Reaching Reality - Part 3/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Title: Reaching Reality - Part 3/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, Canada, America/Canada, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: Starting at the base bone of Arthur’s spine and working its way up for a little more than five inches, there was the image of an upright electric guitar...
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“… Oh, I get it now - you called this,” Alfred paused to gesture around the room, “a date just to piss off those girls.”
He smiled as Arthur did.
“Exactly. I could see that those birdies were bothering you, so I decided to shut them up. Although, what I said has the whole rest of the school talking about how the new British kid is gay,” he said while crossing one leg over the other from where he sat at the couch. They were in the living room on the first floor of Alfred’s, currently empty, home, the dining room and kitchen also sharing this floor. “And I’ve been pleasantly surprised, there haven’t been too many rude comments. Most students seem to be accepting enough.”
Alfred nodded at this, glad that Arthur’s sexuality wasn’t under too much fire. His own would have the same level of understanding, however, his partner certainly wouldn’t. What they had together wasn’t wrong or hurting anyone, damn it, simply out of the ordinary… In spite of that, if he and Matthew weren’t twins, then there would be no need to hide their relationship, and he probably wouldn’t be seeking out something else with the boy he was standing across from in this very moment…!
“Good,” he said mildly in comparison to his rapid pace of thought. He paused and poured sweet ice tea into the two glasses he had previously set out on the coffee table, the pitcher he was holding chilled from the refrigerator. Its cold exterior helped to placate his sweating palms - why were they sweating? - and relaxed him overall. He laughed a bit after setting the pitcher down and seating himself beside his houseguest, “We need more diversity around here, anyway. And just look at you! Foreign and gay all at once-- Err, well, sorry, you know what I mean. You’re pretty special for our school.”
Arthur rolled his eyes in a playful manner. He swiped at him and stuck his tongue out, which Alfred was told had been pierced last weekend, as was evident in the glint of silver he saw, and went to pick up his designated glass of tea. A wisecrack was made about this not being the type of tea he was accustomed to before he took a long sip.
With the other boy preoccupied by the sugary drink, Alfred took this time to look him over for what must have been the third time since he had arrived. That tongue piercing was only the beginning of how decisively different their styles of dress were.
On a Saturday morning such as this, there was no school, and therefore no need to wear their usual, individuality-lacking uniforms. Rather, they were able to freely express themselves - Arthur was doing a perfect job of this, sporting black high-top boots and equally dark skinny jeans held in place by a studded belt. His upper half continued the frivolity, the Union Jack t-shirt he was wearing partially covered due to an, again, black vest and loosened tie. A pair of leather gauntlets and chained bracelets adorned his wrists, and it seemed to be a miracle that this was still Arthur Kirkland. The same student who dabbed his mouth during lunch hour and who had never been seen without his uniform freshly pressed, was actually a punk at heart. Hm.
Alfred, sitting a few inches away, slumping on the leather couch, wasn’t quite as flashy with his grey American Eagle brand t-shirt, jeans, and Converse shoes. The bright teal color of his shoes was most likely the showiest part about his outfit, and that was nothing in comparison to Arthur’s, well, everything. He liked that, he liked that a lot.
He was just… just so fascinated with Arthur. The sharp contrast between how he dressed outside of school and how daintily he held his glass stirred excited shudders in the pit of his stomach. His voice, too, accented and precise, gave him the urge to reach out and caress the mouth from which it came. Of course, he didn’t. But he was dying to, dying to express his feelings without appearing foolish and without getting himself in trouble. The worry of Matthew was continuously burning at the front of his mind.
“So,” Arthur said, interrupting the babblings of his host’s mind, after he had finished his sip, “where did you say your brother was? Ah, no, he’s your twin, isn’t he? I had somewhat hoped that he would be here, I haven’t seen the two of you side by side yet.”
“He’s doing volunteer work at the local hospital. And here,” Alfred nodded as he stood from the couch. He trotted over to the entertainment center that sat opposite of them, simultaneously switching on the flat screen television and grabbing a picture frame that rested on a shelf off to the side. It was handed to Arthur, his intrigued gaze darting around the photograph of Alfred and Matthew posing in their swimsuits on some Californian beach, both grinning. Over the buzz of the television, he explained while pointing at it, “That was on our birthday this past summer. Dad took us to Los Angeles… We’re pretty similar, but not really if you look at the details of our hair and faces and stuff.”
Arthur shook his head in comprehension, setting the frame down and saying, “Cute… I have older brothers, but they’re all back in England either in college or married. We don’t talk much… Though I take it the two of you are fairly close?”
“Yep,” Alfred agreed, glancing away when the word ‘close’ brought up the memories of their recent sexual encounters. He kept his mind from dwelling on it too much, and watched with weary eyes as Arthur picked up the frame once again. Those weary eyes widened when he noticed Arthur reclining slightly against one of the arms of the couch, his tight t-shirt, not tucked in, raising to expose a bit of skin. Deliciously pale skin that caused him to thirst for his own glass of tea. It was certainly enough to catch his attention and barely take note of what was said next.
“You two play off each other well. It sort of reminds me of-- Oh, no!”
Having been casually tossing the frame back and fourth in his hands while leaning, it had slipped and fallen behind him. A subsequent crack! was heard and they shared a flinch. Arthur was quick to apologize, flipping himself to bend over the arm of the couch in order to reach the mess, stretching his body. The action, combined with his t-shirt’s tendency to lift, made for most of his lower back to be exposed. Alfred’s focus was involuntarily drawn there and his eyes were soon like saucers. The sight was so slim and smooth and… tattooed?
Starting at the base bone of Arthur’s spine and working its way up for a little more than five inches, there was the image of an upright electric guitar. It was boldly outlined in black, the face of the guitar colored with the same Union Jack design as his t-shirt. What’s more, a correspondingly outlined ribbon snaked around the neck and top half of the guitar, the words ‘Hot Six String’ written in cursive along it. The entire thing stood out quite intensely on that otherwise milky-white hide.
“Whoa,” Alfred was unable to stop himself from blurting, dropping all thoughts of Matthew and the risk of the situation here, similar to how frame had been dropped. He blinked several times and swallowed back the powerful urge to touch. “Nice ink.”
Damn, Arthur was turning out to be one hardcore punk, and one sexy beast.
“Hm? Oh, yes, that… I had it put on before I left England, somewhat of a goodbye gift,” Arthur informed him. He stopped reaching for the shattered frame and straightened his posture, actually raising the bottom hem of his t-shirt further to allow for a better view, as if he were encouraging Alfred to slip into a state of total lust - and that’s exactly what he did.
“You got this done on your own? I guess since you’re of age, you didn’t have to have a parent sign you off on it, huh?” he questioned while gambling a brief tap of the tattoo with his index finger at the center of the guitar. That tap soon morphed into a stroke, his finger applying a light pressure and tracing the ribbon in sheer absorption. The speed of his stroke increased upon noticing a gentle quiver in the other, controlled and still bearing some wild element. He bit his lower lip in exhilaration and murmured, “It’s awesome.”
“Thank you…”
“I mean, it looks really, really good.”
“Alfred, you’re touching me.”
Startled, he drew away at the words. His palm had been placed flat against Arthur’s tattoo, unobserved by himself, and was now clutching at his chest, embarrassed from his lack of self-restraint. His heart was thumping loudly, as well, he could feel it. And it shouldn’t be! This was wrong! Well, what he and Matthew had was also considered wrong, although that was the issue - he was in an established relationship, however fucked up it was, and he had no entitlement to cheating, or whatever the hell was happening here. He glanced in a random direction and returned to his former sitting position, having edged toward Arthur. He grabbed his abandoned glass of tea and began to drink, rendering himself incapable of speaking for a moment.
Arthur, his t-shirt released to cover the inked skin and with one eyebrow cocked, said, “I’m tired of talking about my unimportant tattoo, I want to hear something about you. Tell me… Aren’t you bothered by what people say at school? You’re definitely one of the more popular upperclassmen, so it’s no wonder why everyone wonders what you like.”
Alfred kept silent and didn’t turn to face him. He set his glass down on the table, the sweetness of it seeming to turn sour in the back of his throat as he failed to come up with a snappy reply. Fuck! It wasn’t usually this difficult to respond to these types of inquiries, why was it such a challenge with Arthur!? He opened his mouth, and not a word left it.
“Doesn’t it bother you that they whisper and create rumors for no other reason than to see if it will get a reaction from you?”
“… Uhm, yeah, it does. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Alfred finally answered with a shrug. He shifted slightly and perked his head to stare at the shorter blonde. “It’s like you said, I’m popular, I guess, so none of the stuff that’s said is too mean.”
He winced when he heard the first following question, having recognized its inevitability.
“I see. So then, what do you like? Am I allowed to ask?”
Squirming in his seat and awkwardly rubbing the side of his neck, Alfred returned to his quiet demeanor. He hated how ridiculous he must have appeared. How obvious. And, for a second time, he found himself struggling to lie to Arthur or to give him a strong response. He quit his inner musings and attempted to combat the blush spreading on his cheeks, Arthur having moved closer to him. They were separated by less than a foot, that distance shrinking for each passing second, due to Arthur and his furthered nerve to lean in. The sugar from the tea could be tasted amongst their mixed breaths.
“What if I kissed you? Would you push me away because you’re straight?” Arthur asked, becoming more daring. He then rested both hands on either of Alfred’s shoulders. He waited.
“N-No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t push you away.”
“Then it’s safe to say that you’re gay?”
“… Yeah. And that I’m glad you’re the same way,” Alfred mumbled with a hint of shame, his own hands shifting to rest at Arthur’s hips. Hey, if he was going to confess his sexuality, he might as well confess who that sexuality drove him toward. To him, it felt like the best course to take, especially when it was flowing so naturally and when those emerald green eyes were twinkling at him, that charming chuckle causing his ears to perk. Yes, yes! He wanted this so badly!
Their lips met softly at first, each frightened of moving too fast for the other. However, after several reassuring squeezes at the shoulders and hips, Alfred was soon sucking on the most sensitive areas of Arthur’s tongue, near and on his piercing, with the groaning British boy in his lap and dry-humping him in an effort to satisfy the bulges in their pants…
Matthew would come home to a settled house later that evening. Arthur had taken his leave about an hour after lunch, and Alfred was presently in the shower upstairs, washing off some minor stains from in-between his legs. This left Matthew alone with only the sounds of the water running and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room… The living room… He stepped into it, and narrowed his gaze upon seeing the smashing picture frame of him and his beloved twin to the side of the couch. He was confused, and for every shard of glass that he gathered and that pierced his fingers, a new question probed his mind. Angry, suspicious questions. The rage that was building up within him was as red as the blood drops on the floor.
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Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, Canada, America/Canada, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: Starting at the base bone of Arthur’s spine and working its way up for a little more than five inches, there was the image of an upright electric guitar...
-----
“… Oh, I get it now - you called this,” Alfred paused to gesture around the room, “a date just to piss off those girls.”
He smiled as Arthur did.
“Exactly. I could see that those birdies were bothering you, so I decided to shut them up. Although, what I said has the whole rest of the school talking about how the new British kid is gay,” he said while crossing one leg over the other from where he sat at the couch. They were in the living room on the first floor of Alfred’s, currently empty, home, the dining room and kitchen also sharing this floor. “And I’ve been pleasantly surprised, there haven’t been too many rude comments. Most students seem to be accepting enough.”
Alfred nodded at this, glad that Arthur’s sexuality wasn’t under too much fire. His own would have the same level of understanding, however, his partner certainly wouldn’t. What they had together wasn’t wrong or hurting anyone, damn it, simply out of the ordinary… In spite of that, if he and Matthew weren’t twins, then there would be no need to hide their relationship, and he probably wouldn’t be seeking out something else with the boy he was standing across from in this very moment…!
“Good,” he said mildly in comparison to his rapid pace of thought. He paused and poured sweet ice tea into the two glasses he had previously set out on the coffee table, the pitcher he was holding chilled from the refrigerator. Its cold exterior helped to placate his sweating palms - why were they sweating? - and relaxed him overall. He laughed a bit after setting the pitcher down and seating himself beside his houseguest, “We need more diversity around here, anyway. And just look at you! Foreign and gay all at once-- Err, well, sorry, you know what I mean. You’re pretty special for our school.”
Arthur rolled his eyes in a playful manner. He swiped at him and stuck his tongue out, which Alfred was told had been pierced last weekend, as was evident in the glint of silver he saw, and went to pick up his designated glass of tea. A wisecrack was made about this not being the type of tea he was accustomed to before he took a long sip.
With the other boy preoccupied by the sugary drink, Alfred took this time to look him over for what must have been the third time since he had arrived. That tongue piercing was only the beginning of how decisively different their styles of dress were.
On a Saturday morning such as this, there was no school, and therefore no need to wear their usual, individuality-lacking uniforms. Rather, they were able to freely express themselves - Arthur was doing a perfect job of this, sporting black high-top boots and equally dark skinny jeans held in place by a studded belt. His upper half continued the frivolity, the Union Jack t-shirt he was wearing partially covered due to an, again, black vest and loosened tie. A pair of leather gauntlets and chained bracelets adorned his wrists, and it seemed to be a miracle that this was still Arthur Kirkland. The same student who dabbed his mouth during lunch hour and who had never been seen without his uniform freshly pressed, was actually a punk at heart. Hm.
Alfred, sitting a few inches away, slumping on the leather couch, wasn’t quite as flashy with his grey American Eagle brand t-shirt, jeans, and Converse shoes. The bright teal color of his shoes was most likely the showiest part about his outfit, and that was nothing in comparison to Arthur’s, well, everything. He liked that, he liked that a lot.
He was just… just so fascinated with Arthur. The sharp contrast between how he dressed outside of school and how daintily he held his glass stirred excited shudders in the pit of his stomach. His voice, too, accented and precise, gave him the urge to reach out and caress the mouth from which it came. Of course, he didn’t. But he was dying to, dying to express his feelings without appearing foolish and without getting himself in trouble. The worry of Matthew was continuously burning at the front of his mind.
“So,” Arthur said, interrupting the babblings of his host’s mind, after he had finished his sip, “where did you say your brother was? Ah, no, he’s your twin, isn’t he? I had somewhat hoped that he would be here, I haven’t seen the two of you side by side yet.”
“He’s doing volunteer work at the local hospital. And here,” Alfred nodded as he stood from the couch. He trotted over to the entertainment center that sat opposite of them, simultaneously switching on the flat screen television and grabbing a picture frame that rested on a shelf off to the side. It was handed to Arthur, his intrigued gaze darting around the photograph of Alfred and Matthew posing in their swimsuits on some Californian beach, both grinning. Over the buzz of the television, he explained while pointing at it, “That was on our birthday this past summer. Dad took us to Los Angeles… We’re pretty similar, but not really if you look at the details of our hair and faces and stuff.”
Arthur shook his head in comprehension, setting the frame down and saying, “Cute… I have older brothers, but they’re all back in England either in college or married. We don’t talk much… Though I take it the two of you are fairly close?”
“Yep,” Alfred agreed, glancing away when the word ‘close’ brought up the memories of their recent sexual encounters. He kept his mind from dwelling on it too much, and watched with weary eyes as Arthur picked up the frame once again. Those weary eyes widened when he noticed Arthur reclining slightly against one of the arms of the couch, his tight t-shirt, not tucked in, raising to expose a bit of skin. Deliciously pale skin that caused him to thirst for his own glass of tea. It was certainly enough to catch his attention and barely take note of what was said next.
“You two play off each other well. It sort of reminds me of-- Oh, no!”
Having been casually tossing the frame back and fourth in his hands while leaning, it had slipped and fallen behind him. A subsequent crack! was heard and they shared a flinch. Arthur was quick to apologize, flipping himself to bend over the arm of the couch in order to reach the mess, stretching his body. The action, combined with his t-shirt’s tendency to lift, made for most of his lower back to be exposed. Alfred’s focus was involuntarily drawn there and his eyes were soon like saucers. The sight was so slim and smooth and… tattooed?
Starting at the base bone of Arthur’s spine and working its way up for a little more than five inches, there was the image of an upright electric guitar. It was boldly outlined in black, the face of the guitar colored with the same Union Jack design as his t-shirt. What’s more, a correspondingly outlined ribbon snaked around the neck and top half of the guitar, the words ‘Hot Six String’ written in cursive along it. The entire thing stood out quite intensely on that otherwise milky-white hide.
“Whoa,” Alfred was unable to stop himself from blurting, dropping all thoughts of Matthew and the risk of the situation here, similar to how frame had been dropped. He blinked several times and swallowed back the powerful urge to touch. “Nice ink.”
Damn, Arthur was turning out to be one hardcore punk, and one sexy beast.
“Hm? Oh, yes, that… I had it put on before I left England, somewhat of a goodbye gift,” Arthur informed him. He stopped reaching for the shattered frame and straightened his posture, actually raising the bottom hem of his t-shirt further to allow for a better view, as if he were encouraging Alfred to slip into a state of total lust - and that’s exactly what he did.
“You got this done on your own? I guess since you’re of age, you didn’t have to have a parent sign you off on it, huh?” he questioned while gambling a brief tap of the tattoo with his index finger at the center of the guitar. That tap soon morphed into a stroke, his finger applying a light pressure and tracing the ribbon in sheer absorption. The speed of his stroke increased upon noticing a gentle quiver in the other, controlled and still bearing some wild element. He bit his lower lip in exhilaration and murmured, “It’s awesome.”
“Thank you…”
“I mean, it looks really, really good.”
“Alfred, you’re touching me.”
Startled, he drew away at the words. His palm had been placed flat against Arthur’s tattoo, unobserved by himself, and was now clutching at his chest, embarrassed from his lack of self-restraint. His heart was thumping loudly, as well, he could feel it. And it shouldn’t be! This was wrong! Well, what he and Matthew had was also considered wrong, although that was the issue - he was in an established relationship, however fucked up it was, and he had no entitlement to cheating, or whatever the hell was happening here. He glanced in a random direction and returned to his former sitting position, having edged toward Arthur. He grabbed his abandoned glass of tea and began to drink, rendering himself incapable of speaking for a moment.
Arthur, his t-shirt released to cover the inked skin and with one eyebrow cocked, said, “I’m tired of talking about my unimportant tattoo, I want to hear something about you. Tell me… Aren’t you bothered by what people say at school? You’re definitely one of the more popular upperclassmen, so it’s no wonder why everyone wonders what you like.”
Alfred kept silent and didn’t turn to face him. He set his glass down on the table, the sweetness of it seeming to turn sour in the back of his throat as he failed to come up with a snappy reply. Fuck! It wasn’t usually this difficult to respond to these types of inquiries, why was it such a challenge with Arthur!? He opened his mouth, and not a word left it.
“Doesn’t it bother you that they whisper and create rumors for no other reason than to see if it will get a reaction from you?”
“… Uhm, yeah, it does. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Alfred finally answered with a shrug. He shifted slightly and perked his head to stare at the shorter blonde. “It’s like you said, I’m popular, I guess, so none of the stuff that’s said is too mean.”
He winced when he heard the first following question, having recognized its inevitability.
“I see. So then, what do you like? Am I allowed to ask?”
Squirming in his seat and awkwardly rubbing the side of his neck, Alfred returned to his quiet demeanor. He hated how ridiculous he must have appeared. How obvious. And, for a second time, he found himself struggling to lie to Arthur or to give him a strong response. He quit his inner musings and attempted to combat the blush spreading on his cheeks, Arthur having moved closer to him. They were separated by less than a foot, that distance shrinking for each passing second, due to Arthur and his furthered nerve to lean in. The sugar from the tea could be tasted amongst their mixed breaths.
“What if I kissed you? Would you push me away because you’re straight?” Arthur asked, becoming more daring. He then rested both hands on either of Alfred’s shoulders. He waited.
“N-No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t push you away.”
“Then it’s safe to say that you’re gay?”
“… Yeah. And that I’m glad you’re the same way,” Alfred mumbled with a hint of shame, his own hands shifting to rest at Arthur’s hips. Hey, if he was going to confess his sexuality, he might as well confess who that sexuality drove him toward. To him, it felt like the best course to take, especially when it was flowing so naturally and when those emerald green eyes were twinkling at him, that charming chuckle causing his ears to perk. Yes, yes! He wanted this so badly!
Their lips met softly at first, each frightened of moving too fast for the other. However, after several reassuring squeezes at the shoulders and hips, Alfred was soon sucking on the most sensitive areas of Arthur’s tongue, near and on his piercing, with the groaning British boy in his lap and dry-humping him in an effort to satisfy the bulges in their pants…
Matthew would come home to a settled house later that evening. Arthur had taken his leave about an hour after lunch, and Alfred was presently in the shower upstairs, washing off some minor stains from in-between his legs. This left Matthew alone with only the sounds of the water running and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room… The living room… He stepped into it, and narrowed his gaze upon seeing the smashing picture frame of him and his beloved twin to the side of the couch. He was confused, and for every shard of glass that he gathered and that pierced his fingers, a new question probed his mind. Angry, suspicious questions. The rage that was building up within him was as red as the blood drops on the floor.
-----
Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~