Looking at his reflection in the small circle he'd wiped in the fogged bathroom mirror Feliks popped his rose-pink lips and smiled at the blur of Toris, reflected in the frosted pane standing, leaning in the doorway.

Feeling the pull of the space between them, Feliks turned and they stepped into each other's arms.

Toris pressed his lips to Feliks', tasted cherries, and drew back with a gasp.

"Is that...?"He whispered into the close, warm air between their mouths.

Feliks grinned as Toris drew his thumb along the edge of his lower lip, wiping a smudge of lipgloss away. "It is. The exact same brand as the one you used to buy for me, back in Poland, do you, like, remember?"

Toris tried to frown to show his confusion but found that he must have been out of practice because his frown was more like a smile.

"I know." Feliks beamed "When we left I, like, couldn't find it anywhere. I searched every store, like, as soon as I touched down in England and all the imported goods stores and even online but it was, like, no where. But then I found this tiny little adorable Polish food store, where I get my Polish snacks, and right at, like, the back I found it, like, the exact same lipgloss you used to get me. When we where together, in Lithuania."

Toris smiled widely and, closing their eyes, they pressed their foreheads together. It was almost as if when they opened their eyes again they would be standing in green fields that would stretch far into the blue distance, over rolling hills of grass, the smell of trees after rain on the breeze. They would be in a place and a time far, far away.

"It almost feels like a lifetime ago." Toris whispered, words brushing Feliks' sparkling lips.

"It was." He sighed.

Toris could almost smell the sunshine of those carefree days on the hill top. Talking about dragons and how they where going to get married, the taste of fresh cherries...

From half-lidded eyes Toris watched Feliks' lips part to form his next words. "...Did you ever think of going back there?"

"Every day." Toris moved his head back so Feliks' green eyes where in focus. "Not one day went by when I didn't think about our time there. Sometimes I would smell cherries and someone would laugh and I would think it was you, just for a moment and..." he choked on the spike of memory-pain, muted, but recognisable as pain. "Not one second went by when I didn't miss you. I thought about our lives together on the continent and a part of me longs to be back there..."

They spend a moment breathing out the air of their memories, hilltop breeze and sunshine, and breath in the air of their present; hot steam from the shower and London's brisk night-time warmed by radiators.

Toris takes Feliks' soft, cold hand in his, broad and hot. "But that's our past, not our future." He breaths the last of the memory out, and it dissipates, gone. "I feel like we can make something here..."

Feliks startles slightly at this, widening the intimate bubble they created. "Do you not want to go back... home?"

The word fell flat as it never used to do all those years ago. Home just wasn't that place any more and in their own ways they wondered if that man was to blame for that. But in actuality he wasn't, not in that way.

Toris steps toe to toe with Feliks, hands clasped between them. "I think we can make a home. A new home. Here."

"But I thought we where only going to study abroad, and then...?"

"Feliks." Toris holds Feliks' hand firmly, in the way he did when he wanted Feliks to hear something important. "Wherever you are, that's home. Whenever we're together, we're home. Never forget that."

Feliks looked Toris in the eyes. For a few moments there's silence inside the bathroom, the sound of traffic beyond quiet and unobtrusive as he reads his lover, searching his warm, brown eyes.

Feliks squeezes Toris' hands back and smiles, small and pink. "Your right, Liet. We can do anything. And I'm not afraid of the future if you're with me."

Toris' grin lights up his face. It's as though darkness and fear had never touched it. He picked Feliks up, broad forearms secure against his narrow waist and Feliks' pink and crème skirts ripple as he spins them in fast circles.

He set Feliks, laughing, to his feet. "I'm going to get a job while you focus on studying. I was gone for so long, and since I'm an international student, the university thought I had dropped out and had no one to contact. I'm going to work hard and save up money. Then, I'm going to marry you again."

"What?" Feliks' eyes go round, his mouth moue.

Toris' grin goes soft and crooked at the edges as he looks at how the bathroom light catches in Feliks' eyes. "Now that it's legal I won't settle for a lesser marital status. I want to marry you, Feliks. Properly. I love you, Feliks."

"I love you too, Toris!" Feliks hurls himself into Toris' arms and they spin wildly, almost floating off their feet.

To Alfred, tha_

Backspace.

My Dearest Al_

Backspace backspace.

My Alfred, whom I owe_

Definite backspace.

To Alfred, my lo_

Arthur held the backspace too relentlessly under his finger and cursed as a few ending sentences disappeared into cyberspace. He hit undo and they blinked back into existence.

The tap of rapidly clicking keys and dark muttering had been the only sounds for the last solid few hours. The room was illuminated only by the soft glow of a lamp and Arthur's computer screen.

He'd been typing out the dedication for, what felt like the last few months. He'd tapped out a few initial sentences and then quickly realised that he just couldn't simplify what he felt for Alfred into a single line of text. So he expanded, and edited, and cut pieces out entirely, then typed them back up almost word for word, then deleted them again, with a viscous hand.

Arthur sat back and rubbed his fingertips against his chin.

For a while now he'd been trying to articulate his feelings about Alfred. Both verbally and in writing. He wanted to let Alfred know how he felt, but there was something stopping him, something disgustingly like fear, like the void. He and Alfred slept together every night, and had sex whenever they wanted, and in those close, hot moments something gripping tight in his chest relaxed and almost fell away. He would open his mouth to expand upon what he'd said that first time, whole poems, soliloquies, monologues on what Alfred made him feel, and then the fist of fear would clamp shut again and so would his mouth. He could tell that Alfred knew, could read the conflict in his eyes, but he never pushed Arthur, and for that he was grateful.

Arthur didn't want to say that he had trust issues, but every time Alfred sat down amongst his work, or he walked by one of his psychology books, set innocently on whatever surface, inside Arthur a small voice whispered the truth, not harshly, not self-loathingly as it once had, but still the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts.

The sound of a key fitting into the door broke Arthur from his reverie and he hit minimise with lightning speed.

Alfred threw the door open, hollering and laden down with a shopping bag, his satchel, and a plate with a plastic cover over it. He threw on the lights and pulled off the layers he had bundled up in against the cold; a light scarf that Arthur had tied around his neck that morning, tugging on it to pull him down for a kiss before he left, and the worn old bomber jacket were hung haphazardly on a peg. Arthur let his eyes trail appreciatively over the soft, dark sweater Alfred had on. It stretched slightly over his broad chest and shoulders and it was Arthur's favourite.

He tossed his satchel and the shopping bag onto the sofa and skipped over, carrying the plate in his hands, to where Arthur sat at his desk. Alfred bowed and lifted the plastic lid with a flourish. Beneath it was a triple layer, deep red cake with white frosting crowning the top.

"Oh, Alfred." Arthur raised his fingers to his mouth. "Red velvet cake. That's my favourite."

Alfred ducked and kissed him on the nose. "I know. I made it at Feliks and Toris' so it would be a surprise, a 'you're awesome and deserve cake' present, for finishing your book."

The cake looked rich and sweet and Arthur imagined it cut into a wedge and placed on the delicate china plate he had bought at one of their favourite charity shops, he imagines it next to a hot cup of tea in a cup that matches. He had seen the set, with their scalloped edges and tiny, hand-painted flowers, just like the ones he'd always imagined having, and he'd fallen in love.

"You get more when you get published." Alfred gave him his lopsided grin and Arthur slid his hand over Alfred's jaw, feeling the the chill of outside that still clung to him and the slight scratch of new stubble on the palm of his hand.

"In that case I owe you dozens of scones, shall I make you some?"

Alfred's eyebrow twitched "That won't be necessary."

Arthur tutted but tilted his head and pressed his lips to Alfred's. He breathed in through his nose and broke the kiss quietly. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck. "How was the lecture, professor." He murmured.

Alfred grinned against Arthur's lips. "I'm not a professor." He said between kisses "But they...really...liked...my talk mmmmm on...what was my talk on?" He asked dreamily, pressing forwards, seeking Arthur's lips with his own.

Arthur disconnected their mouths long enough to say "Fear stimulus." then began to explore Alfred's mouth with his tongue.

Abruptly Alfred broke away with a "That reminds me!" and Arthur found himself tonguing at open air. He sighed and leaned against the desk, watching Alfred putter about, putting the cake on the kitchen table and taking his laptop and notes out of his satchel.

Arthur smiled to himself, glanced at his laptop, and head over to where Alfred was sitting on the sofa, his work fanned out on the coffee table before him. Arthur picked up the shopping bag and walked around the kitchen island to put the food away.

Once again their tiny, rented flat filled with the quiet sound of typing.

"What's the next lecture going to be on?" Arthur asked from where he was putting milk in the fridge.

"I'm torn between PTS and Treatments or The Unconscious' Effect on the Conscious. Oh, Arthur." Arthur turned around, a bag of sugar in one hand, just as Alfred caught him up in his arms. "The magazine says they'll publish my paper."

Arthur let out a delighted cry and threw his arms around Alfred's neck, as well as he could with the shopping in his hands. "That's amazing, Alfred." He smiles into the shoulder of Alfred's sweater, voice muffled. He marvels sometimes at this man's ability to turn bad luck around on it's head, and make something good out of it.

A small mewling draws their attention to the space around their ankles where a tiny black kitten with a shivering tail was crying, big blue eyes fixed on the shopping in Arthur's hand.

Alfred bent down and scooped the tiny cat up with one hand, mindful of the blue cast on it's back left leg. It extended it's tiny claws and stretched it's legs awkwardly, but otherwise didn't protest.

They had been walking along the streets not far from their new apartment. It had been late evening and the sun had set some time ago. In the darkness Arthur almost hadn't seen it, a small, black ball of fluff, sitting in the middle of the road. Arthur's breath had caught as the glow of approaching headlamps had lit up the street. He pulled his arm from Alfred's and dashed towards the tiny creature. He felt the car lights bright on his face, heard the blare of a horn, grabbed the tiny ball of fluff, and sprinted to the curb, where he caught his foot and stumbled slightly.

"Arthur!" Alfred called loudly.

Breathing hard, Arthur looked back across the street where Alfred stood waiting for a break in the traffic, eyes wide and fists out of his pockets and clenched by his sides.

As Alfred jogged through a gap in the cars Arthur looked down at the shivering animal in his hands. It's ears twitched and as his heart slowed down he noticed that it had dug it's sharp, needle-like claws into his wrist to hold on, the pain only just starting to register.

Alfred's hand closed around Arthur's bicep. "Arthur, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Alfred." Arthur watched Alfred checking him over for injuries. "Al, I'm fine."

Alfred looked at him, then made himself release Arthur's arm. "What the hell did you think you where doing, running into the road like that?!"

"I dunno." He mumbled into his scarf.

"Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed "You could have been really hurt! Do you have any idea how scared I was seeing that car heading straight for you?"

"M' sorry."

"God, for a second I really thought it was going to hit you! I can't believe you would just throw yourself into danger like that!"

"I said I'm sorry, ok!" Arthur snapped. "Where do you get off telling me what to do, like a child. You hypocrite, I was just did what you do all the bloody time!"

They where silent for a moment, the sound of London traffic ebbing around them, and somewhere, softly, music was playing.

"You're right, Arthur, I can't tell you what to do. You're an adult and you can make your own decisions."

Arthur scowled at the shivering kitten in his hands. "I just wanted to do the right thing."

"Oh, hun, "Alfred held Arthur in his arms, gently so as not to crush the kitten. It mewled and they looked down at it between them. "We should get this critter to a vet, looks like it's hurt it's leg."

Thankfully the kitten didn't have to be put down and instead the vet strapped up it's leg and Alfred and Arthur found themselves the unexpected owners of a tiny, six week old kitten.

Arthur called her Pan, after the mischievous spirit of A Midsummer Night's Dream, because he kept finding her in the most bewildering places. He had no idea what she would be capable of when she was out of her cast.

Arthur took a can of cat food from the cupboard and spooned out some food into Pan's dish. Alfred set her down and she immediately stuck her head into the bowl.

"How was counselling?" Arthur asked, watching Alfred's shoulders hunch where he was crouched, running his hand along the kitten's tiny back.

"Fine." He stood up and stretched. "She says she's concerned about what my lectures might make me re-live. Well not concerned exactly, more like she thought we should keep any risks in mind."

"What did you tell her?"Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist.

Alfred rested his hands on Arthur's arms. "That I love lecturing and greatly appreciate the university giving me the opportunity to use my own experiences to further education, even after I graduated. And I know my own triggers."

"Well, she's been invaluable over these past months and if she's suggested we keep it in mind we'll keep it in mind." He squeezed Alfred's waist. "How do you feel?"

Alfred looked over Arthur's head. "Well, the lectures make me think about it, of course. But it's much healthier to think about it and talk about PTS, than to pretend it never happened."

"I know." They smiled at each other and shared a quick kiss before Alfred went back to his laptop and notes, and Arthur went about making two cups of tea.

Convincing Alfred to go to the therapist had taken more effort than it should have to get a psychology student to see a professional psychologist. Eventually, even after Arthur called Feliks as backup, Arthur had to promise that he would get his own therapist. After all, there where his own issues he had to resolve.

So Arthur and Alfred caught the bus once a week to the same building, where they would sit in the same waiting room before being called into separate rooms on the opposite sides of the hall from each other.

The first time they had gone Arthur had come out of the hour- long session, his past heavy on his shoulders, and met Alfred back in the waiting room. He had looked just like Arthur felt; exhausted and emotionally stretched.

On the bus back to their apartment Arthur had sat, heart beat loud in his ears as he thought about completing the first assignment his councillor had set. Head still tilted towards the window, he glanced down at Alfred's hand where it rested on the thigh of his jeans.

Slowly, Arthur took his hand out of his coat pocket.

Don't embarrass yourself. A voice hissed in his head. Don't be pathetic.

Arthur ignored the dying voice of the void, screwed up his courage, reached out, fingertips cold and clammy, and gently placed his hand on top of Alfred's.

Alfred had looked up, broken out of his own train of thought, grinned at Arthur, and laced their fingers tightly together.

Accomplishment burned happily in Arthur's chest and he returned his gaze to the dirty window, cheeks pink, and smiled.

A few weeks after their first therapy session Arthur returned to the apartment from the university to find someone standing outside his building.

Arthur stopped.

He stared.

Then he called out, uncertainly "Laura?"

She looked up and smiled.

Clamping down on the cacophony of thoughts tumbling around his head, Arthur set the tea pot onto the tray with it's matching set of cups and saucers and brought it over to where Laura sat on the sofa. It was so strange seeing her there, so out of place, it almost felt as though Arthur was walking through a bizarre dream.

She smiled at his tea-set, accepted a cup and went straight to the point. "When they told me you sold your house I didn't know what to think."

Arthur sipped at his over-sweetened tea and wondered how many details he could leave out. "How did you find me?"

"Complete chance." She sipped and hummed "That's nice."

"You know how I love my tea."

They sat in silence for a while, awkwardly half turned toward each other.

"I first saw you on a bus, you where with this cute guy, blond, glasses."

"That's Alfred." Arthur told her, a small smile threatened at the corner of his mouth.

"Saw you again in town, followed you back here. I didn't show up immediately because I didn't know how you would feel, seeing me. But I wanted to see you so I came back and just hung around until you came home."

Arthur ran his fingers over the delicate handle of the cup.

"So that guy seems nice. I'm happy for you, if you're happy." She turned further towards him.

"I am happy, Laura. I'm really happy." And to his horror Arthur's eyes misted. She let him rub at them in silence.

"What about you, Laura? Are you all right? You're not still..."

"I am." She cut him off.

"Oh, Laura..." Arthur whispered.

"Don't you 'Oh, Laura' me!" She set her tea on the coffee table and brought her knee onto the sofa to face Arthur. "I know you had a terrible time of it, and I know it was killing you, and god I couldn't stand to see you like that, but I love my job, Arthur, I really do. I was just in Belgium with this one man, very keen, kept throwing money at me to make me stay, I'm lucky enough to be in a position where I can call the shots. I know this life isn't for every one but it suits me damn fine."

Arthur sighed. "I know, Laura."

"I tried to keep in touch, but you know contact is difficult to keep up in our different circles."

"I know, Laura."

They sit and talk as their tea goes cold until Alfred comes home. He opens the door and the surprise on his face makes Arthur smile. He sees Laura to the door, assures her that he's fine and says goodbye to his old colleague for, perhaps, the last time.

That afternoon Boots came on the radio. Arthur stopped as it played. It felt like the whole world came to a silent stand-still but that song. It floated from the speakers of the tiny machine where it had been plugged in at the kitchen wall, close to where Arthur was washing up dishes and Alfred was drying.

Alfred turned to look at him, eyes wide with recognition.

Arthur held the plate he had been scouring and listened. Then slowly he resumed cleaning and gently, softly, hummed along.

Arthur woke to the quiet sound of Alfred's nightmare.

He rolled over and placed his hand on the side of Alfred's face, automatically making hushing noises before he was even completely awake.

Alfred's eyes opened in the dark and he shifted and kicked, moaning quietly.

"Alfred, darling." Arthur murmured, running his hand over Alfred's shoulder and side. He watched Alfred huff and the lines on his forehead relax as his eyes grew focused.

Alfred closed his eyes and sighed. Then he rolled onto his back and rubbed his hand over his face.

Arthur rested his hand on Alfred's broad chest, feeling the pounding of his heart begin to slow through the hot cotton, then rolled towards the bedside table behind him, picked up the small silver and black instrument that rested there. He handed the gripper to Alfred and settled back against his side, hand over his heart.

Alfred worked the gripper in his hand. Arthur smiled at the memory of the day they'd taken the arm brace off. Alfred had been horrified at how his forearm had shrunk despite, through his laughter, Arthur trying to reassure him the atrophy would go away with exersize.

The grippers provided a nice way of simultaneously rebuilding strength in his arm and a gentle distraction from nightmares.

Arthur felt the muscle under his hand tense and relax rapidly with the squeaking of the little exerciser. "Feeling all right, love?"

"Yeah. I was back in the court room...Testifying again...He was just sitting there...Watching me." He squeezed the gripper, then rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around Arthur's back. Arthur kissed his forehead. "It's hard to shake off the feeling of being watched." Alfred whispered.

"I know, darling." Arthur murmured sleepily.

In the quiet Alfred grinned and pulled Arthur closer against him. "You called me darling."

Arthur breathed in sharply through his nose, and suddenly was wide awake. "I'm sorry, I.."

"No." Alfred smiled. "I like it." He felt Arthur's cheek heat under his and he nuzzled into Arthur's neck, pressing kisses to the soft skin.

Arthur gasped and laughed. "Alfred, stop, you know I'm ticklish there!" Grinning, Arthur squirmed and pushed against Alfred's chest but Alfred rolled them so his weight held Arthur down. Alfred threw the gripper over the side of the bed and Arthur let out a noise that was caught between a laugh and a groan as their hips where pressed together, bringing up his knees and running his instep against Alfred's calf.

Arthur's chuckles devolved into gasps as Alfred tongued hotly at that place just under Arthur's jaw that made his toes curl.

"Oh, you're such a bastard." He breathed and dragged his nails down Alfred's muscled back in retaliation.

Alfred sat up and Arthur dropped his hands to his hips as they rocked against each other. Together they watched each other grow hard in their boxers, round and pressed warmly together between their thighs. Alfred placed his hands on either side of Arthur's chest, arched his back and dragged his hips against the man beneath him.

They laughed breathlessly at the noise that had forced its way from Arthur's throat as he tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. "Alfred, come back" Arthur breathed, taking Alfred's head in his hands "Alfred, it's cold."

Alfred grinned and grabbed the edges of the duvets and blankets they'd piled onto their bed. The result was a warm nest they could cuddle close in, wrapped around each other in the dark, shutting out the rest of the world and the chill of winter that crept in under their doors and windows. Alfred brought the blankets over their heads and cocooned himself and his lover in soft, dark, warmth.

Alfred pushed Arthur's shirt up his chest, running his fingers over the scars there and kissed and sucked at his nipples. Arthur groaned and carded his fingers through Alfred's soft, golden hair, feeling the locks grow hot and damp under his hands.

Releasing Alfred head where he had been pressing it against him, Arthur grabbed fistfuls of Alfred's shirt and started dragging it up over his back. Alfred bit Arthur's nipple, laughed at his yelp, and yanked his shirt over his shoulders and threw it on the floor, pulling Arthur's off to join it.

Kissing his way down Arthur's clenching stomach, Alfred wrapped an arm around Arthur's slim waist and with his other hand, yanked Arthur's boxers down. Arthur's balls where soft and warm against his knuckles and his cock fell, heavy against his stomach.

The muscles all along Arthur's spine tensed drawing in his shoulders and dipping a hollow into his stomach, desperately he rocked his hips up into empty air. Alfred's forehead pressed hard against Arthur's diaphragm and a thrill of pleasure shot through his thighs and up his spine at the pressure. He pushed Alfred's hair off his face and gripped his head with both hands as Alfred tongued at the head of his cock. Arthur mewled and shifted his feet restlessly.

As Alfred laved at Arthur's cock lazily he pulled Arthur's underwear off and tossed it away. He hooked his hands behind Arthur's soft thighs, pushing them up and holding them firmly to Arthur's sides. Arthur breathed harder and grew warmer as he felt Alfred's thumbs press bruises into his skin. Alfred drew his tongue to the base of Arthur's cock, to his balls, and sucked a red mark into the place where Arthur's thigh met his hip. As he ran his tongue over the fluttering skin of Arthur's hole he had to press Arthur harder into the mattress, keeping him still at he bucked and wailed.

Arthur's ankles rolled and his toes flexed as Alfred sucked a kiss to Arthur's hole, then pressed his tongue hard against it. Arthur's stomach muscles burned as he curled forwards as the tip of Alfred's tongue pushed inside.

Alfred pulled away and pressed a parting kiss to Arthur's hole. Arthur collapsed back, muscles burning, breathing hard, and stretching his arms over his head. Alfred released Arthur's legs and let his feet rest on the mattress again. He ran his warm hands over Arthur's soft thighs, stroked one of the scars gently, then placed his hands on Arthur's knees and pushed them apart.

He slowed as Arthur's knees neared the mattress and he watched Arthur arch and raise his arms above his head, pushing his hands under the pillow, eyes fixed on Alfred. His thighs burned as Alfred continued the pressure until Arthur's thighs where flat to the mattress, Alfred between them, watching his cock jump against his stomach. Arthur's flexibility made Alfred's cock hard.

Alfred leaned down, pressing their hips together, resting his weight on Arthur's body, and kissed Arthur. He gasped wetly against Alfred's mouth as he dragged his nails along Arthur's spread legs, feeling the stretched ligaments and muscle under his skin.

Arthur wiggled and Alfred turned his head to kiss at Arthur's neck on the delicate skin below his ear. Alfred stripped off his own boxers and threw them over the side of the bed. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's shoulders as he opened the bedside draw and rooted through it for the bottle of lube.

As Alfred squeezed some of the cool gel onto his fingers, warming it as Arthur took the corners of the blankets and pulled them back over Alfred's shoulders.

Arthur pulled on Alfred's hair as he pressed their mouths together, pushing his tongue in to meet Alfred's as his fingers circled Arthur's hole.

"I could just take all of you right now." Arthur whispered desperately. His knees lifted as Alfred's first finger pushed inside. "Your whole cock right now."

Alfred groaned and mouthed at Arthur's neck. "No" He murmured "Gonna take you slowly, make you open and ah" Arthur ran his nails hard along Alfred's back "wet, so I can just slip in. No pain."

Arthur knew that he pressed Alfred like this so he could hear him reiterate his promises every time. His promises to never make him bleed, never hurt him, never make him feel like he was being used. Testing Alfred's resolve of steel and hearing him tirelessly repeat his promises made something burn white hot deep in Arthur.

"Please, Alfred." Arthur moaned as Alfred fucked him slowly with his finger. "I want to feel my ass stretch around your cock."

Alfred pressed his second finger inside and felt Arthur's moan through his throat, where he hid his face. "When you're ready." It made his heart beat harder to re-establish their pact every single time "No pain."

"No pain." Arthur whispered almost unconsciously.

Arthur wrapped his legs around Alfred's waist as he pressed the third finger in, fucking slowly and deep. He crooked his fingers into such a well learned angle it was almost reflex, and hit Arthur's prostate. Arthur wailed and bucked against him, mouth open and white stars dancing in the dark.

"I think you can fit four in." Alfred bites at Arthur's jaw and squeezes more lube onto his fingers.

"Alfred" A white hot spike of arousal courses through Arthur's body as he feels Alfred push in another finger. It's tight, but Alfred goes slowly and opens Arthur up and presses in.

Arthur rocks his hips hard against Alfred, fucking himself on his fingers and rubbing his cock against Alfred's muscular stomach.

Alfred's driving him wild and he can't take it any more. He clasps Alfred's face in his hands, meets his eyes and says "Alfred, make love to me."

Alfred groans and presses his face to Arthur's, knowing he's being played on his romantic side. Their noses bump and Arthur listens to the sounds they make breathing each others air and the wet noises of Alfred smoothing more lube over his cock.

Alfred leans over Arthur, the heat between their bodies burning away the cold night air, he presses his thumbs to Arthur's wet hole and opens him up to take the head of his cock. They groan as Alfred pushes shallowly inside.

Arthur hardly breaths as Alfred rocks against the resistance inside him. He kisses Arthur, panting hotly against his lips, pushes, draws back and works the head against his opening, then pushes back up.

Alfred runs his hands over Arthur's chest and presses down on Arthur's clenching stomach, pushing him into the mattress. His other hand continues down over Arthur's wet cock and he presses his palm to Arthur's balls, fingers close to where he's opening Arthur up. Arthur grins "Yes" he hisses against Alfred's mouth, loving how Alfred knows how to work him. His toes curl as Alfred's cock pushes through the resistance and his hips bump against Arthur's ass.

Alfred's hips work between Arthur's thighs

Arthur tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Holding on to Alfred's broad shoulders and feeling the muscle shift under his hot skin.

Arthur wraps his legs tighter around Alfred's waist and locks his ankles together, thighs wide apart.

Pleasure burns liquid in Arthur's stomach, drawing him in, closer to Alfred, curling his knees to his chest. He pulls on Alfred's shoulders as he fucks deep into him.

There's a rush of cold air as Alfred sits up, and taking Arthur by the upper-arms, hauls him up to sit on his lap. Alfred's cock hits Arthur's sweet-spot deep inside him and he cries out loudly. Alfred grabs the ends of a blanket and shrugs it onto his shoulders, wrapping it around Arthur and holding him tight to his chest. Arthur arches his back and Alfred's cock hits that spot relentlessly and Arthur's groans escalate to an almost constant wail.

Sweat makes their stomachs and thighs slick as Alfred fucks Arthur with enough power to bounce Arthur hard on his cock.

Arthur opens his eyes and forces them to focus on Alfred's face. He's already looking at him, eyes fixed on Arthur's slack jaw and red cheeks, fuzzy eyebrows drawn together.

"Arthur" he breaths.

"Alfred" Arthur cries out and closes his eyes against another shock of agonising pleasure. He forces them open again. "Alfred, I..."

It's that moment again.

The moment where his heart is on the tip of his tongue, it's all ready to come out, but the fist of fear clamps hard in his chest. And Alfred's looking at him. And he knows. He knows Arthur wants to say something to him. But it's gone again and the pleasure slips from Arthur's face as it closes off and he feels the frustration choke tight in his chest. It's enough to ruin his orgasm. He feels the high sicken and slip away.

Alfred stops moving and Arthur's removes his hands from his shoulders and crosses his arms. He wants to close his legs and roll away from Alfred. Christ, he's really ruined it this time, Alfred's still hard inside him while his own erection is flagging rapidly, leaving that itching, burning need unfulfilled. Maybe he can just suck Alfred off and pretend this never happened.

Alfred presses his face to Arthur's neck, kisses it once, lightly, then clamps his mouth there and blows a huge, loud raspberry.

Arthur squalls and flails but Alfred has his arms clamped around Arthur's shoulders and Arthur can only press his fists to Alfred's chest.

"Alfred! Alfred!" He kicks and the bands loosen in his chest and he starts to laugh.

Alfred leans back and smiles into Arthur's red face. Arthur smiles back, small, and covers his face with his hands. "I'm so embarrassed." He groans, voice muffled.

"Why?" Alfred takes his hands in his and moves them away from his face.

"Because...you didn't..."

"Arthur. I love you. I love being close to you just as much as I love orgasming with you, and contrary to common belief those two things don't always happen. Orgasm isn't the only conclusion of sex."

Arthur tried not to think about the scores of men he knew would scoff at that belief.

Alfred looked into Arthur's face, trying to meet his eyes.

"Are you ready to talk about it?"

Arthur looked at the duvet beneath them and thought about saying no again. Alfred would lay them down, kiss him good night and wait to see if Arthur felt like sleeping in his arms. If he didn't Alfred would kiss him again and they would lie back to back until Arthur felt the frustration bubble down enough for him to wrap his arms around Alfred and fall asleep.

Arthur thought about saying no again, but his breath caught when he realised that he was ready.

"I love you, Alfred." The sparkle in Alfred's eyes as he said it and the grin that lit up his face in the dark encouraged Arthur to continue. "It's not just that I love you, but that I trust you. I've talked about this for hours and hours in therapy and I want you to know that I trust you. Completely. Which is amazing because" he laughed self-deprecatingly "I've never trusted any one before. I never imagined I would be able to. I love you, Alfred, and I trust you."

Alfred hauled Arthur against his chest and kissed him hard on the mouth. "God I love you, Arthur. I love you so much."

Alfred pressed kisses all over Arthur's face. He shifted beneath Arthur who gasped at the spike of pleasure. "Alfred you're still hard."

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I love being inside you. I love you being inside me. I just love everything we do. I'll just..." He moved to pull out but Arthur pressed down roughly. Alfred chocked, his eyelids fluttering.

"No, keep going." Arthur said breathlessly.

"You sure?" Alfred gasped, a light tremor running through his thighs.

"Yes" Arthur wrapped his arms back around Alfred's shoulders and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. "Make me scream, darling"

Alfred's eyes glinted mischievously and he wrapped the blanket more tightly around them both. "Yes, sir." He grinned, and with one arm under Arthur's bum and the other around his back, Alfred stood up on the bed.

Arthur's half-hard cock jumped. "Alfred!" He squawked and locked his legs tight around Alfred's waist.

Alfred pressed Arthur up against the wall their bed was tucked against, freed the arm that was behind Arthur's back and started tugging on his cock. Arthur's toes curled and his head lolled against the wall as Alfred pulled him back to hot and panting.

"Do you like that?" Alfred breathed.

Arthur took his face in his hands "I love it. Now fuck me, sweetheart, and do put your back into it."

Alfred laughed, released Arthur's hot cock and let it bob about his navel, caught Arthur firmly by the thighs and started up a hard, fast rhythm.

Arthur purred in Alfred's ear. His cock hit deep and delicious tremors of pleasure shook themselves from Arthur's flexing toes to his fingertips where they ran up and down Alfred's back. Arthur's cock was trapped between their bodies, rubbed slickly by Alfred's firm abdominal muscles, his balls bumped by Alfred's pubic bone.

Alfred mouthed at Arthur's neck and rocked up onto his toes with each thrust, the bedsprings squeaking under his feet.

Hitting that spot dead on, Alfred pushed Arthur harder against the wall as he wailed and tried to arch his back.

"Alfred!" Arthur groaned. "Please don't stop!"

"Yes." Alfred sighed into Arthur's neck "You're perfect."

Arthur felt the pressure build, the waves of pleasure cresting higher as Alfred bit and sucked at his neck. His eyes started to roll up as the head of Alfred's cock hit his prostate dead on, again and again. "Yes"

The pleasure licked along the soles of Arthur's feet, the back of his knees, through the muscles in his legs, where Alfred's hands gripped his thighs so tightly, in his stomach and his chest and his hands, emptying his head of everything but "Alfred!"

The tremors in Arthur's legs became spasms that shook his body with every hard thrust Alfred made and suddenly Arthur gasped, curled around Alfred and wailed as he came, and came, and came.

Alfred had been hard for so long and so close that Arthur's clenching muscles, shaking around his cock finally made him let go, his cock pulsing his come inside of Arthur.

They breathed, and shook, and endured the agony of blissful aftershocks, before Alfred's strength finally deserted him and he slumped back onto their bed. Falling sideways they groaned as their heads hit the pillows.

Alfred threw a hand over the side of the bed and searched blindly until his fingers met the soft cotton of one of their shirts. He pulled it up and used it to wipe the come and lube from their stomachs and between Arthur's thighs. Then he tossed it back overboard.

"Alf'd...Alfred...It's cold"

Alfred just groaned in response so Arthur drew on the last reserves of energy and sat up enough to drag the mass of duvets and blankets back over their bodies.

"I love you." Alfred yawned.

"Love you too." Arthur slurred into his shoulder.

When Arthur woke he could see by the pale light and the chill of the air that it was early morning.

He spent a few minutes fulfilling his customary routine, gazing at Alfred as he continued to sleep. He got up as quietly as he could, shivering in the morning air. He swiped one of Alfred's frumpiest sweaters from where it hung over the back of a chair and pulled it on over his naked body.

He took steps towards the bedroom door, but stopped, thinking.

He turned and padded softly to their wardrobe and opened the doors. Pushing coats and shirts aside Arthur took his steel-capped leather boots from the bottom of the wardrobe.

He zipped them up his to his thighs and clicked the heels together. Today was the day and he needed to feel badass.

Arthur quietly closed their bedroom door and marched over to his laptop where it sat innocently at his desk. He sat down, switched it on and brought up the fist page of his first finished novel.

The tiny black kitten mewled by his foot and Arthur leaned down to stroke her as she nudged her head against the leather of Arthur's boot.

Eventually he sat back up and stared at the blinking cursor and racked his brain to pinpoint exactly what he wanted to capture. How Alfred made him feel. Just how much he loved Alfred. How proud he was of him. How lucky he was to have Alfred. To know him. To be inspired by him.

There are some people out there who don't have Alfreds to help them and the majority of the time sees those people crushed into sad, spiteful shadows of the actual selves. It's hard to remember reasons to stay good, when no one seems to want to do good for you.

It's hard to realise that sometimes we have to be our own heroes, and become the person we needed for other people. Somehow take that negativity and transform it into positivity. Alfred reaching out to Arthur made the spark inside him grow brighter. It made him want to reach out to others.

Arthur loved Alfred and he wanted to see his words immortalised in print.

Arthur set his fingers to the keyboard and started to type. It was slow going and the pattern of writing, deleting, writing, editing took time and effort, but finally, finally the bones of his feelings pulled together into words and sentences. Arthur sat back and looked at his creation, allowing, almost for the first time, to feel pride bubble up inside himself.

He was one step closer to repaying Alfred. This was another topic often the subject of long hours in therapy, but this book was going to help him become Alfred's equal. He didn't feel that he owed Alfred anything, but rooted deep inside Arthur was the knowledge that if Alfred hadn't pulled him from that alleyway, if the teachers hadn't talked to him, none of this would have been possible, and this book was going to prove that he deserved the chances taken on him. Hopefully this, and many novels still to come, would mean that financially he could stand on his own two feet and that his work had paid off. Then he could look at Alfred eye to eye and know that he was his equal.

"Arthuuur"

He twisted around towards the bedroom door where Alfred stood, wrapped in a blanket, hair a mess, and eyes squinting blearily at him. "Come back t' bed." He mumbled.

Arthur grinned, stood up, unzipped the boots and threw them into a corner.

He held Alfred's face in his hands and they smiled at each other, kissed, then shut the door and went back to bed.

For a while the screen of Arthur's computer continued to glow, then it dimmed, and finally went dark.

Alfred,

To whom goes my unending rhapsodising.

You are my hedonist, my headrush of logic-defying hormones.

You are my paradoxical electric signal.

You are my anomaly in the human race.

You are my kismet, my tachycardia, my hero.

I love you.

A/N; Thank you all so, so much.

I wrote in my personal statement on my university application form that I had published a short novel online, because, crumbs, this is almost 60,000 words.

Anyway, the fact that I wrote this thing, and that people read it and commented on it really strengthened my application.

So now. I'm in university. And I'm studying Art and Creative Writing.

Guy's this story, and the fact that you guys read it and some of you are all the way on the other side of the world, really means so much to me, I cant even express it. Guys this story is dedicated to you because you made my application so strong, guys I didn't even have to go to an interview.

Guy's you where my Alfreds. Without you I don't think I would have made it to one of the most popular writing courses in england.

I've heard from some of the most amazing people who have commented on this and I'm so glad to have heard from them. Reviews, of course, are my ambrosia and I glow a little with every one I receive but some people who commented, like an anonymous reviewer who called themselves J'adore, and the person who commented about thinking about my story as they delivered babies really made writing this an amazing experience.

Thank you all again, jeez it's been three years, sometimes i look over what i wrote and cringe, I'm as old as Alfred now.

I love you guys, and thanks again. If you're thinking about going into writing I strongly recommend publishing online.

This ones for you.

(P.S. Oh my god guys help i'm Alfred I just made a huge stack of American pancakes for my flat and invited some guys from the flat opposite over, and this wasn't even the time I cooked pancakes in the same pan as bacon because mmmm bacon pancakes help me i'm a fictional male character)

(P.P.S. Does this mean I get an Arthur?)

BTW I found the most fitting song for this fic, it's spooky how applicable it is and I love it: Angel, by Sarah McLachlan