"I don't care, Fe, whatever you want."
From his place at the kitchen table, Arthur listened to Alfred talk on the phone and took a drink of his tea.
"Yeah, I'll shower here." The American paused. "No, he isn't." He glanced at Arthur just long enough for the two to make eye contact before looking away. "I didn't ask."
Arthur finished his tea and got up to pour himself another cup from the pot on the counter.
"Not really, Fe." Alfred was starting to sound impatient with all the questions Feliks seemed to be asking. "No. I'll see you both in a bit, bye." He hung up and slipped the phone into his back pocket before sitting down across from the place Arthur had vacated. "They'll bring me clothes to change into before we go to the opening."
"What did he keep asking you about?" Arthur resumed his seat at the table and spooned a bit of sugar into his tea, stirring to help it dissolve.
Alfred didn't much look like he actually wanted to answer that. "He just kept making comments about me staying here last night and whether or not you were going to shower with me or whatever."
A tinge of pink came into Arthur's cheeks and the Briton looked down into his tea. "Oh."
"Yeah, but it's not because he thinks you're promiscuous or anything," Alfred assured him. "He's just…" he trailed off, trying to come up with the proper word. "He's…."
"Nosey?" Arthur supplied helpfully, and Alfred smiled.
"You could say that. Not to his face, though."
They both laughed at that, and the kitchen fell into a comfortable quiet. Arthur drank his tea and Alfred stared idly out the window, at the pale clouds filling the sky as if the weather hadn't decided if it was going to clear up for a nice afternoon, or rain again.
"So," Alfred looked down at the tabletop, trying to keep his tone casual, "I was thinking, maybe I could stay here again tonight. If that's okay." He glanced up at Arthur to find the Briton looking him at him with mild surprise. "It's just—I've stayed here two nights now, but neither of them were actually planned and it might be nice to stay on purpose, if you wanted me to. I could give you a ride to work in the morning. We could go out for dinner or a movie or something."
It was unusual for Alfred to seem so unsure of himself. They'd gone on, what, five, six dates now? And he was right, he had—consequently—stayed over twice without either of them planning on it. Maybe it was time he stayed over because that's what they both wanted, not just because that's how things ended up.
"I think that sounds very nice."
A hopeful smile found its way onto the American's face. "Yeah?"
Arthur nodded, reaching across the table to hold one of his boyfriend's hands. "Yes. You do, after all, love me, right?"
The reminder of his embarrassment turned Alfred's face a dark red and he looked down, but he nodded because Arthur wasn't wrong to point it out. What was he supposed to do, take it back? No. He might be an idiot, but he liked to think he was honest, at least.
Well, mostly. The whole "incubus" thing hadn't exactly come up in conversation yet, so not telling Arthur about it was actually a lie, more of a…truth avoidance.
Reassuringly, Arthur squeezed the taller blond's hand, still smiling. "I'd be delighted if you'd stay the night."
Alfred grinned and laced his fingers through the other male's. "Then I will."
X
It had been a while since Alfred used a shower like the one in Arthur's bathroom. It was a tub, or used to be, but had been updated to include a showerhead and curtain rack that he was fairly certain the Brit never used. He did know Arthur was fond of baths, after all. Still, the showerhead was high enough that he only had to duck a little bit to drench his hair, and Arthur kept the bathroom clean. Despite never having bathed there before, Alfred felt comfortable.
Humming, the American opened the curtain just far enough to peek out at the shelf Arthur kept his products on, careful not to let water drip all over the floor. A neatly arranged row of bottles greeted him, as well as a bar of soap set on a glass dish. Shampoo, conditioner, face scrub, lotion…Arthur had even arranged them in order of use, it seemed.
So organized, Alfred thought fondly as he picked up the bottle of shampoo and brought it inside the shower, closing the curtain to block out the cold air that had begun to swirl around his body. He popped the cap to the shampoo bottle and lifted it to his nose to smell. It was a fresh, earthy scent, like rain and trees, well suited to the Englishman it belonged to. Alfred wouldn't mind smelling like that at all.
He began to hum again as he poured a bit of the shampoo onto his palm and set the bottle down on the bottom of the tub, leaving it there while he lathered up his hair. The scent of it was stronger now, especially to his heightened senses. A minute later he ducked again to rinse, then retrieved the shampoo bottle and carefully returned it to its proper place on the shelf. He chose the bar of soap next, forgoing the conditioner and the facewash, since products like those had no effect on him.
There was no incubus dead or alive who ever needed beauty products. Just one of the perks of being a sex demon.
It took him mere minutes to wash and rinse, but Alfred didn't turn the water off right away. He didn't want Arthur to think he'd rushed and not cleaned himself properly, and besides, the running water was relaxing.
"Alfred," Arthur's voice sounded, accompanied by a few knocks at the door, "I have some clothes you can borrow until Feliks and Toris get here."
"Be out in a sec!" He twisted the spout to turn off the water and pushed his bangs back out of his eyes. Everything smelled like Arthur's shampoo and soap and Alfred couldn't believe he hadn't appreciated the scent sooner. Of course, he'd always thought the golden blond smelled nice, but this was such a pleasant, distinct smell that he should have identified sooner. He would definitely be appreciating it more from now on.
"I'll just leave them on the bed, okay?"
"Okay!"
The curtain rings jingled quietly as Alfred stepped out of the bathtub and into the cold air. He shivered slightly, reaching for the towel Arthur had gotten out for him, shook it out and rubbed it over his hair, down his arms and across his chest. Then the towel was wrapped around his waist, tucked into itself, and Alfred left the bathroom.
"Oh, I," startled, Arthur turned from where he'd been rummaging in his dresser, stared, blushed, and quickly looked away. "I was just…" he trailed off, face reddening further as he kept his eyes on the floor; Alfred laughed.
"What're you so shy for? You've seen me shirtless before, Artie."
The blush was spreading to his ears and neck. "Not like this."
Alfred leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest, lips pulling into an amused smile. "You saw me naked in the dressing room, when you came to that photoshoot."
"I didn't look," Arthur mumbled, his shoulders hunching, fingers curled around the hem of his sweater and green eyes averted. He was redder than a tomato.
That was a lie, and Alfred knew it. He remembered the way Arthur had looked at him, remembered the exact look in those green eyes as they'd stared. Arthur had most definitely looked, and Alfred had enjoyed it. Why was the Brit being so shy now?
He was tempted to find out—it'd be easy, he thought, to cross the room, tilt Arthur's chin up and ask what he was thinking. The shorter blond would blush and stutter and Alfred would smile in the way that always got him just what he wanted. Arthur would crumble, melt into a gold and green puddle at the American's feet. Easy. So he did.
A few steps put him across the room. The expected blush was already dark in Arthur's cheeks and spreading over the rest of him, his gaze carefully averted. His lips twitched up into a slight smile as Alfred lifted a hand, trailing his fingers along the edge of Arthur's jaw towards his chin. The blue-eyed blond's thumb brushed over his boyfriend's lower lip—he felt the slight gust of Arthur breathing—and he lifted until it was difficult for the Briton not to look him in the eye.
"Artie," he spoke softly as he tilted his head, eyes searching, "Arthur, babe."
"What?"
"Aw, come on. Look at me? Please?"
Stubborn little creases appeared on Arthur's forehead, right between those bushy eyebrows. "No. You're not going to use those bloody blue eyes and that charming grin to make me forget myself."
Alfred almost laughed. "Is that what I'm doing?"
"I bloody well know it is, you gorgeous git."
One of the American's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "Gorgeous?"
"Oh, shut up."
He let the laugh come this time, light and happy. The sound was enough to grab Arthur's attention, his green eyes flicking towards Al's face. And that was it. His face twitched, an attempt to look away, but he was caught. There was no breaking the eye contact he'd accidentally made with the taller blond, and they both knew it.
The smile on Alfred's face grew smug as he leaned closer, thumb once again caressing Arthur's lip. "Come on, Artie," he spoke in low tones, felt the Brit nervously shifting his weight, "I know you looked when I was changing."
For a moment, it seemed as if Arthur would argue, but then the creases in his forehead relaxed, and the tension went out of his shoulders. "Yes." There was a hint of resentment in his voice, as if he was unhappy to admit it, though Alfred still didn't understand why the Englishman had tried to lie about it in the first place.
"I dunno what you're so angry about." Alfred's eyes dropped to Arthur's mouth, where his thumb still held claim over that plumb bottom lip. "I thought it was hot."
Immediately, Arthur's entire body stiffened and his neck felt about ten times warmer than a second ago. Why did Alfred have to talk like that? So blunt and without worry? How did he know Arthur wouldn't react badly? Not that many people would react badly to such blatant flirting, and Alfred was his boyfriend, and they weren't exactly celibate.
Even thinking the word in relation to Alfred—and to himself, honestly—made Arthur want to snort. Celibate? Alfred? Impossible.
Still, this sort of interaction was far from what he was accustomed to, even if he was enjoying it.
"I, well," he stumbled over his words, not really even sure what he was trying to say. The American was just so distracting. "It…it's not appropriate."
"Appropriate? To flirt with your boyfriend in your own home? How is that inappropriate?"
"Your friends are coming. They'll be here soon. We shouldn't be doing this now."
"Mm…they won't mind, and I want a kiss."
Oh, Lord.
Arthur vaguely realized the edge of the dresser was pressing into his lower back. When had Alfred gotten so close? He could feel the leftover heat of the American's shower emanating off that sunkissed skin. A few drops of water that he'd missed while toweling off glistened as he moved. Arthur's throat felt uncomfortably thick.
"I, ah," he swallowed past the lump, hands lifting to hold onto the dresser as if he needed to steady himself, "a kiss would be all right." His fingers tightened their grip when Alfred leaned even closer, their lips almost touching.
"Just one?" the blue-eyed blond purred, lips curved into an inviting smirk.
He's not human.
No human could sound like that! So completely irresistible, like a simple kiss would be better than anything Arthur had ever experienced. It wasn't possible. How did he always manage to do this? How?
His self-control was weakening rapidly, completely overwhelmed by everything that Alfred was. A kiss? Why would he ever want to refuse that? No one would.
Releasing the dresser, Arthur instead wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and pulled the American down against him, his head tilting. "Maybe more than one." It came out breathlessly just before their lips met, Arthur's body curving to fit into the shape of Alfred's as he closed his eyes. The hand that had been under his chin slid up to cup his cheek. Alfred kissed him firmly, but slowly, and Arthur lost himself in it.
An arm circled around his waist, pressing into his lower back as if it were possible to bring him even closer than he already was. Arthur's hand moved up until his fingers found Alfred's hair, tangling into the damp strands on the back of the American's head. His breathing was already becoming uneven, air raggedly drawn in through his nose because his mouth was far too busy to bother. Alfred's hand left his cheek, fingers trailing down Arthur's neck then vanishing only to reappear on his hip. It slipped up under the Briton's shirt, warm and smooth, and settled on the slight inward curve of his waist.
Without fully realizing it or consciously deciding to, Arthur rolled his hips up against the other male. He was so warm, much too warm for clothes, and with just a towel on Alfred he could feel plenty. Fuck, this was hot. Alfred was hot. Arthur was overheating. He wanted more than just this.
Parting his lips, Arthur just barely tasted Alfred's mouth, an invitation to take things further. Immediately, the American's tongue was in his mouth, and Arthur let out a breathy moan, clinging tighter to doorbell rang.
Arthur had never whined so loudly in his life, which was probably saying something.
Slowly, reluctantly, Alfred drew away from the golden blond and gave a strained smile. "Guess Feliks and Toris are here."
"Bloody awful timing," Arthur grumbled, sending a glare in the direction of the front door.
The bell rang again, and Alfred sighed.
"You should go let them in, otherwise Feliks'll complain."
"Fine." Arthur leaned up and gave Alfred one last, hungry kiss before breaking away entirely and heading towards the bedroom door. "Better try to calm down, love. Your excitement is showing." He glanced back in time to see Alfred blush, and then was gone.
"Tease!" the American called after him, but Arthur had already disappeared down the hall, and Alfred was left alone to finish drying off. Not that he actually needed to, so he settled for sitting on the bed to wait for someone to bring him his change of clothes. Hopefully, Feliks had chosen something relatively tame, but this was some big grand opening party and he'd probably taken advantage of the occasion as an excuse to dress Alfred in something he'd never actually wear just to show him off as a model.
Voices drifted down the hall from the front of the apartment, mixed with familiar laughter and footsteps.
"He's in there," he heard Arthur say, followed by Feliks' thank you, and then the door opened and the blond nymph slipped inside before shutting it behind himself.
"Well, he smells horny," he commented by way of greeting.
Alfred didn't try to resist rolling his eyes. "Morning."
"What," Feliks grinned as he held out the bag Alfred's new clothes were in, "grumpy 'cause you didn't get any?" He paused and looked around the room, sniffing conspicuously. "Geez, that's fresh. Guess we interrupted."
Rather than say anything in return, Alfred merely took the bag from his friend's outstretched hand and opened to see what horrors Feliks had in store for him today. To his surprise, he found slim fit jeans and a comfortable old buttonup shirt that he never expected the nymph to let him wear out in public, at least not while they were out together.
"Satisfied?" The slender blond was obviously smug.
"Did Toris pack this?"
"No!" Feliks huffed and folded his arms over his chest, looking away. "I did, you ungrateful ass. Now get dressed or we're going to be late!" He stormed out as Alfred laughed, his muttering audible all the way down the hall.
Relieved and now definitely looking forward to this morning's outing than he had been before, Alfred dressed and toweled his hair once more to make sure it would dry quickly. Then he hung the towel in the bathroom—since he'd likely use it again tomorrow morning—and left the bedroom. He found Arthur entertaining his two new guests in the kitchen, refilling Toris' cup of tea.
"Hey." He slipped an arm around the Brit's waist and kissed his cheek.
A light pink tinge came into Arthur's face and he smiled. "Hello there."
His usual grin slipped into place and Alfred claimed one of the remaining chairs at the table. "Gonna be ready to go soon?"
"Yes, Arthur was just telling us about your date last night," Toris spoke before taking a sip of his tea. "It sounds like it was a lot of fun."
Alfred shot a glare at Feliks before the nymph could say anything inappropriate. "Yeah," he smiled at Arthur, "it was. But Artie was so worn out he practically fell asleep during the ride back."
"Well," Feliks gave Al a sly look, ignoring the bespectacled blond's warning, "after spending an evening with you, I'm not surprised."
Arthur choked on his tea and Toris studied the grain of the tabletop while Alfred and Feliks stared at each other. The nymph looked so smug that Alfred was tempted to say something inappropriate about how Feliks would know, but he couldn't in front of Arthur. He didn't exactly want the Brit to know that he'd slept with Feliks and Toris even once, let alone as many times as he actually had. So he smiled instead.
"No?" Alfred's tone was light as he leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I should give Toris some pointers, then."
It was the brunet's turn to choke on his drink.