“W – Who’s a flower here?” Arthur snorted and then, to Alfred, demanded; “Get me some clothes!”
“You know, I am the master here,” Alfred sighed, rubbing the side of his head in exasperation.
Francis shook his head sadly. “You are two lenient mon ami, if you really want to train a slave give him to me. I’ll have him bowing and licking your feet - ”
“Right, we’re going downstairs now,” Alfred cut through him before he could make any more lewd suggestions. “Arthur, you be a good boy and stay put,” Alfred ordered as he left the room with Francis in tow.
Arthur glared at them. “Don’t patronise me you - ”
The door closed before he could finish his sentence. Voices on the other side continued to argue as they grew more distant.
“Great, now I have to deal with this!”
“Ah, if you like I could - ”
“Gah! Don’t put your hand there!”
Arthur waited for the better part of three seconds before wrapping the sheet around his waist and heading straight for the door. He tried the handle. It would not budge.
“He locked the door. Git,” he cursed, giving it a slight kick for good measure.
Looking around, he thought it would be better to assess his situation. The window was still open, he could climb out of that except for the fact that they were on the third floor. He glanced at his waist and wondered if the sheets would be long enough to form a makeshift rope. However, before he could escape he had to be decently clothed.
Throwing open the doors of the armoire, he found various shirts and coats hanging in order of colour. There were a number of trousers folded at the bottom and, upon opening he drawers, he discovered socks and underwear too.
Arthur did not spare a moment’s thought before raiding the armoire. He pulled on the first shirt he could get his hands on; it dropped to his thighs, the sleeves falling halfway over his hands. It was rather sloppy but he supposed that it would have to do. He shrugged on a jacket, also too large, and grabbed a pair of trousers.
“If you wanted to play dress-up you could have just asked.”
Arthur almost shrieked, dropping the clothes at his feet. “Y – You!”
Alfred leaned against the door post, a suspiciously wrapped package lay tucked under his arm and an equally, if not even more, suspicious grin plastered across his face.
“But I think these clothes would suit you much better,” he tore the brown paper off of the package. “I had Francis order this for me. He knows all about fashion.”
Draping the clothes over one arm, Alfred made his way towards him to pull his own clothes off of Arthur. As soon as he had been effectively stripped, Alfred draped the smaller shirt over his shoulders, guiding arms through sleeves and doing up the buttons with gentle care.
“I – I can dress myself,” Arthur protested. Or tried to at least.
“Oh? I thought nobles had servants to wait on them hand and foot,” Alfred chuckled, eyes determinedly fixed on the tiny rose shaped buttons along the shirt.
“Even I can do something like put on a shirt.”
“It’s okay. Let me,” he insisted.
Arthur tried to look at the lightly billowing curtains, anything to keep his mind off of what was happening. A small pout graced his lips. Honestly, how did he wind up in a situation like this of all things? However, when he really thought about it there was not much he could do anymore. He had no money, no title, no house to go back to or a family that would welcome him.
“I...can’t really go home can I?” he murmured.
Alfred’s pause was barely noticeable before he continued working on the buttons. How long did one button take? “It’s okay. You can stay with me. This was designed to be your room,” he replied, showing a gentleness that seemed to totally contrast his earlier brashness.
Arthur made no reply as Alfred crouched down to do up the last of the buttons. The shirt was slightly longer than expected. However, when he felt Alfred’s hand brush against his crotch, he immediately stiffened, suppressing a shiver and an angry shout.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [6/?]
“You know, I am the master here,” Alfred sighed, rubbing the side of his head in exasperation.
Francis shook his head sadly. “You are two lenient mon ami, if you really want to train a slave give him to me. I’ll have him bowing and licking your feet - ”
“Right, we’re going downstairs now,” Alfred cut through him before he could make any more lewd suggestions. “Arthur, you be a good boy and stay put,” Alfred ordered as he left the room with Francis in tow.
Arthur glared at them. “Don’t patronise me you - ”
The door closed before he could finish his sentence. Voices on the other side continued to argue as they grew more distant.
“Great, now I have to deal with this!”
“Ah, if you like I could - ”
“Gah! Don’t put your hand there!”
Arthur waited for the better part of three seconds before wrapping the sheet around his waist and heading straight for the door. He tried the handle. It would not budge.
“He locked the door. Git,” he cursed, giving it a slight kick for good measure.
Looking around, he thought it would be better to assess his situation. The window was still open, he could climb out of that except for the fact that they were on the third floor. He glanced at his waist and wondered if the sheets would be long enough to form a makeshift rope. However, before he could escape he had to be decently clothed.
Throwing open the doors of the armoire, he found various shirts and coats hanging in order of colour. There were a number of trousers folded at the bottom and, upon opening he drawers, he discovered socks and underwear too.
Arthur did not spare a moment’s thought before raiding the armoire. He pulled on the first shirt he could get his hands on; it dropped to his thighs, the sleeves falling halfway over his hands. It was rather sloppy but he supposed that it would have to do. He shrugged on a jacket, also too large, and grabbed a pair of trousers.
“If you wanted to play dress-up you could have just asked.”
Arthur almost shrieked, dropping the clothes at his feet. “Y – You!”
Alfred leaned against the door post, a suspiciously wrapped package lay tucked under his arm and an equally, if not even more, suspicious grin plastered across his face.
“But I think these clothes would suit you much better,” he tore the brown paper off of the package. “I had Francis order this for me. He knows all about fashion.”
Draping the clothes over one arm, Alfred made his way towards him to pull his own clothes off of Arthur. As soon as he had been effectively stripped, Alfred draped the smaller shirt over his shoulders, guiding arms through sleeves and doing up the buttons with gentle care.
“I – I can dress myself,” Arthur protested. Or tried to at least.
“Oh? I thought nobles had servants to wait on them hand and foot,” Alfred chuckled, eyes determinedly fixed on the tiny rose shaped buttons along the shirt.
“Even I can do something like put on a shirt.”
“It’s okay. Let me,” he insisted.
Arthur tried to look at the lightly billowing curtains, anything to keep his mind off of what was happening. A small pout graced his lips. Honestly, how did he wind up in a situation like this of all things? However, when he really thought about it there was not much he could do anymore. He had no money, no title, no house to go back to or a family that would welcome him.
“I...can’t really go home can I?” he murmured.
Alfred’s pause was barely noticeable before he continued working on the buttons. How long did one button take? “It’s okay. You can stay with me. This was designed to be your room,” he replied, showing a gentleness that seemed to totally contrast his earlier brashness.
Arthur made no reply as Alfred crouched down to do up the last of the buttons. The shirt was slightly longer than expected. However, when he felt Alfred’s hand brush against his crotch, he immediately stiffened, suppressing a shiver and an angry shout.