Title: Think of Me
Prompt: Day 12 - 'I'll Make a Man Out of You'
Word Count: 2341
Rating/Warnings: R. SEXY-TIMES.
Summary: Alfred is too paranoid to have sex. Arthur is horny and insecure.
Notes: I'm attempting to write a one-shot for each day that eventually connects up into an entire story. Because it was too difficult to make it in order according to prompts, the stories will be out of chronological order ;u;
I'm sorry if this isn't up to my usual standard or anything--stuff happened and I'm trying to distract myself by writing smut QuQ Still, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at writing a smut story ;u;
Hike | How to Make Friends | The Fight | Crush | Lights | Coffee | Date | Explanations | Talk | Those Three Words | Make You Better | Marigolds | Think of Me | Promises
Ever since Alfred’s foray into the spiritual side of the world, he’d become increasingly paranoid. He refused to go to the toilet in the middle of the night, and had to be convinced that no one and nothing was watching him before agreeing to shower. He clung to Arthur whenever possible, and worst of all…
He simply refused to have sex.
For Arthur, who was used to being showered with physical affection at least a couple of times a week, going for a substantial amount of time without any sex from Alfred was both worrying and frustrating. He’d tried hinting, he’d tried seducing—hell, he’d even tried bluntly propositioning Alfred but nothing had worked. Arthur was seriously beginning to worry that Alfred would never touch him in that way again.
Though he knew the reason why Alfred was so hesitant to make a move on him, Arthur couldn’t help but worry that there were other reasons, too.
“I just don’t want them watching us,” Alfred had tried to explain one night. “It’s really creepy, knowing that they’re standing there watching us even though I can’t see them.” Arthur had believed the explanation, but when Alfred’s excuses began to change, he began to wonder.
“Sorry, babe. I’m really tired tonight.”
“I’ve got heaps of work to do. Maybe another time, sweetheart.”
He knew that it was a bad idea to assume the worst. Alfred had been nothing but kind and loving towards him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to trust in the man fully. No matter what Alfred said, he knew that the American could do much better than being with Arthur. The worry began to fester into guilt, which in turn began to pile up in his stomach, making it hard to eat or sleep or do anything much at all.
The situation also seemed to be having a detrimental effect on Alfred. He was grumpier than usual, sometimes snapping at Arthur in the morning before he’d had his coffee. The sexual frustration that he was experiencing was obvious enough, yet he still refused sex.
Arthur didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared of what could happen if they didn’t fix things. He didn’t want to lose Alfred. There had to be something that he could do to seduce Alfred.
He picked up some roses on the way home one afternoon, knowing that Alfred had a lab class and wouldn’t be home until later. He set them up strategically in the bedroom, doing his best to make the atmosphere seem as romantic as possible. Although he wanted to cook a nice dinner, Arthur knew that he would probably burn the whole building down, and besides, if everything went to plan then they wouldn’t have time to eat, anyway.
“I need you ladies to clear out for the night, please,” he announced, looking up at the faeries perched along the top of the bookshelves. They giggled knowingly and flew down to settle on his shoulders. The sole ghost in the flat peered at him mournfully, and he sighed. “I promise I’ll deliver your message tomorrow. But until then, please—find somewhere else to wait.”
Even though he’d asked as nicely as possible, Arthur knew that there was no real way to ensure that the spirits stayed away, short of setting up salt barriers and drawing symbols on the doors and windows—something that would very much piss them off, which he most definitely did not want. Besides, if Alfred came home to that sort of thing, he would definitely doubt Arthur’s sanity then.
As soon as Alfred walked through the door, he was accosted by a very adorable-looking Arthur. The American’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his boyfriend, wearing little but his boxers and Alfred’s old letterman jersey from high school. Arthur had the strangest ideas about what constituted seduction, but Alfred normally didn’t complain. He did now though, because the sight of Arthur in his clothes sent heat spiking straight down to his cock.
“Arthur.” He kicked his shoes off and carelessly dumped his bag on the floor just inside the doorway. “… What the hell are you doing?”
“We’re going to have sex,” Arthur announced. Despite his confident tone of voice, Alfred could see the insecurity in those familiar green eyes and internally berated himself for causing Arthur to doubt himself once more.
“What? Babe, you know that I don’t want… you know. Them watching us and stuff. It’s weird and creepy as hell.”
“We’re going to have sex,” Arthur repeated, raising his voice. “And we’re going to have it now.”
“No, we’re not.” Alfred shook his head and steeled himself before pushing past Arthur and entering the main living area of the flat. “I’m tired.”
There was a short silence, before Arthur followed. “What’s the real reason?”
“Why don’t you want to have sex with me anymore? Don’t give me that ‘I don’t want the ghosts to see us’ bullshit! It’s not as if they’d want to watch, anyway! They don’t want to be reminded about things that they can’t do anymore! What’s the real reason? Are you bored of me? Have you fucked me enough that you’ve had your fill, and you’re ready to move onto the next person? Why won’t you fuck me?” Arthur’s voice had gradually risen until he was shouting, his voice sounding even louder in the silence of the room.
“Arthur…” Alfred stood up suddenly, making his way across the room towards his distraught boyfriend. He froze as he saw Arthur flinch as if expecting a blow. “Artie, sweetheart, what… what the hell are you going on about? I’m not bored of you—don’t ever think that! I could never be bored of you! I love you! I’m just…” He slowly, carefully took a few more steps forward and enveloped Arthur in his arms. “I’m scared of them. I’m really scared, because they’re there and I can’t do anything about them, I can’t protect you from them… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you.”
“Then why won’t you show it…?” Arthur buried his face against his boyfriend’s chest. “We used to do it all the time but now you never even touch me that way and… I don’t want you to be bored of me. If you want we can try new things, whatever you want.”
“Weren’t you listening to me?” Alfred stroked the Englishman’s hair soothingly. “I love you, and sex with you is amazing enough already. We don’t need to do new things—unless you want to, of course. I just… I feel weird, knowing that they’re around. I’ve seen them, so I know they’re real and I know they’re there.”
“They never stay when we’re having sex.” He pulled away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Back then, before you saw them… you must have known that they were real. You said that you didn’t think I was crazy, after all. But now that you’ve seen them, it’s like you’re always concentrating on them.” He glanced up at Alfred. “I want you to concentrate on me. When we’re having sex, you should only be thinking of me, just as I always think only of you.”
Alfred looked guilty. “You’re sure that they don’t stay to watch?”
“They don’t care much for pornographic entertainment, I’m afraid.” Arthur’s joke was weak at best, and the way that he looked at Alfred was both wary and tired. “I specifically asked them to leave the flat for tonight, though.”
“And they’re gone?”
Arthur glanced around the room to confirm it, and nodded. “They’re gone. I promise.”
The American bit his lip briefly, before scooping Arthur up in his arms. He ignored the indignant squawk and lunged into the bedroom, barely avoiding smacking Arthur’s head against the doorframe. “I’ll make the most of the time that they’re gone, then,” he said, “to show you how much I adore you.”
“Aren’t you worried that they might still be hanging around?” Arthur asked as he was gently placed on the bed. He watched eagerly as Alfred began to strip.
“Nah. I trust you.”
Alfred’s foreplay was uncharacteristically long and drawn-out. He kissed and caressed his boyfriend’s pale skin, eliciting soft moans of pleasure that aroused him to no end. Arthur was much more pliant and docile than usual, but Alfred tried to not let it bother him. He just had to reassure Arthur, and then the Briton would definitely return to normal.
Neither of them enjoyed giving blowjobs, but Alfred did his best to ignore the taste as he pressed ascending kisses to the side of Arthur’s erection and slowly licked the tip. He loved the way that Arthur’s body writhed on the bed, that narrow chest rising and falling as the Englishman panted softly.
“Feeling good, babe?” he asked quietly, wondering how on earth he’d managed to deny himself for so long. Everything about Arthur was intoxicating. Fuck the spirits. Arthur was his, and nothing was going to stop him from showering the other man with all of the love, affection and attention that he deserved.
“I w-want—” Arthur broke off and let out a soft cry as Alfred swallowed as much of his cock as he could. The American was clearly inexperienced, but his gentleness and attention more than made up for it. Arthur threw his head back against the pillow and moaned shamelessly as his boyfriend suckled and bobbed to the best of his ability—which actually wasn’t that much, but it felt good at any rate.
Alfred slowly eased the cock out of his mouth, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips until he pulled away. “What do you want?” he asked, crawling up hovering over Arthur’s body on all fours. It seemed too gross to kiss Arthur after having the man’s cock in his mouth, but he wanted to kiss him—so he did. “Do you want to top tonight?” he asked, nibbling on Arthur’s ear. “Is that what you want?”
“N-no,” came the stuttered answer. “I want… I want you to feel good, too. I want you… Inside.” The fact that Arthur could even answer coherently was impressive, and Alfred vowed to redouble his efforts until Arthur couldn’t even think about anything other than Alfred’s love for him.
“How do you want it, then?” he asked, reaching across to the bedside table to search for the bottle of lubricant. “From behind? Face-to-face? Riding?”
Arthur smacked him half-heartedly. “I’ve made you into a pervert,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound as if he was lamenting the fact. “I want to see you,” he said.
“Missionary it is, then!”
By then, Alfred’s cock was standing up proudly but he did his best to ignore his erection as he set about preparing his boyfriend. He slicked his fingers with lube and gently eased one in, pausing to gauge Arthur’s reaction.
“Fucking hurry up already!”
Alfred grinned as he complied, gradually adding another finger and slowly stretching the puckered ring of muscle. There was the Arthur that he knew and loved: the Arthur who was demanding and loud during sex, not the quiet, skittish thing from before—though he loved Arthur no matter how he acted.
Soon enough Arthur was thrusting his hips back against the fingers impatiently, his legs tucked over Alfred’s shoulders. “Put it in. Fuck me!”
“I’m not going to fuck you.” Alfred leaned down and kissed him hungrily, successfully muffling the other man’s confused protests. “I’m going to make love to you.”
“You’re such a sap,” Arthur grumbled, his cheeks flushing bright red. “H-hurry up and make love to me, then!”
Alfred rushed to tear a condom open and haphazardly rolled it onto his erection, slicking it with lube before pressing the tip of his cock to Arthur’s stretched hole. “I love you,” he whispered, capturing Arthur’s lips in another long, languid kiss as he pushed his way inside in one long thrust.
He could feel the way that the Briton’s entire body tensed underneath him, almost convulsing as Arthur scrabbled to get closer, to get away—
“Relax,” Alfred cooed. “C’mon, sweetheart. Relax for me. Breathe. You’re making me feel so good—if you calm down, breathe, I can make you feel good, too.”
Arthur nodded frantically, small, agonised gasps coming from his lips. He dug his fingers into Alfred’s back as he did his best to calm himself down. Gradually, he adjusted to the intrusion, his body relaxing on the bed. “You can move,” he breathed shakily.
Alfred obeyed, pulling out slightly before easing back in. With each successive thrust, he pulled out a little bit further until only the tip of his cock remained inside. He set a steady pace then, caressing any part of Arthur’s skin that he could reach and whispering sweet, comforting words.
Arthur’s eyes were screwed shut and he let out loud, wanton moans as Alfred’s cock successfully brushed against his prostate.
“Arthur,” Alfred groaned, beginning to pick up speed. “Sweetheart, look at me.”
Those brilliant emerald eyes opened then, gazing up into endless blue. Their gazes remained locked even as Alfred’s thrusts became haphazard and he orgasmed hard, shuddering as he came. He pulled out and barely managed to avoid collapsing on top of his boyfriend, rolling to the side instead.
“A-Alfred,” the Briton whimpered, eyes still dilated with lust and need. “Alfred, please—”
The American reached out and gripped the other man’s cock, pumping it once, twice, and then Arthur was arching, coming with a loud, breathless cry. They lay together, breathing heavily but sated and content.
“I love you,” Arthur whispered, eyelids drooping.
They were still a mess, but Alfred couldn’t bring himself to do much more than disposing of the condom and wiping Arthur’s thighs with a tissue. They could clean up in the morning, he decided as he eased the covers over both of them.
“I love you, too,” he whispered back. “And you were right. I couldn’t think of anything but you.”