[sequel] still crazy after all these years (2/?)
anonymous
May 6 2009, 05:40:40 UTC
Still Crazy After All These Years - part two
Arthur looks at the tiny soldier in Alfred's hand. He could just let it go. He should just let it go.
But this is Alfred. Somehow, "should" rarely has entered into it when it comes to Alfred.
"Teething."
Alfred looks up. "You weren't nursing," Arthur says. "You were teething." He forces himself not to look away.
"On you?" A chuckle rumbles up from Alfred's chest to tumble from the corners of his wide grin.
To conceal the fact that he doesn't share in the hilarity and therefore can't return the smile, Arthur raises his teacup to his lips. "Mm," he confirms from behind the cup. He takes a sip, breathes in the steam. Wonderful stuff, tea. It can always be counted upon to soothe and steady the nerves. Lowering the cup to his lap, he says lightly, conversationally, "You wouldn't take to the traditional teething aids." He even manages a smile as he goes on diffidently, "So I let you gnaw on me." Then for good measure, he adds, "Now don't let me catch you saying I never did anything for you."
"I never say that." If possible, Alfred's grin widens as his amusement increases. The boy always did like stories featuring himself. "You let me chew on your nipple?"
"Indeed."
As Arthur raises the cup again, Arthur's hand sneaks under his arm and beneath his jacket to tweak Arthur's nipple.
Arthur manages not to gasp aloud, but he does lose his grip on the teacup. Tea splashes out in a darkening stain over the carpet.
"Shit!" Alfred bends down to retrieve the teacup. Arthur doesn't look at him when he straightens. "It's not broken, at least. Sorry about the carpet, though. I didn't think you'd react so hard!" In his peripheral vision, Arthur sees Alfred's lopsided grin. "I guess you'll say I wasn't thinking at all, huh?"
Arthur is keenly aware of how all his blood seems to have rushed to his face. Well, not all of it; an uncomfortable amount seems to have made its way to his cock as well. He turns his head away a little more.
"Are you really that mad?" Alfred asks, and Arthur recognizes the plaintive tone so oft heard in Alfred's childhood. "I'll get the carpet cleaned for you. Or replace it or something."
Arthur hardly hears the words; it's the tone, that damned, anxious, sincere tone that makes him turn to Alfred.
He still doesn't say anything, though, which causes Alfred to ask, "What's wrong?" Alfred grins. "That turn you on or something?"
Swallowing hard, Arthur snaps away again; the heat in his face worsens.
Alfred feels cool in contrast when he touches Arthur's face, turns Arthur towards him.
Arthur could close his eyes, but he doesn't. He lets Alfred look into them; he looks back.
Alfred's grin fades. "Oh," he says.
It's a rare thing for Alfred to use understatement, and at any other time, Arthur would laugh. At this moment, though, he can't do anything. He can't even look away.
Alfred doesn't look away, either. There's a hint of a smile at the edges of his mouth. His eyes stay fixed on Arthur's face as he reaches for Arthur and pinches his nipple again.
Arthur's breath hitches, his blush deepens even more. That hint on Alfred's lips blossoms into a full grin. Arthur knows he should push Alfred away.
When Alfred rubs his thumb over Arthur's nipple, flicking it through the shirt with the blunt edge of his nail, Arthur's eyes fall shut, his lips part for a harsh sigh but his jaw clenches, closing his teeth on it before it escapes entirely.
He feels Alfred's next touch from the depths of his balls to the tip of his cock, even though Alfred's hand has not moved from Arthur's nipple. Spikes of self-loathing interrupt the pleasurable sensations. A phantom image of Alfred's grin remains etched on the inside of Arthur's eyelids: he knows Alfred is just teasing. He doesn't mean this as torment; he probably doesn't mean it as anything at all. He can only imagine what he looks like to Alfred now. He'll tell Alfred to leave, he'll think of some excuse later; a bad reaction to the shepherd's pie, maybe.
Eyes still closed, Arthur starts to tell Alfred just that-and finds his words cut off by Alfred's tongue in his mouth.
Arthur looks at the tiny soldier in Alfred's hand. He could just let it go. He should just let it go.
But this is Alfred. Somehow, "should" rarely has entered into it when it comes to Alfred.
"Teething."
Alfred looks up. "You weren't nursing," Arthur says. "You were teething." He forces himself not to look away.
"On you?" A chuckle rumbles up from Alfred's chest to tumble from the corners of his wide grin.
To conceal the fact that he doesn't share in the hilarity and therefore can't return the smile, Arthur raises his teacup to his lips. "Mm," he confirms from behind the cup. He takes a sip, breathes in the steam. Wonderful stuff, tea. It can always be counted upon to soothe and steady the nerves. Lowering the cup to his lap, he says lightly, conversationally, "You wouldn't take to the traditional teething aids." He even manages a smile as he goes on diffidently, "So I let you gnaw on me." Then for good measure, he adds, "Now don't let me catch you saying I never did anything for you."
"I never say that." If possible, Alfred's grin widens as his amusement increases. The boy always did like stories featuring himself. "You let me chew on your nipple?"
"Indeed."
As Arthur raises the cup again, Arthur's hand sneaks under his arm and beneath his jacket to tweak Arthur's nipple.
Arthur manages not to gasp aloud, but he does lose his grip on the teacup. Tea splashes out in a darkening stain over the carpet.
"Shit!" Alfred bends down to retrieve the teacup. Arthur doesn't look at him when he straightens. "It's not broken, at least. Sorry about the carpet, though. I didn't think you'd react so hard!" In his peripheral vision, Arthur sees Alfred's lopsided grin. "I guess you'll say I wasn't thinking at all, huh?"
Arthur is keenly aware of how all his blood seems to have rushed to his face. Well, not all of it; an uncomfortable amount seems to have made its way to his cock as well. He turns his head away a little more.
"Are you really that mad?" Alfred asks, and Arthur recognizes the plaintive tone so oft heard in Alfred's childhood. "I'll get the carpet cleaned for you. Or replace it or something."
Arthur hardly hears the words; it's the tone, that damned, anxious, sincere tone that makes him turn to Alfred.
He still doesn't say anything, though, which causes Alfred to ask, "What's wrong?" Alfred grins. "That turn you on or something?"
Swallowing hard, Arthur snaps away again; the heat in his face worsens.
Alfred feels cool in contrast when he touches Arthur's face, turns Arthur towards him.
Arthur could close his eyes, but he doesn't. He lets Alfred look into them; he looks back.
Alfred's grin fades. "Oh," he says.
It's a rare thing for Alfred to use understatement, and at any other time, Arthur would laugh. At this moment, though, he can't do anything. He can't even look away.
Alfred doesn't look away, either. There's a hint of a smile at the edges of his mouth. His eyes stay fixed on Arthur's face as he reaches for Arthur and pinches his nipple again.
Arthur's breath hitches, his blush deepens even more. That hint on Alfred's lips blossoms into a full grin. Arthur knows he should push Alfred away.
When Alfred rubs his thumb over Arthur's nipple, flicking it through the shirt with the blunt edge of his nail, Arthur's eyes fall shut, his lips part for a harsh sigh but his jaw clenches, closing his teeth on it before it escapes entirely.
He feels Alfred's next touch from the depths of his balls to the tip of his cock, even though Alfred's hand has not moved from Arthur's nipple. Spikes of self-loathing interrupt the pleasurable sensations. A phantom image of Alfred's grin remains etched on the inside of Arthur's eyelids: he knows Alfred is just teasing. He doesn't mean this as torment; he probably doesn't mean it as anything at all. He can only imagine what he looks like to Alfred now. He'll tell Alfred to leave, he'll think of some excuse later; a bad reaction to the shepherd's pie, maybe.
Eyes still closed, Arthur starts to tell Alfred just that-and finds his words cut off by Alfred's tongue in his mouth.
tbc...
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