I don’t wanna hold off, you’re getting to me
Name: A Black Tie Affair
Author: rainy_fantasy
Characters: France/UK (human names), random oc
Rating: PG-15~
Warnings: Suggestion, profanity
Word Count: 1,634
Summary: In which Arthur must wait, of all things, and thus takes it upon himself to practice his social skills.
Author's Note: While I was out of town, the hotel that we were staying in had a swanky party going on a few floors down. It included a live jazz band and was a black tie affair kind of thing filled with "yuppies" (young, urban professionals). We could hear the band well, even in our room, and I had the urge to write, so this came about.
The sweet, soulful tune of the saxophone sang in his ears as he stood nearby, watching the small crowd of people mill about. A wash of black painted the young men and women, clothed in sleek suits and dresses described as “chic,” if he was up with the time, which he always was, of course.
He took another sip of champagne, adjusting his cuffs and straightening out his own newly tailored jacket. It had already got a few woman to give him a lingering once-over, so that was a good sign.
Arthur took another sweep of the room, golden tones of the marble floor and walls accompanying the large, clear windows, revealing a gorgeous view of the glow of the city at night, before checking his watch again.
Well he wasn’t technically late, he did say traffic was bad (or something like that) and Arthur was the one who actually arrived early, but it still didn’t keep him from being impatient. “Where are you?” he muttered, feeling his muscles tense along with his words.
“Looking for someone?” came a seductive tone to his left, but it was far too high to be the one he was looking for.
“Uh, no, I’m just-” but as Arthur turned to meet the woman’s eyes, he lost his voice. Long black locks with playful curls at their ends, piercing blue eyes (only a dim imitation of the ones he so longed to see), and cl-cle-a nice dress met his gaze. He forced his eyes back up to meet the woman with a smile and he knew she knew what he was thinking: drop dead gorgeous.
“Well then I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” she winked, reminding him of someone, and he adjusted the tied that he realized too late he wasn’t wearing, visibly uncomfortable. It’s okay, he could do this. He was the man here. It hadn’t been that long since he flirted with a woman, had it?
“Not at all,” he smiled, letting just a small glimmer of his teeth show from underneath his smile. Fuck, that was his.
“My name is Charlotte,” she smiled, reaching out a hand.
“Arthur,” and they shook hands, hers lingering a little too long. He was losing and fast.
“So Arthur,” she started, letting her tongue taste the sound of his name against the back of her teeth, “what’s a man like yourself doing alone in a place like this?” There was a tempting sparkle in the way she just barely tilted her head upward, catching his eyes. She shifted slightly, giving him a better view of her cleavage and even puffed out her lips too.
All of the feeling was being slowly sucked out of their riveting conversation with every extra effort she made. He stood just a little bit straighter and lifted his chin just a little bit higher, as if he was back in the ballroom filled with royalty and the court. “I’m simply enjoying the night life. And what about yourself? A woman of your stature couldn’t possibly be without company,” and if she knew him well, the sarcasm that he weaved into his words would have been as visible as her effort to get laid.
Instead she smiled and blushed a shade or two, visibly flattered. A bubbly giggle erupted from her cherry lipstick-covered lips and she waved her hand just slightly to wave off the compliment (and show off her nails). “Oh Sir, you flatter me far more than I deserve.” Damn right I do.
Arthur simply smiled, pulling his hands back behind him comfortably and hoping that he could find a reason to lose her company. He didn’t like playing these types of games (unlike someone), not with these type of people who cared for only the thin layer of flesh that wrapped and covered any sort of interesting factor of their being. In no way would anymore conversing between this Charlotte and himself reveal anything remotely interesting about her character, and he doubted she had any interest in his. He felt like he was back in the days when parties were made to pair people up, marry, and produce children to repeat the process. No love, no interest, no humanity.
The woman opened that pretty little mouth of hers to make an attempt to restart their conversation, when suddenly what she had intended on saying was lost to the vocal solo nearby. Her eyes widened, her face turned red reminiscent to a tomato (certainly not to his dear rose), and she looked like her eyes caught something far more rare, beautiful, gorgeous-
“Bonjour, I hope I have not kept you waiting, mon cher.” Francis.
Soft lips pressed lightly against his cheek, quickly crumbling his grand façade, as he watched the blonde man settle next to him. His shoulders relaxed and a smile tickled his lips, of which he quickly forced back down.
“So I see you’ve made a friend,” Francis smiled, glancing at the woman in front of them, visibly frozen from the sudden and eagerly welcomed attention, but only Arthur recognized the mocking tone. If it weren’t for the witnesses, he would have quickly erased any remnants of that smile from his silky smooth face.
The woman smiled, giving that mascara + eye liner + other rubbish that usually irritated his skin whenever Francis decided to give him an unwelcome makeover (but maybe the problem was that it was eye makeup that was never easy to put on when your victim thrashed about) eye twinkle. Francis rewarded her with a dazzling smile that out did hers by a marathon. Let the who-can-flirt-the-best games begin! He need another drink.
“Mon lapin, where are you going?” Francis cried, sounding desperate all of a sudden, but Arthur knew better.
“To get another drink. Would either of you like one?” What was he now, the butler? The woman shook her head, but Francis requested one with a wink. Merci beaucoup my arse.
When he came back the two were already introduced and speaking as if they were friends since infancy. Francis rejoiced his return, somewhat startled when Arthur shoved his drink into his face, and the other had lost all interest in him. Nope, the alcohol wasn’t strong enough here and he was already out. Damn.
After trying to keep up with their rapid discussion on topics he vowed to have no interest in, he finally settled with watching the band and enjoying the music. It wasn’t that bad and reminded him how much he missed his instruments back at home.
“Arthur?” It sounded insistent, as if he’d said his name at least three times, which was probably the case, but it was the delicate fingers against the small of his back that brought him to attention instantly.
“Hmm?” he spoke, turning to meet those stomach-fluttering eyes.
“Charlotte wanted to know how we first met. I figured you would be the best one to answer.”
“Ah, well...” and he paused, taking note of that sly shimmer in Francis’s eyes and smile. Francis was eagerly anticipating what he could come up this time. “I believe it involved the amusement park when I was six and you were...about nine, right? You chased me around the park, insisting that I ride some roller coaster with you because you had no one else to go with. Then you we met again in high school and you’ve been stalking me ever since.” As his blunt words settled in, he pressed his glass to his lips, only to realize grimly that was still out of that desperately desired liquid.
Disappointed at his lack of imagination, Francis frowned, but Arthur was too tired and dispirited to put in any effort. Tonight was supposed to be something fun and relaxing, a chance for them to enjoy (if such a word existed between them) each other’s company after their busy couple of weeks. Now he was left to be that finely dressed wallpaper.
Francis read his expression with skilled expertise and grabbed his hand, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze before turning back to the woman (who, if her clear expression was what he thought it was, realized too late that he was taken). “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but you’ll have to excuse us. Arthur and I haven’t seen each other for quite some time now, so we must take off. It was a pleasure meeting you though, mademoiselle,” and maybe the added gesture of a light kiss against her creamy hand was the only thing that kept her sane. In fact, she seemed pretty content as they made their way into the elevator, not that he was paying any attention to her anymore, what with that hand that now wandered dangerously down his backside.
“Good evening, mon amour,” Francis genuinely smiled, gently tucking back a few strands of Arthur’s hair behind his ear before placing a light kiss against his cheek. His thin eyebrows lifted in silent apology and Arthur quickly forgave him (there was no use fighting now that they were finally alone). “How are you doing?”
“Better now that I don’t have to deal with discussing fashion, for fuck’s sake,” but he still grinned, stepping just close enough to brush their sleeves.
“Well if you don’t care about clothes,” Francis whispered, his voice soaked in seduction as his sweet breath tickled Arthur’s blushing cheeks, “why wear them?”
As if on cue, the doors to the elevator opened and they eagerly stepped out, hands eagerly tracing the winding paths of their palms. “Now that is the best argument I’ve heard all evening.”
Within moments once they entered their room, they quickly removed any and all space between each other, only pulling back to breath and tear away whatever kept them apart.
Author: rainy_fantasy
Characters: France/UK (human names), random oc
Rating: PG-15~
Warnings: Suggestion, profanity
Word Count: 1,634
Summary: In which Arthur must wait, of all things, and thus takes it upon himself to practice his social skills.
Author's Note: While I was out of town, the hotel that we were staying in had a swanky party going on a few floors down. It included a live jazz band and was a black tie affair kind of thing filled with "yuppies" (young, urban professionals). We could hear the band well, even in our room, and I had the urge to write, so this came about.
The sweet, soulful tune of the saxophone sang in his ears as he stood nearby, watching the small crowd of people mill about. A wash of black painted the young men and women, clothed in sleek suits and dresses described as “chic,” if he was up with the time, which he always was, of course.
He took another sip of champagne, adjusting his cuffs and straightening out his own newly tailored jacket. It had already got a few woman to give him a lingering once-over, so that was a good sign.
Arthur took another sweep of the room, golden tones of the marble floor and walls accompanying the large, clear windows, revealing a gorgeous view of the glow of the city at night, before checking his watch again.
Well he wasn’t technically late, he did say traffic was bad (or something like that) and Arthur was the one who actually arrived early, but it still didn’t keep him from being impatient. “Where are you?” he muttered, feeling his muscles tense along with his words.
“Looking for someone?” came a seductive tone to his left, but it was far too high to be the one he was looking for.
“Uh, no, I’m just-” but as Arthur turned to meet the woman’s eyes, he lost his voice. Long black locks with playful curls at their ends, piercing blue eyes (only a dim imitation of the ones he so longed to see), and cl-cle-a nice dress met his gaze. He forced his eyes back up to meet the woman with a smile and he knew she knew what he was thinking: drop dead gorgeous.
“Well then I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” she winked, reminding him of someone, and he adjusted the tied that he realized too late he wasn’t wearing, visibly uncomfortable. It’s okay, he could do this. He was the man here. It hadn’t been that long since he flirted with a woman, had it?
“Not at all,” he smiled, letting just a small glimmer of his teeth show from underneath his smile. Fuck, that was his.
“My name is Charlotte,” she smiled, reaching out a hand.
“Arthur,” and they shook hands, hers lingering a little too long. He was losing and fast.
“So Arthur,” she started, letting her tongue taste the sound of his name against the back of her teeth, “what’s a man like yourself doing alone in a place like this?” There was a tempting sparkle in the way she just barely tilted her head upward, catching his eyes. She shifted slightly, giving him a better view of her cleavage and even puffed out her lips too.
All of the feeling was being slowly sucked out of their riveting conversation with every extra effort she made. He stood just a little bit straighter and lifted his chin just a little bit higher, as if he was back in the ballroom filled with royalty and the court. “I’m simply enjoying the night life. And what about yourself? A woman of your stature couldn’t possibly be without company,” and if she knew him well, the sarcasm that he weaved into his words would have been as visible as her effort to get laid.
Instead she smiled and blushed a shade or two, visibly flattered. A bubbly giggle erupted from her cherry lipstick-covered lips and she waved her hand just slightly to wave off the compliment (and show off her nails). “Oh Sir, you flatter me far more than I deserve.” Damn right I do.
Arthur simply smiled, pulling his hands back behind him comfortably and hoping that he could find a reason to lose her company. He didn’t like playing these types of games (unlike someone), not with these type of people who cared for only the thin layer of flesh that wrapped and covered any sort of interesting factor of their being. In no way would anymore conversing between this Charlotte and himself reveal anything remotely interesting about her character, and he doubted she had any interest in his. He felt like he was back in the days when parties were made to pair people up, marry, and produce children to repeat the process. No love, no interest, no humanity.
The woman opened that pretty little mouth of hers to make an attempt to restart their conversation, when suddenly what she had intended on saying was lost to the vocal solo nearby. Her eyes widened, her face turned red reminiscent to a tomato (certainly not to his dear rose), and she looked like her eyes caught something far more rare, beautiful, gorgeous-
“Bonjour, I hope I have not kept you waiting, mon cher.” Francis.
Soft lips pressed lightly against his cheek, quickly crumbling his grand façade, as he watched the blonde man settle next to him. His shoulders relaxed and a smile tickled his lips, of which he quickly forced back down.
“So I see you’ve made a friend,” Francis smiled, glancing at the woman in front of them, visibly frozen from the sudden and eagerly welcomed attention, but only Arthur recognized the mocking tone. If it weren’t for the witnesses, he would have quickly erased any remnants of that smile from his silky smooth face.
The woman smiled, giving that mascara + eye liner + other rubbish that usually irritated his skin whenever Francis decided to give him an unwelcome makeover (but maybe the problem was that it was eye makeup that was never easy to put on when your victim thrashed about) eye twinkle. Francis rewarded her with a dazzling smile that out did hers by a marathon. Let the who-can-flirt-the-best games begin! He need another drink.
“Mon lapin, where are you going?” Francis cried, sounding desperate all of a sudden, but Arthur knew better.
“To get another drink. Would either of you like one?” What was he now, the butler? The woman shook her head, but Francis requested one with a wink. Merci beaucoup my arse.
When he came back the two were already introduced and speaking as if they were friends since infancy. Francis rejoiced his return, somewhat startled when Arthur shoved his drink into his face, and the other had lost all interest in him. Nope, the alcohol wasn’t strong enough here and he was already out. Damn.
After trying to keep up with their rapid discussion on topics he vowed to have no interest in, he finally settled with watching the band and enjoying the music. It wasn’t that bad and reminded him how much he missed his instruments back at home.
“Arthur?” It sounded insistent, as if he’d said his name at least three times, which was probably the case, but it was the delicate fingers against the small of his back that brought him to attention instantly.
“Hmm?” he spoke, turning to meet those stomach-fluttering eyes.
“Charlotte wanted to know how we first met. I figured you would be the best one to answer.”
“Ah, well...” and he paused, taking note of that sly shimmer in Francis’s eyes and smile. Francis was eagerly anticipating what he could come up this time. “I believe it involved the amusement park when I was six and you were...about nine, right? You chased me around the park, insisting that I ride some roller coaster with you because you had no one else to go with. Then you we met again in high school and you’ve been stalking me ever since.” As his blunt words settled in, he pressed his glass to his lips, only to realize grimly that was still out of that desperately desired liquid.
Disappointed at his lack of imagination, Francis frowned, but Arthur was too tired and dispirited to put in any effort. Tonight was supposed to be something fun and relaxing, a chance for them to enjoy (if such a word existed between them) each other’s company after their busy couple of weeks. Now he was left to be that finely dressed wallpaper.
Francis read his expression with skilled expertise and grabbed his hand, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze before turning back to the woman (who, if her clear expression was what he thought it was, realized too late that he was taken). “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but you’ll have to excuse us. Arthur and I haven’t seen each other for quite some time now, so we must take off. It was a pleasure meeting you though, mademoiselle,” and maybe the added gesture of a light kiss against her creamy hand was the only thing that kept her sane. In fact, she seemed pretty content as they made their way into the elevator, not that he was paying any attention to her anymore, what with that hand that now wandered dangerously down his backside.
“Good evening, mon amour,” Francis genuinely smiled, gently tucking back a few strands of Arthur’s hair behind his ear before placing a light kiss against his cheek. His thin eyebrows lifted in silent apology and Arthur quickly forgave him (there was no use fighting now that they were finally alone). “How are you doing?”
“Better now that I don’t have to deal with discussing fashion, for fuck’s sake,” but he still grinned, stepping just close enough to brush their sleeves.
“Well if you don’t care about clothes,” Francis whispered, his voice soaked in seduction as his sweet breath tickled Arthur’s blushing cheeks, “why wear them?”
As if on cue, the doors to the elevator opened and they eagerly stepped out, hands eagerly tracing the winding paths of their palms. “Now that is the best argument I’ve heard all evening.”
Within moments once they entered their room, they quickly removed any and all space between each other, only pulling back to breath and tear away whatever kept them apart.