Chapter Nine: Arthur's Secret
A/N: Just noting this but, the circus doesn't really start until the late 18th century, whereas my story takes place in roughly 1726…just so you know. Within this story the circus and a freak show are combined.
A/N2: I thought this chapter was going to be short when I did the outline…it's not. Probably the longest chapter so far; so far in fact that I had to cut the end off and make it a flashback in the next chapter.
Arthur sat neatly on his bed, his hands folded in his lap. He was waiting for Francis to return with dinner from the upstairs shared kitchen down the hall. He twitched slightly, the pain still circulating through his figure, especially in the lower area between his buttock and hips. He yawned tiredly, having gotten no sleep.
Francis returned with a grin and a plate of sandwiches.
"J'ai revenu!" He said, announcing his return. The peppiness in his voice made the Brit smile.
"Let's see," The Parisian laid the plate on the work desk, "We have cold meat between bread and…oh, this one has an egg between bread…"
"I'll have the meat one." The Englishman said, without waiting for Francis to finish.
"Arthur," France looked at him, sincerity and concern reflecting from his solid blue eyes, "are you alright?"
Arthur looked up, "Oh, of course. Why would you think otherwise?"
"Well for one, you didn't get any sleep."
Blast all…the Frenchman noticed. Not but three days ago the pair had begun to share a bed on a regular basis. Arthur would huddle on the left side facing the wall, and his roommate would snuggle up on the other side.
Francis continued to stare with the same concern as if to say he did not believe Arthur.
"Look," Arthur changed the subject, "Why don't we go out today. We'll do something fun!"
"Did you have something in mind?"
"Um…" Arthur thought for a moment. He suddenly remembered a flyer he'd seen advertising a circus coming to town. Why such an event would be put together mere weeks before Christmas was beyond him, but perhaps it was to distract Londoners from the bitter cold. "We'll go to the circus!"
"There's a circus?" Francis blinked.
"Yes!" Arthur grinned, "There'll be all sorts of strange attractions, like bearded ladies and midgets and all kinds of strange people."
Francis frowned, "And this is amusing to you?"
Arthur mirrored the frown. Was the Parisian upset with him?
Francis shook his head and smiled, "Ok, if that is what you would like to do, then we should go. I should probably see this carnival first before I berate it."
"Well then, let's hurry and eat so we can go!"
Francis and Arthur sat on the wooden bench under a large, red tented structure. They watched a group of horses race around the track, jumping over poles and through hoops. Their eyes dazzled in surprise of the acrobats and their ability to keep balance on high wires and suspended, moving swings. They applauded at the effort of a young man who juggled three torches, blazing with fire – that is, until he tripped on a rock. Luckily he wasn't hurt.
As the show ended, they stood up chatting excitedly to each other about the performances.
"The horse race was splendid, but it still doesn't beat an afternoon at the Jockey Club." Arthur laughed, gesturing to the newly formed organization for professional horse racers.
"I have never seen a horse race." France smiled politely.
Arthur was aghast, "How could you possibly have never seen one! Your parents are rich, aren't they? Surely they attend races in the countryside! Or at the very least have horses of their own…"
"Oui," Francis responded, "They have horses, but they are more into refined arts than sports."
"Well, dammit all, even my father went to the races." Arthur turned, squeezing through the crowd out of the tent.
Francis followed behind him, "Maybe we can go together sometime."
Arthur looked back at him, slightly sympathetic, "Yes, why don't we."
They trudged along, looking at various exhibits. The first one was of a hermaphrodite, which Francis found rather intriguing. He made a quick sketch of it, thinking he could use it in a future story somewhere. The second was just as interesting; a midget man from South Asia, brought all the way from India in chains because of his "wild" behaviour. Francis was not as impressed with this one, feeling a sense of compassion for the miniature adult male.
"Step right up! Step right up! Come see the lobsterman! Is he a fish, or man! You decide!"
The screaming carnie caught Arthur's attention as he waved his tri-cornered hat. Arthur tugged the end of Francis's burgundy frock coat like an excited child, motioning him to move to the next show. Without question Francis followed leaving the small person behind, following Arthur.
The two stared at the figure for a while before Arthur laughed, "Poor fool, he probably doesn't even know what's going on. The dumb thing."
The look he received from the Frenchman was rather surprising. Francis did not look happy with the Brit's comment at all, "I don't understand. One minute you seem compassionate, the next you're just as stupid as the rest of crowd."
Arthur's grin dropped off his face. He was left speechless.
The Parisian exhaled, rubbing his head, "I'm sorry…I'm just trying to understand you and your people."
Looking back at the freak on display he frowned, "I don't find any of this amusing at all. I pity these poor people. They are jested and laughed at like they aren't even human."
"Oh," Arthur couldn't think of anything more to say.
"Do you believe that too?" Francis looked at him, fearing what the response might be.
"I'm…not sure." Arthur replied. In truth he did feel some empathy towards these creatures, but in a world where they were meant to be gawked at on display it was hard to convey these feelings without being looked down upon for indifference.
"I think maybe we should go," Francis cut into the silence, "I'm feeling rather uncomfortable here."
"S-sure…" Arthur followed Francis as he made his way out of the crowd and off the fairgrounds.
Without saying a word the two Europeans found themselves shuffling home. No one had suggested they go back the flat, but both seemed to automatically assume it was best place to be heading.
Opening the door, Arthur stepped instead with Francis behind him. He shut the door before taking off his gloves and scarf.
When he had finished putting his outdoor winter attire away he made a friendly suggestion to break the tension, "Why don't we play a game?"
Francis was still in a slightly disappointed mood, "Well, I suppose that's better than doing nothing."
"Right then," Arthur went to the large, wooden chest at the end of his bed. He opened it up pulling out a light wooden box, "How about chess?"
The Parisian looked up, staring at the box. At first Arthur worried he had no interest, or didn't know how to play, but Francis smiled cheekily, "Ok, but I should warn you I'm very good at this game."
The Englishman smirked back, "Well, good. I've been looking for a strong opponent. There's not a man in London who can beat me in chess."
Francis laughed boldly, "You exaggerate! You couldn't possible know everyone in this city."
Arthur narrowed his eyes, "I know enough of them to know how much better of a player I am!"
Francis calmed himself into a polite smile, "Ok then, let's see who will win."
Arthur set up the board placing all the pawns and pieces into the right spot. He elected himself to play black, while Francis took white.
In the first game, Arthur was soundly beat. He was appalled that there was someone who could not only rival his strength, but surpass it. Determined, he started another game only to lose again. On the third attempt he managed to close the margins, but was still defeated.
"Argh!" The Brit nearly tossed the wooden board and all its pieces up in the air, "Blast all! How can I be losing?"
Francis ran his hand through his hair and beamed, "Well, I told you I was the best, didn't' I?"
"One more!" Arthur jumped out of his seat, pointing an accusing finger at the Frenchman, "I'll beat you this time, I swear it!"
The Parisian sighed and shrugged, "Ok, if you really want to lose again that badly."
The fourth and final battle was a long drawn out one. At first Francis was dominating the board, but Arthur managed to find a way to crawl back, putting Francis' king in jeopardy. Stuck in a tight spot, Francis found it rather difficult to avoid checkmate and so threw his hands in the air, declaring his surrender.
"I DID IT!" Arthur flew up triumphantly, "I knew I could beat you!"
"Yes, yes," Francis agreed, not seeming to care at all that he lost. He watched his roommate prance around the room, swinging his fists with cheer, singing aloud about his victory. The scene made him at peace inside, but also in the depths of his soul, and loins, excited. Standing up, he walked over the Englishman, grabbing onto his wrist, stopping the happy dance and song.
"Uh…" Arthur blinked, staring into the Frenchman's eyes, "What…are you doing?"
The other man smiled sharply saying, "I'm sorry Arthur, but I cannot help myself. You are too much of an exquisite thing."
Before the Brit could return a comment or question he was silenced by a deep kiss on his lips. He flinched in fear, jerking his wrist out of Francis' hold and scuttled backwards, nearly tripping. He paced himself in reverse stopping in the closet/bathroom.
Francis blinked, rather shocked, "Arthur? Are you ok?"
Truthfully, Arthur was not ok. He didn't mean to insult Francis, but the memory of his rape was too vivid to ignore. He never wanted to be touched like that again.
"Arthur?" Francis renewed his question, looking more concerned than before.
"I'm…fine…I-I just…" He trailed off not wanting to have to relive those dark flashbacks.
"You're not." The Parisian grabbed Arthur's shoulders, holding him in place. He could feel the Brit shaking in his grasp, which worried him even more, "Please tell me what is wrong. If you are really upset about it I won't touch you. I won't ever touch you."
"N-no," Arthur looked away, trying not to blush, "That's not it. …I mean…it's not you."
"Than what?" Francis stared deep into Arthur's eyes, looking for some sign of an answer.
"It's nothing. Nothing to worry about."
The Frenchman gave his English counterpart a solid shake, "Tell me now!"
Arthur looked at him, stunned and wordless. The look made Francis ashamed of his actions. He quickly apologized taking his hands off the Brit and stumbling backwards, hitting the wall beside the door leading back to the main room. He slid down, sitting still on the floor.
Rubbing his shoulders quickly, Arthur made his way over to Francis kneeling beside him, legs sprawled out on either side of him, bum on the floor. There was a strong look of sadness in his eyes. After a minute he finally collected the courage to speak, "He found me."
Francis looked up, "Who?"
"Hitchen. He found me and…did things to me." Arthur looked up frantically, quickening his words as though he were trying to emphasize how blameless he was, as if someone was going to accuse him of some wrongdoing, "I told him not to but he insisted! I didn't want to, Francis! I didn't! But he didn't care! I couldn't do anything to stop him! He just…he just…"
Francis' heart broke watching the Brit dissolve into tears. He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Arthur bringing him to his chest as he moved backwards again towards the wall, Arthur scrunched up with him. Listening to the sobs, he gently placed his head onto the others, rubbing his back.
"What did he do to you, mon amour?" The Parisian whispered faintly.
Arthur was too embarrassed to say it directly, but realized it would tear him apart inside if he didn't, "He…had carnal knowledge of me."
Francis stopped rubbing Arthur's back, feeling a demoralizing sadness sweep over him. He had hoped he would be the first to ravish the Brit in an intense orgasm. Sure, he had sucked him off, but that was nothing compared to the physical dance of love he wanted to share with his partner.
"I will stay with you by your side forever than."
Arthur looked up, peering with an innocent childlike curiosity at the man holding him.
"I won't ever let him do that to you again. I will make him suffer for ever having even looked at you." France's words were sharp and filled with rage as he combed Arthur's hair before drawing him into another embrace.
The concern melted Arthur's heart as the love he felt from Francis heated up his entire being, soul and body. He suddenly felt the urge to share this love with the other, wanting to replace bad memories with good ones.
Sighing the Frenchman's name, Arthur moved his head up, fitting it nicely against Francis' neck. The heat from his breath stretched across Francis' throat making the Parisian tingle with the urge to touch his partner all over.
Francis said nothing as he went back to rubbing the Brit's back at a slower pace than before. His hand moved from the tip of the Englishman's shirt collar all the way down to his hips. He took his other hand and smoothly intertwined his fingers with Arthur's.
The green-eyed young man omitted a small, humming sigh, closing his eyes. The feeling of the loving touches were calming but also inviting. He pushed his head slightly back, resting it against Francis' shoulder blade and looked up at the other blonde, his eyes full of desire.
Francis looked back, reading the stare, "I won't hurt you."
"I can't go on like this," Arthur pleaded, "I need to wipe it all away."
The Frenchman frowned, "You'll be guilty of sodomy for sure then."
"That doesn't seem to matter anymore!" Arthur protested, "That damn Hitchen already has a whole host of people willing to testify that I'm a sodomite anyway!"
Francis looked rather upset. His shoulders dropped as he asked, "Do you love me?"
The Brit blinked, confused at the purpose of the question, "What the devil does that have to do with anything?"
The Parisian laughed, "See? You are doing it again. One minute you're helpless, the next you're raging mad; then you are intelligent and after that you're just another idiot in the crowd. You have a very unbalanced personality, mon cher."
Arthur took slight offense to his comment and opened his mouth to defame the Frenchman for such accusations, but before a syllable could be uttered he was absorbed into heavy kiss. Feeling Francis lick his lip before pushing into his mouth and pressing against his tongue made Arthur shudder. Whether it was from shock or delight he could not tell. His moans rippled up his throat and down that of the young man caressing him. Not wanting to slide fully onto the floor from going numb Arthur pulled away to breath.
"Well?" Francis looked at him with glossy eyes, "do you? Because if you don't I refuse to go any further."
"I don't know." Arthur responded, "But I do know that I feel something for you."
The Frenchman ran his fingers through the Brit's hair, then brought his forehead to his lips, kissing him gently, "Than let's find out what that something is."
Arthur felt an electric bolt of excitement travel down his body as his face heated up into a blush. He hated to admit it but he was also curious to fully understand this feeling of affection he had for his guest. His train of thought was cancelled by the sensation of having his neck nibbled at. With his face turning a brighter red, he removed his hand from Francis' and weaved it in other's hair.
Francis licked all the red spots where he had bitten, while his free hand undid the four large buttons on Arthur's waist coat. He pulled back to yank off the black vest before drawing the Englishman back into another hypnotic kiss.
The sensation of all the kisses and touches were making Arthur harder. Brushing a quick hand across the Parisian's lap he could feel how erect Francis was becoming as well. The large bulge sent a wave of curiosity through him as he wondered how it would look and what it would feel like in his hands or even…
A cold touch to his skin interrupted his thoughts as he realized Francis had undone his shirt and was running his hands down his chest. Despite the bitter chill it continued to arouse him and he made a rash, brainless decision to poke Francis' package.
The Frenchman moved back and flickered his eyelids in surprise.
"I…I'm sorry," Arthur was now feeling embarrassed, "I just wanted to…feel it is all."
Francis smiled as though he were going to burst out laughing as Arthur rambled on making all sorts of excuses about comparing sizes and wondering if the rumours about the French were true. He patted the Brit on the head, "Why don't I just show you."
Arthur's face flushed a deep red as Francis stood up and jerked off his pants, revealing his lower body. He proceded to take off his frockcoat and silky, white buttoned up shirt, making himself completely naked. The Brit's eyes travelled from the toes all the way to the head, moving back down to the cock again. The rumours about the French were certainly true and it made him embarrassed and jealous as he was definitely smaller in comparison. Why Francis didn't laugh at him the first time he saw the Brit's dick was far from fathomable.
"You don't have to stare," Francis spoke up, "It's not like it's the rod of the King."
Arthur hmphed as Francis chuckled. The Brit placed an index finger on the tip. His mind was suddenly drawn to the experience he had had when Francis was sucking him off. It was intense and beyond anything wonderful he could describe. His mind then shifted to the moment Hitchen forced himself down his throat. He knew the feel and the taste and it made him hesitant to go forward, but the desperate need to shake the thief-taker from his mind made him gutsy with chance.
"Ugh" Francis chocked out in wonder when Arthur took his cock in hand and licked the tip, "Are you sure about this? You don't have to do this if you don't want to."
Arthur kept his focus on massaging the hardened flesh, responding, "I refuse to be a slave to that damn criminal."
Francis' facial features softened when the green-eyed man looked up with determination, "I need to be free of him."
The Parisian nodded allowing the Brit to go back to pumping him. He moaned when the Englishman dared to take him all in. Not wanting it to end, he placed a hand on the back of Arthur's head, encouraging him to continue sucking.
To stop himself from smashing into the Frenchman's abdomen Arthur placed his hands on Francis' hips. The feeling of the foreskin and precum on his tongue made him hum with desire. He began adding to the intensity by sucking harder and casually dragging his teeth, a simple grazing touch, across the solid cock as he bobbed back and forward.
"Ah…Arthur," Francis moaned silently, continuing to grapple Arthur's messy, blonde hair, "Oui…oui, oui, oui, oui, oui…"
Embraced in the repetitive movement, the Brit pushed on, adding low hum. The vibration of the noise nearly sent Francis over the edge. He released his hold on Arthur's head and dug his fingers into his own fine hair, closing his eyes tightly. The only thing stopping him from undoing himself was the desire to relieve himself inside his partner.
Francis bent over, his length slipping out of Arthur's grasp, and enveloped the Brit in a hefty kiss. He slipped the white, cotton shirt off Arthur's shoulders while continuing to probe the inside of his mouth. Kneeling down after catching a breath he undid the Londoner's belt buckle without complaint and pulled down the dark trousers to the Brit's knees where they could go no farther.
"Please do it," Arthur's eyes will fully of neediness, but Francis had something else in mind.
"Non," He responded, draping his arms around Arthur's waist, "I would like to do something different."
At first the Brit looked at Francis with child-like confusion, but blushed heavily as his ass was firmly stroked and squeezed. He wasn't completely sure, but had a good idea of what Francis was thinking of doing.
When the first finger pushed past his entrance, Arthur gasped and clutched onto the Parisian's shoulders, yelling, "What the bloody hell!"
Francis immediately pulled out and pushed back from the Londoner, "I'm sorry, are you alright?"
Arthur placed a hand on Francis', which was neatly placed on his shoulder. He looked to the ground embarrassed, "I'm…fine. I just…wasn't expecting that."
Looking up he added, "Why are doing that anyway?"
"Oh," The Frenchman flashed his eyelids, "Well, it's good to do for what comes next. I mean…"
"You're going to insert yourself into me," Arthur had a hint of annoyance in his face, his voice stern.
Francis smiled with a slight laugh, trying to lighten the mood, "How did you know?"
"Because," Arthur glared looking down, "That's what he did."
"Did he prepare you first?"
"Well obviously not. He just jumped on me. No warning at all."
"No," Francis wrapped his arms tightly around the Brit, running his index finger up and down Arthur's crack, "I mean, did he stretch you so that it wouldn't hurt?"
Arthur quaked in the blonde's arms, "S-stretch?"
"Mhm" The Parisian hummed, wedging himself back into Arthur's heat. He prodded his finger around before inserting another one, making the Brit flinch. Arthur remained quiet trying to ignore the feeling as it was a double-edged sword between pain and pleasure. The feeling of Francis scissoring him, and finally adding the third finger nearly made him buckle into the Frenchman's arms.
"Ok," Francis' winked at a red-faced Arthur, "This is your last chance to back out. Once I start I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."
Arthur felt slightly threatened by the comment, but nodded; desperate to free his mind of his attacker and replace it was someone he had affection for.
A/N: = D Don't worry…the scene isn't over yet…you'll just have to wait to see what happened between them. The chapter was getting really, really long so I pushed it back. FORGIVENESS!
NOW FOR SOME FRENCH:
J'ai revenu! - I have returned!
Mon amour - My love
And SOME History:
~The Jockey Club wasn't formed until 1750 with the first Derby being held in 1780 in Espom, Surrey, England. However, people were still racing horses. The first Racing Calendar was produced in 1727. Of course horse racing goes WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY back even before the days of the Greeks. Chariot racing was a popular event at the (ancient) Olympics. As for England, the first horse races are thought to have been held by Roman soldiers around 200 AD, but the first recorded race was in 1174 at a horse fair in London.
~Chess is somewhat complicated to discuss. It existed and yet it didn't. At this time it would've been known as "Queen's Chess" and was constantly being refined with new rules being added. The rules were fairly similar but some, like the stalemate, weren't added until the early 19th century. The game as we know it wasn't finalized until the mid 19th century.