Writing's on the Wall 3/9
anonymous
October 22 2010, 01:41:04 UTC
So he slips his hand down off his face, over his neck, and down his chest, slow, raking down his body and wishing that pesky shirt was gone so he could touch Alfred’s firm, perfectly golden skin. He tugs at the corner of his shirt once he reaches Alfred’s belt, slides his hand over his hip bone, along the slope of his body, letting his fingernails drag a small circle around Alfred’s navel. He watches Alfred close his eyes, keeps his eyes on Alfred’s face as Alfred bites his perfectly swollen mouth, tries to suppress a shiver and a moan.
“God,” Alfred gasps out before he silences himself, and he ducks his head, the blush creeping up his neck and still biting at his lip. Arthur’s eyes sink to half-mast and he takes one step closer, sliding his thigh between Alfred’s legs and hitching up, feeling just how much Alfred had missed him.
Alfred’s hands fall, and one grasps at the hitched leg between his thighs, grasping at Arthur’s own thigh. He pulls it out from between his legs and steps closer so that their bodies align, and he shifts Arthur’s leg to hook around his hip, and Arthur can feel that lovely hipbone of his pressing against his inner thigh before he hooks his leg completely around Alfred’s waist and draws him close so that they are perfectly aligned in every way. The way Alfred’s eyelids flutter, for just a moment, means he can feel it, too.
“So, what, are we going to fuck in the hallway?” Alfred finally manages to get out before his breath hitches again, since Arthur is rubbing at him in a way that is not innocent or proper but fuck if Arthur cares.
“Brilliant deduction, darling,” Arthur drawls, his own voice shaky and much more affected than he’d anticipated.
“Jerk,” Alfred says again, without much venom, his hands resuming to the earlier task of unhooking each of Arthur’s buttons. “Prissy, over-dressed Brits…”
Ah, there it was. Arthur hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Alfred’s quips until he was actually saying them again. He rolls his eyes, regardless, mostly for show, because he can’t look too haughty when he so desperately wants Alfred and he’s right there, after weeks of not seeing him at all.
“At least I don’t dress a slob.”
“S’not like I need to impress you too much,” Alfred says with a booming laugh, his glasses slipping down his nose as he grins his lopsided, darling grin. Arthur really is hopeless when it comes to Alfred, regardless of how much he’ll insult his stupid, lovely face.
“Is that so?”
“Naw, I don’t need to put on the charm for someone I’ve already got, right?” Alfred says, all grinning and pleased as punch with himself. He’s finished undoing the last of Arthur’s buttons and pulling it, along with Arthur’s jacket, off of Arthur’s shoulders.
“You aren’t?” Arthur drawls. “Why do I even put up with you, then?”
“Cause I’m hot.”
True as that is, Arthur isn’t prepared to concede to Alfred’s ridiculous levels of attractiveness. “You,” he says instead, reaching behind Alfred so that he could untie at the shoe currently pressed into Alfred’s back, “are remarkably, overpoweringly conceited. It’s astonishing.”
Alfred laughs.
Arthur manages to pull his shoe off and lets it fall down beside his bag. He pulls at the sock as well, and almost shivers as the cool night air in the house touches at his feet once the safety of wool socks is gone. He tilted his head to stare down at his other foot, still sock and shoed, before looking back up at Alfred.
“Hold me,” Arthur instructs, then hitches his other leg up so that both are wrapped around Alfred’s waist. Alfred catches him in time, holding onto Arthur’s backside with a wider grin than before, cradling Arthur between Alfred and the wall as Arthur fiddles with his other shoe. “Oof, not so hard against the wall.” Alfred leans away just slightly so Arthur wasn’t pressed as hard against the wall as previously, but his hold stays just as protectively firm. Arthur wrenches the shoe and its sock off and let them fall as well. He lifts his arms and wraps them around Alfred’s neck again. “I’ll never understand how you got to be so ridiculously strong.”
“God,” Alfred gasps out before he silences himself, and he ducks his head, the blush creeping up his neck and still biting at his lip. Arthur’s eyes sink to half-mast and he takes one step closer, sliding his thigh between Alfred’s legs and hitching up, feeling just how much Alfred had missed him.
Alfred’s hands fall, and one grasps at the hitched leg between his thighs, grasping at Arthur’s own thigh. He pulls it out from between his legs and steps closer so that their bodies align, and he shifts Arthur’s leg to hook around his hip, and Arthur can feel that lovely hipbone of his pressing against his inner thigh before he hooks his leg completely around Alfred’s waist and draws him close so that they are perfectly aligned in every way. The way Alfred’s eyelids flutter, for just a moment, means he can feel it, too.
“So, what, are we going to fuck in the hallway?” Alfred finally manages to get out before his breath hitches again, since Arthur is rubbing at him in a way that is not innocent or proper but fuck if Arthur cares.
“Brilliant deduction, darling,” Arthur drawls, his own voice shaky and much more affected than he’d anticipated.
“Jerk,” Alfred says again, without much venom, his hands resuming to the earlier task of unhooking each of Arthur’s buttons. “Prissy, over-dressed Brits…”
Ah, there it was. Arthur hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Alfred’s quips until he was actually saying them again. He rolls his eyes, regardless, mostly for show, because he can’t look too haughty when he so desperately wants Alfred and he’s right there, after weeks of not seeing him at all.
“At least I don’t dress a slob.”
“S’not like I need to impress you too much,” Alfred says with a booming laugh, his glasses slipping down his nose as he grins his lopsided, darling grin. Arthur really is hopeless when it comes to Alfred, regardless of how much he’ll insult his stupid, lovely face.
“Is that so?”
“Naw, I don’t need to put on the charm for someone I’ve already got, right?” Alfred says, all grinning and pleased as punch with himself. He’s finished undoing the last of Arthur’s buttons and pulling it, along with Arthur’s jacket, off of Arthur’s shoulders.
“You aren’t?” Arthur drawls. “Why do I even put up with you, then?”
“Cause I’m hot.”
True as that is, Arthur isn’t prepared to concede to Alfred’s ridiculous levels of attractiveness. “You,” he says instead, reaching behind Alfred so that he could untie at the shoe currently pressed into Alfred’s back, “are remarkably, overpoweringly conceited. It’s astonishing.”
Alfred laughs.
Arthur manages to pull his shoe off and lets it fall down beside his bag. He pulls at the sock as well, and almost shivers as the cool night air in the house touches at his feet once the safety of wool socks is gone. He tilted his head to stare down at his other foot, still sock and shoed, before looking back up at Alfred.
“Hold me,” Arthur instructs, then hitches his other leg up so that both are wrapped around Alfred’s waist. Alfred catches him in time, holding onto Arthur’s backside with a wider grin than before, cradling Arthur between Alfred and the wall as Arthur fiddles with his other shoe. “Oof, not so hard against the wall.” Alfred leans away just slightly so Arthur wasn’t pressed as hard against the wall as previously, but his hold stays just as protectively firm. Arthur wrenches the shoe and its sock off and let them fall as well. He lifts his arms and wraps them around Alfred’s neck again. “I’ll never understand how you got to be so ridiculously strong.”
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