Indolence
Title: Indolence
Author: wenchman
Series: Hetalia World Series
Characters: United States, Britain
Pairings: USUK
Rating: M for Sexual Content
Summary: Commission. Prompt was USUK, with a human AU in college. 3000 words.
Word count: 3226
--
The things that Arthur remembers his teachers telling him before he went off to college was that the thing that sucked the most during his studies wouldn't be the work. It wasn't the debt, as that was saved for after college. It wasn't the ridiculous drunk people, the shitty professors, or those first two years that are essentially useless. It's one of those things that nobody cares to think of. That nobody considers. Because it couldn’t seem as bad as all the obvious. Nothing like crappy dorm partners and random inspections. Or those assignments that were due out of seemingly nowhere. None of these things could ever have been a problem for Arthur; he was smart, well organized, and did not procrastinate. He was on top of pretty much everything. It was all work for him, no play, so the college life would only be a level up in difficulty as far as his world went.
Arthur didn't particularly care about what his teachers had to say about what would be difficult. For Arthur, nothing was particularly difficult. He was intelligent and sophisticated, so going to a state university would be simple. After all, it was the graduate school that mattered. Arthur always had a plan, and knew exactly when he'd do things. When he entered his useless speech class, he knew what was due, what was to be discussed, and what he'd have to read next. He would have read ahead, had he not been so drawn into his Shakespeare essay. He sat gently in his seat, and put his messenger bag upright. With the opening facing him, he pulled his laptop from the bag, with the laptop's hinge away from him. He opened it, and turned it on. He was five minutes early to class.; later than he usually was, but it was better than being on-time. He bit at his cheek in slight agitation, not particularly satisfied, but not too frustrated, either.
The professor entered at the usual time-3:46, one minute late as he always was. Today, though, he looked a bit smug, Arthur noted it, but thought nothing of it. The lecture continued, and Arthur subconsciously took down notes,. The words came one after another, and Arthur didn't miss one bit of information.
Especially the part when the professor announced that a partner project was due in two weeks.
A hint of panic rushed down Arthur's spine in the form of a chill. Arthur was not good with partners at all. He hated working with someone less intelligent than himself, and that's what usually happened. He would get people below-par, and they would be so amazed-as they would feign-at his ideas and intelligence, that he'd be thrusted to do all the work for them. Arthur scowled in great dissatisfaction. Not only would he have to deal with someone unpleasantly dumb, but he'd have to fix his schedule just to accommodate them, because most imbeciles he worked with refused to offer him the same kind of compromise.
Arthur’s scowl quickly turned into a snarl when he was paired with Alfred.
Alfred Jones, a party-goer sliding along with a 3-point mean, settled for average in class, and only put in effort when it came to deciding which house party to attend next. He was the most despicable kind of person. He was unpredictable, loud, and lazy. He would sometimes have assignments in with varying efforts-it was a wonder how he hadn't failed yet. Arthur glanced at him while Alfred peered around the classroom; it seemed he had no idea Arthur existed. Arthur groaned in aggravation and gathered his things. He approached Alfred, who looked confused yet surprised when Arthur’s existence was made aware to him.
“No need for the greetings-you already know who I am, now,” Arthur avoided introductions. “Unfortunately, I don't have paper or a printer on me, so I can't print you my schedule for your reference-which you likely wouldn't use anyway.”
Alfred's face contorted into a sort of offended bewilderment, but Arthur continued.
“Care to write out your schedule for me?” He finished.
Alfred obliged, tearing a paper from is notebook. The tear made a curve, the soft fuzz of the edge ending at halfway to the bottom of the page. Arthur raised his eyebrow and gritted his teeth as he neatly wrote out his schedule. After he finished, he folded the paper a few times before tearing slowly at the crease, splitting the paper perfectly into two. He handed Alfred the paper.
“Care to give me yours?” He asked, not expecting too much.
“Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays are a no. I’m busy then, I have Monday and Wednesday classes, too,” he answered, staring off into space with his arms folded and eyebrows furrows. Arthur's bad attitude appeared to be rubbing off onto him.
“What about tomorrow, since it's a Thursday, we can start then, yes?” Arthur inquired. This was quite convenient! Perhaps this could work out, as vapid as Alfred seemed.
Alfred chuckled somewhat arrogantly and shook his head. “Sorry, I'm busy tonight and well... Gotta recover from that hangover tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday.”
Of course, a maybe. Arthur pushed his tongue against his cheek and glowered at Alfred. It appeared that this project was going to be more difficult than he imagined.
////
It had been one week since the project was assigned, and just as Arthur thought, he ended up doing most of the work. Much of the time Alfred was there, he was complaining he was bored, and criticizing the lack of alcohol or gaming systems Arthur had. Although him showing up at all was a good sign, he was simply a distraction. Arthur felt like he had made no progress. So on this day in particular, since now there was only a week left until the due date and it was nowhere near finished, Arthur was in an especially acerbic mood. He was typing feverishly at his laptop, much of it being the delete button and the cut control. Arthur sighed heavily and glanced back at Alfred, who seemed to be making a great effort to send a text to his friend as he say lazily on the edge of Arthur’s bed.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Arthur snapped.
Alfred looked up casually, raising his eyebrow. “What does it look like?” he held up his phone, displaying the bright and blurry contents, then putting his face right back into them.
“Why don't you come over here and help me?”
“I would if you let me.”
“I have been waiting for a God-damned week, you indolent fool!”
Arthur watched in slight anxiousness as Alfred's gaze shot up from his phone and pointed at Arthur. He blinked a few times, then much to Arthur’s surprise, only widened his eyes and tipped his head to the side in curiosity.
“What was that word?” he asked.
“Indolent?” Arthur raised his eyebrow. “Have you not heard that word? It describes you perfectly.”
Alfred shook his head. “No, what does it mean?”
“Lazy,” Arthur answered, sneering slightly.
Alfred stood up, chuckling. “Yeah, that is me, isn't it?” He approached Arthur, and placed his hand on the back of Arthur’s chair. He grinned when Arthur groaned as Alfred put all his weight onto that hand.
“What other big words are we using on the project?”
Arthur’s upper lip curled slightly as he became increasingly irritated. He never considered his vocabulary to be particularly advanced. Was Alfred really that much of an idiot?
“Iconoclasm is a word we're using, as well as heinous and exculpation,” Arthur enlightened Alfred as he turned his head back to the laptop, becoming bored.
Alfred beamed at Arthur. “Are we?” he asked. “That's pretty badass! What other neat words do you know?”
Arthur sighed in exasperation. “I’m not particularly interested in sitting here and being your personal thesaurus, Alfred.”
Alfred whined in disappointment. “C'mon, man! I don't want to sound like a dumbass next to you!”
Arthur rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache sprouting. “Alright, alright,” he agreed,” but sit down here and help me so we can use words in the correct context.”
Alfred triumphantly raised his fist in the air, greatly excited by this opportunity. He grabbed the roommate's chair, swinging it over to him so he could sit beside Arthur. “So, what are we discussing again?”
“How iconoclasm has the potential to heavily influence religious practices.” Arthur answered, monotone to hide his frustration.
“So what does iconoclasm mean?”
“The destroying of religious images containing figures and personages,” Arthur replied, still refusing to give Alfred eye contact.
Alfred cocked his head to the side. “Why is that so important?” He inquired almost rebelliously, folding his arms and leaning back into his chair. “Wouldn't we just not know what Jesus looked like, or something?”
Arthur suddenly acknowledged Alfred, snapping his head around to look at him with wide eyes. This man wasn't so stupid after all! If no one knew what Christ looked like, art would never have been like it was in the Romanesque and Gothic ages; certainly not the Renaissance, as churches were large patrons. Art history would be changed completely.
“Alfred, I never thought I’d say this, in fact the possibility never even dawned on me, but you're a genius.”
Alfred leaned forward, a small smirk plastered onto his face. “Yeah? Am I?”
////
Arthur decided that a brown sweater-vest over a dark green shirt, tucked into his tight black slacks was the most appropriate thing to wear out. He swiftly dusted his chest with his hands, smirking in haughty satisfaction. It wasn't very often he went out, but he figured since Alfred was not intolerable, he wouldn't mind obliging to his offers to spend more time than necessary. He was certain that his dress was going to be out-of-place, but he didn't want to appear like a degenerate slob, even it if was just a bar he was going to. It was likely going to be full of drunk college students, so Arthur wanted to leave a good impression to the owners, even if they never saw him again.
After that night, he really hoped they weren't going to.
Alfred bought Arthur drink, after drink, after drink, and so on, and although Arthur was cautious at first, eventually the amount of alcohol made him forget to contain himself. He flopped back and forth between giggly, angry and weepy. And at that moment, when he could barely hold a thought back, he was angry. Mumbling, disheveled, with an untucked shirt and violently tousled hair, he slurred and sputtered words out in front of him.
Alfred, who was just as inebriated, if not more, hung an arm over Arthur's neck. He grinned blissfully, and set his lips close to Arthur's ear.
“What the hell do you think you're doing, you twit?” Arthur exclaimed in a blob of words.
Alfred tittered and breathed in an exaggerated, heavy gasp before speaking. “I have something that'll make you feel better,” he chimed.
“Oh? Like what?”
Alfred chuckled, then allowed a moment of tense silence before sharing his suggestion. “I think you need to get laid-”
“Get what?!” Arthur reeled his head back, shoving Alfred off of him.
Alfred brought his pointer to his mouth, and shushed Arthur while he grinned. “You need a good. Fuck. Come with me.”
Alfred grabbed Arthur's arm, and as the two hobbled back to the dorms, which were suddenly quite far away, Arthur shifted between muttering and shouting while Alfred tittered.
Arthur's room seemd like a good idea. None of Alfred's friends knew where it was. They couldn't see him or find him. Their footsteps, though, with the combination of Arthur's loud voice was enough to reveal them. Arthur fumbled with the keys for a moment, shouting in success when he finally got the door open. Luckily, the dorm leaders weren't on the floor at that time, but Alfred hushed Arthur anyway, cautiously closing the door behind him as quietly as a drunken fop could.
“Alright, what the hell is your stupid fucking plan?” Arthur questioned, words wobbling into one another. He stumbled onto his bed, half sitting and half laying, too uncoordinated to really care to change his position.
“I wanna give you a good fuck,” Alfred let the words free so casually.
Athur's face lit up red. His mind spun and he wasn't really sure why Alfred was offering this. He thought for a moment, looking up at Alfred, who was peeling off his shirt. He was rather adorable, Arthur supposed. He had broad shoulders, a decently sculpted body, like the daVinci kind. He had confidence in those blue eyes and an assertive demeanor.
“Why the hell not?” Arthur blurted, “I'm not getting it from anyone else.”
The two quickly undressed, Arthur somewhat reluctant due to inexperience. Alfred hopped onto the bed, not taking a moment of hesitation to initiate a kiss. Arthur moaned in surprise-it was disgusting, really. The kiss, that is. Their tongues pushing against each other, mixing and swirling their saliva all over each other. Despite this, Arthur couldn't help but become aroused, and he had begun to hide it. He began to buck his hips lustily, instinctively against Alfred, shamelessly groping the other man's body and admiring his strong, youthful features.
Suddenly, Arthur was overcome with an unusual urge. “Let me touch your dick, he demanded, shoving against Alfred with an unexpected amount of force. Alfred sat up, somewhat surprised, but also pleased. Arthur began stroking Alfred's cock, hands wrapped carefully around it. He started off mostly rough and without aim, but began to go smoother when Alfred snapped at him a few times. Arthur was becoming increasingly aroused as he watched Alfred's expressions shift from arrogant to submissive, and back around again. Arthur became a little too fascinated, in fact, and began working more boldly, switching speeds and pressure in his grip. He explored a little lower than the hilt, gently squeezing Alfred's balls or running his fingers lightly at the area underneath. Arthur found himself suddenly full of intense, aching desire, and stopped to correspond his overwhelmed state.
“Can you fuck me yet?”
Alfred glanced at Arthur's groin, then looked back up with a hitched eyebrow. “Not until you get it up,” he answered.
“Get it-what?”
“Show me you're enjoying it and get hard, first.”
Arthur looked in horror at his dick, then flushed when he realized he only had a semi. “no, no,” he insisted desperately, moving his focus to Alfred, “I'm really turned on, but my dick won't work.” Arthur laid back onto the bed and spread his legs. “Go on,” he demanded.
Alfred laughed, and fumbled to get a condom on. He clumsily poured lubricant on himself, then on his hands, then spilling it mindlessly onto the bed as he brought the bottle over to put it on Arthur's hole.
“Just don't shit on me,” Alfred joked, the words tumbling out in amusement. He cautiously forced one finger inside Arthur's entrance, but stopped when Arthur winced in pain.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Alfred asked once more.
“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur urged, “Just get on with it.”
Arthur honestly couldn't remember too much from that point, except a searing pain and Alfred apologizing several times for falling out. As much as Arthur wished he could remember, he could only recall that Alfred kept moaning things that further excited Arthur until he felt and intense, dizzying satisfaction that warmed his body and sent him shaking. He didn't suppose he would ever remember more-he was likely too drunk or tired, as he passed out into slumber almost as soon as Alfred had finished his deed.
////
The two men peered at each other.
“Do not say a damned word,” Arthur seethed.
“No, no, I don't want anyone thinking...” Alfred trailed off, looking at the wall. “I suppose I should get out of your bed and go to my own dorm.”
Arthur sighed. It was 10:38, and he had been late for a morning class, now. He glared at Alfred, who's hair was tangled and his eyes shadowed by darkness.
“If it's alright with you, since you missed Physics anyway, do you mind if we work on our project?”
Arthur raised his eyebrow at Alfred is disbelief. Was Alfred actually wanting to be productive? For once, Arthur felt like the lazy one. He felt like shit, and just wanted to sleep.
“I just figured since it's due in four days, you'd want to finish it now,” Alfred continued nervously.
Arthur grinned haughtily, but quickly changed to a stern tone. He coughed before saying that of course he wanted to, and there was no possibility that he would ever want to lay around. So he got up and loaded the file.
As Arthur then ran to the restroom, feeling sick in multiple places, Alfred grabbed the roommate's chair. He began typing the rest of the speech himself, having to ask Arthur for a word only every other sentence.
////
Arthur couldn't have been more happy with the speech. It sounded good, it was on time, and he didn't have to do all the work after all. He was so proud to see Alfred speak so eloquently, even prouder when he watched the dumbfounded looks on his friends' faces. He expected a good grade, and for once, he was okay with sharing it and the credit for it.
Although, he was mildly perturbed that Alfred was following him back to his dorm, now. “What the hell are you doing?” Arthur asked, without the same degree of usual harshness in his tone. “We're done with the project you know.”
“Yeah, of course!” Alfred exclaimed. He grinned his usual cheeky grin, and continued, “But I wanted to hang out with you, if that's alright?”
Arthur stopped in his tracks, and turned to face Alfred. “What do you mean, why?!”
Alfred stopped walking as well, then placed a single hand against the back of his own neck. “Well, you know... you're a pretty cool guy.”
“I suppose you're decent yourself, for someone who's a massive twit.” Arthur folded his arms, face painted with pink. He wasn't sure how to respond to such friendliness.
Alfred bursted into laughter. This took Arthur aback-most people became offended at that point.
“Am I?” Alfred asked. “That's great!” He leaned in, grinning somewhat deviously, yet innocently. “Because going on a proper date with you would be hard if you didn't think so highly of me.”
Arthur stepped back. “A what?!” He questioned loudly, before Alfred shushed him. “What do you mean a date?” He whispered, quivering with nervousness.
“I mean a date. Where I can get to know you without getting wasted.”
Arthur sighed, considering it for a moment. He hadn't known Alfred for very long, but he was rather attractive-not that he'd ever say so.
“I suppose, but don't get the idea that I'm head-over-heels for you or anything.”
--
Author: wenchman
Series: Hetalia World Series
Characters: United States, Britain
Pairings: USUK
Rating: M for Sexual Content
Summary: Commission. Prompt was USUK, with a human AU in college. 3000 words.
Word count: 3226
--
The things that Arthur remembers his teachers telling him before he went off to college was that the thing that sucked the most during his studies wouldn't be the work. It wasn't the debt, as that was saved for after college. It wasn't the ridiculous drunk people, the shitty professors, or those first two years that are essentially useless. It's one of those things that nobody cares to think of. That nobody considers. Because it couldn’t seem as bad as all the obvious. Nothing like crappy dorm partners and random inspections. Or those assignments that were due out of seemingly nowhere. None of these things could ever have been a problem for Arthur; he was smart, well organized, and did not procrastinate. He was on top of pretty much everything. It was all work for him, no play, so the college life would only be a level up in difficulty as far as his world went.
Arthur didn't particularly care about what his teachers had to say about what would be difficult. For Arthur, nothing was particularly difficult. He was intelligent and sophisticated, so going to a state university would be simple. After all, it was the graduate school that mattered. Arthur always had a plan, and knew exactly when he'd do things. When he entered his useless speech class, he knew what was due, what was to be discussed, and what he'd have to read next. He would have read ahead, had he not been so drawn into his Shakespeare essay. He sat gently in his seat, and put his messenger bag upright. With the opening facing him, he pulled his laptop from the bag, with the laptop's hinge away from him. He opened it, and turned it on. He was five minutes early to class.; later than he usually was, but it was better than being on-time. He bit at his cheek in slight agitation, not particularly satisfied, but not too frustrated, either.
The professor entered at the usual time-3:46, one minute late as he always was. Today, though, he looked a bit smug, Arthur noted it, but thought nothing of it. The lecture continued, and Arthur subconsciously took down notes,. The words came one after another, and Arthur didn't miss one bit of information.
Especially the part when the professor announced that a partner project was due in two weeks.
A hint of panic rushed down Arthur's spine in the form of a chill. Arthur was not good with partners at all. He hated working with someone less intelligent than himself, and that's what usually happened. He would get people below-par, and they would be so amazed-as they would feign-at his ideas and intelligence, that he'd be thrusted to do all the work for them. Arthur scowled in great dissatisfaction. Not only would he have to deal with someone unpleasantly dumb, but he'd have to fix his schedule just to accommodate them, because most imbeciles he worked with refused to offer him the same kind of compromise.
Arthur’s scowl quickly turned into a snarl when he was paired with Alfred.
Alfred Jones, a party-goer sliding along with a 3-point mean, settled for average in class, and only put in effort when it came to deciding which house party to attend next. He was the most despicable kind of person. He was unpredictable, loud, and lazy. He would sometimes have assignments in with varying efforts-it was a wonder how he hadn't failed yet. Arthur glanced at him while Alfred peered around the classroom; it seemed he had no idea Arthur existed. Arthur groaned in aggravation and gathered his things. He approached Alfred, who looked confused yet surprised when Arthur’s existence was made aware to him.
“No need for the greetings-you already know who I am, now,” Arthur avoided introductions. “Unfortunately, I don't have paper or a printer on me, so I can't print you my schedule for your reference-which you likely wouldn't use anyway.”
Alfred's face contorted into a sort of offended bewilderment, but Arthur continued.
“Care to write out your schedule for me?” He finished.
Alfred obliged, tearing a paper from is notebook. The tear made a curve, the soft fuzz of the edge ending at halfway to the bottom of the page. Arthur raised his eyebrow and gritted his teeth as he neatly wrote out his schedule. After he finished, he folded the paper a few times before tearing slowly at the crease, splitting the paper perfectly into two. He handed Alfred the paper.
“Care to give me yours?” He asked, not expecting too much.
“Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays are a no. I’m busy then, I have Monday and Wednesday classes, too,” he answered, staring off into space with his arms folded and eyebrows furrows. Arthur's bad attitude appeared to be rubbing off onto him.
“What about tomorrow, since it's a Thursday, we can start then, yes?” Arthur inquired. This was quite convenient! Perhaps this could work out, as vapid as Alfred seemed.
Alfred chuckled somewhat arrogantly and shook his head. “Sorry, I'm busy tonight and well... Gotta recover from that hangover tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday.”
Of course, a maybe. Arthur pushed his tongue against his cheek and glowered at Alfred. It appeared that this project was going to be more difficult than he imagined.
////
It had been one week since the project was assigned, and just as Arthur thought, he ended up doing most of the work. Much of the time Alfred was there, he was complaining he was bored, and criticizing the lack of alcohol or gaming systems Arthur had. Although him showing up at all was a good sign, he was simply a distraction. Arthur felt like he had made no progress. So on this day in particular, since now there was only a week left until the due date and it was nowhere near finished, Arthur was in an especially acerbic mood. He was typing feverishly at his laptop, much of it being the delete button and the cut control. Arthur sighed heavily and glanced back at Alfred, who seemed to be making a great effort to send a text to his friend as he say lazily on the edge of Arthur’s bed.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Arthur snapped.
Alfred looked up casually, raising his eyebrow. “What does it look like?” he held up his phone, displaying the bright and blurry contents, then putting his face right back into them.
“Why don't you come over here and help me?”
“I would if you let me.”
“I have been waiting for a God-damned week, you indolent fool!”
Arthur watched in slight anxiousness as Alfred's gaze shot up from his phone and pointed at Arthur. He blinked a few times, then much to Arthur’s surprise, only widened his eyes and tipped his head to the side in curiosity.
“What was that word?” he asked.
“Indolent?” Arthur raised his eyebrow. “Have you not heard that word? It describes you perfectly.”
Alfred shook his head. “No, what does it mean?”
“Lazy,” Arthur answered, sneering slightly.
Alfred stood up, chuckling. “Yeah, that is me, isn't it?” He approached Arthur, and placed his hand on the back of Arthur’s chair. He grinned when Arthur groaned as Alfred put all his weight onto that hand.
“What other big words are we using on the project?”
Arthur’s upper lip curled slightly as he became increasingly irritated. He never considered his vocabulary to be particularly advanced. Was Alfred really that much of an idiot?
“Iconoclasm is a word we're using, as well as heinous and exculpation,” Arthur enlightened Alfred as he turned his head back to the laptop, becoming bored.
Alfred beamed at Arthur. “Are we?” he asked. “That's pretty badass! What other neat words do you know?”
Arthur sighed in exasperation. “I’m not particularly interested in sitting here and being your personal thesaurus, Alfred.”
Alfred whined in disappointment. “C'mon, man! I don't want to sound like a dumbass next to you!”
Arthur rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache sprouting. “Alright, alright,” he agreed,” but sit down here and help me so we can use words in the correct context.”
Alfred triumphantly raised his fist in the air, greatly excited by this opportunity. He grabbed the roommate's chair, swinging it over to him so he could sit beside Arthur. “So, what are we discussing again?”
“How iconoclasm has the potential to heavily influence religious practices.” Arthur answered, monotone to hide his frustration.
“So what does iconoclasm mean?”
“The destroying of religious images containing figures and personages,” Arthur replied, still refusing to give Alfred eye contact.
Alfred cocked his head to the side. “Why is that so important?” He inquired almost rebelliously, folding his arms and leaning back into his chair. “Wouldn't we just not know what Jesus looked like, or something?”
Arthur suddenly acknowledged Alfred, snapping his head around to look at him with wide eyes. This man wasn't so stupid after all! If no one knew what Christ looked like, art would never have been like it was in the Romanesque and Gothic ages; certainly not the Renaissance, as churches were large patrons. Art history would be changed completely.
“Alfred, I never thought I’d say this, in fact the possibility never even dawned on me, but you're a genius.”
Alfred leaned forward, a small smirk plastered onto his face. “Yeah? Am I?”
////
Arthur decided that a brown sweater-vest over a dark green shirt, tucked into his tight black slacks was the most appropriate thing to wear out. He swiftly dusted his chest with his hands, smirking in haughty satisfaction. It wasn't very often he went out, but he figured since Alfred was not intolerable, he wouldn't mind obliging to his offers to spend more time than necessary. He was certain that his dress was going to be out-of-place, but he didn't want to appear like a degenerate slob, even it if was just a bar he was going to. It was likely going to be full of drunk college students, so Arthur wanted to leave a good impression to the owners, even if they never saw him again.
After that night, he really hoped they weren't going to.
Alfred bought Arthur drink, after drink, after drink, and so on, and although Arthur was cautious at first, eventually the amount of alcohol made him forget to contain himself. He flopped back and forth between giggly, angry and weepy. And at that moment, when he could barely hold a thought back, he was angry. Mumbling, disheveled, with an untucked shirt and violently tousled hair, he slurred and sputtered words out in front of him.
Alfred, who was just as inebriated, if not more, hung an arm over Arthur's neck. He grinned blissfully, and set his lips close to Arthur's ear.
“What the hell do you think you're doing, you twit?” Arthur exclaimed in a blob of words.
Alfred tittered and breathed in an exaggerated, heavy gasp before speaking. “I have something that'll make you feel better,” he chimed.
“Oh? Like what?”
Alfred chuckled, then allowed a moment of tense silence before sharing his suggestion. “I think you need to get laid-”
“Get what?!” Arthur reeled his head back, shoving Alfred off of him.
Alfred brought his pointer to his mouth, and shushed Arthur while he grinned. “You need a good. Fuck. Come with me.”
Alfred grabbed Arthur's arm, and as the two hobbled back to the dorms, which were suddenly quite far away, Arthur shifted between muttering and shouting while Alfred tittered.
Arthur's room seemd like a good idea. None of Alfred's friends knew where it was. They couldn't see him or find him. Their footsteps, though, with the combination of Arthur's loud voice was enough to reveal them. Arthur fumbled with the keys for a moment, shouting in success when he finally got the door open. Luckily, the dorm leaders weren't on the floor at that time, but Alfred hushed Arthur anyway, cautiously closing the door behind him as quietly as a drunken fop could.
“Alright, what the hell is your stupid fucking plan?” Arthur questioned, words wobbling into one another. He stumbled onto his bed, half sitting and half laying, too uncoordinated to really care to change his position.
“I wanna give you a good fuck,” Alfred let the words free so casually.
Athur's face lit up red. His mind spun and he wasn't really sure why Alfred was offering this. He thought for a moment, looking up at Alfred, who was peeling off his shirt. He was rather adorable, Arthur supposed. He had broad shoulders, a decently sculpted body, like the daVinci kind. He had confidence in those blue eyes and an assertive demeanor.
“Why the hell not?” Arthur blurted, “I'm not getting it from anyone else.”
The two quickly undressed, Arthur somewhat reluctant due to inexperience. Alfred hopped onto the bed, not taking a moment of hesitation to initiate a kiss. Arthur moaned in surprise-it was disgusting, really. The kiss, that is. Their tongues pushing against each other, mixing and swirling their saliva all over each other. Despite this, Arthur couldn't help but become aroused, and he had begun to hide it. He began to buck his hips lustily, instinctively against Alfred, shamelessly groping the other man's body and admiring his strong, youthful features.
Suddenly, Arthur was overcome with an unusual urge. “Let me touch your dick, he demanded, shoving against Alfred with an unexpected amount of force. Alfred sat up, somewhat surprised, but also pleased. Arthur began stroking Alfred's cock, hands wrapped carefully around it. He started off mostly rough and without aim, but began to go smoother when Alfred snapped at him a few times. Arthur was becoming increasingly aroused as he watched Alfred's expressions shift from arrogant to submissive, and back around again. Arthur became a little too fascinated, in fact, and began working more boldly, switching speeds and pressure in his grip. He explored a little lower than the hilt, gently squeezing Alfred's balls or running his fingers lightly at the area underneath. Arthur found himself suddenly full of intense, aching desire, and stopped to correspond his overwhelmed state.
“Can you fuck me yet?”
Alfred glanced at Arthur's groin, then looked back up with a hitched eyebrow. “Not until you get it up,” he answered.
“Get it-what?”
“Show me you're enjoying it and get hard, first.”
Arthur looked in horror at his dick, then flushed when he realized he only had a semi. “no, no,” he insisted desperately, moving his focus to Alfred, “I'm really turned on, but my dick won't work.” Arthur laid back onto the bed and spread his legs. “Go on,” he demanded.
Alfred laughed, and fumbled to get a condom on. He clumsily poured lubricant on himself, then on his hands, then spilling it mindlessly onto the bed as he brought the bottle over to put it on Arthur's hole.
“Just don't shit on me,” Alfred joked, the words tumbling out in amusement. He cautiously forced one finger inside Arthur's entrance, but stopped when Arthur winced in pain.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Alfred asked once more.
“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur urged, “Just get on with it.”
Arthur honestly couldn't remember too much from that point, except a searing pain and Alfred apologizing several times for falling out. As much as Arthur wished he could remember, he could only recall that Alfred kept moaning things that further excited Arthur until he felt and intense, dizzying satisfaction that warmed his body and sent him shaking. He didn't suppose he would ever remember more-he was likely too drunk or tired, as he passed out into slumber almost as soon as Alfred had finished his deed.
////
The two men peered at each other.
“Do not say a damned word,” Arthur seethed.
“No, no, I don't want anyone thinking...” Alfred trailed off, looking at the wall. “I suppose I should get out of your bed and go to my own dorm.”
Arthur sighed. It was 10:38, and he had been late for a morning class, now. He glared at Alfred, who's hair was tangled and his eyes shadowed by darkness.
“If it's alright with you, since you missed Physics anyway, do you mind if we work on our project?”
Arthur raised his eyebrow at Alfred is disbelief. Was Alfred actually wanting to be productive? For once, Arthur felt like the lazy one. He felt like shit, and just wanted to sleep.
“I just figured since it's due in four days, you'd want to finish it now,” Alfred continued nervously.
Arthur grinned haughtily, but quickly changed to a stern tone. He coughed before saying that of course he wanted to, and there was no possibility that he would ever want to lay around. So he got up and loaded the file.
As Arthur then ran to the restroom, feeling sick in multiple places, Alfred grabbed the roommate's chair. He began typing the rest of the speech himself, having to ask Arthur for a word only every other sentence.
////
Arthur couldn't have been more happy with the speech. It sounded good, it was on time, and he didn't have to do all the work after all. He was so proud to see Alfred speak so eloquently, even prouder when he watched the dumbfounded looks on his friends' faces. He expected a good grade, and for once, he was okay with sharing it and the credit for it.
Although, he was mildly perturbed that Alfred was following him back to his dorm, now. “What the hell are you doing?” Arthur asked, without the same degree of usual harshness in his tone. “We're done with the project you know.”
“Yeah, of course!” Alfred exclaimed. He grinned his usual cheeky grin, and continued, “But I wanted to hang out with you, if that's alright?”
Arthur stopped in his tracks, and turned to face Alfred. “What do you mean, why?!”
Alfred stopped walking as well, then placed a single hand against the back of his own neck. “Well, you know... you're a pretty cool guy.”
“I suppose you're decent yourself, for someone who's a massive twit.” Arthur folded his arms, face painted with pink. He wasn't sure how to respond to such friendliness.
Alfred bursted into laughter. This took Arthur aback-most people became offended at that point.
“Am I?” Alfred asked. “That's great!” He leaned in, grinning somewhat deviously, yet innocently. “Because going on a proper date with you would be hard if you didn't think so highly of me.”
Arthur stepped back. “A what?!” He questioned loudly, before Alfred shushed him. “What do you mean a date?” He whispered, quivering with nervousness.
“I mean a date. Where I can get to know you without getting wasted.”
Arthur sighed, considering it for a moment. He hadn't known Alfred for very long, but he was rather attractive-not that he'd ever say so.
“I suppose, but don't get the idea that I'm head-over-heels for you or anything.”
--