Re: never ballpoints [63/?]
anonymous
August 10 2010, 20:12:28 UTC
This story continues to give me the chills. So realistic, specially the subtle deteriorating of his close relationship and losing his past appreciation for things like inquisitve students. Poor Arthur! I wonder how much Francis knows. I really want Alfred to get caught, fired and put in prison for this. Come on, white knight Francis!!
Re: never ballpoints [63/?]
anonymous
August 14 2010, 17:08:09 UTC
Oh man oh man, this fill kills me so!! (in a good way, of course!) First I was horrified, then I started gnawing at my lips, then my mind kept going back to "Too soon, Alfred thinks, too soon too fast and it's just-that, like something shattered across the floor. In all fairness: Arthur is young, and probably-inexperienced" -then I suddenly couldn't get rid of the mental image of Alfred orgasm-denying Arthur so that he can milk this as good as he can while he fucks him over the desk or something and oh shit, something is seriously wrong with me. /headdesk
I will creep back to hell where I belong, waiting anxiously for updates. I hope you're happy.
Almost a week since the update and I FINALLY got around reading it. I noticed that this update's much longer than usual, which was a real treat. :D As always, you manage to have me keyboard smashing the entire way. FRANCIS ALMOST WALKED IN ON THEM, I STILL CAN'T WRAP MY MIND AROUND IT. Gods, Alfred, having Arthur lie right through his teeth and cleaning up evidence like that. Shit. That jealousy of the bond between Francis and Arthur, too, which for some reason stood out much more than it did in past chapters. Huh, I guess it's 'cause it comes right after the dirty deeds, which Alfred gave up that friendship-intimacy for
( ... )
never ballpoints [64/?]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 15:26:31 UTC
He runs the key over his palm for ten, festering seconds, and then over his knuckles. The metal is cold. Arthur, three feet and a thousand miles away, is watching the desk grow dusty under his chin.
“Stand up,” says Alfred, and he’s starting to wonder how far he can go without his hands. “Go on, Arthur.”
There’s the awful, familiar skitter of metal on wood as Arthur jumps up. The momentum sends papers rustling.
“Take off... your tie,” he says, and a quiver starts in his stomach as Arthur loosens the knot. The sound of it hitting the floor is swallowed by silence.
“Your blazer,” offers Alfred. Then, “Your shirt.”
They drop in easy succession, Arthur’s gaze never leaving the table. Something taut in Alfred’s spine is twinging, and suggesting thoughts, and Alfred runs them over with a sieve. He can no longer think.
“Look at me,” Alfred says this time, but with no less intent. “Look.”
There’s a moment, strong and there, in which Alfred thinks Arthur won’t-in which Arthur will stare at nothing forever. But then his gaze is moving,
( ... )
never ballpoints [65/?]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 15:28:33 UTC
Of course, Alfred is as much a physical being as a social one. What cannot be conveyed by voice can be done by touch, and what can is better otherwise. It’s his mentality-and, along with that, Alfred’s patience is a weak thing.
He strides over, key dropping with a clatter, and splays his hands to Arthur’s chest. It’s his way-I’m sorry and I care and it’s more than simply touching for the sake of it. Alfred knows better than to have Arthur understand, so he drops it.
The difference in colour is even more noticeable now. Arthur’s skin is the white of something that hasn’t-shouldn’t be touched. It sends a fire through Alfred where there shouldn't be fire
( ... )
never ballpoints [67/?]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 15:33:55 UTC
Arthur is impossibly tight. He wasn’t lying, Alfred thinks, because it’s enough to make him groan; Arthur gasps, too, a rattle that makes his entire body shake, eyes closed from it all
( ... )
never ballpoints [68/?]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 15:35:46 UTC
Arthur keeps moving. Hardly; little shifts and murmurs of movement, and Alfred can tell his back must be hurting from the angle. Alfred is the considerate sort, so he wraps both arms around Arthur's narrow back and lifts him clean off.
(He considers-turning him over, and introducing Arthur's hands to the other side of the desk to grip to. To the flaking plaster of the wall. To his chair, with its creaky wheels and threadbare, cushioned back, because Alfred likes that.)
Alfred chooses the wall, in the end.
He grinds Arthur up into it, gasping yes while Arthur simply gasps. The world goes momentarily dusty, as Alfred blinds himself in a stray sunbeam, and turns back into Arthur; Arthur's body, and his eyes, screaming. To their loud silence
( ... )
I-I knew refreshing this page nonstop would pay off some day! I FINALLY CLAIM THE FIRST COMMENT
Jesus, that has got to be the most intense thing I've ever read. Shite. The seemingly subtle undercurrent of non-con between the silent exchange is horribly chilling and sick. Gods, Alfred, you scare the shit out of me. It breaks my heart, seeing how easily Arthur's protests die off with just a couple words from his teacher, even though he hates what he's doing to him. *wibbles* Uncharacteristically pliant in contrast to his canon self, but absolutely convincing and heart-wrenching, shows how much power Alfred really has over Arthur, and Alfred knows this damn too well.
He’s starting to wonder how far he can go without his hands. THIS right there my god Alfred how do you keep up the visage of even caring when you have thoughts like this running through your head ;_; And him thinking Francis Francis Francis when he's about to fuck Arthur made me shudder. Fuck, can he even hear what he's saying
( ... )
Re: never ballpoints [68/?]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 18:46:08 UTC
You know, I think this is the first part in which it hit me how damn young Arthur really is. Young and trusting and oh god, this is his first time... oh god. I think I'm going to read something with fluffy bunnies and rainbows now.
Re: never ballpoints [68/?]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 18:59:23 UTC
A-agreed, fellow!anon. This is so fantastically well-written that I can't stop reading, but I'm wandering off to find something shiny and happy and fluffy, too. :'D
Re: never ballpoints [68/?]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 19:11:42 UTC
OMG I hardly feel like...this when I read a fic. This is....adasjkdashjk...I know it's selfish but I need the next chapters so much T.T "“Oh, no, sir, please,” I nearly cried...
parts 1 - 56: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/15068.html?thread=45877212#t45877212
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I will creep back to hell where I belong, waiting anxiously for updates. I hope you're happy.
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hope you're happy
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“Stand up,” says Alfred, and he’s starting to wonder how far he can go without his hands. “Go on, Arthur.”
There’s the awful, familiar skitter of metal on wood as Arthur jumps up. The momentum sends papers rustling.
“Take off... your tie,” he says, and a quiver starts in his stomach as Arthur loosens the knot. The sound of it hitting the floor is swallowed by silence.
“Your blazer,” offers Alfred. Then, “Your shirt.”
They drop in easy succession, Arthur’s gaze never leaving the table. Something taut in Alfred’s spine is twinging, and suggesting thoughts, and Alfred runs them over with a sieve. He can no longer think.
“Look at me,” Alfred says this time, but with no less intent. “Look.”
There’s a moment, strong and there, in which Alfred thinks Arthur won’t-in which Arthur will stare at nothing forever. But then his gaze is moving, ( ... )
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He strides over, key dropping with a clatter, and splays his hands to Arthur’s chest. It’s his way-I’m sorry and I care and it’s more than simply touching for the sake of it. Alfred knows better than to have Arthur understand, so he drops it.
The difference in colour is even more noticeable now. Arthur’s skin is the white of something that hasn’t-shouldn’t be touched. It sends a fire through Alfred where there shouldn't be fire ( ... )
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(He considers-turning him over, and introducing Arthur's hands to the other side of the desk to grip to. To the flaking plaster of the wall. To his chair, with its creaky wheels and threadbare, cushioned back, because Alfred likes that.)
Alfred chooses the wall, in the end.
He grinds Arthur up into it, gasping yes while Arthur simply gasps. The world goes momentarily dusty, as Alfred blinds himself in a stray sunbeam, and turns back into Arthur; Arthur's body, and his eyes, screaming. To their loud silence ( ... )
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Jesus, that has got to be the most intense thing I've ever read. Shite. The seemingly subtle undercurrent of non-con between the silent exchange is horribly chilling and sick. Gods, Alfred, you scare the shit out of me. It breaks my heart, seeing how easily Arthur's protests die off with just a couple words from his teacher, even though he hates what he's doing to him. *wibbles* Uncharacteristically pliant in contrast to his canon self, but absolutely convincing and heart-wrenching, shows how much power Alfred really has over Arthur, and Alfred knows this damn too well.
He’s starting to wonder how far he can go without his hands. THIS right there my god Alfred how do you keep up the visage of even caring when you have thoughts like this running through your head ;_; And him thinking Francis Francis Francis when he's about to fuck Arthur made me shudder. Fuck, can he even hear what he's saying ( ... )
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"“Oh, no, sir, please,” I nearly cried...
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