So I wrote the Omake! I'm trying to work myself slowly up to writing proper smut, but right now, this will have to do. It's better than nothing and I had fun writing it, so... yeah. Fuck. I'm trying. That should count for something.

Enjoy! ;)

Arthur's parents were, quite possibly, the least subtle people Arthur knew. They'd left the house not ten minutes ago because "Oh no, it seems we're out of milk, we better pop out and get some, you boys behave!" Which was their way of saying, "We're going to give you some alone time, but we won't be too long, so you better not get up to anything too fun." Right at this moment, however, Arthur couldn't find it in himself to complain, lain out on his bed as he was, with his shirt removed and Alistair's suspiciously skilled mouth travelling down to his waistband.

Arthur smiled lazily as Alistair tangled their fingers in the string again, looking down at where he was looking up at him with lidded eyes and an equally lazy smile. Arthur pulled him up, kissing him soundly on the mouth as he wrapped his legs around Alistair's arse and ground their hips together. Alistair hummed out a moan into his mouth, returning the gesture and making them both gasp into the kiss at the exact same moment.

"Shit, Alistair," Arthur groaned, his hands like vices around Alistair's shoulders, "Shit, I'm so glad you're here."

Alistair nodded, planting a solid kiss on Arthur's lips, "Me too," he breathed, laughing out a moan as Arthur ground up on him particularly pleasantly. "Oh god," he muttered into Arthur's neck, "I wanna fuck you so badly," Arthur's breath caught in a moan, but Alistair kept going, "I wanna feel you. Feel you and your tight little arse."

"Fuck," Arthur managed breathily, "God, Alistair, me too, but there is no way we have time."

And in truth, Arthur wanted absolutely nothing more than to lose the jeans, ditch the dry humping, and get straight down to business. But there was absolutely no way he was getting caught with his pants down by his parents. He'd have to move out then and there. Granted, he was sure Alistair would take him in, but- well, now that he thought about it, it really didn't seem like all that bad of an idea.

They didn't speak for a while after that, their lips were much busier doing other things, like kissing and panting and moaning, because holy fuck could Alistair move his hips in the best ways. It didn't take long for them to turn into puddles of goo at each other's feet, completely at the mercy of each other as they turned desperate in their search for release.

It took Alistair whispering breathily into his ear, in what was more a moan than anything, "Come for me, Arthur, you little slut," for Arthur to throw his head back and gasp out Alistair's name, completely uncaring of the mess he knew he'd made of himself.

Arthur groaned out a breathless note as Alistair continued to press down into him, and he brought Alistair's face up to look at him, his eyes glazed over and desperate and oh fuck I'm completely doomed. He readjusted his legs around Alistair's hips, wiggling his own and making Alistair moan, "Come on, baby," he said his words a little slurred in the presence of Alistair's still pressing hips, as Alistair sucked in a shaking breath, "I wanna see that handsome face screw up and call my name."

And that's exactly what he did, his hips juttering against Arthur's, until he collapsed, utterly boneless on top of him. And really, Arthur would have been content to stay that way, had he been able to breathe and had the wet feeling in his pants not become rather unpleasant.

He smiled, pushing at Alistair's shoulders, "Get up you lout," he said lazily, "We can cuddle when we don't have cum in our pants."

Alistair groaned, but rolled off of him, "Okay, fine, ruin the moment," he said playfully, rising and wandering over to his suitcase for a fresh set of clothes.

Arthur watched as he did so, his eyes glancing over the way the string grew to accommodate the distance between them, interesting, but not as interesting as Alistair's bare back which had several red lines and crescent shapes carved into it which was entirely too satisfying. Alistair didn't notice his lack of movement until he was about to pull his jeans down over his arse. He raised an eyebrow, "Like what you see?"

Fuck the smug prick, but... "Of course," Arthur as good as leered, because Alistair really wasn't unattractive in the slightest. And the fact that he'd rather clearly been working out really didn't hurt matters.

Alistair smiled a little smugly at that, "Well you were the one who said we didn't have time," he said, pulling his jeans down all the way, and oh my god he has freckles on his arse. Not many, but very prominent, and absolutely fantastic for reasons Arthur couldn't fully articulate.

He slipped off the bed, and came up behind him, pinching one of the tiny brown dots, "Nice freckles," He grinned, ignoring Alistair's comment in favour of seeing the frown and slight pink tint that came to his face.

Before he could reply, there was the distinct sound of a door opening and closing downstairs and Arthur's parents calling out that they'd returned. "Shit, they're home, get some trousers on you twit."

Alistair rolled his eyes as Arthur fumbled over grabbing himself a new pair, pulling his own on, along with the shirt he'd been wearing beforehand, the two of them slipping out the door and downstairs together in record time.

Two more things Arthur now knew about Alistair MacDonald.

The first: he had freckles on his arse.

The second: if he made one more (un)subtle innuendo, Arthur was going to make it his personal mission to sew his mouth firmly shut.