Can't Make You Love Me [2/?]
Title: Can't Make You Love Me
Genre: Drama/romance
Characters: Alfred Jones & Arthur Kirkland
Pairing(s): USUK
Rating: M
Warnings: AU, strong language, use of human names, sexual situations
Summary: Arthur's just doing his job. Then some idiot decides he wants to see him properly.
Summary of this chapter: The "date"
Notes: If you didn't notice in the last chapter, it was named after lyrics from an Amy Winehouse song ('You Know, I'm No Good'). This week's chapter took lyrics from 'Boyfriend' by Best Coast. It's pretty to the point that song, haha.
Arthur was deliberately a few minutes late. He’d considered not even going. This was a risky thing to be doing. Though that being said, he worked in an illegal business as it was. If working in a brothel wasn’t a dodgy business, he didn’t know what was.
Sure enough, there was Alfred stood by the fountain. Or who he assumed was Alfred. He was tall, slim but well-built, he was well groomed and looked relatively wealthy for his age. Arthur hadn’t bothered looking up Alfred’s company, but assuming how Alfred held himself and how he looked (all clothes with labels), he was relatively affluent. Even his glasses looked expensive. It took a few minutes, but Arthur eventually rallied the courage to approach Alfred.
The young American looked thrilled as Arthur got closer, waving energetically. Arthur didn’t return the gesture, just walking up to him with his hands in his jacket pockets. Arthur looked considerably more scruffy than Alfred (Arthur could only see a single strand of hair out of place on Alfred’s head), though it couldn’t be helped.
“You’re Arthur, yeah?”
“That’s me,” Arthur nodded and shook Alfred’s hand as it was offered to him.
“You’re mighty cute, Arthur,” Alfred said earnestly, a small smile on his face and Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the compliment. He couldn’t possibly mean it.
“Oh do be quiet,” he drawled. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Alfred looked put-off at first but then shrugged, cheery demeanour returning.
“Sure.” Alfred began to head off, “I’m starvin’ anywho.”
Arthur caught his arm, halting Alfred. As the American turned to look at him in confusion, Arthur quickly retracted his arm.
“I think you’re forgetting something, Alfred,” Arthur murmured, watching the other carefully. Alfred raised an eyebrow.
“I did? Was I supposed to bring flowers? I thought that you weren’t into-”
“No, Alfred,” Arthur shifted his weight anxiously. “The money,” he said softly.
“Oh,” Alfred scratched at the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “Right, yeah. Uh, can’t I give it to you in the hotel room?”
Arthur wanted to trust him, he really did but he didn’t know Alfred. He could be planning to do something unspeakable to him. Arthur at least wanted to get the money so that he hadn’t wasted his time when he could have worked.
“No, I’m afraid not. I just want to get this out of the way,” he couldn’t help but feel guilty as Alfred’s face fell; Alfred’s chest puffed out a little.
“How do I know you won’t run off with it?”
Arthur laughed softly, sadly, shaking his head.
“I may be many things, but I’m not a thief,” he explained, holding Alfred’s gaze without any problem. “I promise,” he added. Alfred seemed to relent after a few moments of intently staring at one another. He reached into this pocket and pulled out his wallet, forking out the $100 that they had agreed on. Arthur took the money from him, didn’t count it and put it into his own wallet. He trusted Alfred. He didn’t have much of a choice, did he?
“Let’s go,” Alfred attempted a smile, apparently very aware now that this was not a date, as he had hoped he could trick himself into believing. Arthur nodded and walked at Alfred’s side as they left the park.
“So, how old are you, Alfred?”
“Twenty-two,” he grinned. “Yourself?”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“Woah, a working adult,” Alfred laughed.
“If you can call it that,” Arthur sniffed in distain. “Can’t you say the same for yourself?”
“I guess so,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I work for my Pa.”
“What do you do?” Arthur was beginning to wonder if it was something suspicious when Alfred didn’t respond for a few moments. “Well?”
“I’m a realtor,” he shrugged, sheepish as he looked across to Arthur, like he was expecting him to wallop him.
“Is that it?” Arthur smirked. “I thought you were going to tell me you were a lawyer,” the sound of amusement was evident in his tone.
“Haha, nah,” Alfred grinned. “I wish it was that exciting. We just sell big fancy houses to middle-class families, really.”
“At least it’s a reputable job.”
“A lot ‘a people would disagree.”
“It’s more reputable than what I do,” Arthur reminded him carefully as they paused to cross the road. Alfred had kept to the deal so far, keeping his distance from Arthur. He hadn’t reached for his hand.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Alfred chortled. “So you just work… you know where?” he cleared his throat, amusing Arthur as his cheeks began to light up. They headed into the urban maze of streets.
“Well, I work there most of the time. Sometimes I do other odd jobs when I need some time to recover.”
Alfred visibly winced at that, beginning to frown. It was almost as though he’d forgotten that Arthur’s job actually included pleasuring other men.
“What kind of ‘odd jobs’?” he asked tentatively, like he didn’t really want to know.
Arthur smiled a little up at him, finding this all rather funny at the idea of Alfred being jealous.
“Mostly just fixing things for my neighbours… and I sometimes entertain people for extra cash.”
“Like this…?”
“No,” Arthur replied honestly. “A lot more shady than this. I sometimes take shifts as a ‘cocktail boy’… I’m what you might call a twink, I guess.”
“Right,” Alfred said stiffly after a few moments of tense silence. Arthur tried to think of something to change the situation. Alfred was… nice. It was rare to meet someone who wasn’t just outright rude in New York.
“Alfred?”
“Yeah?”
“You look really nice.”
Alfred was soon smiling again, looking down at his feet bashfully before meeting Arthur’s gaze.
“Thanks buddy,” his blue eyes shone as they looked into Arthur’s.
Soon enough, they were at the restaurant and Alfred proved himself to be quite the charmer. The restaurant was a small Italian place down a backstreet that Arthur wouldn’t have otherwise gone down. Alfred appeared to know the people that owned it, and they got a good seat ‘round the back, in the small terrace garden. It was lovely, really. Arthur was impressed. He wouldn’t have put this much effort in if he was paying for company (not that he would ever even do that in the first place… he couldn’t afford it).
“What did you major in?” Alfred asked between mouthfuls of his meal. Arthur quirked an eyebrow.
“What makes you think that I went to university?”
“Aw shucks,” Alfred laughed, “I just assumed ‘cause of the accent that you, y’know… so you really didn’t go? You strike me like the kinda’ guy that would. I mean, you’re pretty articulate.”
Arthur didn’t bother questioning it and just shrugged.
“If you must know, I have a degree in English.”
“Aw, cool!”
“Not cool. What sort of a job does that get you unless you want to be a journalist or a teacher?”
Alfred appeared to be surprised by that response, genuinely thinking about it.
“Well, it makes you sound smart, I guess,” he murmured before frowning a little. “How the hell did you end up where you are now then? That was only, what, four years ago?”
“It’s hardly a conversation to have over dinner, I’m afraid,” Arthur cleared his throat, dodging the question. “What about yourself? Did you study at university?”
“Nah,” Alfred sighed. “I wanted to, but my Pa wanted me to inherit the business from him because my brother Mattie is a little too young. I make a good livin’ out of it. I can’t complain.”
Arthur arched an eyebrow.
“Why can’t your brother do it? It’s unfair for you to have to adapt your life for your father.”
“It’s not that,” Alfred shrugged, beginning to play with his food, pushing a meatball around on his plate. “My Pa is gettin’ kinda’ old and my Ma left years ago so I’m the next in line, really.”
Arthur’s gaze softened and he licked his lips, debating what to say.
“I…”
“Dude, don’t worry about it,” Alfred grinned, though it looked a little forced, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m happy enough.”
“Hmm,” Arthur decided not to press on the subject, not wanting to spoil the evening. He soon put down his cutlery. “I’m full.”
“You don’t want dessert then?” Al shovelled another meatball into his mouth. Arthur eyed some of the white sauce from the meal drip from his lips and swallowed as Alfred licked it away.
“I’m fine, thank you,” he cleared his throat.
“Alrighty,” Alfred wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and signalled for the waiter close by. “Cheque, please!”
The taxi ride to the hotel was quiet. There was tension looming in the air as the reality began to set in. Alfred kept twitching and fidgeting. Arthur, however, was calm about it. This was nothing unusual to him. He’d sucked off so many men that it seemed a lot more casual than it should have been. Alfred paid for the taxi and they got out.
Arthur turned to Alfred and touched his arm gently to get his attention.
“I’m going to go ahead and wait by the lift.”
“The lift?”
“The elevator.”
“Oh.”
“Come and join me there. Tell them that your fiancée will join you soon but she’s running late. No one will ask any questions that way,” he sounded sincere enough for Alfred to not try to make a joke. He just nodded and watched Arthur head on inside of the hotel.
Alfred waited a minute or so before heading to the building. He did exactly what Arthur told him to do. But he was nervous. So nervous. Arthur was leaning against the wall beside the lift, pretending to check his phone. As Alfred approached, he got up and smiled across at him in greeting.
“All good?” he asked softly and Alfred nodded. Arthur called for the elevator and got in, followed by Alfred. He looked up at Alfred as he pressed the floor number and bit his lip. “We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to,” he said softly. “I’ll give you back the money and we can go our separate ways.”
Alfred looked horrified at the thought, although he hesitated and took a few moments to respond, shaking his head.
“No, I want to. I do.”
“Then don’t be nervous, okay?” Arthur’s voice was still quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah,” Alfred breathed, as though in relief. “I believe that,” he said honestly, returning Arthur’s gaze.
“I’ll make you feel good and teach you all that I can,” Arthur promised.
“Yeah,” Alfred replied, intelligently and shifted from foot to foot as they waited for the elevator doors to open. Arthur could see that Alfred was going to need some help. He was clearly too nervous to even attempt to get aroused, let alone an erection. He was going to need help.
It was time to think sexy thoughts. Somehow.
“Alfred?” he lowered his tone.
“Mm?”
“I want to suck your cock.”
Alfred was immediately blushing and looked quite shocked, mouth falling open.
“H-huh?”
“I want,” Arthur repeated slowly, “to suck,” he carefully placed his hand on Alfred’s lower back, “your big… juicy… cock.”
Alfred shuddered beneath Alfred’s touch, eyes closing.
“It’s big? Uhh - I mean, you do…?” the American looked startled and undeniably aroused.
“Mhm,” Arthur purred, good at pretending. “I want you so badly. You have the nicest cock I’ve had the pleasure of sucking,” he murmured, knowing that the scandalous words were working, judging from how Alfred was so tense. Of course, everything he was saying was a total lie.
Alfred almost fell out of the lift in his sudden eagerness to get to the room. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh as Alfred spluttered embarrassedly.
“Don’t worry, Alfred,” he chuckled, following him out of the lift. “Let’s just get into the room.”
Notes: Sorry about the slightly shorter chapter! The next one is coming soon and yes, there will be smut.
Genre: Drama/romance
Characters: Alfred Jones & Arthur Kirkland
Pairing(s): USUK
Rating: M
Warnings: AU, strong language, use of human names, sexual situations
Summary: Arthur's just doing his job. Then some idiot decides he wants to see him properly.
Summary of this chapter: The "date"
Notes: If you didn't notice in the last chapter, it was named after lyrics from an Amy Winehouse song ('You Know, I'm No Good'). This week's chapter took lyrics from 'Boyfriend' by Best Coast. It's pretty to the point that song, haha.
Arthur was deliberately a few minutes late. He’d considered not even going. This was a risky thing to be doing. Though that being said, he worked in an illegal business as it was. If working in a brothel wasn’t a dodgy business, he didn’t know what was.
Sure enough, there was Alfred stood by the fountain. Or who he assumed was Alfred. He was tall, slim but well-built, he was well groomed and looked relatively wealthy for his age. Arthur hadn’t bothered looking up Alfred’s company, but assuming how Alfred held himself and how he looked (all clothes with labels), he was relatively affluent. Even his glasses looked expensive. It took a few minutes, but Arthur eventually rallied the courage to approach Alfred.
The young American looked thrilled as Arthur got closer, waving energetically. Arthur didn’t return the gesture, just walking up to him with his hands in his jacket pockets. Arthur looked considerably more scruffy than Alfred (Arthur could only see a single strand of hair out of place on Alfred’s head), though it couldn’t be helped.
“You’re Arthur, yeah?”
“That’s me,” Arthur nodded and shook Alfred’s hand as it was offered to him.
“You’re mighty cute, Arthur,” Alfred said earnestly, a small smile on his face and Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the compliment. He couldn’t possibly mean it.
“Oh do be quiet,” he drawled. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Alfred looked put-off at first but then shrugged, cheery demeanour returning.
“Sure.” Alfred began to head off, “I’m starvin’ anywho.”
Arthur caught his arm, halting Alfred. As the American turned to look at him in confusion, Arthur quickly retracted his arm.
“I think you’re forgetting something, Alfred,” Arthur murmured, watching the other carefully. Alfred raised an eyebrow.
“I did? Was I supposed to bring flowers? I thought that you weren’t into-”
“No, Alfred,” Arthur shifted his weight anxiously. “The money,” he said softly.
“Oh,” Alfred scratched at the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “Right, yeah. Uh, can’t I give it to you in the hotel room?”
Arthur wanted to trust him, he really did but he didn’t know Alfred. He could be planning to do something unspeakable to him. Arthur at least wanted to get the money so that he hadn’t wasted his time when he could have worked.
“No, I’m afraid not. I just want to get this out of the way,” he couldn’t help but feel guilty as Alfred’s face fell; Alfred’s chest puffed out a little.
“How do I know you won’t run off with it?”
Arthur laughed softly, sadly, shaking his head.
“I may be many things, but I’m not a thief,” he explained, holding Alfred’s gaze without any problem. “I promise,” he added. Alfred seemed to relent after a few moments of intently staring at one another. He reached into this pocket and pulled out his wallet, forking out the $100 that they had agreed on. Arthur took the money from him, didn’t count it and put it into his own wallet. He trusted Alfred. He didn’t have much of a choice, did he?
“Let’s go,” Alfred attempted a smile, apparently very aware now that this was not a date, as he had hoped he could trick himself into believing. Arthur nodded and walked at Alfred’s side as they left the park.
“So, how old are you, Alfred?”
“Twenty-two,” he grinned. “Yourself?”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“Woah, a working adult,” Alfred laughed.
“If you can call it that,” Arthur sniffed in distain. “Can’t you say the same for yourself?”
“I guess so,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I work for my Pa.”
“What do you do?” Arthur was beginning to wonder if it was something suspicious when Alfred didn’t respond for a few moments. “Well?”
“I’m a realtor,” he shrugged, sheepish as he looked across to Arthur, like he was expecting him to wallop him.
“Is that it?” Arthur smirked. “I thought you were going to tell me you were a lawyer,” the sound of amusement was evident in his tone.
“Haha, nah,” Alfred grinned. “I wish it was that exciting. We just sell big fancy houses to middle-class families, really.”
“At least it’s a reputable job.”
“A lot ‘a people would disagree.”
“It’s more reputable than what I do,” Arthur reminded him carefully as they paused to cross the road. Alfred had kept to the deal so far, keeping his distance from Arthur. He hadn’t reached for his hand.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Alfred chortled. “So you just work… you know where?” he cleared his throat, amusing Arthur as his cheeks began to light up. They headed into the urban maze of streets.
“Well, I work there most of the time. Sometimes I do other odd jobs when I need some time to recover.”
Alfred visibly winced at that, beginning to frown. It was almost as though he’d forgotten that Arthur’s job actually included pleasuring other men.
“What kind of ‘odd jobs’?” he asked tentatively, like he didn’t really want to know.
Arthur smiled a little up at him, finding this all rather funny at the idea of Alfred being jealous.
“Mostly just fixing things for my neighbours… and I sometimes entertain people for extra cash.”
“Like this…?”
“No,” Arthur replied honestly. “A lot more shady than this. I sometimes take shifts as a ‘cocktail boy’… I’m what you might call a twink, I guess.”
“Right,” Alfred said stiffly after a few moments of tense silence. Arthur tried to think of something to change the situation. Alfred was… nice. It was rare to meet someone who wasn’t just outright rude in New York.
“Alfred?”
“Yeah?”
“You look really nice.”
Alfred was soon smiling again, looking down at his feet bashfully before meeting Arthur’s gaze.
“Thanks buddy,” his blue eyes shone as they looked into Arthur’s.
Soon enough, they were at the restaurant and Alfred proved himself to be quite the charmer. The restaurant was a small Italian place down a backstreet that Arthur wouldn’t have otherwise gone down. Alfred appeared to know the people that owned it, and they got a good seat ‘round the back, in the small terrace garden. It was lovely, really. Arthur was impressed. He wouldn’t have put this much effort in if he was paying for company (not that he would ever even do that in the first place… he couldn’t afford it).
“What did you major in?” Alfred asked between mouthfuls of his meal. Arthur quirked an eyebrow.
“What makes you think that I went to university?”
“Aw shucks,” Alfred laughed, “I just assumed ‘cause of the accent that you, y’know… so you really didn’t go? You strike me like the kinda’ guy that would. I mean, you’re pretty articulate.”
Arthur didn’t bother questioning it and just shrugged.
“If you must know, I have a degree in English.”
“Aw, cool!”
“Not cool. What sort of a job does that get you unless you want to be a journalist or a teacher?”
Alfred appeared to be surprised by that response, genuinely thinking about it.
“Well, it makes you sound smart, I guess,” he murmured before frowning a little. “How the hell did you end up where you are now then? That was only, what, four years ago?”
“It’s hardly a conversation to have over dinner, I’m afraid,” Arthur cleared his throat, dodging the question. “What about yourself? Did you study at university?”
“Nah,” Alfred sighed. “I wanted to, but my Pa wanted me to inherit the business from him because my brother Mattie is a little too young. I make a good livin’ out of it. I can’t complain.”
Arthur arched an eyebrow.
“Why can’t your brother do it? It’s unfair for you to have to adapt your life for your father.”
“It’s not that,” Alfred shrugged, beginning to play with his food, pushing a meatball around on his plate. “My Pa is gettin’ kinda’ old and my Ma left years ago so I’m the next in line, really.”
Arthur’s gaze softened and he licked his lips, debating what to say.
“I…”
“Dude, don’t worry about it,” Alfred grinned, though it looked a little forced, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m happy enough.”
“Hmm,” Arthur decided not to press on the subject, not wanting to spoil the evening. He soon put down his cutlery. “I’m full.”
“You don’t want dessert then?” Al shovelled another meatball into his mouth. Arthur eyed some of the white sauce from the meal drip from his lips and swallowed as Alfred licked it away.
“I’m fine, thank you,” he cleared his throat.
“Alrighty,” Alfred wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and signalled for the waiter close by. “Cheque, please!”
The taxi ride to the hotel was quiet. There was tension looming in the air as the reality began to set in. Alfred kept twitching and fidgeting. Arthur, however, was calm about it. This was nothing unusual to him. He’d sucked off so many men that it seemed a lot more casual than it should have been. Alfred paid for the taxi and they got out.
Arthur turned to Alfred and touched his arm gently to get his attention.
“I’m going to go ahead and wait by the lift.”
“The lift?”
“The elevator.”
“Oh.”
“Come and join me there. Tell them that your fiancée will join you soon but she’s running late. No one will ask any questions that way,” he sounded sincere enough for Alfred to not try to make a joke. He just nodded and watched Arthur head on inside of the hotel.
Alfred waited a minute or so before heading to the building. He did exactly what Arthur told him to do. But he was nervous. So nervous. Arthur was leaning against the wall beside the lift, pretending to check his phone. As Alfred approached, he got up and smiled across at him in greeting.
“All good?” he asked softly and Alfred nodded. Arthur called for the elevator and got in, followed by Alfred. He looked up at Alfred as he pressed the floor number and bit his lip. “We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to,” he said softly. “I’ll give you back the money and we can go our separate ways.”
Alfred looked horrified at the thought, although he hesitated and took a few moments to respond, shaking his head.
“No, I want to. I do.”
“Then don’t be nervous, okay?” Arthur’s voice was still quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah,” Alfred breathed, as though in relief. “I believe that,” he said honestly, returning Arthur’s gaze.
“I’ll make you feel good and teach you all that I can,” Arthur promised.
“Yeah,” Alfred replied, intelligently and shifted from foot to foot as they waited for the elevator doors to open. Arthur could see that Alfred was going to need some help. He was clearly too nervous to even attempt to get aroused, let alone an erection. He was going to need help.
It was time to think sexy thoughts. Somehow.
“Alfred?” he lowered his tone.
“Mm?”
“I want to suck your cock.”
Alfred was immediately blushing and looked quite shocked, mouth falling open.
“H-huh?”
“I want,” Arthur repeated slowly, “to suck,” he carefully placed his hand on Alfred’s lower back, “your big… juicy… cock.”
Alfred shuddered beneath Alfred’s touch, eyes closing.
“It’s big? Uhh - I mean, you do…?” the American looked startled and undeniably aroused.
“Mhm,” Arthur purred, good at pretending. “I want you so badly. You have the nicest cock I’ve had the pleasure of sucking,” he murmured, knowing that the scandalous words were working, judging from how Alfred was so tense. Of course, everything he was saying was a total lie.
Alfred almost fell out of the lift in his sudden eagerness to get to the room. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh as Alfred spluttered embarrassedly.
“Don’t worry, Alfred,” he chuckled, following him out of the lift. “Let’s just get into the room.”
Notes: Sorry about the slightly shorter chapter! The next one is coming soon and yes, there will be smut.