Teenage Wasteland [Alfred]

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[STYLE= float: left; border: 5px solid #645269; width: 183px; height: 382px; margin-top: 20px; margin-left: -50px; -webkit-border-top-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-topleft: 50; -webkit-border-bottom-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 50; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/gea.png);][/style][STYLE=font-family: impact; font-size: 22px; text-align: center; margin-center: 0px; color: #bd3131; margin-top: -10px; text-shadow: 2px 0px 2px #000000; text-transform: lowercase;]every night I burn[/style][STYLE=width: 266px; height: 352px; overflow: auto; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; background-color: #060606; color: # eefaed; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; border: 5px solid #645269; float:right; margin-top: -9px; margin-left: -90px;] The night was young… and so apparently was Arthur at this moment in time. This heady brand of insanity that was too good to pass up, even for a nostalgic nation that used to spend the better half of his days reminiscing things that once made him feel the vague touch of happiness. Specifically, days that glorified the worst in him. This—however—this was something that even Arthur couldn’t elude. Didn’t want to elude. Now his people were lovers of recklessness and the pleasures that only living in the present could bring. To be free of society’s mold and to be whoever the hell they wanted to be. It brought more satisfaction to simply feel, to feel nothing but thoughtless intoxication. It was a hell of a lot better than wanting things that could never again be his. Things had never once existed in the first place. His world was nothing but thrills, to laugh in the face of authority, to be painfully, truthfully rude for a change without society inflicted guilt. He could say what he wanted. Do what he wanted. Be who he wanted. All this so-called refinement of society did was turn him into a bloody civilised coward. His muddled thoughts barely conceived how ridiculous it was that everything had become so perverted by political decorum. More than anything, it was the music. Vocals were nasally and were often shouted instead of sung. There was a lack of shifts in pitch and volume. Complicated guitar solos were self-indulgent—wracked with highly distorted power chords or barre chords, creating its own characteristic ‘buzzsaw drone’. But that’s what made punk rock—it was frank, unconventional, and oftentimes confrontational. It was a cultural revolt, a clash with the black side of history, corruption, and sexual taboos. It was unlike anything Arthur had ever indulged in. In this moment, the throb of nightlife filled him, lingered in his pulse and breathed life into his veins—along with whatever the hell concoction he had just taken with his drink. Arthur’s hair was short and choppy and couldn’t remember what colour it currently was. It was as interchangeable as his whims. Red, perhaps? Or was it still green? Who the hell cared? His newfound love for leather and piercings was now a common one and it wasn’t difficult to see why. The way it stuck and slid against his skin while in the overcrowded, music drowning club was nothing less than proverbial sin. He looked like he had been plucked straight from the gutter of society and he gave even less care about what others thought of him. All he was aware of was that he was somewhere on the East Side of London in some dodgy establishment that he knew somewhere in the back of his stoned mind had a filthy reputation. Yes he would admit. But it handed out the best commodities. And what’s a night out without the occasional thrill? Not to mention, it was refreshing for once to have a warm body to wake up next to in the morning. To have others pass nameless pills—homemade concoctions that offered mind-clogging highs—to smoke freshly rolled sticks of God knows what, and to share every kind of heat and pleasure imaginable between strangers. Here in the dimly lit club, Arthur knew that it was time to find something fresh. Something that he hadn't yet tasted. He was easy to bore these days. He needed another nameless face. Yes, that sounded just about right. Arthur went back to his bottle, baked out of his mind, looking for a new body to tease, preferably something stronger and rougher than what he was used to. Leaning away from the grimy wall, he slid between the sweating, grinding bodies. His shoulder made contact with someone’s back -- and what a lovely back it was. A glint of something devious entered Arthur’s glazed eyes as he turned to make his move. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - setting: East London, June 1976 tags: Alfred notes: Heh. Let the madness begin. xD credit: PANDIE of BTN [/style]

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[atrb=style, background-color: #D0C6A4; border-top: 5px solid #75531E; border-bottom: 5px solid #75531E;][STYLE=border: 4px solid #75531E; height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 15px; margin-bottom: -33px; margin-top: 7px;][/style][STYLE=float: right; width: 277px; font-size: 50px; color: #75531E; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 123px; text-transform: lowercase; margin-top: -45px; letter-spacing: -3px;]GO ASK ALICE[/style][STYLE=background-color: #EFE9E0; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; margin-right: 15px; font-family: arial narrow; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -9px; margin-left: 123px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: #75531E;]WHEN SHE'S TEN FEET TALL[/style] [STYLE=margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 15px; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; text-align: justify; background-color: #EFE9E0; padding: 17px; color: #3C2E16; margin-top: 8px; opacity: 0.9; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; border-right: 1px dotted #9D6F25; border-left: 1px dotted #75531E;]Alfred was supposed to be in London on business, under his boss' orders. It wasn't that he'd decided to forgo his duties, really - He'd just decided to push them off. It wasn't like Alfred was going to be attending any meetings at nighttime. As a result, he'd decided to hit the town. His journey eventually ended at a dodgy club nestled on the East Side of London. It was here that he found his blissful escape. It was only temporary, and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that it would all come crashing down again in the morning (as it always did), but the more he took, the less he cared. He stopped caring what the pills were, what he was smoking, what he was drinking. His mind was beautifully numb, free from all the worries that normally plagued him. Yes, he worried. Far more than most would think. He still put on that smiling face in front of the other nations, but the world was taking a toll on him as of late. He had frequent nightmares ending in man-made desolation and destruction. He found himself involved in fruitless wars that caused more damage than good, yet were dragged out needlessly by a hero hoping to save the day from his foe, in its usual draping of red. Always draped in red. How Alfred had come to hate that color. Here, the worries were washed away. It didn't even matter that he was an outsider, speaking with a pronounced American accent rather than the British ones he was surrounded by. The counter-culture in England was different than his own, but yet they were similar enough that Alfred found he could easily blend in. Eventually, Alfred grew restless at his perch at the bar, especially as he watched others on the dance floor. The urge to join the crowd became too much. Even in his addled state, Alfred's habit toward extroversion took flight. He danced, and laughed, and enjoyed himself, partaking in even more forbidden substances. He enjoyed the close contact with others. On one occasion, he found himself dancing intimately close with an attractive blonde girl. They ground against each other, feeling as though the only things that existed (or the only things that mattered, at least), were each other and the steady beat of the music. Then the song ended, and the girl pulled away, handing him a piece of paper. "Call me." She stated with a wink before going off to join a few of her friends. Alfred's eyes drifted down to the paper in his hands. Written there was the name 'Sarah', along with the girl's phone number. Somewhere within Alfred's drug-numbed mind stirred an unpleasant feeling, and Alfred crunched up the paper and once, throwing it to the ground as if it burned him to touch it any longer. Sarah. Sarah. That name meant nothing but trouble. And it was written in red. Alfred cringed. Red. He could feel the filthy color all around him, threatening to seep into his pores. He stomped on the paper once, then again, and then again, until he was stomping almost frantically, hysterically. Evil, evil red. Go away. Alfred felt a pressure against his back, panic seizing him. His heart hammered as he turned around, vaguely recognizing the face of the man standing there. England. Arthur. His green hair was a stark contrast to the red. The longer Alfred stared at the hair, the more the red faded. Green was a nice color. Neutral, not evil. Alfred wanted more of it. He pulled Arthur in closer, holding him tightly, not wanting the green to go away. Leaning even closer, he was pleased to even say that he detected a slight hint of the scent of granny smith apples. Such a familiar, sweet scent, reminding him of home. The feeling of a warm body against his helped too. He was too far gone to care whose it was, just that it was there. WORDS! 000 TAGS! dey go right here. NOTES! whatever you want, bruh. [/style]

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[I...don't even know what I just typed. I just...don't. I'm sorry if none of this makes sense. I just...I don't even know. XDDDDD]

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[STYLE= float: left; border: 5px solid #645269; width: 183px; height: 382px; margin-top: 20px; margin-left: -50px; -webkit-border-top-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-topleft: 50; -webkit-border-bottom-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 50; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/gea.png);][/style][STYLE=font-family: impact; font-size: 22px; text-align: center; margin-center: 0px; color: #bd3131; margin-top: -10px; text-shadow: 2px 0px 2px #000000; text-transform: lowercase;]every night I burn[/style][STYLE=width: 266px; height: 352px; overflow: auto; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; background-color: #060606; color: # eefaed; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; border: 5px solid #645269; float:right; margin-top: -9px; margin-left: -90px;] Arthur had to maneuver between two others in the sea of moving people to stay close to the man that he had brushed up against and had so flippantly admired afterwards. Finally back where he was before, close enough to do something a bit more daring to get the other’s attention. His plan was interrupted when the man turned around. The older nation had enough state of mind to recongise the face staring back at him—Alfred? That can be—why would he of all people be here? If it wasn’t him, then it bloody well looked like him. Instead of saying something like he normally would have, green eyes remained a bit dazed, as if suddenly thrown into a dark room without knowing it. The faint confusion stirred. It amplified, like the buzz of the music swamping them and the current ringing in Arthur’s head, the longer that Alfred stared at him. He barely had enough mind to register that the man’s expression was a little off. Then again, who’s wasn’t here? Or maybe this was just some delusion created by whatever he had swallowed several minutes ago. His skin prickled and grew warm… and wasn’t the room getting a bit smaller, a little more crowded. Arthur’s breath picked up slightly when he felt strong arms pulling him close, the muscles in them tightening. His heart felt like it was in his ears when a familiar scent washed over him, calming his nerves. Something in the back of his mind missed this terribly… and a small, buried part of him ached. Missed what? With no more room left for thought, he closed the gap between them, burying his face into the musky scent, cooperating with Alfred’s body. It didn’t matter what happened. This was all probably just some fucked up illusion. He had had plenty of those before and sometimes all in the same night. It made no difference what this man looked like, Arthur was thinking with his body—his mind too frayed to reason. It certainly didn’t seem very real, almost otherworldly. Much like the colours, the music, and the blend of words, laughter, and noises dripping from the people around them, all blending together into a dangerous symphony of madness. And so, Arthur allowed the drunken, drug induced smile to twist his lips as he breathed the man in. His hands moving of their own accord, his fingers trailing up the man’s arms before slipping down his torso, tracing what he felt—ghostlike in some areas and with more teasing pressure in others. Even when inebriated, he knew where and how to touch to get a response. He could do this in his sodding sleep. He still had his one-track goal in mind from before and he sure as hell was going to accomplish it. Whatever he had smoked earlier, it made his skin stir with energy, like the slight pins and needles sensation from poor circulation. When he felt the man tighten his hold over him, as if worried that he might slip away, Arthur released a breathy chuckle. “Easy there. I’m not going anywhere,” his voice was low and seemed far away as the tip of his nose grazed against a peek of skin near the collar of Alfred’s shirt, briefly wondering what it would taste like, what it would feel like. He felt so warm. So inviting. Strong men tended to be pleasing enough to help smother other feelings better left in the dark. And with that, Arthur vaguely registered that he had bitten the bait. Peering up at Alfred, mischief gleaming brightly in his eyes, Arthur pressed himself just a bit more into the man’s form. ”Any plans for tonight?” he said, hot breath close to the man’s ear in order to be heard over the new music currently playing on stage. It’s heavy rhythm vibrating with his pulse. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - setting: East London, June 1976 tags: Alfred notes: >XD credit: PANDIE of BTN [/style]

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[atrb=style, background-color: #D0C6A4; border-top: 5px solid #75531E; border-bottom: 5px solid #75531E;][STYLE=border: 4px solid #75531E; height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 15px; margin-bottom: -33px; margin-top: 7px;][/style][STYLE=float: right; width: 277px; font-size: 50px; color: #75531E; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 123px; text-transform: lowercase; margin-top: -45px; letter-spacing: -3px;]GO ASK ALICE[/style][STYLE=background-color: #EFE9E0; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; margin-right: 15px; font-family: arial narrow; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -9px; margin-left: 123px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: #75531E;]WHEN SHE'S TEN FEET TALL[/style] [STYLE=margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 15px; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; text-align: justify; background-color: #EFE9E0; padding: 17px; color: #3C2E16; margin-top: 8px; opacity: 0.9; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; border-right: 1px dotted #9D6F25; border-left: 1px dotted #75531E;]Alfred was not in his right mind, anyone could tell just by looking in his eyes. The whites were slightly bloodshot, the irises hazy, his gaze slightly unfocused. His mind itself was in a fog, his senses disjointed. Certain sensations were muffled, while others stood out far more than they usually would. Touch and sight were most affected. As Alfred gazed down at the hair on Arthur's head, he realized that he could see every individual strand of hair. It was mesmerizing. He might have vaguely recognized the man before him, but his mind was not clear enough to differentiate different relationships. His mind could connect the name to the face, as well as process a signal that screamed 'you know this guy', but he found himself not caring exactly how. Alfred was ultra-aware of Arthur's wandering hands. As Arthur traced his torso, Alfred close his eyes, letting the sensations wash over him. In a sober state, such touches would feel nice, but in Alfred's current state? It felt like heaven, each touch not only setting his skin on fire and leaving him craving more, but lights exploding into his vision like miniature fireworks. Between the liquor and the other intoxicants coursing through his veins, Alfred was helpless to stop himself. Not that he wanted to - The vestiges of higher thought left in his mind had fallen victim as well, and he consciously wanted this. He needed this. Screw what he thought in the morning when he sobered up, he was living for the here and now. A smile came across Alfred's face as the man in his arms assured him that he was not going anywhere. This was good. The man in his arms had not only taken the red away, but he was making Alfred feel good. What more could he ask for? Certainly not much in this state. "Good." Alfred's chest rumbled. He was mildly surprised at just how far away his own voice sounded. Then again, everything was distorted. He dared to glance over Arthur's shoulder, and found that he could hardly make sense of the colorful blurs behind him. He felt the bass rumble, seemingly in tune with his own pulse. Wasn't it funny how the music could do that? Alfred caught another glimpse of his face, again too far gone to register just what said face meant to him, but able to make out through the fog of his mind that this man's eyes were green. Green again. Red meant bad things. Red meant stop. Green meant go. Everything about this man was green. Not that he would think anything like that sober, but being that he wasn't, that was a moot point. If Alfred had any restraint left before he felt Arthur's breath against his ear (hint: he didn't), it disappeared that very instance. Alfred pulled the man in closer to him. The strangest things slipped through the fog - The beacon telling him not to use all of his strength being one of them. This was for the best, as Alfred had yet to meet anyone other than Ivan who stood a chance of being able to handle his full strength. Alfred liked this close proximity, the feeling of another person's body against his. It didn't matter the gender, just so long as it was there. "Why, is that an invitation?" WORDS! 574 TAGS! Arthur NOTES! This came out shorter than I would have liked...and way later. [/style]

[STYLE=width: 400px; text-align: center; font-size: 9px; color: #75531E; letter-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -4px;]made by kiwii at btn![/style]

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[STYLE= float: left; border: 5px solid #645269; width: 183px; height: 382px; margin-top: 20px; margin-left: -50px; -webkit-border-top-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-topleft: 50; -webkit-border-bottom-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 50; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/gea.png);][/style][STYLE=font-family: impact; font-size: 22px; text-align: center; margin-center: 0px; color: #bd3131; margin-top: -10px; text-shadow: 2px 0px 2px #000000; text-transform: lowercase;]every night I burn[/style][STYLE=width: 266px; height: 352px; overflow: auto; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; background-color: #060606; color: # eefaed; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; border: 5px solid #645269; float:right; margin-top: -9px; margin-left: -90px;] Arthur’s lips curved into that vulpine smile of his as he felt the man accepting his touches, he fancied the idea of the other leaning into him, though that very well could have been the suddenly odd vertigo of the room. His stomach twisted slightly at the arbitrary thought of falling and never finding ground. He tried his best to ignore the strange falling feeling and more on the hammering sounds and the dizzying, achingly good sensations surrounding them… The adrenaline in his blood surged when he saw the man close his eyes. Fuck thinking and reason. His pulse rose excitedly, knowing that he wanted to be the cause of more of those expressions. He always got a high (usually unrelated to the previously consumed liquor and drugs) simply from drawing pleasant sounds and faces from others. He knew how to make others forget about everything else around them—how to make them feel nothing but the warmth of touch and blissful nothingness. Arthur’s breath felt shortened when the larger man pulled him closer. They had already been close, and it had been Alfred that had been closing most of the distance. Arthur only gladly acquiesced, moving in to soak up more of the warmth radiating from the man. Why was he so warm? Or was it Arthur that was devoid of any? In any case, it was something that he craved. There was something mutual about the neediness in the air between them. Or maybe that was just their wrecked hormone levels—barely able to think through the fog—only feeling and wanting what was before them. And oh, did he want. Arthur leaned in closer around the same time that Alfred did; their bodies pressed together, trapping in the heat between them. It was intoxicating—feeling the amplified texture of his clothing against his. One of Arthur’s hands pressed lightly between Alfred’s shoulder blades, his fingers tracing down the indent. His other hand went a bit lower, toying with the man’s belt from behind, his fingers tracing along the edge. His thumb dipped below very slightly, skimming across the line of skin. Just as quickly, though, he pulled his hands back up to safe territory with a smirk. Hearing the question, he didn’t reply right away. Arthur’s hands went higher, one on his shoulder, the other tightening against his back in an odd sort of embrace as he pulled Alfred with him until Arthur felt his shoulder blades make hard contact with the wall where there was just a bit more shadow. For some reason, a nagging part of his mind that he couldn’t quite reach felt more comfortable in it. Where anonymity intensified and all that was left to do was to feel. And with that, his fingers reached through the man’s hair, gently guiding his face down where he could reach him. Arthur’s mouth found his. It was warm and dry—chaste compared to the way Arthur usually kissed, but there was nothing innocent about it. His mouth pressed and slide against his hard, tugging a little on the man’s lip. Pulling back just enough to speak, he smiled that sharp smile once more. ”It is if you can handle me.” A hint of a challenge ignited through his gaze, mingling with the haze and exhilaration of the intoxicants. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - setting: East London, June 1976 tags: Alfred notes: No worries. I had a little trouble matching yours. It's a good length. (: credit: PANDIE of BTN [/style]

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[atrb=style, background-color: #D0C6A4; border-top: 5px solid #75531E; border-bottom: 5px solid #75531E;][STYLE=border: 4px solid #75531E; height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 15px; margin-bottom: -33px; margin-top: 7px;][/style][STYLE=float: right; width: 277px; font-size: 50px; color: #75531E; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 123px; text-transform: lowercase; margin-top: -45px; letter-spacing: -3px;]GO ASK ALICE[/style][STYLE=background-color: #EFE9E0; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; margin-right: 15px; font-family: arial narrow; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -9px; margin-left: 123px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: #75531E;]WHEN SHE'S TEN FEET TALL[/style] [STYLE=margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 15px; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; text-align: justify; background-color: #EFE9E0; padding: 17px; color: #3C2E16; margin-top: 8px; opacity: 0.9; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; border-right: 1px dotted #9D6F25; border-left: 1px dotted #75531E;]Alfred let the sensations wash over him, content with letting Arthur take the reigns for the time being. The other man very clearly knew what he was doing, and as long as it felt good, Alfred was not one to complain. The larger nation, too, basked in the warmth provided by the other man, as well as the light pressures of their bodies touching each other. He could feel his heart rate quicken, unable to discern whether the steady beat booming in his ears was from the music or his own pulse. As time passed, though, Alfred found that he was not content just to let himself be pleased by this other man. He was used to being in control, and though he was willing to let up on this at times, he needed to make certain that the other man knew that he was not one to be pushed around lightly. Alfred's hands went on an exploration of their own. One hand went to Arthur's mesmerizing hair, but the other strayed down to the other man's hip. While the other did not respond to his question verbally, he received just the sort of response he was looking for. He allowed himself to be led to the shadows, knowing almost instinctively that pleasure awaited him here. Sure enough, their lips met, and a fire ignited within Alfred that filled him from head to toe. He was just about to respond in the positive when Arthur pulled away. There was an almost childish pout on his face, but a hungry sort of glint in his eyes. He knew what he wanted, and he wondered why it was pulling away. It took him a moment to realize that the man was not only responding to his prior question, but...was that a challenge? The corners of Alfred's mouth turned up into a smirk. Oh yes, that was definitely a challenge. He hoped this man would live up to his word, because Alfred had every intent to turn up the heat now. Rather than pull back to speak, Alfred leaned in closer, allowing his own warm breath to ghost over Arthur's ear before speaking in a light whisper. "The question is, do you think you can handle me?" At this, he nibbled and licked lightly at the other man's ear for several seconds, teasing him. He traced his way down to the man's neck, making the same motions with his mouth, before turning his attention back to the man's face. There, Alfred placed his lips back on Arthur's, savoring this sweet sensation for a moment or so. After, his tongue began to lap hungrily at Arthur's lips, begging for entrance into the cavern just behind them. WORDS! 465 TAGS! Arthur NOTES! -Pokes post- Stop shrinking. D: [/style]

[STYLE=width: 400px; text-align: center; font-size: 9px; color: #75531E; letter-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -4px;]made by kiwii at btn![/style]

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[STYLE= float: left; border: 5px solid #645269; width: 183px; height: 382px; margin-top: 20px; margin-left: -50px; -webkit-border-top-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-topleft: 50; -webkit-border-bottom-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 50; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/gea.png);][/style][STYLE=font-family: impact; font-size: 22px; text-align: center; margin-center: 0px; color: #bd3131; margin-top: -10px; text-shadow: 2px 0px 2px #000000; text-transform: lowercase;]every night I burn[/style][STYLE=width: 266px; height: 352px; overflow: auto; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; background-color: #060606; color: # eefaed; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; border: 5px solid #645269; float:right; margin-top: -9px; margin-left: -90px;] The corners of Arthur’s mouth curved when he finally felt the man taking some initiation. His body tensed and warmed when he felt the other’s hands stirring—touching him. He moved into them, encouraging without words. He almost wanted to laugh. God—why was he so amused? Everything he was craving tonight was at hand, moving and responding ever so nicely. He wanted to do so many things, but as much of a mess his brain was in at the moment, he couldn’t rationally put together where to start. Again, Arthur felt a small flash of amusement when he saw the near childish pout on the man’s face. What thrilled him even more was the heated stare. It was exactly the kind of look that he was waiting for, one that sealed their night. The island nation noticed the realisation come over Alfred at his proposition. The pit of his stomach curled with heat and anticipation at Alfred’s smirk. He knew that was a ‘yes’ before anything was confirmed. And it was positively exhilarating. He loved having his forwardness met with equal boldness. When the man leaned closer, Arthur followed suit, pressing into him. Light shivers ghosted down his spine when he heard the man’s response. Oh, yes. This was going to be a good one. Having only had his bed filled with disappointment or cold nothingness made Arthur want this more than he had wanted anything for months. Arthur could only answer with a soft, satisfied exhale when the man worked his mouth against his ear. The lightness of it frustrated him, but he didn’t say anything. His hand pressed harder against Alfred’s back. His eyelids grew just a bit heavy, allowing the sensations to dance across his body. When the warm, wet mouth moved to his neck—a small weakness of his—breath became short for a moment as his fingertips pressed even harder into Alfred. And then the man was back at his mouth, placing a lingering kiss. There was something almost sweet about it, as weird as that seemed for this whirling, dazed atmosphere. It made Arthur pause—something dull throbbed in his chest as he pressed back against it, eager for this sort of touch despite his usual appetite for harsher handling. Arthur almost made another noise at the feeling of the smooth, wet tongue against his lips. Each movement caused heat to bloom low, trailing down his body. Finally, he relented, opening his mouth. Arthur’s fingers splayed out, dancing up to the flesh until he touched the side of Alfred’s face to hold him in place. Everything was wet and warm as his skilled mouth and tongue slide roughly against his. Everything about the open mouthed kiss was hard and frantic on his end. The colours and movements around them melted into background noise—only aware of his pounding pulse and the fire slowly coming to life deep within. When he had the chance, Arthur dipped his tongue past Alfred’s to taste whatever lingered—mostly the heaviness of liquor. Arthur relaxed into it, letting it absorb him. A low sound of pleasure escaped from his throat. He retreated for a short breath, his mouth sticky with saliva, his lips tingling, and his tongue stained by the flavour. He looked briefly up at Alfred, his skin a little flushed, desire written across his gaze, before closing the distance once more, coating the man’s mouth with his. Hard. Hands became more daring as one returned once more with the back of the other man’s shirt before slipping beneath, caressing the skin there. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - setting: East London, June 1976 tags: Alfred notes: Oh my. Sorry if my writing is confusing. It felt a little off to me. credit: PANDIE of BTN [/style]

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[atrb=style, background-color: #D0C6A4; border-top: 5px solid #75531E; border-bottom: 5px solid #75531E;][STYLE=border: 4px solid #75531E; height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 15px; margin-bottom: -33px; margin-top: 7px;][/style][STYLE=float: right; width: 277px; font-size: 50px; color: #75531E; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 123px; text-transform: lowercase; margin-top: -45px; letter-spacing: -3px;]GO ASK ALICE[/style][STYLE=background-color: #EFE9E0; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; margin-right: 15px; font-family: arial narrow; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -9px; margin-left: 123px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: #75531E;]WHEN SHE'S TEN FEET TALL[/style] [STYLE=margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 15px; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; text-align: justify; background-color: #EFE9E0; padding: 17px; color: #3C2E16; margin-top: 8px; opacity: 0.9; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; border-right: 1px dotted #9D6F25; border-left: 1px dotted #75531E;]There was very little thought on Alfred's part on what he was doing. His mind was not utterly void of thought, but most of his thoughts were directed toward how to best make the man before him squirm, to cry out in pleasure. And, of course, he was seeking out his own pleasure. The best part was, no one around them seemed to care. They were too caught up in their own business, or viewed it as a typical scene in the back of a nightclub and left them be. It was true that Alfred and Arthur weren't the only ones present who'd holed away in a dark corner of the nightclub, determined to kick off a night of pleasure. Alfred noted the change in pressure in Arthur's fingertips, and knew he'd found a weakness. A satisfied smirk came across his face as he licked and sucked at the offending area more. It was sure to leave a mark by the next morning. He pulled away slowly. "You like that, don't you?" He whispered, before moving in to kiss Arthur on his lips. When Arthur opened his mouth to Alfred, the younger nation seized immediate advantage of the opportunity. He failed to note just how frantically the other man was moving, only grateful that he was receiving just as much enthusiasm as he felt that he was giving. He could swear that every nip, every thrust was accompanied by music to his ears - Or perhaps that was still the beat that moved in tune to his heartbeat. Whatever it was, it was the perfect backdrop to this occasion. Lights danced in front of his eyes, which might have otherwise been distracting, but these blended perfectly with the beautiful melody that he and this man were creating with their intimate actions. Franklin Delano he'd regret this when he sobered up... His second hand trailed downward as he realized that he had relatively little to do with it. It didn't seem right, that with other areas of his body so occupied, his arms should remain stationary. While one of Alfred's hands did remain planted on the other man's hip, the other ventured below the waistline of Arthur's pants, as well as his undergarments. There, his hand brushed against the bare skin hidden beneath, in short, teasing motions. He was content, though not wholly satisfied. He, too, was beginning to feel a heat blossoming within him, and the more it blossomed, the less time he wanted to waste. He leaned his body against Arthur's as his tongue continued to explore every inch of Arthur's mouth, but he wanted more, and he wanted the other to know it. WORDS! 458 TAGS! Arthur NOTES! Well THAT didn't take forever and a day to get up. Not at ALL. -Shifty eyes- [/style]

[STYLE=width: 400px; text-align: center; font-size: 9px; color: #75531E; letter-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -4px;]made by kiwii at btn![/style]

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[STYLE= float: left; border: 5px solid #645269; width: 183px; height: 382px; margin-top: 20px; margin-left: -50px; -webkit-border-top-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-topleft: 50; -webkit-border-bottom-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 50; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/gea.png);][/style][STYLE=font-family: impact; font-size: 22px; text-align: center; margin-center: 0px; color: #bd3131; margin-top: -10px; text-shadow: 2px 0px 2px #000000; text-transform: lowercase;]every night I burn[/style][STYLE=width: 266px; height: 352px; overflow: auto; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; background-color: #060606; color: # eefaed; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; border: 5px solid #645269; float:right; margin-top: -9px; margin-left: -90px;] Though this most definitely wasn’t always the case with Arthur, these situations weren’t entirely give-or-take, for he was usually giving and taking at the same time. The lines blurred between motives and thoughts until there was only feeling between them. That’s how he usually wanted these nights to go. Apparently this man was of a similar line of thought. What was so great about nightclubs (especially in said decade) was that nobody around gave a flying fuck what anyone else was doing. If it felt good and didn’t hurt anyone else, then there were no issues. Even as Arthur pressed himself more against the wall, pulling Alfred closer, he unintentionally rubbed shoulders with another duo, furiously snogging, barely taking in any breath. Arthur’s blank, slightly zoned out expression was on the others for a moment until Alfred did something to his neck that made his toes curl. Heat shot through him and his face looked as if it were in mild agony—God, it felt so good. His annoying little weakness. He usually timed his interchangeable partners on how long it took for them to find it, but he had completely forgotten to do that this time around. He probably had a few too many beforehand… a little more than usual. Instead, he focused on the sensation of Alfred’s mouth moving and sucking at the sensitive skin of his neck. He brushed his nose against Alfred’s hair, panting. Deep sounds of pleasure left his throat. The blood was rising to his cheeks among other areas when the whisper came. He met Alfred in the middle when his mouth moved closer. To Arthur it eventually felt more like the clash of mouths, tongue, and saliva than a proper kiss, but that was more than fine with him. He loved the marks. He loved the evidence that these liaisons left behind. Goosebumps rose on his flesh when he felt the man’s hand slip beneath his trousers. The little twat was teasing him. Arthur pressed forward a bit harder against the man’s hand, but he had a feeling that the teasing was going to endure for a bit longer. His fingers trailed up beneath Alfred’s shirt, feeling how warm the skin was, the slight lining of muscle as he explored further. He immediately wanted to feel the man’s skin against his. One hand slid around Alfred’s back before dropping to his backside, having absolutely no shame in feeling him up there. His thumb slide down the slight curve as fingers pressed harder against him. While Arthur was enjoying the attention paid to his mouth, having the man practically feeding from it, he pulled back, his tongue attempting to take some semblance of control to push back a bit more smoothly than just breaking the kiss. He took hold of the tip of Alfred’s tongue and sucked on it softly as he retreated. Arthur’s lips were wet with Alfred’s saliva. They parted slightly to gather a bit of air before he whispered. ”Do you have a room nearby?” Foreigners usually equaled a hotel room somewhere in the area. Arthur very rarely ever brought back strangers to his place. It was too much of a hassle in the morning… not to mention that it was downright stupid to bring one-night-stands into his home. Yet, he won’t think twice when falling into bed with them… yeah. If not a hotel room, then the backseat of a car would do… or even somewhere semi-public (though, even stoned, he rather wouldn’t. Not if he wanted a proper shag.) He did that once… and wasn’t too keen on repeating that experience. A little impatient while waiting for his reply, Arthur began to place small, slightly open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, briefly over the cheek, and down to his neck, sucking devoutly before teasing at a particular spot gently with the smooth side of his teeth. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - setting: East London, June 1976 tags: Alfred notes: I didn't notice anything if you didn't... o-o credit: PANDIE of BTN [/style]

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[atrb=style, background-color: #D0C6A4; border-top: 5px solid #75531E; border-bottom: 5px solid #75531E;][STYLE=border: 4px solid #75531E; height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 15px; margin-bottom: -33px; margin-top: 7px;][/style][STYLE=float: right; width: 277px; font-size: 50px; color: #75531E; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 123px; text-transform: lowercase; margin-top: -45px; letter-spacing: -3px;]GO ASK ALICE[/style][STYLE=background-color: #EFE9E0; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; margin-right: 15px; font-family: arial narrow; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -9px; margin-left: 123px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: #75531E;]WHEN SHE'S TEN FEET TALL[/style] [STYLE=margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 15px; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; text-align: justify; background-color: #EFE9E0; padding: 17px; color: #3C2E16; margin-top: 8px; opacity: 0.9; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; border-right: 1px dotted #9D6F25; border-left: 1px dotted #75531E;]Alfred scarcely noticed the couple nearby, far more focused on his own preoccupations. Noting the man's reaction to his nibbles, Alfred worked at the skin on Arthur's neck, only pulling away when he was certain that he left a mark. He smiled a little as he pulled away, clearly fond of his handiwork. Their tongues clashed once more as wandering hands traveled downward. Alfred continued the ghosting touches, and was pleasant surprised to feel hands exploring his torso. Those hands, too, found their way downward and as Arthur did some teasing of his own, Alfred pushed himself against Arthur, eager for the contact. A light moan escaped from deep in his throat. He was once again disappointed when Arthur pulled away, determined to close the gap once more until Arthur's voice reached him through the fog. "Huh?" It took a few more seconds for Alfred to sift through the haze and understand what Arthur was asking him. Room nearby. The rooms were wiretapped. That was going to get his boss in big trouble, he told him so, but did he listen? No. Alfred shook his head. No, no, that was back home. Arthur was asking if he had a room nearby. Oh! His hotel room! "Yeah, I got a room a few blocks away from here. Why? You wanna come?" Alfred smirked, grabbing Arthur by the hand and tugging him toward the exit. Soon, they were out on the street. Probably not a good thing, but hopefully Gerry and Jimmy wouldn't have to do too much damage control. Alfred walked along with Arthur's hand in his, noting just how different the streets of London looked between the time just before he entered the club and now. The lights seemed almost alive, some staying where they were supposed to be but others traveling elsewhere, leaving little trails behind them. Alfred kept his eyes skyward, his mouth hanging open slightly as he allowed the view to captivate him. "I'm afraid of mushrooms," He spoke up suddenly, unfocused eyes still pointed skyward. "The sky mushrooms." Alfred attempted to clarify, in a way that likely didn't clear things up at all. Alfred had a very clear mental picture of a nuclear explosion in his mind, but lacked the capability in his current mental state to explain. His gaze shot back down to Arthur, before looking just past him at what appeared to be a tattoo parlor. "Look at all the designs! We should get tattoos," Of course, what seemed like a good idea then would likely turn out to be a terrible idea later on, but Alfred could care less at that point in time. All he knew was that some of those designs were really neat. Plus his birthday was coming up. Having made up his mind (what little of it was working properly at this point in time), Alfred headed into the parlor at once. He did not look to see if Arthur was following, though he hoped the other was. The night wouldn't be as much fun without someone to share it with! The woman on duty at the parlor appeared as though she was not even bothered by Alfred's clear mental state. Then again, she was probably fairly used to people in similar states stopping by. So long as it gave her business. "What can I get you blokes today?" WORDS! 565 TAGS! Arthur NOTES! I'm still not sure whether it was a good idea or a bad idea to type this up late at night. XD Anyway, for reference in case you need it, the bit about wiretapping and his boss getting into trouble is a reference to Watergate, and 'Gerry' and 'Jimmy' are Gerald Ford and James Callaghan, Alfred's president and Arthur's prime minister at the time. XD [/style]

[STYLE=width: 400px; text-align: center; font-size: 9px; color: #75531E; letter-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -4px;]made by kiwii at btn![/style]

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[STYLE= float: left; border: 5px solid #645269; width: 183px; height: 382px; margin-top: 20px; margin-left: -50px; -webkit-border-top-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-topleft: 50; -webkit-border-bottom-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 50; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/gea.png);][/style][STYLE=font-family: impact; font-size: 22px; text-align: center; margin-center: 0px; color: #bd3131; margin-top: -10px; text-shadow: 2px 0px 2px #000000; text-transform: lowercase;]every night I burn[/style][STYLE=width: 266px; height: 352px; overflow: auto; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; background-color: #060606; color: # eefaed; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; border: 5px solid #645269; float:right; margin-top: -9px; margin-left: -90px;] Heat simmered low in his body when he heard the light noises Alfred was making and felt the touches against his burning skin. Everything was amplified, far too difficult not getting excited over the smallest things. He felt wired—his pulse pounding in his ears and the shivers were too strong. Arthur didn’t notice that Alfred took longer to respond to his question than usual. He was also staring at him with glazed eyes, still seeped in a pleasant fog. The warmth between them mingled with the humid warmth of bodies packed in the small space. Arthur was jostled slightly by others moving about, probably in the same, if not worse, state of mind. He didn’t seem to care. He slid close to Alfred, not keen on losing him in the crowd. Then Alfred said something—what, Arthur didn’t catch—before taking his hand and pulling him toward the exit. The cool air was nice… well cooler than the stifling club. Arthur was also distracted by the smallest things. He was watching how the different textures of the buildings seemed clearer in detail than others. It was a myriad of sharp and smooth contrasts. A slick giddiness rose in Arthur at this and he snorted fits of soft laughter, a wide smile breaking his usually somber expression. He stumbled into something warm and his cheek felt the threadbare of Alfred’s shirt and he pressed his chest tightly against the warmth of his back, liking the comfortable familiarity. Arms came around Alfred loosely from behind while still clasping the man’s fingers, nuzzling his cheek and the tip of his nose between Alfred’s shoulder blades. The expression was innocent, almost childlike as Arthur watched the cityscape lights in the same manner as Alfred. He barely noticed that Alfred began to speak again. The blond loosened his arms from around his frame and slid to the side, brushing against his arm. Arthur stared with slightly squinted eyes at Alfred and followed his gaze up toward the sky, looking dumbly upward for the longest moment. Sky… mushrooms… yeah... The blond dropped his gaze back down toward the pavement just as he felt a waft of movement from Alfred. Arthur muttered something about a mushroom cult in Scotland. Then his attention was forced toward an array of designs that would immediately capture anyone's hazed interest. The words coming out of Alfred's mouth sounded like utter brilliance and Arthur found himself agreeing all too quickly to the idea. Alfred’s hand slipped away from Arthur’s as he headed forward. The smaller blond was nonsensically saddened by the loss of warmth and was quick to catch up, his beat up pair of Doc Martins scuffing slightly against the pavement with the lack of coordination. He was distracted by the wall of designs, causing him to bump lightly into Alfred once more as he meandered through the door. Arthur’s stare was immediately caught by a design that distantly resembled something that made his throat tighten. As his mind was currently only single-tracked, the startling sentimentality flooded his faded mind. ”I know what I want.” His fingers traced the intricate weaving lines of a design similar to what was imprinted in his thoughts. ”A tree.” He mumbled with finality. The woman raised her brow just slightly. Arthur continued to mumble, attempting to focus on his words. ”—roots deep in the earth... reaching to the heavens... touching everything and all things between—“ The woman paused for a moment, probably used to patiently deciphering what the hell these customers of hers were trying to say. She grabbed at a thick binder beneath the desk, flipping through the designs. “Tell me when you see it,” she said flatly, flipping through a smaller section based on what he was describing. ”Mm right here...” Arthur stopped the page flipping on the collage of Celtic body art, splayed with intricate knotwork normally representing eternity and the interconnectedness of all things… though Arthur’s mind was far from the meaning at the moment. All that was tangible to him in the haze were the old memories and feelings connected to what those lines meant to him. The design was a bit more abstract and circular than most renditions of the Celtic Tree of Life... but it worked for him. The woman was quick to gather the details that Arthur randomly spouted off--not too large, don't forget to make it circular, but never perfect. “All right you two…” she sighed, motioning for the both of them to follow her to her station. After hearing her instruction, Arthur sat where he was supposed to sit. “And where will this be?” She asked while working on the quick sketch. An amused smile briefly twisted Arthur’s lips and with a smug glance at Alfred, he undid the front of his trousers. Still keeping his undergarments mostly intact, he slipped the trousers halfway down his bum before turning slightly toward the tattoo artist. Hitching the shirt up, he lowered the last layer of cloth a bit in the front as well, exposing the hipbone and lower abdomen. He traced a vague area to his lower, frontal side, low and small enough to be easily hidden. A canvas of pale skin ready to be marred. Arthur was quick to approve of the sketch when it was revealed to him (not that his judgment skills were up to par at the moment...) and the she began to set out her equipment. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - setting: East London, June 1976 tags: Alfred notes: Loved the references... xD (And the mushroom cult is real... silly Brits.) credit: PANDIE of BTN [/style]

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[atrb=style, background-color: #D0C6A4; border-top: 5px solid #75531E; border-bottom: 5px solid #75531E;][STYLE=border: 4px solid #75531E; height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 15px; margin-bottom: -33px; margin-top: 7px;][/style][STYLE=float: right; width: 277px; font-size: 50px; color: #75531E; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 123px; text-transform: lowercase; margin-top: -45px; letter-spacing: -3px;]GO ASK ALICE[/style][STYLE=background-color: #EFE9E0; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; margin-right: 15px; font-family: arial narrow; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: -9px; margin-left: 123px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: #75531E;]WHEN SHE'S TEN FEET TALL[/style] [STYLE=margin-right: 15px; margin-left: 15px; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; text-align: justify; background-color: #EFE9E0; padding: 17px; color: #3C2E16; margin-top: 8px; opacity: 0.9; border-top: 4px solid #75531E; border-right: 1px dotted #9D6F25; border-left: 1px dotted #75531E;]As Arthur began to converse with the tattoo artist, Al's attention was still on the many sample designs focused on the wall. Some struck a cord with him, while others just looked amazing. It was hard to even pull away to request one! Upon hearing Arthur describe the tattoo that he wanted, Alfred's mouth hung open slightly. While the artist herself seemed confused, Alfred hung on to every word. "That...that was beautiful, man." Alfred started to clap, a few wayward tears tumbling out of his eyes. The tattoo artist, to her credit, bit back the laughs that were threatening to escape at this ridiculous display. Leave it to Alfred to overdo it even in his condition. When Arthur began to undo his pants, Alfred attention strayed downward at once. He continued to stare, until he was interrupted by another voice. He was temporarily annoyed at the interruption, but then confusion crossed his features as he realized another tattoo artist was speaking to him. "What about you? What are you looking to get, Yank?" At this, a sudden grin came across Alfred's face. "Yankee Doodle went to town a'ridin on a pony! Stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni! Yankee Doodle keep it up! Yankee Doodle Dandy! Mind the music and the step and with the girls be handy!" The artist just blinked a few times, easily discerning that this man was clearly in an altered state of mind. Therefore, the man gently tried to lead Alfred back to the subject at hand - The one that would earn he and his sister some extra cash. "That was stunning, absolutely stunning! If you wouldn't mind showing me which design you wanted, I could get you settled down and started right away!" The task worked, and Alfred remembered why he was over by the wall in the first place! "Uh..." He muttered, his mind in a fog, "What would, uh, you suggest?" The man did not point out any specific designs, but did offer his advice. "Some go with designs because they look good, others 'cause the design means something to them." The way Alfred continued to stare at the wall gave the artist the impression that Alfred had not heard a word he said. Therefore, he decided to repeat himself. "Some go with..." "The dove and the nuke." Alfred's sudden outburst caught the tattoo artist off guard. "What?" "The dove, but holding the nuke. It's like me. A dove who thinks he's making peace but leaving death and destruction in its wake. My poor Miss Saigon, I chased you away. Right into the arms of the Man in Red." The artist stared, clearly not able to make heads or tails of what Alfred meant, but able to discern that the design meant something to Alfred...somehow. So he set to work, showing Alfred the design he'd thrown together when he was done. Alfred nodded his approval. When the man asked where he wanted it, he proceeded to remove his shirt, purposely looking over to see if the familiar man he met at the club was looking (damn this haze, it felt so nice but he felt like he was ignoring something important...). The artist, on the other hand, gasped at Alfred's torso. Specifically at the scar jutting across the middle of his abdomen. The burn scar over the left side of his chest and a few other scars caught his attention as well, but none like the large scar. Alfred didn't notice. Instead, he pointed to the opposite side of the chest as his scar. "Right here." He indicated with a point of his finger. WORDS! 628 TAGS! Arthur NOTES! I typed this with one hand while feeling iffy. I feel accomplished. XD [/style]

[STYLE=width: 400px; text-align: center; font-size: 9px; color: #75531E; letter-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: -4px;]made by kiwii at btn![/style]

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[STYLE= float: left; border: 5px solid #645269; width: 183px; height: 382px; margin-top: 20px; margin-left: -50px; -webkit-border-top-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-topleft: 50; -webkit-border-bottom-left-radius: 50 ;-moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 50; background-image: url(http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n222/amoline/gea.png);][/style][STYLE=font-family: impact; font-size: 22px; text-align: center; margin-center: 0px; color: #bd3131; margin-top: -10px; text-shadow: 2px 0px 2px #000000; text-transform: lowercase;]every night I burn[/style][STYLE=width: 266px; height: 352px; overflow: auto; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; background-color: #060606; color: # eefaed; padding: 15px; text-align: justify; border: 5px solid #645269; float:right; margin-top: -9px; margin-left: -90px;] Arthur peered back at Alfred when he heard his response. The Brit's expression was a weird mixture of confusion and blushing discomfiture. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react, so he didn’t. Just continued staring longingly at the design that he was now hell bent on getting... It’s funny how fixations are easily formed whenever simultaneously plastered and high. His teeth scraped hard against his lower lip without actually breaking the skin to silence his laughter when he noticed that he had Alfred’s attention as he inched his trousers lower... Oh, this was so easy. Tonight was going to be one hell of a night. (And one hell of a fantastically awkward morning…) Arthur’s one-track mind was already formulating a rather extravagant tease whenever they made it to the bedroom... The moment the needle made contact with his skin was unexpected as Arthur was distractedly listening to Alfred mock sing to the other tattoo artist. He felt a prickle of deeply buried irritation and familiarity beneath the haze, because he was surely missing something important here. But he didn’t care, only chuckling breathily into the side of the chair. The woman sighed above him, telling him to 'please stop shaking', as she marked the design over his skin. Arthur stared at it, utterly fascinated by the dark lines, marking where she was going to begin her work. The scratching burn caught him by surprise and he finally stopped the nonsensical laughing, staring dazedly at the blank wall instead. The pain felt nice in a way, burning and tearing over the few strangling ends of scars that had once scorched over his abdomen and hipbone. Not a pleasant recollection… and Arthur shivered upon remembering exactly how he’d gotten it. Fire, death, and decay... The needle made it hurt all the more, flaring to life that particular past moment of agony. He grit his teeth, briefly grinding them, until she had passed over that patch of once damaged skin. Arthur was rarely one to ever let anyone touch his scars. The uglier, deeper ones in particular. Even whenever he took a lover into his bed… or in the alleyways these days…, he always directed wandering hands away from particular parts of his body that held the most damage. Ugly. Defiled. When the woman instructed Arthur to lie on his side, so that she could continue her work at a better angle, he turned so that he was able to get a decent view of Alfred’s side of the room. He noticed the other nodding his approval at a design that the male tattoo artist had sketched before removing his shirt. Arthur's gaze was trapped, imagining all sorts of lewd things that he could do with that. To hell with shame. He had none right now (more specifically, he hadn't had any for the past decade...) Noticing Alfred peering over towards him, Arthur lifted his eyes, giving him a lust saturated stare. Unfortunately, they had to wait for that... Arthur sighed softly as time continued to bleed slowly past. The prickling burn soon became monotonous, but Arthur felt high on the adrenaline it offered, mixing with the foreign substance-induced hormones already swimming in his blood. He wanted to do something reckless as soon as they were finished... His thoughts immediately drifted to a certain copper's patrol car that he had vaguely noticed parked just a few metres away from the parlour... only a street away from one of the station that Arthur was quite familiar with... Oh, yes, that would do wonderfully… The hour had passed uneventfully for Arthur, though in this state of mind, he was easily entertained, following invisible patterns on the ceiling or trailing invisible lines down Alfred’s torso from across the room. When the woman was done, Arthur stared at his elaborate, fresh tattoo for a good minute, dumbly fascinated, before he was able to move, gingerly fixing his trousers as he stood. Arthur had a bit of trouble paying for his, seeing as he currently had about as much sense as a someone with half a functioning brain. The woman aided him after he had stared at his notes for a good while, graciously helping herself to a large tip from his stack of monies before handing the rest to him. After that was finished, he waited not-so-patiently for Alfred to pay for his, before snagging his arm and dragging him from the parlour. The moment they were clear into the lamp lit street, Arthur shoved him against the brick side of the building, close to that copper bastard’s car… Greedy fingers pulled Alfred’s face down before smashing his mouth against his, licking and nibbling at his bottom lip with bruising firmness. He pulled back with an impatient noise, this time attacking the side of Alfred’s jaw, leaving a trail of soft bites before making it to his ear, sinking his teeth into the sensitive cartilage. ”Up for something quick?” He said, a wicked grin spreading across his face, warm breath coming quickly. Adrenaline from the raw skin of the new tattoo ran too fiercely through his blood for him to care a whit for consequences. He needed something and he needed it now. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - setting: East London, June 1976 tags: Alfred notes: Oh, the ridiculousness... I assumed that their tats would end up taking around the same time. xD credit: PANDIE of BTN [/style]