Another quick something with 0 planning because Dotty was doing sexcanons with her 2Ps.
Arthur was uncomfortable. Not the kind of uncomfortable that you can just laugh off, but the kind where your body is warm, and your brain is foggy. It was not a new form of uncomfortable, but he always had trouble dealing with it. Sometimes Arthur could ignore it. Unfortunately, now was not one of those times.
He was in his and Alfred’s room, laying still on the bed and doing his darndest to will away the warmth. It would not subside, though. Groaning to himself, he went lax. Arthur knew he had to relieve himself. And soon, since Alfred had gone to visit Matt earlier. Not knowing when his boyfriend would be back, the redhead took a deep breath to ready himself.
His cheeks were already feverishly hot.
With hesitant fingers, he gingerly pulled his shirt from his torso. It was too hot, and he knew that the heat would only get worse once he… started. Arthur felt the cooler air hit his skin, and it was embarrassing how nice it felt. How free he felt.
Before he dealt with his trousers, the Englishman reached to grab Alfred’s pillow. Bringing it to his fluched face, he inhaled deeply. And moaned. Ashamed at himself, Arthur pushed his face deeper into the cotton. Gosh how he loved his boyfriend’s smell. His scent was more alluring than any flower. Clean, but still mixed with that natural musk men secreted. Arthur did not know why he was so sensitive to smells, but just a whiff of something pleasing made his knees wobble.
Reaching into the pillowcase, he pulled out a black t-shirt. It was large, soft, and reeking of Alfred. Arthur would never admit to stealing one of the American’s shirts. To using it for personal pleasure. No. It was so wrong, and Alfred would think him a fool. Sneaking around like this was his only option. Cluelessness the only escape if Al ever found the shirt stashed in his pillowcase.
Flinging the pillow back in the general direction of the headboard, Arthur clutched the fabric in his hands with a vice grip. Bony knuckles turned to snow as he flopped on his side, breathing in that intoxicating scent. It made his belly flop, and head fuzzy. His groin pulsed, and he didn’t know whether to lock his legs together, or spread them as far as they could go. It was frustrating. Humiliating.
But he wanted it.
Reaching a hand down, he eased the button of his jeans open. Arthur shimmied out of them, getting caught a couple of times because he was moving so jerkily. After those were gone, he was certain you could fry an egg on his face. Frekleled ears were burning, so much that it was a bit painful. Shaking his head, he quickly ripped off his boxers. Like a band-aid.
Just from the feeling he knew he was not fully aroused. Smell can only go so far, even for him. Shakily sitting up, blue eyes peeked down to his… manhood. It was definitely stiffening, but still a little limp. Swallowing, Arthur took it in hand. Touching himself felt so nice, but also confused him in an unpleasant way. It was lewd, against his thoughts and personality, but gosh did it ever feel good. Once the redhead got going, he could forget about everything until he finished himself, but sometimes his nervousness did not let him get that far. Not today, though, and he steeled himself for what was to come.
He stroked, but quickly took his hand away from himself. It didn’t feel right. Then the Briton realized that he forgot the lotion. Feeling stupid, he hung his head for a moment. Taking a breath, he crawled to his nightstand, grabbing the innocent bottle of lotion he kept there for his hands. Getting back into a comfortable position, he squirted some on his hand and wrapped it around himself once more.
Cold! Hissing, Arthur froze for a moment. He always forgot to let it heat up a little first. Arthur felt himself getting softer in his palm, and the fleeting thought that he could just forget about this crossed his mind. But the heat was still stirring around his stomach, crushing his hopes. Once the lotion warmed up, he resumed stroking. And oh, yes.
Yes yes yes.
Honestly, Arthur did not hate masturbating. It was normal to do, but getting to the actual act always made him nervous. Made him feel uneasy, and ridiculous. But it was nice to release some of his pent-up emotions and energy like this. The man squirmed at the wet slapping that seemed to echo around the room, and could not stop the moans from bubbling up his throat, and spilling over his lips.
Biting his bottom lip, he took the shirt in his clean hand to bring to his nose. Heightened senses made the musk even more powerful, and images of Alfred came to the foreground of his mind. Arthur wanted to do these things with his boyfriend. Not every day, but sometimes would be nice. To pleasure the man he loves like this. Make him feel such ecstasy. His face open and easy to read, instead of hidden behind the barriers he had secured around himself. The thought ached in his heart. He wanted to make Alfred happy, and be assured that he was doing well.
Arthur’s imagination began to take over. Another heated body against his own. Sweat and arousal filling the air, turning him into a mess. But Alfred was a mess beside him. All flustered and confused and clumsy. Knowing exactly what to do in his head, but unable to physically preform the motions with as much perfection as he thought. It was endearing, and he would huff in frustration, doing everything he could to make sure he never hurt Arthur. Treating the redhead like his pale skin was actually spotted porcelain. Touching him experimentally, like he’d pop if he were prodded too hard.
The pressure in his belly was growing. Arthur pumped himself at his own pace, fondling his balls when he wanted. Buried in dark cotton, his nose tried to keep inhaling steadily. Which was difficult, because he needed to pant and gasp to keep himself conscious. His heart was racing, pounding against his chest so hard it would surely leave a bruise. Fleetingly, the Englishman wondered if this was how Alfred felt when he masturbated. Did he think of Arthur? Imagine them together, nude and moving along one another? The deepest part of him prayed that he did.
Everything was building up inside of him. Arthur never lasted long. Never needed to build up his stamina since he did not indulge himself often. Which was okay with him, since he generally wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. It felt amazing, but any longer and it would only be an annoyance. His breathing was ragged, throat dry and scratchy, and whimpers pleading for release.
There was nothing like the sensation of an orgasm. The world disappearing for that split second of undeniable pleasure. In the end, Arthur always felt that moment was worth all of the hassle beforehand. And maybe when…. if he and Alfred had sex, it would be even more intense. Lasting longer, and satisfying to no end. Maybe… he could bring that subject up sometime.
Now that he was finished, his body began to cool rapidly. So much that he shivered. Instinctively Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, twitching as his biceps brushed hardened nipples. Then he noticed that his right hand was wet, and snatched it away from his side to embarrassedly look upon smeared lotion and come. Squeaking, he scrambled from the bed, making sure not to touch anything with his dirtied hand. Rushing to the door, he flung it open and made a beeline for the bathroom.
Arthur did not notice the perplexed American standing near the entrance of the hallway, watching as his red-faced, naked boyfriend tripped into the bathroom to immediately turn on the shower.
You just had to go and make the most awkward bunch of fuckers, didn’t you Dotty? They just can’t do sexy if they’re in character. It’s all a bundle of confusion and embarrassment and clumsyness and gosh I couldn’t even write words like cock and dick or go into detail because they would ruin the unsexy mood! How even did you do that my gosh.
Anyway, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
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