NOTE: Before anyone complains, the scene of Alfred feeding off Feliks and Toris is on my Facebook page as a note. Search for James Marcus Snow (Writer) and open the note titled "Feeding." I hope it satisfies your appetites.

It was an odd thing, being an incubus. Of course, Alfred had gotten used to it decades ago. He'd had to just to survive in a world that refused to stop changing. His world had changed. It kept changing. Becoming an incubus was obviously a change he'd never expected. Meeting Feliks was another big change—the nymph was truly one of a kind—and then when he was finally introduced to Toris, well, that change went without saying.

But he'd adjusted. He'd grown and adapted and learned how to survive in this world that changed around him while he remained the same. What he never seemed to get used to, though, was the way he now saw people.

Humans. They were everywhere. Even after so many years as an incubus, Alfred was still surprised by the sheer number of humans there were in the world, and how few mythicals there were by comparison. Yes, at first, it had seemed like there were so many mythicals that he hadn't known what to do, but that was only in his early years as part of the world humans were oblivious to. Now he knew better. Mythical numbers were painfully low.

Look at them. They have no idea that we aren't humans.

Blue eyes lazily examined human after human as they passed by. None of them noticed Alfred and Feliks and Toris as the three sat around a small table enjoying lunch. Why should they? Feliks no longer shimmered, his ears were small and round and his teeth looked like any other's. Toris, too, had ceased to glow and there was no sign of wings or anything out of place about him at all. And Alfred was hornless, wingless, fangless and tailless. Nymph, faerie and incubus looked for all the world like they were humans—only another mythical would have been able to tell what they really were.

There were no other mythicals in sight. There was a time when going to such a busy place would have seemed like an opportunity to meet other non-human beings, but that wasn't the case. Going out like this was unusual for a mythical—they tended to mind their own business, and Alfred understood perfectly. Immersing himself in human culture wasn't pleasant. Unless he was hungry, he had no use for them. Other than Feliks and Toris, he had no friends and he didn't want to try making friends with humans. They would just grow old and die and leave him, and then what? Make more friends? Watch them grow and die, over and over? No. He didn't want that. Better to stick with the friends he had and let the humans carry on in their oblivious world. Humans were food and nothing more.

What about Arthur? He isn't food.

True. He didn't want to feed from Arthur. Not just for the sake of feeding, at least. Being hungry would make the action selfish and it would lack the emotion he wanted to have with the green-eyed human. He wanted to make love with the man. Arthur was interesting enough that Alfred didn't care about the difference in their species. There was no harm in spending the summer with him, right? Come August, he'd go back to America and over time lose contact with Arthur, things would go back to the way they were. No one had to get hurt.

"Feliks, why are we here, again?" Alfred asked, not pausing in his people-watching to look at the nymph sitting across from him.

"So I can, like, check out the latest fashions in London! I have to keep an eye on the competition, you know. Besides, who vacations in London and doesn't go shopping?" Feliks was halfway through a rather expensive salad and didn't even spare a glance at the other people in the room. The nymph was much too old to still be interested in the daily lives of humans.

"Well, considering you're, what, almost a thousand years old? Shouldn't you be bored with shopping by now?"

The question made Feliks look up and he stared at Alfred as if the taller blond had lost his mind. "How would I get tired of shopping when there's always new things to look at and try on and buy?"

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno. I think I'd get bored with it. But then, shopping has never really interested me." He was bored already, if he was honest, though he didn't bother saying it because he knew it wouldn't make any difference. Feliks had chosen the mall as their location for the day and they'd arrived just in time to grab some lunch. As soon as the nymph finished his salad, they would join the crowd of shoppers and spend the rest of their day wandering from store to store. And Alfred had no doubts that he would end up playing Ken Doll for his friend and employer.

"Feliks," Toris spoke up for the first time since they'd sat down with their food, "maybe we should cut shopping short today."

Instantly, the green-eyed blond's expression morphed into a pout. "Why?"

Smiling gently, Toris leaned closer to his mate and slipped an arm around the nymph's waist, nuzzling Feliks' cheek. "So we can spend the evening together."

Even though it was whispered, Alfred heard Toris perfectly well and quickly stamped out a flash of jealousy. There was no reason for him to be jealous of Feliks and Toris. They were good together and he wasn't romantically attracted to either of them, anyway. So he fixed a relaxed grin in place and leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, you should do that. Maybe I'll see if Arthur wants to go for a walk or something."

"Well," Feliks hesitated, looking between Toris and Alfred with uncertain green eyes, "doesn't Arthur have work in the morning? And you just saw him last night. He might feel, like, smothered if you ask to see him again so soon."

True. He hadn't thought of that. "Then I'll find something else to do. We're in London—I doubt I'll get bored even if I just wander around for a few hours. You guys can have the hotel for the evening. Just don't go into my room."

"Even though we were in there earlier today?" There was a clear teasing edge to Feliks' tone as he referenced Alfred's "meal" from that morning. "What's the difference between then and tonight?"

Alfred looked the smaller male straight in the eye, his expression neutral. "The difference is that I won't be there, so no screwing in my room. You've got your own room plus the rest of the suite to play in. Leave my room out of it."

Dramatic, Feliks let out a sigh and propped his chin in his hand. "Fine, I suppose we'll be satisfied with that. Right, Tor?"

"Yeah." A rare smirk appeared on the faerie's face as he looked back at his mate. "We'll definitely be satisfied."

It was impossible for Alfred to hold back a slightly disgusted expression. "I swear, I don't know how you two have so much sex. It's unnatural."

Feliks giggled and slipped his hand into Toris', standing. "You'd be the same as us if you had a mate, Incubutt. Now come on—I want to see what they've got for sale in this place."

He didn't say anything, but Alfred wasn't sure if he believed the nymph. Would he be the same as them? It was hard to say. Incubi were so different from other mythicals that making a comparison was all but useless. Besides, he'd never met a mythical he would consider mating with.

If only Arthur wasn't a human…

No, he shouldn't think that. He liked Arthur just the way he was, human or otherwise. Though, it was true, if Arthur hadn't been human, Alfred would have already seriously considered making the Briton his mate. There were ways for a human to become a mythical, but none of them were exactly pleasant, and Alfred couldn't do anything himself. He didn't like the idea of some other mythical getting their hands on his Arthur even for a moment, so he refused to consider the methods he knew of.

Huh. My Arthur. I didn't realize I'd gotten so possessive already. I guess Arthur really is special.

X

Head nodding in time to the tempo, Arthur relaxed against the side of his bathtub. The warm water was like heaven, caressing and cradling his body as if it would take away any pain or discomfort or worry he'd ever felt. His bathroom softly echoed back the music emitting from the record player set up just outside the door, and the song filled his ears, beautiful and perfect. There was a cup of freshly made tea on a small table where he would be able to reach it if he wanted, but for now his attention was focused on the bubbles.

Mounds of them, iridescent and weightless, drifted on the water's surface and clung to his skin. He stirred them with his hand, watched them spin around then slow and eventually stop. There was nothing more relaxing than this. Warm, clean water, hot tea, Mozart. What more did he need?

Alfred hasn't called back yet.

He wasn't bothered by it, necessarily, but he wondered what the American was doing that he was so busy. It couldn't possibly be that he was still eating lunch—not at nearly four in the afternoon.

But he has jetlag. It's lunchtime where he's from.

That was something he kept having to remind himself of. It was easy to forget the difference in time zones and he almost felt bad for it, though he knew he shouldn't. Besides, Alfred himself had said he needed to get used to the new time zone so there was little point in him forcing himself to remember.

Idly, the Englishman let his head rest on the lip of the tub and looked up at the ceiling. This was his only plan for the day, to enjoy a bubble bath before dinner then spend the evening reading or watching TV. Perhaps he would write a poem or two, if the mood struck him. He could write a poem about Alfred. Yes, that would be easy. Writing poetry about the American would be all too easy, unless he couldn't do the handsome tourist justice. But that was the beauty of poetry—the language was constructed for expressing emotions. As long as he was honest, the poem would be good enough.

He'll want to read it. Ah, but that would be embarrassing. Should I let him? Maybe…if I tell him I'm writing it. But it could give him the wrong idea. Or is it the right idea?

"I like him. That much is obvious." Arthur's eyes fell closed and he sighed quietly. "But poetry is about more than liking someone. If I write a poem about Alfred…it will sound like love."

It was definitely too soon for a word like that. Arthur had never used that word for any of the people he'd dated. He hadn't felt that strongly about anyone outside his own family, and even then it was questionable whether or not he was willing to admit that he loved his troublemaker older brothers.

"It would be easy to write, though."

And why not? He was on a whirlwind romance adventure—what was wrong with a little love-sick poetry?

Everything about you pains my envying
Your soul can't hate anything
Everything about you is so easy to love
They're watching you from above

Give me all the peace and joy in your mind
I want the peace and joy in your mind
Give me the peace and joy in your mind

Everything about you resonates happiness
Now I won't settle for less

The ringtone startled Arthur and he sat up, the water swishing quietly as the bubbles were thrown into a short frenzy. He knew who it was that had decided to either call or text him and couldn't help but smile as he reached for where his phone sat next to his cup of tea. He almost dropped it in the water in his excitement to answer, though he managed to catch it and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Artie, what's up?"

Arthur leaned back again and stretched his legs out under the water. "Enjoying a bubble bath."

"You didn't have to answer if you're busy."

He could hear the surprise and slight embarrassment in the American's tone—it was actually rather cute. "It's all right, Alfred. I don't mind. Besides, it's not as if you can see me."

"I wouldn't mind that," came the muttered response, and Arthur blushed because he was sure he wasn't supposed to hear it. "Well, I'm glad I didn't interrupt you or anything."

A smirk replaced Arthur's smile and he settled more comfortably, making sure to swish the water around loud enough for Alfred to hear through the phone. "Who says you didn't? There are all sorts of things to do in a bubble bath, Alfred." He let a suggestive tone take over his voice, imagining that Alfred's face turned red at the implications.

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know…sometimes I light candles and turn all the lights off, have a glass of wine…it sounds cliché, I know, but it's marvelously relaxing. I'm listening to Mozart today, and playing with the bubbles."

"I thought I could hear music in the background. Your bath sounds great."

"Yes, though it can be a bit lonely," the Brit admitted, making sure to sound properly sad about it even though he couldn't stop smiling. "I've never shared a bath with someone else before, but it sounds like a lovely idea."

"Maybe that guy you went out with yesterday could join you. I bet he'd enjoy it."

"I'm positive he would, but I'm not sure if I want to share something as intimate as a bath with him."

"Why not?" Alfred sounded vaguely offended and it wasn't difficult for Arthur to imagine the taller blond had started to pout.

"Hmmm…how do I put this?" Thoughtful, Arthur trailed his finger over the surface of the water and watched the bubbles move around. "He's extraordinarily kissable and my bath probably wouldn't stay a bath if he were to join me."

"I see. Is that a bad thing or a good thing?"

Arthur chuckled as he considered the question, reaching over to pick up his cup of tea and taking a sip. The wrong idea…or the right idea? "That depends."

"On?"

"If he knows what he's doing or not."

"What if he knows exactly what he's doing?"

Another sip. "Then I can only assume he's had many partners or a great deal of experience. In which case, I would feel…inadequate. I would worry about measuring up to his previous lovers, and I would wonder if I was nothing more than a fling or a conquest." They were legitimate fears, ones that Arthur would never have been able to admit in person or if they'd been speaking in any way other than this strange game. But somehow, lying in a bathtub full of warm, soapy water with the taste of tea on his tongue and Mozart playing in the background, it was easy to tell Alfred. It was like he knew the American wouldn't tease him about it. "I'm sure you can understand my hesitance to become involved with him."

"And what if he doesn't have a clue what he's doing? What if he's a blushing virgin?"

The question almost made Arthur choke on his tea. No way was Alfred a blushing virgin. It just wasn't possible. "I highly doubt that," the green-eyed blond began once he'd stopped coughing and regained his breath, "but if that's the case, then I don't think I'm qualified to be his first lover. That's a very special part of a young person's life, after all."

"How do you know he doesn't want you to be his first? He could be falling in love with you."

"Already? I hardly think that's likely, Alfred." Smiling, he sipped his tea and slid down into the tub a little farther. "Not with looks like his. He could have anyone he wanted. Why on earth would he fall for someone like me?"

"Maybe because you didn't fall for him right away. Maybe he likes that you're different."

His tone softer than before, Arthur contemplated what was left of his tea as he responded. "Different isn't usually a good thing."

"But it doesn't have to be a bad thing. I say you give him a chance. You never know where it could lead. Besides, I know for a fact that he's excited to see you again on Thursday, and that he loves how green your eyes are, and the way you blush and mutter when you're embarrassed, and how when you kissed him, you—"

"All right, all right!" Arthur interrupted before the American could say anything inappropriate, his cheeks flaming. "I get it—he likes me. And I like him, too, but I don't think I'll be inviting him to share my bath any time soon. That will have to wait for the fifth date, at least." Naturally, he was only joking. Something as intimate as a bath would normally have to wait until they were in an official relationship for at least six weeks before Arthur would even consider it. But with Alfred, he never knew what rules would be thrown out the window.

A chuckle sounded through the phone and Arthur carefully placed his cup back on the table. "I'm sure he'll be looking forward to that."

"So will I. Now, I'm finished with my bath and need to get rinsed off, so I'll have to let you go, Alfred. But it was lovely talking to you."

"I'm glad you answered. It was a nice conversation. Feel free to call me whenever you're free tomorrow—you should probably tell me what the dress code is for that party on Thursday so I don't do anything 'too American.'"

The reminder of his lack of tact made Arthur wince but he forced a laugh. "I'll be sure to do that. Goodbye, Alfred."

"Bye, Artie."

With a soft beep, the call disconnected and Arthur spent several moments staring at his phone. An idea had occurred to him, one that he'd never tried before and one that he would certainly be embarrassed by if anyone ever found out about it. Still, it was tempting…

Be brave, Arthur.

The Englishman took a deep breath before clicking the camera option on his phone, lifting it up into the air above himself, and smiling playfully before he took the picture. Inspection of the resulting image revealed that it wasn't too inappropriate, though he would definitely die of shame should anyone but himself or his intended recipient ever see it. Another deep breath steadied him, then Arthur converted the image into a message and hit Send before he had a chance to change his mind.

Alfred was about to get a surprise.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Oh, ho, ho! Risqué, Arthur! Someone's certainly getting into the spirit of this whole "whirlwind romance adventure." And Alfred isn't going to mind one bit.

I'm terribly sorry that this is so late. Life tends to get in the way. But here it is, and I will be updating this Thursday, as well. I trust you can all wait that long. I hope you enjoyed the playful banter!