Unrequited? A Lie Told-A Promise Broken

1. Art

Welcome back Unrequited? The Series fans.

That was a short break but I guess the characters Art and Fiat are still speaking to me.

This is an idea I'm testing out. This story has been haunting my dreams and I decided to just get it out.

I might still go back and do a Unrequited 2 that picks up after they finally get together. My mind is still forming that. But this story is a real mind stalker. So I'll share it.

Warning this story is VERY angsty.

I'll set the stage...

Six years in the future Art is sent on assignment in London. Fiat is on edge with the knowledge that Art will be gone for six months.

After a month Art is confused when Fiat goes fully ghost.

-Art-

"I can't believe you're even taking Milo." He says as he watches me pack my suitcase.

"Yeah, as a hostage. Now you have nothing to keep you here. You can pout as much as you like but I know you'll hurry and follow."

"I do have a job." He says flatly.

"That you hate. You despise working for your father so fuck it. There are jobs in London."

He sits on the bed and looks at his hands.

I zip my suitcase and pull it to the floor. I watch him intently. I can read every thought in his head.

I walk over to stand in front of him. He doesn't look up.

I lean down close to his face and lift his chin. Ugh,  he is wearing that expression. The sulky one that makes him look so innocent. The face I hate but never fails to turn me on.

I smile at him.
"Fiat, are you sick or sulky?"

His eyebrows furrow.
"Art-

"What did you call me?"

He blinks at me for a few seconds.
"Mr. Art"

"Correct."

"Mr. Art you don't have time for this."

I take a breath and check my watch.
"My plane leaves in a little over two and a half hours. I'm packed and Milo's packed. I think I'll be fine. Besides I always make time to fuck my boyfriend."

I reach to gently stroke his cheekbone with my knuckles.

His eyebrow furrow deepens. I wrap my arms around him and straddle him at the edge of the bed.

I take his chin in my hand and hold his gaze.
I hate that he looks so sad.
"Fiat, What did I tell you about that face?"

"What face Mr. Art?" He mutters.

"The sulky one."

"You don't like it."

"And?"

"If you see it again you'll fuck it away."

"Good boy."

Without another word I lean in and kiss him gently at first but it isn't long before my beating heart urges me to devour him. How is it six years later and he still drives me mad with passion?