His Hagaren Heart

Stay - Part 5/5 - [[USUK]]

Title: Stay - Part 5/5 - [[USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: In desperate need to keep his apartment with Arthur and to sort out his feelings for him, Alfred takes up a job at a strip joint. He only prays that it won't affect his emotions or his sanity...


Arthur blinked, shutting his laptop and setting down his teacup while he repeated, “Take my… clothes off?”

“Yeah,” Alfred nodded, wobbling slightly when he stepped forward and shut the door behind him with his foot. Damn, his backside was still sore from the beating it had taken early, which hindered his movements and caused him to appear even more intoxicated than he already was. He whimpered and leaned against the wall, barely making eye contact with the other and continuing to clutch the strange array of items in his arms. “Let’s, you know, let’s have sex - fuck, make love, whatever you want to call it.”

Of course, Arthur’s face immediately went red at that notion, and he forgot the comment he was going to make on the Alfred’s behavior.  He was now distracted by something much more intense. After all, he was a teenaged boy being prompted by his love interest for physical pleasure, how in the world could he focus on anything else?

“… Really?”


“And you went out and bought those things just for us?”

“I did,” Alfred said, nodding his head more vigorously than the first time. He squeezed his armful of items more closely to his body for emphasis. His knees wobbled and knocked together, a rather pathetic action that he hoped could pass as a result of excitement. He licked his lips. “Please, Arthur?”

The Briton didn’t need to be asked again, quickly moving from the table to the door and kissing seemingly flawless young man in front of him. It wasn’t until they were entering the bedroom, side by side, that he began to recognize a flaw, a part that was off. It was a taste in his mouth, a taste from the recent kiss. The flavor was a distinctly alcoholic one, only reminding and deepening his previous suspicions in regards to Alfred’s voice. He winced, not wanting to ruin the moment, though understanding that this couldn’t be left unquestioned. It was his duty as a good boyfriend to be certain that nothing was amiss, for it could have a devastating effect on them both.
“Have you been drinking tonight?” he asked, allowing himself to be pushed down onto the nearest futon once Alfred had closed the bedroom door. “Because you--”

“I drank at the liquor store, yeah.  The sales clerk kind of talked me into it… I had just come from the pharmacy with the condoms and lube in my hands, and he said that if I wanted to ‘get it on’ with someone tonight, I had better loosen up, so… I bought a couple beers there and drank them before buying the wine and leaving,” he lied, shrugging. Yes, he had admitted that he was drunk, and, no, he hadn’t admitted how it actually happened. However, the fact that he was telling false stories to his boyfriend failed to bother him in his current state, where all that mattered was him being away from that damn club, and being together with Arthur, instead.

“Oh,” Arthur said, feeling a bit confused at the explanation and yet choosing to brush it off for now. There were much more important things to be concerned with, like how Alfred was already taking his pants and shirt off, revealing skin that was vaguely tinged with sweat.  He raised a single thick brow and reached out to graze his fingers over the other’s bared shoulders, asking, “And you’re sure that you’re all right? I don’t want you straining yourself after a night of work.”

I don’t want you rushing through this, either. This is supposed to be special.

Arthur chose not to voice these thoughts, and he couldn’t even if he wished to, as Alfred’s mouth was soon covering his, a strong kiss silencing him. The action held so many emotions, almost too many, which ranged from frustration to passion. When they eventually broke away, panting, the taller blonde whispered, “ I’m fine. We’re fine, okay?”

“… Okay,” he replied with a positive shake of his head, diving in for another kiss that led to them rolling around on the futon, Alfred’s items left abandoned on the floor. It was an almost mindless frenzy from there. They scrambled around together, loudly smacking lips and picking off their clothes down to the last pair of boxers. When their naked, heated flesh began to create too much friction between them, they broke apart, allowing them to take a breather and for Arthur to playfully pester, “Give me some of that wine. It’s not fair that you’re the only one with a buzz. And I’m turning on the radio - I don’t want us making any embarrassing sounds that the neighbors can hear.”

Chuckling and sticking his tongue out, Alfred fumbled over the side of the futon for the bottle of alcohol in question while Arthur fussed with the radio on their shared nightstand. Upon locating the wine, he noticed that it was still rather chill from being in the cold air on the walk home from the joint… Wait, wait a minute… He had stolen that bottle of wine from the joint, he had stolen from Sir! And it wasn’t just that, it was the condoms and lubricant, too, damn it! Oh, God, it didn’t help that the station the radio had been adjusted to was one that oozed pop music, consisting of remixes and fast-paced beats that were normally play in… strip clubs.

He gulped, and his hand went limp as Arthur snatched away the unopened bottle.

Arthur took a few good swigs from the bottle, too busy downing the alcohol to observe Alfred and his suddenly-jittered frame. The bottle was eventually drawn away from his lips, taken by the other for a few good swigs of his own. Fuck, he desperately needed his thoughts to be clouded and free of any worry about the joint…

“You want to top, right?” Arthur asked, his voice tinged with a slur, as he was a lightweight when it came to drinking. Nevertheless, he still had his senses and was quite aware of the situation. He smiled when he received a nod in reply, leaning over to kiss him once more and saying, “I trust you, Alfred, love. I trust you so much.”

“I know… Thank you. I, I’m glad that I’m here with you,” he murmured softly. His mind went blank after that, focused only on Arthur’s body beneath him and how himself was moving, breathing, living this experience. He had wanted this for too long.

With the wine pushed aside, Alfred started on his task of preparing Arthur, making his fingers slick with the lubricant and inserting his index first. Hey, at least he had learned something from the joint. He worked it in and out carefully, having to push up to get at the proper angle, as they had wordlessly decided to use the missionary position. He waited a good minute or so before slipping in a second and third finger inside, the quiet squeals he heard serving to be his encouragement. Another couple minutes of stretching and he was unable to hold back any longer, his erection absolutely aching and the Briton feeling loosened enough. He took a condom from the box, put it on, and covered it
with a generous smearing of the lubricant.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes… Nngh… A-Ah, Alfred!”

Arthur bit his lower lip and nodded, forcing himself to keep quiet while Alfred pushed in deeper, having stopped for only a short time to ask if his partner was all right before continuing. For him, it hurt. It hurt because this was his first time, however, he believed that it would soon become less painful and more pleasurable. It had to. They were a sturdy couple and this was the best thing for them! He began to shift his lower half in ways that hoped would help to stretch and ease the burning sensation - unfortunately, these actions were performed at the same time that hovering young man chose to thrust. Now that, that truly hurt. He let out a weak moan and reached up to grab at the muscular shoulders above him. His palms were sweaty, face flushed and his own erection tight against by Alfred’s stomach.

On the other end of this, Alfred couldn’t be enjoying himself more. How liberating this was, to be in control of the sex he was having! He wasn’t made to be on the bottom, he wasn’t putting on a ‘show’ for anyone, and he was with someone who he honestly cared for! These thoughts only fed his appetite to thrust and seek satisfaction, any regard for Arthur’s physical being momentarily abandoned. Ah, yes, he was free now, he didn’t have to worry about everything that was wrong with his life! He was--!

Less than five minutes in, he came. Not only did he have a sexual climax, but he additionally had an emotional one as the world seemed to come crashing down around him. There was too much at once within his burdened mind. It all seemed to be over, he was losing it.

“Arthur,” he croaked, abruptly pulling out and lacking affection in his gaze. He rolled to the side, off the futon and on his hands and knees, gasping, “I have to… have to tell you something.”

Blinking and utterly confused, Arthur grumbled, “Ah… go on then?”

He didn’t have the foggiest idea as to what Alfred so desperately needed to tell him, and while acting in such a strange way, as well! What, was he going to declare his love for him? Their sex had suddenly ended and now there was going to be a confession of some sort? His expression was one of sheer weariness.

Then, his jaw dropped in shock the instant the explanation began. He wished he could have covered his ears and screamed, he couldn’t fathom what he was hearing even in his wildest dreams. The reality behind Alfred’s life in the past week was amazing, disgusting.

“Is that why you’ve been so tired? Because you’re busy running around getting drunk and giving strip teases!?”

“N-No! I just… just, try to understand. I didn’t know what to do, and the opportunity was there. It made sense to me.”

“You’re out of your bloody fucking mind! That doesn’t make sense, and you should have told me!”

“If I had told you, then you wouldn’t have let me do it and I would have no money to live here with you!”

Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system, or perhaps it was the stress of the situation, but the desire to get up and leave overwhelmed him. He stood on shaky feet, ignoring Arthur’s growling demands for him to return and finish their conversation. No, he needed to be anywhere other than here. It was the joint all over again.

He walked to his pile of clothing from earlier, yanking each article on in a sloppy manner. He was shaking his head the entire time, and didn’t stop until he heard Arthur’s voice for the last time that night.

“If you leave now,” he said, swallowing and skin more pale than usual, “I’ll never forgive you. Please, come sit and talk with me… Stay.”

They exchanged glances, aquamarine to emerald, and not another word was spoken as Alfred exited the bedroom, turning his back to the one person that could save him.

Directly outside of the apartment, where he remained for a few seconds prior to moving onto the streets, Alfred was cold and alone. Although, he wouldn’t be for long, soon finding company that made his body ripe with a nervous heat.

“Alfred,” Sir huffed, grabbing the startled young man by his nearest forearm, his thick jacket flapping with the movement. He had been lurking around the apartment complex ever since he realized that he had been robbed by one of his lowest whores. He knew exactly where this little troublemaker lived and exactly how he was going to punish him. He didn’t even bother hiding his automatic pistol, immediately sticking it under his victim’s jaw. Ha, he loved how those stupid features became engulfed by fear! “I’ve been lookin’ for ya, ya thievin’ slut… See, ya broke the most important rule tonight. Never, ever piss. Me. Off.”

The gunshot roused Arthur from his angry state, bringing him out into the streets to find the lonely corpse of someone who needed saving.

Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~
His Hagaren Heart

Stay - Part 4/5 - [[USUK]]

Title: Stay - Part 4/5 - [[USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: In desperate need to keep his apartment with Arthur and to sort out his feelings for him, Alfred takes up a job at a strip joint. He only prays that it won't affect his emotions or his sanity...


“You’re so handsome and kind, you know.”


“No, you really are, love. Please believe it, and please stop frowning.”

Alfred heaved a sigh, leaning in to kiss the other and whispering, “I’m sorry. You’re just so good to me, and I don’t deserve it… But, yeah, I’ll stop frowning now.”

With their previous conversation involving how the rest of the world viewed them, he then forced his facial expression to change, twitching the corners of his lips upward for a small smile. He hoped that it could be mistaken for something bigger, as they were currently laying together on his futon in their darkened bedroom. It was late Tuesday afternoon, and the two of them had basically spent the entire day lazing around in the futon - such ‘lazing around’ had included watching funny cat videos on YouTube using Arthur’s laptop, eating chocolate chip cookies from a bag for both breakfast and lunch, and kissing or feeling each other up at random intervals. Today hadn’t exactly been productive.

And speaking of random intervals of touching, Arthur was doing it to him again. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t allow it right now.

“Nngh… We can’t, I have to leave for work soon,” Alfred said weakly, not wanting to fight the delicious feeling of his boyfriend’s hand between his legs, rubbing and squeezing at his half-hard length beneath his boxers. He groaned. “M-Maybe when I get home, I think my boss said that I only have to stay until ten.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to suck you off real quick? You’re stressed, and I bet you would feel better,” Arthur told him with a firm nod as he raised his head up to peck him on the cheek. The speed and strength of his rubbing and squeezing increased.

Resisting the urge to groan for a second time, Alfred rolled off the futon and stood, saying, “I’m sure. And I’m also sure that we’ll have some fun when I get back tonight… Okay?”

Arthur murmured in agreement, and watched silently as the other went to dress himself and comb at his ruffled locks. He curled up on the futon, his smoldering emerald green gaze upon him. This is what he enjoyed about their relationship the most - they could spend almost an entire day chattering away at one another, and then slip into a comfortable silence without the slightest hint of awkwardness. No, they were perfectly at ease, perfectly at ease to wordlessly stare. He suppressed a laugh at how creepy that may have sounded to someone else, and continued to stare when Alfred exited the bedroom for the bathroom.

In the bathroom, after brushing his teeth and cleaning his glasses, Alfred habitually took one aspirin pill for the night at the joint ahead of him. He swallowed the little white tablet and waited. When he felt it sliding past his throat, he reopened the bottle and took one more. Just in case. He didn’t know what ‘case’ there could possibly be, however, he even contemplated taking a third dose, his thoughts abruptly broken by Arthur speaking.

“Call me before you come home, all right? I don’t want to be asleep when you get here,” he said, his voice growing louder as he himself moved from the bedroom to the bathroom, embracing Alfred when he entered. His bare chest and flannel boxers were so snug against him, that Alfred didn’t want to let go and returned the embrace at full force. They breathed out in contentment. “… You be careful out there, I’ll be waiting for you to call.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have phone out as soon as I’m done with work,” Alfred replied, finally managing to release his loving hold on Arthur. He said a brief goodbye, grabbed his wallet from the kitchen, and walked out the front door. It wasn’t raining outside, but it certainly was in his heart. He was dreading this night, and the idea that he would be acting like a slut for some rich man he didn’t know when he could be cuddled with his dear, sweet boyfriend under a blanket in their room made him sick to his stomach. Or perhaps that was the aspirin causing his insides to churn? Whatever, he didn’t care about much at this point. His sole concern was making money to stay with Arthur.


“… Alfred F. Jones.”

“… Matthew Williams.”

The two stared at one another after introducing themselves, blinking. They had met in the joint’s changing room, in the back where their matching outfits for tonight’s performance had been lain out. It was odd enough that they had arrived at precisely the same time, and even odder that they... well, they looked alike. They both wore glasses, had blonde hair and blue eyes - though the shades varied -, and were around the same height. The only major difference between them was their voices and their builds, Alfred being more muscular while Matthew was simply slim. They continued to blink, silently realizing that this Mr. Bonnefoy guy most likely has a thing for incest or something. Ew.

“… So, uhm, I guess we better get dressed, eh?” Matthew said awkwardly, turning his head away from him, no longer having the desire to make eye contact with the kid he might have to take it up the ass from later tonight.

“Yeah,” Alfred agreed, also turning his head away, shifting his gaze down toward their outfits lain out on the table in front of them, each set having their name pinned to it. As he tore off the paper with his name, he glanced the outfit over, which seemed standard enough - tight black shorts, black suspenders with silver buckles, a sparkling white scarf, and a pair of lacquered high heels. Wait, what!? He immediately shared his disbelief with Matthew, telling him, “I can’t wear heels, damn it! I’m tall enough as it is! Besides, I don’t know how to walk them or anything…”

Matthew shrugged, “You’ll get into trouble with Sir if you don’t wear them. But maybe you can get off on the whole ‘I’ve never worn them before’ thing, and if you’re on your best behavior tonight. Still, if you do get into trouble, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He himself then began to strip out of his street clothes, a red hoodie and jeans, donning the scandalous clothing, heels and all, while basically ignoring the other. When the last buckle of his suspenders had been adjusted, he trotted over to one of the vanity stands - how in the world did he walk so perfectly in those pointy things!? - to do his makeup and hair. And when Alfred had managed to scramble into his outfit, having switched out the heels for a pair of black ankle boots, he beckoned him over to the vanity stand, since he had been told that this kid had yet to learn the proper beautifying techniques. He sighed inwardly as he fought with twitching lips and eyelids when he applied the necessary glosses and shades. He finished both of them off by spraying a good dose of strangely musky, vanilla-like cologne over their chests.

“Ready, Alfred?”

“Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

The room which they had been told to go to, one of the ‘V.I.P.’ rooms that was off to the side of the main dance floor and no bigger than the bedroom at the apartment, was lit by several smoky purple lights along the wall, and was absolutely littered with alcohol. There were cases of beer and rum at the minibar in the back, bottles of vodka on the single cherry wood table, and a glass of red wine in the hand of their patron for the night. The glass was raised to a set of thin lips, lips that curled into a sly smile after a sip that drained the remaining contents.

“Ah, mon peu fleurit, I’ve been expecting you… Alfred and Matthew, I presume? You may call me Francis. Actually, I insist that you call me that. I paid a high price to have the two of you all to myself, you had better heed my word,” Francis said in a fairly snobby tone. Though he wasn’t a creepy old man, he was, nevertheless, creepy. The sly smile on his lips abruptly morphed into a grin when the young men displayed their understanding through nods. “Now then…  Matthew, you pretty little thing, come sit on my lap. Alfred, bring me more wine.”

From where he had been hovering around the center of the room like a hawk, Francis took a seat in the overstuffed leather armchair near the table, placing his emptied glass on its surface. He waited with an expectant gaze, absently stroking at his scruff of a beard and tossing back his long locks of hair. Alfred disliked this man and his arrogance, disliked his accent, the nasally sound nothing like Arthur’s melodic one - although, he would admit that he was glad to have the man be taking a greater liking to Matthew than himself. The less attention he received the better. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the other went to perch in Francis’ lap, crossing his legs in a shy manner as his chin was lifted with the left hand and his thighs teased at with the right. A pink tint swept over his cheeks when Francis began to speak again.

“Mm, you’re so sweet and smooth, Matthew,” he told him, running a hand up and down the bare leg he found. The hand at his chin lifted it further, so that they were eye level. “Did I mention how nice it is to have you alone with me? Come now, give me a kiss.”

While they were busy locking lips, Alfred went on with his given task, glad that Francis had seemed to have taken a greater liking to Matthew. Whew, perhaps it was for the better that he hadn’t worn the heels, and that he had yet to shave his legs, despite Sir telling him to do so last night, to be ‘smooth’ like Matthew? It certainly seemed that way. He could handle playing servant, though he doubted his abilities when it came to playing sex kitten for a man he had no interest in. Tch, in fact, he was quite disgusted by--

“Alfred? Where’s that wine?” Francis’ voice interrupted his thoughts, along with the loud snapping noise he was making with his fingers. He patted the other, unoccupied side of his lap when Alfred returned with the freshly-filled glass of wine, commanding, “Sit. No need to raise your brow, I can hold the both of you. Sit.”

Alfred obeyed the order, Francis accepted the wine, and Matthew was prompted to entertain him with some idle chatter. It was in the middle of Matthew explaining something about the joint, Alfred attempting to adjust himself in the awkward position, when Francis abruptly interrupted him, asking with bright eyes, “Are you saying that you and Alfred don’t see each other much? That you just met tonight?”

The two young men shared an uncertain hum before they were shoved out of Francis’ lap by eager hands, his eyes still bright and the grin that had formed even brighter. He laughed, “Well, that won’t do! Things won’t be as fun if we’re not all properly acquainted, no? Here…”

Continuing to sit in the armchair, he reached over to the table that held the bottles of vodka, setting his wine glass amongst them and then rummaging through the built-in drawer below. From it, he drew a small tub of lubricant and a box of condoms, each item tossed to Matthew, who caught it bearing an expressionless face.

“Matthew, be a dear and bend Alfred over - fuck him, get to know him, and give me a show. Isn’t multitasking lovely?”

“No way!” was Alfred’s instant reaction, pouting and clenching his hands into fists. He understood that he had been given previous notice of this type of occurrence, and that he shouldn’t fight it, but it just wasn’t fair! “I’ve got a boyfriend and, and if he ever found out that I was cheating on him, I… Besides, I was supposed to have my first time with him and--”

Francis’ scoff cut him short, “Oh? I was supposed to have you two in the palm of my hand for the evening. And guess what? I’m paying nearly one-thousand dollars an hour for this, so you had better suck it up and stick that tight ass of yours in the air. Now.”

The flare in his gaze shifted to a deadly one, and he went on to proclaim threats of Sir’s interference until Alfred was on his hands and knees against the plush carpet of the floor, shorts off and backside raised while Matthew worked behind him. He was nervous and guilt-stricken and actually quite frightened, traits that made the experience all the more painful for him, unfortunately. One finger inside him soon became two, which soon became three, and eventually became Matthew’s entire length, hardened by Francis’ touches, thrusting in and out of him. It hurt, it burned, damn it - and when they finished some five minutes later, bare skin completely flushed, he prayed that what he felt running between his inner thighs was semen and not blood.

Nothing, not alcohol, praise on his managed feisty behavior from Sir, or his pay later that night, could make him feel any better after his time spent with Matthew and Francis. Except maybe Arthur. Maybe. He was drunk at the end of his shift, causing him to make the poor decision of stealing one of the joint’s finest bottles of wine, along with the box of condoms and tub of lubricant from the V.I.P. room he had been in. What’s more, he failed to call Arthur prior to his return. This led to him making quite an unexpected entrance, stumbling through the front door and arms full of odd items, Arthur startled from where he sat at the kitchen table. A weary smile lit Alfred’s face.

“Go take your clothes off, babe.”


Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~
His Hagaren Heart

Stay - Part 3/5 - [[USUK]]

Title: Stay - Part 3/5 - [[USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: In desperate need to keep his apartment with Arthur and to sort out his feelings for him, Alfred takes up a job at a strip joint. He only prays that it won't affect his emotions or his sanity...


The following morning, Alfred sat up from his futon, and lurched.

After successfully fighting back the urge to vomit, most likely the result of last night’s alcohol and disgusting patrons, he noticed several things - the most prominent one was that it was raining, the pitter-patter of heavy raindrops could be heard against the room’s one window, thunder rolling in the distance. Beyond that, he began to become aware of the small, significant things that surrounded him, such as the glass of water that had been placed beside his futon. And how his glasses had comfortably been removed in his sleep. And how the pillow
and blanket that he had forgotten last night had been added to his futon.


Once he was certain that his stomach was steady, he stood and slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and into the bathroom. He took the longest piss he had in months - again, the alcohol was to blame - and then shed his clothes to hop in the shower. Drinking the water from the showerhead, the fact that he had a glass of fresh water in the bedroom slipping his mind, and cloaking himself in the steam, the ache in both his head and stomach gradually subsided. Hangovers were terrible, although certainly not as terrible as the sweat that clung to his skin from last night’s activities. He shuddered, and used the remainder of the body wash in the bottle, reveling in its musky scent and clean sensation. The same went for the shampoo and conditioner for his hair.

When he exited the shower and dried himself off, the towel was placed around his waist while he blinked at the mirror and contemplated brushing his teeth. Eh, they were white enough, however, he disliked the current taste on his palette. With that, he simply chose to squirt a glob of toothpaste on his tongue, swirl it around in his mouth, and rinse it out with water from the sink. Minty fresh.

He was surprised that by the time he had reentered the bedroom and had begun to dress himself, towel abandoned on the floor, Arthur still had yet to come over and check on him. Oh, well, he needed to go into the kitchen, anyway and--

Knock, knock, knock!

“Are you decent, Alfred?”

Well, speak of the devil. He chuckled inwardly and perked his head in the direction of the door from where he stood at his dresser, deciding that his Superman print boxers and his glasses could pass for ‘decent’. He called out, his voice seeming loud and echoing throughout the apartment, “Yeah, come in.”

Arthur opened the door and stepped inside, glancing his boyfriend up and down before saying, “Rough first day at work? Here, I brought you some breakfast, even if it’s already noon...”

He stretched out his right hand, which was holding two Poptarts on a plate, the long sleeve of his flannel pajama shirt sliding down with the movement. He was quite the contrast to Alfred, his entire body covered by the pastel blue fabric of his pajamas while the young man across from him was clad in nothing but his underwear. They briefly smiled at one another.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not very hungry,” he said truthfully, putting a hand over his stomach without thinking about it. Trotting away from his dresser and toward his futon, he took a seat on the edge of it, sighing. “And, yeah, it was a pretty rough first day. Definitely worth it, though, since the money I’m making helps me to stay here with you.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, the earlier smile returning. It broadened upon watching the other set the plate on the floor and join him on the edge of his futon. Their fingers were soon entwined, Arthur’s toes curling as Alfred’s free arm wrapped around him and pulled his face against the upper part of his bare chest. They sat in silence for a good minute, listening to the sounds of the rain and their mixed breathing.

Arthur was the first to speak, raising his head, “Are you sure this job won’t be too hard on you? I know it’s to keep us together, I just don’t want you exhausting yourself, especially once school starts.”

“I’m fine, it was only the first day. I’ll be used to it in no time. Don’t worry, I’ll figure out how to juggle my job and school and… you,” Alfred said with a kiss added to that pale cheek below him on the last word. “School’s supposed to be my top priority, blah, blah, but I can’t stop thinking about how good it feels to hug you, even if you have those insanely thick pajamas on…”

“Oh, shut it.”

“Make me.”

Their lips met hard and fast, Alfred falling backward onto the futon and pulling Arthur on top of him for easier access, both arms tight around the slim torso he found while equally slim fingers locked themselves around the back of his neck. Once they were perfectly adjusted in their new position, Alfred could have sworn that Arthur had secretly plotted to startle and arouse him simultaneously - he tasted his playful tongue, heard his husky groans, and felt his shifting hips. Damn, things were moving quick, not that he minded… Less than five minutes into their little romp, he had moved one hand beneath Arthur’s shirt, rubbing his lower back, the other tugging at the hem of his own boxers. He gave an involuntary whimper and broke their kiss.

“Nngh… ‘m hard, an’ my boxers are killin’ me,” he murmured in a strained voice, already beginning to tug the hem completely past his waistline. He craved relief and freedom, glad to see that Arthur had that same yearning look above him, his gaze bright. He whimpered a second time and added, “Fuck, take your pants off.”

“So crude,” Arthur teased with a blush. That blush deepened in color as he obeyed the command and carefully slipped out of his pajama bottoms and boxers, their plaid pattern draping over the heroic one of Alfred’s boxers that were already on the floor at this point. He, of course, had done this carefully so that they wouldn’t, well, touch. Not instantly. He smiled shakily, his lower half raised above the other, and asked an open-ended question, “Can I…?”

Alfred nodded, “Yeah, you can. As long as I can…?”

“You can,” Arthur replied, resting his hips against the other’s and shuddering when he was pulled in by the collar of his shirt for another passionate kiss. Although, the kiss failed to distract him for long, their right hands meeting below their aligned waists and gripping one another’s erections. He groaned and noticed Alfred doing the same when they began to move their hands, both of them starting from the base and working upward. Arthur dwelled longer at Alfred’s base - he was huge, and bloody thick, too! - and was in the middle of running his fingers along a particular, throbbing vein when he felt himself absolutely melt on the spot. The very tip of his erection was being squeezed between Alfred’s thumb and index finger, and he gasped at the tight pleasure. The kiss was broken, a hot string of saliva creating a bridge between their mouths. “Oh… that feels so good. More, Al-Alfred…!”

Alfred happily obliged, continuing to focus on that particular spot of Arthur’s erection. He didn’t even mind that the other had halted his touches in his moment of ecstasy, though he was thrilled when those thin, pale fingers resumed their task - Arthur’s hand was still focused on his base, where he was pumping roughly against the heated flesh, brushing through tufts of course blonde hair with each movement. He had to silently agree with the previous statement that this felt so good. This is exactly what he needed, the relief and comfort of his boyfriend after a night of filthy sexual frustration with strangers. When the customers at the joint had groped at him, he hadn’t dared to return their creepy affections, and had been left with a horrendous amount of pent-up energy. Now, thankfully, he was able to release that energy… Fuck, speaking of releasing…!

“Uhn, Arthur,” he moaned the other’s name at his climax a little more than a minute later. He arched himself up with a quick thrust and could have sworn he saw stars, the semen initially landing on his stomach before beginning to slide in between his legs. A second groan escaped him, his hand dropping away from Arthur while he said, “Sorry…”

Panting, Arthur simply shook his head, the excitement of feeling Alfred release soon bringing him to his own climax. A few good strokes with his hand and a mirrored downward thrust sent him spilling over the edge. He collapsed on the warm body beneath him after a shudder and a swift wiping of his hand on the futon’s sheets. He was exhausted, delightfully exhausted, in fact, and he knew that Alfred was the same. He smiled into his chest.

Eventually, he raised his head and whispered, “That was not appropriate for a relationship as new as ours. But I really don’t give a damn.”

Alfred chuckled in agreement, “Yeah… I don’t really care about anything right now, to be honest. Well, except for you, I mean.”

He pulled Arthur forward then, aquamarine irises meeting emerald ones when they had realigned themselves. It was fantastic to be in this moment, to not give a damn, to not care. The pressure of school starting, the stress of his ‘job’, the clothes he had left lying in the bathroom, the fresh stickiness on his lower half - it was one giant list of things he wanted to drown. Quite like how the rain was currently doing to their apartment.

A sigh blew past his lips and he kept Arthur close, resisting the urge to sob and tell him everything.


Alfred had been told to come into work was the following Monday, which left him with only one day of downtime. But, hey, he figured that Monday would have less unnerving patrons to attend to since it was during the week. Oh, how wrong he was, the damn joint almost seemed busier than Saturday night! He was occupied with everything from cleaning up broken glass that had been the result of a bar fight, to having an older woman squeeze him through his apron for a twenty-dollar tip. Ugh.

The very end of his shift was the most terrible of all, as he was called into the back room by Sir.

“You, uhm… wanted to see me, Sir?” he asked hesitantly when he was fully inside the small, smokey room. They were alone in the silent room, and he worried that his fairly frantic heartbeat could be heard. The door was shut behind him, and he leaned against it, refusing to move closer unless instructed to. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and awaited a response.

Sir nodded, remaining in his chair and merely looked the fearful young man over, telling him, “Ya got a shift tomorrow at six. It’s a very special shift that ya better not fuck up. See… one of our wealthier customers, Mr. Bonnefoy, wants a private show from ya - he’s seen ya from afar and likes what ya got. He’s payin’ me a lot for this so I need you to behave… Flirt, move that body right, and wear a good costume.”

“I understand,” Alfred said quickly, a reaction caused by watching the pudgy man place a hand near his hip, where he knew the weapon was. He swallowed and hoped that he would be set loose after having been agreeable.

“Quit lookin’ so nervous,” Sir suddenly spat at him. He made a disgusted face and waggled a finger at him. “Ya better not act like this tomorrow night. Tch, besides, ya won’t even be alone, there’ll be another dancer performin’ with ya. His name’s Matthew, and Mr. Bonnefoy has taken a likin’ to him, too. He’ll probably have the two of you fuck or somethin’ along those lines, so don’t be upset when that comes up tomorrow night. Ya understand that?”

Wait, what? No! Arthur was supposed to be the first male he had sex with! And who knew if this Matthew person had any diseases, yuck! How much worse can this place get…?

Alfred had to force his jaw not to drop at this frightening information. Instead, he averted his gaze to the floor, clenched his hands into fists, and murmured, “I do.”


Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~
His Hagaren Heart

Stay - Part 2/5 - [[USUK]]

 Title: Stay - Part 2/5 - [[USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: In desperate need to keep his apartment with Arthur and to sort out his feelings for him, Alfred takes up a job at a strip joint. He only prays that it won't affect his emotions or his sanity...


“Alfred, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to and--” Arthur was cut off from his apology by a returned, slightly-sloppier kiss from Alfred. His eyes went wide with shock and he drew a breath when the contact was ended, questioning him, “Why did you do that? Well, I suppose you could ask the same of me, but… Why?”

Alfred was so ecstatic from what had just happened, he barely heard the question, much less was able to think up a proper answer. Oh, God, what in the world was he going to do, to say? All he managed was a blink and a dry squeak from the back of his throat, his mind demanding to know if this was a dream or not. What with the way his lips were tingling from the kisses and how Arthur stood there before him, bearing that adorable look of bewilderment, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was still asleep and only imagining such fantastic possibilities.

Yet, upon reaching forward to cup Arthur’s cheek, he found nothing but tangible skin and flesh. Warm skin and flesh heated by a blush. He smiled.

“I… don’t know. I mean, I do know, I was just so happy that you kissed me first and…” Alfred paused, biting down on his lower lip and pausing for a moment of thought. It was a rare feat for him, attempting to think when he was nervous, as he usually allowed himself to babble away - indeed, he was quite nervous, made even more so with the distance between them still minimal and Arthur displaying no signs of backing off anytime soon. The shorter boy only looked eager. He swallowed a bit and shook his head, deciding that this was the critical part of his perfect arrangement that he had been waiting for, “I like you, Arthur, really, I like you in a way that’s more than friendly. Ever since you told me that you were, uhm, into guys back in the tenth grade, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell myself that… And how to tell you that.”

His words made him feel childish, now bearing a blush of his own, although he went on with his explanation, “With us living together, the timing for this seems pretty damn great, huh? Not that I’m one to talk, you started this, you kissed me… Does that mean you like me, too?”

Arthur laughed, an anxious, excited laugh, and told him, “Of course that’s what it means, don’t be silly… And stop staring at me like that, I promise that I’m telling the truth here. I like you, too, Alfred, I honestly do…”


Over the next two days or so, things were a bit odd between them, which was certainly understandable. Going from best friends to boyfriends was a major transition, a sometimes awkward, sometimes passionate transition.

This new relationship skipped past the usual business of becoming better acquainted with one another - they had known each other for over seven years, what in the world else was there to find out? - and left them fumbling on what to do next. The kissing was a small, obvious step, they easily worked it into their everyday lives, sharing random pecks over lunch or giving an appreciative smooch for miscellaneous acts such as helping with chores or mumbling compliments that were attempts at being romantic. The kissing was simple enough, that was true, it was the deeper pieces of a physical intimacies that were a challenge for them. And the hand-holding. Fuck, the hand-holding was complicated, especially for Alfred.

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed, you know,” Arthur told him during dinner on Saturday evening, his right hand having shifted under the table to seek out Alfred’s. He raised one thick eyebrow when there was no immediate response, the fork in his other hand gathering more macaroni from his plate and bringing it up to his mouth for a bite. He chewed and swallowed before continuing, “Are you embarrassed of me, even though we’re alone? Is that why your hand is always sweaty?”

He sent the boy beside him a gentle glare, and it was met with a blush. An extremely frustrated-looking blush.

“I’m not exactly used to holding hands. It’s weird for me, I mean, it’s nice, but it still feels kinda funny,” Alfred explained, laying his fork on the edge of his plate and moving his now-free hand to rub the back of his head.

“What about those girls you dated in high school? Didn’t you ever hold their hands?” Arthur asked, genuinely curious at this point. In no way was he poking fun at him, he merely wished to comprehend how someone such as Alfred, generally calm and able to come off as suave, could be ruffled by hand-holding. Since he obviously wasn’t an innocent, virgin of a schoolgirl, why was he acting like one? He stared and awaited a response.

Alfred sighed, shaking his head, “You know that I didn’t ‘date’ those girls. They were just random flings - there wasn’t much beyond the sex, we hardly even talked… Not that I minded. Things just, uhm, weren’t very touchy-feely. Not that I mind things being touchy-feely, either!”
He shook his head again, this time for his own foolishness, and glanced away. It wasn’t until he felt a light tug on his hand and soft lips on his cheek that he returned his gaze.

“… And I’m not exactly used to, well, you. Being like this, I mean,” Alfred said with a small, happy shrug. Indeed, after such a time of being a typical set of male best friends, it was quite the difference to be behaving as a couple. He turned his head, causing Arthur’s lips to meld with his mouth rather than his cheek, light smacking sounds filling the air of their apartment . When he pulled away less than a minute later, mostly due to his silly embarrassment - hey, that bit of tongue from the British boy had caught him off guard! - and the lack of time to carry this kissing session any further, he sighed, “But I’ll definitely try my best to get used to it. It’s too nice to pass up.”

That last comment produce a grin and a playful punch to the shoulder from Arthur, who was quick to tell him, “All right, you pervert, enough of that. You have your first shift at the coffee shop half an hour, so you better stop pestering me and hustle up.”

He stuck out his tongue in a mocking fashion and then laughed, oblivious to the enormous inner cringe that Alfred was currently experiencing. Right, it was time for his first shift at the ‘coffee shop’. Fuck.

“Yeah, I better get ready,” Alfred agreed, forcing his tone of voice to remain neutral and not miserable or fearful. He shot his flat mate - his boyfriend, wasn’t he? - a quick smile while he stood from the table. “I have no idea how long they’re going to keep me, so don’t wait up if it gets late. You need sleep, and I’m not worth losing it.”

Arthur merely chuckled, waving Alfred away while telling him to get going. He cleared their plates from the table and watched with a smile as the taller blonde hurried to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and combing his hair so that he looked fresh for his first day on the job. When asked if he was going to change into something nicer than a plain t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of worn Converse, he shook his head, saying that it didn’t really matter what he wore, as he would be forced into a green apron and visor of the coffee shop’s uniform when he arrived there. No big deal…

… In truth, it was an extremely big deal, an enormous one, in fact! He was clueless on what he would be made to wear tonight at the joint, or if he was even going to be wearing anything at all. The very thought frightened him out of his wits. However. Knowing that when he came home Arthur would be waiting for him, waiting to give him hugs and kisses and who knows what other good things, made the job worth the trouble. It was worth the pain and humiliation he was bound to endure.

Indeed, as he arrived and became settled at the strip joint a little more than a half hour later, there was pain and humiliation. And much more than he had originally anticipated.

Upon poking his head through the main door of the joint and showing his I.D. to the bouncer standing inside the parlor, he asked if he could see Sir. The bouncer laughed, called him ‘fresh meat’, and pointed him to the very back of the joint. The door was supposedly labeled with an Employees Only sign.

On his way there, he was able to view the joint in full swing, most of the sights stirring a blush on his face - there were women in skimpy outfits behind the bar serving drinks to sleazy customers, more women, alongside a few men, dancing to the beat of some fast-paced techno song at the nearby poles and tables, a rainbow of flashing strobe lights pouring down from the ceiling, overstuffed leather armchairs and doors that led to who knows where…!

However, fortunately for him, he knew exactly where he was going. Straight to the very back, where his fate awaited him.

“Ah, Alfred, we were just talkin’ about ya,” was the first thing Sir said to him after he knocked hesitantly and let himself into the room. The smoky, dimly-lit room. It was slightly crowded, too, the gruff man surrounded by two women in lingerie and with a large set of various screens in front of him, surveillance screens that displayed all areas of the club for him to keep a close eye on. Everything was rather intimidating. He gestured for him to come closer, sitting up from the chair he had been planted in and saying, “Okay, listen up, I’m gonna to lay down the only rule for me while ya work here, and then I’ll have one of the boys explain the rest of the club to ya.”

It was in this moment that he lifted up the bottom hem of his suit jacket and revealed a concealed weapon. An automatic pistol, to be exact, that was strapped to his side and easily accessible to his chubby hands. He pulled it from its holster, and watched, grinning, as Alfred involuntarily backed against the door in fear.

“Now, listen here…” Sir said, his voice stern and dripping with power. There was a silence that followed the start of his sentence, interrupted by the click of the bullet falling into the gun’s chamber as he pointed it at the trembling boy. “The only rule for me while ya work is that ya never, ever piss me off. Ya dance, strip, and fuck when I tell ya, and I’ll be happy. And when I’m happy, ya ain’t filled with lead… Got it?”

“Y-Yes, Sir,” Alfred replied shakily, unable to say anything beyond that in his current state of shock. He continued to press himself against the door, fearing that his brain may be splattered onto it at any second, his body tossed into a dumpster, and the fact that he had even entered the joint tonight forgotten. He wouldn’t be surprised if such things happened, especially with Sir’s cold stare locked with his own. But, thankfully, that cold stare soon melted and was replaced by a confident gleam, which still terrified Alfred nonetheless. The gun was tucked away into the holster once again after the bullet in the chamber was popped and reset, the women in the room not having spoken a word throughout the entire ordeal. It seemed that they were, unfortunately, accustomed to such hostilities.

“All right then, get out, I’m done with ya. Go grab the nearest male server and tell him that it’s ‘Sir’s orders for ya to be trained’,” the man said in a manner that was much too nonchalant. He rudely snapped at him to hurry along.

Obeying and fumbling with the handle of the door behind him, Alfred hopped out of the room and was reunited with the pounding music and glowing lights and sweating bodies of the club’s main area. Whew. He realized that he should make a run for it, although he also realized that he would probably be shot if he did so and he would lose his chance to stay with Arthur. No, he couldn’t afford to lose that chance, not now. Therefore he did as he had been told and reached out for the shoulder of a young man passing by him, his hand making contact with slick, cologne-drenched skin. He winced when the young man turned around and shot him a glare. He was quick to explain and relieved when the young man softened his glare and nodded.

“So you’re a new kid who needs to figure out how this hellhole works, huh? I guess I’d better help you out,” the young man said with a bitter laugh, shaking his head and causing his long brunette locks to sway. He smirked and gestured off to the side, handing his tray to another server as he guided Alfred away from the open space. “What’s your name? You can call me Leo, if you’d like.”

“… I’m Alfred. It’s, uhm, nice to meet you, Leo. And thanks for helping me out.”

“Don’t thank me, it’ just part of my job.”


“Besides, all I’m doing is showing you around the joint and how to be, well, basically, a man-slut. Oh, and I’ll be changing your outfit, too.”

They were soon going through another door labeled with an Employees Only sign. Within the rather compact room, the scents of sweat and cheap cologne assaulted his nose, causing him to crinkle it and distract him from the many vanities and racks of scandalous and glittery clothing surrounding them. When he did notice them a few seconds later, however, he crinkled his nose once again, this time in deepened disgust. Fuck, he couldn’t wait for tonight to be over.

“Go ahead and take everything off, and I’ll get you something like this,” Leo paused to wiggle his hips, causing the fabric of the small black apron that covered his lower half and the matching bowtie around his neck to flutter, “to wear, okay? Just throw your clothes anywhere, I’ll put them away for you later.”

Obviously hesitant when it came to the prospect of getting naked, Alfred was slow in the process of undressing, his skin flared pink with embarrassment and shame when it came to finally dropping his boxers. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before quickly accepting the identical black apron and bowtie that was handed to him by Leo. After he had the damn things on, which, thankfully, the apron covered his backside as well as his front, he was pushed toward one of the vanities. Around the edges of the vanity’s mirror, there were photographs of the seductive faces of other employees, mostly women, caked in everything from heavy rouge to light purple mascara. Ugh. He stared at the photographs, annoyed by them… Although…

Beyond the makeup-drenched flesh and lusting features of the employees, he saw that, despite the realization that he was going to be made a part of them, there was Arthur’s smile just past that. A smile made bright and wide by the money he was going to earn here, the money that was going to allow them to stay together. Yes, they were going to stay together, and this was going to be made tolerable because of it.

He was then told to hold still and to close his eyes.

“… There. You can open them now,” came Leo’s voice some five minutes later after poking at Alfred’s face with various forms of makeup. He edged off to the side and allowed him to get a good look himself. That aquamarine gaze widened, almost franticly glancing over the foundation, lip gloss, and light brown eye shadow and eyeliner that had been applied to him. The makeup was similar to Leo’s and he hated it, he hated how he was becoming more and more in-tune with the joint. And how he was soon led back out into the main area to learn the basics on pleasing the patrons.

Leo swiftly explained what Alfred would be doing for the next four hours or so of his shift, not giving him much time to adjust or ask questions, “You’re always either going to be dancing and stripping or serving drinks and flirting. Every half hour, you switch between the two. We’ll start you off with serving drinks and flirting, since it’s easier, and I’ll help you on the pole when we switch to the dancing and stripping later.”

Gulping, Alfred nodded, only able to think of ‘the pole’ he was to encounter in less than thirty minutes while he was guided to the bar by Leo. This is where his work began. The tasks were simple enough for him, carrying glasses brimming with alcohol out to the tables where the customers had ordered them, and returning with the emptied ones only to have his tray restocked with more brimming glasses. It was during these tasks that things became complicated for him.

“Nice ass, kid, you wanna come home with me tonight?”

“So cute and so new! What’s your name?”

“Damn, I’d love to tie you up and hear you squeal.”

The various men and women who cooed and called out to him as he did his server duties were a pain, and difficult to not lash out at. He was actually quite relieved when Leo informed him that the switch was in motion, his tray taken from him by another half-naked young man. Good, he would rather be up on the pole than within the range of the grabby patrons.

“Hey, Alfred,” Leo said to him when they were making their way over to an unoccupied pole, “you need to be more flirty with the customers, or else Sir will be pissed. Try to talk to them more, smile, you know what I mean? And don’t glare at them if they say or ask lewd of you. Just go with things, and you should be fine… Anyway, the idea of just going with things applies to being on the pole, too. The music will start, the customers will watch, and you and I will dance. We’ll strip near the end of the half hour.”

While they were climbing onto the small stage the surrounded the pole and awaiting the change in music, Leo additionally explained two other key concepts - after gaining some experience, he would be expected to wear outfits more elaborate than his small black apron and bowtie, and, on a more frightening note, he would soon be up on the pole by himself with no support. Probably before the night was over.

What followed was Alfred’s first performance. Aside from the hip-wiggling and shoulder-rolling movements that he copied from Leo, he didn’t remember much else. He pushed the memories, the memories that made him feel disgusting and undeserving, out of his mind, assisted by the drinks that he downed throughout the rest of night, all bought for him out of adoration from the patrons. Ugh.

“Ugh,” he grumbled upon reentering the apartment sometime after midnight. His head was throbbing from the alcohol and the constant movement of his body, and he was, in fact, relieved that Arthur wasn’t there to greet him, most likely asleep in the bedroom. He didn’t want to be seen in this state, his clothes and hair ruffled, his glasses askew.

After popping a couple of aspirin pills in the bathroom, he wobbled into the bedroom where is futon lay opposite of Arthur’s, where the British boy was sound asleep. Oh, God, seeing him so peacefully snoozing under the sheets brought a smile to his face, and again reminded him that his job at the joint was worth it.

It was worth this life.


Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~
His Hagaren Heart

Stay - Part 1/5 - [[USUK]]

Title: Stay - Part 1/5 - [[USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: In desperate need to keep his apartment with Arthur and to sort out his feelings for him, Alfred takes up a job at a strip joint. He only prays that it won't affect his emotions or his sanity...
“Do you have your tie, Alfred? And your résumé?” Arthur called out to the other half of the apartment where his flat mate was preparing for the day. “Hurry now, I know that this interview will be the one!”

“I got it all, thanks! I’ll be out in a minute.”

After listening to his words echo softly amongst the tiles of the bathroom, Alfred faced his reflection in the mirror. Bright, determined blue eyes behind a pair of glasses and a small frown were the most definitive parts of what he saw. Maybe this would be the one, maybe he would be able to stop worrying if he landed this job... Maybe the fluttering within his chest at the sound of Arthur’s accented voice would relax if he had a steady income to prove his worth. Maybe he could start focusing on Arthur rather than his lack of finances.

... Although, it wasn’t as if he truly needed to focus on Arthur in anything more than a friendly way. There was nothing serious between them, no romance or relationship. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking to start making something between them. Now that they were in their freshman year of college at the same university and were sharing an apartment, so long as Alfred could afford his half of the rent by getting a job, the other half of the rent being taken care of by Arthur’s parents, they had more freedom together. Living with Arthur and having more alone time with him gave Alfred the chance to really settle down and get his feelings straightened out - he had wanted to do so for some time now, ever since back in the beginning of their sophomore year when Arthur had confessed to him that he was gay. Prior to that, they had known each other for five years, Arthur having moved here to Seattle from England in the fifth grade, and Alfred had never suspected him to be homosexual. His learning of his friend’s true sexual orientation had come both as an obvious shock and an odd thrill.

“I think I’m gay, Alfred. I mean, I’ve never had a girlfriend or even wanted one. A-And I told you about what happened at that party last week, how I danced with and kissed that guy, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. But are you totally sure? I mean--

“Yes! I've thought it over, and I’m certain that I would rather have one good boyfriend than all the pretty girls in the world. They're just not appealing to me, it’s the boys that are... Do you understand? I can’t explain it any more than that, and I trust you enough to understand. Please, please understand.”

“I do. I promise, Arthur.”

As Alfred recalled the conversation, he additionally recalled how Arthur had giving a sob of appreciation and embraced him, the action being the start of seeing his friend in a whole new light. He had the potential for making deeper connections, a concept that had always been in the back of Alfred’s mind that had never fully come fourth until this revelation. This was the opening that he had been involuntarily searching for in the years of their friendship, what drove him to wonder about Arthur’s emotions and likes and dislikes each summer vacation that he was away visiting family in London, when Alfred was left with nothing but raw imagination of what they could be.

And yet.

Life for them had gone on as usual after the confession, no major changes occurred other than Alfred having frequent daydreams of what it would be like to ask Arthur out. Despite the fact that there was now a real possibility of them becoming a couple, he failed to act on it, lost in the worries and wonderings of his own mind. For the remainder of their high school career, Arthur wasn't included in any of Alfred’s romantic ventures. He had flings with a few girls here and there, hell, he had once made-out with another boy at a party in his junior year, if only to please a drunken crowd. And hey, he wasn't so high and mighty to refuse such a thing, and he certainly wasn't homophobic... Not that he was one to give into peer-pressure, having chosen to live with Arthur while all of his other friends had pleaded with him to come live in the university’s dorms. No. He had passed on the crazy college dorm life of excessive drinking and random hook-ups in favor of a quiet apartment with Arthur, where tea cups and embroidery projects were much more common.

This arrangement was perfect for him, for what he believed he wanted, Arthur was so easily in reach, so kind and accepting, so unattached to anyone but him. Really, they were best friends. Best friends that he was dying to turn into boyfriends, and all he had to do was come out and say what he felt, to make a confession of his own. But, for the time being, he needed to land this job first - his fourth interview in the past two months and with less than a week before the fall semester began in August - the hopeful income acting as the key to maintaining his perfect arrangement with Arthur. He drew in a breath.

Popping an aspirin pill to calm his head pounding with nervousness and stepping out of the bathroom, Alfred was greeted by a pajama-wearing Arthur who also happened to be sporting a bedhead. The poor British boy had been torn from sleep no more than twenty minutes ago to assist with the preparations for the interview, which was scheduled for seven o’ clock this morning, an early hour for the two of them. What’s more, as he stood there with one arm outstretched toward his flat mate, it appeared that he had even gone through the trouble of packing a little something extra for him.

“Here, you know I’m not too great at cooking, but I did manage to heat up one of those nasty Hot Pocket things you enjoy so much. It’s not badly burnt, either,” he said with a small grimace, presenting a neatly-folded paper bag to Alfred. It was accepted with a nod. “Eat it out of the bag, and hopefully you won’t get any artificial cheese or meat from who-knows-what on your tie.”

On the word ‘tie’, Arthur had reached out to playfully flip at the mentioned accessory, the black satin fabric raising up for a moment before flopping back against Alfred’s dress shirt. They laughed.

“Hey, thanks, I’ll eat it on the way there,” Alfred chirped, leaning forward to catch him in a hug, the action lasting just long enough to allow for a good inhale of the shorter blonde’s herbal shampoo scent. When he pulled away, he was unable to do so completely, his hands gripping the lean forearms across from him. “And I’m sorry about making you wake up so early with me, it’s the damn coffee shop’s fault...”

"Now, now, there’s no need to get angry at the place that will hire you. Yes, they will hire you, I’m confident of it, and you know that. Stop frowning," Arthur scolded him, shaking his head in disapproval when the previous facial expression had reappeared. His arms were folded, his words and actions reminding Alfred so fiercely of when they had first met in the fifth grade, Arthur having huffed at him for being emotionally foolish over a lost game of baseball on the playground. They had squabbled and babbled and exchanged raised brows during class time. Although, they had warmed to one another faster than anyone could have foreseen, despite their differences, and together created today’s strong friendship without many changes. Arthur still reprimanded Alfred, Alfred still teased Arthur, and they both truly care for each other in the end, beyond all the pet peeves and jokes.

After a few final adjustments to his outfit and a brief discussion of what they should have for lunch later, Alfred headed to the front door, his right hand reaching for the knob when something that was said caused him to pause. He listened intently, Arthur’s voice quiet and coming from behind him.

“I hope you get this job, I hope we can keep living together. Ever since we moved back in June, the idea of being here without you hurts. I want you to stay with me.”

Alfred turned around, his right hand now on the doorknob and his mouth twitched upward into a gentle smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best, okay? I want to stay with you, too.”

And with that, he slipped past the front door and headed out into the world. There was a light rainfall occurring, he noticed, walking down the stairs that led away from their apartment on the second story of the complex. It was typical summer Seattle weather and it blurred his view of the university that was a couple of streets over, he and Arthur having wanted to live close enough to simply walk to their classes. Their location was a delight, being nearby the downtown area’s most enjoyable shops and eateries, as well. In fact, the coffee shop that he was being interviewed at was no more than a twenty minute walk straight along their current street to the left.

He walked past several boutiques and cafés along the way, munching idly on his packed breakfast while glancing at his watch every minute or so, the inner pocket of his jacket patted to assure himself that his folded résumé was still there. It was five minutes before seven when he arrived at the door of the shop, his paper bag tossed in a nearby trashcan. Grinning once he was inside, the scent of coffee beans and the urban interior decorating momentarily distracted him. Ah, he could definitely work here! He was soon waved over by a young woman behind the counter, asking how she could help him, her green apron flashing as she spun around to holler to the back when told that he was here for an interview. He was soon guided behind the counter by the young woman and instructed to wait there with his résumé out. Waiting to meet the manager and sitting in a plastic folding chair beside an empty one, he watched the young woman and the other employees with the expectancy that he would be joining them, that he would keep his perfect arrangement with Arthur.

The manager, a middle-aged gentleman, greeted him with a firm handshake and an exchanging of names. He was Mr. Doan, and he immediately asked for the résumé and a brief introduction with an explanation of his qualities and talents. He sat there bearing a keen expression.

In the middle of Alfred’s story of the volunteer work he had done throughout his senior year of high school, he was interrupted by the mam, “Wait, if this was done in your senior year of high school, does that mean you’re in college now?”

“Yes, I’ll be entering my freshman year at Seattle University next week. I even have a partial scholarship there,” he stated proudly, knowing that this information would impress the manager and would possibly help to land this job. He mentally crossed his fingers.

Unfortunately, a college student was the last type of person that Mr. Doan wished to hire. He explained to a blinking Alfred that this job required a large amount time where he would be on-call for work, a situation that wasn’t ideal for a college student attempting to maintain good grades, especially a full-time student like himself. Fuck. He was being rejected, and for a reason frighteningly similar to his other failed interviews.

Not again! he thought as he thanked the manager for his time and trudged out the door, one hand crushing the résumé. What the hell am I supposed to do now!? That was the last interview I had set up! Oh, no, Arthur...!

He was going to lose his chance to live with Arthur! They would be separated and he would never straighten out his emotions. He would be forced to live at his parents’ house, his friend left all alone in the apartment... And what if he wasn’t alone? What if Arthur, having no one else to share that space with, began to bring boys home for company? He knew that Arthur had said that he wanted for him to stay, but everything could change once he had the apartment, and the freedom, to himself. He could be forgotten. Who’s to say these things weren't possible? Besides, he had no idea as to whether or not there any mutual, romantic feelings between them, and that’s exactly why he needed this opportunity to be close to Arthur! He had to discover if they really could be a couple and if--

Now hiring - Physically fit young adults.

Alfred broke his thought process to read the sign over again, which was posted outside of some boutique that he had passed by earlier and been too busy to notice. Huh. Wait, this wasn't a boutique, he realized while taking a second look, seeing that the posters on the building’s windows weren’t of models wearing the latest fashions, but rather scantily-clad men and women in provocative poses. Oh, it was a strip joint. And, well, fuck, he doubted that they were hiring 'physically fit young adults' to lift heavy boxes in the back, they just wanted people who looked good with their shirts off. People who were desperate.

Though he continued to stand there, rereading the sign and glancing at the posters and noticing the joint's name of ‘Scarlet’. He raised a hand to repeatedly knock on the glass of the nearest window, wondering if anyone would answer him at such an early hour and wondering how he could be so rash and pathetic. He waited, and, frighteningly enough, the front door was pushed open less than a minute later.

“Whatcha want, kid? The girls are asleep, and the boys are, too, so get lost. We’re closed,” a tall man stated, stroking his brown beard in irritation. The suit he was wearing clashed with his unhappy features, giving him a sense of elegance that he didn’t seem to deserve. He rubbed the side of his shaved head when Alfred said nothing and gestured weakly to the sign. The tall man then made a humming sound of realization, stroked his beard once again, and questioned him, “Your face is nice enough, but do ya got any I.D. on ya? We don’t take kids under eighteen.”

Nodding silently, his own actions had shocked him into a current inability to speak, Alfred reached into his pocket and produced his wallet, a state-issued I.D. pulled from it and handed to the tall man. It showed a photograph of him and his date of birth, Independence Day, in fact, which had passed about a month ago, making him eighteen. His heart skipped a beat and plummeted to his stomach like a sack of stones when he was given words of approval and asked to come inside.

Alfred’s, ahem, interview was started once he was standing with the tall man, who now demanded be called ‘Sir’, at the front of the joint’s inner parlor. He wasn’t offered a seat, though a few florescent lights that could reveal even the most beautiful person’s physical flaws were switched on to their brightest setting. He squinted and answered the flurry of questions that followed.

“What’s your name again?”

“Alfred F. Jones.”

“Do ya have any experience with dancin’ or strippin’?”


“Are ya gay or straight?”

“I-I’m not sure… I guess I could swing either way.”

“Are ya a virgin?”


“How many hours can ya work per week?”

“… No more than twenty.  I have school and stuff.”

Of course, by ‘stuff’, he meant spending time with Arthur. That was the whole reason behind this crazy venture! He needed this job to pay for his half of the rent in order to keep close to his beloved Briton, no matter how disgusting and low it was! He held his breath when told to hold still while his shirt was lifted up and the front of his dress pants were roughly brushed over.  The breath was released a moment later, Sir’s hands removed and his face thoughtful with the results of the uncomfortable interview and assessment.

He snorted softly and nodded his head, “Yeah, all right, I’ll hire ya. I’ll start ya off at eight bucks an hour, since ya don’t have any experience, but I’ll probably bump it up to nine real soon if ya work hard and maintain that pretty body. Anyways, hm, today’s Thursday… So, come back here on Saturday night at eight o’ clock, and that’ll be your first day. Ya don’t need to bring anythin’ with you, just ask for me when ya get here and don’t be late.”

Alfred was sent away then, Sir telling him that he had more important  items to attend to than his freshly-picked employee. That was that. He had been hired as a stripper in a fraught motion and twist of fate. He had received his wish of being able to stay with Arthur, although, at the same time, he had a horrible feeling that he was going to struggle in upholding his sanity, dignity, and love life. Nevertheless, it was just a feeling, wasn’t it? How legitimate could it be?

He walked back to the apartment in the sprinkle of rain that continued to fall, cold.

“Alfred! How did the interview go?” was what Arthur greeted him with, hopping up from where he sat using his laptop at the kitchen table when Alfred entered through the front door. He moved to stand with less than a yard between them, his expression simultaneously concerned and anticipative, both hands partially raised and green eyes glinting.

“Well,” Alfred began, forcing his slightly shamed features to beam with happiness, instead, “the manager really liked me and… I got the job. My first day of work is this Saturday. I can stay with you, Arthur.”

The moment that followed his announcement made the filthy truth behind it seem worthwhile - Arthur rushed forward in sheer delight at the information, clapped his hands on Alfred’s shoulders, and kissed him without a second thought.

Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~
His Hagaren Heart

Reaching Reality - Part 8/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]

Title: Reaching Reality - Part 8/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, Canada, America/Canada, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary:  Alfred and Arthur continued to date and existed as a cheery couple, having their intimate moments behind closed doors and constantly holding hands in public, even at school...


“What the hell is wrong with you!? You can’t do things like this, Mattie, you just can’t. It’s tearing me apart!”

“You’re being torn apart? What about me!? You don’t love me anymore and I have no one else to turn to, I’m alone!”

“I still love you, damn it, but like a brother. And I want to help you, to support you! You’ll hurt yourself even more otherwise! We need to get you some therapy or something… anything!”

“No! I don’t want anything from you or Dad or a therapist! Leave me alone, like I’m meant to be!”

They didn’t speak after that. A final, mutual glare was exchanged and they walked out of the kitchen through the two separate doorways. When their father returned from work later that evening, they both came down to greet him at the front door, their smiles painfully false.

“… And you’re sure everything is all right at home?” Arthur questioned his boyfriend, reaching over across the couch to squeeze his hand for what seemed like the millionth time. The action had become so frequent during this conversation that Alfred was beginning to become annoyed with it, wondering if he should have come for a visit in the first place. No, that wasn’t the issue here - they should certainly be spending time together, like they were at Arthur’s house in this very moment, though it was a mistake to be discussing Matthew and his current condition. It had been a week since that bloody, rainy day, he had nearly pushed the memory out of his mind completely!

In fact, Alfred had realized that it was such a mistake to talk about his twin, he hadn’t even informed Arthur of the self-cutting incident. That would be too much. He only wanted to be concerned with Arthur, who he was loving more and more each day, and not with Matthew, who was steadily becoming less and less a part of his life. It was easy to ignore and forget about someone who spent the majority of their time locked away in their room, pouting or cutting. Whatever, he couldn’t bring himself to care much after that fight, his disaster of a twin no longer in his line of sight. All he could see was those gorgeous emerald green eyes, half-lidded and leaning toward him…

‘Tell Dad that I have to stay after school for some French stuff. It’s AP work, you wouldn’t understand.’

Alfred made a face at the snobby text he had received walking home from school, he walked by himself nowadays, silently vowing to relay this information to his father, but for their poor old man’s sake, not because he was happy to oblige to Matthew. Hmph. He hardly fretted over what his twin did at this point, he was too upset with him, and he would be content as long as their father’s feelings weren’t hurt. That’s why he would trot into their home with a grin and chirp about how sweet Matthew would be studying extra hard after school today, and that everyone should be so proud.

Little did he know, if he ever found out what his twin was actually doing, his disgust for him would manage to skyrocket higher.

Matthew had sent the text to Alfred after he had slowly finished packing up from his last hour of the day, having typed it while he shuffled amongst the Academy’s many corridors. The text was half of a lie - indeed, he was headed to his French classroom, though not for any cram session. In reality, he wasn’t quite too sure as to what exactly he was seeking out, and yet he had confidence he would find it. That confidence soared when he squeaked open the door to his French classroom, his teacher peering up from behind a stack of assignments and initially greeting him with a smile.

“Bonjour, Mathieu,” Monsieur Bonnefoy said in accompaniment to the smile, addressing his student by his French-given name as was done during class time. He swiveled his chair away from the stack of assignments and removed his black-rimmed reading glasses, tucking them into the pocket of his dress shirt. “What can I do for you?”

Matthew suppressed a shiver. He knew that he shouldn’t be trying to get cozy with his twenty-six-year-old French teacher, but he honestly believed that he had nobody else in his life, and that transition from eloquently-executed French to barely-accented English never failed to stun him. And, oh, damn, those glasses on him looked fantastic, they gave him a beautifully blended air of intelligence and compassion - he wish he hadn’t taken them off! After watching the man tuck a few stray blonde locks, disturbed by the movement of his glasses, back into his ponytail, he cleared his throat. He stepped forward and shut the door behind him, also subtly locking it so that they wouldn’t be interrupted. This was far too important, whatever this  was.

“I just… wanted to chat,” he responded with, choosing to skip out on any possible chances to use French. Besides, the romance language sounded much better when Monsieur Bonnefoy spoke it. He drew in a deep breath, moving to sit at one of the two chairs near the teacher’s desk, the khaki fabric of his uniform pants rustling, almost whimpering, while he sat down, as if conveying his anxiety for him. The breath drawn from earlier was released, “I feel like, like you’re the only one I have to talk to. I’ve been having some troubles at home lately. It… It’s mainly my twin not being as supportive for me as usual. We’ve grown apart in a time when I need him the most.”

He waited, hoping to be accepted. On the subject of Alfred, the taller of the twins had actually assisted in this push toward Monsieur Bonnefoy for comfort, stemming from that tension-filled day when he had jokingly paired him and Matthew together.

Monsieur Bonnefoy blinked, setting the pen he had been holding on top of the stacked assignments. He then blinked for a second time, also thinking in the process. Aquamarine irises, nearly the same shade of blue as Alfred’s and certainly darker than Matthew’s, scanned over the boy in front of him. Right, he had to remember that, that Matthew was a boy. An extremely emotionally fragile boy and his student. Careful now, keep on the ball here.

“Oui, Mathieu, I understand. I have noticed that you’ve been more quiet than usual in class, and have been frowning more often,” he stated in truth, since it was part of any teacher’s job to note the behaviors of their students. He put on a slight frown of his own, rubbing thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin and saying, “But I’m here for you. We can talk about your twin - Alfred, isn’t it? - and the problems with him as much or as little as you would like… I’ll help you in the best way I can.”

It was his turn to be accepted, placing his right hand on Matthew’s nearest thigh and giving a light squeeze, awaiting a reaction. His gaze glinted. This is where he was beginning to push boundaries, so quickly and prominently, although so worth it if he was successful.

“… That’s exactly it, Monsieur Bonnefoy. I-I’m lonely, Alfred found someone special when I had just lost my own significant other,” Matthew explained, forcing himself not to cry while additionally forcing himself to stand and rest both his hands on either of his teacher’s shoulders. The bold move was done under the safety of a locked door in a windowless classroom, done to display how serious he was. It was now or never. He went on, licking his lips and bending forward, “I’m without a boyfriend and without a twin to comfort me. He’s off having fun while I sit at home, wishing… wishing I had his social and sex life. I’m not a weepy virgin, as hard as that is to believe, but I’m stubborn and know what I want.”

He was panting softly when he finished speaking, partially from his sexual excitement, something he hadn’t felt in a long while, and partially from his sheer nervousness of the situation. Anything could happen now, it all came close to overwhelming him, and he found himself unable to make proper eye contact, his head inclined downward… It wasn’t until Monsieur Bonnefoy’s fingers tucked under his chin and raised it that the contact was made. Crucial contact with unspoken promises and desires.

Although it was the older and more experienced of the two who initiated their following actions with a kiss, it was Matthew that wound up taking charge. He was the one who chose to sit in Monsieur Bonnefoy’s lap and straddle his hips, who furthered the kiss by adding his tongue into the mix, who firmly pressed and rubbed his backside against the bulge in the pants beneath him. He breathed feathery moans and groans every chance he had. And it wasn’t that he was aiming to be like some schoolgirl slut, he just wanted relief from the stress and heartache he had been dealing with over the past couple of weeks. It wasn’t fair that Alfred, damn him and that boyfriend of his, was getting off these days without him, why couldn’t he make something for himself? In his rather warped mind, he saw absolutely nothing wrong with taking this limited, drastic option of fucking around with his French teacher. Hey, it had a pleasant ring to it, and he was being satisfied both mentally and physically, his mind now understanding that his twin wasn’t the only one seeking happiness, his body heated and tingling in the most sensitive of places.

After a quick conversation involving the preferred use on Monsieur Bonnefoy’s first name, Francis, instead of his formal name, and involving the confirmed privacy of them in the classroom, the situation turned to it’s high point.

“I don’t have any lube or condoms here, Mathieu, so… What would you like--?”

“How about I just suck you off? You can return the favor when I’m finished.”

“… Oui, let’s do that. Get under the desk.”

Soon enough, Francis was having one of his naughtiest fantasies fulfilled - a lovely young man, underage and a uniformed student, was relieving an erection for him with his mouth. It was made all the better by he himself being able to arch back comfortably in his chair while whispering sweet nothings in French, the words especially beautiful because they were comprehended by Matthew. He sighed in delight.

When he finally released and it was time to switch roles, Matthew was made to lie face-up on the desk, the stack of assignments pushed aside. He whimpered and squirmed and begged for more once he had caught his at the end of his climax, nearly driven into another orgasm at the sight of Francis, lips dripping with his semen and tongue darting out to sweep it up. He blinked at his teacher, innocently and expectantly.

They made arrangements to meet again, though, of course, certainly not in the classroom in the afternoon. They would most definitely be meeting at Francis’ condominium in the less affluent half of Manhattan, where he assured Matthew of wonderfully romantic things such as red wine and roses…

“What’s more, we can play out whatever kink or fantasy you want there. Cross dressing, bondage, chocolate syrup, whatever you would like,” Francis purred at Matthew as he stood to leave, trusting him immensely with no threats to not turn him in for sexual assault of a minor or what have you. This was fine with him, as it was consensual and enjoyable. He merely smiled and waved, the motions mimicked by the boy opposite of him. “Au revoir, mon doux.”

In the next few weeks, in the next few months, everyone’s lives went on as if nothing was amiss. And, when it all came down to it, there really wasn’t anything too terribly wrong. Alfred and Arthur continued to date and existed as a cheery couple, having their intimate moments behind closed doors and constantly holding hands in public, even at school. The majority of the students and staff members didn’t have any issues with this, and there was no longer a need to hide it from Matthew. The quieter of the Jones twins had grown out of being his sibling’s lover, his problem. There were no more unwanted bedroom advances, or self-harm incidents to be dealt with, he was his own, fairly independent person who treated Alfred with respect and brotherly love. He had friends that he had made without his twin and maintained his excellent grades, French in particular.

His relationship with Francis was kept in the dark, and Matthew was kept perfectly happy, their steamy midnight encounters and the compliments he received during Francis’ homemade gourmet meals in the evenings before brought a new light to his eyes. He had his own life, no matter how twisted it may seem.

“You’re going out with Arthur tonight?” Matthew asked his twin, walking slowly down the stairs of their home to the first floor, having recently awoken from a nap and rubbing at his face. It was a Saturday afternoon in December, he could be lazy if he chose to be! “Do you want me to tell Dad when he gets home?”

This time around, Alfred was perfectly inclined to answer him when the matter of who he dated was brought up, hearing no hatred in the other blonde’s voice, “Yep! There’s no football practice this weekend and Arthur says he can get us into a pub downtown, so we’re going to try and drink… And, heh, yeah, tell Dad I’m out, but not about the alcohol, okay?”

“Sure thing.”


“You know,” Matthew started as a final thought, relaxing against the banister while watching Alfred pull on his bomber jacket at the front door, “I was thinking of going out tonight, too. You see, there’s this great guy…”

Alfred turned in his direction and grinned, “Oh, really? Good for you, Mattie. I hope you do go out tonight, have a little fun, but don’t do anything stupid and illegal like me.”

Obviously, when he stated ‘stupid and illegal’, he was referring to the alcohol. However, when his twin opened his mouth and spoke, he didn’t catch what was being referred to, not that he would have managed to handle it.

“Illegal? Well, I don’t think I can avoid that.”


Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~
Here's the final part, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the story and I'm sorry that I can't write any more for this. >.<;;

His Hagaren Heart

Reaching Reality - Part 7/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]

Title: Reaching Reality - Part 7/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, Canada, America/Canada, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: Whenever their father was out for work or some other occasion, there was no peace in the Jones' home, only quarrels and glares...


“And we shouldn‘t be together! Our relationship was a mistake, damn it, and I don’t ever want to deal with it again… I don’t want you…!”

The moment that these words were spoken, Matthew had undone his frightening hold on Arthur. At the same time, he undid his hold on reality while Alfred strengthened his own. He fell into a world of delusional pain and suffering, his twin gaining the opposite - a clear view of the real world with the urge to seek out true happiness.

Matthew weakly grasped at Alfred’s shirt, swayed on the spot, and fully dropped to the floor as he fainted.

One week later, the situation was more delicate than ever before. Whenever their father was out for work or some other occasion, there was no peace in the Jones’ home, only quarrels and glares. It had come to the point where Matthew would actively seek out a fight, either verbal or physical, vowed words of hatred sent out and sexually lunges against beds made to spur on the aggression. There was no escape since they lived together and had their rooms less than ten feet away from one another, school being the single sanctuary. And even there, it was often a challenge to make avoidances in the hallways or at lunch. Fuck. Alfred was beginning to feel its draining effects, and he was constantly attempting to distance himself from his twin, if he would allow him to, that is.

“I’m going out,” Alfred said aloud, not exactly aiming the words at his twin, who was sitting in the kitchen and watching him pull his jacket from the rack near the front door. He took his time in adjusting the leather garment, it was a bomber jacket embroidered with patches, to be more specific, his absolute favorite. Any creases were smoothed out and the collar was fluffed a bit, as he wanted to look sharp. He wasn’t just going out, after all, he was going out on a date with his boyfriend.

The following hiss from Matthew could be heard even while he drew a breath to speak, “Out with that ugly senior of yours? Out to fuck?”

“Don’t say things like that, Mattie. We’re just going out to dinner… It’s Saturday night and we’re both free, what do you expect us to want to do?” Alfred countered him gently with, having no desire to upset him further. He turned towards him, jacket finally in place how he wished.

I expect for you to spend some real time with me, and for you to stop acting like you two are actually a couple.”
“Sorry, but I don’t like your idea of us ‘spending time together’. When you want to hang out like brothers and not in bed, then let me know… Plus, Arthur and I are definitely a couple, so get used to it.”

Rolling his eyes a bit, Alfred zipped up his jacket and opened the front door. He was greeted by an light autumn rainstorm in Manhattan, hence the jacket, and swiftly shut the door behind him. He trotted down along the stoop and stood at the edge of the sidewalk, waving his right hand and whistling in order to hail a taxi. He was in no mood to walk through the rain to a date that he was beginning to feel guilty about…

“So, dare I ask, how’s Matthew doing? Not too well, I’m assuming, since you’ve hardly touched your meal and keep sighing to yourself,” Arthur was telling him no less than a half hour later. “Please, tell me what’s been happening. I’m here for you.”

They were sitting inside a small café in downtown, the hamburger and fries in front of Alfred having only a few bites from them, his right hand repeatedly dipping a fry into the pool of ketchup he had created from the bottle, his left hand covered by Arthur’s. A gesture of comfort and confidence made by his boyfriend. His boyfriend. Right. He raised his head and dropped the soaked fry to briefly adjust his glasses.
“No, he’s not doing well… He’s been…” He paused and huffed out a sound of frustration, as if the what he needed to say next was the most painful thing in the world, and for him, it sadly was, “He just hates me. He hates me so much, I can’t stand it. He won’t let me get near him without wanting something sexual, and when I tell him no, he turns away from me or insults me… He won’t let me help by talking this out. It’s like, like we’re not twins anymore.”

He repeated the sound of frustration, sending a defeated expression in Arthur’s direction.

“Look, Alfred, love, if he’s going to be acting like this when all you’re trying to do is help, then forget it. You have better things to focus on than that stubborn brat. You have your classes and your athletics… and you have us,” Arthur told him gently but firmly, leaning in for extra emphasis. The worn cherry wood table squeaked with the motion, leaving silence in its wake to be filled with what he hoped to be a positive response.

“… Maybe you’re right.”

Alfred shook his head a bit after saying this, his heart and mind remained unsettled. He felt trapped with no solution to his dilemma in sight. He stared out of the rain-stained window they were seated next to, their own reflections and the other reflections of the bustling café were what he saw, certainly no solutions. He sighed for the umpteenth time and glanced back at that pale face across from him. Of course, he adored Arthur and knew that he was only looking out for his best interest. However, unfortunately at the same time, there was that unbreakable bond between himself and Matthew that endured, despite the existing tension between them. It tugged and tugged at the back of his mind, depressing him and riling him up simultaneously.

“How about you finish up your burger and we head back to my place to relax? My parents should still be out on their own date,” Arthur offered, adding in a sly, sweet smile and patting Alfred’s hand. Hey, he wasn’t trying to be the evil newcomer who broke apart the previously-inseparable pair of twins, no, he simply wished for his boyfriend to be at peace. To feel good about himself and to not always fret over other people, particularly other people named Matthew Jones. Hmph.

All right, so perhaps he was being a touch evil. But it was working, as he had never seen someone choke down a plate of hamburger and fries that quickly - and what was the big deal, anyway? He was keeping an incestuous relationship at bay, and additionally showing the path to life’s true joys and normality. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt to be found in him, unlike Alfred, who he had his arms wrapped around a little more than fifteen minutes later.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your chest, hm? You have some amazing muscles there, and your nipples perk at the slightest touch, mmhm… Fuck, this is fantastic,” Arthur purred.

They hadn’t even been able to make it upstairs to Arthur’s room upon entering his home, settling for the couch in the empty living room, instead. The notion that they may be caught by Arthur’s parents returning from their date hardly crossed their minds, and, when it did, their excitement only heightened. How dangerous and thrilling and intoxicating this was! They undressed down to their boxers and groped each other in the dim light, the rain having subsided into a drizzle outside and adding a chill to the atmosphere around them, their bare skin dotted in goose bumps.

At the moment, Alfred had Arthur pinned to one end of the couch. However, it was the British boy who was in charge with his teasing of the flesh he found above him, its owner groaning in submissive, involuntary delight. His tongue stroked against Alfred’s nipples in particular, making sure to rub the metal of his piercing on the sensitive area, his hands squeezing at Alfred’s toned sides.
“Nngh, I can’t take it anymore, let’s just do it already…!” Alfred panted at Arthur, hips shaking and pressing onto him, the bulge at the front of his boxers easily felt. He ground himself in between his partner’s legs, where a bulge of a lesser girth was detected, and whimpered, much too eager. He then licked his lips and smiled in a somewhat apologetic fashion, “Sorry, I wanna fuck you so badly it hurts. Or have you fuck me, it doesn’t matter… I want you, Arthur.”

He wanted him. Huh. It was the exact opposite of how he felt about Matthew.

Arthur reflected the smile, as if he had been given the most flattering compliment in the world by the most beautiful person. And to him, in that instance, nothing could be truer, prompting him to reach forward and cup Alfred’s cheek while chuckling, “Heh… I couldn’t agree more, love.”

There was soon a gracious breath of relief to be heard from Alfred, as Arthur had moved to rummage through his discarded pants and retrieved a condom, which he had tucked away in the back of his wallet. Thank goodness for his partner’s strong sense of responsibility! And, oh God, it was the lubricated brand, too, now there was no reason at all for either of them to remove themselves from the couch! They were able to stay snuggled in there oh-so-comfortable position, not a single inch of their heated contact broken. He kissed him for the perfect boyfriend that he believed him to be.

“Fuck me like a dog, you dog,” Arthur said mischievously, his voice partially muffled, holding the still-packaged condom in his teeth with Alfred yanking off his boxers. Upon being shifted to face the cushions of the couch and the condom plucked from his mouth, his smile had morphed into an enormous grin. He could already feel the tip of Alfred’s erection pressing against his raised backside, and he edged into it, slowly but with enough force to demonstrate his own eagerness. “Yes, right there, come on!”

Arthur’s lustful encouragement sent Alfred into a flurry of thrusts, breaking only to hear their shared moans or to inhale the air he was starving himself of, putting every breath into an effort of driving himself deeper. He was full-out gasping when he released a few minutes after the frenzy had begun uselessly blowing hot air onto Arthur’s back while the smaller blonde had yet to climax himself. It wasn’t until he gave a rather demanding grunt that Alfred snapped to attention, finishing him off with light thrusts and hard strokes to his throbbing erection.

There was a soft squelching sound a few strokes in, Arthur managing to catch his release in the palm of his hand. Before Alfred could ask why he had done such a thing, he leaned away from him, wiping the spattering of white fluid on the nearby coffee table, its glass surface now stained and his palm free of it. He glanced over his shoulder, murmuring as he gestured between the coffee table and the couch, “It’s easier to clean glass than fabric.”

They blinked at one another and shared a laugh, their minds too engulfed in pleasure to do much more. Lazily, they shifted around until they had untangled themselves, naked forms huddled for support while ragged breaths were still heaved. Alfred yawned and stretched, handing Arthur the used condom with a devious look when the British boy stood from the couch, his mind set on disposing of the damp thing and on pulling out some supplies from the kitchen. He reentered the living room no more than a minute later, fairly quick for someone who presently had a slight limp in his gait, and saw that his partner was beginning to redress, he himself having remained completely bare.
“Are you abandoning me?” Arthur questioned him playfully, choosing to rest on the doorframe of the living room. He raised a rather bemused eyebrow. The bottle of Windex and paper towel he was holding were tossed idly between his hands when there was no immediate reply. “I thought maybe we could take a shower together.”

“Believe me, I want to, but I need to get back and check on--”
“Matthew. I understand, and I don’t want you stressing yourself out, don’t be considerate of him if he’s not going to do the same for you.”
“I know. Thanks.”

Alfred took his leave then, that same guilt from earlier driving him, embracing Arthur one last time and promising that they would go on another, longer date in the near future. It was difficult for him to leave that affectionate accent and calm body for what was waiting at home - enraged growls and an unstable frame. He sighed quietly to himself in the taxi on the return route, wondering if the rain outside had anything to do with his mood.

“I’m home, Mattie,” Alfred called out in order to not startle his twin, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket at the front door. “Where are you? Is Dad home yet?”
Making his way into the kitchen, he stopped short when he realized that Matthew was in there, his dark blue eyes glimmering by the faintest bit from where he stood at the sink, light from the streetlamps filtering in through the window above the sink. He turned to his twin, smiling. It was the brightest expression that had been seen on his face in days. And why, exactly, was he smiling so brightly?

Matthew extended his left arm, the entire forearm covered in bleeding gashes, and the butcher knife in his right hand wavered.


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His Hagaren Heart

Reaching Reality - Part 6/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]

Title: Reaching Reality - Part 6/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, Canada, America/Canada, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: “Who is this person?” Matthew questioned, moving off the bed and standing, his distance currently kept from his twin...


The front door was shut with the utmost care, not a single sound heard throughout the home, and that was exactly what Alfred and Arthur wanted. They were sneaking back into Alfred’s place at about half past eight in the evening - well, they weren’t sneaking, as they hoped not to take Matthew by surprise, but they wanted to be subtle. Arthur especially, as he was someone that Matthew had never met before, someone who was clinging rather close to Alfred, and that made him an enemy, unfortunately.

“Wait here,” Alfred whispered to Arthur, wiggling his way out of the other’s hold, “and I’ll go talk to Mattie first. I’ll bring him out here when I think it’s a good time, okay?”

“… Okay,” he barely agreed with, disliking that Matthew was being gently coaxed into this. He demanded justice, damn it! He demanded to be let upstairs and freely able to smack some sense into that insane lad! But alas, Alfred was truly kindhearted, both a perk and fault, and wished to have this done with love. Hmph. He thought that love between the two of them was the whole aspect they were working to avoid here. He crossed his arms and waited, ears on edge for anything to be heard.

There wouldn’t be much to hear at the start, the Jones siblings being accustomed to talking in low tones.

Alfred trotted upstairs, finding his twin right where he expected him to be, curled up on the center of his bed. After a moment of pause to gather his courage, he pulled away from peeking through the bedroom door’s crack and knocked, opening it without needing permission. He offered a smile when Matthew sat upright and stared at him. That smile faded when a spoken assault was launched on him.

“You told me earlier that the party ended at ten. Why are you home so early? It’s because you’re a liar, isn’t it? You… You lied to me again, you probably just went out to be away from me because you hate me,” Matthew growled with true belief and malice in his own words. His gaze was so saturated in distrust that it seemed a miracle he actually allowed for his twin to tell his side of the tale.

With a sad shake of his head, Alfred thought it was best to simply come directly out and say it, adding more lies now would be the absolute worst, “I did lie to you, Mattie, you’re right… And I shouldn’t have done it. I wasn’t at a football party tonight, I was out with someone. Someone very special to me.”

In any other case, Matthew would have been delighted at the fact that he had been proven correct, that his suspicions were accurate. And yet, with what followed that admittance of defeat, his triumphant feelings were canceled out completely. It was a shock, really, he had suspected that a part of their relationship was amiss, but nothing like this had crossed his mind. How could he permit it to? It was too devastating to conceive, to realize, his heart already pounding its way out of his chest. His lover had been with another, is that what was going on here!? No, no! That was so wrong when they were supposed to be together, that was cheating!

“Who is this person?” Matthew questioned, moving off the bed and standing, his distance currently kept from his twin. He didn’t begin to close in until he heard an initial grunt for a reply from Alfred, now taking strides toward him while he repeated himself, “Who is this person?”

“My boyfriend. He… His name is Arthur Kirkland, he’s a senior that I sit next to in my math class,” he said, voice growing more bold with the following statement, “He’s from Britain, has the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen, and I’m dating him. I’m sorry, it’s the truth.”

“Boyfriend,” Matthew breathed, gripping his twin’s shoulder in order to stabilize himself. The hand that wasn’t wringing the shoulder went to shakily adjust his glasses, his eyes already welling up with a round of tears behind them. Damn it, damn it! No matter how cruel his following words were, he was still frightened and saddened out of his wits, “A f-fucking boyfriend, oh my God. Speaking of fucking… I-I’ll be you have, haven’t you? You’ve slept with him? Oh, no, I can see it in your face, no…! How can you do this to me, how could you cheat, Alfred!? It isn’t right!”

Alfred was quick to disagree, shrugging him off and shouting, two things he had never done to him before, “No! We aren’t right. We shouldn’t be like this… I just want to be your twin, not your--!”

He was cut off by a forced, abrupt kiss. Their lips smashed together as Matthew grasped him by both his shoulders, Alfred immediately turning his head away from the kiss, but he was painfully held in place by teeth on his lower lip. Blood seeped from the contact, even more so as he attempted to jerk his head away for a second time, panicking as he failed to do so and heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. It was Arthur, he could hear him calling out, and he was so terrified that he physically and mentally froze, leaving them to be discovered as they were with his mind unable to come up with anything.

“Alfred, I heard screaming, what’s going on--? Oh…”

Pausing in the doorway of the bedroom, Arthur could do little more than blink at the scene in front of him. The kiss didn’t exactly seem to be affectionate, however, it was there nonetheless. It was so shocking to him, though he had been told of the incestuous relationship, that he took a step back and put one hand over his mouth. He didn’t move from this stunned position until he saw Alfred also move, the taller blonde making a break from Matthew, who was angrily distracted by the appearance of this stranger. This stranger that had ruined a beautiful part of his life. He glared at his fleeing twin, shifting the harsh look to the other a split-second later.

“… You’re him? You’re the ugly, awful guy who’s stolen him from me?” Matthew snapped, a snarl trailing after. He clenched both hands into fists and squeezed them further upon seeing the two standing there as a couple.

“Mattie,” Alfred snapped back at him, hating to watch him behave so cruelly, when he knows it’s not his true nature, and hating it even more that Arthur believed it was, “that’s not how we talk to new houseguests. Stop it - stop staring at us like that.”

“I doubt he’s new… I’m sure you’ve brought him over here plenty of times before, and don’t tell me what to do!”

“I can because I’m not acting crazy! I’m trying to help!”

“Help with what? Help push me out of the picture so you two can be the fucking perfect pair you are!?”


It was Arthur’s yell that cut through the twin’s squabble. He had stepped between them, too, each hand on either one of their forearms as he reiterated himself for emphasis, “Enough. That’s enough.”

He opened his mouth to discipline them further, when a sharp pain was abruptly created at the side of his face. The force that struck him was so powerful that he was sent crashing back against the doorframe, something toppling onto him less than a second later. He gasped and fought to keep himself from choking on the lack of air. The wind had been knocked out of him, and there was no help in the fact that he was currently being suppressed by whatever had toppled onto him. As he realized what was happening, he gasped again.

Matthew had broken free of his grip, slapping him straight across the face in a fit of rage once he was able to do so. He had then tackled him, deepening the violence, and smashed them both to the floor. And now, through his tears and cursing sobs, his hands instinctively wrapped around Arthur’s throat. He must do this, it was to protect his own relationship with Alfred! It was all out of love! They were still in love! His hold displayed no mercy, seeming ready to murder Arthur without another thought - the poor mediator already suffering from absolutely no oxygen and barely enduring this strangling.

“Stop it, Mattie! This isn’t you, this shouldn’t be you!” Alfred roared, bolting forward to latch his arms around his twin’s waist and yank hard in an effort to end this horror. He yanked once again to pull him off completely, telling him, “And we shouldn‘t be together! Our relationship was a mistake, damn it, and I don’t ever want to deal with it again… I don’t want you…!”


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His Hagaren Heart

Reaching Reality - Part 5/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]

Title: Reaching Reality - Part 5/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, Canada, America/Canada, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: Arthur lowered his head to Alfred's nearest ear, and blew out a hot breath of air...



Arthur became completely still, and not simply because he could feel an orgasm rippling through his body, but also because… because… Fuck, had he actually heard that? He mentally repeated the twin’s name and winced at this revelation, the idea of that ruining his spiral down from his pleasure high. He then gave an involuntarily moan. Chest heaving and sweating, he managed to pull himself off of Alfred. He stood on shaky legs and stared at him for a moment, doubling over and gripping his knees an instant later.

No! How could this possibly happen!? What reason on earth could he have for this!? I have to find out!

“What… Ugh, wh-what’s with you, Alfred?” he demanded, dropping to the floor rather dramatically once he had spoken, folding his legs beneath him to soften the impact. His voice was unsteady in a mixture between the effects of intense sex and the shock of what he had heard. He was unable to hold himself up after such physical exertion - and how lovely it had been, not including that last bit - and was grateful that he at least had the strength to get away, safe on the cream-colored carpet. He blinked up at the other boy, and verbally attacked him again, more viciously, “Well!? The bloody fuck is wrong with you!?”

It was the most aggressive he had ever been with him, and he wasn’t remorseful for it. It was simply reactive to be shouting and using a rough vocabulary like this, how could one expect him to be a gentleman now? This was almost too much for him.

Alfred glanced away, he grabbed the nearest pillow to shamefully cover his messy lap, which was similar to Arthur’s, though it currently didn’t seem to matter to him. He adjusted his glasses and drew a deep breath, and yet no words were spoken, a painful amount of embarrassment and fear welling up inside him, cutting him off. He continued to avoid making eye contact and flinched when that beautiful, accented voice, now tainted by fury, roared at him for a third time.

“Tell me! Your twin’s name during our sex, are you serious!?”

“I, I…! I mean, w-we, uhm… I’m s-sorry--”


There was a loud smacking sound as the two blondes collided, Arthur having launched onto the bed and tackling Alfred out of sheer frustration - it was quite the impressive feat for a slim British boy with a tender backside to successfully knock over one of the school’s star football players. It was his emotional upset that drove him. He forced them to lock gazes, and Alfred, however, closed his eyes when he had the chance, guilt-stricken aquamarine irises hidden. And despite not having to look at Arthur and his cold stare, he could still feel him. They were flesh-to-flesh, the pillow pushed aside and his hips straddled, their stomachs flat on one another. He whimpered.

Arthur lowered his head to Alfred’s nearest ear, and blew out a hot breath of air. He hissed his name, and, upon receiving no reply, made a low growl in the back of his throat. A pause was taken, and he bit Alfred’s vulnerable earlobe a few seconds later and only released when he had something different to hiss at him.

“… Incest is a sick, twisted thing. Even more so with a sibling that close, with sex involved. Tch, you’re literally fucking yourself over,” he told him, hands moving to grip at the broad set of shoulders he found. His nails were dug into the skin, his negativity expressed further. He was pissed off. He wasn’t concerned or fearful, just pissed. And he believed that he had every right to be, hearing another’s name, an utterly bizarre name, from the mouth of his partner when he was the one providing the pleasure. “Do you understand me, Alfred?”

Of course he understood, he was simply terrified to face the facts, the facts of how wrong his relationship with his twin was and how it had come to light in the worst way possible. He obviously did feel sick and twisted, his stomach in knots and threatening to spill its contents. There was no escape, he was trapped beneath Arthur’s knowledge of the situation, and there was no consolation for him, any tender terms of ‘love’ or ‘darling’ replaced by the growling of his name. The idea of this saddened him, and he finally glanced back at Arthur, torn between pleading and arguing his case.

In the end, he merely chose to remain neutral and informative, “I… I understand you, yeah. Mattie and I are, uhm, I mean, we’ve been together before… It’s just always been like that for us, you know? I-It’s hard to explain it’s almost like an instinct.”

He then stared straight at Arthur, watching as he shifted off of him and turned around to perch on the edge of the bed, his own eyes fixed on that contrast of dark ink on pale skin before him. He bit his lip when there was no immediate response, and moved forward.

“Arthur, please…” he started with, wrapping his arms around him from behind and feeling his torso stiffening, “I’m so sorry… I know it’s wrong, a-and that’s why I think I’ve tried to become close with you, because I wanted a good, healthy relationship. I want to be normal, to have a real boyfriend. I want to be out in the open with you, but, but… I can’t because of Mattie. He’s so attached to me, and I’m the same, but I know better, and it’s so hard to--!”

Arthur held up his hand to stop him. A moment of silence was required for some thought here. He needed to sort out the swirling mass of hope, doubt, anger, and sympathy inside his mind. What a dilemma this was! He shook his head, remaining in Alfred’s hold, though exhaling with a disappointed-sounding sigh.

“You’re sweet, Alfred, you truly are, and you’re confused. It’s that ‘heroic nature’ you told me about a few weeks ago… You want to make everyone happy and to save us all - and you can’t.”

“I want to be happy with you!”

“And your twin’s feelings? Are you shoving them aside?”

“No. I want him to be happy, too, in his own way, without me having to be his lifeline.”

Shaking him off gently and standing, he shifted to gather his boxers from where they lay discarded on the carpet. When he had them on, he chose to take a break in dressing himself further in order to tell Alfred what he, no, what they were going to do next, “Matthew needs a talking to, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Clean yourself up and get dressed - we’re about to set things straight.”

Alfred nodded and followed suit. The sun had set at this point, and he had been instructed to not turn on any lights, something that oddly comforted him, leaving them to move amongst the shadows. Not without words, however, small bits of reassurance from Arthur heard on occasion and more apologies from Alfred himself. He couldn’t help it, he had never felt so out of his element before! As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wet washcloth wiping over his stained lower half and vision obscured, he wondered if his hands were shaking from eagerness or dread.


Questions, comments, concerns? Tell me~
((Sorry for the short chapter, guys.))

His Hagaren Heart

Reaching Reality - Part 4/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]

Title: Reaching Reality - Part 4/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, Canada, America/Canada, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: Squirming, Alfred read the recently-received text message from Arthur over and over again, the glare of his cell phone’s screen lighting up the desire on his face...


“So, what do you think? Did I balance this equation right?” Alfred asked his twin, blinking and holding his chemistry assignment up to him. It was one which they were each currently doing, as they had the same teacher for the subject, but not for the same hour.

Matthew shrugged with indifference, muttering, “It looks all right to me… Why don’t you pay more attention in class?”

There was no chance given to respond, his dark blonde head already aimed back down at his own paper. In his right hand was a mechanical pencil, its tip producing numbers and symbols, while his left hand, his entire left arm, to be exact, clutched at a large stuffed polar bear that sat in his lap. It was worn with childhood love, first received when he was no older than three, and had finally been retired from his toy chest to a high shelf in his room when he was at his ‘tween’ stage some years ago. Now, the bear was only taken up in his arms when he was feeling upset or afraid - and in this case, it seemed to be a severe mixture of both.

Alfred recognized this, and had no intention of disturbing him any further. It was a mid-September Sunday morning, and they were supposed to be spending quality time together working on homework while their father was out. This time was precious and needed to go well, unlike how things had seemed to be going lately. Because of this, he chose to agree and remain perky, “You’re right, I’m such a dumbass… Oh, hey, is that your French stuff? Cool.”

The nearly-completed chemistry assignment had been tucked away into Matthew’s binder, an annoyed effort to keep his twin from cheating, and had been replaced by a stapled packet of French conjugation tables. He merely nodded at the other’s babblings.

Alfred made the mistake of continuing, “That reminds me, when I was waiting for you after third hour on Friday, I saw you talking to your French teacher. And you were blushing, haha! I guess I can’t blame you, that guy is pretty good-looking, and he’s a young teacher, too. Isn’t French the language of love or whatever? I--”

“Shut up. Monsieur Bonnefoy is my teacher and nothing more. How could you even think of me having feelings for someone else? You’re the only one for me, Alfred, don’t be ridiculous,” Matthew snapped, sounding like a scolding, suspicious parent to their child. He narrowed his gaze and pushed his empty orange juice glass toward him, scoffing cruelly as he stood from the dining table, “Put that in the dishwasher. And try not to break it like you did the picture frame.”

He strode off to the living room.

With a frustrated sound escaping him, Alfred followed, abandoning their homework. He peeked in at his twin, already feeling that undeniable ache in his heart as he watched him curl up on the edge of the couch, arms crossed. He hesitated before moving to sit beside him. He wrapped his own arms around him, their matching tank tops brushing together, the only sound to be heard in the open space of the room… It was soon accompanied by Matthew’s sniffles, his eyes welling up with tears and his chest beginning to heave in the embrace, which he buried himself into.

“Why do you do this to me? You-You’re awful, you hate me,” he sobbed, nestling against him. He didn’t actually return the embrace, however, hands clenched into weak fists that punched at anything he could find. “What-What’s wrong with you? You’ve changed. Tell me you have, don’t lie to me… d-don’t lie…!”

Alfred understood that it was best to deny this, obviously, wanting to ease the emotional pain of his twin and wanting to keep himself and Arthur, his feisty British sex secret, out of trouble. He was being selfish, for the most part. It was all true - he had changed, and their relationship was deteriorating. But he couldn’t allow Matthew to realize that he knew this. That he was slowly accepting it.

“I’m sorry. This year has been hard for us both, believe me.”

“No, you can’t just say that! I won’t believe that you’re so stressed that you can’t love me!”

“… Mattie, of course I love you. I love you so, so much.”

“Then why do I feel so alone!?”

As Alfred lay in his bed some two or three hours later, he reflected on these words with a softly grumbling stomach, having skipped lunch in favor of comforting Matthew. Not that he had particularly enjoyed comforting him, or felt that it was necessary, when one took the time to judge how much exaggerated sobbing and vicious whining had been involved. He had done it out of instinct. And out of self-interest in keeping down the notions regarding his dirty little secret, somehow not experiencing a terribly large amount of guilt. His twin had been lost in sorrow because of the negative developments in their relationship - therefore, he inherently knew that he himself was the only one able to amend the situation, still managing to hold his new connection with Arthur at a higher level.

Damn it, his poor sibling didn’t deserve this, and he was making it all worse by leading him on and losing interest in their deep, sexual attachment. He thought of that lithe body writhing beneath him, gasping and thrusting and quickly giving into the heated dominance. A shiver passed through him and he touched the very body he was imagining, currently resting beside him. The shared scent of musk from their lovemaking drew him in, soft skin and sweet breath doing the same… And yet…

‘Sorry we couldn’t see each other this weekend, love. But how about next Friday night at my place? The parents will be out of town, I just found out.’

Squirming, Alfred read the recently-received text message from Arthur over and over again, the glare of his cell phone’s screen lighting up the desire on his face. He glanced anxiously at the dozing Matthew beside him before typing out an eager reply and sending it. He swallowed back his present problems and looked forward to the future.

“I had to lie to Mattie,” Alfred was explaining less than a week later, on that designated Friday night, “I told him that I had a football players-only party tonight. I couldn’t get out otherwise, you know?”

Arthur stared at him. The front door to his family’s two-story townhouse was closed behind them, and he nodded in a thoughtful manner. He rubbed at his chin, his stare shifting to wander over the main room’s beige wallpaper and countryside furnishings, eventually returning to his houseguest. Hm.

“… Why is that? Why do you need to lie to him? Are you ashamed of us?” he questioned in a rather sharp tone, though it was understandable. He certainly didn’t want to be hidden away due to whatever ridiculous reasons that were imposed by the quiter of the Jones twins.

Alfred shook his head, grabbing Arthur’s nearest hand and pulling him in for a kiss, saying when they were apart, “I’m not ashamed of us. I really like you, and what we have, it’s just… difficult with Mattie.”

“How so?”

“We’re, uhm, close to each other. So, I doubt he would like the idea of me having… having a boyfriend,” he told him, unsure of whether or not that could be considered a lie. Not that it mattered much, since Arthur appeared to be soaking it in and believing it. Whew. “He’d probably think that I’d forget about him. I wouldn’t - but he always worries, so I hope to save him the trouble by not telling him.”

Arthur flexed his fingers, sighing and perking his head in the direction of the townhouse’s staircase. His voice was gentle, “Then I suppose that’s fine. I thought that maybe you were afraid of your sexuality… I was upset the other day when you wouldn’t hold my hand in the hallway, though I understand now that you simply didn’t want your twin to see.”

He let their hands drop and wrapped both arms around Alfred’s neck, instead. Their lips met as he stood on the tips of his toes, the fabric of their school uniforms rustling together. An accented chuckle escaped him when Alfred’s glasses bumped his nose, while Alfred shivered upon detecting the metallic smoothness of his piercing on the inside of his mouth. When they each took a full breath of air almost a minute later, he said, “Try to get him used to the idea, mm? I hate to limit myself to whenever we’re behind closed doors. I want to be affectionate with you in public, too.”

The thick carpeting on the stairs silenced their footsteps during the climb, however, their smacking kisses and hissed, naughty promises along the way were hardly silent. When they reached Arthur’s bedroom, dim with the fading twilight from his partially-curtained window, everything suddenly became even louder, starting off with creaking of bed beneath their combined weight. The sheets and pillows, which had previously been perfectly tidy, were soon ruffled - similar to themselves. Blazers were unbuttoned, dress pants were unzipped, and limbs were entangled…

“Good God, Alfred. You’re so big,” Arthur purred, one hand feeling his length through his exposed boxers. He squeezed at the base and produced an intense groan from the younger boy. He bit his lower lip and couldn’t help himself from repeating the action, also choosing to grind his front against the strong thigh he was straddling. They groaned simultaneously, and their gazes locked a moment later. They were equally motionless until a grin began to spread across Arthur’s face.

“Well,” he started with, leaning down to kiss at Alfred’s jaw, “do you want to? I do have a box of condoms for us, and also some lubricant. I nicked it from one of those sex shops on the East side of town… It’s vanilla-scented, love…”

“Yeah,” Alfred replied, fairly monosyllabic in comparison to the other’s seemingly drawn-out chatter. He listened and became nervous.

“Brilliant! You want to top, then?”


Arthur raised an eyebrow, asking as he rubbed his right hand over the tense shoulder he found, “Everything all right? We don’t have to--”

“No! I, I mean… I want to,” he said firmly, his features displaying determination in the dim light. He held the smaller blonde tightly against him for a few seconds and forced himself to relax. Another kiss or two was exchanged, and they undressed themselves entirely once they were satisfied and certain. Once Alfred believed to have perfectly pushed his twin from his mind. He refused to have any thought of Matthew here, despite the fact that he envisioned him upon seeing Arthur’s naked form before him. It was such a pain, fuck, this was so overwhelming for him, he had never had done this with anyone else!

From his nightstand’s drawer, the top covered with thick novels and unfinished works of embroidery, Arthur extracted a condom and the bottle of lubricant. Soon enough, the air around them smelled contrastingly of sex and vanilla. Earlier doubts had, hopefully, disappeared, especially when they truly started moving… They had decided to use the reverse cowgirl position - indeed, they had both giggled immaturely at the name - and were utterly adoring it together. Arthur had his legs spread wide, every rock of his hips forward sending pangs of pleasure pricking over Alfred’s nerves. He gripped Arthur’s throbbing erection from where he sat gyrating in his lap, and stroked. He was approaching his climax, sweating and pushing and whispering obscene things, when he called out in ecstasy. His back arched and he shuddered, a name heard.


Questions, comments, concerns?