[Fanfiction] Honey Honey
Title: Honey Honey
Characters/Pairings: USUK
Rating/Warning: R, cross dressing
Summary: Nothing will stop Alfred from getting into that sweets buffet. Nothing.
Note: Inspired by a short manga by Junko.
I haven't written in a while, so this is probably a pile of shit. OTL
--
Arthur could hear the man before he ever saw him, could hear the heavy thud of footsteps coming down the hall, rounding the corner and skidding to a halt. He felt his heart beat a little faster in anticipation, but refused to turn his head, pretending he hadn't noticed the ruckus at all, even though the sudden stop had placed him a mere two feet to Arthur's left.
“Arthur, did you see this!?”
He turned his head then, to see what the man was talking about, only to have a flyer abruptly shoved into his face. He scowled, backing up so that he could get a proper look at it, then scoffed outright. The flyer advertised a new bakery and sweet shop that was having its grand opening this weekend, and in an effort to get customers it seemed the owner was offering an afternoon all-you-can eat buffet of their apparently world-famous sweets. Not only that, Arthur noticed, eyes wide, but the price had been cut in half. It was a two for one deal and Arthur scanned the rest of the flyer in an effort to find the catch.
Before he could, however, the flyer was yanked away and Arthur was met with the smiling face of his closest friend: Alfred Jones, the all-American loud mouth and astronomy major of the University of Hetalia. The man was fidgeting with the flyer, cheeks flushed, and swinging his hips back and forth in obvious anticipation, his enthusiasm coming off him in almost palpable waves.
“We have to go,” Alfred said firmly, smile threatening to break his face. “I did all my homework at the Coffee Hub this afternoon so that I'd have the entire day free tomorrow to make this event. I even wrote my essay on the planetary asteroid defense study! It took me four cups of coffee but I got it done!”
Arthur hummed at the coffee comment. That would certainly explain the hyper-active excitement with which Alfred was currently dancing in place, hopping around in an effort to showcase his discovery and perhaps appeal to the giant soft spot Arthur had smack in the middle of his chest for him. He usually functioned on the assumption that Alfred didn't know about it, but he wouldn't be entirely surprised if the smartass had figured it out and had been ruthlessly abusing it for their entire acquaintance. Arthur had known the American for a little under half a year now and although he'd like to think he knew how to handle him, Arthur was well aware that in most cases, he was entirely wrong.
Because, really, Arthur's track record for turning Alfred down was horrendous, all things considered.
“Then by all means,” Arthur said smoothly. “Go.”
“Woo!” Alfred cheered, then pointed his finger at Arthur. “You're coming with me, right?”
For a short moment, Arthur wondered why on earth Alfred would think him the number one candidate to go to a sweets buffet with, because Arthur hated sweets with the same enthusiasm he hated the French (which was a lot, just to be clear). Did Alfred just want to spend the afternoon with him? Was he asking Arthur on a date? Could Arthur - heart in throat, ears heating rapidly, mildy choking on the last inhale he'd managed before Alfred had asked - really be that lucky?
“I knew you'd want to try their tiramisu and that new chocolate cake they have so I ran all the way over here from the science building to catch you!
And then he remembered that Alfred was actually completely unaware that Arthur despised sweets. Normally, Arthur would blame this on the man's tendency towards being completely oblivious to everything around him, because it was a recurring problem and Arthur had no qualms about placing the blame entirely on Alfred's shoulders. The blasted twit usually deserved it anyway. Unfortunately, this one was actually Arthur's fault.
Completely and utterly his fault, to be honest, and it was a tragic, tragic tale.
It had been his third day on campus and Arthur wasn't exactly good at making small talk, or friends. He'd been slightly overwhelmed with his new school, located across an entire ocean and situated somewhere that was entirely too cold for a British gentleman, so he'd stumbled over himself when he'd run into a bright and cheerful American during welcome week. It had been at a cafe in the student union, so full with new students that there was literally no open seats anywhere. Alfred and his friends had been lucky enough to grab a table as a group of three girls left, and that table had just happened to be right next to Arthur's.
Arthur had stared at the mound of sugar that had been masquerading as a pastry on Alfred's plate, wondering how on earth anyone could eat that much dessert at two in the afternoon, until Alfred himself had snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Looks awesome, right?” Alfred had asked, smiling in a friendly way that implied he had absolutely no problems with talking to strangers. Arthur had often wondered if this particular trait had vexed Alfred's mother when he was a child, but that was neither here nor there.
Arthur had blushed and tried to think of the right thing to say, his teacup warm in his hands as he caught a glimpse of the bright blue of Alfred's eyes. “Yes,” he'd managed, trying to be nice. “It looks very good.”
“You like sweets, too?” Alfred had asked, smile genuinely pleased.
Arthur had originally planned on correcting him, telling him not really, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it, and with anyone else on the planet - he was sure - those exact words would've come tumbling out without any prompting or thought. Perhaps he would've even managed to say them with a proper amount of scathing judgement, because, really, no one needed to eat that much sugar in one sitting.
But this man was gorgeous and when he flashed that smile at him, Arthur's brain decided instead to go with, “Yes, very much.” Because, hey - maybe if they had something in common, something Alfred obviously enjoyed a great deal, then he'd have an excuse to keep talking to him. And while Arthur found himself shaking with nervousness, he'd give anything to keep this conversation going for another couple minutes, an hour, the rest of his lifetime - if he could swing it.
“Sweet!” Alfred had said, and dug into his dessert. He'd come back up, mouth full, and added, “Most people think it's a little strange that I like desserts so much, I guess 'cause I'm a dude? But it's totally awesome that you like them too. We should hang out!”
Arthur winced internally at the memory. He'd known it would come back to bite him in the arse, but that little white lie had gained him entry into Alfred's world and his group of friends (as horribly lame as that sounded), and Arthur had spent the next five months patting himself on the back (alternately as a gesture of accomplishment and an attempt at consoling himself for killing his taste buds). Sure, he'd had to smile through more sweets in five months than he had in his entire life, but if it meant that he could stay friends with Alfred, be by his side if only platonically, he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. And he was actually getting pretty good at pretending to like chocolate.
Of course Alfred would think him the perfect person to go with. Kiku would never have time to go with Alfred, even if he wanted to, and Ludwig was entirely too serious to participate in something so flippant. Feliciano wouldn't go if Ludwig didn't, Ivan was entirely too creepy to even ask, despite the fact that he was in almost every one of Alfred's classes, and Arthur would punch Francis in the balls if he so much as thought of saying yes to Alfred's invitation (and the frog knew it, too; the threat of another broken nose had kept him a decent distance away from Alfred's arse for a good three months now).
“Of course,” Arthur said, trying to make his smile look genuine even though he wanted nothing more than to run away.
He felt like he was being torn in two. On one hand the thought of an entire afternoon of pastries and sweet fillings almost made him want to vomit right there on the spot. On the other hand, however, he would love to do something with Alfred that involved just the two of them, had been starved for it for the past two months at least, since he'd discovered he liked the man as more than a friend (well, he'd known that from the start, but the actual pining hadn't started until about three months in, to be clear) and, subsequently, how difficult it was to organize an outing that didn't involve their entire group of friends.
The realization of his feelings had hit Arthur rather like a freight train (again, only like a freight train because Arthur had actually been expecting like, a toy train or something equally as non-threatening to his sanity) and he'd been sort of wobbling in and out of social coherency ever since, attempting subtle overtures one day and then making a complete asshat out of himself the next in a roller coaster ride of hormones and - well, other urges.
His brain couldn't seem to decide on any one course of action, his mouth kept vomiting shit he hadn't even intended on saying, his heart was completely unsure which emotion to stick with, and his body was only too happy to treat everything that happened within ten feet of Alfred as an excuse to get a raging hardon. Most days, Arthur just resigned himself to idiocy.
Alfred was driving him goddamn insane - had been for the past two months - and this whole sweet buffet date that wasn't really a date thing? Not helping.
“Awesome,” Alfred said with a grin. “I'll meet you at the library when you get done with your shift and we can go!”
Alfred waved to him as he ran off in the other direction, too full of energy to stay still for long, and Arthur smiled weakly as he disappeared behind the corner of a building. Arthur let his palm meet his face in a universal sign of utter and exhausting defeat in the face of stupidity, then groaned out loud as he realized that he was definitely enough of a masochist - and possibly completely in love with the stupid twit - that he would suffer through an entire afternoon of sickeningly sweet confectionaries just so that he could sit next to the man.
God, he was fucked.
-
“I'm sorry, sir, but this buffet is for couples only.”
Arthur could have wept. No really, he was this fucking close to just letting tears of happiness stream down his face.
“What!?” Alfred blurted, trying to look around the hostess into the restaurant beyond, eyes wide with longing. “Seriously?”
They'd arrived not two minutes ago, Alfred so excited about the oncoming piles of sugar that he'd literally bounced the entire way here, only to be met by this entirely impassable road block. Alfred had either read the flyer incorrectly (not a surprise), glossed over the parts that didn't concern him (also not a surprise), or just figured he could get in on his good ol' America charm. Arthur had been both a witness to and a victim of this method before, so he could say, without a doubt, that there was a 76% chance that it might actually work.
“I'm afraid so, sir,” the hostess said. “You may return during regular hours and visit our cafe-”
“But we're totally a couple,” Alfred interrupted abruptly, swinging an arm over Arthur's shoulders.
Arthur, for his part, just tried to stay as still as possible and hoped to everything holy that Alfred couldn't actually hear how fast his heart was beating through the parts of Arthur's skin that he was touching, or see how red his face was after that comment. A couple? Oh god, if only, Arthur thought, hands fidgeting at his sides as the hostess eyed Alfred's arm on his shoulders.
Sometimes he wished Alfred weren't so oblivious, and other times, he thanked every god he could that the man didn't notice a goddamn thing.
“Really,” the woman asked, tone indicative of exactly how see-through Alfred's lie really was.
“Yeah, definitely,” Alfred assured her, not noticing that his lie wasn't working at all. “Right, babe?” he asked, turning to plant a quick kiss on Arthur's cheek.
Arthur closed his eyes briefly, giving in to the temptation of fantasy for an elongated second before railing internally against his weakness and Alfred's stupid decision to poke at it mercilessly. Then he opened them again and focused his eyes on the hostess who still, obviously, did not believe them. The woman turned to Alfred with a strained smile and Arthur just tried to keep his blush under control.
“I'm terribly sorry, sir, but this buffet is for traditional couples,” she said.
Arthur's eyes narrowed and Alfred leaned in closer to the woman, arm slipping off Arthur's shoulders entirely. “What do you mean 'traditional'?” Alfred asked slowly.
The woman leaned in as well. “Traditional as in 'not fake.'”
Alfred stared her down for another long moment but when she refused to budge on the issue, he just turned around and walked out the door. Arthur was caught unawares for a couple seconds before he nodded to the woman and took off after Alfred.
“Alfred!” he called, heading down the sidewalk after spotting his friend's figure. “Wait!”
Alfred slowed until Arthur caught up, then started walking again. Arthur, unsure of what to say, went the comforting route. “Sorry you couldn't get your sweets,” he said.
“That's the stupidest reason for refusing customers ever,” Alfred said petulantly.
“Agreed,” Arthur said, gaze drifting to the buildings they were slowly passing. “But there really isn't anything we can do about it.” Unless Alfred suddenly turned into a girl and asked him out. Arthur blushed a bit, because that thought should not make his stomach do a triple backflip. Nope.
Alfred was silent and after a minute of no response, Arthur glanced at his friend.
Alfred shook his head, turned, and smiled at him - and it was the kind of smile that said you may think I'm stupid but I totally have a plan right now that definitely has at least a 50% chance of succeeding and trust me when I say it's gonna be awe~some! and Arthur blanched just a little bit.
Generally speaking, it was a creepy sort of grin that didn't ever bode well for Arthur's well being.
-
Arthur was sat in a chair, staring at the curtain of a dressing room with no small amount of dread on his face. His arms were folded in a vain attempt to ward off the department store employees or any other customer who might take an interest in what was going on. If two young men in the women's section debating whether the pink one or the red one would flatter his figure better hadn't been a big enough tip off, the fact that they'd headed straight to the dressing rooms afterward surely was.
“This is never going to work,” Arthur told the curtain.
There was shuffling beyond it, a grunt, and then, “It totally will, dude, stop being such a pessimist.”
“It's not going to work because you're at least seven centimeters taller than me and broad in a way that all the frill in the universe isn't going to hide,” Arthur argued.
The curtain shifted abruptly and Alfred swore quietly. “Hey now,” he said once he'd recovered. “Don't harsh on my figure, dude. I'm just big boned.”
Arthur scowled even though Alfred couldn't see it. “That's not what I-”
“I was originally gonna make you do it,” Alfred interrupted happily and Arthur blushed at the thought. “But you're eyebrows are way too thick, no one would believe it.”
“Oi,” Arthur grumbled. “They are not that-”
“Ta-da!” Alfred yelled, pulling the curtain aside with a flourish so that Arthur could gaze upon his altered appearance.
The first stop they'd made was the costume shop, where Alfred had bought a wig the same color as his own hair, just longer. It fell about his face in loose waves, bangs sweeping across his forehead in a way that made him look more elegant than Arthur knew him to be. It fell to just above his shoulders, curling nicely about his neck. Their second stop had been the department store and Alfred was currently modeling the outfit they'd chosen not ten minutes earlier.
He wore a pair of tight, black jeans over his original sneakers, stressed in a way that Arthur was sure the makers had meant to be fashionable. These had actually been found in the young men's section, and they hugged Alfred's ass like a glove, making shivers run up Arthur's spine every time Alfred spun around. Over his knew jeans, Alfred wore a shirt that was too short to be a dress, but nonetheless covered him to almost mid-thigh. It was a layered thing, with a sewed on black vest edged in a wavy sort of frill, set on top of a deep maroon, short sleeved affair that tapered off in uneven layers at the bottom. The loose fit of the garment, coupled with the frills, actually did a halfway decent job of hiding Alfred's broad shoulders, and the sweater he wore over it helped to cover up his muscled arms.
Coupled with the wig, Arthur had to admit the man might actually pull it off. The only problem was-
“No boobs,” Arthur said, staring at Alfred's flat chest.
“Tons of girls have flat chests, Arthur,” Alfred said, touching the area almost self-consciously. “Don't be so judgmental.”
Arthur rolled his eyes in an attempt to hide the fact that Alfred's appearance, and the fact that he was putting so much effort into appearing as if they were dating, were making his tummy erupt with butterflies and his cheeks explode with color.
“But seriously,” Alfred said, stepping out of the dressing room entirely. “How do I look?”
Arthur swallowed thickly, letting his gaze rest on Alfred once more. His expression was earnest and a little nervous and Arthur tried a smile. “Try to pitch your voice a little higher and stop saying 'dude' all the time and I think you should be fine,” he mumbled.
“All right!” Alfred cheered, throwing his arms around Arthur's neck. “Let's go get our cake on, dude!”
Arthur was 98% sure the wanker had done that on purpose.
-
“I'm sorry, sir,” the hostess repeated for the second time that day. “But this buffet is for-”
“Couples, right?” Alfred interrupted, voice slightly higher than Arthur was used to hearing. Alfred's arms were woven through one of Arthur's own and he was all but cuddling his shoulder as he smiled charmingly at the hostess. “This is my boyfriend and he's very traditional, if you know what I mean.”
And then he winked. Arthur tried not to die of embarrassment.
The hostess was clearly unimpressed by Alfred's disguise, and his pun, and Arthur feared they had gone through all of that shopping and suffered through all the odd looks as they walked here for nothing. But then she looked skyward as if communing with some higher power, perhaps asking for some more patience to deal with the morons, and shrugged her shoulders as she turned back to them with a forced smile.
“Right this way, then,” she said, turning and leading them both into the cafe.
“Dude, we are so in!” Alfred whispered, tugging him by the arm as he hurried to follow the hostess to their seat.
“Gotta act all couple-y, though,” Alfred added in a whisper as the hostess set out their menus for them. “For today, just act like my totally awesome lovey-dovey boy-toy, okay!?”
Arthur just scowled through his blush and allowed himself to be pulled, wondering why it was so easy for Alfred to affect the attitudes and speech patterns of a dopey girl. Alfred sat down in the booth with a satisfied smile, taking the menu from the hostess and snuggling up to Arthur until she rolled her eyes and walked away. Arthur tried not to let it get to him, but when Alfred erupted into sniggers upon her exit, Arthur cringed and subtly tried to shift away from the soft puffs of breaths near his neck.
“Okay, Arthur, what should we get,” Alfred asked, leaning his head on Arthur's shoulder as he peered at the menu. “Aah~” he cooed. “So many choices! This is gonna be the tastiest day ever.”
The hostess walked by again with another couple, her eyes tracking to them suspiciously, and Arthur said, “I don't know, love, you choose,” to try and sell their act. He felt his cheeks heat when the hostess merely raised her eyebrows and moved on, directing the other couple to a table near the back of the cafe.
“Okay!” Alfred cheered and went off to get what he deemed suitable from the buffet. He came back with nearly half the menu.
Arthur cringed at the thought of eating all that sugar and tried not to let it show on his face when their table was covered with small plates containing cakes and tarts, jellied candies resting atop pastries, brownies and chocolates of all kinds. Alfred wasted no time digging in and Arthur could tell by the look on his face alone that he was enjoying himself immensely. Arthur let a small smile flutter across his expression, because if Alfred was this happy, then all the cross dressing and lying and downright embarrassment was probably worth it. Probably.
“Aren't you gonna eat any?” Alfred asked, swallowing the last bite of his most recent confectionary treat as he turned to regard Arthur.
Arthur blinked at him, caught in his thoughts. “Oh, yes, I suppose...” he trailed off, picking from the pile what seemed to be the most tolerable, a glazed looking croissant that had chocolate drizzled across the top. He sunk his tiny little fork into the pastry and took a bite as Alfred watched, smiling around it as he swallowed.
“How is it?” Alfred asked, excitement in his tone.
“Very good, would you like some?”
“Sure!” Alfred chimed, but just sat there with a big smile on his face. When Arthur raised his eyebrow at him, Alfred sang in a low voice, “Cou~ple~” and pointed to his mouth.
Arthur gave in and cut off another bite, raising his tiny fork to Alfred's mouth and waiting for him to lean forward, wrapping his lips around the treat and leaning back with a delighted look on his face. He hummed in obvious pleasure as he chewed and swallowed, opening his eyes so that he could wink at Arthur.
“My turn,” Alfred hummed, choosing a berry covered cheesecake and cutting off a bite. He turned to Arthur and before he could insist that Alfred enjoy it by himself, the fork was in his mouth and Alfred was making yummy noises at him as he slid the utensil free of Arthur's mouth. Arthur tried his hardest to keep the grimace from his face as the suger hit his tongue, as the cookie crust mingled with the sweet filling. He was grateful when Alfred turned to take his own bite, because he couldn't quite keep himself from sticking his tongue out after he managed to swallow it, bringing his hand up to wipe any excess sugar from his lips.
Arthur turned to see what Alfred had decided to taste next only to find Alfred blinking up at the hostess, who was hovering nearby with judgement written all over her face. Arthur frowned.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Seriously?” the hostess asked. “You're not fooling anyone guys.”
“I beg your pardon,” Arthur started.
“You are obviously not a couple, and what's more-” the hostess began, hand on hip as she chastised them.
Alfred, however, cut her off abruptly. “We are too a couple,” he said, his tone clearly upset. “I'll prove it!”
The hostess looked about as convinced as she had earlier and Arthur was about to try and reason with her further, because honestly, was it really worth all this trouble to deny Alfred his treats - why couldn't she just let it go? - when Alfred huffed behind him and grabbed his face, tugging him away from his staring contest with the hostess. Arthur went, frowning, until he felt his lips hit Alfred's in a kiss, Alfred's fingers splayed across his cheek, thumb resting on his chin as he directed Arthur into dovetailing against him. Arthur was stiff with surprise, but let Alfred lead him awkwardly until he pulled away to glare triumphantly up at the hostess.
“See?” Alfred asked, releasing Arthur's face so that he could put one hand on his hip. “I love him very much and all I want to do is eat some cake with my boyfriend.”
The hostess seemed slightly taken aback by the kiss, as if she honestly hadn't considered the fact that they could've been a couple until just now - which, yeah, they weren't, but still. She coughed a little to hide her embarrassment and said, “Well, I suppose...yes. Enjoy your sweets,” and walked away.
“Finally,” Alfred mumbled, voice dropping back to its normal octave as he shifted in his seat. “Sorry about that, Art, but seriously, I didn't know how else to get her...to...” he trailed off.
Arthur's face was in his hands. He hadn't heard any of the exchange beyond I love him very much and after the kiss, it was just too much for him. He couldn't take it anymore, his blush was officially out of control, his heart refused to settle the fuck down and his breathing had decided to all but give out on him altogether. He couldn't look Alfred in the eye, not after that, because he liked the guy, quite possibly loved the idiot, and was thrown completely out of his rhythm by a mere kiss when Alfred treated it like it was no big deal. He was too embarrassed to do much more than hide his face and pray that Alfred wouldn't notice.
Because he would give himself away if he looked up, he would, he just knew it.
“Arthur? Arthur, what's wrong? Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” Arthur managed to mumble through his hands. He hunched in on himself even more and turned away, only to feel Alfred's hands on his shoulder, turning him back toward him.
“You're not fine,” Alfred argued. “Come on, look at me.”
“No,” Arthur said petulantly, because if he looked at him now, Alfred would see how much that little show had effected him and no matter how dense the man truly was, there was no way he wouldn't put two and two together.
“Arthur,” Alfred repeated, pulling Arthur's hands away from his face forcefully.
“What?” he asked, scowling at the floor.
“Look at me, please?” Alfred asked, and his voice was so concerned and sweet and pleading that Arthur found himself tilting his head up even as his scowl started to turn desperate.
“Nothing to see here,” he grumbled, not meeting Alfred's eye. “Eat some more of your cake and just-”
“Did you...?” Alfred interrupted, trailing off as he bent his head to look at Arthur's face. Arthur's scowl intensified.
“Just cock off,” Arthur growled, going on the defensive.
Alfred frowned at him, tilted his head, and just when Arthur thought that he would have to physically push Alfred's face away from his own - and possibly into a piece of cake if he didn't let up about this - Alfred dipped his head in and kissed him again.
This time it was gentler, longer, and Alfred leaned into him with his whole body as he shifted his lips against Arthur's, opened his mouth just a tiny bit and licked. Arthur was still and unresponsive, his heart pounding a steady, staccato rhythm through his ears as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. Alfred was kissing him. Not just to get cake and sweets, but actually kissing him because...what? Why, exactly? Arthur hardly dared hope.
Alfred pulled away just enough to speak.
“Did you like it, Arthur?” he whispered, low enough that Arthur barely heard him. Alfred pressed his lips to Arthur's again, lingering for a long moment before pulling back. “Do you like...me?”
Yes, Arthur wanted to say, loudly and emphatically and possibly hysterically. He wanted to throw his arms around the stupid git and smother that stupid, loud mouth with kisses until they were both breathless. He wanted to slap him and hug him all at once, slam him into the booth and ravish him, then take that stupid cheesecake and throw it in his face; and all these thoughts flew through his mind in such a chaotic tumble, it was a wonder he could function at all.
But this time, when Alfred's lips met his, when they pressed together as Alfred leaned in, warmth radiating through his new dress, the long locks of his fake hair brushing against Arthur's cheek, Arthur responded. He pressed back as his hand came up to cup Alfred's cheek, heart soaring as he opened his mouth to Alfred's, licked at his front teeth before delving inside, pulling Alfred against him in the booth as he tilted his head to the side to deepen it.
Alfred shifted with him, crawling so that he was leaning over Arthur, almost on his lap entirely as their tongues tangled and their breath mingled, gasping for breath in between kisses and licks. Arthur's fingers slid up and through Alfred's fake hair, careful not to push or pull the wig out of place as he tried to pull him even closer. Alfred'd hands slid toward Arthur's waist, toward the hem of his shirt, and the tips of his fingers met warm skin just as someone very close by cleared their throat.
Loudly. And with purpose.
The two broke apart, Arthur glancing up to find, once again, the hostess standing above them, this time accompanied by what looked to be the manager of the cafe. Alfred's cheeks pinked and Arthur cleared his throat as Alfred shifted off of him and to the side as he tugged down on his shirt, sitting properly in the booth as judgmental stares rained down upon them.
“I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the hostess said.
Normally, Arthur would've put up a fight, because they'd been nothing but horribly judgmental since they'd walked in here and all they'd wanted to do was eat some stupid cake. But considering things had gotten rather heated in their booth and had they not intervened, Arthur may well have forgotten where they were and started shedding clothes, he decided to cut his losses and just do as they asked. Alfred seemed to be of the same mind, but before Arthur could apologize for their behavior, Alfred opened his mouth.
“Okay, but could I get these to go?”
Arthur turned to glare at him.
“What?” Alfred asked.
-
“Oh, god you make me hot,” Alfred whispered, lips pressed firmly against Arthur's throat, tongue darting out to lick a line from adams apple to chin.
There was a bag of cakes and pastries thrown haphazardly on his kitchen table and they'd managed to make it to the couch, where Alfred hovered over him, still dressed as a woman, fake blond locks drifting down to curtain around them.
“You have no idea, seriously,” Alfred murmured, fingers lifting the hem of Arthur's shirt and pulling up, breaking away from skin to tug it up and over his head.
Once freed, Arthur blinked up at him, tense and a little confused. Shirtless and flushed from kissing, Arthur wiggled on instinct, nervous energy making him buck up into the body above him. Alfred reciprocated the motion, mouth still moving as he went for Arthur's neck. Arthur resigned himself to blushing for the rest of the night as his hands came up to push lightly, ineffectually, at Alfred's shoulders. His mind was currently trying valiantly to wrap around the concept that Alfred was humping him so deep into the couch cushions that Arthur might have difficulty getting back out again, and it wasn't quite working. How had they gone from necking in a sweets shop to this?
“We have the same tastes, and we like the same stuff, and you're the cutest thing ever when you blush,” Alfred said, tearing Arthur away from his thoughts. “I can't believe you didn't tell me, Art, when we get along so well already.”
“What?” Arthur asked, slightly confused. Did he mean the sweets thing? Was Alfred's decision to take Arthur home based entirely on the fact that Arthur could successfully fake his way through enjoying a tiramisu? Seriously?
“We're so similar,” Alfred said again, nosing Arthur's neck. “I mean, where it counts at least.”
He had to be kidding.
“And you were so cute when I fed you with that tiny fork,” Alfred went on, the smile clear in his voice. “I wanna kiss you when you got sugar all over your-”
“I don't like sweets,” Arthur blurted, cheeks red and eyes wide. Because it was too much. He couldn't just sit here while Alfred went on and on about how all of Arthur's fake qualities were so amazing, and how they could do this and that just because Arthur loved sweets and really, holy shit. Did Alfred base all of his relationships on confectionaries?! It wouldn't surprise him if he did, but-
Alfred pulled back to frown at him and Arthur covered his face with his hands as he let out a shaky exhale.
“So stop going on and on about how we like the same stuff, because we don't,” Arthur said in a rush. “We don't have anything in common and I'm a horrible person for lying to you.”
“Wha...?” Alfred asked, tilting his head. “Then why did you-”
“Because I liked you!” Arthur said, and he didn't think his cheeks had ever been so red, or that his heart had ever beat so obnoxiously loud, or that his breathing had ever been so unreliably short, or - At any rate, he waited anxiously for Alfred's reaction to his confession and tried not to die in the meantime.
But Alfred just blinked at him for a moment, before leaning in close so that their noses were almost touching. “That's funny,” he said. “And kinda sweet- haha! Get it?”
“What?” Arthur asked, confused. “I don't-”
Alfred cut him off when he pressed his mouth to his, tongue darting out to tangle with Arthur's as he abruptly lost his breath. His hands came up to grip at Alfred's shoulders, pressing back and up, trying to get as much contact with Alfred as possible even as his mind struggled to play catch-up.
“I don't care,” Alfred murmured against Arthur's lips, mumbling and kissing all at once, and Arthur's heart beat hard, twice, before stopping altogether.
“At all,” Alfred continued, and Arthur's heart started up again at a fevered pace. Alfred lowered his hips, sinking down into Arthur's lap as he ground against him and Arthur could feel his erection pressing into his hip, could fell Alfred's want as he tried to press as close as he possibly could.
Arthur broke away from the kiss and pressed his lips to Alfred's cheek before he murmured, “Get rid of this.”
Arthur's hand came up and he gently wedged his fingers between the wig's front and Alfred's forehead, pushing back slowly so as not to catch any of the Alfred's hair in the process. When the wig was halfway back and off, Arthur tugged it free of Alfred's head entirely, tossing it behind him and over the back of the couch before letting his fingers return, carding them through short blonde locks as a grin split his face. Alfred was panting at him, hips still moving in circles as he frowned in Arthur's direction.
“Whas'amatter?” he asked, tongue darting out to lick a path along Arthur's cheek.
“I didn't think it was possible for your hair to be any messier,” Arthur said with a smirk, fingering the random strands of hair that were sticking up in the front, joining the one cowlick that usually graced Alfred's hairdo and making it seem like he had six untamable tufts.
Alfred didn't bother touching his hair, but instead ran his fingers through Arthur's own, tilting Arthur's head to the side with the force of his touch. “You have absolutely no right to tell me that,” Alfred growled, then bent to kiss the underside of Arthur's jaw forcefully.
Arthur let out a low moan at his enthusiasm and said, “Point conceded.”
Arthur let himself tumble to the side, laying on the couch as Alfred crawled over him. Their mouths met again and Alfred's hands ran slowly down Arthur's bare sides until they met the hem of his jeans, tugging idly as their lips dovetailed, the kiss deepening until both had to come up for air, gasping into each other's mouths. Alfred popped the button on Arthur's jeans and Arthur tugged at the bottom of Alfred's shirt in retaliation, yanking the overly long fabric up until Alfred's hands could no longer work at shimming Arthur's jeans down his hips. Alfred abandoned the task and raised his arms, shaking his head as the shirt came up and off, glasses balancing precariously on his nose from getting caught by the neckline. After tugging his arms free, Alfred righted them, winked at Arthur and went to work on his own jeans, unzipping them quickly and pushing them down his hips.
Arthur licked his lips when he noticed Alfred had not bothered to wear pants beneath them and his cock was bared to his sight, flushed and hard. He was about to comment on Alfred going commando, when he noticed the American was struggling.
The jeans had gotten stuck on his thighs. Arthur tilted his head and watched.
Alfred grunted as he twisted, trying to push them down to no avail. He leaned over Arthur, bracing one hand near his shoulder as the other tried pushing them down at a different angle, Alfred's hips wiggling and twitching as he kicked his legs, but the jeans still refused to move much lower than mid-thigh. Arthur was caught between letting his amusement show and enjoying the sight of Alfred's dick moving against Arthur's hip as he bucked and squirmed in an effort to wiggle free.
“Holy hell,” Alfred muttered, leaning to the other side and switching hands, attempting to do one thigh at a time.
“How did you get them on in the first place?” Arthur asked, abandoning the lovely sight of Alfred's bouncing cock to try and aid him in his quest for nakedness.
“I don't know-” Alfred started to say, when Arthur's attempt at helping him get out of his new jeans accidentally tipped him too far and he lost his balance, tipping right off the couch and onto the floor with a loud oomph!
There was a moment of silence, wherein Arthur wondered if that little mishap had ruined his chances at sex entirely, before the sound of wiggling resumed and there was abruptly two jean-clad legs sticking straight up in the air.
“Arthur~” Alfred whined, kicking his feet. “Pull them off for me.”
Arthur sighed with a small smile and sat up, scooting far enough down the couch so that he could get a decent grip on Alfred's legs. He took one leg in hand, fingers closed tightly around the hem of the jeans, and pulled, twisting the jeans back and forth as they slowly began to slide down Alfred's leg. Once one leg was off, Arthur turned to the other, smirking at Alfred as the jeans finally began to come free.
“Do you know how ridiculous this is?” he asked.
Alfred grunted when they were completely off and he was left lying entirely naked on the floor. He let his hand drag down his chest slowly, and Arthur watched as he wrapped his fingers around his own erection and began to stroke, eyes half lidded and staring at Arthur's own. “More ridiculous than the fact that you're just standing there like a doof when I'm completely naked and hard for you?”
“Uhm,” Arthur said.
Alfred spread his legs and let his fingers drift down toward his entrance briefly, and Arthur wondered if this was revenge for lying about the sweets thing. He licked his lips and let his hands drift down to the button of his own jeans, fingering them open and tugging down the zipper even as his eyes stayed glued on Alfred. He shimmied them down his hips, catching his boxers with them, and kicked both off as Alfred continued to put on a show for him. His hands were everywhere on his own body, caressing his hip before dipping down to cradle his balls, fingers trailing back up and around to squeeze the head of his cock. All while his other hand made short, circular passes about his chest, flicking his nipples as his back arched, splaying wide as it slid low enough to catch the edge of his navel.
“Holy shit,” Arthur murmured, and his own hand crept down to grip his cock loosely, the slight friction of skin on skin enough to make his breath hitch. Alfred crooked a finger at him, and Arthur gave his dick one firm stroke before lowering himself to lie above Alfred.
Alfred grabbed him as soon as Arthur came close enough and brought their hips together in sweet, heated friction, thrusting jerkily up into Arthur as their lips met. Arthur tried to keep up with Alfred's frantic pace, tried to catch his tongue as it swept into his mouth, but the kiss turned sloppy and wet as their hips moved together. The heat in Arthur's stomach made it all but impossible to focus on anything but how good it felt to finally be pressed up against Alfred, to feel him hard and wanting beneath him, to hear him panting in his ear as they worked themselves closer and closer to climax.
Alfred pulled away, trailing his lips across Arthur's cheek as he rolled them both, positioning Arthur beneath him as he balanced on one hip. He pulled up to look at Arthur and smirked, the hand not holding him up trailing down Arthur's smooth chest to the coarse hair at the juncture of his hips. He squeezed the base of Arthur's cock gently before letting his fingers linger on the prominent jut of Arthur's hipbones.
“Show me,” Alfred murmured, eyes dark with need.
Arthur was panting, trying to catch his breath as his hips made tiny movements, jerky attempts at persuading Alfred's fingers to drift back to where he really wanted them. “What?” he asked, hand grasping at Alfred's wrist, but putting no real effort into directing it.
“Show me what you like,” Alfred clarified, and Arthur's cheeks bloomed as Alfred dipped his head briefly to swipe his tongue over Arthur's nipple. He let out a long exhale against Arthur's skin and Arthur's back arched in response, hand tugging slightly at Alfred's wrist. Alfred rose back up and smiled at him. “Touch yourself.”
“I,” Arthur started, embarrassed. “I don't-”
Alfred twisted his hand, bringing Arthur's fingers down and wrapping them around his cock before letting go entirely. “Show me,” Alfred murmured, and Arthur swallowed thickly as Alfred's gaze shifted deliberately from Arthur's face to his dick.
Arthur stroked himself, slow at first, terribly embarrassed at having Alfred's attention so focused on his pleasure, and then faster as he found his rhythm, thrusting up into his hand as he twisted on the down stroke. He closed his eyes and let himself go, and his chest tightened as he pressed against that spot, the one right beneath the head of his cock, shivers shooting up and down his spine. He could feel the heat pooling in his stomach starting to overflow as Alfred's hands trailed up and down his thighs, close enough to tease, close enough to set Arthur's nerves alight with want and need.
“Alfred, please,” Arthur panted, opening his eyes to find Alfred's gaze once again on his face.
“Yeah, okay,” Alfred said. “I gotcha, babe.”
Alfred moved up Arthur's body and took his lips in a sloppy kiss, broke free and just panted against the corner of Arthur's mouth as he lined their hips up and pushed Arthur's hand away. He took both their erections in hand, smearing precome and sweat with his long fingers, and started a quick pace that nearly took Arthur's breath away entirely. Arthur arched into it, hands grabbing at the carpet beneath him in an attempt to anchor something, the feel of Alfred's cock, hard and wet and slick against his own, a sensation almost too much to handle. He gave up his quest for a handhold beneath him and latched onto Alfred's hips as he turned his head, biting at the underside of Alfred's jaw.
“I'm-” Arthur gasped, trying to find his breath. “I'm close. So- ah! So close.”
“I know,” Alfred told him, voice ragged, hand tightening has he ground their hips together. “Oh, god- come for me, baby, come for me.”
“Ah- Alfred!” Arthur shouted, voice muffled in Alfred's neck, and he could feel it, the heat and pressure and that blinding sort of breathlessness starting to overcome him, making his back arch and his head tilt back as one last twist of Alfred's hand sent him over the edge. His vision went black for a blissfully long moment and then all he could hear was Alfred's own harsh groan as he pumped them both through orgasm, wringing them dry as their hips thrust against one another.
“Holy shit,” Alfred panted, pushing himself up and dropping his forehead to rest against Arthur's chest. “Holy shit, that was hot,” he finished, giving up and dropping down to drape himself across Arthur.
“You're heavy,” Arthur mumbled, but brought his arms up to wrap around Alfred's waist regardless, pulling him close.
“Must've...” Alfred murmured, trailing off.
“Hmm?” Arthur hummed in question.
“Must've looked pretty hot in that wig, eh?” Alfred asked. “Wasn't wearing it ten minutes before you jumped me.”
Arthur scoffed at the obvious exaggeration and wiggled a bit to get more comfortable. It was pretty plush carpet, but it was still the floor and he hadn't been lying when he'd said Alfred was heavy. “It wasn't the wig.”
“Then what was it?” Alfred asked sleepily.
Arthur pushed at Alfred's side, looking away briefly. “You,” Arthur mumbled, blushing. Alfred snuggled happily into his neck and Arthur cleared his throat a bit. “And possibly those jeans”
Alfred chuckled, and Arthur turned his head so that his own smile was hidden against Alfred's shoulder.
End.
--
Apologies.
Characters/Pairings: USUK
Rating/Warning: R, cross dressing
Summary: Nothing will stop Alfred from getting into that sweets buffet. Nothing.
Note: Inspired by a short manga by Junko.
I haven't written in a while, so this is probably a pile of shit. OTL
--
Arthur could hear the man before he ever saw him, could hear the heavy thud of footsteps coming down the hall, rounding the corner and skidding to a halt. He felt his heart beat a little faster in anticipation, but refused to turn his head, pretending he hadn't noticed the ruckus at all, even though the sudden stop had placed him a mere two feet to Arthur's left.
“Arthur, did you see this!?”
He turned his head then, to see what the man was talking about, only to have a flyer abruptly shoved into his face. He scowled, backing up so that he could get a proper look at it, then scoffed outright. The flyer advertised a new bakery and sweet shop that was having its grand opening this weekend, and in an effort to get customers it seemed the owner was offering an afternoon all-you-can eat buffet of their apparently world-famous sweets. Not only that, Arthur noticed, eyes wide, but the price had been cut in half. It was a two for one deal and Arthur scanned the rest of the flyer in an effort to find the catch.
Before he could, however, the flyer was yanked away and Arthur was met with the smiling face of his closest friend: Alfred Jones, the all-American loud mouth and astronomy major of the University of Hetalia. The man was fidgeting with the flyer, cheeks flushed, and swinging his hips back and forth in obvious anticipation, his enthusiasm coming off him in almost palpable waves.
“We have to go,” Alfred said firmly, smile threatening to break his face. “I did all my homework at the Coffee Hub this afternoon so that I'd have the entire day free tomorrow to make this event. I even wrote my essay on the planetary asteroid defense study! It took me four cups of coffee but I got it done!”
Arthur hummed at the coffee comment. That would certainly explain the hyper-active excitement with which Alfred was currently dancing in place, hopping around in an effort to showcase his discovery and perhaps appeal to the giant soft spot Arthur had smack in the middle of his chest for him. He usually functioned on the assumption that Alfred didn't know about it, but he wouldn't be entirely surprised if the smartass had figured it out and had been ruthlessly abusing it for their entire acquaintance. Arthur had known the American for a little under half a year now and although he'd like to think he knew how to handle him, Arthur was well aware that in most cases, he was entirely wrong.
Because, really, Arthur's track record for turning Alfred down was horrendous, all things considered.
“Then by all means,” Arthur said smoothly. “Go.”
“Woo!” Alfred cheered, then pointed his finger at Arthur. “You're coming with me, right?”
For a short moment, Arthur wondered why on earth Alfred would think him the number one candidate to go to a sweets buffet with, because Arthur hated sweets with the same enthusiasm he hated the French (which was a lot, just to be clear). Did Alfred just want to spend the afternoon with him? Was he asking Arthur on a date? Could Arthur - heart in throat, ears heating rapidly, mildy choking on the last inhale he'd managed before Alfred had asked - really be that lucky?
“I knew you'd want to try their tiramisu and that new chocolate cake they have so I ran all the way over here from the science building to catch you!
And then he remembered that Alfred was actually completely unaware that Arthur despised sweets. Normally, Arthur would blame this on the man's tendency towards being completely oblivious to everything around him, because it was a recurring problem and Arthur had no qualms about placing the blame entirely on Alfred's shoulders. The blasted twit usually deserved it anyway. Unfortunately, this one was actually Arthur's fault.
Completely and utterly his fault, to be honest, and it was a tragic, tragic tale.
It had been his third day on campus and Arthur wasn't exactly good at making small talk, or friends. He'd been slightly overwhelmed with his new school, located across an entire ocean and situated somewhere that was entirely too cold for a British gentleman, so he'd stumbled over himself when he'd run into a bright and cheerful American during welcome week. It had been at a cafe in the student union, so full with new students that there was literally no open seats anywhere. Alfred and his friends had been lucky enough to grab a table as a group of three girls left, and that table had just happened to be right next to Arthur's.
Arthur had stared at the mound of sugar that had been masquerading as a pastry on Alfred's plate, wondering how on earth anyone could eat that much dessert at two in the afternoon, until Alfred himself had snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Looks awesome, right?” Alfred had asked, smiling in a friendly way that implied he had absolutely no problems with talking to strangers. Arthur had often wondered if this particular trait had vexed Alfred's mother when he was a child, but that was neither here nor there.
Arthur had blushed and tried to think of the right thing to say, his teacup warm in his hands as he caught a glimpse of the bright blue of Alfred's eyes. “Yes,” he'd managed, trying to be nice. “It looks very good.”
“You like sweets, too?” Alfred had asked, smile genuinely pleased.
Arthur had originally planned on correcting him, telling him not really, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it, and with anyone else on the planet - he was sure - those exact words would've come tumbling out without any prompting or thought. Perhaps he would've even managed to say them with a proper amount of scathing judgement, because, really, no one needed to eat that much sugar in one sitting.
But this man was gorgeous and when he flashed that smile at him, Arthur's brain decided instead to go with, “Yes, very much.” Because, hey - maybe if they had something in common, something Alfred obviously enjoyed a great deal, then he'd have an excuse to keep talking to him. And while Arthur found himself shaking with nervousness, he'd give anything to keep this conversation going for another couple minutes, an hour, the rest of his lifetime - if he could swing it.
“Sweet!” Alfred had said, and dug into his dessert. He'd come back up, mouth full, and added, “Most people think it's a little strange that I like desserts so much, I guess 'cause I'm a dude? But it's totally awesome that you like them too. We should hang out!”
Arthur winced internally at the memory. He'd known it would come back to bite him in the arse, but that little white lie had gained him entry into Alfred's world and his group of friends (as horribly lame as that sounded), and Arthur had spent the next five months patting himself on the back (alternately as a gesture of accomplishment and an attempt at consoling himself for killing his taste buds). Sure, he'd had to smile through more sweets in five months than he had in his entire life, but if it meant that he could stay friends with Alfred, be by his side if only platonically, he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. And he was actually getting pretty good at pretending to like chocolate.
Of course Alfred would think him the perfect person to go with. Kiku would never have time to go with Alfred, even if he wanted to, and Ludwig was entirely too serious to participate in something so flippant. Feliciano wouldn't go if Ludwig didn't, Ivan was entirely too creepy to even ask, despite the fact that he was in almost every one of Alfred's classes, and Arthur would punch Francis in the balls if he so much as thought of saying yes to Alfred's invitation (and the frog knew it, too; the threat of another broken nose had kept him a decent distance away from Alfred's arse for a good three months now).
“Of course,” Arthur said, trying to make his smile look genuine even though he wanted nothing more than to run away.
He felt like he was being torn in two. On one hand the thought of an entire afternoon of pastries and sweet fillings almost made him want to vomit right there on the spot. On the other hand, however, he would love to do something with Alfred that involved just the two of them, had been starved for it for the past two months at least, since he'd discovered he liked the man as more than a friend (well, he'd known that from the start, but the actual pining hadn't started until about three months in, to be clear) and, subsequently, how difficult it was to organize an outing that didn't involve their entire group of friends.
The realization of his feelings had hit Arthur rather like a freight train (again, only like a freight train because Arthur had actually been expecting like, a toy train or something equally as non-threatening to his sanity) and he'd been sort of wobbling in and out of social coherency ever since, attempting subtle overtures one day and then making a complete asshat out of himself the next in a roller coaster ride of hormones and - well, other urges.
His brain couldn't seem to decide on any one course of action, his mouth kept vomiting shit he hadn't even intended on saying, his heart was completely unsure which emotion to stick with, and his body was only too happy to treat everything that happened within ten feet of Alfred as an excuse to get a raging hardon. Most days, Arthur just resigned himself to idiocy.
Alfred was driving him goddamn insane - had been for the past two months - and this whole sweet buffet date that wasn't really a date thing? Not helping.
“Awesome,” Alfred said with a grin. “I'll meet you at the library when you get done with your shift and we can go!”
Alfred waved to him as he ran off in the other direction, too full of energy to stay still for long, and Arthur smiled weakly as he disappeared behind the corner of a building. Arthur let his palm meet his face in a universal sign of utter and exhausting defeat in the face of stupidity, then groaned out loud as he realized that he was definitely enough of a masochist - and possibly completely in love with the stupid twit - that he would suffer through an entire afternoon of sickeningly sweet confectionaries just so that he could sit next to the man.
God, he was fucked.
-
“I'm sorry, sir, but this buffet is for couples only.”
Arthur could have wept. No really, he was this fucking close to just letting tears of happiness stream down his face.
“What!?” Alfred blurted, trying to look around the hostess into the restaurant beyond, eyes wide with longing. “Seriously?”
They'd arrived not two minutes ago, Alfred so excited about the oncoming piles of sugar that he'd literally bounced the entire way here, only to be met by this entirely impassable road block. Alfred had either read the flyer incorrectly (not a surprise), glossed over the parts that didn't concern him (also not a surprise), or just figured he could get in on his good ol' America charm. Arthur had been both a witness to and a victim of this method before, so he could say, without a doubt, that there was a 76% chance that it might actually work.
“I'm afraid so, sir,” the hostess said. “You may return during regular hours and visit our cafe-”
“But we're totally a couple,” Alfred interrupted abruptly, swinging an arm over Arthur's shoulders.
Arthur, for his part, just tried to stay as still as possible and hoped to everything holy that Alfred couldn't actually hear how fast his heart was beating through the parts of Arthur's skin that he was touching, or see how red his face was after that comment. A couple? Oh god, if only, Arthur thought, hands fidgeting at his sides as the hostess eyed Alfred's arm on his shoulders.
Sometimes he wished Alfred weren't so oblivious, and other times, he thanked every god he could that the man didn't notice a goddamn thing.
“Really,” the woman asked, tone indicative of exactly how see-through Alfred's lie really was.
“Yeah, definitely,” Alfred assured her, not noticing that his lie wasn't working at all. “Right, babe?” he asked, turning to plant a quick kiss on Arthur's cheek.
Arthur closed his eyes briefly, giving in to the temptation of fantasy for an elongated second before railing internally against his weakness and Alfred's stupid decision to poke at it mercilessly. Then he opened them again and focused his eyes on the hostess who still, obviously, did not believe them. The woman turned to Alfred with a strained smile and Arthur just tried to keep his blush under control.
“I'm terribly sorry, sir, but this buffet is for traditional couples,” she said.
Arthur's eyes narrowed and Alfred leaned in closer to the woman, arm slipping off Arthur's shoulders entirely. “What do you mean 'traditional'?” Alfred asked slowly.
The woman leaned in as well. “Traditional as in 'not fake.'”
Alfred stared her down for another long moment but when she refused to budge on the issue, he just turned around and walked out the door. Arthur was caught unawares for a couple seconds before he nodded to the woman and took off after Alfred.
“Alfred!” he called, heading down the sidewalk after spotting his friend's figure. “Wait!”
Alfred slowed until Arthur caught up, then started walking again. Arthur, unsure of what to say, went the comforting route. “Sorry you couldn't get your sweets,” he said.
“That's the stupidest reason for refusing customers ever,” Alfred said petulantly.
“Agreed,” Arthur said, gaze drifting to the buildings they were slowly passing. “But there really isn't anything we can do about it.” Unless Alfred suddenly turned into a girl and asked him out. Arthur blushed a bit, because that thought should not make his stomach do a triple backflip. Nope.
Alfred was silent and after a minute of no response, Arthur glanced at his friend.
Alfred shook his head, turned, and smiled at him - and it was the kind of smile that said you may think I'm stupid but I totally have a plan right now that definitely has at least a 50% chance of succeeding and trust me when I say it's gonna be awe~some! and Arthur blanched just a little bit.
Generally speaking, it was a creepy sort of grin that didn't ever bode well for Arthur's well being.
-
Arthur was sat in a chair, staring at the curtain of a dressing room with no small amount of dread on his face. His arms were folded in a vain attempt to ward off the department store employees or any other customer who might take an interest in what was going on. If two young men in the women's section debating whether the pink one or the red one would flatter his figure better hadn't been a big enough tip off, the fact that they'd headed straight to the dressing rooms afterward surely was.
“This is never going to work,” Arthur told the curtain.
There was shuffling beyond it, a grunt, and then, “It totally will, dude, stop being such a pessimist.”
“It's not going to work because you're at least seven centimeters taller than me and broad in a way that all the frill in the universe isn't going to hide,” Arthur argued.
The curtain shifted abruptly and Alfred swore quietly. “Hey now,” he said once he'd recovered. “Don't harsh on my figure, dude. I'm just big boned.”
Arthur scowled even though Alfred couldn't see it. “That's not what I-”
“I was originally gonna make you do it,” Alfred interrupted happily and Arthur blushed at the thought. “But you're eyebrows are way too thick, no one would believe it.”
“Oi,” Arthur grumbled. “They are not that-”
“Ta-da!” Alfred yelled, pulling the curtain aside with a flourish so that Arthur could gaze upon his altered appearance.
The first stop they'd made was the costume shop, where Alfred had bought a wig the same color as his own hair, just longer. It fell about his face in loose waves, bangs sweeping across his forehead in a way that made him look more elegant than Arthur knew him to be. It fell to just above his shoulders, curling nicely about his neck. Their second stop had been the department store and Alfred was currently modeling the outfit they'd chosen not ten minutes earlier.
He wore a pair of tight, black jeans over his original sneakers, stressed in a way that Arthur was sure the makers had meant to be fashionable. These had actually been found in the young men's section, and they hugged Alfred's ass like a glove, making shivers run up Arthur's spine every time Alfred spun around. Over his knew jeans, Alfred wore a shirt that was too short to be a dress, but nonetheless covered him to almost mid-thigh. It was a layered thing, with a sewed on black vest edged in a wavy sort of frill, set on top of a deep maroon, short sleeved affair that tapered off in uneven layers at the bottom. The loose fit of the garment, coupled with the frills, actually did a halfway decent job of hiding Alfred's broad shoulders, and the sweater he wore over it helped to cover up his muscled arms.
Coupled with the wig, Arthur had to admit the man might actually pull it off. The only problem was-
“No boobs,” Arthur said, staring at Alfred's flat chest.
“Tons of girls have flat chests, Arthur,” Alfred said, touching the area almost self-consciously. “Don't be so judgmental.”
Arthur rolled his eyes in an attempt to hide the fact that Alfred's appearance, and the fact that he was putting so much effort into appearing as if they were dating, were making his tummy erupt with butterflies and his cheeks explode with color.
“But seriously,” Alfred said, stepping out of the dressing room entirely. “How do I look?”
Arthur swallowed thickly, letting his gaze rest on Alfred once more. His expression was earnest and a little nervous and Arthur tried a smile. “Try to pitch your voice a little higher and stop saying 'dude' all the time and I think you should be fine,” he mumbled.
“All right!” Alfred cheered, throwing his arms around Arthur's neck. “Let's go get our cake on, dude!”
Arthur was 98% sure the wanker had done that on purpose.
-
“I'm sorry, sir,” the hostess repeated for the second time that day. “But this buffet is for-”
“Couples, right?” Alfred interrupted, voice slightly higher than Arthur was used to hearing. Alfred's arms were woven through one of Arthur's own and he was all but cuddling his shoulder as he smiled charmingly at the hostess. “This is my boyfriend and he's very traditional, if you know what I mean.”
And then he winked. Arthur tried not to die of embarrassment.
The hostess was clearly unimpressed by Alfred's disguise, and his pun, and Arthur feared they had gone through all of that shopping and suffered through all the odd looks as they walked here for nothing. But then she looked skyward as if communing with some higher power, perhaps asking for some more patience to deal with the morons, and shrugged her shoulders as she turned back to them with a forced smile.
“Right this way, then,” she said, turning and leading them both into the cafe.
“Dude, we are so in!” Alfred whispered, tugging him by the arm as he hurried to follow the hostess to their seat.
“Gotta act all couple-y, though,” Alfred added in a whisper as the hostess set out their menus for them. “For today, just act like my totally awesome lovey-dovey boy-toy, okay!?”
Arthur just scowled through his blush and allowed himself to be pulled, wondering why it was so easy for Alfred to affect the attitudes and speech patterns of a dopey girl. Alfred sat down in the booth with a satisfied smile, taking the menu from the hostess and snuggling up to Arthur until she rolled her eyes and walked away. Arthur tried not to let it get to him, but when Alfred erupted into sniggers upon her exit, Arthur cringed and subtly tried to shift away from the soft puffs of breaths near his neck.
“Okay, Arthur, what should we get,” Alfred asked, leaning his head on Arthur's shoulder as he peered at the menu. “Aah~” he cooed. “So many choices! This is gonna be the tastiest day ever.”
The hostess walked by again with another couple, her eyes tracking to them suspiciously, and Arthur said, “I don't know, love, you choose,” to try and sell their act. He felt his cheeks heat when the hostess merely raised her eyebrows and moved on, directing the other couple to a table near the back of the cafe.
“Okay!” Alfred cheered and went off to get what he deemed suitable from the buffet. He came back with nearly half the menu.
Arthur cringed at the thought of eating all that sugar and tried not to let it show on his face when their table was covered with small plates containing cakes and tarts, jellied candies resting atop pastries, brownies and chocolates of all kinds. Alfred wasted no time digging in and Arthur could tell by the look on his face alone that he was enjoying himself immensely. Arthur let a small smile flutter across his expression, because if Alfred was this happy, then all the cross dressing and lying and downright embarrassment was probably worth it. Probably.
“Aren't you gonna eat any?” Alfred asked, swallowing the last bite of his most recent confectionary treat as he turned to regard Arthur.
Arthur blinked at him, caught in his thoughts. “Oh, yes, I suppose...” he trailed off, picking from the pile what seemed to be the most tolerable, a glazed looking croissant that had chocolate drizzled across the top. He sunk his tiny little fork into the pastry and took a bite as Alfred watched, smiling around it as he swallowed.
“How is it?” Alfred asked, excitement in his tone.
“Very good, would you like some?”
“Sure!” Alfred chimed, but just sat there with a big smile on his face. When Arthur raised his eyebrow at him, Alfred sang in a low voice, “Cou~ple~” and pointed to his mouth.
Arthur gave in and cut off another bite, raising his tiny fork to Alfred's mouth and waiting for him to lean forward, wrapping his lips around the treat and leaning back with a delighted look on his face. He hummed in obvious pleasure as he chewed and swallowed, opening his eyes so that he could wink at Arthur.
“My turn,” Alfred hummed, choosing a berry covered cheesecake and cutting off a bite. He turned to Arthur and before he could insist that Alfred enjoy it by himself, the fork was in his mouth and Alfred was making yummy noises at him as he slid the utensil free of Arthur's mouth. Arthur tried his hardest to keep the grimace from his face as the suger hit his tongue, as the cookie crust mingled with the sweet filling. He was grateful when Alfred turned to take his own bite, because he couldn't quite keep himself from sticking his tongue out after he managed to swallow it, bringing his hand up to wipe any excess sugar from his lips.
Arthur turned to see what Alfred had decided to taste next only to find Alfred blinking up at the hostess, who was hovering nearby with judgement written all over her face. Arthur frowned.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Seriously?” the hostess asked. “You're not fooling anyone guys.”
“I beg your pardon,” Arthur started.
“You are obviously not a couple, and what's more-” the hostess began, hand on hip as she chastised them.
Alfred, however, cut her off abruptly. “We are too a couple,” he said, his tone clearly upset. “I'll prove it!”
The hostess looked about as convinced as she had earlier and Arthur was about to try and reason with her further, because honestly, was it really worth all this trouble to deny Alfred his treats - why couldn't she just let it go? - when Alfred huffed behind him and grabbed his face, tugging him away from his staring contest with the hostess. Arthur went, frowning, until he felt his lips hit Alfred's in a kiss, Alfred's fingers splayed across his cheek, thumb resting on his chin as he directed Arthur into dovetailing against him. Arthur was stiff with surprise, but let Alfred lead him awkwardly until he pulled away to glare triumphantly up at the hostess.
“See?” Alfred asked, releasing Arthur's face so that he could put one hand on his hip. “I love him very much and all I want to do is eat some cake with my boyfriend.”
The hostess seemed slightly taken aback by the kiss, as if she honestly hadn't considered the fact that they could've been a couple until just now - which, yeah, they weren't, but still. She coughed a little to hide her embarrassment and said, “Well, I suppose...yes. Enjoy your sweets,” and walked away.
“Finally,” Alfred mumbled, voice dropping back to its normal octave as he shifted in his seat. “Sorry about that, Art, but seriously, I didn't know how else to get her...to...” he trailed off.
Arthur's face was in his hands. He hadn't heard any of the exchange beyond I love him very much and after the kiss, it was just too much for him. He couldn't take it anymore, his blush was officially out of control, his heart refused to settle the fuck down and his breathing had decided to all but give out on him altogether. He couldn't look Alfred in the eye, not after that, because he liked the guy, quite possibly loved the idiot, and was thrown completely out of his rhythm by a mere kiss when Alfred treated it like it was no big deal. He was too embarrassed to do much more than hide his face and pray that Alfred wouldn't notice.
Because he would give himself away if he looked up, he would, he just knew it.
“Arthur? Arthur, what's wrong? Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” Arthur managed to mumble through his hands. He hunched in on himself even more and turned away, only to feel Alfred's hands on his shoulder, turning him back toward him.
“You're not fine,” Alfred argued. “Come on, look at me.”
“No,” Arthur said petulantly, because if he looked at him now, Alfred would see how much that little show had effected him and no matter how dense the man truly was, there was no way he wouldn't put two and two together.
“Arthur,” Alfred repeated, pulling Arthur's hands away from his face forcefully.
“What?” he asked, scowling at the floor.
“Look at me, please?” Alfred asked, and his voice was so concerned and sweet and pleading that Arthur found himself tilting his head up even as his scowl started to turn desperate.
“Nothing to see here,” he grumbled, not meeting Alfred's eye. “Eat some more of your cake and just-”
“Did you...?” Alfred interrupted, trailing off as he bent his head to look at Arthur's face. Arthur's scowl intensified.
“Just cock off,” Arthur growled, going on the defensive.
Alfred frowned at him, tilted his head, and just when Arthur thought that he would have to physically push Alfred's face away from his own - and possibly into a piece of cake if he didn't let up about this - Alfred dipped his head in and kissed him again.
This time it was gentler, longer, and Alfred leaned into him with his whole body as he shifted his lips against Arthur's, opened his mouth just a tiny bit and licked. Arthur was still and unresponsive, his heart pounding a steady, staccato rhythm through his ears as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. Alfred was kissing him. Not just to get cake and sweets, but actually kissing him because...what? Why, exactly? Arthur hardly dared hope.
Alfred pulled away just enough to speak.
“Did you like it, Arthur?” he whispered, low enough that Arthur barely heard him. Alfred pressed his lips to Arthur's again, lingering for a long moment before pulling back. “Do you like...me?”
Yes, Arthur wanted to say, loudly and emphatically and possibly hysterically. He wanted to throw his arms around the stupid git and smother that stupid, loud mouth with kisses until they were both breathless. He wanted to slap him and hug him all at once, slam him into the booth and ravish him, then take that stupid cheesecake and throw it in his face; and all these thoughts flew through his mind in such a chaotic tumble, it was a wonder he could function at all.
But this time, when Alfred's lips met his, when they pressed together as Alfred leaned in, warmth radiating through his new dress, the long locks of his fake hair brushing against Arthur's cheek, Arthur responded. He pressed back as his hand came up to cup Alfred's cheek, heart soaring as he opened his mouth to Alfred's, licked at his front teeth before delving inside, pulling Alfred against him in the booth as he tilted his head to the side to deepen it.
Alfred shifted with him, crawling so that he was leaning over Arthur, almost on his lap entirely as their tongues tangled and their breath mingled, gasping for breath in between kisses and licks. Arthur's fingers slid up and through Alfred's fake hair, careful not to push or pull the wig out of place as he tried to pull him even closer. Alfred'd hands slid toward Arthur's waist, toward the hem of his shirt, and the tips of his fingers met warm skin just as someone very close by cleared their throat.
Loudly. And with purpose.
The two broke apart, Arthur glancing up to find, once again, the hostess standing above them, this time accompanied by what looked to be the manager of the cafe. Alfred's cheeks pinked and Arthur cleared his throat as Alfred shifted off of him and to the side as he tugged down on his shirt, sitting properly in the booth as judgmental stares rained down upon them.
“I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the hostess said.
Normally, Arthur would've put up a fight, because they'd been nothing but horribly judgmental since they'd walked in here and all they'd wanted to do was eat some stupid cake. But considering things had gotten rather heated in their booth and had they not intervened, Arthur may well have forgotten where they were and started shedding clothes, he decided to cut his losses and just do as they asked. Alfred seemed to be of the same mind, but before Arthur could apologize for their behavior, Alfred opened his mouth.
“Okay, but could I get these to go?”
Arthur turned to glare at him.
“What?” Alfred asked.
-
“Oh, god you make me hot,” Alfred whispered, lips pressed firmly against Arthur's throat, tongue darting out to lick a line from adams apple to chin.
There was a bag of cakes and pastries thrown haphazardly on his kitchen table and they'd managed to make it to the couch, where Alfred hovered over him, still dressed as a woman, fake blond locks drifting down to curtain around them.
“You have no idea, seriously,” Alfred murmured, fingers lifting the hem of Arthur's shirt and pulling up, breaking away from skin to tug it up and over his head.
Once freed, Arthur blinked up at him, tense and a little confused. Shirtless and flushed from kissing, Arthur wiggled on instinct, nervous energy making him buck up into the body above him. Alfred reciprocated the motion, mouth still moving as he went for Arthur's neck. Arthur resigned himself to blushing for the rest of the night as his hands came up to push lightly, ineffectually, at Alfred's shoulders. His mind was currently trying valiantly to wrap around the concept that Alfred was humping him so deep into the couch cushions that Arthur might have difficulty getting back out again, and it wasn't quite working. How had they gone from necking in a sweets shop to this?
“We have the same tastes, and we like the same stuff, and you're the cutest thing ever when you blush,” Alfred said, tearing Arthur away from his thoughts. “I can't believe you didn't tell me, Art, when we get along so well already.”
“What?” Arthur asked, slightly confused. Did he mean the sweets thing? Was Alfred's decision to take Arthur home based entirely on the fact that Arthur could successfully fake his way through enjoying a tiramisu? Seriously?
“We're so similar,” Alfred said again, nosing Arthur's neck. “I mean, where it counts at least.”
He had to be kidding.
“And you were so cute when I fed you with that tiny fork,” Alfred went on, the smile clear in his voice. “I wanna kiss you when you got sugar all over your-”
“I don't like sweets,” Arthur blurted, cheeks red and eyes wide. Because it was too much. He couldn't just sit here while Alfred went on and on about how all of Arthur's fake qualities were so amazing, and how they could do this and that just because Arthur loved sweets and really, holy shit. Did Alfred base all of his relationships on confectionaries?! It wouldn't surprise him if he did, but-
Alfred pulled back to frown at him and Arthur covered his face with his hands as he let out a shaky exhale.
“So stop going on and on about how we like the same stuff, because we don't,” Arthur said in a rush. “We don't have anything in common and I'm a horrible person for lying to you.”
“Wha...?” Alfred asked, tilting his head. “Then why did you-”
“Because I liked you!” Arthur said, and he didn't think his cheeks had ever been so red, or that his heart had ever beat so obnoxiously loud, or that his breathing had ever been so unreliably short, or - At any rate, he waited anxiously for Alfred's reaction to his confession and tried not to die in the meantime.
But Alfred just blinked at him for a moment, before leaning in close so that their noses were almost touching. “That's funny,” he said. “And kinda sweet- haha! Get it?”
“What?” Arthur asked, confused. “I don't-”
Alfred cut him off when he pressed his mouth to his, tongue darting out to tangle with Arthur's as he abruptly lost his breath. His hands came up to grip at Alfred's shoulders, pressing back and up, trying to get as much contact with Alfred as possible even as his mind struggled to play catch-up.
“I don't care,” Alfred murmured against Arthur's lips, mumbling and kissing all at once, and Arthur's heart beat hard, twice, before stopping altogether.
“At all,” Alfred continued, and Arthur's heart started up again at a fevered pace. Alfred lowered his hips, sinking down into Arthur's lap as he ground against him and Arthur could feel his erection pressing into his hip, could fell Alfred's want as he tried to press as close as he possibly could.
Arthur broke away from the kiss and pressed his lips to Alfred's cheek before he murmured, “Get rid of this.”
Arthur's hand came up and he gently wedged his fingers between the wig's front and Alfred's forehead, pushing back slowly so as not to catch any of the Alfred's hair in the process. When the wig was halfway back and off, Arthur tugged it free of Alfred's head entirely, tossing it behind him and over the back of the couch before letting his fingers return, carding them through short blonde locks as a grin split his face. Alfred was panting at him, hips still moving in circles as he frowned in Arthur's direction.
“Whas'amatter?” he asked, tongue darting out to lick a path along Arthur's cheek.
“I didn't think it was possible for your hair to be any messier,” Arthur said with a smirk, fingering the random strands of hair that were sticking up in the front, joining the one cowlick that usually graced Alfred's hairdo and making it seem like he had six untamable tufts.
Alfred didn't bother touching his hair, but instead ran his fingers through Arthur's own, tilting Arthur's head to the side with the force of his touch. “You have absolutely no right to tell me that,” Alfred growled, then bent to kiss the underside of Arthur's jaw forcefully.
Arthur let out a low moan at his enthusiasm and said, “Point conceded.”
Arthur let himself tumble to the side, laying on the couch as Alfred crawled over him. Their mouths met again and Alfred's hands ran slowly down Arthur's bare sides until they met the hem of his jeans, tugging idly as their lips dovetailed, the kiss deepening until both had to come up for air, gasping into each other's mouths. Alfred popped the button on Arthur's jeans and Arthur tugged at the bottom of Alfred's shirt in retaliation, yanking the overly long fabric up until Alfred's hands could no longer work at shimming Arthur's jeans down his hips. Alfred abandoned the task and raised his arms, shaking his head as the shirt came up and off, glasses balancing precariously on his nose from getting caught by the neckline. After tugging his arms free, Alfred righted them, winked at Arthur and went to work on his own jeans, unzipping them quickly and pushing them down his hips.
Arthur licked his lips when he noticed Alfred had not bothered to wear pants beneath them and his cock was bared to his sight, flushed and hard. He was about to comment on Alfred going commando, when he noticed the American was struggling.
The jeans had gotten stuck on his thighs. Arthur tilted his head and watched.
Alfred grunted as he twisted, trying to push them down to no avail. He leaned over Arthur, bracing one hand near his shoulder as the other tried pushing them down at a different angle, Alfred's hips wiggling and twitching as he kicked his legs, but the jeans still refused to move much lower than mid-thigh. Arthur was caught between letting his amusement show and enjoying the sight of Alfred's dick moving against Arthur's hip as he bucked and squirmed in an effort to wiggle free.
“Holy hell,” Alfred muttered, leaning to the other side and switching hands, attempting to do one thigh at a time.
“How did you get them on in the first place?” Arthur asked, abandoning the lovely sight of Alfred's bouncing cock to try and aid him in his quest for nakedness.
“I don't know-” Alfred started to say, when Arthur's attempt at helping him get out of his new jeans accidentally tipped him too far and he lost his balance, tipping right off the couch and onto the floor with a loud oomph!
There was a moment of silence, wherein Arthur wondered if that little mishap had ruined his chances at sex entirely, before the sound of wiggling resumed and there was abruptly two jean-clad legs sticking straight up in the air.
“Arthur~” Alfred whined, kicking his feet. “Pull them off for me.”
Arthur sighed with a small smile and sat up, scooting far enough down the couch so that he could get a decent grip on Alfred's legs. He took one leg in hand, fingers closed tightly around the hem of the jeans, and pulled, twisting the jeans back and forth as they slowly began to slide down Alfred's leg. Once one leg was off, Arthur turned to the other, smirking at Alfred as the jeans finally began to come free.
“Do you know how ridiculous this is?” he asked.
Alfred grunted when they were completely off and he was left lying entirely naked on the floor. He let his hand drag down his chest slowly, and Arthur watched as he wrapped his fingers around his own erection and began to stroke, eyes half lidded and staring at Arthur's own. “More ridiculous than the fact that you're just standing there like a doof when I'm completely naked and hard for you?”
“Uhm,” Arthur said.
Alfred spread his legs and let his fingers drift down toward his entrance briefly, and Arthur wondered if this was revenge for lying about the sweets thing. He licked his lips and let his hands drift down to the button of his own jeans, fingering them open and tugging down the zipper even as his eyes stayed glued on Alfred. He shimmied them down his hips, catching his boxers with them, and kicked both off as Alfred continued to put on a show for him. His hands were everywhere on his own body, caressing his hip before dipping down to cradle his balls, fingers trailing back up and around to squeeze the head of his cock. All while his other hand made short, circular passes about his chest, flicking his nipples as his back arched, splaying wide as it slid low enough to catch the edge of his navel.
“Holy shit,” Arthur murmured, and his own hand crept down to grip his cock loosely, the slight friction of skin on skin enough to make his breath hitch. Alfred crooked a finger at him, and Arthur gave his dick one firm stroke before lowering himself to lie above Alfred.
Alfred grabbed him as soon as Arthur came close enough and brought their hips together in sweet, heated friction, thrusting jerkily up into Arthur as their lips met. Arthur tried to keep up with Alfred's frantic pace, tried to catch his tongue as it swept into his mouth, but the kiss turned sloppy and wet as their hips moved together. The heat in Arthur's stomach made it all but impossible to focus on anything but how good it felt to finally be pressed up against Alfred, to feel him hard and wanting beneath him, to hear him panting in his ear as they worked themselves closer and closer to climax.
Alfred pulled away, trailing his lips across Arthur's cheek as he rolled them both, positioning Arthur beneath him as he balanced on one hip. He pulled up to look at Arthur and smirked, the hand not holding him up trailing down Arthur's smooth chest to the coarse hair at the juncture of his hips. He squeezed the base of Arthur's cock gently before letting his fingers linger on the prominent jut of Arthur's hipbones.
“Show me,” Alfred murmured, eyes dark with need.
Arthur was panting, trying to catch his breath as his hips made tiny movements, jerky attempts at persuading Alfred's fingers to drift back to where he really wanted them. “What?” he asked, hand grasping at Alfred's wrist, but putting no real effort into directing it.
“Show me what you like,” Alfred clarified, and Arthur's cheeks bloomed as Alfred dipped his head briefly to swipe his tongue over Arthur's nipple. He let out a long exhale against Arthur's skin and Arthur's back arched in response, hand tugging slightly at Alfred's wrist. Alfred rose back up and smiled at him. “Touch yourself.”
“I,” Arthur started, embarrassed. “I don't-”
Alfred twisted his hand, bringing Arthur's fingers down and wrapping them around his cock before letting go entirely. “Show me,” Alfred murmured, and Arthur swallowed thickly as Alfred's gaze shifted deliberately from Arthur's face to his dick.
Arthur stroked himself, slow at first, terribly embarrassed at having Alfred's attention so focused on his pleasure, and then faster as he found his rhythm, thrusting up into his hand as he twisted on the down stroke. He closed his eyes and let himself go, and his chest tightened as he pressed against that spot, the one right beneath the head of his cock, shivers shooting up and down his spine. He could feel the heat pooling in his stomach starting to overflow as Alfred's hands trailed up and down his thighs, close enough to tease, close enough to set Arthur's nerves alight with want and need.
“Alfred, please,” Arthur panted, opening his eyes to find Alfred's gaze once again on his face.
“Yeah, okay,” Alfred said. “I gotcha, babe.”
Alfred moved up Arthur's body and took his lips in a sloppy kiss, broke free and just panted against the corner of Arthur's mouth as he lined their hips up and pushed Arthur's hand away. He took both their erections in hand, smearing precome and sweat with his long fingers, and started a quick pace that nearly took Arthur's breath away entirely. Arthur arched into it, hands grabbing at the carpet beneath him in an attempt to anchor something, the feel of Alfred's cock, hard and wet and slick against his own, a sensation almost too much to handle. He gave up his quest for a handhold beneath him and latched onto Alfred's hips as he turned his head, biting at the underside of Alfred's jaw.
“I'm-” Arthur gasped, trying to find his breath. “I'm close. So- ah! So close.”
“I know,” Alfred told him, voice ragged, hand tightening has he ground their hips together. “Oh, god- come for me, baby, come for me.”
“Ah- Alfred!” Arthur shouted, voice muffled in Alfred's neck, and he could feel it, the heat and pressure and that blinding sort of breathlessness starting to overcome him, making his back arch and his head tilt back as one last twist of Alfred's hand sent him over the edge. His vision went black for a blissfully long moment and then all he could hear was Alfred's own harsh groan as he pumped them both through orgasm, wringing them dry as their hips thrust against one another.
“Holy shit,” Alfred panted, pushing himself up and dropping his forehead to rest against Arthur's chest. “Holy shit, that was hot,” he finished, giving up and dropping down to drape himself across Arthur.
“You're heavy,” Arthur mumbled, but brought his arms up to wrap around Alfred's waist regardless, pulling him close.
“Must've...” Alfred murmured, trailing off.
“Hmm?” Arthur hummed in question.
“Must've looked pretty hot in that wig, eh?” Alfred asked. “Wasn't wearing it ten minutes before you jumped me.”
Arthur scoffed at the obvious exaggeration and wiggled a bit to get more comfortable. It was pretty plush carpet, but it was still the floor and he hadn't been lying when he'd said Alfred was heavy. “It wasn't the wig.”
“Then what was it?” Alfred asked sleepily.
Arthur pushed at Alfred's side, looking away briefly. “You,” Arthur mumbled, blushing. Alfred snuggled happily into his neck and Arthur cleared his throat a bit. “And possibly those jeans”
Alfred chuckled, and Arthur turned his head so that his own smile was hidden against Alfred's shoulder.
End.
--
Apologies.