Should've Gone to Vegas - Prologue
anonymous
March 1 2011, 15:08:49 UTC
Should've Gone to Vegas
Bothersome suits falling away to reveal skin. Sweat slicked bodies rubbing against each other. Alcohol stained breaths mingling together. A bigger heavier body falling on top of a smaller one. Sheets tangling around writhing limbs.
Loud moans and groans echoing in a large and luxurious hotel room. Long slim fingers digging into strong, broad shoulders. Long pale legs wrapping around tanned hips.
Furious and slightly clumsy thrusting and a creaking bed. Frame slamming against the wall loudly. Desperate attempts at drawing breath. Heat. Nails dinning deep. A sharp wince on a handsome face.
Blue eyes, smouldering and filled with lust. Burning. Mouth open around pleas of faster harder more more more. Tan against pale. A bruising grip on slim hips and a high whine.
They fall. Oblivion is a white light behind closed eyelids. Body going lax and unresisting, jolted but near desperate thrusts. Stillness.
They sleep.
A!A knows it's short, but she'll have more shortly. Honest! Title coming from "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas".
Nice! We're definitively taking this slightily different ways, I think I can say without spoiling my own story. :D I look forward to see how yours will go.
Should've Gone to Vegas [1/?]
anonymous
March 2 2011, 05:37:26 UTC
Anon1 is completely floored by the warm reception. Thank you so much, all of you. I-I don't even know what to say. I would answer to your comments but I fear it would only be flailing and incoherence. Thank you so much. ;3;
Waking up after a night of heavy drinking was without a doubt one of Arthur's least favourite things in the world. As much as he enjoyed drinking, he had never been very fond of the consequences. To put it bluntly, he would probably have become an alcoholic ages ago if not for his hate of hangovers and embarrassing last night photos.
He didn't open his eyes, instead choosing to simply remain where he was and puzzle out where he was because from the smell of the sheets and the softness of the bed he knew he wasn't in his own bed, and if that wasn't a point to freak out about, nothing was.
His blinding headache was drowning out almost everything else except the sensation of a substance that had dried and crusted slightly on his stomach, but he pushed the thoughts of his body aside to remember last night.
He remembered the social function, being dressed smartly in a suit and there for the sake of his company. He remembered his co-worker, Francis Bonnefoy, disappearing somewhere (probably off flirting with the many female celebrities) and he remembered starting to drink just a bit to get more comfortable with the thought of conversing with famous people and other businessmen who most likely couldn't care less about him.
It's after that his memories started becoming fuzzy. He remembered a stunning redhead in a revealing green dress with a mischievous smile on her red lips and a tall dark skinned man who made most inappropriate comments, most of them sexual in nature.
He remembered leaving their company with the excuse of needing to pay a visit to the men's room. He remembered bumping into a tall handsome blond with a white smile and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.
The memories were fuzzier and fuzzier after that, more alcohol and a long conversation with the blond. He remembered laughter, teasing and even compliments.
After that, only mere physical sensations. Heady lust, slight ache and an overwhelming pleasure.
He shuddered and relaxed, trying to take in more of his body’s current state than just the splitting headache.
His knee hurt as if he'd banged it into something, there was an ache in his lower back spreading to his arse. If that wasn't proof enough that his memories were correct, if slightly distorted, nothing would be.
He took another deep breath, trying to remain calm. He'd ended up in this situation before, too much alcohol and a one-night stand he would regret once sober. Not something he was very proud of.
A snore from behind him made his clear that his "partner" was still asleep; a small blessing in itself to someone who usually runs off and pretends that it never happened at all.
Arthur sat up slowly and composed himself, time to take the bull by its horns and discover just who he slept with last night. He looked to his side... and stopped breathing.
Alfred F Jones.
World famous actor Alfred F Jones lay in all his naked glory in the same bed as the one Arthur occupied.
Arthur stared, gaped and then he stared a bit more. Of all the people in the world, this man had not been who Arthur had expected.
As an openly gay and still incredibly famous and well liked actor, Alfred F Jones was an icon. A firm believer in true love and a romantic at heart, Alfred F Jones had been quoted more than once as saying that he believes sex to be something you should do with someone you truly care for.
Alfred F Jones having a one-night stand with your average businessman, and that was certainly what Arthur Kirkland was, was unthinkable.
But it had happened nevertheless. Because the bruises on Alfred’s broad shoulders weren’t lying, neither was the aching in Arthur’s bottom nor the two sets of bruises standing out starkly on Arthur’s pale hips and the dried cum on his stomach certainly didn’t.
Arthur shuddered and slipped out of bed. He couldn’t stay here, if he could just get away from this hotel room without being seen, then maybe Alfred F Jones would just think it an odd dream and no one would be the wiser.
Should've Gone to Vegas [2a/?]
anonymous
March 2 2011, 05:39:59 UTC
He dressed in a hurry, cheeks flaming as he had to limp around the room naked as he looked for his boxers. If the other were to wake up now, Arthur may never recover from the embarrassment. Once he’d finally gotten dressed he realised that there was one thing missing, his tie. He did not have his tie.
In the end, he decided that he didn’t really care all that much about his tie. He had dried cum on his stomach from a one-night stand with a world famous actor; a missing tie was the least of his problems.
He limped out the door, the ache in his knee making it next to impossible to walk normally. Once he’d closed it he leaned back against it with a hand over his face. He sighed heavily. At least he’d gotten out of the room without Alfred F Jones waking up.
As he limped towards the elevators, Arthur swore off drinking in public.
+
Alfred woke slowly as the sun shone in through the window of his hotel room. He would have loved to stay in bed and just loaf, but he had a splitting headache that refused to leave and he was also feeling slightly nauseous.
He blinked his eyes open with a wince, the light stinging his hangover sensitive eyes and causing his headache to spike. He cursed as he rolled around to his back and sat up in his bed. Turning his head to the left he realised that there was a grove in the pillow next to him and that the sheets had been disturbed.
Alfred may be an actor and not a detective, but it was pretty obvious that there had been someone in his bed not long ago. He winced and looked around the hotel room, not a sign of the other person. Damn.
He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. He rummaged through the different bottles he had standing there before finding the aspirin. He swallowed two of the pills dry before he turned to the toilet, he needed to pee.
Once he’d finished in the bathroom, Alfred stumbled back to the bed and dropped down on the covers.
Alfred thought back to the previous night. There had been one of those boring social events that Elizabeta, his manager, always made him go on.
He'd walked around, spoken to people who only saw him as a chance to get (more) famous and nothing else. As much as Alfred loved his job as an actor, he could not help being severely annoyed with all the fake people it brought along.
Like the people who would smile and praise him in public for being strong enough to come out to the entire world only to sneer at him in private that he should give up the charade and stop pandering to the LGTB community. Those people really made Alfred angry, maybe he wasn't stereotypically gay but it didn't change the fact that he was attracted to people with dicks and no boobs.
He shook his head to get back on track. The social event.
He'd mingled for awhile, just like he was supposed to, steadily getting more and more alcohol into his system to take his mind off the utter tedium of it all.
His memories got blurrier and blurrier but he distinctly remembered bumping into a handsome blond with green eyes, huge eyebrows and a dead sexy British accent.
He tried to remember their conversation, but it’s too blurry, he can’t remember more than enjoying the sound of… of… what was his name? Albert? Arman? Ar… Ar.. something… Arthur! Arthur… Arthur Kirk? Hehe, like Captain Kirk. Alfred snickered a bit to himself. He wasn’t sure about the last name, but it had definitely been Arthur.
Should've Gone to Vegas [2b/?]
anonymous
March 2 2011, 05:40:39 UTC
He had enjoyed Arthur’s voice and the way his face grew red when Alfred teased him, Alfred was fairly sure he had. Probably regarding his eyebrows.
He tried to remember more, despite the headache but it was hard, too much alcohol and laughter. Leaving with a smaller hand wrapped tightly in his own. The hotel room. Insistent kisses and… Alfred felt his face flame hotly. Oh god, he’d slept with Arthur. And now Arthur was gone without a trace.
He buried his face in a pillow and groaned. Arthur hadn’t seemed the type, as far as Alfred could remember, to flaunt having slept with a celebrity. But he also knew that Elizabeta would get her panties in a twist about it because Alfred F Jones don’t have one-night stands.
It’s true though, he’s never been fond of the whole fuck and leave concept. Turned out his drunken self was a bit too horny to care much about that.
He groaned miserably. Hopefully no one saw Arthur leave or this could turn into a shit storm of epic proportions. He did not look forward to when Elizabeta would arrive at his hotel room for the day.
Fuck.
Like I promised, more than the prologue. I hope you'll enjoy this fill as well, OP.
Once again, thank you all for your lovely comments. ;3;
I love how this is going in a different direction~ You have my heart, a!a1
The part of Arthur leaving his tie behind made me think of a Cinderella moment lol! Elizabeta being the publicist to a gay movie star sounds very appropriate -3-
I am loving this fill, most definitely. I can’t wait to see what you do with my prompt. <3
Should've Gone to Vegas [3/?]
anonymous
March 7 2011, 07:04:16 UTC
The minute Arthur locked the front door behind him he started stripping his suit off once more. He only stopped to take a towel out of the closet before heading straight for the shower.
The feeling of the warm water sliding down his skin was heavenly. The steam rose high in the shower and Arthur heaved a sigh as he started to wash the mess off his stomach.
He had, on his way home, tried to come up with an alternative explanation. Perhaps he had slipped in his drunken state and hurt his tail bone, explaining the ache he still felt in that area, but it didn't explain the bruises and the fact that he'd woken up naked. He was also quite certain that injuring his tail bone wouldn't make him ejaculate all over himself. Besides, he did fuzzily remember having sex.
He stayed in the shower longer than strictly necessary, the warm water just felt so good. As he dried himself off he felt exhaustion return full force and he thanked any deity he could remember the name of that it was Saturday. He wouldn't have been able to survive going to work after all this.
He got some aspirin from the medicine cabinet that he swallowed with a glass of water before he got dressed in his softest pyjamas and crawled beneath the covers, ready to fall asleep once more.
+
Alfred had pretty much fallen asleep again before Elizabeta arrived at his room with his publicist, Kiku Honda, in tow.
As much as Alfred actually liked the two of them, he was quite hung over, slightly nauseous and a bit depressed at the time so he'd kinda preferred it if the hadn't showed up at all. Especially since Elizabeta, as was her habit, simply slammed the door open.
"Alfred! Get your lazy bum out of bed, it's time to discuss your upcoming appearances," she said before she was even inside the room. Alfred, having come to see his manager a bit like a younger sister, just gave her the finger without moving more than absolutely necessary, head still face down in the pillow.
"That is very rude, I'll have you know." Her tone sour and Alfred could tell she was standing with her hands on her hips without looking.
"Elizabeta," he said gruffly, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I have a hangover and I am not very happy at the moment. Please be quiet or kindly fuck off." he heard an affronted gasp from the doorway, but he really couldn't care less at the moment.
There were a few moments of near silence, broken only by the closing of the door and the whispering going between Elizabeta and Kiku, before Elizabeta let out a loud startled gasp and rushed over to the bathroom. Alfred turned his face towards her and saw her standing there with a shiny deep green tie in her hands. His breath caught in his throat. Arthur's tie...
"Alfred..." she trailed off before turned her eyes from the tie to him. "This isn't your tie," she stated with outmost certainty, making Alfred wince slightly.
Instead of saying anything at all, Alfred simply buried his face in the pillow once more in hopes that she'd leave well enough alone and drop the issue.
Bothersome suits falling away to reveal skin. Sweat slicked bodies rubbing against each other. Alcohol stained breaths mingling together. A bigger heavier body falling on top of a smaller one. Sheets tangling around writhing limbs.
Loud moans and groans echoing in a large and luxurious hotel room. Long slim fingers digging into strong, broad shoulders. Long pale legs wrapping around tanned hips.
Furious and slightly clumsy thrusting and a creaking bed. Frame slamming against the wall loudly. Desperate attempts at drawing breath. Heat. Nails dinning deep. A sharp wince on a handsome face.
Blue eyes, smouldering and filled with lust. Burning. Mouth open around pleas of faster harder more more more. Tan against pale. A bruising grip on slim hips and a high whine.
They fall. Oblivion is a white light behind closed eyelids. Body going lax and unresisting, jolted but near desperate thrusts. Stillness.
They sleep.
A!A knows it's short, but she'll have more shortly. Honest!
Title coming from "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas".
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-sits back and waits for updates-
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sits next to above!anon
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Waking up after a night of heavy drinking was without a doubt one of Arthur's least favourite things in the world. As much as he enjoyed drinking, he had never been very fond of the consequences. To put it bluntly, he would probably have become an alcoholic ages ago if not for his hate of hangovers and embarrassing last night photos.
He didn't open his eyes, instead choosing to simply remain where he was and puzzle out where he was because from the smell of the sheets and the softness of the bed he knew he wasn't in his own bed, and if that wasn't a point to freak out about, nothing was.
His blinding headache was drowning out almost everything else except the sensation of a substance that had dried and crusted slightly on his stomach, but he pushed the thoughts of his body aside to remember last night.
He remembered the social function, being dressed smartly in a suit and there for the sake of his company. He remembered his co-worker, Francis Bonnefoy, disappearing somewhere (probably off flirting with the many female celebrities) and he remembered starting to drink just a bit to get more comfortable with the thought of conversing with famous people and other businessmen who most likely couldn't care less about him.
It's after that his memories started becoming fuzzy. He remembered a stunning redhead in a revealing green dress with a mischievous smile on her red lips and a tall dark skinned man who made most inappropriate comments, most of them sexual in nature.
He remembered leaving their company with the excuse of needing to pay a visit to the men's room. He remembered bumping into a tall handsome blond with a white smile and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.
The memories were fuzzier and fuzzier after that, more alcohol and a long conversation with the blond. He remembered laughter, teasing and even compliments.
After that, only mere physical sensations. Heady lust, slight ache and an overwhelming pleasure.
He shuddered and relaxed, trying to take in more of his body’s current state than just the splitting headache.
His knee hurt as if he'd banged it into something, there was an ache in his lower back spreading to his arse. If that wasn't proof enough that his memories were correct, if slightly distorted, nothing would be.
He took another deep breath, trying to remain calm. He'd ended up in this situation before, too much alcohol and a one-night stand he would regret once sober. Not something he was very proud of.
A snore from behind him made his clear that his "partner" was still asleep; a small blessing in itself to someone who usually runs off and pretends that it never happened at all.
Arthur sat up slowly and composed himself, time to take the bull by its horns and discover just who he slept with last night. He looked to his side... and stopped breathing.
Alfred F Jones.
World famous actor Alfred F Jones lay in all his naked glory in the same bed as the one Arthur occupied.
Arthur stared, gaped and then he stared a bit more. Of all the people in the world, this man had not been who Arthur had expected.
As an openly gay and still incredibly famous and well liked actor, Alfred F Jones was an icon. A firm believer in true love and a romantic at heart, Alfred F Jones had been quoted more than once as saying that he believes sex to be something you should do with someone you truly care for.
Alfred F Jones having a one-night stand with your average businessman, and that was certainly what Arthur Kirkland was, was unthinkable.
But it had happened nevertheless. Because the bruises on Alfred’s broad shoulders weren’t lying, neither was the aching in Arthur’s bottom nor the two sets of bruises standing out starkly on Arthur’s pale hips and the dried cum on his stomach certainly didn’t.
Arthur shuddered and slipped out of bed. He couldn’t stay here, if he could just get away from this hotel room without being seen, then maybe Alfred F Jones would just think it an odd dream and no one would be the wiser.
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In the end, he decided that he didn’t really care all that much about his tie. He had dried cum on his stomach from a one-night stand with a world famous actor; a missing tie was the least of his problems.
He limped out the door, the ache in his knee making it next to impossible to walk normally. Once he’d closed it he leaned back against it with a hand over his face. He sighed heavily. At least he’d gotten out of the room without Alfred F Jones waking up.
As he limped towards the elevators, Arthur swore off drinking in public.
+
Alfred woke slowly as the sun shone in through the window of his hotel room. He would have loved to stay in bed and just loaf, but he had a splitting headache that refused to leave and he was also feeling slightly nauseous.
He blinked his eyes open with a wince, the light stinging his hangover sensitive eyes and causing his headache to spike. He cursed as he rolled around to his back and sat up in his bed. Turning his head to the left he realised that there was a grove in the pillow next to him and that the sheets had been disturbed.
Alfred may be an actor and not a detective, but it was pretty obvious that there had been someone in his bed not long ago. He winced and looked around the hotel room, not a sign of the other person. Damn.
He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. He rummaged through the different bottles he had standing there before finding the aspirin. He swallowed two of the pills dry before he turned to the toilet, he needed to pee.
Once he’d finished in the bathroom, Alfred stumbled back to the bed and dropped down on the covers.
Alfred thought back to the previous night. There had been one of those boring social events that Elizabeta, his manager, always made him go on.
He'd walked around, spoken to people who only saw him as a chance to get (more) famous and nothing else. As much as Alfred loved his job as an actor, he could not help being severely annoyed with all the fake people it brought along.
Like the people who would smile and praise him in public for being strong enough to come out to the entire world only to sneer at him in private that he should give up the charade and stop pandering to the LGTB community. Those people really made Alfred angry, maybe he wasn't stereotypically gay but it didn't change the fact that he was attracted to people with dicks and no boobs.
He shook his head to get back on track. The social event.
He'd mingled for awhile, just like he was supposed to, steadily getting more and more alcohol into his system to take his mind off the utter tedium of it all.
His memories got blurrier and blurrier but he distinctly remembered bumping into a handsome blond with green eyes, huge eyebrows and a dead sexy British accent.
He tried to remember their conversation, but it’s too blurry, he can’t remember more than enjoying the sound of… of… what was his name? Albert? Arman? Ar… Ar.. something… Arthur! Arthur… Arthur Kirk? Hehe, like Captain Kirk. Alfred snickered a bit to himself. He wasn’t sure about the last name, but it had definitely been Arthur.
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He tried to remember more, despite the headache but it was hard, too much alcohol and laughter. Leaving with a smaller hand wrapped tightly in his own. The hotel room. Insistent kisses and… Alfred felt his face flame hotly. Oh god, he’d slept with Arthur. And now Arthur was gone without a trace.
He buried his face in a pillow and groaned. Arthur hadn’t seemed the type, as far as Alfred could remember, to flaunt having slept with a celebrity. But he also knew that Elizabeta would get her panties in a twist about it because Alfred F Jones don’t have one-night stands.
It’s true though, he’s never been fond of the whole fuck and leave concept. Turned out his drunken self was a bit too horny to care much about that.
He groaned miserably. Hopefully no one saw Arthur leave or this could turn into a shit storm of epic proportions. He did not look forward to when Elizabeta would arrive at his hotel room for the day.
Fuck.
Like I promised, more than the prologue. I hope you'll enjoy this fill as well, OP.
Once again, thank you all for your lovely comments. ;3;
Reply
I forgot my comment but it went something like this: Enjoying the story and hope you'll continue it! ♥
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Thank you so much for your comment! <33
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The part of Arthur leaving his tie behind made me think of a Cinderella moment lol! Elizabeta being the publicist to a gay movie star sounds very appropriate -3-
I am loving this fill, most definitely. I can’t wait to see what you do with my prompt. <3
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Actually, Elizabeta isn't Alfred's publicist. She's his manager. XDb
Awww, thank you~ I'm glad you enjoy it. <3
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Can't wait for more~ :D
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Hehe~ <3
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The feeling of the warm water sliding down his skin was heavenly. The steam rose high in the shower and Arthur heaved a sigh as he started to wash the mess off his stomach.
He had, on his way home, tried to come up with an alternative explanation. Perhaps he had slipped in his drunken state and hurt his tail bone, explaining the ache he still felt in that area, but it didn't explain the bruises and the fact that he'd woken up naked. He was also quite certain that injuring his tail bone wouldn't make him ejaculate all over himself. Besides, he did fuzzily remember having sex.
He stayed in the shower longer than strictly necessary, the warm water just felt so good. As he dried himself off he felt exhaustion return full force and he thanked any deity he could remember the name of that it was Saturday. He wouldn't have been able to survive going to work after all this.
He got some aspirin from the medicine cabinet that he swallowed with a glass of water before he got dressed in his softest pyjamas and crawled beneath the covers, ready to fall asleep once more.
+
Alfred had pretty much fallen asleep again before Elizabeta arrived at his room with his publicist, Kiku Honda, in tow.
As much as Alfred actually liked the two of them, he was quite hung over, slightly nauseous and a bit depressed at the time so he'd kinda preferred it if the hadn't showed up at all. Especially since Elizabeta, as was her habit, simply slammed the door open.
"Alfred! Get your lazy bum out of bed, it's time to discuss your upcoming appearances," she said before she was even inside the room. Alfred, having come to see his manager a bit like a younger sister, just gave her the finger without moving more than absolutely necessary, head still face down in the pillow.
"That is very rude, I'll have you know." Her tone sour and Alfred could tell she was standing with her hands on her hips without looking.
"Elizabeta," he said gruffly, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I have a hangover and I am not very happy at the moment. Please be quiet or kindly fuck off." he heard an affronted gasp from the doorway, but he really couldn't care less at the moment.
There were a few moments of near silence, broken only by the closing of the door and the whispering going between Elizabeta and Kiku, before Elizabeta let out a loud startled gasp and rushed over to the bathroom. Alfred turned his face towards her and saw her standing there with a shiny deep green tie in her hands. His breath caught in his throat. Arthur's tie...
"Alfred..." she trailed off before turned her eyes from the tie to him. "This isn't your tie," she stated with outmost certainty, making Alfred wince slightly.
Instead of saying anything at all, Alfred simply buried his face in the pillow once more in hopes that she'd leave well enough alone and drop the issue.
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