Wish Part 12/?
anonymous
June 12 2010, 14:17:41 UTC
Thanks for the comments, guys~ It's good to know that this is still being read. Anyway, it's finally coming to the end... one more update after this one I think...
----
Arthur wasn’t sure how it ended up like this.
He knew how it had started though. He had been talked into going back with Alfred to the US. Alfred had been ecstatic to have him visit and had even packed Arthur’s bag for him. When Arthur pointed out that Alfred was packing up what seemed to be his whole closet Alfred told him he just had to stay for more than just a few weeks. Arthur wanted to protest that, but then Alfred had fixed him with that look again and he had relented.
Arthur sighed. So here he was, lounging in Alfred’s living room and feeling the weight of his lies dragging his posture down. And it was painful, actually painful sometimes. The truth was on the tip of his tongue, restless to be spilled, but every time he came close to confessing Alfred seemed to somehow change the mood so that it was impossible to say it.
He looked up when he heard the floorboard creak and tried to smile. “Alfred,” he said quietly, nodding his head. It was getting harder and harder to act like the lover he was supposed to be.
Alfred was standing in the doorway, leaning against the door frame and watching Arthur with an unreadable expression. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, lips pursing into a thin line. “Arthur…”
“Yes?”
Alfred stared hard at him and Arthur shifted uneasily under his heavy look.
“Come to my room,” Alfred said finally, reaching out a hand in invitation.
Arthur sighed and put down the book he had been reading, book marking the page as he got to his feet.
Alfred smiled then, touching his shoulder as he passed by him.
Wish Part 13/?
anonymous
June 12 2010, 14:21:49 UTC
Alfred knew that England wasn’t happy. He could see all the small, telling gestures that he had been so blind to before. The way Arthur would sigh quietly when he thought he was alone, the way he wouldn’t meet Alfred’s eyes when they were in bed together, the way his smiles were growing more and more cracked. It was painfully clear.
“Clothes off,” Alfred murmured as he sat on the edge of his bed, watching with dark eyes as Arthur moved to obediently pull his shirt over his head.
Arthur was moving slowly, not to give Alfred more of a show, but out of reluctance. Alfred’s lips pursed into a thin line, but he decided he didn’t care.
Soon, Arthur was naked, and Alfred hungrily roved his eyes over his thin, scarred body. He beckoned Arthur forward and lifted his hands to graze his palms down Arthur’s side, feeling the familiar dips and lines of his body.
“Beautiful, you’re beautiful,” Alfred told him, not expecting a response.
Alfred pulled him into his lap and cupped his face, kissing heatedly down his neck to nip and mark the skin there. “And mine… you’re mine.”
Arthur was silent and Alfred shifted to lie him down, moving to lie over him, kissing his cheek, lips whispering across pale skin.
He lifted Arthur’s legs, bending them and pressing them back against his chest. “Mine, Arthur… mine…” he whispered feverishly, pressing two fingers into him and moaning at his warmth.
Arthur hissed softly and bucked up, legs giving the slightest quiver as Alfred knowingly hooked his fingers, spreading and stretching him wide. “Your mine, aren’t you, Arthur? Arthur…” Alfred refused to acknowledge the pleading edge to his voice. He leaned down and licked a trail up Arthur’s neck, kissing his racing pulse to encourage a response.
With fumbling hands, Alfred quickly discarded of his own clothes, tossing them over the side of the bed without once taking his gaze off his lover. “Say it.”
Arthur was looking at him and gasping softly in that breathless way he always did when Alfred moved his fingers just like that…
Arthur’s silence stretched and Alfred felt something, like a hot panic, jump up his throat and burn at his tongue. He snatched at the nightstand for the lube, pouring it clumsily over his fingers and his length as he nipped at Arthur’s shoulder a bit harder than he meant to. “Say you love me… I want…” he trailed off, a broken groan escaping his lips as he pressed his length against Arthur’s thigh, rubbing slowly. “Need…”
“Alfred…”
Alfred didn’t like the way Arthur said his name. He shifted then moved slowly into him, eyes fluttering at the tight heat suddenly enveloping him. He pressed Arthur into the mattress as he started thrusting, the slow slap of skin against skin steadily growing louder and filling the room.
Arthur made a strange, half sob, half choking sound. “Yours… I’m yours…” he gasped, his hands curling into tight fists. Such small hands, Alfred thought to himself.
Alfred reached down to stroke Arthur’s cock and Arthur groaned. “Love… love you…!” he breathed, voice cracking.
Alfred’s eyes softened and he leaned in to kiss Arthur slowly, murmuring against his mouth. “You too… I love you too.”
Bawww ;_; America, you break my heart! And Arthur too! Both seem on the verge of saying something and yet, are incapable in the end. Ouch. I think I'm starting to enjoy very much, in a sadistic way, how forceful and pushy America is becoming, and the way England's guilt makes him bend to his partner's every whim and demand. How will you end this? I can't wait for next chapter, authoranon!
----
Arthur wasn’t sure how it ended up like this.
He knew how it had started though. He had been talked into going back with Alfred to the US. Alfred had been ecstatic to have him visit and had even packed Arthur’s bag for him. When Arthur pointed out that Alfred was packing up what seemed to be his whole closet Alfred told him he just had to stay for more than just a few weeks.
Arthur wanted to protest that, but then Alfred had fixed him with that look again and he had relented.
Arthur sighed. So here he was, lounging in Alfred’s living room and feeling the weight of his lies dragging his posture down. And it was painful, actually painful sometimes. The truth was on the tip of his tongue, restless to be spilled, but every time he came close to confessing Alfred seemed to somehow change the mood so that it was impossible to say it.
He looked up when he heard the floorboard creak and tried to smile. “Alfred,” he said quietly, nodding his head. It was getting harder and harder to act like the lover he was supposed to be.
Alfred was standing in the doorway, leaning against the door frame and watching Arthur with an unreadable expression. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, lips pursing into a thin line. “Arthur…”
“Yes?”
Alfred stared hard at him and Arthur shifted uneasily under his heavy look.
“Come to my room,” Alfred said finally, reaching out a hand in invitation.
Arthur sighed and put down the book he had been reading, book marking the page as he got to his feet.
Alfred smiled then, touching his shoulder as he passed by him.
Reply
“Clothes off,” Alfred murmured as he sat on the edge of his bed, watching with dark eyes as Arthur moved to obediently pull his shirt over his head.
Arthur was moving slowly, not to give Alfred more of a show, but out of reluctance. Alfred’s lips pursed into a thin line, but he decided he didn’t care.
Soon, Arthur was naked, and Alfred hungrily roved his eyes over his thin, scarred body. He beckoned Arthur forward and lifted his hands to graze his palms down Arthur’s side, feeling the familiar dips and lines of his body.
“Beautiful, you’re beautiful,” Alfred told him, not expecting a response.
Alfred pulled him into his lap and cupped his face, kissing heatedly down his neck to nip and mark the skin there. “And mine… you’re mine.”
Arthur was silent and Alfred shifted to lie him down, moving to lie over him, kissing his cheek, lips whispering across pale skin.
He lifted Arthur’s legs, bending them and pressing them back against his chest. “Mine, Arthur… mine…” he whispered feverishly, pressing two fingers into him and moaning at his warmth.
Arthur hissed softly and bucked up, legs giving the slightest quiver as Alfred knowingly hooked his fingers, spreading and stretching him wide. “Your mine, aren’t you, Arthur? Arthur…” Alfred refused to acknowledge the pleading edge to his voice. He leaned down and licked a trail up Arthur’s neck, kissing his racing pulse to encourage a response.
With fumbling hands, Alfred quickly discarded of his own clothes, tossing them over the side of the bed without once taking his gaze off his lover. “Say it.”
Arthur was looking at him and gasping softly in that breathless way he always did when Alfred moved his fingers just like that…
Arthur’s silence stretched and Alfred felt something, like a hot panic, jump up his throat and burn at his tongue. He snatched at the nightstand for the lube, pouring it clumsily over his fingers and his length as he nipped at Arthur’s shoulder a bit harder than he meant to. “Say you love me… I want…” he trailed off, a broken groan escaping his lips as he pressed his length against Arthur’s thigh, rubbing slowly. “Need…”
“Alfred…”
Alfred didn’t like the way Arthur said his name. He shifted then moved slowly into him, eyes fluttering at the tight heat suddenly enveloping him. He pressed Arthur into the mattress as he started thrusting, the slow slap of skin against skin steadily growing louder and filling the room.
Arthur made a strange, half sob, half choking sound. “Yours… I’m yours…” he gasped, his hands curling into tight fists. Such small hands, Alfred thought to himself.
Alfred reached down to stroke Arthur’s cock and Arthur groaned. “Love… love you…!” he breathed, voice cracking.
Alfred’s eyes softened and he leaned in to kiss Arthur slowly, murmuring against his mouth. “You too… I love you too.”
---
Reply
Reply
Reply
America, you break my heart! And Arthur too! Both seem on the verge of saying something and yet, are incapable in the end. Ouch. I think I'm starting to enjoy very much, in a sadistic way, how forceful and pushy America is becoming, and the way England's guilt makes him bend to his partner's every whim and demand.
How will you end this? I can't wait for next chapter, authoranon!
Reply
Leave a comment