"Arthur," he said again. His fingers traced down Arthur's arms and then grabbed his hands, pressed them down to the bed. Arthur opened his mouth but said nothing, leaving himself hanging and vulnerable beneath him. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

Alfred paused to kiss his lips because they looked so nice. Their legs were intertwining like tangled rope.

"Don't get weirded out, okay?"

"I can make no promises."

"I've wanted this since the first time I saw you."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

"Wanted...what? To fuck me?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Really? That's surprising. I must have looked like shit in that hospital room."

Alfred shook his head vigorously. He was suddenly very tired and affectionate. He put his lips down to Arthur's skinny, bare shoulder, and let his forehead fall against the pillow.

"You looked beautiful. Like, unfairly beautiful."

Arthur didn't say anything. But he squeezed Alfred's fingers.

"I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to touch you—god, that sounds so weird," he scoffed.

"Yeah, it does."

"But I wanted to get to know you." Alfred kissed his shoulder again, and pressed his lips longer.

"And? Now that you have, what is your verdict?"

"That I still wanna fuck you. But it's not just that anymore." Alfred's voice was lower, a bit more hoarse now. He felt Arthur catch his breath. "This must sound so crazy. I mean, we've only known each other a few weeks..."

"It's okay. I'm used to crazy."

"I want to brush your hair after you shower, and get the tangles out for you. I want to light your cigarettes for you. I want to buy you all the chocolate you could ever want, just to see you smile. You know? Have you ever felt like that? Like you've known someone for your whole life, even if you haven't, and you just...you want to make them happy. Do all the little things that you've noticed they like, because maybe it would convince them to love you back."

He'd let the world slip.

Love.

He hadn't really meant to say it (how could he know if he actually meant something like that? It had just slipped!), and now it was hanging in the air like the mist after heavy rain. He caught his breath, too. Neither of them said a word for about a minute, but it felt like longer than that. He didn't want to take it back, but he was afraid of how Arthur would react. Alfred hadn't even had this conversation with himself, and it was scaring him.

The fear dissipated when Arthur let go of Alfred's hands and wrapped his arms around his neck and hugged him.

"Yeah. I've felt that."

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I don't know."

"I don't really know what else to call it though, you know? What do you even call it when there's nothing in the world you want more than to see someone smile? Or when you just want to spend all of your time with someone? Isn't that love?"

"Probably."

"It has to be, right? Like, what else is there?"

"Wanting to fuck someone, I suppose."

"Sure, but I've got that, too."

"You're funny, Al."

"You think?"

"Yeah. And bold. And very brave."

"Like, in an annoying way?"

Arthur shook his head. Alfred could hear his voice in his ear, could feel his arms holding him more tightly and his hair brushing his cheek. He loved this feeling so much, so much, so very much.

"No, not in an annoying way."

"You know, I thought you hated me at first."

"I think I did hate you at first."

"What? Why?"

"Because you had all the energy and the strength that I didn't."

"That's a hero's job.

"Please spare me."

"Do you think it would be bullshit if I told you I loved you?"

"No."

"Okay." Alfred turned his head and kissed Arthur's cheek. "I love you."

"Why?"

"Jeez, don't ask me that!"

"You have to have a reason."

"Well, for one thing, you look like a fucking god."

"That can't be it. I'm too much of an arsehole for my looks to be worth it."

"Uh, well...can I be honest?"

"No, please, I love when people lie to me."

"Right, stupid question. Well, I think one reason is because you were the person who appeared in my life when it was spiraling out of control. Right place, right time kind of thing."

"That makes sense. But that doesn't really have anything to do with me. Based on that logic, you could have very well fallen in love with your nurse."

"That's true. But...I don't know. Explaining love is hard."

"I know." Arthur began to nibble lightly on Alfred's ear. His tongue ran along its edges, wet its outline, sent shivers of pleasure down Alfred's spine. "But I can tell you why I love you."

"Really?"

"Sure. For one thing, you never left me behind. Not once. Not even when you had the chance to escape and never look back. You took the one reminder of that terrible hospital room with you."

"I didn't think of it that way."

"Maybe not consciously." Arthur blew into his ear. "The hospital room, the fire escape, coming all the way out here...you went out of your way. That means something."

"Can I tell you a secret? I did it really selfishly. I did it because I wanted to spend more time with you."

"I don't care your intentions, really."

"Is that it?"

"No." Arthur paused, his voice hitched, when Alfred's tongue began to swivel against the skin of his shoulder. "You're bright and hopeful, even in the worst situation. So you helped me be bright and hopeful. Even in the worst situation. You never judged me, you just tried your best to help me."

"Come on, I bet a lot of people do that."

"You would lose that bet, love."

"What else?"

"As if you need your ego boosted," Arthur laughed. "Well...having you in that hospital room with me made a difference. Maybe what I feel for you isn't actually love, but some sort of strange nameless emotion that only exists between people who are sick and broken together. Maybe it could have very well been someone else, like an especially kind nurse or a different person in the bed next to me. But I don't think so. And I don't know what to call that emotion, so love it is."

"I think love is like a big umbrella, and there are different types that fall underneath it."

"Shakespearean, my dear."

"And I don't think it would've happened with anyone else."

"No?"

"Nope."

"I'll admit, that's a relief to hear."

"Maybe it's just because you're a super sexy model."

"Bite me."

Alfred actually bit him. Gently, on his shoulder. Arthur let out a yelp of pain and a burst of laughter, but he held on more tightly to Alfred's neck.

"Hey, Arthur."

"Mm, what now?"

"Can I fuck you?"

"I don't know, can you?"

"You know what, I've changed my mind, I don't want to anymore."

Arthur laughed and held on so that even if Alfred had wanted to escape, he couldn't have. Alfred laughed, too. They laughed together.

He bent down and he kissed Arthur so that he could drink his laughter. Arthur fell more deeply into the mattress and wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck, dug his fingers into his back and left his imprints there. As they kissed, snaked their tongues around each other and groaned into their lips, Alfred ran his hands down Arthur's bare, smooth body. It rose and fell in response to his touch, quivered slightly, while Arthur sighed out heavily, audibly. He spread his legs further so that Alfred could press his hips against his more tightly, his fingers tracing down Arthur's body. They moved along his chest, warm and light, and with his right hand he began to massage Arthur's nipple. In surprise, or pleasure (he hoped), Arthur pulled away from the kiss to groan, to suck in his breath. Alfred smiled-your face is so red, Arthur-and put his lips instead to his neck. He could feel, against his hips, Arthur rising up beneath his pants. Pleasure erupted through his body, so he kissed harder and he twisted Arthur's nipple.

"Fuck, Al," he breathed. He let his legs squeeze Alfred's waist, pulling him in tighter. Alfred opened his lips and moaned into Arthur's ear, his voice wet and dripping. As he watched Arthur's open lips, fluttering eyelids, quivering body, he moved his hand down to the rim of Arthur's boxers. He slid his hand down, teased Arthur's rising cock with his thumb. When Arthur's sigh left his open lips, heat spread through every inch of Alfred's body. He shut his eyes, tightly, for a few moments, and wrapped his fingers around the shaft. He pressed his thumb to the head, and pumped slowly, forcing Arthur's boxers further down. He took a moment to appreciate how weird it was to jack off someone wearing his boxers, but then the moment passed.

"God…" Arthur fingers clawed at Alfred's back while his body writhed in pleasure. His lips were wet and wide, his complexion rosy, his hair fanning out in every direction.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," Alfred moaned. Moved his hand a bit faster, rubbed the tip with his thumb. He leaned down and traced the line of Arthur's lips with his tongue, tasted every bit of him. Arthur opened his eyes and smiled, running his hands up and down Alfred's spine.

"Come-mmf-now, Al," he said, when Alfred's hand had begun pumping fast and hard and Arthur could hardly get the words out. He reached down and grabbed Alfred's wrist to stop him. "This hardly seems fair."

"Huh? What are you…?"

"I've said it-ah-before, haven't I?" He used his grip on Alfred's neck to help himself sit up. "I may be an asshole, but I'm not totally rude."

"I don't-"

Alfred's voice cut off when Arthur kissed his chest. Chastely, at first. Pressing his lips to his skin, legs still wrapped around his waist even as he sat up. Arthur was completely naked by this point. Alfred still had his shorts on. After a few moments, Arthur pushed against his chest with his thick, nimble tongue, traced a path from the center of his chest down toward his stomach. Alfred closed his eyes and leaned back, losing himself in the warm and tingling sensations.

"Mm," he sighed.

Suddenly Arthur's fingers were pulling down his shorts, his boxers, and his cock sprung up-harder than he'd even realized it was. Arthur ran his hands up to Alfred's shoulders and pushed him back, gently. Alfred let himself fall down to his elbows. He glanced down and saw Arthur, hands now beneath Alfred's legs, staring up at him. He licked his lips and smiled, and Alfred went insane.

"You're not the only one with experience, love," he murmured.

"Fuck."

Arthur closed his eyes and reached his tongue out, excruciatingly slowly-fucking taunting me-until it touched the head of Alfred's cock. It wrapped around him, wet and warm, and the sudden sensations combined with the expression on Arthur's red face as he did it sent Alfred into a whirlwind. Arthur took him in slowly, kept moving his tongue around and around as he pushed himself further down. He ran his tongue up the bottom, brought his lips back up and then bobbed down again. He went slowly, using one hand to hold his cock from the bottom and the other hand to squeeze into his thigh. Alfred couldn't take it. He let his eyes close and leaned back onto the bed all the way, hardly able to hear even his own breathy moans. He put his hands delicately into Arthur's hair and helped push him further, cocked his hips up. Slowly, to make sure he wasn't forcing Arthur to take in more than he could. To his surprise, though, when he pushed his hips up, Arthur leaned down and took all of him. All the way.

"Shit, you weren't-oh, god-lying," Alfred smirked. Instead of responding, Arthur squeezed his thigh and moaned while he moved his tongue in circles. The involuntary moan that left Alfred's mouth then was long and loud and he couldn't remember the last time he had felt such intense, intimate pleasure with someone in bed. He tugged lightly on Arthur's tangled hair. He started to move faster, taking Alfred all the way in and then bobbing up, sliding his tongue and releasing sensual, wet muffled groans. While Alfred closed his eyes and saw colors flashing, lost track of where he was and what he was doing, moving his hips and drinking in every sensation of Arthur's mouth.

"Arthur, fuck, don't-aah-don't fucking stop," he heard himself sigh. But, like the cruel asshole that he was, Arthur did stop.

"I can't let you come just yet," he smiled, breathing heavy and hitched. Alfred opened his eyes and looked up at him. "Didn't you say you wanted to fuck me?"

"So fucking badly," Alfred sighed.

"Do you have a condom?"

"In my...uh, in my bag, I think. Fuck, did I bring any?"

"Do you at least have lube? Hold on, wait, no, I think I have some."

They scrambled for their bags, but they were both shaking and it was hard to navigate in the warm darkness.

"Okay, yeah, I have a condom," he said, relieved.

"And I have lube."

"Gnarly."

"Shut the fuck up, Yank."

Arthur watched Alfred bite the condom wrapper open, grinning while he slipped it over his already-wet cock. When he was finished, Arthur handed him the lube, leaned back against the headboard and spread his legs. Fuck, he looked so fucking sexy, Alfred could hardly stand to look at him. But just before he squirted the lube out, he paused.

"Shit," he murmured.

"What is it now?"

"I...I haven't actually done this in...uh, in a while…"

"Oh?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and gave a crooked smile. He reached his hand out for the lube.

"Would you like me to show you, then?" he murmured. Alfred blinked at him, unsure of how to respond.

Arthur bit down on his lower lip and squeezed a sizeable amount of lube onto his hand. He spread it onto his fingers, settled onto the mattress, spread his legs out and kept his eyes fervently on Alfred's. Deliberately and evidently with experience, he brought his hand down to his ass spread his cheeks, and everything was there on display for Alfred. He shivered, despite how hot he felt. With his own fingers, Arthur began at the rim, moving slowly and squirming ever so slightly.

"Mm."

Arthur sighed as he put one of his fingers in, his toes curling. He went in deeply, bending and straightening his finger, groaning and squirming and still, always, keeping his eyes on Alfred. Giving him a show, it seemed, and Alfred was practically drooling. He put a second finger in and sighed again, harder, his breaths intoxicating. He was leaning back heavily now, touching himself and flushed from the pleasure.

"Arthur," Alfred murmured. He crawled forward on the bed and put his hand to Arthur's cheek. He turned into Alfred's palm, and Alfred's thumb traced his lower lip. "I must be fucking dreaming."

He kissed Arthur's lips and reached down to grab his wrist. Arthur began to nod, and he wrapped his slender arms again around Alfred's neck. Alfred put his hands against Arthur's waist and gently, nervously (why am I so nervous?) put the tip of his cock against Arthur's asshole. Before he even pushed in, Arthur moaned and arched his neck back. Alfred couldn't help but smile.

"Fucking hell, how long is it going to take you?" Arthur said, his voice hoarse. Alfred kept smiling, kissed him, and pushed in. He slid in with relative ease-Arthur wasn't terribly tight, and the lube helped. The pleasure, both physical and emotional, of actually being inside him were overwhelming. Alfred's forehead fell down against the headboard as he squeezed Arthur's legs, pushed until he was in all the way, driven forward by Arthur's unsteady, musical moans. As he slid his cock in, Arthur grinded down, pulling on Alfred's waist with his legs. There was no doubt that his fingernails were leaving marks in Alfred's skin.

Alfred hadn't been lying. It really had been a long time since he'd had sex with a guy. He thrusted, feeling the dripping tip of Arthur's penis against his stomach, and tried desperately to remember the trick.

Fuck, I've done it before, I know how…

He pushed in, moving the direction a little bit and going deeper every time. He couldn't admit to Arthur that he had actually forgotten how to hit the prostate.

How do you even forget that kind of thing? It just happens, right?

Their bodies quivered, pressing to each other as tightly as they could, as Alfred groaned and thrusted faster and faster. The pleasure was white and unfathomable. He kept shifting, desperate to hear Arthur's cries of pleasure when he finally hit the sweet spot.

"Harder," Arthur breathed, banging his head back. "Ah…"

Fuck, he's not feeling it enough.

He put one of his fingers to Arthur's nipple and twisted it, trembling when he moaned. He traced the outline of his ear with his tongue. All while he desperately pushed in, out, sweating and red.

"Al-god, Al," he breathed. Alfred tucked his hips under a bit more, pushed his cock in at an upward angle, and lifted Arthur's legs higher.

This is it, right?

He felt his cock graze a ball-shaped structure, and in the next moment, Arthur was screaming.

"Yes, yes, fuck, harder, there-ahh, Al!"

Alfred hit the same spot again. He hit it again, and again, over and over, as he felt himself approaching his own climax. To push Arthur just that much further, he reached down and grabbed his throbbing cock and pumped it, kept thrusting, moaned into his ear.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm-!"

They came at the same time. Alfred stiffened and pushed his hips up once more, gripped Arthur's hips desperately and cried his name. In the same moment, Arthur arched his back and his body trembled and he came over his body, over Alfred's body, over the sheets that they would now have to change.

They were breathless, sweating, glowing like morning stars.

Neither of them could really believe that it had happened, and that it had been so magnificent.

They had kissed each other and fallen into these sheets together, rolled around with groans and moans and hoarse breaths like animals, screams from their most instinctive selves ringing out in this stuffy room. They had fucked with fervor and with vigor and with intense, bright red passion. The words that spilled from their pleasure-driven lips were words of love and affection and, inevitably, pleasant confusion. They really weren't sure if it was love, but they didn't care, and were content with calling it that and falling into its mold. They loved each other in that bed, calling each other's names as their tongues did a tango and their fingers a tarantella.

I love you, fuck me, where's the lube, where's the condom, fuck did I bring any, oh here they are, Alfred, Arthur, harder, faster, are you okay, I'm wonderful, sorry I'm so sweaty, your glasses are crooked, you're so sexy, I love you, I love you, I love you.

They slept in each other's arms, and woke up in the middle of the night to fuck again, but almost didn't because Alfred couldn't find another condom. Arthur had one in his bag, a fact even he was surprised about. Neither of them questioned it.

When they were tired out again, they went to sleep and didn't wake up until one o'clock the next day tangled up and sweating and curled together, when the sun was already up and the lake already sparkling and the world turning once more.