Writing's on the Wall 1/9
anonymous
October 22 2010, 01:39:20 UTC
As soon as the front door opens, Alfred pulls Arthur inside and shoves him up against the wall. Arthur doesn’t really have time to react before Alfred is tilting his head to the side and kissing him, kicking haphazardly at the door. The door slams shut, and Arthur’s bags drop from his hands as he wraps his arms around Arthur’s neck and kisses him back rather enthusiastically. They carry on in this way, kissing each other quite soundly, until Alfred finally pulls away with a startled, shaking gasp for air. Arthur leans back against the wall, arms still around the back of Alfred’s neck, and raising one eyebrow.
“Hello to you, too,” he says.
Alfred grins, wide-eyed and shining. His visible happiness is so evident, it’s almost palpable. Arthur massages his fingers against the back of Alfred’s neck.
“Missed you,” Alfred says as way of explanation, still grinning and deliriously happy. “Hi.”
Arthur does not smile, but he feels like he wants to. His expression softens, in any case, and he strokes his fingers over the hair on the back of Alfred’s neck with tender reassurance. He manages to mouth out another greeting, but the words die because Alfred’s pressed his mouth against Arthur’s and he’s kissing him again, and like hell Arthur’s going to complain about that.
It’d been a couple of months since they’d seen each other last, and phone calls and emails could only last the two so long. Rather than pick Arthur up at the airport, Arthur usually insisted Alfred stay at home and wait for Arthur to get there. It usually meant for a more unselfconscious welcome back, as making out in the middle of the airport was generally looked down upon.
“I really hope this isn’t how you greet everyone,” Arthur even manages to joke as Alfred pulls back again, kissing at the corner of Arthur’s mouth once before pulling away, not managing to smother that brilliant grin of his, the kind that, under the right circumstances (now, for instance), could make Arthur feel like jelly.
“Oh sure,” Alfred says, calmly, though the effect is ruined by his grin. “I just jump every guy that comes to my door.”
“Hmmm,” Arthur hums, his fingers dragging through Alfred’s hair. “I think I’m jealous.”
Alfred presses his forehead against Arthur’s, and Arthur closes his eyes. He still isn’t smiling, but he feels like it’ll happen soon. Alfred, meanwhile, is just a little too giddy to even notice, kissing softly at Arthur’s mouth, reacquainting himself with the touch and feel of Arthur, after two months separation. They kiss for a long moment, Alfred’s hands cupping Arthur’s hipbones in the way he always does, and the certain stability that gives him is very comforting, after two months. It’s good that little things like that don’t change, the way his large, bear-like hands can cover his hips so easily, the way his thumbs swipe affectionately against the line of his body, even if there are several layers of clothing blocking the callused thumbprints from touching soft flesh. Alfred’s mouth slides over Arthur’s, and away, kissing along his jaw and over his ear.
And then Alfred is laughing in Arthur’s ear, and Arthur’s eyelids flutter just because the sound is so much more satisfying when heard in real time, not over the phone, not read in badly written emails as lol and lmao. “Your ears are all pink,” Alfred is whispering in Arthur’s ear. “And cold. Is it cold outside?”
“Freezing,” Arthur agrees, opening his eyes and staring down at Alfred’s neck, craned so that the other man can keep kissing at the shell of his ear, his warm breath quickly warming up the chilled skin. He leans forward, placing a sloppy kiss against Alfred’s jaw. “I missed you, too,” he finally relents, and can feel the smile against his neck widen as Alfred continues to kiss him there. “I must be a masochist.”
“Jerk,” is all Alfred says, pulling back only so he can pull Arthur to him again by his tie. This means the hands have regretfully left his hips, but that’s okay because one is fisted in Arthur’s tie and drawing him close, and the other is cupping his cheek rather sweetly, tilting Arthur’s face back so he can kiss him, and deepen that kiss.
“Hello to you, too,” he says.
Alfred grins, wide-eyed and shining. His visible happiness is so evident, it’s almost palpable. Arthur massages his fingers against the back of Alfred’s neck.
“Missed you,” Alfred says as way of explanation, still grinning and deliriously happy. “Hi.”
Arthur does not smile, but he feels like he wants to. His expression softens, in any case, and he strokes his fingers over the hair on the back of Alfred’s neck with tender reassurance. He manages to mouth out another greeting, but the words die because Alfred’s pressed his mouth against Arthur’s and he’s kissing him again, and like hell Arthur’s going to complain about that.
It’d been a couple of months since they’d seen each other last, and phone calls and emails could only last the two so long. Rather than pick Arthur up at the airport, Arthur usually insisted Alfred stay at home and wait for Arthur to get there. It usually meant for a more unselfconscious welcome back, as making out in the middle of the airport was generally looked down upon.
“I really hope this isn’t how you greet everyone,” Arthur even manages to joke as Alfred pulls back again, kissing at the corner of Arthur’s mouth once before pulling away, not managing to smother that brilliant grin of his, the kind that, under the right circumstances (now, for instance), could make Arthur feel like jelly.
“Oh sure,” Alfred says, calmly, though the effect is ruined by his grin. “I just jump every guy that comes to my door.”
“Hmmm,” Arthur hums, his fingers dragging through Alfred’s hair. “I think I’m jealous.”
Alfred presses his forehead against Arthur’s, and Arthur closes his eyes. He still isn’t smiling, but he feels like it’ll happen soon. Alfred, meanwhile, is just a little too giddy to even notice, kissing softly at Arthur’s mouth, reacquainting himself with the touch and feel of Arthur, after two months separation. They kiss for a long moment, Alfred’s hands cupping Arthur’s hipbones in the way he always does, and the certain stability that gives him is very comforting, after two months. It’s good that little things like that don’t change, the way his large, bear-like hands can cover his hips so easily, the way his thumbs swipe affectionately against the line of his body, even if there are several layers of clothing blocking the callused thumbprints from touching soft flesh. Alfred’s mouth slides over Arthur’s, and away, kissing along his jaw and over his ear.
And then Alfred is laughing in Arthur’s ear, and Arthur’s eyelids flutter just because the sound is so much more satisfying when heard in real time, not over the phone, not read in badly written emails as lol and lmao. “Your ears are all pink,” Alfred is whispering in Arthur’s ear. “And cold. Is it cold outside?”
“Freezing,” Arthur agrees, opening his eyes and staring down at Alfred’s neck, craned so that the other man can keep kissing at the shell of his ear, his warm breath quickly warming up the chilled skin. He leans forward, placing a sloppy kiss against Alfred’s jaw. “I missed you, too,” he finally relents, and can feel the smile against his neck widen as Alfred continues to kiss him there. “I must be a masochist.”
“Jerk,” is all Alfred says, pulling back only so he can pull Arthur to him again by his tie. This means the hands have regretfully left his hips, but that’s okay because one is fisted in Arthur’s tie and drawing him close, and the other is cupping his cheek rather sweetly, tilting Arthur’s face back so he can kiss him, and deepen that kiss.
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