Past-Part Fills Part 7
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Past-Part Fills Part Seven
Fills from past parts can go here!
Fills from the current part (part 22) MUST go in that part's post until it is full.
Link to the original request (and if an ongoing fill, any previous chapters/sections).
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And for some reason he really wanted to see Prince Arthur sigh and squirm. Prince Arthur, who hadn't yet boned any of the bevy of gorgeous Palace slaves he'd inherited, was stroking his hair and his jawline ... Alfred felt a thrill of anticipation shudder through his body and settle in his belly to join the hot pulse of arousal that already hovered there.
What seemed a very short time later, Prince Arthur stood. Alfred could hear the hush that swept through the dining hall and felt rather than saw the cessation of all activity, food-wise and sex-wise. But Arthur called out in a clear voice.
"I wish to retire, but ask that you all carry on as usual. Thank you for coming," he said, and bowed to his guests. Then he pulled Alfred up by his earlobe. Alfred's anticipation bloomed like fireworks in his cock; even his fingers tingled when Arthur looked at him. "You will follow me."
"Yes, Sire," Alfred breathed.
The Majordomo bowed and scraped as Alfred followed Arthur out on unsteady legs, made wobbly by kneeling too long and ... other things. "You should have a Guard along with this one, Your Majesty ..." he murmured.
"We'll be fine," Arthur snapped.
Arthur didn't lead him through the Palace but took a sharp right just outside the dining hall, opening the door to one of the building's back stairs. He motioned Alfred through, and slapped his bottom as he climbed the steps to the Prince's Chambers. Alfred had been there only once, long ago when he'd first been brought to Brixon.
The candlelight in the stairway was dim and their shadows long on the trek up. Alfred could feel Prince Arthur's breath on his buttocks, so close, like he might get a touch or a tongue or anything at any moment. He didn't but the eagerness for it was one of the most arousing things he'd ever encountered, almost better than an ass-greasing by Irina.
At the top of the stairs Arthur stepped past him and nudged one of the stones next to a salt-candle sconce. The door swung open into the Prince's dressing-room.
"In," Arthur said. Once inside he shooed away his valet, a Palace servant whose midriff-baring tunic and short sarong declared him a free servant of the Nobles. Tino-- his name was Tino, Alfred remembered. He scooted out and Alfred was left alone with his Prince.
Arthur had beads of sweat upon his forehead. He put a hand atop Alfred's head in an unmistakable gesture. "Very well, Alfred. Put your mouth to use, there's a good boy."
Oh, yay, cocksucking. Alfred knelt and pulled on the drawstring to Arthur's trousers, loosening them to fall around his slender hips. Arthur's cock was already hard; it was uncut, too. Alfred allowed himself a tiny grin as he nudged back the foreskin with his tongue.
Arthur gasped and then sighed, a long, slow release of breath. Alfred pulled his mouth onto Arthur's cock with his tongue, taking it in until he had to swallow and relax his throat; he hadn't been required to give oral for a very long time. Arthur didn't seem to mind, just trickled his fingers through Alfred's hair and swirled his thumbs along the sensitive insides of Alfred's ears.
Alfred shuddered and made up for his delay by swallowing as much of Arthur's cock as he could and rolling his testicles in his palms; he was lightly hairy below the waist, very nice. And even down here Arthur smelled wonderfully smoky. He tasted wonderfully salty, like the sea. He'd been a sailor, Alfred suddenly remembered hearing once.
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Alfred risked a glance up and Arthur sighed down at him. "You are a lovely shade of pink," he murmured, quirking an eyebrow.
He seemed to want a response; Alfred licked the tip of his cock, tasting some of the semen he'd already drawn out with his mad skills.
"I'm pleased to be pleasing you, Your Majesty," he said around his swirling tongue.
Arthur scowled and pulled his hair a little. "Cut the slave-talk. It doesn't suit you," he said.
"Yes, Sire. I know, Sire," Alfred said, unable to help a little grin as he did so.
Arthur hmphed back and pushed him away. "Come with me into my bedchamber," he ordered.
He led the way and Alfred followed, watching as Arthur shucked his tunic over his head, as he nearly tripped over his trousers at his knees. He threw his fine clothing on the floor, where Tino or someone would surely pick it up later. It didn't matter; what did matter was that Alfred was going to be screwed, and oh, he wanted it, even from a wiry shit like Arthur. Who was very polite for a Prince, admittedly, and turned Alfred on more than he cared to admit.
"Up there," Arthur said, pointing to the bed. "And on your knees, please."
"Yes, Sire," Alfred said, and climbed onto the bed and pressed his palms into the soft, slick covers and spread his knees and raised his ass and huffed to cool himself for he was hot all over, burning up with arousal, and it was going to last him a long, long, time, wasn't it? And yes, soon Arthur knelt between his slippery calves and ran his fingers over Alfred's asshole.
"How long has it been?" he asked.
"Uh. A year or more," Alfred admitted.
"Ah, wonderful," Arthur said on what sounded like a sob. Then he grasped Alfred's hips and drove his spit-slicked cock into Alfred's oil-slicked ass, and they both sighed into the still air of the room.
It wasn't still for long; Arthur began to move inside him, filling him with short, sharp movements that felt somehow graceful for all they spoke of a raging hurry. After a few moments his fingers tightened on Alfred's hips and his thrusts deepened, shoved, lingered.
"Yes, yes," Alfred whispered, not even having to remember his Training to show pleasure in the act of being fucked by his Master. He clenched his thighs and rocked his hips to match Arthur's rhythms, which changed constantly from slow and drawn to sharp and gasping. The bed whispered in well-sprung creaks at their movements, and Alfred's chain jingled as his swollen cock bounced against his stomach. He wanted touch so badly, wanted to balance on one hand to tug himself off, or beg Arthur to reach around and wrap his nice, calloused fingers around him. But he didn't, just listened to the creaking and the jingling and their breaths, growing louder in concert, and felt Arthur's cock pounding him inside, hitting every spot that was guaranteed to make him squirm.
How long had it been for Arthur, anyway? And was it a testament or a rebuke to Alfred's skill that Arthur hadn't gotten off yet, even after that blowjob?
Of course, his Master was a potion brewer. He could have cooked anything up for himself, like hold-potions. Alfred's elbows went slack at the thought of being screwed for hours, and he nearly collapsed.
Arthur jerked him back upwards, barely missing a thrust. "Up, up," he told Alfred in a raspy voice. "I wish to come inside you."
"Yes, please," Alfred said, and slave-talk or no, he meant it. He was more than willing to experience a climax at this point, even if it was to be secondhand.
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Moments later Arthur finally came, grinding his hips against Alfred with a last few jerking movements. Alfred moaned at the cessation of movement and Arthur moaned his long climax into Alfred's skin. Alfred could just feel it, could imagine that build and hovering edge of pleasure and gasping release, had experienced it himself only days ago ...
Still Arthur held him, catching his breath. Alfred thought his own might never be caught again. Finally Arthur released him and pulled away and out.
"Ah. Very good," he said, patting Alfred's ass. Then he lay down beside him and pushed at his shoulder. "Roll over. Let me have a look at you."
Alfred took a deep breath and did as he was bidden, settling his back into the now-sticky covers and staring at the ceiling. It was hung with ... well, they looked like rocks, little white and pink rocks hanging from glittering strings hooked into the wooden beams. Strange.
Arthur propped himself onto his elbow beside him, and Alfred could feel his gaze on his sweaty skin, on his swollen cock -- it had to be pulsing visibly, the way it felt.
Arthur trailed his fingers down Alfred's breastbone, tapping them in a staccato rhythm. "Very good indeed," he said. He gave Alfred's navel-chain a little yank. "Fine craftsmanship, there. These come from Francia, as do you, I hear."
"Yeah," Alfred said, still catching his breath. Then he belatedly added, "Sire."
"That asshole Francis. I took several of his ships, you know."
"Oh," Alfred said. So there was some kind of rivalry there Alfred hadn't known about? He wondered if Arthur's ravishing of himself had anything to do with that, and then he wondered if he wasn't being too hard on himself. He had his own fantastic Pleasure reputation, after all -- at least, he'd had one before he'd been banished to work on the Grounds. (Somehow he might have to get banished again, if he wanted out?) He watched the gentle sway of the rocks in the ceiling, and tried to simply accept the way Arthur stared at him, the maddening trails of sensation his fingers left on Alfred's belly, around his nipples.
Arthur broke the silence with a hmph. "Well, I can tell you have a question. Let's hear it."
Alfred's reputation wanted him to ask about it. But Alfred's brain worked sometimes, and he thought better of that. "Um. What are those on the ceiling?"
"What? Hmm," Arthur said. He took Alfred's chin in his fingers and pulled until Alfred was facing him, looking into those sea-green eyes. "Those are corals, from the Southern seas. I have land down there."
"Oh, cool," Alfred said.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "That's not what I expected. Come now, out with it."
Alfred sighed. "Why me? Here? I haven't been in the Palace for, like, ever."
"Hah!" Arthur smiled, liking that answer better. "I suppose I like to catch my own slaves."
Alfred shrugged. "But I already sort of belonged to you."
"Not sort of. Not any longer," Arthur said. He bent down to lick one of Alfred's nipples, the one he'd been teasing mercilessly for the last minute or so. Alfred moaned and arched up into the heat of his mouth. And then Arthur did the most surprising thing he'd done yet: he crawled over and settled between Alfred's legs, and leaned forward and kissed him. Alfred parted his lips reflexively, a little shocked at being kissed by a Royal, but more than willing to accept the frightening intimacy.
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Maddeningly Arthur never touched his cock, that oversensitized and begging thing, no matter how Alfred squirmed up against him or spread his legs to clench Arthur's scratchy thighs between them. So far gone from dignity was he that he wrapped his legs around Arthur's hips, drawn by something deep inside and beyond the reach of his conscious control.
Arthur was hard again. He knew when Alfred felt it against his belly, for he pushed himself up, licking Alfred's nose and grinning down at him.
"There is a potion in the fire, one I prepared -- I'm sure you can feel it yourself," he murmured.
"Unh, yeah," Alfred groaned. As Arthur pulled away he arched himself like a wanton, trying to regain that warm skin contact.
But Arthur wasn't leaving, he was just mounting him for a second go-round, and Alfred, so pleased he could almost weep, stretched and lifted one thigh over Arthur's shoulder, leaving his bottom open and waiting, burning and aching to be filled.
Arthur obliged, driving his cock deep with one thrust. Alfred threw his head back and cried out Ah, ahs of bliss. Obviously pleased, Arthur brushed Alfred's hair back from his sweaty forehead as he fucked him, whispering encouraging noises.
Oh, how Arthur fucked him good, rocked Alfred hard and dripped sweat upon his lips. How could Alfred ever wish to run again, when he had a Master that desired him so, made such wonderful use of his body?
"Good, good, my Alfred. Good," Arthur breathed, as Alfred clenched his straining thigh against Arthur's shoulder, his body meeting each thrust with little more than primal instinct. Arthur pounded the pleasure deep inside him, growing it and growing it until it couldn't go anywhere and just when Alfred thought he might burst from it, Arthur slowed his thrusts and his breath, his arms trembling with the effort.
He slowed until his rhythm was little more than a gentle, excruciating glide, slow as the rocking of a boat. Once more he brushed the hair from Alfred's forehead.
"What a pleasure it is to fuck you, Alfred. You are so rosy and slack-jawed," he said, smugness in his voice.
"That seems a little mean," Alfred huffed, feeling unfairly teased when he was being so good.
"Not at all." Arthur slowed to a stop and slid his cock out completely, shuddering as he did so. Alfred's leg slipped off his shoulder and he groaned at the cramp in his thigh.
Then Arthur rolled off him altogether. Alfred winced at the implications of not finishing a good fuck before his Master had climaxed, but Arthur merely smiled and flopped onto his back.
"Up, Alfred. Come and ride me." He pointed unnecessarily at his own swollen cock, wavering with every deep breath he took. "Ride me well and perhaps I shall give you a boon ..."
Alfred scrambled to untangle his aching body from the sheets and to heave a leg over Arthur's hips. He took Arthur's cock in his fingers and took along with it a deep breath before lowering himself, filling himself once more, sinking until his ass barely brushed the soft skin of Arthur's belly. He had to be careful; equestrian was not his finest style, and he'd been told more than once that he was too heavy and thus clumsy at it.
Of course he'd lost weight and ... it felt so good, darnit. Alfred sighed and moved up and down the hard jut of Arthur's cock, hitting himself inside just where he wished it. Judging by Arthur's expression, eyes closed and lips barely stirring, Alfred was doing something right.
Arthur ran his fingers up and down Alfred's ribs and sides and hips and Alfred closed his eyes, dug his knees into the covers and worked his thighs, rolling against the welcome pressure inside him.
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"Fuck yourself decently upon me, Alfred. I'm not made of glass, come now," he said.
"I am .... Sire," Alfred huffed, propping his hands on either side of Arthur's head for leverage. He moved his tired hips faster and Arthur urged him on, his fingers digging into Alfred's skin, and caught his gaze until Alfred couldn't look away, no matter how violently he heaved about. The look and the fucking and the bouncing of his cock and its twisting chain on his tender skin was almost too much ... almost.
"There ... there. Good," Arthur chanted at him, and Alfred clenched his ass-cheeks around Arthur's cock and moved in a rocking rhythm until Arthur gasped mid-chant and his eyes widened with surprise. Alfred felt rather smug about that, until Arthur used his grip on Alfred's hips to pull himself up, so close Alfred could feel his breath on his lips. "Keep going," he said. "Nearly there."
Arthur was directing the show completely at that point, with his mesmerizing gaze and his hands as they yanked Alfred's ass up and down, from side to side, and Alfred could do little more than hold onto Arthur's shoulders and wince and cry out pained ahs every time the tip of his cock brushed Arthur's skin, as the deep throb bloomed in his belly until it was tight, until it hurt, it burned.
"Open your eyes and look at me. Watch me," Arthur huffed between breaths of effort. Alfred opened them and watched, anchored from floating into the sea-colored nowhere by the solidity of Arthur's slimly muscled shoulders, bunching and unbunching under his fingers.
Then, oh lord, Arthur's hips worked in jerky circles as he neared his climax, and oh lord, he grasped Alfred's cock, pulling until Alfred whimpered like a child, like a first-timer.
"Watch me," Arthur whispered again and flicked open the latch on Alfred's ring. Like lightning had struck his spine Alfred came, with heaving gasps and all-over shudders. Arthur watched it all minutely, drinking in Alfred's climax with his eyes and closing them only once, briefly, as he breathed out his own release.
Still Arthur's hand stroked Alfred's cock, as if draining every last spurt of seed Alfred's body could muster, and rocked his hips for a few more thrusts inside as his own cock spent itself.
This time they both rolled apart as if exhausted, which Alfred was. When his chest stopped hurting from the mere intake of every breath and he'd overcome the marvel of a Royal letting him climax, he looked over to see Arthur on his back, lazily stroking his own stomach, spreading the droplets of semen over him like an unguent.
"We need another bath," Arthur said, as calmly as if they'd just finished reading a book. "If you please, you will stay here tonight, and every night that I wish."
"Okay. Yes, Sire," Alfred said, unable to muster up the sauce for anything better.
Arthur had a private bathing room, unoccupied even by slaves for assistance, and eventually he pulled Alfred out of the bed and pushed him into the steaming, scented water. Alfred dunked himself, letting the heat sink into his tired bones, until Arthur stepped over and pushed him against the stone. He kissed Alfred in the water and after a while he pushed himself out to sit on the stone edge and let Alfred suck him off once to completion, sighing and tracing the shape of Alfred's ears with his fingers.
Alfred was hard again from the water and the smoky scent of Arthur and of being wanted, and Arthur reclipped his ring, locking Alfred's arousal in to await ... something, Alfred didn't know what.
Back in his chamber Arthur pulled the sticky covers off the bed and tossed them on the floor, exposing clean blankets beneath, and Alfred slept tucked under Arthur's arm, feeling the gentle tug now and then as Arthur toyed with his chain.
***
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Everyone downstairs was all agog to whisper and gossip over Alfred's night in the Prince's bed, over the Prince's choice of a runaway as his first lay back at home. There was much surprise and perhaps some resentment on display when Alfred admitted that he was requested in the Prince's bed until further notice.
"Why, that's a great honor, Alfred!" Irina told him with clasped hands.
"Alfred is comely enough but nothing special," someone, somewhere muttered. "And it's not like there are a shortage of tow-headed Pleasure slaves around here, if that's what His Majesty wanted."
"Maybe he heard how blind you are, Alfred," Gupta joked.
"I think the Prince is very handsome," Irina, ever the loyalist, said.
Alfred thought Arthur was ... comely enough. There was something in him, anyway, that drew Alfred to appreciate his lot more than he might have if, say, Lord Bran had wanted him nightly.
He received his bowl of hot, boiled groats and sat down with Irina to eat. He sighed over the lack of honey on the table to sweeten his groats; in the Grounds stable they'd been allowed honey, perhaps because they were the ones who'd harvested it.
He was starved after his purging and his night of vigorous sex and he'd eaten half his bowl before he voiced a thought he'd been carrying around with him since the previous evening.
He bent close to Irina's blond head, but not so close they'd cause suspicion. "Surely there've been others who ran away? What made them come after me, I wonder?"
"Well, what I heard from Xiao Mei, who had it from one of the Masters, was that the Head Master had given His Majesty the names of the slaves who'd run away in the past year, and told what they looked like. They left on horseback just three days before they brought you back. Just you."
Horses. They'd covered in a couple of days what it had taken Alfred weeks ... He needed a horse. He had always ridden horses better than people, at least he'd been told. Not that Arthur'd had any complaints that Alfred knew of.
And speaking of ... After breakfast he visited the Healers to get the proper potions rammed up his tired ass, things to keep in tip-top, fuckable shape. And after that ... nothing. It seemed nobody had a job for Alfred to do except lay around and stay clean and wait to be screwed by the Prince. He wasn't permitted outside except on the tallest balconies, and he was by no means to be allowed near the potions room. Since he begged and since he was tall he was finally allowed to assist with keeping the salt candles lit, a job that at least let him climb ladders and move around, stretch out his sore muscles.
For every night he came to Arthur's bedroom oiled and aroused, and left in the mornings exhausted and sore and aroused. It was Arthur's whim whether or not he let Alfred climax with him, though he did so more often than not. He seemed to like the way Alfred looked when he did it.
Sometimes he asked Alfred to fuck him and Alfred did, enjoying the tight squeeze of Arthur's body, his hoarse cries and urgings. But those nights he was never allowed to come, just suffer a keening ache that never ended and a tiny desire to possess Arthur the same way he himself was owned, body and soul.
Sometimes there were boons. Once, after slow, leisurely sex that nonetheless left them both breathless, Arthur offered him a boon for an answer to a question.
"Why did you run away?" he asked Alfred in a quiet voice.
Alfred winced inwardly. "To ... to find my brother and my mom. To see how they were doing," he said. What he didn't say aloud was that, well, he'd heard of this land across the sea, where there were no Nobles and no slaves, and where everyone had an equal chance to live their lives as they pleased. To work as hard as they wished and love whom they would.
That place seemed further away than ever. Further than dreams, even.
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Alfred thought. He'd always wanted the impossible. But there was one thing ... "May I have spectacles?"
"What?" Arthur cried, and propped himself on an elbow to laugh at him.
"No, really. I can hardly see," Alfred said.
Arthur slid back down to nuzzle Alfred's chest. "Hm. No wonder you squint at everything. You look pained half the time."
"That's not fair!" Alfred cried in return, then added a "Sire," as Arthur began to draw slow circles around Alfred's navel, an erogenous zone he'd discovered early on.
But the next morning Alfred was allowed to choose spectacles from the storeroom. Ever vain despite his nothing-specialness, Alfred chose a pair that might not have corrected his eyesight completely, but which looked well on him (he was also allowed to look into a mirror that morning as well).
At breakfast Roderich approached him, a rare event, and begged to borrow them for just a moment. Alfred obliged and Roderich's fingers trembled as he slid them onto his nose. Then he sighed and pulled them off.
"No. They would not be enough. But thank you."
Love: Alfred had gotten the gossip on Roderich and it seemed he'd lost the privilege of wearing his own because he'd been caught out in a love affair with one of the female Pleasure slaves, an Elizaveta whom Alfred had never met. She'd been sold out up north, to one of the Palaces in the snow full of brawny, bearded warriors.
Roderich's lost expression, glimpsed by Alfred in that moment, reminded him of the question he'd slept on last night, what would have been a more pertinent question for Arthur to ask than why did you run away? That question was, why do you stay?
The answer to that question had doused some of Alfred's desire to escape, dimmed his dreams of running away to the western lands across the sea with his mother and brother. They'd been replaced by the way Arthur looked at him, the way he breathed Alfred's name. That possession of his soul.
Alfred had even discovered where Arthur kept his poisons and his potions, and he'd done nothing about it. Was he a traitor to himself?
Love. It made the ordered routine of Alfred's life as a slave feel so much less safe. It made life more painful than dreams.
That night Arthur laughingly removed Alfred's glasses, possessed his body with great tenderness, and then offered Alfred a boon if he would scratch his back just there. Alfred scritched at the unreachable spot, and feeling foolish and desperate, used his boon to ask a question of his own.
"Why don't you take any of the other slaves?" he asked, and as Arthur stilled beneath his fingers, added a nervous laugh. "Ha ha. Am I just that awesome?"
"No, just full of yourself," Arthur said, his voice sounding strained, as if it came from a tight throat. He cleared that throat and turned a narrow green gaze upon Alfred. "Perhaps I shall," he said.
The next evening at dinner he chose Natalya for his Pleasure, telling the Majordomo in a voice audible to everyone that he liked the fire in her eyes. That made Alfred burn, with shame at the shock of the others, with fear for having overstepped his bounds, and with some jealousy, yes. After all, Arthur had said he liked the look in Alfred's eyes but had never mentioned any fire.
Natalya preened all the next day, and that evening it seemed Alfred was still to be punished; Arthur called him over to the dais at dinner, only to order him to join that evening's orgy.
Irina, bless her, saw the look in Alfred's eyes and welcomed him with open arms and a willing body. She was soft and he kissed her breasts and held her close as he moved inside her and she made him laugh until the ache in his cock, in his chest, was nearly bearable.
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Later Arthur dragged him upstairs and pulled the spectacles off his face and asked him with a curl in his lips: "Did you enjoy it?"
"Yeah," Alfred said, straight and true. And Arthur's eyebrows (how had Alfred ever thought them like seaweed? They were manly and expressive) drew downwards.
"Well, it shan't happen again," he said, and with quick gestures he snapped off his Alfred's cock ring and unlatched the ring at his navel and tossed the set aside; the jingle as they skittered across the floor seemed unnaturally loud. He gestured at the fire in the hearth. "No potions, nothing tonight; just me and you."
He kissed Alfred with fierce, wine-soaked lips and Alfred moaned into his mouth, feeling naked and vulnerable, stripped of the tiny and powerful symbols of his life, anchored only by the mad grasp of Arthur's fingers on his body.
There were no arts he could practice, not when Arthur knelt between his legs and fucked him roughly, fingers clamped painfully around his ankles spreading him wide, holding him open and defenseless. All he could do was clench the bedcovers and gasp out his pleasure in sharp cries, knowing that pleasure was uncontrolled and could overwhelm him at any time.
Arthur chanted at him in whispers, saying, "You belong to me, only to me," and Alfred said "yes," and Arthur said "you're mine, aren't you?" and Alfred answered, "Yes, yes."
"Beloved Alfred. Don't you dare climax until I tell you," Arthur challenged with hoarse breath, an empty challenge because Alfred came even as he said it. Unfettered.
Arthur merely laughed and continued to thrust into him, pressing his palm into Alfred's belly until he jerked out his own climax.
In a quiet moment afterwards Arthur kissed the top of Alfred's head and professed the feelings Alfred, who knew him too well, had already guessed. "I haven't had any others because you were the only one I wanted from the moment I saw you," Arthur told him in a soft, hesitant voice. "Had I seen you at Market I would have bought you. Had I captured a ship with you upon it, I would have taken you. It's maddening how I want you."
I know how that feels, Alfred thought. (He remembered a certain sleeping poison ...)
When they recovered Alfred spread Arthur upon the blankets and rode him well, like a gentle horse (he'd have to find a horse right away, dammit). Arthur called him a "good boy, my boy" and Alfred knew he could be a possession for just a short while longer.
They bathed and made love once more after that, desperate for each other despite the lack of any chemicals in the air. And while Arthur slept, Alfred found his spectacles and tiptoed to Arthur's cache of potions and poisons. Arthur was a Hunter, and he had ships; let him follow if he could.
End
Comments are very very appreciated and thank you!
A/N: this is not beta-read and I had a hard time trying to keep Arthur in character, so pardon me for errors with either of those things.
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And the worldbuilding! Love it. So much, and yet it never feels like an infodump or extraneous.
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I never wanted this fill to end! I do found it fastincating that Alfred refers to sex "love making" at the end there. Very tragic and I love it!
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It's totally open-ended, but I think Alfred is very naive and has some surprises in store. As does Arthur. :)
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