[Axis Powers Hetalia] Deeper (England/America)
Title: Deeper
Author/Artist: halflight007/lenarix_klinde
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England/America
Rating: M
Warnings: Porn, hypnokink, chatty!Alfred
Summary: Alfred’s thinking too hard about bottoming. Arthur fixes that by sending Alfred to Wonderland, in the most figurative sense of the word. Heavily-edited piece from the Kink Meme prompt asking for Arthur to top someone with hypnosis.
Disclaimer: Himayura-sensei lets me play with them as long as I clean ‘em off before I give them back.
Author’s Notes: Once upon a time, there were two college students. One wrote an epic tale of love, beauty, angst, pain, and triumph. The other wrote hypnosis!porn. Guess which one I am.
___
Arthur shuts his eyes and drags his tongue down Alfred’s body, enjoying the moan that trills from Alfred’s throat; their bodies hum and quiver with excitement. Arthur’s tension rises as he coats his fingers with lube, leaving a thin, shining trail down Alfred’s stomach. The line zig-zags despite Arthur’s attempts to keep his hand still.
Alfred’s letting him in, letting him take control. And though Arthur would sooner kiss Francis than admit it, he is grateful that Alfred is giving him yet another chance. He’ll make Alfred feel good this time.
“Alfred,” he whispers against the underside of Alfred’s cock, planting slow, wet kisses from root to tip. He shivers at Alfred’s moan as he takes the head into his mouth and suckles, circling a slick forefinger around Alfred’s opening for a moment before sliding one finger in.
It’s tight. Too tight. Arthur lifts his head to tell Alfred to relax, to not think so hard - but then he sees Alfred’s face. It’s drawn back and scared; those eyelids are squeezed tight over sky blues, and Arthur’s beginning to suspect that the shaking in those bones isn’t from excitement.
“Alfred,” he says, letting the cock slip from his mouth and onto Alfred’s belly. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”
“Wh-what? No! Keep going -”
Alfred’s stammer breaks the mood and scatters it away from them. So not tonight then, either.
Arthur shakes his head, pulling his pointer finger out with a sigh. He’s afraid he’ll just hurt Alfred if he tries. They’re both going soft, anyway, the mood dashed against the rocks. Arthur sighs and flops belly-down beside Alfred, shutting his eyes.
“…Arthur, I -”
Arthur lifts his arm and waves him off. “Don’t apologize,” he says, slinging his arm around Alfred’s shoulders. “It’s not important.” I’m lying just a little.
But Alfred hears what he doesn’t say. “It is,” he says, reaching over to the bedstand and putting his glasses on. “It is, though, Arthur. You bottom all the time …but when I try to return the favor, to please you like you please me….”
Something brushes his face, and Arthur feels Alfred’s shoulder move. He opens his eyes to see Alfred’s arm slung over his face, his lips white and tight as they press together.
“Alfred, talk to me,” Arthur coaxes, moving Alfred’s arm away to look him in the eye.
Alfred takes a deep breath. “I try to relax. I do. But then I just keep hearing the whole stereotype about taking it in my head, and my body just -”
“Tightens up?” Arthur ventures. Alfred bites his lip and nods. “You think too bloody hard, but it’s at least proof that something’s going on in that brain of yours.”
“Shut up,” Alfred mutters, but he yields his lips when Arthur turns his head for a kiss.
Arthur rolls onto his back, blinking at the ceiling. His eyes fix on the ceiling fan, following it around and around and letting his mind move with it, grow dizzy and -
Arthur feels inspiration tug at the back of his head and nudges Alfred’s side with his elbow. “Alfred,” he says, “do you want to try something to make you feel more comfortable?” Alfred lifts an eyebrow. “No, it’s nothing big. Just a thought.”
“What’re you thinking, old man?” Alfred asks. Arthur resists the urge to just kiss that smirk off the lad’s face.
“Well… there are some people that try to resolve their issues with hypnosis, you know.”
Alfred’s upper body curls up and laughs, the back of his hand going to his mouth. Arthur frowns, not quite sure what’s so funny; it takes a moment for Alfred’s laughter to wind down into a nervous silence. “You’re not joking,” Alfred says, part question, part statement.
“Why not? Doctors use it all the time with their patients.”
“What, the swirly-eyed thing?” Alfred snorts. “Ch’yeah, and then they wrap their victims up in their coils and swallow them whole.”
Arthur groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes, Alfred, doctors are actually malevolent pythons with hypnotic powers waiting to prey upon humans for dinner.”
He expects Alfred to snipe something back at him, but when he opens his eyes, Alfred is looking away, picking at a loose thread on Arthur’s blanket. There’s a tight look on that face, and it makes Arthur want to call the whole thing off. One more try, he tells himself, lifting Alfred’s face.
“Alfred,” he says, “hypnosis doesn’t work like that. You’re aware the entire time. Hyper-aware, even. I wouldn’t be able to force you to do anything, and you have to want to be hypnotized for it to work.”
“How do you know?” Alfred mumbles, the thread in his fingertips growing taut.
“I’ve done research, Alfred.” Arthur’s hand closes over Alfred’s before he ruins his nice comforter. “I’ve taken classes on it in my spare time. I’ve both hypnotized and been hypnotized. Trust me, it’s not like it is in the movies.”
Alfred crooks an eyebrow. “You’ve done this before?”
“Yes. I’ve done it with others.” Arthur leaves out the fact that these lessons and practices were with friends of the winged, Other-World variety. “I like learning new things.”
“I never would have guessed,” Alfred chuckles the joke sounds flat and forced. Arthur frowns, moving himself so that he’s suspended above Alfred, hands planted on either side of those broad shoulders.
“Alfred,” he says, “I’m not going to force you to do anything. If you want to top, then that’s fine - I don’t have a problem with bottoming for you. But this is stressing you out, and I don’t like that. I want to help.”
Alfred licks his lips and looks into Arthur’s eyes. “Will you - can I just have some time to think about it? Please?”
Arthur smiles and leans down, kissing Alfred, catching and holding Alfred’s tongue in his teeth, like a mother holding her kitten’s scruff. When Alfred slips from it, he whispers against those kiss-swollen lips, “If that’s what you need.”
___
Arthur spends the next day sorting through paperwork, reading and signing things. Other times, he might snap at Alfred for being so loud with his fingers on the computer; but today, he promised Alfred he’d give him time, and he’s being true to his word. Today is for Alfred to do what he needs to do, and decide what he wants. So he focuses on his work and tunes out the sounds of Alfred’s curiosity and research as best he can.
As best he can being the key words there. Alfred’s presence isn’t easily ignored, which is why Alfred doesn’t have to clear his throat or say Arthur’s name when he finally stands and makes his way over to the desk. “Yes, Alfred?”
“I…” Alfred lets the word fall from his lips, but the rest seems to get trapped, half-formed, on his tongue; Arthur watches it push at his cheeks in a blush before he begins again. “I’ll be able to resist if I want, right? You - you won’t make me do something I don’t want to, and you won’t be able to do anything to me after I get brought out of the trance.”
“That’s right. No post-hypnotic suggestions or orders against what we agreed on.”
Alfred stares at Arthur, frowning, and Arthur shifts in his chair. “What?”
“I’m trying to imagine you dangling a stopwatch in front of my face.”
And Arthur laughs a little, quiet and amused. It’s just such an Alfred thing to say that Arthur has to stand, walk to Alfred’s side, and kiss him, arms winding their way around Alfred’s neck.
“No stopwatches,” Arthur murmurs between their staccato kisses. “No swirly eyes.” He trails his lips over to Alfred’s ear. “I prefer hypnosis to be sophisticated.” He pushes his tongue into the purr of the last word, lets it flow out and tease the rim of Alfred’s ear.
Alfred swears once, just a breath, and swallows. “All - all right,” he says. “I’ll trust you, Arthur.”
Arthur mouths his “thank you” against Alfred’s ear and leans back, eyes half-lidded and smile sultry. “Would you like to do this before or after dinner?”
Alfred’s eyes squeeze shut, and he trembles a little. “As - as soon as possible,” he says. “Anytime before I lose my nerve.”
“Hmm.” Arthur looks over his shoulder at the paperwork. “Tell you what, Alfred - go upstairs and undress. I’ll be up as soon as I finish reading and signing this contract.”
Alfred nods and turns away; halfway across the room, he looks over his shoulder and grins. “Don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work, old man,” Alfred says. “Maybe I’m too smart for this mumbo-jumbo.”
“We’ll see.”
Arthur walks back to his desk as the door clicks shut behind him. Turns his back, just in case Alfred’s watching over his shoulder. Just so he won’t see the cryptic smile that wends its way onto Arthur’s face.
He wonders if he should tell Alfred that it’s the intelligent ones - the imaginative, the dreamers, the ones who propose putting heroes into space to defend against global warming - that slip into trances the easiest.
He chuckles and turns a page of the contract. No, he decides, it’ll be more fun for both of them if Alfred finds out for himself.
___
“What took you?” Alfred asks as Arthur shuts the bedroom door. Arthur turns and finds Alfred, naked and hidden under the sheets.
“Sorry,” he says, smiling an apology. “It took longer than I thought to read through the whole thing. Still…it wasn’t that long of a wait, was it?”
Alfred pouts, but shifts on the bed. “…no,” he says at last. “I guess not.”
Arthur just smiles, finishes unbuttoning his shirt, and hangs it up. He looks over at Alfred as he takes his slacks and boxers off and decides to forgo hanging them up for now, instead choosing to drape them over the back of an armchair with a neat crease and fold. “You can come out from under there if you want to,” Arthur says, making his way to the bed and oozing over Alfred’s covered body, his fingers curled in the topsheet.
“I know,” Alfred says back, his voice too smooth to be a snap, to nervous to be at ease. Still, he fidgets and climbs out so that the two of them are touching, skin on skin and cheeks against cheeks.
Arthur’s smile fades as he pulls back to look at Alfred, and he reaches out to stroke a face clinging to youth. “Alfred,” he says. “We don’t have to do this. You can back off at any time.”
Alfred takes Arthur’s wrist in his hand, turning to kiss the palm. “I want to do this,” he says. “I want to make us feel good.”
Oh, Alfred. Arthur’s heart beats a bit bigger, and he leans down to kiss Alfred. “We’re going to have to relax you first,” he says. Alfred doesn’t object - he just sighs and pushes back into the kiss. It tastes of sweet trust and softness; Arthur hopes his tastes of comfort and love.
When he smoothes his hands up Alfred’s arms and feels the tension melt off the muscles like heating fat, he knows he’s on the right track. He shifts, moving to sit by Alfred’s left side. “No, no, stay down,” Arthur says, pressing Alfred back into the pillows. “This will work better if you’re leaning back.”
“Oh. Uh. All right.” A pause, and Alfred chuckles. “Uh…hypnotize me, Cap’n?”
Arthur sighs, but can’t hide his smile behind a roll of the eyes. “Alfred...you’ve read Through the Looking Glass, haven’t you?”
“Wait…what?”
“Alfred, answer the question.”
“Well, yeah, I have, I just don’t see what it has to do with this. I thought we were here to hypnotize me, not -”
“Alfred.”
Alfred tilts his head back a little and laughs. Even through his annoyance, Arthur smiles; laughter is good. Laughter relaxes and cleanses, making this much easier. “All right! Yeah, I’ve read the book.”
Excellent. Arthur feels his lips curve into a smile. “I love Carroll’s work, you know - he’s such a brilliant writer, able to weave his words so you can actually see the scene take shape. Like the mirror. Did you feel like I did, Alfred, as though you were standing in front of that mirror?”
“Uh…not really, I mean, it’s been a long time since I read it.”
Arthur grits his teeth and almost takes back what he thought about Alfred’s intelligence. “That’s such a shame,” he murmurs, fixing his eyes on Alfred’s. “I can see it now…the gilded frame and the smooth, polished surface. You know what, Alfred, I think if you shut your eyes, you’d be able to see it better, too.”
“If you say so,” Alfred says with a shrug and a quirk of his eyebrow. Still, Arthur watches those eyelids slide shut.
“Good. Can you see the looking-glass, Alfred? Can you see the golden frame glinting in the candlelight, the ornate curls and twists wrought by expert hands? Can you see yourself in the mirror, an image more than crystal clear? Can you see the wrinkles on your bomber jacket, the way your teeth shine when you grin at your reflection?”
“Yeah,” Alfred says, and his voice sounds a little intrigued. “Yeah, I can.”
“Good.” Arthur lets the word stretch itself out from his lips, a purr as he shifts his voice lower, moving to stretch out beside Alfred. “And what does your reflection look like, Alfred? I bet he looks so relaxed, so peaceful, not a tense bone in its body. Isn’t that a nice thing to see?”
“Yeah…that’d be nice.”
“His eyes must look glazed,” Arthur suggests, keeping a slow rhythm to his words and velvet in his voice. “It’s looking at something that you can’t see, mesmerized by whatever it is - something beyond politics and economics, something far better than anything in this stressful world. He’s beautiful, your reflection. So, so beautiful in his relaxation and carefree expression….”
Alfred’s lips part, just a little, and Arthur can hear the tension flowing out of that body and relaxation seeping in through his lungs. The shoulder near Arthur’s wrist relaxes, and he sees those hands uncurl.
“Don’t you want to see what he’s seeing, Alfred?”
“…Yes….”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just walk up to the mirror and step through it? I think you can imagine that. Just getting closer and closer to the glass until finally you just slip into it, no effort or resistance.”
“Yes….” Alfred’s voice is getting quieter, distant, as he succumbs.
“And once you’re in, your reflection sucks you into him. You can’t help it; you can’t stop the flood of beautiful, indescribable colors and sights into your mind.”
“Ah….”
“You’re falling down into him,” Arthur says, forcing himself to keep his voice even and his breath steady, denying to himself how very needy he’s becoming just from this. “You’re leaving all your worries and tension behind. You’re merging with this Wonderland, becoming separate with the world, just like your reflection…becoming free and so, so relaxed.”
“Yes….”
Arthur’s voice falls to a whisper. “Let it pull you in deeper, Alfred. Let it pull you into your complete relaxation, into that beautiful, relaxing world. Look down the rabbit hole and see your fantasies. Let yourself fall into it.”
“Scared.” A breath of a word, a whisper. Arthur hesitates and thinks of a way to coax Alfred deeper without breaking the tissue-thin trance he’s woven.
“Let my touch relax you even more,” Arthur whispers, kissing his ear while he trails fingertips down one, muscular arm, thinking of the power and the strength these lax muscles hold. You’ve surrendered that strength to me, he thinks, overwhelmed by the trust Alfred is showing him as he laces their fingers together. I shall do everything I can to be worthy of that trust.
“I’ll be right here,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid, Alfred. Just fall into your fantasies; you have nothing to be afraid of while I’m here. I’ll be with you. I want you to count out loud to me as you fall, Alfred, and I want you to start feeling the numbers relax away from you. By fifteen, your mind is a blissful, beautiful blank slate, and you won’t even care about finishing.”
“Twenty. Nineteen.”
“Slower, Alfred.”
“Eighteen…seventeen….”
“Just like that…good.”
“Sixteen….”
“Just let them relax away….”
“…fifteen….”
“Let them fall from your mind.”
Alfred falls silent and breathes in deep, even inhales.
“You’ve completely relaxed your mind,” Arthur whispers. “That’s good, Alfred. Let my voice and my touch to draw you even deeper into yourself, into that lovely blackness.”
Arthur sits up again and shifts back on the mattress, wanting to make sure the induction and deepener worked before he goes further. “I want you to imagine that I’m standing in front of you on a beautiful, sunny beach, holding a balloon,” he murmurs. He latches his fingers around Alfred’s wrist. “I tie the balloon to your arm, Alfred, but what you didn’t tell me is that your bones are filled with nothing but air. They’re weightless, and as the balloon lifts, your arm goes with it, up and up.”
Arthur watches as he speaks, sees Alfred’s hand start to rise. His wrist and hand are limp, as though something’s dragging it up.
Arthur smiles, reaching and soothing his hand over Alfred’s arm. “I reach over and untie the balloon, and your mind goes blank again. Relax, Alfred.” Alfred’s arm plops back down to the bed, those pink lips parting in a deep sigh.
It works, Arthur thinks, and prevents himself from standing and doing a jig. This is for Alfred, not him.
“All right, Alfred,” Arthur continues, stretching out beside Alfred and pressing his hips into the mattress. “I want you to picture a room for me now. It’s a big, bright room with sky-blue walls and the softest bean-bag chair you’ve ever laid eyes on. Don’t go sit in the bean-bag chair yet, though - I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if something makes you uncomfortable. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Alfred says, and the peace in that voice sets the smile back on Arthur’s face with gentle feathers as Arthur reaches up to pull Alfred’s glasses off, setting them on the bedside table.
“Alfred,” he says, “you can go sit in the bean bag chair now. Sink into it, feel it welcome and curl around your body, making your mind feel even blanker and sleepier.” Alfred shivers and makes a high, needy sound; Arthur’s cock throbs against the mattress. “If you look straight ahead, you’ll see the biggest flat-screen you’ve ever laid eyes on, and if you look next to your left hand you’ll see a remote you haven’t noticed before. Are they there, Alfred?”
“Yeah.”
“When I ask you to, Alfred, I want you to turn on the television. There is only one channel - one that broadcasts your deepest sexual fantasies. I want you to act that fantasy out for me with your body. If you’re all right with that, Alfred, I want you to start right,” he kisses his ear, “now,” a hiss, a sigh as he leans back.
For a moment, their bodies sit statue-still.
Then Alfred sighs, arching his back a bit as he brings his fingertips to his lips, teasing himself with feathery brushes. “Arthur,” he murmurs. The sound of his voice is sleepy and raw as those fingertips skirt across his jaw and down his neck.
“Oh fuck,” Arthur breathes, and appreciates the beauty of Alfred’s body, feeling the rawness in that voice spread through his body.
Alfred sucks in a shuddering breath as he trails those fingers over a collarbone, down to twirl around and tease a nipple. “Arthur,” he whispers again. “Yes, Arthur~.”
Arthur feels his cock twitch from where it lies between his crossed legs. Heswallows, the feel of saliva thick and warm in his throat, and fists his hands in the comforter. Now is not the time to lose control of his wits. He has to keep an eye on Alfred.
That’s not a bad compromise, he thinks as he watches as Alfred shiver and bring his other hand into play, massaging his neglected nipple while the other starts sliding down his belly, slow, so slow. And Arthur remembers Alfred’s seeing him in his fantasies, and wonders if he’s really that gentle in bed.
“Don’t tease…” he whispers. “Please…just….”
But Alfred’s hands stop themselves, brushing the skin with air-thin touch, and Arthur’s mouth waters as he wonders just what Alfred’s fantasizing about on that telly.
The fingers inch down to rest in the curly blond hair nesting around the base of Alfred’s cock. “Touch me,” Alfred whispers, “touch me, Arthur….”
“Not yet,” Arthur murmurs. He reaches out, smoothes his hand over Alfred’s arms. “Relax.” His arms go limp as soon as the last word leaves his lips, and he takes Alfred’s hands and presses them up underneath the pillow.
“You’ve gotten so comfortable in the chair,” he purrs, “that you can’t move - don’t want to move. Your body is frozen in bliss where it is. You can’t move your arms from where they are, Alfred; I want you to try and see for yourself.”
And he watches Alfred tug, and pull at invisible restraints; his smile turns sultry and he reaches out to rub Alfred’s arm. “Do you see, Alfred? Doesn’t that feel good?”
“Yes,” Alfred whimpers, and swallows a bit. “Yes.”
Arthur moves between Alfred’s legs; his arms hold him up as he curls over to look into his lover’s face and watch dark eyelashes twitch against cheekbones.
“Look at the telly again, Alfred,” he murmurs, “and when I ask you to, I want you to tell me what you see. I want detail, and I want you to start…talking…now.”
Alfred sighs with his lungs and his breath and his whole body. “Kissed me,” he whispers, and Arthur bends his head to press his lips to Alfred’s.
It must be the relaxation that makes Alfred’s lips so soft, so warm and open. Arthur snakes his tongue in, swirls it under Alfred’s upper lips and over his teeth. He tries to pull Alfred’s mouth into participating, but Alfred only turns his head away, panting, breathing in heavy increments, and Arthur waits.
“Along my jaw…your lips….” Alfred continues, and sighs as Arthur licks and nips his way down with wetness and heat, pausing to nibble where the neck meets his jaw. “Ahn - mm. My…my neck next….” So Arthur chains a line of red nibble marks and hickeys down Alfred’s neck. Like rosebuds, he thinks, and imagines what he’d find if they opened up and spilled their inner secrets over pale skin.
“Collarbone,” Alfred whispers. “Like it when you lick it….” Arthur decides he likes licking it too, rasping the flat of his tongue and gathering musk and salt and Alfred on his tongue. He suckles the skin as an afterthought, grinning when he feels Alfred huff out a breath of a chuckle.
He waits a moment; when Alfred doesn’t speak, he lifts his head to find - oh, so that’s all that’s wrong. “Why, Alfred,” he teases, lifting his head to nuzzle one of Alfred’s warming ears, “is that a blush on your cheeks and neck?”
“Sh…shut up,” Alfred murmurs. Arthur chuckles, but his amusement fades when he lifts his head and sees Alfred’s furrowed brow, the skin of his mouth all pale where his lips press together. The muscles of his body are starting to tense again, nervous and ashamed.
“Alfred,” he whispers, letting his lips brush Alfred’s ear. “Alfred, my boy, do you trust me?”
“Yes….”
“Then can you tell me what you’re seeing on the screen?”
“…’s embarrassing,” Alfred mutters, his cheeks burning brighter. Even through his arousal and slight frustration, Arthur feels tenderness warm him, and he reaches up to cup Alfred’s cheek.
“Alfred,” he whispers, “I want you to go deeper. I want you to imagine that you are surrounded by your favorite color - and I want you to breathe that color in, breathe in the relaxation and loss of inhibition. I want you to let all your tension and shame out in a great sigh, one that makes the muscles in your body go soft, until all you have left is your arousal and your desire. Do it now, Alfred.”
Arthur feels the body beneath him lift with a great breath. It flows past Arthur’s ear in a great rush as it escapes Alfred’s body and makes it go all soft and gentle again.
“All right?” he asks, kissing Alfred’s ear and nuzzling the soft gold hair.
“…yeah….”
“Good boy,” Arthur purrs, and tongues the skin below Alfred’s ear. “Now look at the screen again, Alfred, and tell me what you’re seeing.”
“My nipple,” Alfred sighs. “Suck it…please….”
Arthur’s cock throbs at the sound of Alfred’s voice - so sleepy and slow and laced with need - and kisses his ear. “Good,” he croons. “All right, Alfred, I’ll do that for you.”
He bends his head and tongues a teasing, barely-there path down Alfred’s neck. His eyes flutter shut as his ears drink in Alfred’s mewl when lips close over a hardening nipple and suckle.
Arthur smirks as Alfred keens and struggles to move his hands, coaxing the nub in his mouth to hardness. He can’t look away from Alfred’s face, from the rose-red flush and the way his tongue flicks across his lips. He’s never seen Alfred like this, so genuine, open, and sweet.
“Mmmmotherone,” Alfred moans out. “You -” he starts, but Arthur’s already there, kissing his way across Alfred’s chest to give Alfred’s left nipple the same treatment. And his eyes never leave that face; never stop wondering what his eyes must look like beneath eyelids and dark lashes.
Alfred shifts with the pulse and cant of Arthur’s tongue, rides the thrill in his own blood without thought or shame. The sight makes Arthur even harder, and he rubs his cock against the sheets for a little relief as he waits for Alfred’s next words.
“You…kiss down my belly now…” Alfred whimpers. And his voice is so high-strung and soft that Arthur gives Alfred a little bit of mercy, dropping his head and lathing the flesh of his toned, tanned stomach with drops of kisses, brushes of warmth over the skin.
But that, oh, that even seems to be too much for Alfred. He shifts and moans, and Arthur sees those fingers tightening beneath the pillow, fighting to free himself.
He can’t, behind the bonds that Arthur’s set for them in this play. But the thought that he can do that to Alfred has Arthur trembling by the time he flicks his tongue into Alfred’s bellybutton and ducks down to nuzzle the small nesting of hair just below it. “And what now, Alfred?” he murmurs.
Alfred swallows and pants above Arthur, and he grants Alfred a brief reprieve before nipping at his skin and relishing the cry it brings out. “Alfred, I asked you a question,” he chides, gentle, as though Alfred’s still just a colony.
“My cock,” he shudders, trying to arch up even as moves out of touch. “You’re touching my -”
“Like this?”
Alfred’s voice draws out in a long, quivering moan as Arthur fists Alfred’s cock and sweeps his arm up in one long, easy stroke. Easy up, easy down. “Do you like that, poppet?” Arthur croons, enjoying the delicious ripple of muscle and sinew as Alfred writhes and arches beneath him.
“I - yessssss….”
Arthur almost says “good”, but bites it back when inspiration pops into his mind. “Do you want it to be better?”
Alfred frowns, tries to comprehend the hitch in his fantasy, the difference between his screen and their reality. Arthur takes that moment to relax his throat and takes Alfred into his mouth as much as he can in one long, drawn-out duck of his head.
“Ah - Arthur!”
Arthur sucks him slow and soft, working with tongue and throat and a bit of teeth. Watches Alfred struggle and pull at the iron-cast down pillow.
“Wanna hold you,” Alfred mutters.
Something in the desperation of that tone makes Arthur stop and look up. It’s not that bright in the room, but even he can make out the way Alfred’s throat lurches when he swallows, the shine of something beneath Alfred’s eyelashes.
Alfred’s cock slips from Arthur’s mouth, and he surges up that strong body to tuck his hands under Alfred’s pillow and lace their fingers together. “I’m there with you now,” he whispers, quick, but enough to make out. “You can move again - you can move your hands and arms now, Alfred, do whatever you want with them.”
Those strong arms crush Arthur against Alfred’s chest, and Arthur leans forward and brushes his fingers over the crease of Alfred’s eyes to wipe away the wetness glistening there. “Shh, it’s all right,” he whispers, kissing Alfred’s mouth, kissing all the way over to an ear. “Relax,” he whispers as Alfred shudders and sniffles, “relax, pluck the sadness off and flick it away. Melt into the chair, Alfred. I’m right here.”
He nuzzles Alfred’s temple, waiting for the release and slump of Alfred’s body before bending to brush their lips together. “All right, then?”
“Yeah….” Alfred says, and Arthur loves the sleepy little smile that flickers over that face.
“Do you want me to bring you out?”
“No….” Alfred’s voice is a wisp of air. “Just…felt intense. Needed a break.”
Arthur brings a thumb down to brush at Alfred’s temple, feeling Alfred melt and purr beneath his fingers as he sinks into his own mind even more.
“Alfred,” Arthur murmurs, “You’re going to turn off the telly now, and you’re looking around the room with its sky-blue walls, and you see throw pillows and whatever else makes you feel most relaxed. You feel the magic in the room, Alfred - it’s reading your very thoughts and giving you what you desire. Alfred, tell me what it’s giving you.”
“You,” Alfred whispers.
Arthur almost corrects Alfred before he realizes that Alfred’s not echoing him, but telling him what he sees. Arthur’s breath rushes out of him, warming Alfred’s chin. “All right. The room makes it so that I’m in there with you. What am I doing to you?”
“Kissing me,” Alfred murmurs. “Kissing and touching and….”
“And?” Arthur prods, trying to keep his voice steady.
“…fucking me,” Alfred finishes, his eyelids twitching.
He wants me. He really wants me to….
Arthur swallows back more than saliva as he gulps to soothe the ache that stings his throat. “I want that too,” he whispers, “but not yet. You see me move back and kneel in front of you, Alfred. I want you to look into my eyes and feel completely at ease; I want you to feel your fear evaporate from your skin like drying water. I want you to relax. Remember that I’m here to guide you, not control you. Tell me when you’re ready.”
Alfred takes several deep breaths; Arthur strokes Alfred’s hair to the rhythm.
“Ready,” Alfred breathes at last, and Arthur nuzzles his neck and bends to bite where it meets his shoulder.
“When I touch your left hand,” Arthur says, “I want you to let it fall limp on the bed, and feel another wave of bliss wash over you.” Arthur reaches up, taking Alfred’s right hand and sitting up as Alfred’s embrace slips and breaks. “I’m smiling as I take your other hand in both of mine.” And Arthur holds Alfred’s one hand with both of his, kissing the knuckles before reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing a tube off of its top.
“I take your hand,” he says, “and I coat your fingers with something.” He squeezes a dollop onto his palm, listening to Alfred gasp as he moves his hand up and down his middle and pointer fingers. “It’s slick, and starts warming underneath our touches.” Arthur smiles, squeezes on a bit more, and lathes it over those fingers. “I coat your fingers until they’re dripping with it,” Arthur whispers, “and then I lean back and smile.”
“Arthur…?” Alfred murmurs, brows furrowing.
“Alfred,” he whispers, “Finger your body open. Play with yourself. Tell me what feels good - enjoy what feels better, and don’t allow yourself to feel anything less than that.”
Arthur chuckles, watching Alfred flush as he reaches down, past his hips and cock to feather across his cleft. “It might be easier if you spread yourself with your left hand,” Arthur suggests, and then watches as Alfred takes his advice, circling with slick fingers before pushing inside, slow and shy.
Watching Alfred prepare himself is arousing in a different way from watching Alfred stroke himself off. Arthur can’t look away from either, of course, but when Alfred jerks himself, Arthur can lean on his elbows and watch Alfred up the length of his body, watch both his cock and his face.
But this - this is something Arthur can’t look away from, and doesn’t want to. There is a raw, transfixing newness to Alfred’s movements. He doesn’t want to miss a second, so he doesn’t break his gaze with Alfred’s fingers.
But he relishes and takes note of the sounds Alfred makes; every sigh, every hitch in breath, every rustle and shift of sateen sheets. He makes note of the way Alfred’s fingers move, how deep in they are inside of his body.
Arthur doesn’t really pay attention to himself as he coats his hands with lube and strokes his cock slick and wet for Alfred, ignoring the pleasant ripples that flutter through his body from his cock. He just watches and listens - and then Alfred arches his back as he slides into himself to the second knuckle. “Arthur,” he gasps, sounding so thin and stretched, so very close.
Arthur surges forward, snatching Alfred’s wrists as he leans up to kiss his mouth. “Your hands,” he pants, as he pulls Alfred out of his own body, “are tied above your head.” He puts Alfred’s wrists above his head, crossed, to emphasize the point. “And as you watch me, I reach down and put a cock ring on you.” Arthur watches that lovely cowlick bob as Alfred tilts his head back a little, groaning as Arthur’s fingers circle the base of his prick. “It’s tight, so tight that you won’t be able to come until I take it off.”
Arthur’s mouth waters as Alfred looses a long, wordless whine from his throat, listens as it intensifies when Arthur rubs the tip of his cock against that little hole.
“I want you only to think about the pleasure,” Arthur says. “When I’m inside you, fucking you, I want you to let the pleasure surge up over you and sweep you under, deeper, like an ocean wave. I just want you to feel and let your mind stay blank. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Alfred says, and oh, how Arthur loves the need in that voice. “Arthur,” Alfred says, so pretty and needy as Arthur’s cock starts to stretch him. “Arthur -”
Arthur presses their lips together, swallowing Alfred’s choked cries as he presses in and with small, smooth rocks. They open to one another in mouth and body; they swallow each other’s gasps as Arthur pushes, as Alfred spasms and accepts around him.
Arthur breaks their kiss only when his hips press up against the flesh of Alfred’s ass. He smiles through his panting and brushes sweat-soaked hair out of Alfred’s face. “How’s that feel?” he asks against smooth lips, and laughs, pulling his head out of reach in a tease, when Alfred tries to kiss his mouth.
“Fuck…fuck me….” Alfred murmurs. “Please - please, please - I can’t -”
“Soon.”
He pulls back from Alfred and smiles down into that face with its shut eyes, its flushed cheekbones, and its open, kiss-swollen mouth. Arthur reaches down and thumbs Alfred’s lower lip, chuckling and pulling away when Alfred tries to suckle Arthur’s.
“Tell me what it feels like,” Arthur whispers, and then leans back and pulls out a little - slow out, slow in, to begin with.
“Full,” Alfred slurs through parted lips. “Feels - feels wet…so smooth….”
Arthur bites back a hiss at the tightness, at the way Alfred ripples and clenches around him, against him. “Move with me, Alfred,” Arthur whispers.
It takes a few moments - moments filled with airy moans, sleepy declarations of love, and a few chuckles. But then Alfred grinds his hips down, and Arthur gets lost in the yes please now more yes, in the desire to get himself lost even deeper within that beautiful, strong body.
Arthur fucks Alfred in deep, even strokes, reaching up to jerk him off around the “cock ring.” He watches Alfred’s face shift and tense, hands rebelling against the “ties” that are holding them. Trapped in his own fantasy - freely, willingly trapped, and enjoying, and so tight -
Arthur cries out and quickens his pace. One, two, three more thrusts and something behind his eyes explodes, and he feels himself filling Alfred with wet, warm thickness, hears Alfred moan when he feels it, too.
“…thur, please,” Arthur hears when he comes back to himself. “Arthur, let me….”
Arthur reaches down and circles Alfred’s cock. “It’s off,” he whispers, jerking Alfred off. “Come for me. Now.”
Alfred arches and cries out, coming in wet, warm strands against his abs, and Arthur wants to come again just from seeing it. But he’s tired - he’s so tired, and so is Alfred. Arthur bends his head and kisses the hollow of Alfred’s throat, listens to Alfred hum as he bends to clean his stomach with swipes of his tongue.
“I’m going to count to five,” Arthur murmurs against Alfred’s bellybutton. “And every time you feel my lips against your skin, you’re going to feel energy rushing up through you, and into you. When I kiss your lips and reach ‘one’, you will open your eyes, fully awake and out of your trance.
“Five.” He presses his lips to Alfred’s bellybutton. “Four.” His chest, and the steady, strong heart that beats beneath the cage of his bones. “Three.” His throat, gentle brush of lips against the Adam’s apple. “Two.” A whisper of a word, a brush against his jaw.
“One.” He moves more than speaks the last word against Alfred’s lips, and then presses their mouths together. He feels Alfred’s eyelashes flutter and hears the sharp intake of breath. Strong arms circle up around Arthur’s shoulders, pressing their bodies together as they kiss.
“Welcome back,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes as their mouths part. “Was it any good, Alfred?”
“…I don’t know.”
Arthur feels his gut clench, and he opens his eyes to ask what went wrong.
Alfred smiles up at him, with eyes and mouth and body, with happiness and thanks.
“I think we’re going to have to try that a few more times before the fear is completely gone.”
And Arthur can’t help himself, laughing as he leans down to kiss Alfred’s mouth again, to sink himself deeper into Alfred.
___
Note: The script and deepener I used and modified for this fic came from the site Hypnorealm. The typical, most effective induction is the Dave Elman script; I chose this one because it seemed a very “Arthur” script to use, because it seemed a more subtle and gentle way of inducing a trance, and because there are more ways than one to induce hypnosis. I did modify the deepener used in the Looking Glass induction, though, to fit the Dave Elman technique of deepening trances.
It’s also worth noting that you cannot use hypnosis to control someone, plant post-hypnotic suggestions, or make them do something they do not want to do. And as Arthur said, the smarter a person is, the easier they go under, though induction times range per person and incident. That said, I took my own liberties here and made my piece a combination of real hypnosis and “mind-control fiction,” since I’m not actually all that sure about sex and hypnosis in real life.
Comments/concrit appreciated. Thanks for the read!
Author/Artist: halflight007/lenarix_klinde
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England/America
Rating: M
Warnings: Porn, hypnokink, chatty!Alfred
Summary: Alfred’s thinking too hard about bottoming. Arthur fixes that by sending Alfred to Wonderland, in the most figurative sense of the word. Heavily-edited piece from the Kink Meme prompt asking for Arthur to top someone with hypnosis.
Disclaimer: Himayura-sensei lets me play with them as long as I clean ‘em off before I give them back.
Author’s Notes: Once upon a time, there were two college students. One wrote an epic tale of love, beauty, angst, pain, and triumph. The other wrote hypnosis!porn. Guess which one I am.
___
Arthur shuts his eyes and drags his tongue down Alfred’s body, enjoying the moan that trills from Alfred’s throat; their bodies hum and quiver with excitement. Arthur’s tension rises as he coats his fingers with lube, leaving a thin, shining trail down Alfred’s stomach. The line zig-zags despite Arthur’s attempts to keep his hand still.
Alfred’s letting him in, letting him take control. And though Arthur would sooner kiss Francis than admit it, he is grateful that Alfred is giving him yet another chance. He’ll make Alfred feel good this time.
“Alfred,” he whispers against the underside of Alfred’s cock, planting slow, wet kisses from root to tip. He shivers at Alfred’s moan as he takes the head into his mouth and suckles, circling a slick forefinger around Alfred’s opening for a moment before sliding one finger in.
It’s tight. Too tight. Arthur lifts his head to tell Alfred to relax, to not think so hard - but then he sees Alfred’s face. It’s drawn back and scared; those eyelids are squeezed tight over sky blues, and Arthur’s beginning to suspect that the shaking in those bones isn’t from excitement.
“Alfred,” he says, letting the cock slip from his mouth and onto Alfred’s belly. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”
“Wh-what? No! Keep going -”
Alfred’s stammer breaks the mood and scatters it away from them. So not tonight then, either.
Arthur shakes his head, pulling his pointer finger out with a sigh. He’s afraid he’ll just hurt Alfred if he tries. They’re both going soft, anyway, the mood dashed against the rocks. Arthur sighs and flops belly-down beside Alfred, shutting his eyes.
“…Arthur, I -”
Arthur lifts his arm and waves him off. “Don’t apologize,” he says, slinging his arm around Alfred’s shoulders. “It’s not important.” I’m lying just a little.
But Alfred hears what he doesn’t say. “It is,” he says, reaching over to the bedstand and putting his glasses on. “It is, though, Arthur. You bottom all the time …but when I try to return the favor, to please you like you please me….”
Something brushes his face, and Arthur feels Alfred’s shoulder move. He opens his eyes to see Alfred’s arm slung over his face, his lips white and tight as they press together.
“Alfred, talk to me,” Arthur coaxes, moving Alfred’s arm away to look him in the eye.
Alfred takes a deep breath. “I try to relax. I do. But then I just keep hearing the whole stereotype about taking it in my head, and my body just -”
“Tightens up?” Arthur ventures. Alfred bites his lip and nods. “You think too bloody hard, but it’s at least proof that something’s going on in that brain of yours.”
“Shut up,” Alfred mutters, but he yields his lips when Arthur turns his head for a kiss.
Arthur rolls onto his back, blinking at the ceiling. His eyes fix on the ceiling fan, following it around and around and letting his mind move with it, grow dizzy and -
Arthur feels inspiration tug at the back of his head and nudges Alfred’s side with his elbow. “Alfred,” he says, “do you want to try something to make you feel more comfortable?” Alfred lifts an eyebrow. “No, it’s nothing big. Just a thought.”
“What’re you thinking, old man?” Alfred asks. Arthur resists the urge to just kiss that smirk off the lad’s face.
“Well… there are some people that try to resolve their issues with hypnosis, you know.”
Alfred’s upper body curls up and laughs, the back of his hand going to his mouth. Arthur frowns, not quite sure what’s so funny; it takes a moment for Alfred’s laughter to wind down into a nervous silence. “You’re not joking,” Alfred says, part question, part statement.
“Why not? Doctors use it all the time with their patients.”
“What, the swirly-eyed thing?” Alfred snorts. “Ch’yeah, and then they wrap their victims up in their coils and swallow them whole.”
Arthur groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes, Alfred, doctors are actually malevolent pythons with hypnotic powers waiting to prey upon humans for dinner.”
He expects Alfred to snipe something back at him, but when he opens his eyes, Alfred is looking away, picking at a loose thread on Arthur’s blanket. There’s a tight look on that face, and it makes Arthur want to call the whole thing off. One more try, he tells himself, lifting Alfred’s face.
“Alfred,” he says, “hypnosis doesn’t work like that. You’re aware the entire time. Hyper-aware, even. I wouldn’t be able to force you to do anything, and you have to want to be hypnotized for it to work.”
“How do you know?” Alfred mumbles, the thread in his fingertips growing taut.
“I’ve done research, Alfred.” Arthur’s hand closes over Alfred’s before he ruins his nice comforter. “I’ve taken classes on it in my spare time. I’ve both hypnotized and been hypnotized. Trust me, it’s not like it is in the movies.”
Alfred crooks an eyebrow. “You’ve done this before?”
“Yes. I’ve done it with others.” Arthur leaves out the fact that these lessons and practices were with friends of the winged, Other-World variety. “I like learning new things.”
“I never would have guessed,” Alfred chuckles the joke sounds flat and forced. Arthur frowns, moving himself so that he’s suspended above Alfred, hands planted on either side of those broad shoulders.
“Alfred,” he says, “I’m not going to force you to do anything. If you want to top, then that’s fine - I don’t have a problem with bottoming for you. But this is stressing you out, and I don’t like that. I want to help.”
Alfred licks his lips and looks into Arthur’s eyes. “Will you - can I just have some time to think about it? Please?”
Arthur smiles and leans down, kissing Alfred, catching and holding Alfred’s tongue in his teeth, like a mother holding her kitten’s scruff. When Alfred slips from it, he whispers against those kiss-swollen lips, “If that’s what you need.”
___
Arthur spends the next day sorting through paperwork, reading and signing things. Other times, he might snap at Alfred for being so loud with his fingers on the computer; but today, he promised Alfred he’d give him time, and he’s being true to his word. Today is for Alfred to do what he needs to do, and decide what he wants. So he focuses on his work and tunes out the sounds of Alfred’s curiosity and research as best he can.
As best he can being the key words there. Alfred’s presence isn’t easily ignored, which is why Alfred doesn’t have to clear his throat or say Arthur’s name when he finally stands and makes his way over to the desk. “Yes, Alfred?”
“I…” Alfred lets the word fall from his lips, but the rest seems to get trapped, half-formed, on his tongue; Arthur watches it push at his cheeks in a blush before he begins again. “I’ll be able to resist if I want, right? You - you won’t make me do something I don’t want to, and you won’t be able to do anything to me after I get brought out of the trance.”
“That’s right. No post-hypnotic suggestions or orders against what we agreed on.”
Alfred stares at Arthur, frowning, and Arthur shifts in his chair. “What?”
“I’m trying to imagine you dangling a stopwatch in front of my face.”
And Arthur laughs a little, quiet and amused. It’s just such an Alfred thing to say that Arthur has to stand, walk to Alfred’s side, and kiss him, arms winding their way around Alfred’s neck.
“No stopwatches,” Arthur murmurs between their staccato kisses. “No swirly eyes.” He trails his lips over to Alfred’s ear. “I prefer hypnosis to be sophisticated.” He pushes his tongue into the purr of the last word, lets it flow out and tease the rim of Alfred’s ear.
Alfred swears once, just a breath, and swallows. “All - all right,” he says. “I’ll trust you, Arthur.”
Arthur mouths his “thank you” against Alfred’s ear and leans back, eyes half-lidded and smile sultry. “Would you like to do this before or after dinner?”
Alfred’s eyes squeeze shut, and he trembles a little. “As - as soon as possible,” he says. “Anytime before I lose my nerve.”
“Hmm.” Arthur looks over his shoulder at the paperwork. “Tell you what, Alfred - go upstairs and undress. I’ll be up as soon as I finish reading and signing this contract.”
Alfred nods and turns away; halfway across the room, he looks over his shoulder and grins. “Don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work, old man,” Alfred says. “Maybe I’m too smart for this mumbo-jumbo.”
“We’ll see.”
Arthur walks back to his desk as the door clicks shut behind him. Turns his back, just in case Alfred’s watching over his shoulder. Just so he won’t see the cryptic smile that wends its way onto Arthur’s face.
He wonders if he should tell Alfred that it’s the intelligent ones - the imaginative, the dreamers, the ones who propose putting heroes into space to defend against global warming - that slip into trances the easiest.
He chuckles and turns a page of the contract. No, he decides, it’ll be more fun for both of them if Alfred finds out for himself.
___
“What took you?” Alfred asks as Arthur shuts the bedroom door. Arthur turns and finds Alfred, naked and hidden under the sheets.
“Sorry,” he says, smiling an apology. “It took longer than I thought to read through the whole thing. Still…it wasn’t that long of a wait, was it?”
Alfred pouts, but shifts on the bed. “…no,” he says at last. “I guess not.”
Arthur just smiles, finishes unbuttoning his shirt, and hangs it up. He looks over at Alfred as he takes his slacks and boxers off and decides to forgo hanging them up for now, instead choosing to drape them over the back of an armchair with a neat crease and fold. “You can come out from under there if you want to,” Arthur says, making his way to the bed and oozing over Alfred’s covered body, his fingers curled in the topsheet.
“I know,” Alfred says back, his voice too smooth to be a snap, to nervous to be at ease. Still, he fidgets and climbs out so that the two of them are touching, skin on skin and cheeks against cheeks.
Arthur’s smile fades as he pulls back to look at Alfred, and he reaches out to stroke a face clinging to youth. “Alfred,” he says. “We don’t have to do this. You can back off at any time.”
Alfred takes Arthur’s wrist in his hand, turning to kiss the palm. “I want to do this,” he says. “I want to make us feel good.”
Oh, Alfred. Arthur’s heart beats a bit bigger, and he leans down to kiss Alfred. “We’re going to have to relax you first,” he says. Alfred doesn’t object - he just sighs and pushes back into the kiss. It tastes of sweet trust and softness; Arthur hopes his tastes of comfort and love.
When he smoothes his hands up Alfred’s arms and feels the tension melt off the muscles like heating fat, he knows he’s on the right track. He shifts, moving to sit by Alfred’s left side. “No, no, stay down,” Arthur says, pressing Alfred back into the pillows. “This will work better if you’re leaning back.”
“Oh. Uh. All right.” A pause, and Alfred chuckles. “Uh…hypnotize me, Cap’n?”
Arthur sighs, but can’t hide his smile behind a roll of the eyes. “Alfred...you’ve read Through the Looking Glass, haven’t you?”
“Wait…what?”
“Alfred, answer the question.”
“Well, yeah, I have, I just don’t see what it has to do with this. I thought we were here to hypnotize me, not -”
“Alfred.”
Alfred tilts his head back a little and laughs. Even through his annoyance, Arthur smiles; laughter is good. Laughter relaxes and cleanses, making this much easier. “All right! Yeah, I’ve read the book.”
Excellent. Arthur feels his lips curve into a smile. “I love Carroll’s work, you know - he’s such a brilliant writer, able to weave his words so you can actually see the scene take shape. Like the mirror. Did you feel like I did, Alfred, as though you were standing in front of that mirror?”
“Uh…not really, I mean, it’s been a long time since I read it.”
Arthur grits his teeth and almost takes back what he thought about Alfred’s intelligence. “That’s such a shame,” he murmurs, fixing his eyes on Alfred’s. “I can see it now…the gilded frame and the smooth, polished surface. You know what, Alfred, I think if you shut your eyes, you’d be able to see it better, too.”
“If you say so,” Alfred says with a shrug and a quirk of his eyebrow. Still, Arthur watches those eyelids slide shut.
“Good. Can you see the looking-glass, Alfred? Can you see the golden frame glinting in the candlelight, the ornate curls and twists wrought by expert hands? Can you see yourself in the mirror, an image more than crystal clear? Can you see the wrinkles on your bomber jacket, the way your teeth shine when you grin at your reflection?”
“Yeah,” Alfred says, and his voice sounds a little intrigued. “Yeah, I can.”
“Good.” Arthur lets the word stretch itself out from his lips, a purr as he shifts his voice lower, moving to stretch out beside Alfred. “And what does your reflection look like, Alfred? I bet he looks so relaxed, so peaceful, not a tense bone in its body. Isn’t that a nice thing to see?”
“Yeah…that’d be nice.”
“His eyes must look glazed,” Arthur suggests, keeping a slow rhythm to his words and velvet in his voice. “It’s looking at something that you can’t see, mesmerized by whatever it is - something beyond politics and economics, something far better than anything in this stressful world. He’s beautiful, your reflection. So, so beautiful in his relaxation and carefree expression….”
Alfred’s lips part, just a little, and Arthur can hear the tension flowing out of that body and relaxation seeping in through his lungs. The shoulder near Arthur’s wrist relaxes, and he sees those hands uncurl.
“Don’t you want to see what he’s seeing, Alfred?”
“…Yes….”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just walk up to the mirror and step through it? I think you can imagine that. Just getting closer and closer to the glass until finally you just slip into it, no effort or resistance.”
“Yes….” Alfred’s voice is getting quieter, distant, as he succumbs.
“And once you’re in, your reflection sucks you into him. You can’t help it; you can’t stop the flood of beautiful, indescribable colors and sights into your mind.”
“Ah….”
“You’re falling down into him,” Arthur says, forcing himself to keep his voice even and his breath steady, denying to himself how very needy he’s becoming just from this. “You’re leaving all your worries and tension behind. You’re merging with this Wonderland, becoming separate with the world, just like your reflection…becoming free and so, so relaxed.”
“Yes….”
Arthur’s voice falls to a whisper. “Let it pull you in deeper, Alfred. Let it pull you into your complete relaxation, into that beautiful, relaxing world. Look down the rabbit hole and see your fantasies. Let yourself fall into it.”
“Scared.” A breath of a word, a whisper. Arthur hesitates and thinks of a way to coax Alfred deeper without breaking the tissue-thin trance he’s woven.
“Let my touch relax you even more,” Arthur whispers, kissing his ear while he trails fingertips down one, muscular arm, thinking of the power and the strength these lax muscles hold. You’ve surrendered that strength to me, he thinks, overwhelmed by the trust Alfred is showing him as he laces their fingers together. I shall do everything I can to be worthy of that trust.
“I’ll be right here,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid, Alfred. Just fall into your fantasies; you have nothing to be afraid of while I’m here. I’ll be with you. I want you to count out loud to me as you fall, Alfred, and I want you to start feeling the numbers relax away from you. By fifteen, your mind is a blissful, beautiful blank slate, and you won’t even care about finishing.”
“Twenty. Nineteen.”
“Slower, Alfred.”
“Eighteen…seventeen….”
“Just like that…good.”
“Sixteen….”
“Just let them relax away….”
“…fifteen….”
“Let them fall from your mind.”
Alfred falls silent and breathes in deep, even inhales.
“You’ve completely relaxed your mind,” Arthur whispers. “That’s good, Alfred. Let my voice and my touch to draw you even deeper into yourself, into that lovely blackness.”
Arthur sits up again and shifts back on the mattress, wanting to make sure the induction and deepener worked before he goes further. “I want you to imagine that I’m standing in front of you on a beautiful, sunny beach, holding a balloon,” he murmurs. He latches his fingers around Alfred’s wrist. “I tie the balloon to your arm, Alfred, but what you didn’t tell me is that your bones are filled with nothing but air. They’re weightless, and as the balloon lifts, your arm goes with it, up and up.”
Arthur watches as he speaks, sees Alfred’s hand start to rise. His wrist and hand are limp, as though something’s dragging it up.
Arthur smiles, reaching and soothing his hand over Alfred’s arm. “I reach over and untie the balloon, and your mind goes blank again. Relax, Alfred.” Alfred’s arm plops back down to the bed, those pink lips parting in a deep sigh.
It works, Arthur thinks, and prevents himself from standing and doing a jig. This is for Alfred, not him.
“All right, Alfred,” Arthur continues, stretching out beside Alfred and pressing his hips into the mattress. “I want you to picture a room for me now. It’s a big, bright room with sky-blue walls and the softest bean-bag chair you’ve ever laid eyes on. Don’t go sit in the bean-bag chair yet, though - I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if something makes you uncomfortable. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Alfred says, and the peace in that voice sets the smile back on Arthur’s face with gentle feathers as Arthur reaches up to pull Alfred’s glasses off, setting them on the bedside table.
“Alfred,” he says, “you can go sit in the bean bag chair now. Sink into it, feel it welcome and curl around your body, making your mind feel even blanker and sleepier.” Alfred shivers and makes a high, needy sound; Arthur’s cock throbs against the mattress. “If you look straight ahead, you’ll see the biggest flat-screen you’ve ever laid eyes on, and if you look next to your left hand you’ll see a remote you haven’t noticed before. Are they there, Alfred?”
“Yeah.”
“When I ask you to, Alfred, I want you to turn on the television. There is only one channel - one that broadcasts your deepest sexual fantasies. I want you to act that fantasy out for me with your body. If you’re all right with that, Alfred, I want you to start right,” he kisses his ear, “now,” a hiss, a sigh as he leans back.
For a moment, their bodies sit statue-still.
Then Alfred sighs, arching his back a bit as he brings his fingertips to his lips, teasing himself with feathery brushes. “Arthur,” he murmurs. The sound of his voice is sleepy and raw as those fingertips skirt across his jaw and down his neck.
“Oh fuck,” Arthur breathes, and appreciates the beauty of Alfred’s body, feeling the rawness in that voice spread through his body.
Alfred sucks in a shuddering breath as he trails those fingers over a collarbone, down to twirl around and tease a nipple. “Arthur,” he whispers again. “Yes, Arthur~.”
Arthur feels his cock twitch from where it lies between his crossed legs. Heswallows, the feel of saliva thick and warm in his throat, and fists his hands in the comforter. Now is not the time to lose control of his wits. He has to keep an eye on Alfred.
That’s not a bad compromise, he thinks as he watches as Alfred shiver and bring his other hand into play, massaging his neglected nipple while the other starts sliding down his belly, slow, so slow. And Arthur remembers Alfred’s seeing him in his fantasies, and wonders if he’s really that gentle in bed.
“Don’t tease…” he whispers. “Please…just….”
But Alfred’s hands stop themselves, brushing the skin with air-thin touch, and Arthur’s mouth waters as he wonders just what Alfred’s fantasizing about on that telly.
The fingers inch down to rest in the curly blond hair nesting around the base of Alfred’s cock. “Touch me,” Alfred whispers, “touch me, Arthur….”
“Not yet,” Arthur murmurs. He reaches out, smoothes his hand over Alfred’s arms. “Relax.” His arms go limp as soon as the last word leaves his lips, and he takes Alfred’s hands and presses them up underneath the pillow.
“You’ve gotten so comfortable in the chair,” he purrs, “that you can’t move - don’t want to move. Your body is frozen in bliss where it is. You can’t move your arms from where they are, Alfred; I want you to try and see for yourself.”
And he watches Alfred tug, and pull at invisible restraints; his smile turns sultry and he reaches out to rub Alfred’s arm. “Do you see, Alfred? Doesn’t that feel good?”
“Yes,” Alfred whimpers, and swallows a bit. “Yes.”
Arthur moves between Alfred’s legs; his arms hold him up as he curls over to look into his lover’s face and watch dark eyelashes twitch against cheekbones.
“Look at the telly again, Alfred,” he murmurs, “and when I ask you to, I want you to tell me what you see. I want detail, and I want you to start…talking…now.”
Alfred sighs with his lungs and his breath and his whole body. “Kissed me,” he whispers, and Arthur bends his head to press his lips to Alfred’s.
It must be the relaxation that makes Alfred’s lips so soft, so warm and open. Arthur snakes his tongue in, swirls it under Alfred’s upper lips and over his teeth. He tries to pull Alfred’s mouth into participating, but Alfred only turns his head away, panting, breathing in heavy increments, and Arthur waits.
“Along my jaw…your lips….” Alfred continues, and sighs as Arthur licks and nips his way down with wetness and heat, pausing to nibble where the neck meets his jaw. “Ahn - mm. My…my neck next….” So Arthur chains a line of red nibble marks and hickeys down Alfred’s neck. Like rosebuds, he thinks, and imagines what he’d find if they opened up and spilled their inner secrets over pale skin.
“Collarbone,” Alfred whispers. “Like it when you lick it….” Arthur decides he likes licking it too, rasping the flat of his tongue and gathering musk and salt and Alfred on his tongue. He suckles the skin as an afterthought, grinning when he feels Alfred huff out a breath of a chuckle.
He waits a moment; when Alfred doesn’t speak, he lifts his head to find - oh, so that’s all that’s wrong. “Why, Alfred,” he teases, lifting his head to nuzzle one of Alfred’s warming ears, “is that a blush on your cheeks and neck?”
“Sh…shut up,” Alfred murmurs. Arthur chuckles, but his amusement fades when he lifts his head and sees Alfred’s furrowed brow, the skin of his mouth all pale where his lips press together. The muscles of his body are starting to tense again, nervous and ashamed.
“Alfred,” he whispers, letting his lips brush Alfred’s ear. “Alfred, my boy, do you trust me?”
“Yes….”
“Then can you tell me what you’re seeing on the screen?”
“…’s embarrassing,” Alfred mutters, his cheeks burning brighter. Even through his arousal and slight frustration, Arthur feels tenderness warm him, and he reaches up to cup Alfred’s cheek.
“Alfred,” he whispers, “I want you to go deeper. I want you to imagine that you are surrounded by your favorite color - and I want you to breathe that color in, breathe in the relaxation and loss of inhibition. I want you to let all your tension and shame out in a great sigh, one that makes the muscles in your body go soft, until all you have left is your arousal and your desire. Do it now, Alfred.”
Arthur feels the body beneath him lift with a great breath. It flows past Arthur’s ear in a great rush as it escapes Alfred’s body and makes it go all soft and gentle again.
“All right?” he asks, kissing Alfred’s ear and nuzzling the soft gold hair.
“…yeah….”
“Good boy,” Arthur purrs, and tongues the skin below Alfred’s ear. “Now look at the screen again, Alfred, and tell me what you’re seeing.”
“My nipple,” Alfred sighs. “Suck it…please….”
Arthur’s cock throbs at the sound of Alfred’s voice - so sleepy and slow and laced with need - and kisses his ear. “Good,” he croons. “All right, Alfred, I’ll do that for you.”
He bends his head and tongues a teasing, barely-there path down Alfred’s neck. His eyes flutter shut as his ears drink in Alfred’s mewl when lips close over a hardening nipple and suckle.
Arthur smirks as Alfred keens and struggles to move his hands, coaxing the nub in his mouth to hardness. He can’t look away from Alfred’s face, from the rose-red flush and the way his tongue flicks across his lips. He’s never seen Alfred like this, so genuine, open, and sweet.
“Mmmmotherone,” Alfred moans out. “You -” he starts, but Arthur’s already there, kissing his way across Alfred’s chest to give Alfred’s left nipple the same treatment. And his eyes never leave that face; never stop wondering what his eyes must look like beneath eyelids and dark lashes.
Alfred shifts with the pulse and cant of Arthur’s tongue, rides the thrill in his own blood without thought or shame. The sight makes Arthur even harder, and he rubs his cock against the sheets for a little relief as he waits for Alfred’s next words.
“You…kiss down my belly now…” Alfred whimpers. And his voice is so high-strung and soft that Arthur gives Alfred a little bit of mercy, dropping his head and lathing the flesh of his toned, tanned stomach with drops of kisses, brushes of warmth over the skin.
But that, oh, that even seems to be too much for Alfred. He shifts and moans, and Arthur sees those fingers tightening beneath the pillow, fighting to free himself.
He can’t, behind the bonds that Arthur’s set for them in this play. But the thought that he can do that to Alfred has Arthur trembling by the time he flicks his tongue into Alfred’s bellybutton and ducks down to nuzzle the small nesting of hair just below it. “And what now, Alfred?” he murmurs.
Alfred swallows and pants above Arthur, and he grants Alfred a brief reprieve before nipping at his skin and relishing the cry it brings out. “Alfred, I asked you a question,” he chides, gentle, as though Alfred’s still just a colony.
“My cock,” he shudders, trying to arch up even as moves out of touch. “You’re touching my -”
“Like this?”
Alfred’s voice draws out in a long, quivering moan as Arthur fists Alfred’s cock and sweeps his arm up in one long, easy stroke. Easy up, easy down. “Do you like that, poppet?” Arthur croons, enjoying the delicious ripple of muscle and sinew as Alfred writhes and arches beneath him.
“I - yessssss….”
Arthur almost says “good”, but bites it back when inspiration pops into his mind. “Do you want it to be better?”
Alfred frowns, tries to comprehend the hitch in his fantasy, the difference between his screen and their reality. Arthur takes that moment to relax his throat and takes Alfred into his mouth as much as he can in one long, drawn-out duck of his head.
“Ah - Arthur!”
Arthur sucks him slow and soft, working with tongue and throat and a bit of teeth. Watches Alfred struggle and pull at the iron-cast down pillow.
“Wanna hold you,” Alfred mutters.
Something in the desperation of that tone makes Arthur stop and look up. It’s not that bright in the room, but even he can make out the way Alfred’s throat lurches when he swallows, the shine of something beneath Alfred’s eyelashes.
Alfred’s cock slips from Arthur’s mouth, and he surges up that strong body to tuck his hands under Alfred’s pillow and lace their fingers together. “I’m there with you now,” he whispers, quick, but enough to make out. “You can move again - you can move your hands and arms now, Alfred, do whatever you want with them.”
Those strong arms crush Arthur against Alfred’s chest, and Arthur leans forward and brushes his fingers over the crease of Alfred’s eyes to wipe away the wetness glistening there. “Shh, it’s all right,” he whispers, kissing Alfred’s mouth, kissing all the way over to an ear. “Relax,” he whispers as Alfred shudders and sniffles, “relax, pluck the sadness off and flick it away. Melt into the chair, Alfred. I’m right here.”
He nuzzles Alfred’s temple, waiting for the release and slump of Alfred’s body before bending to brush their lips together. “All right, then?”
“Yeah….” Alfred says, and Arthur loves the sleepy little smile that flickers over that face.
“Do you want me to bring you out?”
“No….” Alfred’s voice is a wisp of air. “Just…felt intense. Needed a break.”
Arthur brings a thumb down to brush at Alfred’s temple, feeling Alfred melt and purr beneath his fingers as he sinks into his own mind even more.
“Alfred,” Arthur murmurs, “You’re going to turn off the telly now, and you’re looking around the room with its sky-blue walls, and you see throw pillows and whatever else makes you feel most relaxed. You feel the magic in the room, Alfred - it’s reading your very thoughts and giving you what you desire. Alfred, tell me what it’s giving you.”
“You,” Alfred whispers.
Arthur almost corrects Alfred before he realizes that Alfred’s not echoing him, but telling him what he sees. Arthur’s breath rushes out of him, warming Alfred’s chin. “All right. The room makes it so that I’m in there with you. What am I doing to you?”
“Kissing me,” Alfred murmurs. “Kissing and touching and….”
“And?” Arthur prods, trying to keep his voice steady.
“…fucking me,” Alfred finishes, his eyelids twitching.
He wants me. He really wants me to….
Arthur swallows back more than saliva as he gulps to soothe the ache that stings his throat. “I want that too,” he whispers, “but not yet. You see me move back and kneel in front of you, Alfred. I want you to look into my eyes and feel completely at ease; I want you to feel your fear evaporate from your skin like drying water. I want you to relax. Remember that I’m here to guide you, not control you. Tell me when you’re ready.”
Alfred takes several deep breaths; Arthur strokes Alfred’s hair to the rhythm.
“Ready,” Alfred breathes at last, and Arthur nuzzles his neck and bends to bite where it meets his shoulder.
“When I touch your left hand,” Arthur says, “I want you to let it fall limp on the bed, and feel another wave of bliss wash over you.” Arthur reaches up, taking Alfred’s right hand and sitting up as Alfred’s embrace slips and breaks. “I’m smiling as I take your other hand in both of mine.” And Arthur holds Alfred’s one hand with both of his, kissing the knuckles before reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing a tube off of its top.
“I take your hand,” he says, “and I coat your fingers with something.” He squeezes a dollop onto his palm, listening to Alfred gasp as he moves his hand up and down his middle and pointer fingers. “It’s slick, and starts warming underneath our touches.” Arthur smiles, squeezes on a bit more, and lathes it over those fingers. “I coat your fingers until they’re dripping with it,” Arthur whispers, “and then I lean back and smile.”
“Arthur…?” Alfred murmurs, brows furrowing.
“Alfred,” he whispers, “Finger your body open. Play with yourself. Tell me what feels good - enjoy what feels better, and don’t allow yourself to feel anything less than that.”
Arthur chuckles, watching Alfred flush as he reaches down, past his hips and cock to feather across his cleft. “It might be easier if you spread yourself with your left hand,” Arthur suggests, and then watches as Alfred takes his advice, circling with slick fingers before pushing inside, slow and shy.
Watching Alfred prepare himself is arousing in a different way from watching Alfred stroke himself off. Arthur can’t look away from either, of course, but when Alfred jerks himself, Arthur can lean on his elbows and watch Alfred up the length of his body, watch both his cock and his face.
But this - this is something Arthur can’t look away from, and doesn’t want to. There is a raw, transfixing newness to Alfred’s movements. He doesn’t want to miss a second, so he doesn’t break his gaze with Alfred’s fingers.
But he relishes and takes note of the sounds Alfred makes; every sigh, every hitch in breath, every rustle and shift of sateen sheets. He makes note of the way Alfred’s fingers move, how deep in they are inside of his body.
Arthur doesn’t really pay attention to himself as he coats his hands with lube and strokes his cock slick and wet for Alfred, ignoring the pleasant ripples that flutter through his body from his cock. He just watches and listens - and then Alfred arches his back as he slides into himself to the second knuckle. “Arthur,” he gasps, sounding so thin and stretched, so very close.
Arthur surges forward, snatching Alfred’s wrists as he leans up to kiss his mouth. “Your hands,” he pants, as he pulls Alfred out of his own body, “are tied above your head.” He puts Alfred’s wrists above his head, crossed, to emphasize the point. “And as you watch me, I reach down and put a cock ring on you.” Arthur watches that lovely cowlick bob as Alfred tilts his head back a little, groaning as Arthur’s fingers circle the base of his prick. “It’s tight, so tight that you won’t be able to come until I take it off.”
Arthur’s mouth waters as Alfred looses a long, wordless whine from his throat, listens as it intensifies when Arthur rubs the tip of his cock against that little hole.
“I want you only to think about the pleasure,” Arthur says. “When I’m inside you, fucking you, I want you to let the pleasure surge up over you and sweep you under, deeper, like an ocean wave. I just want you to feel and let your mind stay blank. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Alfred says, and oh, how Arthur loves the need in that voice. “Arthur,” Alfred says, so pretty and needy as Arthur’s cock starts to stretch him. “Arthur -”
Arthur presses their lips together, swallowing Alfred’s choked cries as he presses in and with small, smooth rocks. They open to one another in mouth and body; they swallow each other’s gasps as Arthur pushes, as Alfred spasms and accepts around him.
Arthur breaks their kiss only when his hips press up against the flesh of Alfred’s ass. He smiles through his panting and brushes sweat-soaked hair out of Alfred’s face. “How’s that feel?” he asks against smooth lips, and laughs, pulling his head out of reach in a tease, when Alfred tries to kiss his mouth.
“Fuck…fuck me….” Alfred murmurs. “Please - please, please - I can’t -”
“Soon.”
He pulls back from Alfred and smiles down into that face with its shut eyes, its flushed cheekbones, and its open, kiss-swollen mouth. Arthur reaches down and thumbs Alfred’s lower lip, chuckling and pulling away when Alfred tries to suckle Arthur’s.
“Tell me what it feels like,” Arthur whispers, and then leans back and pulls out a little - slow out, slow in, to begin with.
“Full,” Alfred slurs through parted lips. “Feels - feels wet…so smooth….”
Arthur bites back a hiss at the tightness, at the way Alfred ripples and clenches around him, against him. “Move with me, Alfred,” Arthur whispers.
It takes a few moments - moments filled with airy moans, sleepy declarations of love, and a few chuckles. But then Alfred grinds his hips down, and Arthur gets lost in the yes please now more yes, in the desire to get himself lost even deeper within that beautiful, strong body.
Arthur fucks Alfred in deep, even strokes, reaching up to jerk him off around the “cock ring.” He watches Alfred’s face shift and tense, hands rebelling against the “ties” that are holding them. Trapped in his own fantasy - freely, willingly trapped, and enjoying, and so tight -
Arthur cries out and quickens his pace. One, two, three more thrusts and something behind his eyes explodes, and he feels himself filling Alfred with wet, warm thickness, hears Alfred moan when he feels it, too.
“…thur, please,” Arthur hears when he comes back to himself. “Arthur, let me….”
Arthur reaches down and circles Alfred’s cock. “It’s off,” he whispers, jerking Alfred off. “Come for me. Now.”
Alfred arches and cries out, coming in wet, warm strands against his abs, and Arthur wants to come again just from seeing it. But he’s tired - he’s so tired, and so is Alfred. Arthur bends his head and kisses the hollow of Alfred’s throat, listens to Alfred hum as he bends to clean his stomach with swipes of his tongue.
“I’m going to count to five,” Arthur murmurs against Alfred’s bellybutton. “And every time you feel my lips against your skin, you’re going to feel energy rushing up through you, and into you. When I kiss your lips and reach ‘one’, you will open your eyes, fully awake and out of your trance.
“Five.” He presses his lips to Alfred’s bellybutton. “Four.” His chest, and the steady, strong heart that beats beneath the cage of his bones. “Three.” His throat, gentle brush of lips against the Adam’s apple. “Two.” A whisper of a word, a brush against his jaw.
“One.” He moves more than speaks the last word against Alfred’s lips, and then presses their mouths together. He feels Alfred’s eyelashes flutter and hears the sharp intake of breath. Strong arms circle up around Arthur’s shoulders, pressing their bodies together as they kiss.
“Welcome back,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes as their mouths part. “Was it any good, Alfred?”
“…I don’t know.”
Arthur feels his gut clench, and he opens his eyes to ask what went wrong.
Alfred smiles up at him, with eyes and mouth and body, with happiness and thanks.
“I think we’re going to have to try that a few more times before the fear is completely gone.”
And Arthur can’t help himself, laughing as he leans down to kiss Alfred’s mouth again, to sink himself deeper into Alfred.
___
Note: The script and deepener I used and modified for this fic came from the site Hypnorealm. The typical, most effective induction is the Dave Elman script; I chose this one because it seemed a very “Arthur” script to use, because it seemed a more subtle and gentle way of inducing a trance, and because there are more ways than one to induce hypnosis. I did modify the deepener used in the Looking Glass induction, though, to fit the Dave Elman technique of deepening trances.
It’s also worth noting that you cannot use hypnosis to control someone, plant post-hypnotic suggestions, or make them do something they do not want to do. And as Arthur said, the smarter a person is, the easier they go under, though induction times range per person and incident. That said, I took my own liberties here and made my piece a combination of real hypnosis and “mind-control fiction,” since I’m not actually all that sure about sex and hypnosis in real life.
Comments/concrit appreciated. Thanks for the read!