It was a perfect day for a picnic. Or maybe Alfred just thought it was because of how much he was enjoying himself. Either way, this date was pretty perfect.

They were lying on their blanket, the food Arthur had brought was untouched because they weren't hungry yet, and the breeze was just enough to keep them cool in the sun. Idly, Alfred brushed his fingers through Arthur's hair. The weight of the Brit's head resting on his stomach was surprisingly pleasant, and he let out a rather content sigh.

"This is nice." His voice was light and relaxed, not sleepy but close to drowsing.

Arthur's only response was a soft hum. He was closer to sleep than Alfred was, comfortable with his American pillow to snuggle against. Really, he could have stayed this way indefinitely. His boyfriend—he felt a little giddy just thinking of the word—was warm and the sun felt nice on his skin and through his clothes. And the way Alfred kept playing with his hair? Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

"You'll put me to sleep," the golden blond cautioned, and Alfred smiled.

"That's okay."

It was interesting to feel the model's muscle tense and shift as he talked.

"We have to eat, though." There was no conviction to his voice and it did nothing to convince Alfred to stop running his fingers through Arthur's blond locks. They were soft and he liked the way it felt between his fingers, and besides, the green-eyed male was obviously enjoying it. No way was he going to stop if this made Arthur happy.

Man, this really was nice. The sun, the breeze, the fresh smell of grass and trees and flowers, Arthur lying against him like this. It was great. Best start to a date ever.

"Hey, Artie."

"Hm?"

"What're we doing after we eat?"

It was quiet as the Briton thought about that question. In all honesty, he hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd just packed a picnic basket this morning and stuck it in his fridge to grab after work.

"I don't know. Lie here a while, I suppose. Talk."

"About what?"

Turning, Arthur rested his cheek on the larger male's stomach and looked towards Alfred's face. His movement caused the American to sit up slightly, his weight braced on one hand, which led to Arthur's head being in his lap more than on his stomach. Alfred's free hand went back to stroking his companion's hair and he smiled crookedly. Slowly, he leaned forward over the other male until he could brush his lips against Arthur's forehead, his eyes falling closed during the few seconds of contact. When he drew away again, Arthur was looking up at him shyly, his cheek flushed a delicate shade of pink. The sight drew a chuckle from Alfred and he gently stroked the colored flesh.

"You're cute, you know."

Arthur blushed darker and looked away somewhat stubbornly, though he couldn't help the pleased feeling he got from compliments like that.

"So," the bespectacled model went back to playing with his boyfriend's hair, "what are we gonna talk about after we eat?"

"I don't know. What would you like to talk about?" Still just a little pink in the face, Arthur turned back so he could look up at Alfred's face while the American thought.

"Mmm…I'd like to know more about you."

"Me?"

"Yeah." Alfred was smiling slightly, his head tilted back as he looked up at the sky. "I wanna know about your family, where you grew up, your favorite food, dumb shit you did as a teenager, stuff like that."

One side of Arthur's mouth quirked up and his eyebrows drew together as he thought about the topics Alfred had listed. His family? As in his brothers? He wasn't overly fond of talking about them. Where he grew up was nothing exciting. Favorite food…scones. There wouldn't be much conversation around that one. And the dumb shyt he'd done as a teenager was embarrassing at best, so he wasn't much inclined to talk about it. "Why would you want to know about any of that?" he asked slowly, watching as Alfred let his head fall forward so that their eyes met; Alfred smiled as if he didn't understand the question.

"Why wouldn't I? You're my boyfriend—I want to know about you."

Green eyes moved to one side then rolled up and over to the other and Arthur's head bobbed side to side gently. "Fair enough. But if I tell you, then you have to tell me."

Alfred grinned. "Deal. Food first, though, cause I'm getting hungry."

Chuckling, Arthur nodded and sat up then moved towards the picnic basket. They hadn't touched it after taking out the blanket they were currently sitting on, so he busied himself with emptying it of all its other contents. Paper plates and plastic cups, napkins, a couple of forks and butter knives were first, each set out neatly. Next came the food, which included several slices of bread, sliced meat and cheese, and some lettuce and sliced tomatoes for sandwiches, as well as a small tub of potato salad, a few apples, and a thermos of flavored water.

"Wow." Alfred almost couldn't believe the amount of food Arthur had managed to fit into that little basket. "You sure know how to pack for a picnic."

The compliment earned a smile from his green-eyed companion, and Al had to resist the urge to distract Arthur from what he was doing so he could kiss him. That was allowed, he supposed, now that they were officially together, but he hadn't been lying when he'd said he was starting to get hungry, so he kept his hands to himself while Arthur finished setting up the food and utensils.

Hungry.

God, not now!

Frowning at himself, Alfred bit down on his tongue to keep himself from doing something stupid. He was on a date with Arthur and he was not going to use the Brit for food, and that was final. The incubus in him was just going to have to suffer until he got back to the hotel tonight, and then he'd let Feliks or Toris feed him. Not through sex, but there were other ways to get enough energy to tide him over.

Great. Cheating on him less than three days into the relationship. Fucking great.

This was the absolute worst. But as Arthur finished with the food and started to look up, Alfred fixed a smile in place and shifted to sit cross-legged so he could reach more easily. "Looks delicious," he complimented, earning another smile and a slight blush from the other male.

So easily flustered, he thought fondly, his hunger temporarily fading because how could he want to eat something so cute?

"Um," Arthur busied himself with the food once again to avoid looking at the way Alfred was smiling at him, "what do you want on your sandwich?"

"I can do it." Scooting closer, the bespectacled blond chose a plate then started separating out the supplies he needed for his sandwich. "You don't have to make mine for me."

"But you made me breakfast," the Brit pointed out, "so it would be fair."

"Except I'm not hung over," Alfred teased, "and I slept on your couch, so breakfast was like payment for letting me stay."

Arthur scoffed. "Let you? I'd have never made it out of bed without you."

"You wouldn't have made it into bed, either."

That brought Arthur up short—what had he done?! "…what?"

Now realizing that maybe that wasn't the best thing to say, Alfred took a few moments to put his sandwich together before he answered. "You couldn't unbutton your waistcoat, so I had to help you. Then your shirt, and your belt." He tried not to give away how tempting all of that had been, how close he'd come to pinning Arthur to his bed and claiming every inch of his body. Now probably wouldn't be a very good time to betray how much he wanted the Brit.

As soon as Alfred's words registered, Arthur buried his face in his hands, the potato salad he'd been reaching for now forgotten. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Alfred waved his hand dismissively as he chewed a bite of his sandwich. "Naw. You were being really sexy, but you were drunk, so I just helped you undress then left so you could sleep."

Slowly, Arthur peeked between his fingers. "And got me painkillers. And made me breakfast. And drove me to work."

"All part of the afterparty. I told you to drink as much as you wanted. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean to take care of you." Smiling, Alfred took another bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed as he looked at the other male.

It took a few seconds for Arthur to gather himself enough to lower his hands, and even then his face was still a little pink. But he let out a breath and reached for the potato salad again, this time serving some onto his plate then handing the tub to Alfred. They ate in near silence, since Arthur was too embarrassed to try to change the subject, and Alfred didn't want to start talking again until his companion was ready. He'd let Arthur pick the next subject.

Being unnecessarily careful, Arthur made sure to scrape up the last bits of the potato salad with his fork before he set the plate aside and resettled on the blanket. Hearing that he'd made Alfred strip him a few nights ago was more than a little embarrassing, but he didn't want to let that stop him from enjoying the rest of their date. Except, after that, he didn't much feel like talking about himself, and he knew Alfred wouldn't share anything unless he did, too. They were going to have to find something to do other than talk.

"So," he looked up when Alfred started talking, "what should we do now?"

Arthur picked up the thermos and sipped at the flavored water to give himself time to think of a response. What was something couple did on dates?

"…we could watch a movie at my apartment," he suggested a moment later, hoping that wasn't too cliché or boring for Alfred's tastes.

The American smiled. "That sounds nice."

Surprised but pleased, Arthur blinked once before smiling in return. "Great. Ah, shall we?"

"Yeah."

Together, the two blonds packed away the remaining food then folded up the blanket and nestled it neatly on top. It was a bit of a surprise for Arthur to feel Alfred take his hand once they started walking back towards the path, not that he minded. In fact, he was quick to shift his hand enough to lace his fingers through Alfred's larger ones, and he couldn't help but smile at how warm of a grip it was.

"Here." Alfred took the basket and strapped it onto the back of his motorcycle again once they reached the bike, and Arthur was quick to put on the helmet he'd so quickly become accustomed to wearing. Then the taller blond was on the bike and waiting as the shorter settled on behind him, arms wrapped around Al's torso and holding on tightly as the engine came to life.

As Alfred pulled away from the curb and Arthur rested lightly against his back, he tried to remember what sort of state his apartment was in. Clean, he hoped. Probably. He wasn't a very messy person, so he doubted there'd be anything too out of place. Maybe a blanket he'd forgotten to put away or something like that. It should be fine for Alfred to come inside.

Oh, but what movie would they watch? He didn't have very many American-made ones, not things Alfred would probably be familiar with or like. When was the last time he'd bought a movie? He couldn't even remember. It wasn't something he did very often. Books were more along the line of what he invested his time and money in. What if he didn't have a movie Alfred would want to watch? Then what?

What felt like much too soon, they pulled up to the curb at his apartment and Alfred stopped the motorcycle, holding the bike upright as Arthur stood. The Brit swung his leg up and over until he was standing on his own then busied himself with removing the helmet as Al let the bike lean on its stand. It was ridiculous how nervous he suddenly felt. The day had been going so well and he didn't want to be the reason it fell apart.

"Um," he rolled the helmet between his palms as Alfred turned and smiled at him, "I don't know that we'll find any good movies to watch, but…"

"It'll be fine. Got your keys?" Alfred had the basket off the back of the bike.

"Yeah." Arthur's mind was racing to remember what movies he had as he went to his front door and unlocked it, held it open so Alfred could go in first. Everything was neat and clean, as always, which helped to relax him, but he couldn't help but think of the last time Alfred had been here as he paused to take off his shoes. One hand braced against the wall for balance, he watched the American set the basket on the kitchen counter then continue on into the living room.

"Where are your movies?" The bespectacled male's attention wandered over Arthur's living room in search of a shelf or rack.

Hands busy unpacking the picnic basket so its contents could be put in the fridge, Arthur leaned just far enough to see around the corner. "Cabinet under the TV." He watched as Alfred sat on the floor and opened the cabinet to examine the DVDs stored there.

"Alphabetized. Nice."

Of course they were alphabetized. Arthur wouldn't have thrown them in there willy-nilly. But he didn't say that, just quickly tucked the leftover food into its proper places and left the basket on the counter to be put away later. It belonged in the hall closet—he just didn't feel like putting it away just yet.

"Pick whatever you want," he instructed as he came into the living room and settled on the couch, legs folded beneath himself. Alfred was humming and commenting under his breath as he read the titles on the case spines. It was the only sound, since Arthur didn't feel like interrupting him. And besides, he found it entertaining and sort of cute.

Eventually, Alfred let out a long sigh and leaned back on his hands. "Which one's your favorite?"

Arthur didn't hesitate. "Love Actually."

"Then let's watch that." Thanks to the alphabetizing, it was a matter of seconds for Alfred to locate the move and pull it off the shelf. Curious, he examined the cover and decided that this must be a Christmas movie. They were going to watch a Christmas movie in the summer. Well, why not?

Luckily, Arthur's entertainment system was nothing fancy, so he didn't have to do a whole lot of poking around before he figured out how to work it. Then the DVD was loading and the TV was on—previews started playing just as he pushed himself to his feet then moved to join Arthur on the couch.

"Nope." Smiling, the Brit lifted a foot and pushed at Alfred's thigh so the American couldn't sit. "Get the remote first. It's on top of the TV."

With a chuckle, Alfred turned and retrieved the remote before he tried again. Arthur let him sit this time, and was quick to crawl across the couch and lie against Alfred, shifting until he was comfortable. An arm wound around his waist to hold him close, and Alfred used the remote to skip the previews. He clicked the play button as soon as the DVD menu allowed, and then the movie's beginning scene started. It was a narration about love being everywhere, if someone were to look hard enough.

The only sounds in the apartment other than that of the movie were occasional chuckles from the two males lying together on the couch. Alfred also had a moment of excitement when he recognized Alan Rickman and basically shouted that Snape was in this movie. He also recognized Keira Knightley, Liam Neeson, and Martin Freeman, all of which betrayed that he was a nerd, and which Arthur found to be ridiculously cute. Which he also resisted commenting on because he got the feeling Alfred would have gotten embarrassed if he'd pointed it out.

Besides, there was something else he wanted to ask about, when Colin was telling Tony why he wanted to go to America.

"Would that actually work?" he asked, green eyes never leaving the TV screen.

"What?"

"Him wanting to go to America to find a girlfriend because he has a cute British accent. Would it really work like that?"

Alfred grinned and shifted behind the golden blond, pulling Arthur just a little bit closer. "Yeah. Lucky me for coming here. If you'd come to America, I'd have had to fight off dozens of people just to get your attention."

"I think you'd have gotten my attention no matter what."

"Good," the blue-eyed male whispered before kissing the side of Arthur's neck. Really, he'd been resisting doing that for a while. It was just so tempting, having that pale bit of neck right there this whole time, so easily within reach to kiss and nip and lick. He'd only held back because this was Arthur's favorite movie, and he didn't want to be a jerk by interrupting. Plus, it was a pretty good movie, and he knew he wouldn't feel nearly this tempted if it wasn't for the fact that he was hungry.

So he resisted doing anything more.

The movie continued, eventually coming back to Colin's story and showing his arrival to Wisconsin. Alfred and Arthur watched as he took a cab to a bar, ordered a beer, and was promptly noticed by a rather attractive woman. Two more soon joined, and within minutes, Colin was being invited to their house to have sex with all three of them, including a fourth girl who had yet to be introduced.

"This is the only part I can't really believe," Arthur admitted, "except that they wanted him to list things just so they can hear his accent."

Alfred grinned a little. "Would you do that to me?"

"What?"

"Make me list things to hear my accent."

"I don't need you to list things to hear your accent."

"What about my other accent?" the American asked, his attention now completely on Arthur as if the movie was no longer playing.

Shifting on the couch, Arthur turned so he was lying on his back and looking up at the taller blond. "Other accent?"

The blue-eyed blond's features were overtaken by a sly grin. "Ya know th' one I mean, sugar," he drawled, watching as Arthur's face turned pink all over again. The sight made him chuckle, and he couldn't help but wonder just what he could get away with.

"Hm? Ya like this'n, right? Makes yer face turn all purdy." Gently, he stroked Arthur's cheek and tried not to get distracted by the sense of arousal coming off the smaller male. Damn, though, he was seconds away from pressing heat into the Brit and reducing him to a moaning mess. Arthur was already flushed and growing warmer, anyway, and the way he was looking up at Alfred made the model want to kiss him mercilessly. Flushed cheeks, his chin tucked to his collarbone and his bangs hanging over his eyes just slightly. Gold and green and pale pink.

Perfect.

Hungry.

Shit, if this kept up he was going to feed off Arthur whether he wanted to or not. Why did the Brit have to look at him like that? Why did his arousal have to feel so damn good? It was warm and sweet and promised that his pleasure would be even better.

"Artie, darlin'," he murmured, leaning over the smaller blond and letting his forehead rest against Arthur's, "tell me now if ya don' wan'ter do this. Cause I wan' ya.'

Hesitance came into the Englishman's expression, though he was still obviously aroused by the way Al was talking. He looked away for a few seconds, hands fidgeting at his sides. "Al…"

"It's okay if ya say no."

"Well, I," Arthur glanced at the man hovering over him, nervous now, "I don't think…" Hell, what should he say? That accent turned him on but he hadn't expected to end up in this situation. Certainly not to be on his couch, practically underneath the man who had so recently become his boyfriend, least of all to have his blood pooling in his groin and making him feel so uncomfortably warm. He wanted Alfred to take care of it for him, but shagging on his couch, for their first time together, didn't sound good enough.

It wasn't good enough.

"I want it to be special," he admitted quietly, still not meeting Alfred's gaze, "and it wouldn't be, now."

Slowly, the American smiled and kissed Arthur's forehead. "I understand." He paused when arms encircled his neck, waiting for Arthur to say whatever decision he seemed to be struggling with.

"Instead of sex," the Brit spoke softly, "could we…?"

He's cute when he's nervous.

Alfred's smile turned into a grin. "I kin make ya feel good, sugar. I kin make ya feel real good."

"Alfred." It was just short of a whimper—Arthur had to bite his lip to keep from whining. The way Alfred had purred that was entirely unfair, and the Brit's partial arousal had quickly increased. Any more of that accent and he'd be helpless to resist.

"Hush now, darlin'. Save that purdy voice."

God help me.

To Arthur's surprise, the next thing to happen was Alfred sitting up rather than touching him in some way. Confused, he looked up at the American with a slight frown. His expression made Alfred chuckle, and the blue-eyed blond gently brushed the Brit's bangs out of his eyes.

"Sit up, sweetheart. I know what I'm doin'."

All these pet names were going to leave Arthur more flustered than he'd ever been in his life. But he did as he was told, and watched curiously as Alfred lay on the couch and hooked his knees on the armrest so that his head was comfortable on the cushion.

Grin firmly in place, the American patted his chest. "C'mere, darlin'."

Arthur stared. "…what?" He couldn't possibly mean what the green-eyed blond thought he meant. Sit on his chest? That would mean…

His hesitance only led to Alfred gripping his wrist and tugging until Arthur was left with no choice but to climb over the bespectacled model and straddle his muscular torso. Fromt his angle, they could both clearly see the bulge in Arthur's trousers. But Alfred rested his hands on the Brit's hips instead of touching him right away.

"Comfy?" he asked with a smile, and Arthur nodded shyly. "Good." Another second or two passed before Alfred slid his hands around and opened the buckle of his boyfriend's belt. Next was the button of his trousers, then the zipper; Arthur let out a soft sigh of relief as some of the pressure on his groin was released.

"Lift up," Alfred commanded quietly, and the Brit did as he was told. He rose onto his knees, one hand on the back of the couch for balance, and watched as Alfred tugged his trousers and pants down off his hips. The sight made him blush, but he didn't protest or resist. He couldn't—he wanted this too badly.

Who wouldn't? Really, he was straddling a sexy American model with his pants down and strong hands on his hips. Gentle pressure guided him forward until there was absolutely no room to question what Alfred meant to do.

Biting his lip, Arthur dug his fingers into the back of the couch as he looked down at the taller blond. Blue eyes were watching him from behind glasses as Alfred slowly lifted his head off the cushion. His lips parted slightly, and Arthur tensed in anticipation. Breath ghosted against his heated flesh and he shivered a split second before his breath caught in his throat.

Alfred smirked around the object in his mouth. It was just the tip for now, caught between his lips, but it was enough that Arthur had inhaled sharply then frozen, his green eyes locked on what the American was doing.

Teasingly, Al lifted his head little-by-little to take the Brit's length as slowly as he could manage. He could feel Arthur trembling and recognized how tense the golden blond's thighs were, an dhe knew it was because of him. With his gaze trained on Arthur's face to watch his reaction, Alfred wrapped his hands around those perfect pale thighs and squeezed gently as he began to suck. Lightly, his head rocking just a little to create pressure and slick friction.

"Haaah…Alfred…" The Englishman whined, his hips rocking forward in a weak attempt to get his companion to pick up the pace a little. It wasn't fair, this combination of heat and wet and Al's fingers rubbing at his inner thighs. Arthur struggled to maintain control of his body as he lowered his weight onto Alfred's chest again, his legs shaking too much to hold him up for much longer. He still had hold of the couch back, and he kept that grip as his eyes closed and his mouth hung slack to let soft moans escape.

There was so much warmth, so much heat that he thought he would start sweating. It was trapped under his clothes, spreading over his skin, and he knew his face was red even though this wasn't much work so far. He was just so hot. Heat under him from Alfred, on his thighs where the American was touching him and around his cock from that damn mouth. God, that mouth.

A tease. That's what Alfred was. He was a tease, a bloody git for tormenting Arthur like this. Hadn't he said he was going to make the Brit feel good? What was he waiting for? Why was he taking so long.

"Al." The green-eyed blond's voice was strained and he leaned forward, resting his forehead and arms on the armrest so that he was curled over the American's face. "Please." He couldn't even keep his eyes open; his breathing was uneven. Alfred's hands were practically burning against his thighs, making his entire body feel tight and hot, and he was barely managing to keep from jerking his hips forward.

To Arthur's dismay, rather than cease his tormenting, Alfred chose to slowly lay his head back down then grinned up at the golden blond.

"Doin' all right, darlin'?"

Arthur could have slapped him.

"No," the Brit growled, shifting on his boyfriend's chest and digging his nails into the fabric on the armrest, "I'm not all right. I'm being teased by an American git with a talented bloody mouth."

Amused, Alfred smirked and lightly rubbed at the other male's thighs. "You think I'm good with my mouth?"

Hadn't he made it clear what he thought? If this kept up, Arthur was going to get too annoyed to continue. But he swallowed his temper and sighed instead.

"Yes. Now, please, love, put it to use and be nice." He sounded more exasperated than anything, but really, he was hard and hot and this was the first time he'd done anything more than kiss the American—while sober, at least—and he didn't think it was proper for Alfred to be a tease for their first sexual interaction.

For a moment, Alfred merely looked up at the blond curled over him. Arthur's face was flushed a dark red and his shirt was rumpled from lying on the couch, and he was panting lightly. He wasn't heavy, so his weight was kind of nice, and his hips and thighs were so soft that Al couldn't help but run his hands over the pale skin.

He really was beautiful.

Alfred smiled crookedly. "Whatever you say, sugar." Moving quickly, he lifted his head again and swallowed Arthur's length as best he could.

"Ah!"

The cry was muffled by the couch's armrest, but it was enough for him to know that what he was doing felt good. So he held onto Arthur's hips to bring the shorter blond closer to himself, and he set to the task of sucking him off. Moans reached his ears, breathy and weak as he licked and sucked, tilting his head in whatever angle he had to in order to give Arthur as much pleasure as possible.

"O-oh my…god…Alfred…!" Panting, Arthur clung to the armrest and rocked his hips forward in time with the way Alfred's mouth was moving on him. The heat was so much worse now than it was before, was so much more intense. He couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but hold onto the couch and struggle to keep up with the pleasure flooding his senses. It was just a blowjob. The best blowjob of his life. He'd never felt so good from something so little before. No one had ever made him helpless so easily.

God, he was close. His stomach was tight, every muscle in his body taut and straining. "Al!"

As if his name being shouted was a cue, Alfred redoubled his efforts. He abandoned Arthur's thighs in favor of cupping his ass, fingers squeezing and kneading the Brit's plump rear while his mouth worked to earn every moan and whimper. It was obvious that Arthur was enjoying everything that was being done to him, but Alfred was surprised by how much energy he was getting.

The green-eyed blond's pleasure was amazing, delicious, sweeter than any food the incubus ever tasted. It made his thoughts go fuzzy like too much alcohol until all he could think was that he wanted more. More pleasure, more sweet energy, more sounds of want and shudders that ran down Arthur's spine as he continued to roll his hips forward into Alfred's eager mouth. He'd been so hungry, but he thought the energy he'd get from Arthur's climax would keep him sated for days. All he had to do was get the Brit to that tipping point then take him over.

Determined to succeed, Alfred relaxed his throat and pulled at Arthur's hips until he had every inch of the shorter blond's length. It tickled the back of his throat and he rolled his tongue against the underside, teeth catching the sensitive skin at the base. One of those delicious shudders left Arthur trembling and the Briton let out a loud groan.

"I'm….Al…nn…close…" he keened, face buried in the armrest and shoulders hunched up to his ears. If it hadn't been for Alfred holding his hips still, he'd have been writhing, but the most he could do was shift around a little and hope the American would take pity on him soon.

Ever so slowly, he felt those teeth begin to drag. They caught and pulled at his skin and he bit his lip so hard he was surprised he didn't taste blood.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck…!

"Alfred!" The model's name left him in the form of a hoarse shout as Arthur jerked against the hold on his hips, his entire body going rigid at the sudden spike of pleasure that erased his world. His nails dragged against the couch and he bit the armrest in an attempt to survive the burning white that overwhelmed him. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, could only feel the hands on his hips and the mouth on his cock, felt Alfred's throat tighten slightly as he swallowed.

Then, the white began to fade. All of his strength left him and Arthur collapsed against the armrest, trembling with the effort it took just to keep from falling on Alfred. He barely noticed when the American released him or when the hands on his hips moved to gently rub his back. The only reason he knew about that was because it felt nice. Everything felt nice. His skin tingled with the leftover heat and pleasure of his orgasm; his spine was full of tiny sparks.

"Fuck," he breathed, too tired to manage anything else.

When the Brit made no sign that he meant to move after a few relatively quiet minutes, Alfred carefully began to push at his companion's chest. He was gently in laying Arthur against the couch back so that he could sit up, and then he pulled the smaller male into his lap so he could cuddle him.

I fed off him.

And it had been amazing to the point that he couldn't feel bad about it. Arthur had wanted to. Of course, he hadn't really known what he was getting himself into, but he had enjoyed it anyway. And now he was exhausted from his first time feeding an incubus, and Alfred was satisfied in the way only a good meal could do, so he held onto his almost-lover and sighed into Arthur's hair.

"Sleep, Artie," he murmured when the golden blond began to move, and Arthur obediently settled down again.

Nuzzling against the American's chest, he closed his eyes and let his body go limp, not caring that he was still exposed. He was tired, and all he wanted was to rest.

So Alfred held him while he drifted off, rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head and occasionally murmured that he wasn't going anywhere or that Arthur was beautiful and perfect. Sleep was quickly overtaking him. Being well-fed usually woke him up, but he was content enough that he started to doze off only a short while after Arthur had fallen asleep.

In the background, completely forgotten by the two blonds, Love Actually continued to play.