She introduced herself as Emily; the only maid currently working on the manor, as she shook Arthur’s hand. It was nice to meet him, she said. It was good to finally have a strong arm to help around the house and was he aware of what would be required of him.
They toured around the house, Emily showing him the ins and outs of the manor, where the bread was kept and the newspapers ironed, where the key to the wine cabinet was hidden and what to do when the grocer’s boy came round with eggs and butter.
Arthur, though feeling a little lost, found that he could not utter a word of protest. He could not refuse to work; not in front of this kind old lady and, at the back of his mind, he reckoned that this was all part of Alfred’s man. Perhaps he was not as dumb as he looked.
As if to speak of the devil, Alfred poked his head out of the study as Emily was showing him one of the many store cupboards. His eyes brightened with a smile when he saw them and quickly began to approach.
“Oh, you’re up! That’s good,” he beamed. Emily curtsied but Arthur, standing behind her, simply scowled.
The look on his face was not beyond Alfred’s recognition. Rather than being offended however, he grinned. “What? Giving me the silent treatment now? That’s cruel, Arthur.”
“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my name!” Arthur snapped, forgetting Emily’s worried look.
Alfred’s laughter rang cross the hall. “Then what should I call you? You don’t expect me to say ‘Mr Kirkland’ to a servant?”
“Git,” Arthur mumbled but could not deny that that would be very awkward if he did.
“I see you’re going to be a troublesome one. Come with me to the study,” he ordered. Arthur did not move. “What’s wrong? Even a dog knows how to follow orders,” he turned back when he realised that his servant was remaining resolutely still.
A trill of indignation ran up his spine. The man was still as crude and ill-mannered as ever. “Don’t compare me to a dog!” he spat but followed Alfred anyway.
XX
He was surprised to see that what Alfred had called a study was more like a small library. Bookshelves reached the ceiling, crammed full of books of varying thickness. More lay in piles at the feet of the bookcases, paper strewn across the floor and, in the middle of the room a desk with a small lump was buried under an avalanche of documents.
“You can read right? Clean this up then. The books go back in alphabetical order,” Alfred waved a hand over the mess.
“You’re a slob,” Arthur muttered, running a critical eye over the mess. He refused to be impressed by the selection. They were probably just for show anyway.
“I’m simply busy.”
“So you do work after all.”
He picked up a thick tome at random, running his eyes over the gold leaf lettering. Alfred pushed the paper off of his desk and settled down with a quill, scratching something rather noisily on a piece of parchment. Arthur continued to return the books on the floor back to their rightful places.
The work was surprisingly boring. With exception for lunch and bathroom breaks, the mess had been left of accumulate for so long that stacking the books took the entire day. Though it briefly crossed Arthur’s mind to insist that he was not meant to be used for such menial work, he never found the time to actually raise his protests. Alfred finished whatever he was doing as soon as lunch was sounded and for the rest of the day he was out gallivanting somewhere, or so Emily told him.
The thought made him scowl. How dare that man go out and have a good time when here he was, tidying that man’s mess. He had not stepped outside since coming to the manor and was craving a little fresh air.
Finally, as darkness descended, the study was mostly clean – he wondered how long that would last – and a chime at the door announced Alfred’s return to the manor.
Arthur had no idea why he rushed out to meet him. Maybe he just wanted to give him a piece of his mind that was all, but when he finally reached the door he found that he had nothing to say after all.
Emily was taking his coat and hat from him. Alfred smiled and thanked her until his eyes landed on Arthur and his smile widened.
Here's the pic of Arhtu's outfit(line art)http://pics.livejournal.com/mizumimi/pic/0000a0d2/g1 Warning: I really do suck at drawing
“Arthur! Come help me undress,” he ordered as he passed him, already loosening his tie.
“Can’t you do this yourself?” Arthur nevertheless followed him up the stairs to the master bedroom.
“It’s more fun if you do it for me!” Alfred laughed, throwing open the door. They stepped inside and he turned, spreading his arms out to be undressed.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “So? What were you doing all evening?” he demanded, hands latching on to the clasps of his waistcoat.
“Enjoying myself of course. I was playing poker with some...friends,” Alfred’s smile became tenuous at the mention of ‘friends.’
Unlike Alfred, Arthur did not bother to savour the act of undressing another man. The waistcoat came off quickly, thrown over the side of a chair in an afterthought. The buttons of Alfred’s shirt were the next to come undone; his hands working quickly on unfastening them.
“You should stop that. Gambling is the path to the devil,” he grunted as the shirt came loose and slid off of Alfred’s shoulders.
He snorted. “What are you, a puritan?”
“No!” he blushed. “It’s just that gambling was the whole reason my family fell into debt in the first place. It was all over a series of poker games as well.”
A lazy smile crossed his face. Arthur looked away. He suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that he was with a half naked man...working methodically stripping him of the other half.
“Oh, are you worried about me?” Alfred looked both pleased and amused by this. “Don’t worry, I’m great at it!” he laughed.
Arthur scowled and dropped to his knees to fiddle with the belt. “I take it back! Gamble as much as you want. Go gamble and lose your fortune! Then maybe your ego will deflate with your wallet.”
“I hate to break it to you but that won’t be happening anytime soon. I am awesome at the game after all.” It was hard to take his boasting seriously when his trousers slipped to the floor, leaving him in only underwear. Alfred stepped out of it on his own accord, stooping up to fling the rest of his clothes to one side. “That will be all, you can retire for the night.”
At first Arthur was confused. It had been a whole day and Alfred had not tried to touch him, molest him, taunt him or make any other inappropriate comments.
“Is something wrong?” Alfred asked, wondering why Arthur was still in his room after he had been dismissed.
“Uh...no,” he shook his head, regaining enough sense to turn around and head for the door.
Arms snaked around him; hands planted firmly on his chest stopped him from going any further.
“Oh, I see,” Alfred’s breath tickled the lobe of his ear.
A blush rose to his cheeks “Sh – shut up!” he struggled in Alfred’s grip, though to no avail. He could just feel him grinning from ear to ear, probably thinking of a thousand lewd, inappropriate thoughts at that very minute!
“If you really wanted to sleep with me so badly you should have just said so,” Alfred tried to sound casual but his voice betrayed his delight.
Arthur froze. “What? I never said that I – Ahhh!” before he could finish his sentence, he felt himself being pulled back until he was falling. Alfred’s back hit the double bed, dragging Arthur with him into a sea of blue sheets and duck feather pillows.
“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” Alfred stretched, still refusing to let go of his prize.
“N – no it doesn’t! What will Emily think when she sees two grown men sleeping together like this?! Hey, are you listening to me?”
Arthur shook his head. He was too close. Like this, if he turned around, Alfred’s face would be right in front of him. The feel of naked skin against the back of his thin shirt spread warmth through his body. The colour in his cheeks rose to crimson.
However, he was surprised when the grip slackened, though it was not enough to free himself, it warranted a curious glance over his shoulder to Alfred’s sleeping face. The rise and fall of his chest pressed against Arthur’s back. This close, he thought he could hear the sound of a heart beat and Alfred’s steady breathing.
There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight.
Wow Every time I come here there is a new part!!! I'm so happy!!! Writer!anon is the bestest best ever to write such an amazing story!!! I love the interaction between Alfred and Arthur!!! and this part was really cute, I can't wait for the next one :) Etoo... About the direction of this story settled by the request, you're free to do whatever you want with it, but humbly ask for a happy ending if it is possible. Keep writing to your heart's content Anon, I'll be always waiting patiently for you Lots of love OP
Thank you, OP!Anon. This author!anon is working on filling the kinks
Francis, Arthur decided with a definite sigh, was definitely going to be the bane of his existence. Him and that sloppy, no-good, obscenely cheerful American he had the indignity of calling ‘master.’
“Ah, mon cheri, I see you have settled in well,” the Frenchman in question sidled up to him when they bumped into each other in the drawing room. Arthur had just been cleaning, but now, faced with Francis he did an about-turn and tried to march right out until Francis flung an arm over Arthur’s shoulder, halting him. Just how had he managed to get in anyway? Arthur could not recall ever hearing the bell ring.
Stiffly, he flung his arm off. “Listen, git, I have a bone to pick with you!” he glared at Francis and his ridiculous clothes with all his might.
“Avec moi?” Francis smiled, feigning innocence.
Arthur tried to keep a handle on his temper, despite the fact that he was sure that he was being ridiculed again. “These clothes!” he ran a hand over the long coat. “I’m a servant and you’re making me dress like a gentleman? Are you trying to mock me?”
“You do not like the clothes?” Francis looked surprised, as if anyone could possibly dislike his taste in fashion. “What a selfish man. If you don’t like them you don’t have to wear them. If they displease you so much then take them off.”
Arthur yelped as Francis reached for the bow around his neck, quickly loosening it. The man was faster than he could have possibly imagined; by the time he realised the bow was undone, so were half of the buttons on his shirt and his coat was slipping off of his shoulders. Arthur was sure that he would have been fully undressed if not for the loud bang to the door.
“Francis!” Alfred’s face was much like the sound he had made; thunderous.
“Ah, mon ami! Francis immediately released Arthur – he sighed with relief – and held his hands up as if he had absolutely no part in what his hands decided to undress or molest.
“Don’t speak French to me!” Alfred glowered at him. “And keep your hands off of my servants!”
“I was only trying to help - ”
“Help my arse!” Arthur scowled.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
“Francis!”
The Frenchman smiled, letting his arms drop to his side. As if to show his goodwill, he took a further three steps away from Arthur, he was busily readjusting his clothing with a very red face and as much dignity as he could muster.
Alfred turned a sympathetic eye towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with this. Can you please ask Emily to bring some wine into the drawing room later?”
“Whatever,” Arthur shrugged. He was proud for the fact that he did not run right out of the room but those who observed him noticed a distinct briskness about his walk.
Unfortunately for him Emily was gone by the time he made it to the kitchen. He reminded himself with a groan that today was the day she usually went out to buy meat from the butcher’s. That only meant that he would have to take it upon himself to serve the wine, meaning he would inevitably have to return to the drawing room.
His hands shook with the humiliation of the whole affair as he poured the glasses. How dare that damn, slimy frog bastard try and touch him! Alfred was bad enough. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his days surrounded by perverts after his body like – like rabid men after a maiden?
Arthur’s face went as red as the wine recalling Alfred’s first attempts with him. Damn that man! Damn all mankind who did not know how to act like a proper gentleman! He seethed with the audacity of it! The disgrace! The – the absolute, utter, undeniable arrogance that man had shown in just about everything he did!
His energy deflated with the suddenness of a popped balloon. Why was he getting so worked up about Alfred? In fact, what was he doing ranting to himself like this? He had wine to serve.
By the time he returned, it sounded as if the two had already settled down, as had Arthur, though he often thought back to his rant and a small wave of depression would wash over him.
The door to the drawing room had been left partially closed. Arthur raised his fist to knock but suddenly halted. Now that he thought about it, what did Alfred talk about with Francis? He knew that they were ‘friends’ – in the loosest sense of the word – but they were not in any business ventures together that would be a cause for them to have such serious discussions.
“You already have what you wanted, mon ami, I think you are pushing your luck,” Francis’ thick tone trickled through the slight crack between door and door post.
“Lady Luck loves me,” Alfred’s boasting could be clearly heard even without pressing an ear to the wood. “Besides, if they choose to play then that’s a risk they take. They just don’t learn.”
Francis sighed. “You already have what you wanted. Don’t provoke them.”
Laughter boomed. Arthur had never heard Alfred laugh as loudly as he did. “Are you worried about me, Francis?”
“I think you are being a fool, that’s all.” Displeasure gave an edge to his voice. “You know how vicious nobles can be, especially when they’re playing games and trust me, mon ami, all of life is a game to them. You already have what you wanted.”
There. Again. Arthur wondered what Francis meant when he kept repeating ‘you already have what you wanted.’ He knew that Alfred gambled – boasted about his good luck in the game – but were they also involved in something shady?
Well, it was none of his business, Arthur obstinately told himself and with that rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open.
“Your wine, sirs,” he announced, curling his tongue around the word ‘sirs’ so that it dripped with sarcasm.
“Arthur?” Alfred’s shock was the first to register in his brain. “I remember asking you to send Emily,” he stood, taking the decanter of wine from him. There was slight anger in his voice, not enough to really be recognisable but just enough to shake Arthur a bit.
“Emily is currently out shopping,” Arthur replied curtly. He did not want to be in the room a moment longer if he was going to be treated with such ingratitude.
Turning on his heels, he marched back to the kitchen, scowling to himself. What was that? Just because he had come instead of Emily was no reason for Alfred to get so upset, surely he was just as good as she was at serving him.
“Git!” he growled at the far wall. He flung a damp tea cloth at it, imagining that it was Alfred’s face.
Anon apologises for the lateness! Anon got caught up in other prompts
XX
Arthur was still angry at how Alfred had treated him by the time he was ready to retire. Honestly, there was no reason for Alfred to have looked so upset when all he did was bring them wine instead of Emily.
Okay, so maybe he had eavesdropped on a conversation he should not have heard but how was Alfred to know? Besides he had no clue what they had been talking about, except that it probably involved gambling.
His foul mood was enough reason to throw Alfred out of his room when he entered that night without knocking. That man never had the decency to knock. What if he had been getting undressed?
“Is there something you want?” he snapped.
Alfred closed the door behind him. The click it made sounded a little too loud but Arthur had no time to dwell on that as Alfred silently proceeded to approach him.
“A – Alfred?” he stepped back. “What? Did you get into an argument with that wino again?”
He almost shrieked when Alfred flung his arms around his shoulders, pulling him against his chest. “I don’t feel like going to sleep. Why don’t you play with me?” he whispered suggestively but with none of his usual playfulness.
“...What’s wrong?” Arthur pushed him away.
“I want you to - ”
“Don’t give me that! Why are you acting so strange?” he snapped. This muteness was scaring him a little. He was used to a normal, audacious Alfred, not this quiet, serious one.
“I...okay, I’ll confess everything,” Alfred sighed. “Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m gravely ill. I think...it’s probably fatal.”
Arthur blinked. “...What?” Sickness? Fatal? As much as he hated the man, his heart began to race with fear.
“I...Arthur, I...” Alfred paused for dramatic effect. “...I have love sickness!”
Arthur whacked him around the side of the head so hard that Alfred stumbled back and fell on to the bed. “You bloody git!” he screamed at him, his face turning crimson. From this day forth he swore that he would never, ever believe a single word that man said.
“Don’t be so cruel! Can’t you see that I am dying?” Alfred lay flat against the bed, having his arms in the air as if writhing in pain, though his loud laughter did not help his cause.
“Go die in a ditch, pig!”
Alfred laughter dwindled into chuckles. “Okay, okay, I won’t joke about it anymore, but weren’t you seriously worried?” he asked, sitting up with a smile.
Arthur would ever admit that he was slightly relieved to see him return to his former self. No, he would rather die than admit something like that. “Don’t flatter yourself! If I was worried, it was only because I’d be on the streets if you died,” he retorted.
“You don’t mean that!”
“I do! I definitely do! I can’t wait to be rid of you!” he cried, turning his back on Alfred.
“...Arthur,” he whispered.
“Wh – What is it now?” Arthur turned and, as he did so, found himself smacking straight into Alfred’s chest. The man’s arms descended upon him, trapping him there.
“Arthur,” he whispered, resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder.
“W - What?”
Alfred kissed his ear without reply and Arthur had to briefly wonder why he was letting this git have his way with him again.
Once again, Arthur found himself caught by Francis again as he was making his cleaning rounds.
“How do you always manage to sneak inside?” he snapped. If he did not know better he would have thought that the man actually broke into the manor to do all sorts of lewd things.
“A trade secret,” Francis winked. “Mon ami, Alfred is not home yet?”
“He’s out playing that terrible game he likes so much,” Arthur grumbled. It was worse when Alfred was not in; there was no one to save him this time if Francis decided that his clothes were getting a little too small for him.
However, groping him was something that Francis would settle for later Digging into his breast pocket he produced a piece of paper and handed it to Arthur. “Ah then perhaps I can send you on an errand? It is important that he gets this soon. Here, I will write down directions.”
Arthur grudgingly took the note and excused himself. At least this way there was no chance of being molested. He was disappointed to see, however, that apart from the directions the note Francis had given him was in some sort of code.
“This is definitely shady!” he muttered, pocketing both note and directions as he made his way to the gambling houses.
Arthur approached gambling house with more than a little caution. He had never seen a gambling house before, of course he had not; he was from a well-to-do family! Ignoring the fact that his brothers often gambled, he had never had any desire to throw money away.
The current establishment looked more like a whore house without the whores, not that he had ever been to the red light district either!
The doorman was a squat but muscular man with more hairs in his nose than his entire head. Plucking up his courage, he approached him, clearing his throat loudly so that he could be heard over the loud voices coming from within.
“I’m here with a message for Mr Alfred Jones.”
The man fixed him in his sight, scowling as if he resented being forced to do his job. Grumbling under his breath, he hoped from the stool where he had been half-sleeping and unlocked the iron door, leading him into a place with nefariously narrow corridors with purple walls and disgustingly ruddy red carpets stained with alcohol.
“Can’t he gamble in a more refined place,” Arthur hissed under his breath. Stupid Alfred and his stupid habits!
The man brought him along a series of doors. Muffled voices shouted behind the oak, sounds of struggles and even the odd scream made Arthur jump.
“The one on th’ end,” the doorman grunted, thrusting his thumb in the direction of the last door at the end of the corridor before ambling back to his post.
Arthur forgot to thank the man, not that he had really done anything to be thanked. He was too busy staring at the door as though it were a portal to the underworld. This was shady. This was definitely shady.
He chided himself for being so weak. No, he would go in there, march up to that idiot Alfred, and give him a piece of his mind about gambling and how it corrupted the soul or something! His hand as already firmly wrapped around the handle when his courage was suddenly drained by the angry shouts coming from within.
“Damn you Jones! You cheated!”
It figured that someone would be angry with Alfred. That was not what caused him to pause. Though muffled, he knew that voice.
“Don’t be such a sore loser, I never use underhanded tricks,” he could hear the glee on Alfred’s voice.
“Dammit, my entire fortune is riding on this!”
“B – Brother?” Arthur whispered and pressed his ear to the door.
“Maybe you should quit,” Alfred advised.
“Screw you! I’ve already lost this much!”
Yes, his brother had already lost their estates and almost all of their wealth Was that not why they sold him To pay for their debts? Yet now his stupid brother was doing the same thing he had before, only this time they would not be able to sell him again if they got into trouble.
Arthur could hear Alfred sigh. “If you insist.”
“Bastard, is taking my little brother not enough for you?”
“I was under the impression that you didn’t like him. Besides I - ”
There was a loud thud, which sounded distinctly like someone slamming something down on the table.
“Don’t screw with me! This is all your fault! In fact you were the one who suggested we sell him to pay off the money we owed! You said that you would help cover our debts if we did!”
Arthur jerked his head back, his heart thumping. Alfred had really said that? But that was impossible, how had Alfred even been aware of his existence before that day when he had been sold as a slave? Had this whole thing been orchestrated by him? Arthur could not imagine why.
His hands curled into tight fists. He did not know why this sudden realisation hurt him either. It was as if someone had driven a stake into his chest, it was a burning fire that continually seared him without relief. He always knew that man had been rotten, hadn’t he? He always knew that man had been no good.
“What did I ever do to you?” Arthur muttered, turning his back to the door.
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Re: Pride goeth before destruction [9/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-11 12:10 pm (UTC)(link)They toured around the house, Emily showing him the ins and outs of the manor, where the bread was kept and the newspapers ironed, where the key to the wine cabinet was hidden and what to do when the grocer’s boy came round with eggs and butter.
Arthur, though feeling a little lost, found that he could not utter a word of protest. He could not refuse to work; not in front of this kind old lady and, at the back of his mind, he reckoned that this was all part of Alfred’s man. Perhaps he was not as dumb as he looked.
As if to speak of the devil, Alfred poked his head out of the study as Emily was showing him one of the many store cupboards. His eyes brightened with a smile when he saw them and quickly began to approach.
“Oh, you’re up! That’s good,” he beamed. Emily curtsied but Arthur, standing behind her, simply scowled.
The look on his face was not beyond Alfred’s recognition. Rather than being offended however, he grinned. “What? Giving me the silent treatment now? That’s cruel, Arthur.”
“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my name!” Arthur snapped, forgetting Emily’s worried look.
Alfred’s laughter rang cross the hall. “Then what should I call you? You don’t expect me to say ‘Mr Kirkland’ to a servant?”
“Git,” Arthur mumbled but could not deny that that would be very awkward if he did.
“I see you’re going to be a troublesome one. Come with me to the study,” he ordered. Arthur did not move. “What’s wrong? Even a dog knows how to follow orders,” he turned back when he realised that his servant was remaining resolutely still.
A trill of indignation ran up his spine. The man was still as crude and ill-mannered as ever. “Don’t compare me to a dog!” he spat but followed Alfred anyway.
XX
He was surprised to see that what Alfred had called a study was more like a small library. Bookshelves reached the ceiling, crammed full of books of varying thickness. More lay in piles at the feet of the bookcases, paper strewn across the floor and, in the middle of the room a desk with a small lump was buried under an avalanche of documents.
“You can read right? Clean this up then. The books go back in alphabetical order,” Alfred waved a hand over the mess.
“You’re a slob,” Arthur muttered, running a critical eye over the mess. He refused to be impressed by the selection. They were probably just for show anyway.
“I’m simply busy.”
“So you do work after all.”
He picked up a thick tome at random, running his eyes over the gold leaf lettering. Alfred pushed the paper off of his desk and settled down with a quill, scratching something rather noisily on a piece of parchment. Arthur continued to return the books on the floor back to their rightful places.
The work was surprisingly boring. With exception for lunch and bathroom breaks, the mess had been left of accumulate for so long that stacking the books took the entire day. Though it briefly crossed Arthur’s mind to insist that he was not meant to be used for such menial work, he never found the time to actually raise his protests. Alfred finished whatever he was doing as soon as lunch was sounded and for the rest of the day he was out gallivanting somewhere, or so Emily told him.
The thought made him scowl. How dare that man go out and have a good time when here he was, tidying that man’s mess. He had not stepped outside since coming to the manor and was craving a little fresh air.
Finally, as darkness descended, the study was mostly clean – he wondered how long that would last – and a chime at the door announced Alfred’s return to the manor.
Arthur had no idea why he rushed out to meet him. Maybe he just wanted to give him a piece of his mind that was all, but when he finally reached the door he found that he had nothing to say after all.
Emily was taking his coat and hat from him. Alfred smiled and thanked her until his eyes landed on Arthur and his smile widened.
XX
anon is working on the art!
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [9/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-11 12:27 pm (UTC)(link)Now why do I have an image of Arthur eventually advising Alfred how to act like a proper gentleman? XD
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [9/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-11 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)I totally laughed at him being his usual sloppy self though
Gaah, waiting for the continutation is getting harder and harder each time—
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [9/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-11 06:22 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Pride goeth before destruction [9/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-11 05:58 pm (UTC)(link)Haha I feel sorry for Arthur though..XD
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [9/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-11 07:04 pm (UTC)(link)AND. ... am I wrong. for thinking the next segment is gonna wind up being smut? ROFLROFL maybe I'm just looking too forward to it. ;A;''
And yes! I can't wait to see the visual~~ <3
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [10/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-13 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)“Arthur! Come help me undress,” he ordered as he passed him, already loosening his tie.
“Can’t you do this yourself?” Arthur nevertheless followed him up the stairs to the master bedroom.
“It’s more fun if you do it for me!” Alfred laughed, throwing open the door. They stepped inside and he turned, spreading his arms out to be undressed.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “So? What were you doing all evening?” he demanded, hands latching on to the clasps of his waistcoat.
“Enjoying myself of course. I was playing poker with some...friends,” Alfred’s smile became tenuous at the mention of ‘friends.’
Unlike Alfred, Arthur did not bother to savour the act of undressing another man. The waistcoat came off quickly, thrown over the side of a chair in an afterthought. The buttons of Alfred’s shirt were the next to come undone; his hands working quickly on unfastening them.
“You should stop that. Gambling is the path to the devil,” he grunted as the shirt came loose and slid off of Alfred’s shoulders.
He snorted. “What are you, a puritan?”
“No!” he blushed. “It’s just that gambling was the whole reason my family fell into debt in the first place. It was all over a series of poker games as well.”
A lazy smile crossed his face. Arthur looked away. He suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that he was with a half naked man...working methodically stripping him of the other half.
“Oh, are you worried about me?” Alfred looked both pleased and amused by this. “Don’t worry, I’m great at it!” he laughed.
Arthur scowled and dropped to his knees to fiddle with the belt. “I take it back! Gamble as much as you want. Go gamble and lose your fortune! Then maybe your ego will deflate with your wallet.”
“I hate to break it to you but that won’t be happening anytime soon. I am awesome at the game after all.” It was hard to take his boasting seriously when his trousers slipped to the floor, leaving him in only underwear. Alfred stepped out of it on his own accord, stooping up to fling the rest of his clothes to one side. “That will be all, you can retire for the night.”
At first Arthur was confused. It had been a whole day and Alfred had not tried to touch him, molest him, taunt him or make any other inappropriate comments.
“Is something wrong?” Alfred asked, wondering why Arthur was still in his room after he had been dismissed.
“Uh...no,” he shook his head, regaining enough sense to turn around and head for the door.
Arms snaked around him; hands planted firmly on his chest stopped him from going any further.
“Oh, I see,” Alfred’s breath tickled the lobe of his ear.
A blush rose to his cheeks “Sh – shut up!” he struggled in Alfred’s grip, though to no avail. He could just feel him grinning from ear to ear, probably thinking of a thousand lewd, inappropriate thoughts at that very minute!
“If you really wanted to sleep with me so badly you should have just said so,” Alfred tried to sound casual but his voice betrayed his delight.
Arthur froze. “What? I never said that I – Ahhh!” before he could finish his sentence, he felt himself being pulled back until he was falling. Alfred’s back hit the double bed, dragging Arthur with him into a sea of blue sheets and duck feather pillows.
“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” Alfred stretched, still refusing to let go of his prize.
“N – no it doesn’t! What will Emily think when she sees two grown men sleeping together like this?! Hey, are you listening to me?”
Arthur shook his head. He was too close. Like this, if he turned around, Alfred’s face would be right in front of him. The feel of naked skin against the back of his thin shirt spread warmth through his body. The colour in his cheeks rose to crimson.
However, he was surprised when the grip slackened, though it was not enough to free himself, it warranted a curious glance over his shoulder to Alfred’s sleeping face. The rise and fall of his chest pressed against Arthur’s back. This close, he thought he could hear the sound of a heart beat and Alfred’s steady breathing.
There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [10/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-13 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)Oh this is just too cute! ♥ Oh Arthur.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [10/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-14 12:25 am (UTC)(link)And your drawing is really good!! ^^
OP
(Anonymous) 2009-05-15 01:04 am (UTC)(link)Etoo... About the direction of this story settled by the request, you're free to do whatever you want with it, but humbly ask for a happy ending if it is possible.
Keep writing to your heart's content Anon, I'll be always waiting patiently for you
Lots of love
OP
Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2009-05-15 04:47 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Pride goeth before destruction [10/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-16 06:40 am (UTC)(link)Re: Pride goeth before destruction [11/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-16 06:07 pm (UTC)(link)Francis, Arthur decided with a definite sigh, was definitely going to be the bane of his existence. Him and that sloppy, no-good, obscenely cheerful American he had the indignity of calling ‘master.’
“Ah, mon cheri, I see you have settled in well,” the Frenchman in question sidled up to him when they bumped into each other in the drawing room. Arthur had just been cleaning, but now, faced with Francis he did an about-turn and tried to march right out until Francis flung an arm over Arthur’s shoulder, halting him. Just how had he managed to get in anyway? Arthur could not recall ever hearing the bell ring.
Stiffly, he flung his arm off. “Listen, git, I have a bone to pick with you!” he glared at Francis and his ridiculous clothes with all his might.
“Avec moi?” Francis smiled, feigning innocence.
Arthur tried to keep a handle on his temper, despite the fact that he was sure that he was being ridiculed again. “These clothes!” he ran a hand over the long coat. “I’m a servant and you’re making me dress like a gentleman? Are you trying to mock me?”
“You do not like the clothes?” Francis looked surprised, as if anyone could possibly dislike his taste in fashion. “What a selfish man. If you don’t like them you don’t have to wear them. If they displease you so much then take them off.”
Arthur yelped as Francis reached for the bow around his neck, quickly loosening it. The man was faster than he could have possibly imagined; by the time he realised the bow was undone, so were half of the buttons on his shirt and his coat was slipping off of his shoulders. Arthur was sure that he would have been fully undressed if not for the loud bang to the door.
“Francis!” Alfred’s face was much like the sound he had made; thunderous.
“Ah, mon ami! Francis immediately released Arthur – he sighed with relief – and held his hands up as if he had absolutely no part in what his hands decided to undress or molest.
“Don’t speak French to me!” Alfred glowered at him. “And keep your hands off of my servants!”
“I was only trying to help - ”
“Help my arse!” Arthur scowled.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
“Francis!”
The Frenchman smiled, letting his arms drop to his side. As if to show his goodwill, he took a further three steps away from Arthur, he was busily readjusting his clothing with a very red face and as much dignity as he could muster.
Alfred turned a sympathetic eye towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with this. Can you please ask Emily to bring some wine into the drawing room later?”
“Whatever,” Arthur shrugged. He was proud for the fact that he did not run right out of the room but those who observed him noticed a distinct briskness about his walk.
Unfortunately for him Emily was gone by the time he made it to the kitchen. He reminded himself with a groan that today was the day she usually went out to buy meat from the butcher’s. That only meant that he would have to take it upon himself to serve the wine, meaning he would inevitably have to return to the drawing room.
His hands shook with the humiliation of the whole affair as he poured the glasses. How dare that damn, slimy frog bastard try and touch him! Alfred was bad enough. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his days surrounded by perverts after his body like – like rabid men after a maiden?
Arthur’s face went as red as the wine recalling Alfred’s first attempts with him. Damn that man! Damn all mankind who did not know how to act like a proper gentleman! He seethed with the audacity of it! The disgrace! The – the absolute, utter, undeniable arrogance that man had shown in just about everything he did!
His energy deflated with the suddenness of a popped balloon. Why was he getting so worked up about Alfred? In fact, what was he doing ranting to himself like this? He had wine to serve.
By the time he returned, it sounded as if the two had already settled down, as had Arthur, though he often thought back to his rant and a small wave of depression would wash over him.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [12/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-16 06:08 pm (UTC)(link)The door to the drawing room had been left partially closed. Arthur raised his fist to knock but suddenly halted. Now that he thought about it, what did Alfred talk about with Francis? He knew that they were ‘friends’ – in the loosest sense of the word – but they were not in any business ventures together that would be a cause for them to have such serious discussions.
“You already have what you wanted, mon ami, I think you are pushing your luck,” Francis’ thick tone trickled through the slight crack between door and door post.
“Lady Luck loves me,” Alfred’s boasting could be clearly heard even without pressing an ear to the wood. “Besides, if they choose to play then that’s a risk they take. They just don’t learn.”
Francis sighed. “You already have what you wanted. Don’t provoke them.”
Laughter boomed. Arthur had never heard Alfred laugh as loudly as he did. “Are you worried about me, Francis?”
“I think you are being a fool, that’s all.” Displeasure gave an edge to his voice. “You know how vicious nobles can be, especially when they’re playing games and trust me, mon ami, all of life is a game to them. You already have what you wanted.”
There. Again. Arthur wondered what Francis meant when he kept repeating ‘you already have what you wanted.’ He knew that Alfred gambled – boasted about his good luck in the game – but were they also involved in something shady?
Well, it was none of his business, Arthur obstinately told himself and with that rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open.
“Your wine, sirs,” he announced, curling his tongue around the word ‘sirs’ so that it dripped with sarcasm.
“Arthur?” Alfred’s shock was the first to register in his brain. “I remember asking you to send Emily,” he stood, taking the decanter of wine from him. There was slight anger in his voice, not enough to really be recognisable but just enough to shake Arthur a bit.
“Emily is currently out shopping,” Arthur replied curtly. He did not want to be in the room a moment longer if he was going to be treated with such ingratitude.
Turning on his heels, he marched back to the kitchen, scowling to himself. What was that? Just because he had come instead of Emily was no reason for Alfred to get so upset, surely he was just as good as she was at serving him.
“Git!” he growled at the far wall. He flung a damp tea cloth at it, imagining that it was Alfred’s face.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [12/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-16 11:46 pm (UTC)(link)ILU author anon!
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [12/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-17 12:22 am (UTC)(link)F5F5F5F5F5
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [12/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-21 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Pride goeth before destruction [12/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-22 03:18 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Pride goeth before destruction [13/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-22 05:24 pm (UTC)(link)XX
Arthur was still angry at how Alfred had treated him by the time he was ready to retire. Honestly, there was no reason for Alfred to have looked so upset when all he did was bring them wine instead of Emily.
Okay, so maybe he had eavesdropped on a conversation he should not have heard but how was Alfred to know? Besides he had no clue what they had been talking about, except that it probably involved gambling.
His foul mood was enough reason to throw Alfred out of his room when he entered that night without knocking. That man never had the decency to knock. What if he had been getting undressed?
“Is there something you want?” he snapped.
Alfred closed the door behind him. The click it made sounded a little too loud but Arthur had no time to dwell on that as Alfred silently proceeded to approach him.
“A – Alfred?” he stepped back. “What? Did you get into an argument with that wino again?”
He almost shrieked when Alfred flung his arms around his shoulders, pulling him against his chest. “I don’t feel like going to sleep. Why don’t you play with me?” he whispered suggestively but with none of his usual playfulness.
“...What’s wrong?” Arthur pushed him away.
“I want you to - ”
“Don’t give me that! Why are you acting so strange?” he snapped. This muteness was scaring him a little. He was used to a normal, audacious Alfred, not this quiet, serious one.
“I...okay, I’ll confess everything,” Alfred sighed. “Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m gravely ill. I think...it’s probably fatal.”
Arthur blinked. “...What?” Sickness? Fatal? As much as he hated the man, his heart began to race with fear.
“I...Arthur, I...” Alfred paused for dramatic effect. “...I have love sickness!”
Arthur whacked him around the side of the head so hard that Alfred stumbled back and fell on to the bed. “You bloody git!” he screamed at him, his face turning crimson. From this day forth he swore that he would never, ever believe a single word that man said.
“Don’t be so cruel! Can’t you see that I am dying?” Alfred lay flat against the bed, having his arms in the air as if writhing in pain, though his loud laughter did not help his cause.
“Go die in a ditch, pig!”
Alfred laughter dwindled into chuckles. “Okay, okay, I won’t joke about it anymore, but weren’t you seriously worried?” he asked, sitting up with a smile.
Arthur would ever admit that he was slightly relieved to see him return to his former self. No, he would rather die than admit something like that. “Don’t flatter yourself! If I was worried, it was only because I’d be on the streets if you died,” he retorted.
“You don’t mean that!”
“I do! I definitely do! I can’t wait to be rid of you!” he cried, turning his back on Alfred.
“...Arthur,” he whispered.
“Wh – What is it now?” Arthur turned and, as he did so, found himself smacking straight into Alfred’s chest. The man’s arms descended upon him, trapping him there.
“Arthur,” he whispered, resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder.
“W - What?”
Alfred kissed his ear without reply and Arthur had to briefly wonder why he was letting this git have his way with him again.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [14/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-22 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)“Ah, mon cheri, Arthur!”
Once again, Arthur found himself caught by Francis again as he was making his cleaning rounds.
“How do you always manage to sneak inside?” he snapped. If he did not know better he would have thought that the man actually broke into the manor to do all sorts of lewd things.
“A trade secret,” Francis winked. “Mon ami, Alfred is not home yet?”
“He’s out playing that terrible game he likes so much,” Arthur grumbled. It was worse when Alfred was not in; there was no one to save him this time if Francis decided that his clothes were getting a little too small for him.
However, groping him was something that Francis would settle for later Digging into his breast pocket he produced a piece of paper and handed it to Arthur. “Ah then perhaps I can send you on an errand? It is important that he gets this soon. Here, I will write down directions.”
Arthur grudgingly took the note and excused himself. At least this way there was no chance of being molested. He was disappointed to see, however, that apart from the directions the note Francis had given him was in some sort of code.
“This is definitely shady!” he muttered, pocketing both note and directions as he made his way to the gambling houses.
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [14/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-22 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)I can't wait to read more ♥
go die in a ditch, francis
(Anonymous) 2009-05-22 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)Oh God, cliffhanger. ♥
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [14/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-23 02:32 am (UTC)(link)Re: Pride goeth before destruction [15/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-05-24 10:08 pm (UTC)(link)The current establishment looked more like a whore house without the whores, not that he had ever been to the red light district either!
The doorman was a squat but muscular man with more hairs in his nose than his entire head. Plucking up his courage, he approached him, clearing his throat loudly so that he could be heard over the loud voices coming from within.
“I’m here with a message for Mr Alfred Jones.”
The man fixed him in his sight, scowling as if he resented being forced to do his job. Grumbling under his breath, he hoped from the stool where he had been half-sleeping and unlocked the iron door, leading him into a place with nefariously narrow corridors with purple walls and disgustingly ruddy red carpets stained with alcohol.
“Can’t he gamble in a more refined place,” Arthur hissed under his breath. Stupid Alfred and his stupid habits!
The man brought him along a series of doors. Muffled voices shouted behind the oak, sounds of struggles and even the odd scream made Arthur jump.
“The one on th’ end,” the doorman grunted, thrusting his thumb in the direction of the last door at the end of the corridor before ambling back to his post.
Arthur forgot to thank the man, not that he had really done anything to be thanked. He was too busy staring at the door as though it were a portal to the underworld. This was shady. This was definitely shady.
He chided himself for being so weak. No, he would go in there, march up to that idiot Alfred, and give him a piece of his mind about gambling and how it corrupted the soul or something! His hand as already firmly wrapped around the handle when his courage was suddenly drained by the angry shouts coming from within.
“Damn you Jones! You cheated!”
It figured that someone would be angry with Alfred. That was not what caused him to pause. Though muffled, he knew that voice.
“Don’t be such a sore loser, I never use underhanded tricks,” he could hear the glee on Alfred’s voice.
“Dammit, my entire fortune is riding on this!”
“B – Brother?” Arthur whispered and pressed his ear to the door.
“Maybe you should quit,” Alfred advised.
“Screw you! I’ve already lost this much!”
Yes, his brother had already lost their estates and almost all of their wealth Was that not why they sold him To pay for their debts? Yet now his stupid brother was doing the same thing he had before, only this time they would not be able to sell him again if they got into trouble.
Arthur could hear Alfred sigh. “If you insist.”
“Bastard, is taking my little brother not enough for you?”
“I was under the impression that you didn’t like him. Besides I - ”
There was a loud thud, which sounded distinctly like someone slamming something down on the table.
“Don’t screw with me! This is all your fault! In fact you were the one who suggested we sell him to pay off the money we owed! You said that you would help cover our debts if we did!”
Arthur jerked his head back, his heart thumping. Alfred had really said that? But that was impossible, how had Alfred even been aware of his existence before that day when he had been sold as a slave? Had this whole thing been orchestrated by him? Arthur could not imagine why.
His hands curled into tight fists. He did not know why this sudden realisation hurt him either. It was as if someone had driven a stake into his chest, it was a burning fire that continually seared him without relief. He always knew that man had been rotten, hadn’t he? He always knew that man had been no good.
“What did I ever do to you?” Arthur muttered, turning his back to the door.
*dies at the suspense*
(Anonymous) 2009-05-25 01:15 am (UTC)(link)Arthur! Don't be so mad at Alfred. ♥
Re: Pride goeth before destruction [15/?]
(Anonymous) - 2009-05-25 04:03 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Pride goeth before destruction [15/?]
(Anonymous) - 2009-05-25 06:45 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Pride goeth before destruction [15/?]
(Anonymous) - 2009-05-25 07:08 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Pride goeth before destruction [15/?]
(Anonymous) - 2009-05-25 11:20 (UTC) - Expand