[Fanfic] The Appliance of Charm [17-21/21]
- XVII -
The following morning, much to Alfred's pleasant surprise, there was a brand new coffee machine in the break room, switch turned on and puttering away slowly as coffee dripped, drop by glorious drop, into the pot below. Next to it sat another, more complicated looking machine that likely accomplished something a bit more fancy than the regular machine that Alfred was used to, but the America wasn't exactly sure what. Either way, it was magnificent. Alfred spent a good five minutes straight staring as his mouth slowly split into a grin that nearly broke his face, and when he heard shuffling behind him, he very deliberately turned his head so that the full force of his manic glee was directed at his boss.
Arthur blanched, fumbled with the book he held and acted as if there was absolutely no trace of a blush gracing his cheeks at the moment.
“It was on sale,” Arthur mumbled, attempting nonchalance. “And the man at the store was so goddamn persistent,” he continued in a growl, gaze narrowed, “that I couldn't very well say no, considering the deal.”
Alfred turned then, let his entire body face Arthur as the grin refused to leave his face. His stomach had erupted in a pleasant explosion of butterflies, giddy and happy and hyper, and his hands itched to grab at the man responsible for his euphoria. Grab him and smother him with his elation and hugging would definitely be involved and, since he was friends with Francis, possibly a bit of groping. Especially after the (new) Elevator Incident.
“And through extensive questioning, I managed to learn that the first, third and fifth floors have coffee machines, which would only imply that the seventh have one as well and so the purchase wasn't even really based on monetary reasons at all, but the need for simple symmetry in the building, the need for order that every workplace must have to function effectively.”
To be completely honest, Alfred wanted to fling himself at the man and just kiss him breathless, but he was so busy being completely absorbed in Arthur's endearing attempt at denial that he kind of just stood there, fidgeting.
“And regardless of the timing this purchase may have with any other completely irrelevant happenings during the past month or so, I can assure you that it is mere coincidence and nothing else. I was not swayed by anything you may have said or done or- or anything that anybody else said or did! And I most certainly did not buy it for anyone's sake but the company's, and mine - but not because I want to drink coffee or anything.”
Alfred took a step closer, wondering if Arthur always rambled like this when he was nervous. It was sort of cute to watch - and amusing, too. The smile would honestly not leave his face and he was getting closer and closer to just saying fuck it and jumping the man. It had worked for him yesterday and he had a brand new coffee machine to show for it.
“And at any rate, it's not like I bought it for you or anything ridiculous like that!” Arthur finally managed, cheeks completely red by now. “So don't get the wrong idea and start having wild thoughts about frappuccinos or mocha lattes or cafe au laits!”
There was a moment where the only sound was that of Arthur's agitated breathing, long and drawn out and very nearly more awkward than the elevator - which was saying something, because yeah, Alfred still had bruises in awkward places and his mind had a habit of rerunning that little incident at completely inappropriate times and-
“You are the best boss ever,” Alfred said into the silence, grin still in full force.
“Did you hear a single thing I said?” Arthur asked viciously, eyes narrowed.
“No,” Alfred answered, because he really hadn't. “Let me get you a cup of coffee to celebrate!”
He turned and took down two cups from the cupboard, pouring coffee into them both and leaving room to add in both the sugar and the cream that had also been put out next to the new machine. He heard Arthur mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, “Celebrate what, your lack of attention span?” but decided to ignore the comment in favor of enjoying the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
He handed Arthur one of the cups and kept his giddy excitement hidden the best he could when the man just scowled and took it. Alfred brought his cup up to his mouth, blew twice across the top of the steaming liquid and then took the first sip, eyes closing as the rich taste of it hit his tongue. When he opened his eyes, it was to find Arthur fidgeting again, looking anywhere but at Alfred's face.
“How...” he started, green eyes glancing toward Alfred's face for half a second before flitting away again. “How does it taste?”
And Alfred just lifted his cup in a sort of salute and said, “Tastes like victory, sir.”
Arthur stood there for half a beat before he scowled, slammed his untouched coffee cup onto the countertop and stomped off, British cussing fading slowly as he went. Alfred took another sip of coffee and sighed happily.
Totally worth it.
- XVIII -
Let it not be said that Alfred's decision to be cheeky implied that he wasn't properly appreciative of both the coffee machine and the implications of Arthur's stammering inquiry.
He was. And he had every intention of showing Arthur just how much. It would just have to wait until the following day, is all.
So the next day, Alfred was in the break room fiddling with the complicated coffee machine when he heard Arthur come in. As it turned out, the second machine Arthur had bought was actually an espresso machine with a helpful little part that prepared milk specific to lattes or other coffee drinks, and Alfred was just as excited to try this one out as he had been for the other one. By the time he'd gotten a cup prepared and was considering how best to top it off, Arthur had stashed his briefcase and other work things in his office, and Alfred could hear him rummaging around near his bookcase through the thin walls of the break room.
Whipped cream seemed like a good idea, so Alfred opened the cupboard and took out one of the cans that had been stashed there, holding the cup steady as he began to layer the top of the coffee with healthy amount of whipped cream. He was just about at the peak of his masterpiece when Arthur walked in abruptly, startling him just enough to tip his tower of whipped cream right onto his hand. He brought it up and turned, eyes landing on his boss as he stuck the whipped creamed digits into his mouth and licked them clean. Arthur's eyes widened a bit, gaze locked onto Alfred's mouth.
Alfred was about to grin around his fingers, because Arthur was cute when he stared, when the taste of the cream actually registered in his mind. His own eyes widened and he slowly slid his fingers free from his mouth as he smiled.
“Dude,” he said in awe, grabbing the can with his clean hand and holding it up for inspection. “This stuff tastes like caramel!”
“Re-really?” Arthur asked, only stumbling slightly.
“Yeah!” Alfred said with excitement, tipping the can and putting a healthy dollop onto his finger. “Here, try,” he said, holding his finger out to Arthur.
His boss looked at the finger dubiously, mouth twitching into some sort of half hidden grimace before he said, “I don't think-”
“Oh, right,” Alfred said, realizing he'd just had those fingers in his own mouth. Despite the fact that they'd been almost completely intimate with each other a few days ago, Arthur was still coming to terms with how best to deal with it, apparently. “Sorry 'bout that.”
He stuck the finger in his mouth and sucked it clean quickly before tossing the can into that hand and grabbing Arthur's own with his clean one. He brought it up and squirted a large blob of whipped cream on Arthur's finger and, hand still wrapped around Arthur's wrist, gestured for him to try it, smiling widely. “Come on,” he said. “It's delicious.”
Arthur looked at it with that same nervous expression, this time with a healthy amount of dread mixed in.
“I didn't buy it so that I could eat it,” he muttered, then blinked and jerked his head up to look at Alfred. “Not that- I didn't- I mean I just bought it because the box told me to, not because I thought you'd like caramel flavored whipped cream or anything. It said it was necessary for this very specific drink that the - uh - man at the store said was a speciality of this particular machine and so I had to buy the caramel stuff because the regular kind wouldn't work and that was the only reason I even went to the store in the first place, because the man is a professional and obviously knows what he's talking about and I couldn't very well disregard his directives-”
Alfred rolled his eyes in amusement and brought Arthur's hand back toward him, quickly sticking the man's finger in his mouth and sucking it clean. He ran his tongue along the bottom of the finger, feeling the rough tip of the pad before letting it pop free, noticing with quite a bit of amusement that Arthur had gone abruptly silent. Alfred slowly let go of Arthur's hand and smiled, wondering why the Englishman would get so embarrassed over a little licking with everything that had happened between them. It was kind of cute.
“Yum,” Alfred said, and watched as Arthur blinked slowly. After a few elongated seconds, Arthur turned and walked out of the room, hand still held aloft.
“I'll leave it on the counter if you wanna try it out later, sir!” Alfred called out after him.
- XIX -
“Holy mother of god!” Alfred yelled, dropping the piece of the coffee machine he was holding with a loud clang into the sink.
He shook his hand as the finger that had accidentally fallen victim to the scalding hot water within started to throb with that deep and seemingly endless ache that came with burns to any part of your skin. When the stinging in his finger got to be too much, he stuck the digit in his mouth.
Alfred dimly recognized the abrupt scrape of a heavy chair and the quick footsteps of someone running toward the break room, but he only looked up when Arthur was looking wildly at him through the doorway.
“What?” he asked, breathing a little heavy. “What happened?”
Alfred gave him large puppy eyes. “Ah buh mah finguh!” he cried woefully.
Arthur blinked at him. “What?”
Alfred slid the digit from his mouth and was almost too distracted by the pain to notice the way Arthur's eyes followed the movement. Almost.
“I burnt my finger,” he repeated, letting as much agony leak into his tone as he could. To be completely honest, the wound didn't hurt that bad - the hurt was beginning to ease already, but if Arthur was going to stride in here all Knight in Shining Armor-esque, then he might as well play it up.
“How on earth did you manage that?” Arthur asked with a scowl as Alfred put the finger back in his mouth, watching his boss for any reaction.
“Ahs tyin tah keehn dah singhy,” Alfred lamented, gesturing to the machine.
“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Arthur muttered heatedly, storming over to Alfred's side. “Take your fingers out of your bloody mouth before you speak!”
Arthur grabbed a hold of Alfred's wrist and tugged the hand gently away from the man's mouth in direct contrast to his tone, guiding the limb into the sink as he reached over and turned on the cold tap. Alfred let him do as he pleased, delighted that the man was standing so close to him.
“You suck- sucking on it won't do any good,” Arthur continued grouchily, and Alfred could detect the hint of a blush staining his cheeks even though his boss kept his head down and seemingly focused on Alfred's finger. “You need cold water for a burn,” Arthur finished, holding Alfred's hand steady under the stream of cool water, palm up so that the burned skin was being hit directly
Alfred admitted to himself that it felt good, but he was also aware that the fact that Arthur's hip was pressed snuggly against his definitely had something to do with that assessment. Alfred smiled and curled his finger experimentally, noticing that the area that was burned was a bit stiff. His other fingers felt fine, however, and he curled them so that they wrapped loosely around Arthur's thumb while his pointer stayed under the water.
He watched Arthur's face as he did it and was pleased to note that his cheeks darkened visibly as a result. He was about to comment on it, or thank his boss for taking such good care of him in his time of need, when Arthur abruptly let go of his hand and slipped it free from his loose grip. He backed up and Alfred watched him as he avoided meeting his gaze.
“Well- You just- Keep it under the water until the pain fades and then put- put a plaster on it,” Arthur muttered, jerking his head in a rough nod to emphasize his instructions and then hurrying out of the room. “And be more careful next time!” he called from his office.
Alfred just stood there, blinking at where his boss used to be. “What's a plaster?” he murmured.
- XX -
“Alfred, where are those papers that Ludwig sent up to get my signature on!?”
Alfred, who had just returned from lunch with two large coffee cups in hand, let his bag slide carefully off his shoulder and strolled into Arthur's office. He brought the cup in his left hand up to his face and inhaled, enjoying the sent that enveloped his senses, still fresh and warm and untouched. Then he pointed with it at the general vicinity of Arthur's messy desk.
“I put it on your desk, sir,” he said.
Arthur turned, banging his elbow on the corner of his desk and cutting off a swear half-formed. He rifled through the files scattering his desk before throwing his hands up and finally raising his head to look at Alfred.
“And I'm telling you I can't find...them...” he trailed off, eyes glued to the coffee in Alfred's hands as he took another sniff. He just loved that smell, he couldn't help himself.
“Yep,” Alfred said. “Put 'em there this morning, right on top of those files you requested from What's-His-Face. Y'know, the Cuban guy.”
Arthur was silent, mouth slightly ajar as Alfred gave him a knowing look and licked his lips in anticipation of tasting his coffee. “Its-” Arthur tried, head jerking to the side. “It's not here,” he said stiffly.
“Betcha it is,” Alfred sang.
Arthur looked up with a furious glare on his face and Alfred just gave him a smile.
“I haven't seen it today, so that means I didn't get it, Alfred.”
“I bet you a cup of coffee it's on your desk right where I say it is,” Alfred challenged, holding up the second coffee he held, the one he hadn't been smelling since he'd gotten into Arthur's office.
Arthur's eyebrow, the left one, twitched. Alfred took that as a yes to his challenge and slid around to the other side of the desk. He could definitely find it from the side he had been on, but that would be less invasive of Arthur's personal space, and the man got all twitchy when Alfred got into his personal space. Sure enough, Arthur's chair scooted to the side as Alfred approached.
The American set down the coffee that was intended for Arthur, whether or not he won the bet, and pointed to the mess in front of them. “Today's paperwork goes: mail, letter from that crazy guy who wants you to recognize him as a professional author by signing that certificate he made, your monthly issue of Modern Drunkard, a pile of sticky notes cut into the shapes of donkeys I found stuck to the inside of the elevator, editing notes on that Spanish book, the papers from Ludwig, a copy of 100 reasons you should drink coffe - courtesy of yours truly, and the three books you asked for to check the work on that essay you keep telling everyone is complete and utter bullocks.”
Alfred put his hand on his hip and nodded as a sort of punctuation to his list and patted himself on the back. He'd even done that last bit in a British accent. Then he leaned over and sifted through the pile of papers on Arthur's desk, both from his previous list and a smattering of other things Arthur had obviously thrown there himself, and tugged out the sought after pile of papers with a triumphant, “Ah-hah!”
He handed them over, or at least tried to; Arthur didn't take them. Arthur wasn't even looking at them. His cheeks were red and he looked a little upset and a bit like he was about to explode and Alfred cocked his head to the side, wondering what he'd done this time.
He brought his coffee back up to his nose and inhaled as he waited, wiggling the papers in his hand.
“Stop that,” Arthur said lowly.
“What?” Alfred asked.
Arthur shook his head to the side jerkily and snatched the papers out of Alfred's hand, slamming them onto the desk and pointing an angry finger into the American's face. “We have a coffee machine,” he accused.
Alfred grinned. “And did I tell you how awesome you are for getting it? Cause you are,” he said, holding up his free hand. “High five.”
Arthur's glare did not lighten, nor did he give Alfred the high five he'd requested. He merely pointed his finger at the drink in Alfred's hand, instead of his face.
“Then why are you drinking that?” Arthur asked, and Alfred could tell by his tone that he was really asking Don't you like the machine I got especially for you because I've got a huge crush and I don't know how to express myself properly?
“Oh,” Alfred said, glancing at the cup in his hand before gracing Arthur with an easy smile. He picked up the second cup and held it out. “That's because I need to teach you how to drink coffee before you make it in our new machine!”
Arthur's frown lessened a bit as his eyebrows raised in slight confusion. Alfred wiggled the cup slightly until Arthur took it, giving Alfred a look like he was a little bit daft.
“I know very well how to drink coffee,” Arthur said grumpily.
“And how's that?” Alfred asked.
“You bring it to your mouth and drink it,” Arthur answered scathingly, then raised the cup to show Alfred just how well he knew how to drink coffee.
“Ah, ah,” Alfred said quickly, holding up a hand to stop Arthur. When he lowered the cup with a frown, Alfred continued. “It can't just start goin' at it just like that. Coffee is like sex.”
Arthur's cheeks bloomed with heat. “Wh-what?”
“Coffee. Is like sex,” Alfred repeated pointedly. “It's all about the foreplay.”
Alfred gave his boss a knowing look and Arthur's cheeks heated even more. He looked away for a moment, hands tightening around his cup, until Alfred started speaking again.
“So you've got your coffee,” Alfred said, voice dropping to a murmur. “And it's your first cup of the day.”
“Not yours,” Arthur argued, swinging his gaze back around.
“But yours,” Alfred said with a wink, not abandoning his soft tone. “So just feel it. Close your eyes.”
“What?” Arthur asked, deadpan.
“Close your eyes,” Alfred repeated again, softly urging until Arthur did as he was told. Alfred smiled and watched Arthur from beneath heavy lids, almost but not quite closed.
“Close your eyes and just think about tasting it. Anticipate the flavor hitting your tongue, washing over your senses. Now smell it,” Alfred murmured, and watched as Arthur opened his eyes just enough to guide the cup to his nose. “Just a little bit,” Alfred corrected, and followed Arthur's motions as he inhaled the sent of the coffee steaming out of the small hole in the plastic cover.
“Now pull away,” Alfred said, moving his cup away from his nose. Arthur popped an eyebrow at him and Alfred smiled slowly, waiting for the returning scowl. “Kind of a tease, right?” he asked lowly. “Flirt a little.”
Alfred raised his cup again with a murmured, “Up-” and watched as Arthur followed, inhaling a bit longer this time, before saying, “-and down.”
Alfred exhaled out loudly, letting his pleasure show as his shoulders relaxed. “Up-” he whispered, and brought the cup up. “Longer this time,” he hummed. “Deeper. Let it wrap you in it's embrace as it takes you.”
Arthur's breaths were getting a bit shaky as they exhaled, and Alfred smiled. “Now, you see that foam on the plastic?” he asked softly.
Arthur hummed in agreement, distracted.
“Lick it slowly,” Alfred told him.
He demonstrated, running his tongue smoothly along the edge of his cup before letting it dart back into his mouth, humming in pleasure as he did so. He watched Arthur do the same, saw the heat in his cheeks at the hint of taste, not quite enough to satisfy.
“Can you feel it in your mouth?” Alfred asked lowly. “Let it slide across your tongue into your throat, let it consume you, flood your senses with taste.”
Arthur let out a breathy exhale before closing his mouth around the foam, and Alfred's eyes never left the secret enjoyment written across the Englishman's face. “Now we drink,” Alfred murmured.
They both let the plastic of their cups near their lips, and Alfred whispered, “Don't rush it. This your first cup, your first time, so do it slowly, carefully.”
Alfred watched as Arthur let his tongue peak out, running it over the bottom edge of his upper lip, then he whispered, “And drink.”
They both tilted their cups slowly, letting the hot liquid pour over their tongues tentatively before taking a longer, deeper sip. Alfred let out a low groan for added effect, wanting to push Arthur closer to the edge, and he was surprised to hear Arthur's answering moan as he brought the cup away from his mouth. The Englishman licked his lips and brought it up again, and Alfred watched with great satisfaction as his boss thoroughly enjoyed his first cup of the day, complete with sound effects and a pleasurably intimate expression across his handsome face.
Arthur's eyes opened after his third drink and he found Alfred staring at him intensely. He swallowed quickly before jerking his hand down, spilling slightly as the cup in his hand jostled too much. He coughed to cover his embarrassment, but his face reddened again and Alfred knew better. The American smiled easily and leaned in close, stopping when his lips were a breath away from his boss's.
“What are you-” Arthur tried.
“Did you enjoy that, sir?” Alfred asked.
“I- That is to say, you- Ah...” Arthur stuttered, trying to back up but finding his chair limited the amount of space he could put between himself and Alfred.
“You have to ease yourself into it slowly, tease your senses with just-there brushes of taste,” Alfred said smoothly, letting his fingertips trail over Arthur's arm teasingly. “Work yourself up into a frenzy of want and desire,” Alfred continued, leaning a fraction of a inch closer, almost touching. “And then, when your body is so taught with need that you think you can barely stand it, shaking with anticipation and longing and hunger, you wrap your lips around that blessed heat and drink.”
Alfred let that last word fall across Arthur's lips heatedly, sliding off to the side before pulling away entirely. Arthur tried to follow him for a fraction of a moment before catching himself and sitting back in his chair, flushed and embarrassed, twitchy and fidgeting with his coffee as he looked anywhere but at Alfred.
“And that,” Alfred said lightly, “is how you enjoy a cup of coffee.”
- XXI -
Alfred let Arthur stew in his thoughts for the rest of the day, using his last break to run across town and get the last of the supplies he would need. Then, when they were nearing the of the work day and the building was beginning to sink into silence as everyone began to leave, Alfred poked his head around Arthur's office door and asked, “Sir?”
Arthur, who was trying to finish up some editing before they both called it a day, glanced up. His mouth almost tilted into a smile before his boss seemed to remember himself and it twisted into a look of forced annoyance.
“What is it?”
Alfred came further into the room. “I was wondering if you wanted a cup of coffee before calling it a day?” Alfred asked.
Arthur raised an eyebrow at him before shaking his head. “I already drank that sugary thing you got me this afternoon, Alfred, I don't think-”
“But that was just a lesson, sir,” Alfred said, and watched Arthur place his pen down deliberately. “Now that I've taught you how to drink coffee, we should enjoy one together from our new machine!”
Arthur gave him a look that was halfway annoyed and halfway defeated before he said, “Fine.”
“Great!” Alfred said, smiling widely. “I'll go start a pot.”
Alfred retreated into the break room and flipped the switch on the coffee machine, having already put it together before approaching Arthur. Then, in the time it took for the machine to actually make it, Alfred darted into the bathroom and changed into the outfit he'd brought with him for his thank you gift to Arthur. It didn't take him too long, but he folded his work clothes up neatly lest Arthur throw a fit about it, and then he peaked out the door to make sure Arthur hadn't wandered out of his office for any reason within the past five minutes.
When the coast was clear, he slipped out of the bathroom and began assembling a tray with Arthur's coffee. Then he took a deep breath, let his patented smile lift his cheeks cheerfully and headed into his boss's office.
It took a long couple seconds for Arthur to raise his head. When he did, Alfred was incredibly pleased to watch the pen fall from his slack fingers, his eyes widen as they roved up and down Alfred's body, and his mouth open just enough for his slightly rough exhale to stutter from his lips.
Alfred had donned a waiter uniform to serve Arthur his coffe, but it was slightly different from the norm in that the only part he'd kept of the traditional uniform was the apron itself. He'd toyed around with the idea of cutting the collar off and keeping the tie, but he'd shrugged it off as unimportant. He had, however, managed to find a pair of cute little bear ears on a headband and had thrown those on for the hell of it. The tray he held in his hand was laden with an actual cup of coffee, a sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk (though to be completely honest, he really hoped these items would become irrelevant fairly soon).
He started forward after a sufficient pause, making his way to Arthur's side and setting the tray down on his desk in what little free space there was. Arthur followed him with his eyes, his body frozen where it was in his chair.
“Your coffee, sir,” Alfred said, and let a smile work itself across his face when Arthur's breath hitched a bit, body turning slightly toward Alfred. “As you requested.”
“What-” Arthur started, cutting himself off abruptly. “You-” he tried again, with little success.
“Yes, sir?” Alfred asked, leaning closer just a bit and watching the steadily rising blush flow across his boss's cheeks with great amusement. “Do you need anything else?”
“Uhm,” Arthur said.
“Oh!” Alfred chimed, straightening a bit and looking at the tray. “I forgot a spoon; I'll go get one.”
He turned and headed for the door, knowing full well that Arthur's eyes were on him as he presented his backside to the man. He grabbed the spoon he'd left deliberately on the counter of the lunchroom and hurried back, smile on his face as he came back to the desk to find Arthur relatively unmoved from his frozen postion. “Got it!” he said happily, setting it beside the cup on the tray.
Arthur didn't move an inch, so Alfred took it upon himself to make the coffee for him. “Is this enough milk, sir?” he asked, pouring enough in to make it a light brown in color. “It can be a bit stiff if you don't put enough in.”
Arthur nodded rather distractedly, his gaze seemingly stuck somewhere around Alfred's hips. Alfred added the sugar, stirred it with the spoon he'd just retrieved and held the cup out for his boss. “Here you are, sir.”
Arthur took it in his hands, still silent, and made to bring it to his mouth as if on autopilot. “Careful,” Alfred said, placing his hand on Arthur's. “It's hot. Let me blow it for you.”
Alfred was very thankful Arthur's chair did not have armrests on them, because it made it much easier to slide onto the man's lap without spilling the coffee held between them. He took it from Arthur's hands, settled himself comfortably and blew a gentle breath across the hot liquid as he tried not to give into the urge to just start humping Arthur's crotch outright. He'd been anticipating this all day and was more than a little horny as a result, and if the hardness he felt through the thin fabric of his apron was any indication, his outfit had done it's job splendidly and Arthur was beginning to get just as excited about this as Alfred was.
He blew across the coffee one more time and then offered it back to Arthur with a smile, only to find his boss was staring him right in the eye. His blush had lessened a bit and Alfred felt the distinct press of slender fingers at his hips as Arthur deliberately rested his hands there.
“Put the cup down, Alfred,” Arthur said in a low voice, slightly rough but nonetheless demanding.
Alfred did as he was told, leaning to the side and slightly forward into Arthur's lap as he strained to place the cup back on the desk without spilling, choosing to place it on the L curve of the desk; off to the side and out of the way. Just in case. When he settled onto his bosses lap once more, his arms went to the back of the chair and he slid himself comfortably close to Arthur as he waited for the man's next move.
After a long pause, Arthur said, “You are wearing an apron.”
“Yes,” Alfred answered, shifting his hips to grind slightly into Arthur's. The man's eyes closed for a brief moment and Alfred bit his lip. “I hear it's proper attire for waiters.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, even though his cheeks darkened slightly. “There's- there's nothing proper about your outfit,” he argued.
Alfred just smiled, leaned closer and slid his hips tantalizingly against his boss, feet finding purchase on the floor on either side of the chair.
“The whipped cream and the burnt finger,” Arthur said lowly, breath hitching when Alfred's grinding picked up in pace. “The- ah.... that whole thing where you literally had- hng oral sex with your fucking coffee- haaah...it was all- hng.”
“Mmhmm,” Alfred agreed, dropping his mouth to Arthur's neck and licking a line up to his ear slowly.
Arthur hummed deep in his throat and Alfred was sure that if he'd opened his mouth, it would've been a moan. Arthur's hands slid from where they rested on Alfred's hips, down to cup Alfred's bare ass and squeeze, parting his cheeks slightly as he did so. He turned his head toward Alfred and asked, “Are you sure?”
Alfred let his breath skitter out on his exhale, straight into Arthur's ear, before he answered, “Wouldn't've come in here with nothin' but an apron on otherwise.” And he thrust his hips down, rubbing himself firmly against Arthur in an attempt to clearly show the man how far gone he was.
“Well then,” Arthur said roughly, then stood abruptly and pushed Alfred onto the desk, and he was very glad indeed that he'd had the foresight to move the coffee out of the way Arthur stood, placed both hands on the desk and leaned in, lips going for Alfred's with no hesitance. Alfred let his mouth fall open under Arthur's assault, tongue dovetailing as their kiss deepened in intensity and Alfred was pushed back slightly from the force of it. Arthur's hands began to wander then, up Alfred's bare thighs and under his apron, fingers winding patterns on the insides of his thighs tortuously before wrapping around his cock and stealing the breath from his lungs. Alfred let his head drop back, away from Arthur's kiss, and enjoyed the sensation of long fingers pumping his cock, breath coming in rasps.
Alfred heard the clink of a belt and pulled himself up straight to see Arthur undoing his pants one handed, eyes focused on Alfred's even as he tried to keep a steady rhythm with the hand that was jerking him off. Alfred leaned forward, hands going to help him with the fly, and then Arthur's pants were around his ankles and he was stepping out of them as fast as he could, socks and shoes still on. Once freed, Arthur's lips found Alfred's again and his hand slowed on Alfred's cock, trailing up over his hip to trace the lines of the apron's ties.
Alfred's hands moved back to untie it, but Arthur stopped him, breaking free from their kiss to murmur, “Leave it on, luv.”
“Whatever you say, sir,” Alfred mumbled, letting his mouth quirk up into a smirk when the comment made Arthur growl before claiming his lips roughly again. The kiss ended just as abruptly and Arthur backed off, fingers trailing across Alfred's thighs as he backed away and sat heavily in his chair, legs spread as his erection lay full and hard against his lower stomach. Alfred let his eyes trail down and he licked his lower lip as his hand slipped into the front pocket of his apron. His fingers closed around the small bottle he'd placed there and he brought it out slowly, eyes still on Arthur's cock, and held it out.
Arthur hummed in appreciation and took the bottle of lube from Alfred's hand, then crooked his finger at him and beckoned. Alfred grinned and obeyed, straddling him with ease as Arthur poured lube onto his fingertips. Alfred leaned forward, lips ghosting over Arthur's cheek as he lifted his ass slightly, waiting for Arthur to take the hint. Cool fingers circled his entrance twice before a slick digit slid into him, thrusting in and out shallowly as Alfred closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to the side of Arthur's head, breathing in the scent of his hair.
The finger left him only to be replaced by two, scissoring slowly until the pain started to fade into that familiar ache that drove him crazy. A particularly hard thrust had Arthur's fingers finding his prostate and as they brushed against it, Alfred let his mouth open in a moan, hips thrusting back to meet the fingers, hand tightening where they held on to Arthur's shirt. He was ready, he was, but god he wanted Arthur to do that again and-
“Arthur- please,” Alfred murmured, lips pressed against the shell of his ear and not entirely certain exactly what he was asking for.
But Arthur hummed in response and Alfred felt the fingers slip free reluctantly, trailing across his cheek as they went to grip his hips.
“Hold on, I have to-” Arthur mumbled, pushing Alfred back a bit so he could get a hand in between them. Alfred glanced down with glazed eyes and watched Arthur pump his own cock, slicking himself up and letting a groan slip from his mouth as he did so. Alfred's hand slid down to take over, brushing Arthur's out of the way entirely, and Arthur let him do it, arching into him as Alfred coated the man's cock in lube. When he'd waited long enough, he guided Arthur to his entrance and let go, sinking down slowly as Arthur's hands came up to grip at him.
“Oh, shit,” Arthur hissed, slumping forward to bury his face in Alfred's neck, mouthing the skin there as Alfred arched back, ecstasy coursing through him as he felt Arthur's cock bury itself inside him to the hilt. Once he was seated, Arthur stilled, breathing hard into Alfred's skin until Alfred rocked his hips experimentally.
“Ah- ah,” Alfred called, head tilting back as he gripped at Arthur's shoulders. The man below him tightened his hold on Alfred's hips and lifted him up as best he could, but Alfred took the hint and moved, up and up before sinking back down slowly, loving the burn and the stretch as Arthur snapped his hips at the last moment.
Alfred started a rhythm then, bobbing up and down as he used the back of the chair and Arthur's shoulders for leverage, swiveling his hips when he felt Arthur sink in to the fullest before raising himself back up again. Arthur guided him with his hands and bit and licked at any skin he could reach with his mouth, groans and cussing muffled in Alfred's chest and neck as he met Alfred's downward thrusts with those of his own.
Alfred nearly saw stars when Arthur suddenly slid down in his seat, changing the angle and intensity of his thrusts and striking that spot deep inside Alfred with rather brutal efficiency. Alfred gasped for air on his inhales and stuttered on his exhales, limbs quivering as pleasure shot through every part of his body. It was all he could do to hold on to himself.
“Oh, god, like- uh, like that.”
Arthur grunted in response and thrust harder, faster and Alfred held on for a few sporadic moments before the coiling heat in his belly began to overflow and his vision started to go white. “I'm- ohshi- Arthur, I'm- ah!”
“Go on, luv. Alfred,” Arthur whispered, strained and low, and at the sound of his name, Alfred came, his shout halfway muffled by his inability to draw proper breath. He felt the warmth of his release smear against his and Arthur's bellies as Arthur continued to thrust into him. He slumped forward, his grip on Arthur's shoulders loosening as he felt Arthur stiffen and call Alfred's name, face buried in Alfred's shoulder as he rode out his own climax.
Alfred lay where he was, gulping in air as he tried to steady his breathing, tried to calm his heartbeat into something halfway normal, fingers still tightening every other moment on Arthur's shoulders as the afterglow hit him in waves.. Arthur's head was thrown back, neck bared to Alfred's eyes as he tried to gather himself as well, and when Alfred felt calm enough that he wouldn't just slump to the floor if he moved, he brought his lips to Arthur's neck and laid gentle kisses across the skin, letting his tongue dart out to taste the salt from Arthur's sweat.
“Hmng,” Arthur tried to articulate, dragging one of his hands from where they rested at Alfred's hips, trailing warm fingers up his side and gripping at the back of Alfred's neck. Alfred pulled back a bit and pressed his lips to Arthur's jaw as he lifted himself, groaning just a bit as he felt Arthur slip free.
“I should fire you,” Arthur murmured tiredly, eyes still closed, head still slumped against the back of his chair.
“Why?” Alfred asked, settling a bit more comfortably in Arthur's lap.
“Why the bloody hell not?” Arthur returned, though there was substantially less heat to his tone than Alfred would have expected five weeks ago. “You are the biggest pain in the arse I have ever had the misfortune of employing, you cannot follow directions, you do not heed warnings, and you talk entirely too much. Not to mention the fact that I'm fairly convinced this is a form of public indecency.”
“To be fair,” Alfred murmured, running his hand down Arthur's chest. “I'm not the only one naked, sir.”
“But it is,” Arthur argued, finally opening his eyes and tilting his head to look at Alfred, “entirely your fault.”
Alfred admitted silently that this one could probably be blamed mostly on him. He lifted himself up and towered over Arthur until the man had to strain his neck to look up at him, though he kept his face close enough that he could still feel Arthur's heavy breathing. He waited a moment before bringing his hands up to cup either side of Arthur's jaw. “Are you really gonna fire me?” Alfred asked quietly.
“Depends,” Arthur told him.
“On what?” Alfred asked, and was silently delighted when the fingers still gripping his hip tightened.
“Is this incredibly salacious and improper act of debauchery ever going to happen again?” Arthur asked seriously, tone firm.
Alfred thought about it for a moment, eyes not leaving Arthur's, before he let a slow grin spread across his face, thumbs brushing over Arthur's cheeks. He chuckled and tilted his head. “It is highly likely, sir.”
Arthur nodded once. “Then clean this mess up and get back to work,” he said, cheeks pink once more as he gave Alfred's rear a slap. “I've got a bit more editing to finish up and then we can head home.”
Alfred grinned. “Yes, sir.”
End.
--
<-- Back to parts 12-16