Sitting at his desk, Arthur watched a familiar white-haired figure pass by the windows of his office for probably the fifth time that afternoon. He wanted to call out and catch the other man's attention, but his throat tightened, and the hand he'd started to lift lowered back to his keyboard. Apparently, now wasn't the best time.
He's probably busy. Hard at work. I'll ask him later.
The work day was almost over, anyway. Only about fifteen minutes left. He could always just catch Gilbert after they'd clocked out, and ask him then. If he was honest with himself, though, Arthur knew he would probably keep letting his cowardice get the better of him. Not that he was afraid. Definitely not. He just wasn't sure how to go about asking. How was he supposed to bring up such a delicate topic? While at work, no less? Gilbert certainly wouldn't have minded, the Brit was at least sure of that, but still. He didn't know how to start the conversation.
There went that white hair again.
What is he doing out there?
It was unusual for Gilbert to pass by his office so often. The Prussian had his own desk, after all, and should have been spending this time talking to the bank's loyal customers, or perhaps convincing new ones to open accounts. But walking back and forth didn't seem to be serving any sort of purpose at all, other than to give Arthur more chances to consider saying something only to stop himself because it wasn't the right time.
With a sigh, the green-eyed blond lowered his head in defeat. At this rate, he probably wasn't going to ask at all. But he shook himself and refocused on his computer. He had work to do.
"Hey, Arzhur."
Hell.
The blond could have collapsed on his desk and simply disappeared. He almost did. But he restrained himself, and settled for putting a hand over his eyes and leaning his weight on his elbow so that he wouldn't have to look. Now, of all times, just after he'd decided to not even ask, Gilbert was leaning through his doorway with a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Yes?" he didn't sound nearly as calm as he would have liked.
"Is zhere a reason your office is filling zhe bank vizh tension?"
Oh, no, it wasn't really that noticeable, was it?
"I don't know what you mean." Arthur didn't move as Gilbert came the rest of the way into the office and shut the door behind himself.
"You vatched me valk by like four times. Vhat's on your mind?"
Lord have mercy on him, it really was that obvious.
"It's nothing. Nothing appropriate to discuss at work, anyway."
One of Gilbert's eyebrows went up. "Zhat doesn't seem to keep you from zhinking about it."
Nothing had been keeping him from thinking about it. Not work, not sleeping last night, not visiting his favorite café for lunch, nothing. It was like his mind was stuck on replay, and everyone in the bank, apparently, knew something was wrong with him.
Keeping his head lowered to hide the flush coming into his cheeks, Arthur folded his hands in his lap. "It's just something Alfred said to me yesterday," he muttered, and Gilbert leaned over the desk in order to hear.
"Vhat did he say?"
That he'd like to watch me or that I could watch him and I don't know how to feel about it.
Voice locked inside his throat, Arthur lifted his chin enough to make eye contact with the other man in his office and tried to convey his thoughts that way.
"I can't read your mind, you know," the albino commented after they'd been staring at each other for at least a minute.
Arthur sighed and looked away. "I don't want to say it."
"Vas it bad?"
"No, it was just…" Sexual. Arousing. Completely unfair. "Unsettling."
His curiosity kicking in, Gilbert braced a hand on the desk and leaned his weight on it. "Unsettling how?"
How should he phrase this?
"Things got sort of intimate yesterday and things were said and I'm not sure how to respond to it."
That shit-eating grin came back in full force. "Did you shag him?"
"What?" Arthur frowned at the taller male. "No, of course not. Not yet." The last bit was added in a mumble but Gilbert still heard him.
"Yet. So, intimate, and he said…vhat, exactly?"
Hiding his face in his hands, Arthur could feel the heat in his cheeks. "He said he wouldn't mind watching me."
"Vatching you?"
"Or letting me watch him."
Slowly, understanding bloomed in red eyes, followed by possibly the largest smirk Gilbert had ever had. "Zhat's kinky, Arzhur."
"Ugh, I know," the Brit groaned, letting himself fall forward onto his desk, and buried his face in his arms. "I don't know what to do."
"Vell, vould you like it?"
Like, what, being watched? Watching Alfred? Yes. Hell yes. He would. But he didn't have anything suited for that sort of playing. Which was exactly why he'd been wanting to talk to Gilbert.
"…yes. But I need your help first."
Gilbert bowed mockingly then grinned at the blond. "At your service."
X
"Hey, Incubutt! Whaddya want for dinner?" Feliks called from the kitchen, and Alfred rolled his eyes out of habit.
"Don't care," he answered, voice raised enough that the other two males sharing the hotel suite would hear him. It would have been easy to get up and go out to actually talk to them, but lounging on his bed was comfortable, and he'd been daydreaming about yesterday's date with Arthur. He'd especially been thinking about what happened during the movie, though he was careful not got get himself all worked up.
I can jack off, though, he reminded himself. It was something he had to remind himself of, since he wasn't used to it being a viable option. Masturbating didn't do anything to ease and incubus' appetite, but getting horny thinking of Arthur was another story entirely.
Well, if Feliks and Toris were taking care of dinner, then he had enough time for something like that. But what did he want to fantasize about?
Before he could come up with anything, Alfred's phone buzzed on the nightstand, and there was a second when he wondered who on earth would be texting him other than the Fairie and the Nymph in the kitchen. That was only for a second, though, because then he realized it was probably Arthur, and his lunge was entirely graceless. But he did manage to pick up the phone without knocking anything over or falling to the floor, so he called it a success and opened the message.
What's your favorite color?
It wasn't as exciting of a text as he was hoping for.
Uh, red?
That was kind of random, but Alfred didn't let it distract him. He had to come up with a good fantasy.
Arthur. Think about Arthur. The way he smells. His smile. How his ears turn red when he's embarrassed. Think about touching him, holding him close, the sounds he made yesterday.
God, the sounds he'd made. Every whimper, every breathy moan had been like icing on the meal of pleasure Alfred had gotten. And the way he'd called out at the end, shouting the American's name as his body tensed and quivered? Beautiful.
Alfred felt himself growing hard and stood to head to the bathroom, only taking his phone with him as an afterthought. The door was shut and locked just to be safe—Feliks rarely bothered to knock before walking into rooms, and Al definitely didn't need to be caught jerking off when he wasn't even remotely hungry. Feeding off Arthur's orgasm still had him feeling pleasantly full, so this was going to be even better.
"Hmmm," the bespectacled blond hummed as he glanced around the bathroom. Last time he'd done this, he'd been in the shower. That'd been convenient, but he didn't need to shower, and he didn't much feel like stripping down all the way.
Abandoning his phone on the counter near the sink, Alfred moved to stand in front of the rather ornate toilet that occupied one of the bathroom's corners. He'd just unbuttoned his jeans when that familiar buzzing sounded again, and this time he hesitated before reaching over to pick up the still-vibrating device. Somehow, masturbating to the thought of Arthur while texting Arthur but not telling the Brit what he was doing made him feel sort of guilty.
Do you like strawberries?
What? Strawberries? That was even more random than asking what his favorite color was.
Yeah, but what's with these questions?
He didn't even put the phone down, just stood there with his pants hanging on his hips as he waited for a response. Yeah, he was hard, but without the pressure of his jeans, he could handle it for a little while.
Impatient curiosity made him tap his fingers against the side of the phone.
I'm shopping with Gilbert.
Alfred couldn't help the look of utter confusion on his face. Shopping with Gilbert? First, he hadn't taken the albino to be the type of guy to go shopping on a Tuesday evening. Second, if Arthur was shopping, why was he asking these questions? Was he buying things for Alfred?
You'd better not be buying me stuff, Arthur. Don't waste your money on me.
I'm not.
Then why ask about my favorite color and if I like strawberries? What are you shopping for?
Just a few things. And they're not just for you, they're for me, too.
What are you buying?
You'll see.
His annoyance at that cryptic answer almost had Alfred throwing his phone against the wall. There he was in his bathroom about to jack off but ignoring his boner because Arthur was acting strange, and the Brit was keeping secrets! He almost wanted to call the green-eyed blond and demand to know what he was buying and why he needed to know Al's favorite color in order to buy it. If it was something for the both of them then he deserved to know, right?
No, no, he can buy whatever he wants. It's not my business. Just let it go.
Sighing, Alfred forced himself to type out his response and sent it before turning his phone on silent so it wouldn't interrupt him again. Then the device was placed on the counter, and he turned his attention to the task at hand.
Boner. Right.
Even thought his lingering frustration made him less interested in taking care of himself, he knew his current state was probably the real cause of his exaggerated emotions. He'd never gotten so worked up over some simple texts, so this was probably the best plan of action. Do this, calm down, then talk to Arthur and figure out what was going on. Yeah. He could do that.
As he relaxed, the American let his mind fill with thoughts of the slender blond he'd become attached to over the last week and a half. Was that all it'd been? Wow. It felt like so much longer than that, but he supposed that was a good thing. Thinking about how little time he'd actually spent with Arthur was weird. He preferred to think it'd been longer than it had been.
No, right, he was focusing. Okay, what did he want to imagine?
The dressing room. Arthur being jealous over how interested the photographer was. He was helping Al change into his next outfit, and they were kissing. He had the Brit up on the vanity, Arthur's knees were squeezing his hips as he leaned over him, a hand tangled in golden blond locks to keep him from pulling away.
Slowly, with his eyes closed to keep the image in his mind, Alfred pushed his boxers and jeans down until they pooled around his ankles. One hand was braced against the wall, and he stroked himself with the other. His touches were gentle, at least for now, just until the Arthur in his head decided that wasn't good enough.
"Artie…" the name left him in a sigh and his shoulders slumped forward, every ounce of focus he had going into the fantasy.
Hands gripped his hair and teeth caught his lower lip, tugging as Arthur pressed against him. The Brit had lost his shirt at some point, which was unsurprising because Alfred wanted to run his hands all over that pale, slender body. Besides, he was practically naked, anyway, so why shouldn't Arthur be at least shirtless?
"I don't like the way he looks at you," the green-eyed blond growled, lips ghosting across Al's skin until they found his neck.
"He doesn't matter."
"You're bloody right he doesn't." Arthur busied himself with creating a hickey on the model's throat, his hand sliding down a muscular torso until he encountered the waistband of Alfred's current outfit—just a pair of snug-fitting swimshorts. "Time for these to go," the Brit purred, tugging at the fabric until they slipped down and off. The friction drove a soft groan from Alfred.
"Nn…"
"Let's take care of this."
A slim-fingered hand wrapped around his length and Alfred shuddered, hunching forward until he could bite Arthur's shoulder. The Brit's touches were gentle for a few seconds, then his grip tightened and he began to pump firmly, until Alfred's frame shuddered and he choked out sounds past the narrow shoulder he was still biting.
"F-fuck…hah…"
The Arthur in his head was biting and sucking at his ear, had hold of the hair at the nape of his neck as his other hand pumped and stroked and squeezed. Holy shit, he wished it was actually Arthur who was touching him. His imagination was pretty good, but still, it wasn't as good as Arthur would have been.
"Jesus…Arthur…"
"I like how your voice cracks."
God damn it. Damn it, he was close, he was so close he could feel his legs trembling just from trying to hold himself up. If he'd opened his eyes, he probably wouldn't have been able to see much. Just a little more…
"Come on, love," Arthur whispered, squeezing the taller blond from base to tip, "I want to know what you sound like when you orgasm."
"Fuck! Arthur!"
His shouts echoed around the bathroom, and even through the bliss of his release, he had a momentary panic that he'd be overheard. When nothing happened—no one came to see why he'd been yelling, at least—he relaxed again and let himself enjoy the pleasure coursing through him.
"You have a lovely voice."
The Arthur in his head was such a fucking tease.
X
Still more embarrassed than he'd been in what he was sure was years, Arthur unlocked the front door of his apartment and led the way inside as Gilbert followed him. The shopping trip had really been a shopping trip, so he'd needed the albino's help to carry everything. Most of the bags were full of groceries and household products, but there were a few that held more questionable items.
Part of him still couldn't believe he'd really bought them.
"You know I haven't been into a store like that since I was sixteen?" he commented as he sat the bags he'd been carrying on the kitchen counter and began to put their contents away.
"Zhat doesn't surprise me at all."
"Thanks for going with me, by the way."
"You're velcome."
Together, they unpacked most of the bags and put everything Arthur had purchased away, save for those few questionable bags. Those were taken back into his bedroom, and dumped out on the bed. Arthur could barely stand to look at them; his face was a deep shade or pink and he just knew that Gilbert was smirking.
"Alfred's a lucky guy."
Arthur could have punched him. Maybe not in the face, but in the shoulder, at least. Just to get him to shut up. "With my luck, I'll never end up using any of it."
"Naw," Gilbert started sorting through the small pile, separating it out so they could see each item a little better, "I don't zhink he'll have a problem getting you to use zhem."
"Rephrase: with my luck, I'll never get up the nerve to tell him I bought any of it."
"I could tell him, if zhat'd be easier."
Just the thought made Arthur feel slightly sick. "Er, no, thank you. I don't know that that'd be the best way to do it."
"Zhen my vote is zhe next time zhings get intimate, you tell him you have a surprise, and you pick somezhing to use. Or let him pick. Use more zhan one. Use zhem all. Vhatever you vant. I don't zhink he'd mind."
How on earth could he be so casual about this? It was indecent! And while Arthur was perfectly aware that there was a time in his life when he would have considered these things to be boring, now he wasn't sure he had the courage to use them. But he'd told Alfred he was shopping with Gilbert, and that what he was buying was for the both of them. The American was sure to ask about it, and he knew himself too well to think he'd be able to brush it off with a lie. Sooner or later, Alfred was going to find out.
"…well, we'll see," he finally conceded, then began gathering them up. "For now, I need to find a safe place to put them."
"Let's get you a box," Gilbert suggested, watching.
"A box?"
"Ja. Just a box, vhere you can keep zhings like zhat, and tuck zhem away in your closet or under zhe bed until you need zhem. Zhat vay, zhey're all in vone place and easy to find."
For a moment, Arthur considered asking if Gilbert had a box, then he decided he didn't really want to know.
"I'll keep that in mind." Until then, in a bag in the back of his closet would have to be good enough.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This has nothing to do with Hunger, but I recently started an nsfw ask blog on Tumblr that's run by Arthur. It's going to accompany a new fic I'm working on, so you should go check it out!
blog/no-one-to-tease