Arthur doesn't start on his plans during the evening. Alfred shows up at his door with his overnight bag just before sunset, happy and grinning. Arthur had dropped Peter off at a friend's house for a birthday party sleepover, one that wasn't just around the corner. If things got ugly in either direction, at least he wouldn't have to worry about Peter and his innocence.
They spend the evening as they usually do – Alfred stealing his gaming systems or his wireless to be the teenager he was, Arthur studying for his classes at the kitchen table, them occasionally making brief conversation across the house. When Arthur runs out of things to study, though (which he didn't even think was possible), he puts his books away, takes several deep breaths, and joins Alfred in the gaming room.
Alfred glances up from his computer screen briefly. "What's up, Arthur?"
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" God, he sounds stiff. He sits down on the loveseat to hide some of his fidgeting as Alfred tilts his head in curiosity, but types a few more things on his laptop and closes it, sitting up and facing Arthur.
"What d'you want to talk about?"
"Alfred, how-" How long have you been eyeing me like that? How desperate are you? How long is your cock? How do you not think I'm a terrible human being? "-how do you feel about me?"
Alfred blinks, surprised at the question. "Well, I- I mean, I like you, of course." He pauses. "Why?"
"Because…" He takes another breath and slides down off the loveseat to his knees, leaning forward to rest his hands on top on Alfred's thighs, not breaking eye contact. Alfred's breath hitches. "I would really like to know before you leave."
Alfred looks like he wants to laugh from nerves, but he swallows it. "Well, I- I do." He places his hands over Arthur's and smiles shakily. "I really like you."
Arthur returns the shaky smile. "Good." He turns his hands over to grasp Alfred's wrists, pulling him closer as he says, "Then you wouldn't mind if I tried something." Alfred's eyes are wide, but he's not pulling away as Arthur lets his fall closed and he kisses Alfred softly on the mouth.
It's brief, just a test, but Arthur feels a spark of smouldering shoot through him before he pulls away just as softly. He opens his eyes and smiles, Alfred's face bright red and his fingers digging into Arthur's wrists.
"Can we…" He swallows. "Do that again?"
Arthur chuckles and presses forward, and this time Alfred tries to kiss back, easily pulling his hands from Arthur's to wrap around his waist and tug him closer. Arthur's blood races as it's returned, his useless affection is returned, and loops his hands around Alfred's neck, weaving his fingers in gold hair to hold him still and starts teaching him how to kiss.
Alfred is completely inexperienced, but extremely enthusiastic, as Arthur learns when Alfred's gusto makes them tip backwards and Alfred's body pins him to the loveseat. They break the liplock, laugh a little. Alfred's a little sloppy as he kisses down Arthur's jaw, his neck, hands sliding everywhere, but Arthur hasn't felt this level of burning in years and he never wants it to stop. He shifts his legs out from under him and bends them at Alfred's sides so he can lean back more, expose more to Alfred. One of Alfred's wandering hands holds one of them at the knee and wraps it manually around his waist, the other hoisting him up with a forearm along his lower back to sit in his lap. Arthur hooks his other leg around and pulls himself flush against Alfred, tilting his head back with the hands in his hair so he can kiss that mouth again. He pries open Alfred's mouth, turns his head almost sideways to dovetail them together. Alfred's breathing hard against his cheek, but his tongue ventures into Arthur's mouth. Arthur strokes it with his and slides a hand down the back of his collar.
He can feel Alfred getting hard under him, and he's definitely following suit. He pulls from the kiss. "We're not doing this in the game room."
Alfred grins, then it slips from his face. "What are we doing?" he asks in a small voice.
Arthur strokes down his face with the hand not resting on his spine. "Only what you're comfortable with, love." He leans forward and nips his earlobe, smirking a little. "But I'll be comfortable with anything."
Alfred shivers under him. "God, I've wanted this since forever." He slides, cheek to cheek, and takes in a breath. "So… bed?"
Arthur smiles and extracts himself from Alfred, standing. "As you like." He holds out a hand to help him up, and Alfred uses his momentum to crowd in too close, and he's actually a lot taller than Arthur – a lot taller than he thought. They smile and kiss again.
They hold hands as Arthur leads him out, and it feels too innocent for the situation, but it feels comforting, completing. When they get to the bottom of the stairs, though, Arthur walks right past them, then stops with a lurch as the body attached to his hand goes up.
They look at each other for a moment, Alfred two steps up, Arthur halfway through the door next to them, and they laugh. Alfred tugs at him and gets his way, walking up the stairs backwards, only faltering a little as he pulls Arthur up them and into the master bedroom.
"You're an idiot," Arthur says as Alfred flops down on his mattress (not the original mattress; he'd made sure to get rid of that before he moved in here years ago), taking Arthur with him so he was stretched out over him. Alfred grins, doesn't protest, and kisses him hard. Arthur chuckles and slows him down, working him down to an almost languorous pace, and they're rutting together now. Alfred pulls at his shirt, tugs it from the hem up, and Arthur sits up to take it off himself. Alfred grins dopily and slides a hand up his pasty side, and Arthur feels cheated.
He crawls off Alfred's lap to sit straight on his bed, raising an eyebrow at Alfred's curious look. "Well, come on." Alfred beams and throws off his shirt, undoing the snap of his jeans as he twists and falls over him, pushing Arthur into his pillows with vivacity, and this is much better than any lay Francis or the others ever gave him. He arches up into Alfred's bare chest, and they both stutter on their inhale.
"Ah-Arthur, how does this work exactly?" Alfred asks, gold hair hanging down and glasses crooked. "I mean- I- I don't-"
Arthur stops him and his flush with a hand on his cheek and a soft smile. "It's okay, sweet, I know it's your first time." He carefully takes Alfred's glasses off and reaches to set them on his night table. He pressed up to press their lips together, just for a moment. "If it makes you feel better, you chose a good teacher." Alfred smiles a little bashfully, ducking his head into the crook of Arthur's neck. He kisses what skin is in front of him there, and Arthur sighs and melts into his comforter.
And so it goes, softly into soft, Alfred a comfortable heavy over him, rolling hips and a wet mouth and blue eyes he didn't see because both of theirs were closed. They get their trousers off, and Arthur rolls them to the other side of the bed to get his lube and a condom. Alfred laughs at the roll, ending up under Arthur this time, but the sight of a bottle and a plastic square makes him trail off into nerves.
"Oh, uh." Arthur revels in how he squirms under him for a moment, watching him try to find the right words, before he smiles.
You're cute when you're uncomfortable. "Don't worry about that, love. You can top." Tonight, at least.
The relieved expression is worth it, and Arthur tugs down the waistband of his boxers to see whether the rest of the night will be as good as the first part.
Oh.
He looks up at Alfred incredulously. "How in the hell are you still a virgin?" Alfred's face burns, and he looks away.
"Never had anyone I liked enough," he mutters. Oh.
This is getting a little too tender. Arthur pulls a hand along Alfred's cock, making him arch and hiss, clawing at the comforter. Arthur stretches forward to kiss him as he jerks Alfred off, half-lying on Alfred. He moans into the kiss and holds Arthur in with a hand on the back of his neck, bucking into his hand already. "Don't-" Alfred doesn't let him pull away enough to finish his sentence, and he giggles as Alfred's fingers dance down his bare side. Alfred smiles against his mouth.
Arthur rears back so he can breathe, panting into Alfred's face, and he hasn't been this happy in sex ever. "Don't get ahead of yourself, boy." Alfred is still smiling at him, golden and shining.
"Well hurry up and do me." It escapes before Alfred can think, and he bites his mouth shut over any more. Arthur laughs and flips them over.
"I'd really much prefer it the other way." Alfred gulps and sits back so his hands are free, and Arthur reaches for the lube and presses it into his hand. "Come on, love. I'm not going to stretch myself for you."
Alfred blinks in confusion for a moment. "Oh. Right. That." He opens the bottle. "How much should I use?" He's so unsure.
Arthur takes hold of his hands, squeezes out a little too much, rubs their hands to warm it up. "One finger at a time," he says softly. Alfred nods jerkily and shifts so he's between Arthur's legs instead of straddling them, sliding off his pants and tossing them to the side before hooking one of Arthur's knees over his shoulder. He trails his wet fingers up Arthur's inner thigh, fascinated with his skin. Arthur bends back and grabs the headboard. He doesn't want to watch as Alfred sucks in a breath and presses his index finger in, doesn't want Alfred to see him cringe.
He's jerky and slow, but he nuzzles into the knee on his shoulder and presses sloppy kisses to it, the other hand rubbing slow circles into Arthur's hip. Arthur lets out a breath with his tension and eases his grasp on the headboard and rests a hand over Alfred's on his hip, flutters open his eyes to find Alfred watching him with an unbearably soft look. He closes his eyes against it.
"Add another," he gasps. Alfred licks his lips and pulls out his finger, crosses his middle finger over it, and pushes back in.
Of course it's uncomfortable. He scissors in him, pushing, pushing, and he's panting too hard, breath a little wheezing. "Does it hurt?" Alfred asks, looking worried. Arthur smiles at him.
"Yeah, but that's just part of it." Alfred bites his lip and stills a little in him, and Arthur snaps down to grab the wrist of the hand up his ass. "You're doing just fine for your first time." The corner of his mouth pulls up. "Don't stop now."
Alfred shudders. "Shit, okay." He scissors out, twists in a circle. Arthur moans and falls back, and Alfred's palm rolling into his pelvis slides over to wrap around Arthur's cock, broad and cautious. The leg over his shoulder tightens, jerking him in, and he lets out a small noise, then laughs. He twists his wrist back forth tortuously, and at Arthur's gasp of his name, adds a third finger carefully. He's being far too sympathetic with his stretching for a virgin, but before Arthur can ask, he grazes his prostate and stars fly into his vision.
He lets out a loud groan, rolls his hips into the fingers while Alfred stutters and tries to keep up. They find a short rhythm, but Arthur finds his words again and starts demanding like it's not Alfred's first time, caught up in the fire racing through him. Alfred's starting to take things in stride; he's always been a quick learner. His hands go away and Arthur whines, for a second, but the lack of Alfred starts his mind working again. He sits up on his elbows to watch Alfred struggle with the condom before taking pity on him and crawling forward to do it himself, lubing him up as well.
"For a virgin you're much more…" tender, caring, soft, the L-gerundive "empathetic than I expected."
Alfred smiles sheepishly even as his color rises, both from Arthur's attention on his cock and his implied question. "I've been curious in the shower a few times, so sue me." Oh Lord, this boy is a walking kink container.
Instead of saying that, Arthur makes a face. "Water's a terrible lubricant."
"Conditioner works pretty good, though." Arthur is taken by surprise at the quick and easy admission, then laughs a little. Alfred laughs breezily, too, and bends in to kiss him.
Arthur hums into it, content for the first time in a long while. They fall down back on the bed, and Arthur rolls them so he's on top, grins down at him, and holds Alfred's cock steady with one hand, bracing himself on that lovely abdomen and sinks down, letting out a long breath as Alfred curses and digs his fingers into Arthur's thighs, nails too short for damage.
Both of their eyes fall closed, and Arthur's suddenly aware of his surroundings – his parents' old room, dark sky past the gap in the curtains, quiet and cool behind past their breathing and sweat.
He ignores it, turns the thoughts away. Instead, he snaps his hips down all the way, up, starts a sharp rhythm that sends Alfred moaning under him and trying to join him.
They don't have space for words yet, just the sweat sliding down and the roll of the rhythm and skin on skin. With a jolt Alfred gets it and looks like the devil, which Arthur doesn't see as he's wanton and leaning back until Alfred surges up and forward, a clash of legs and an indignant squawk. Now Arthur's the one on his back, head two inches from a painful collision with the footboard and feet held in the air by Alfred. He's found his teenage enthusiasm and is thrusting forward carelessly, leaning into between Arthur's legs to kiss him hard, and Arthur would be laughing if it wasn't so painfully wonderful. The breaths with his name make it worse – it's been so long since he's been shown attention, affection like this, like something to be held, and he holds Alfred's shoulders to keep him right there.
He attributes the tears squeezed from his eyes to the burn. Alfred doesn't notice, too busy learning his taste and the flow of sex.
Alfred comes early, of course, with a shocked gasp and a fish-eye look. Arthur grunts as Alfred curls over him, buries his face in his neck.
"Shit," Alfred pants. He pulls back enough to see Arthur's face, smile at him, the endorphins too much for him to be disappointed. "Sorry 'bout that."
There's always been something about Alfred that makes Arthur smile. "It's quite all right." He trails his fingertips down his cheek. "I expected no less."
Alfred kisses him, but the feeling of him going soft inside Arthur causes Arthur to break it quickly and sit up, forcing Alfred to do the same. He crawls off of him, hissing as he slips out, then takes the condom off Alfred and ties it. He stands to go throw it away in the bathroom rubbish bin, ignoring Alfred's small cry of protest from the bed.
When he turns back around, Alfred is sitting on the edge of the bed, blue eyes still burning. "Come on, I'm supposed to help you, too." His eyes flicker down to where Arthur is still very hard, making Arthur flush for once as he steps forward. Alfred pulls him in between his knees and holds his face as he kisses him, and they've been doing far too much of that tonight for this to be casual.
Alfred takes him in hand, and Arthur decides he'll think about that after he gets off.
Alfred scoots back on the bed some so he can pull Arthur into his lap, kissing his chest as he strokes Arthur, keeping the rhythm he'd started before. It's nice, but it's tragically just not enough. He's had too much in his time.
Without warning, Alfred wraps his free arm around his waist and falls back, spinning them so that Arthur's nestled in his pillows with Alfred above him. "What do you want me to do?"
Arthur grins up at him, dragging a hand through Alfred's hair and mussing it further. "Let's see you put that mouth to better use than usual, hmm?"
Alfred grins – apparently losing his virginity made him leaps more confident – and starts trailing kisses down his neck to his chest.
After they're spent, Alfred curls into Arthur's side, head on his shoulder, and plays with his fingers while Arthur breathes in the scent of his hair.
"Arthur, where does this put us?" he asks in a small voice. Arthur sighs into his scalp.
"Where do you want it to put us, love?" he asks in return. Arthur doesn't listen to his heart ache. Alfred is young, promising, unattached. He's under no obligation to hold him down.
"Well, I'd really like to do that again, but…" A long pause as he gets his words in order and presses their palms together. "It'd probably not be a good idea to jump into a long distance relationship right off the bat."
Oh, right. He was moving to Scotland at the end of the month. Arthur entwined their fingers. "We'll do the fluff and nonsense now, get it out of the way before you leave, but I won't hold you to me when you go."
"We can stay in touch though, right?"
What on Earth did he do to deserve this boy? "Yes, of course."
The next few weeks are a cloud, soft sex when they can, bonding with Peter when they can't, even a date or two. But Arthur still has his job and school, and Alfred has friends to entertain and university to prepare for. Far before they've gotten their fill of each other, it's Alfred's last night in town. They spend the twilight on Arthur's front porch, watching the neighbourhood kids play – this time it's freeze tag – as they talk quietly.
"So, Skype?" Alfred asks. He taught Arthur how to use the program the other day.
"I suppose so." They're both leaning back on their hands, so Arthur barely feels bad for hooking his outside fingers over Alfred's. "No obligations, though."
Alfred looks back. "Right, same for you." They just absorb each other for a moment. "So what're you doing to do with Peter?"
Arthur sighs. "I think I'll take a few weeks off after this month. He's almost old enough to be home alone, at least for the afternoons, and Mrs. Selden already agreed to drive him to and from school." He smiles a little bitterly. "They're too good to me sometimes."
"I think they like being good to you." The boys start to realise it's almost too dark to see, so Arthur stands and jerks his head towards the door.
"Come inside for a tic." Alfred obliges, following Arthur in the door and around the corner where Peter won't run into them without warning, and shoves him against the wall, kissing him furiously, and Alfred holds him closer, desperately, memorising. They don't fall away until they hear the front door crashing open, and Alfred hugs him tightly, then leaves, not saying goodbye. Arthur can hear his and Peter's final farewell in the hallway, but he stays in his brother's old bedroom, forehead and forearm pressed against the wall until he hears him leave.
Days go on. Arthur and Peter adjust to life without Alfred, and after the first few days where Peter takes his new found liberty for the hour between his school and Arthur's to the messes, he settles down into, if not homework, at least less destructive habits.
Alfred has a great time at university. He's instantly liked and popular, partially for his good looks and accent, but also just for himself. Classes are a struggle, but it's nothing he wasn't warned about.
He and Arthur are almost scared to talk at first, but eventually one of them takes the plunge and calls. It's surprisingly easy to talk to each other – it's a person far away who doesn't care, doesn't judge, doesn't have ties, and it's liberating.
They hadn't been in love before, both of them knew that. They were attached, but it wasn't love.
By the time Alfred comes home for Christmas, though, it is.
Peter greets him when he comes over the day he gets back.
"Alfred!" he screams, delighted, jumping forward to squeeze his middle ferociously. Alfred holds his arms and the bag hanging off of one of them away from him and laughs, wrapping an arm around his neck and hugging him back.
"Good to see you, too, squirt."
Peter's screech sent Arthur into a panic in the kitchen, and he runs into the foyer holding a spatula and eyes wide. "Oh. Hello."
"That all you got to say?" Alfred is smiling, though, in a way that makes Arthur's face burn. He shoves at Peter's head. "Squirt, if you let me go I've got a present for you."
Peter jumps back quickly, bouncing and happy. "What is it what is it?" he chants. Alfred chuckles and digs around in his plastic grocery bag, pulling out a DS game with a plastic bow stuck on it.
He kneels down and hands it to him, eye to eye. "I thought this was awesome, so I figured you'd like it, too." He winks. "Have a field day, buddy."
Peter takes it impatiently, hugs him again, and runs up to his room to play it, leaving Alfred and Arthur alone.
"Well, come on in, don't let the heat out," Arthur fusses, brushing by Alfred to close the door and pull him inside. When he turns, Alfred grabs his upper arm and kisses him hard. Arthur shouldn't melt like he does, he's just a silly teenager, but in the four months he'd been gone, he hadn't been able to call up his old friends for that sort of evening without feeling like slime.
Besides, as he slowly realised over grainy webcams and text chats at three in the morning, he's in love with the boy.
They pull away slowly, and at some time they'd each gotten an arm behind the other's waist. Arthur uses his leverage to bring him into the kitchen, where he's trying to make pancakes for dinner. Alfred bites his lip at the blackened stack waiting on the plate by the frying pan, and quietly usurps the spatula.
Arthur leans against the counter next to him. "So."
Alfred dumps the pancake he'd left in the pan when he ran out to greet Alfred directly in the trash and poured some more batter instead. "So?"
"Alfred."
Alfred sighs, leans on his palms on the edge of the counter in front of the burners. "Cutting right to it, are ya?"
"It would make this better in the long run, so yes."
"Arthur, I-" He presses down on the pancake with the spatula, flips it, just something to do with his hands. He looks up, determined. "I love you, and I think we could work, if you wanted to."
Arthur's eyes widened with his slow smile. "Oh, Alfred." He slid up as close to in front of him as he could get without setting his sweater on fire, "I want to." He loops one arm around his neck, and Alfred giggles, voice cracking.
"Good! That's good, that's really good." Arthur rolls his eyes and pulls him down to kiss him.
Alfred doesn't stay for dinner, saying his parents want him there, but he gives Arthur the book on druids he'd gotten for his present and gets another few kisses and an attack of a hug from Peter and a promise to return tomorrow, definitely.
Arthur smiles as he watches Alfred kick snow across his lawn towards his house, then turns away from the window, humming an upbeat nonsense tune.
{A/N: I was going to wait until I finished my homework to post this, but... eh, fuck that.
Hope y'all enjoyed!}