This was it. Now or never. He had been planning this night for ages.
After a week of careful scheming and plotting, Arthur was ready for the last and final touches. The plastic shopping bag had been dropped on the bed in his haste, every other move swift and calculated. He had only about an hour, he reminded himself as he folded the blanket neatly to reveal the white sheet beneath it.
Perfect camouflage.
A wide smirk framed his lips as he sorted through the bag, fishing out the small tubes before stashing the rest in his bedside table, placing the selected pioneers on the bedding beside him. A box of tissues from the dorm bathroom added a final touch.
Now, all he had to do was take the sign and- there. Done. Alfred had a way with designing their 'Do Not Enter' sign, Arthur noted as he hung it on the doorknob before closing the door. The skull would look quite intimidating if not for the American flag drawn behind it.
Now that the big oaf was out on a date with some tart he met on campus, Arthur could finally allow himself a satisfying, luxurious wank.
There was no annoying presence to get in his way or barge in unexpectedly, no roommate to pester him for help with his coursework or drag him to some eatery against his will. No, this was his night and he was going to bask in privacy.
He settled himself on the exposed sheet, sighing softly as he looked down at the bed. The lubricants he had purchased were of a more fancy line than he usually treated himself to.
Arthur would usually settle for an unscented clear substance, but these were supposed to be special with a flowery fragrance and a creamier texture. They had cost a bit more than he had been planning on spending, but the idea of him using them quickly overcame his inner scrooge and opted for a variety pack. He hoped they were going to be worth it.
A sound outside the door made Arthur freeze, eyes fixed on the thin wooden barrier between him and the world. The laughter faded soon enough, however, and he scowled, massaging his temples in frustration.
He had waited so long for this, it would be a waste if he were to jump at every little rustle or movement beyond the door.
It would be ridiculous if he were to use earplugs, though, Arthur argued to himself.
He needed to belt up…or just get on with it before he lost his nerve.
Out of habit, Arthur cast a quick glance at the empty bed on the other side of the narrow room only to chastise himself that there was no need. He knew that Alfred was out. He was very much alone.
Then what are you waiting for?
A somewhat trembling hand (for heaven's sake, he needed to get a grip, quite literally) hesitantly hovered over his crotch, steadying his breathing as he closed his eyes. It was all too easy to lose oneself and block out your surroundings once you had your eyes closed.
Now that he was free to focus the majority of his attention on his fifth sense, Arthur recognized the bleeding of warmth into his trousers from his palm. It was likely the result of tension and anxiety, but it felt…nice.
His confidence slowly claiming ground, Arthur settled his hand squarely on his lap, enjoying the weight and warmth on his crotch. He could feel his back muscles relax against the wall as he spread his fingers, pressing his palm firmly against himself and exhaling.
He could do this. He needed this. His palm started to move, maintaining the pressure it was applying against himself as Arthur dug the heel of his hand against his clothed crotch.
A few minutes of rubbing and pressing later found Arthur Kirkland with a flushed face and an interest- piqued cock. The desire to be touched directly was slowly getting the better of him, and the hand that grasped the zipper of his trousers and quickly pulled it down was full of enthusiasm that hadn't been there before.
The button was undone as well before he grabbed the material at his hips and pulled them down, arching his back and lifting himself up just enough to shimmy out of his trousers and, immediately afterwards, his pants.
Most nights he wouldn't bother with them, but if he was already at it, he might as well do it properly. Besides, he wanted to wear those later on.
Completely exposed to the cool evening air, Arthur shivered, suppressing the urge to cross his legs.
Summer was usually accompanied by warm, if not humid, weather, but the nights tended to cool down quite a bit. His torso was still warm, however, sporting a light blue t-shirt. The contrast between his upper and lower halves was somewhat uncomfortable but the situation would change very soon if his hand had any say in it.
Arthur glanced back down next to him, scanning the labels on the tubes before picking one up and doing away with the cap. Squeezing the tube resulted in a generous amount of a cold glob on his left palm that smelled slightly like rosemary.
Not the most sensuous fragrance, Arthur supposed, but he liked the mystic associations with the scent. It suited him and after all, he had only himself to please that night, so he might as well use something he enjoyed.
He dropped the tube back onto the bed and clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms together a few times before feeling the warm friction. With his hands fully greased with relatively warm goo, Arthur adjusted himself against the wall, finding the most comfortable position before leaning back and swallowing thickly.
He was ready, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to enjoy this.
Two hands wrapped themselves languidly around his cock, stalling with a hitch of the breath before squeezing softly. He throbbed in response. Licking his lower lip thoughtfully, Arthur pulled his hands apart, dragging one to the base while the other migrated up north to the head, waiting a few moments before making them glide back to each other and meet halfway, quickly returning to their stations only to repeat the action a number of times.
The hand at the base finally relinquished its' place and shifted to cup the sacs beneath it, squeezing while the other continued to pump the hardening flesh. Arthur's breathing was turning shallow while his mind was focusing on pacing his hands.
He wanted to keep his movements slow- this wasn't a hasty wank beneath the covers. He was going to draw this out for as long as he could.
With his hands working mechanically, Arthur leaned the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes once more, free to conjure fantasies and scenarios for his own personal pleasure.
Fleeting images of faceless models flexing their muscles in a swimsuit advertisement in a magazine Arthur had read the day before passed through his mind, rejecting them one by one.
He wanted something more tangible and realistic, not some body perfected by Photoshop.
Before he could stop himself (as if he would have wanted to) Arthur was going over the faces of his classmates, listing names and conjuring figures he had admired during his lessons.
Ludwig had really nice thighs, come to think of it, and weren't Antonio's arms to die for? The face of a certain Frenchman came up and lingered a few moments before Arthur waved the bloody thing away. He could have Francis any day- why waste his time fantasizing on what he'd already done before?
No one seemed to fully grasp his interest however, much to Arthur's disappointment. His hand was beginning to move faster if only to supply some stimulation, but without a proper image all of his preparations and planning would have been for naught. His mind was usually quite efficient… at the wrong times.
A pair of blue eyes appeared unbidden in his mind's eye. Something about them made Arthur's breath hitch, releasing the first real moan of the night. They looked right through him, seizing him up hungrily in their possessive stare.
A pair of arms- strong, warm arms- accompanied those baby blues, holding Arthur close in their firm grasp.
Just like he had seen them do with countless women before.
He would have groaned at his desperation. How cruel could he be to himself, fantasizing about his roommate? His inevitably handsome, strong and very much straight roommate?
Arthur had sworn to himself the first day he met him that he wouldn't ever think of Alfred F. Jones as anything but a pest he had to live with. But there he was, wanking off to a serene smile and messy blond hair the moment he let his mind wander.
Might as well. This is the closest I'll ever get to him, anyhow, Arthur reminded himself, disregarding the bitter undertone and returning to the arms that were trailing down his back.
Those large warm hands splayed over his ass, squeezing the supple flesh as the owner of those marvelous palms muttered dark, dirty words in his ear. It being Arthur's mind, he allowed himself artistic license to refine some of the more common phrases.
If only you knew what I want to do to you, you dirty slut…those pretty legs of yours wouldn't be able to carry you an inch after I've fucked you into the mattress…you like this, don't you?
It shouldn't have been as arousing as it was to Arthur.
There was a charm in giving up control and being treated like a common whore by such an able man, even if it was only in his dreams. The body that was pressing him against the wall, the mouth ravishing his own and marking his neck, the knee strategically pushed between his own legs…those all felt more real than some of his wildest experiences in the past. He yearned for them to be real.
His hand continued its' pumping vigorously, gliding over his slickened length in a quick pace. Precum was already dribbling down from the tip as it was, and only served to ease the task for Arthur's hand. A raspy moan escaped his lips, but Arthur was beyond caring. He was almost there, just a bit more-
Click.
Everything froze. He had been loud, but not that loud to have drawn attention, surely. Arthur's eyes remained closed, refusing to acknowledge the intruder. Whoever they were, they'd most likely get the hint and retreat, leaving him alone to finish himself off quickly and demurely.
There had gone his carefully planned night.
He waited, but there was no sound of hurried footsteps and a closing door. The silence hung heavily, playing on Arthur's nerves. He never should have done something like this- he never should have taken the risk.
Now the whole dorm would hear about this and he'll be ridiculed for the rest of the term and why weren't they leaving?
Only someone without an iota of tact would have remained there and, a few moments later, sit down on the opposite bed if Arthur were to judge by the loud creak. It was quite ridiculous to keep his eyes closed by then- whoever it was, they wanted to confront him and curling himself away into the corner was not an option.
Carefully, he opened his eyes.
He should have known. Who else would have been as oblivious to the situation at hand?
But lord, he didn't deserve this. Not after the wild thoughts that had roamed freely through his mind. The last person on earth he wanted to encounter was the one he had been fantasizing about so vividly.
Karma was a bitch, though, and sitting silently in front of him was Alfred F. Jones.
Neither of them spoke. The hand still holding Arthur's cock tightened its' grip out of reflex, eliciting a surprised and aroused gasp.
Heat radiated off his face, and his cheeks must have been a bright, vivid red, Arthur was sure.
He was an embarrassment. Alfred was surely analyzing him like one of his science projects and officially classifying him as a freak.
Next thing he'd know, the other man would ask to switch rooms with someone and with Arthur's luck his new roommate would be French.
It was just a matter of time before Alfred would get up and leave him to dwell. The thing was, though, Alfred wouldn't move. He had a curious look on his face, now that Arthur dared study it properly. There was a ghost of a smile as well as a light blush. Oh. He hadn't taken into account that his roommate would make fun of him.
Arthur was about to open his mouth and snap at the oaf to leave the room and had he never heard of privacy when he spotted movement from the corner of his eye.
A lazy, knowing smile stretched across Alfred's face as he raised his hand to the front of his jeans, wasting no time on unzipping himself and, to Arthur's shock, pulling out his cock.
"If you were having a masturbate-athon you should have told me, man," Alfred chuckled, giving his length a few quick pumps. "Jerking off alone sucks."
Arthur's throat went dry and he simply nodded, not caring to compose a coherent response.
Lord, how many nights could he have spent rubbing himself to completion while watching Alfred do the same? He was perfect.
Even soft, his roommate was clearly well endowed. A spark of interest in his own cock reminded him of his now rather painfully drawn out erection. His hand sprang into action once more, following Alfred's lead and stroking himself with a trembling palm.
He wasn't sure where to look. This was the first time he was presented with the concept of wanking off in another person's company. Were you supposed to look at each other, or was it immodest? Was watching the other's face contorting in pleasure allowed? Was he supposed to cover himself up somehow?
Alfred did no such thing, though, and had taken to grinning at him between grunts. He was truly beautiful that way, Arthur noted while dragging his nails against his skin testily. He wanted this to last, more than ever.
The other's breathing had slowly become heavier and his eyes had a bright, glossy sheen to them behind his glasses. Perfect.
Not to mention that cock. Oh dear lord in heaven, that prick was glorious.
Now aroused and in all its' glory, Arthur couldn't help but stare. His mouth felt rather empty as he observed the sheen of sweat above the thick veins, admiring the sheer girth of the man.
He must have been a bit too obvious, however, since when he raised his eyes he found Alfred smiling smugly at him.
"Big, huh? The chicks love it. You ain't too bad yourself, y'know," he gestured to him with his chin, sighing softly and leaning back against the wall. "The girls would totally dig you if not for your brows. You should really do something 'bout them, Artie."
Arthur's face flared, but not because of the last remark- it flew completely over his head- but from the notion that Alfred had been checking him out as well. He swallowed thickly, grumbling some sort of response he didn't care to clarify even to himself as his hand went quicker, stroking himself into oblivion.
When he came, it was with a small cry, releasing all over his hand. He arched his back, breathing raggedly as he continued pumping himself, milking his orgasm for all it was worth. Something had to have appealed to Alfred since a few moments later he came as well, groaning quietly before slumping down onto the bed.
For a couple of minutes heavy breathing and the occasional grunt were the only sound in the room.
It was Arthur who took the initiative to return to the land of the living, straightening his back and reaching for the tissue box on the bed. After wiping himself dry he threw the box to his roommate, busying himself with his clothing while the other cleaned himself in silence.
Generally avoiding Alfred's gaze, Arthur stood up from the bed and gathered his equipment, dumping the bottles of lube in his drawer and getting rid of the soiled tissues. He had the distinct feeling that someone was watching him and it made him overall uncomfortable.
When he gathered the nerve to look in the other's direction, Alfred was zipped up once more and was approaching him swiftly.
It took him a moment to realize that his roommate was only disposing his mess in the trash bin next to him, but he had brushed up against Arthur as he did so and ruined the Brit's train of thought. Lovely. From when had he been so nervous?
"Er, I guess I should get going. Amber said she'd be meeting me later," Alfred broke the silence, rambling on about who Arthur assumed was his newest fling.
The sound of her name, however, brought him back to the harsh reality he had been trying to escape before. Despite whatever had occurred between them during the past half hour, Alfred was still very much enamored with those of the female persuasion and would never look at Arthur twice. The only time he'd be looking at his cock with interest would be to compare the two of them.
"…do it again."
Arthur's eyes snapped up to meet the other's, his attention back on his roommate's words.
"What was that?" he asked cautiously, flinching at the biting tone in his voice. With him it wasn't as much of a problem of 'thinking before you speak' than using the right tone.
Alfred didn't seem fazed by his manner at all and simply smiled at him in that infuriatingly way of his and repeated his words.
"I was just saying that we should do that again sometime."
And then he left.