“Then…then all those…things,” Alfred says, starting to curl into himself again. “I – oh God, I killed them. I –”
“Shh.” Arthur reaches out, wraps his arms around Alfred’s shoulders. “Shh. It’s past, Alfred. You didn’t know what you were doing.”
Alfred gives one agonized sob.
Arthur’s fingers tighten on Alfred’s shoulders, and he makes a decision.
Arthur tips Alfred’s face up to his and kisses him again; it’s not like their first kiss. It’s slow and awkward, but it’s also full and sensual and promising. He pulls back, licking over Alfred’s bottom lip teasingly, and looks into wide, stunned blue eyes.
“I can save you from this,” Arthur murmurs. “Will you let me do that?”
Alfred looks up into his eyes, and Arthur knows that he realizes what Arthur is offering. His brows knit into a frown. “Is that the only reason we’d do this?” Alfred asks, sounding suspicious.
“No,” Arthur says, and he speaks the truth. He brushes his lips against Alfred’s forehead again. “I’m doing this because I’ve loved you, too, for a long time, and because we were both too stupid to see it in the first place.” He kisses cheekbones, the bridge of Alfred’s nose. “If I can save you from this,” he whispers into the corner of Alfred’s mouth, “that’s just an added bonus.”
He moves in to kiss Alfred again, and this time Alfred turns his head in to respond. He wraps his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and pulls him down to the bed. Arthur follows willingly, and presses his tongue into Alfred’s mouth. ___
Must you go, England?
I’m sorry.
Shy, barely-there kisses against Alfred’s stomach and chest; their bodies thrumming with anticipation and a little bit of fear.
Are you sure?
Just stay by my side, always. As long as you are there, I think I’ll be all right.
He works a lotion-slicked finger into Alfred, even as he peppers a strong thigh with kisses, even as he lubes himself up.
We will miss you terribly.
And I, you.
Arthur leans over Alfred, slinging a leg over his shoulder. He pauses, the tip of his erection at Alfred’s entrance, and presses a kiss into the hollow of his throat before pressing forward.
Goodbye then, my friends.
Goodbye. Goodbye, Arthur Kirkland, who we call Brita
They both hiss and swear as Arthur penetrates Alfred, and Arthur feels something inside of him break and fall away.
They move in gentle, delicate thrusts. Arthur lets that part of him disappear into the mists. ___
When Arthur blinks awake that morning, it’s to Alfred’s sleeping face. He reaches up with a hand and cups it, letting his fingers slide along smooth skin.
Arthur’s face looks peaceful – a lot better than it did before. He’ll have to wake up before Arthur’s certain, but he thinks that maybe it’s finally over – that Arthur took care of the last vestiges of Alfred’s nightmare.
He looks around the room and notices that it’s different. The colors seem flattened, muted somehow; there are no fairies to greet him or tie his hair up in tangled locks. He is alone this morning.
That world is closed to me forever, he thinks, and gives himself up to a moment of despair.
Then Alfred shifts and groans, stretching his arms out as his eyes flutter open. He blinks, and then grins at Arthur. “Mmmornin’,” he says, his voice still sleepy and long.
Arthur grins back. “Good morning, indeed.”
And it is. Alfred’s eyes are clear and bright; his smile is sincere, without any darkness lingering behind it. It’s stunningly beautiful to look at; he’s looking at his Alfred for the first time in over a year, and the thought nearly makes him cry.
He presses a firm kiss to Alfred’s lips to stem that tide; Alfred hums and returns it, slow and gentle, until their lips part for air.
“How do you feel?” he whispers to Alfred.
Alfred considers, his smile fading a little. “Good. Really good, actually. I mean, the memories are there, and I’ll have to deal with them sometime – but they feel dull. Muted. I can think again.” He grins. “It’s like I had a really bad dream.”
Yes, Arthur thinks, and kisses Alfred again for the hell of it. Alfred doesn’t seem to mind.
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Re: Croatoan [72]
(Anonymous) 2009-04-22 12:12 am (UTC)(link)“Shh.” Arthur reaches out, wraps his arms around Alfred’s shoulders. “Shh. It’s past, Alfred. You didn’t know what you were doing.”
Alfred gives one agonized sob.
Arthur’s fingers tighten on Alfred’s shoulders, and he makes a decision.
Arthur tips Alfred’s face up to his and kisses him again; it’s not like their first kiss. It’s slow and awkward, but it’s also full and sensual and promising. He pulls back, licking over Alfred’s bottom lip teasingly, and looks into wide, stunned blue eyes.
“I can save you from this,” Arthur murmurs. “Will you let me do that?”
Alfred looks up into his eyes, and Arthur knows that he realizes what Arthur is offering. His brows knit into a frown. “Is that the only reason we’d do this?” Alfred asks, sounding suspicious.
“No,” Arthur says, and he speaks the truth. He brushes his lips against Alfred’s forehead again. “I’m doing this because I’ve loved you, too, for a long time, and because we were both too stupid to see it in the first place.” He kisses cheekbones, the bridge of Alfred’s nose. “If I can save you from this,” he whispers into the corner of Alfred’s mouth, “that’s just an added bonus.”
He moves in to kiss Alfred again, and this time Alfred turns his head in to respond. He wraps his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and pulls him down to the bed. Arthur follows willingly, and presses his tongue into Alfred’s mouth.
___
Must you go, England?
I’m sorry.
Shy, barely-there kisses against Alfred’s stomach and chest; their bodies thrumming with anticipation and a little bit of fear.
Are you sure?
Just stay by my side, always. As long as you are there, I think I’ll be all right.
He works a lotion-slicked finger into Alfred, even as he peppers a strong thigh with kisses, even as he lubes himself up.
We will miss you terribly.
And I, you.
Arthur leans over Alfred, slinging a leg over his shoulder. He pauses, the tip of his erection at Alfred’s entrance, and presses a kiss into the hollow of his throat before pressing forward.
Goodbye then, my friends.
Goodbye. Goodbye, Arthur Kirkland, who we call Brita
They both hiss and swear as Arthur penetrates Alfred, and Arthur feels something inside of him break and fall away.
They move in gentle, delicate thrusts. Arthur lets that part of him disappear into the mists.
___
When Arthur blinks awake that morning, it’s to Alfred’s sleeping face. He reaches up with a hand and cups it, letting his fingers slide along smooth skin.
Arthur’s face looks peaceful – a lot better than it did before. He’ll have to wake up before Arthur’s certain, but he thinks that maybe it’s finally over – that Arthur took care of the last vestiges of Alfred’s nightmare.
He looks around the room and notices that it’s different. The colors seem flattened, muted somehow; there are no fairies to greet him or tie his hair up in tangled locks. He is alone this morning.
That world is closed to me forever, he thinks, and gives himself up to a moment of despair.
Then Alfred shifts and groans, stretching his arms out as his eyes flutter open. He blinks, and then grins at Arthur. “Mmmornin’,” he says, his voice still sleepy and long.
Arthur grins back. “Good morning, indeed.”
And it is. Alfred’s eyes are clear and bright; his smile is sincere, without any darkness lingering behind it. It’s stunningly beautiful to look at; he’s looking at his Alfred for the first time in over a year, and the thought nearly makes him cry.
He presses a firm kiss to Alfred’s lips to stem that tide; Alfred hums and returns it, slow and gentle, until their lips part for air.
“How do you feel?” he whispers to Alfred.
Alfred considers, his smile fading a little. “Good. Really good, actually. I mean, the memories are there, and I’ll have to deal with them sometime – but they feel dull. Muted. I can think again.” He grins. “It’s like I had a really bad dream.”
Yes, Arthur thinks, and kisses Alfred again for the hell of it. Alfred doesn’t seem to mind.