Paint Me A Dancer [USUK]

Chapter 9

Alfred sighed as he wrapped his hand around his cock, a disturbing loud grunt immediately escaping his lips at the balmy contact. Damn Arthur, damn England, damn Artie, damn whatever he calls him, this is his fault. If it weren't for him, he wouldn't be sitting on the toilet lid jerking himself off.

He tried to imagine the dancer without his leather pants, kneeling on the floor in front of him and sucking him to the fullest. Ah, those green and lustful desperate eyes watching him in half lids as he swirls his tongue on the head. Oh how it would make Alfred moan like some kind of a whore no one has encountered yet.

He started to pump faster, rolling his hips with the motion as he cried muffled words until he felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He ran a finger on the head, imagining it was Arthur's hot tongue and immediately came on his palms.

He growled lowly to himself feeling satisfied yet, guilty. He hasn't even properly met the guy but he had already jerked at the image of him. He quietly rose up to wash his stained hands in the sink and he buckled his dirt-free pants afterwards. He better get back down in the kitchen and fix themselves something to eat since starving Arthur wasn't a good idea.

He went downstairs and he was only three steps away when he smelled something burning from the kitchen. His hero instincts came rushing to him like waterfalls and he immediately jumped down and dashed to the said place only to find a certain Brit happily singing while pulling a tray of what seems like... 'chocolate' out of the oven. Arthur must have sensed his presence since he turned around and gave the American an awkward smile. "H-hey there,"

Alfred beamed back and went towards him. "Hey, what's up?"

"Oh, I hope you don't mind but we haven't had dinner yet so I decided to bake something." Arthur replied and tilted the pan to let the other see his works.

The blue eyed man smiled widely, showing off his perfect white teeth and he grabbed the other to give him a short, meaningful side hug. "Thanks Artie! Really appreciated it!"

The Briton blushed but said nothing anyway. He tried to pry the other off but before he could protest, Alfred let go of him. He surely wasn't disappointed, not that he would admit it anyway.

"Okay, Artie, let's give this a shot." Alfred screamed and picked one up, waving it in the air to cool it down a bit. "Wow, your chocolate's rock hard."

Arthur's face paled and he quickly elbowed the other. "It's not chocolate, you git! These are scones!"

Alfred gave him a confuse look but shrugged anyway. "Whatever," He took a large bite and savored the black thing but it wasn't even a second later that he started spewing the food out of his mouth. "What in the world of fuck was that?!"

Arthur, startled and shock, looked away and hid his red face from the painter. He just humiliated himself in front of him and not just once, twice! Bloody twice in just one day and not to mention, his first day. His eyes watered for a bit and he blinked back the tears that was starting to form. "No, Arthur, it's bloody fine, don't you cry, dimwit." He whispered to himself and after a few seconds or so, he composed his posture and masked his sadness with a fake smile. "I'm sorry for that."

Alfred waved a free hand at him as the other tried to wipe off the excess flavor that had clung onto his tongue. "No problem, don't sweat on it." He smiled.

A while later, they decided that a pizza delivery would do.

"Ah, man, that was awesome!" Alfred moaned as he slide his back lower on the couch, his friend sitting a few spaces beside him. "Now I'm full."

Arthur said nothing but he did nod his head to show the other that he's listening. Truth to be told, he hasn't moved on yet about the cooking incident. He fully knows that his cooking sucks but he tried his best! He tried, and tried, and tried, only to fail at the end.

Alfred notices the stillness of Arthur (and the half eaten pizza on his hand) and he immediately knew that something wasn't right. "You okay, Artie?"

"For the last time, my name's Arthur." The Brit replied weakly.

Alfred sat up and scooted closer to the other. "Aw, what's wrong?"

Their shoulders bumped and Arthur swore he felt a low spark of electricity coming from the American, causing him to pull away all of a sudden. He gave him a forced smile and he held up his unfinished pizza. "You can have this, I'm pretty full."

Alfred's face contorted in horror and his hands quickly shot up to the other's forehead. He felt his temperature and he sighed in relief when he deciphered that the Brit wasn't sick. "Are you sure? I mean, that's only your second, you know?"

Arthur absentmindedly nodded and reached out his piece, only for the other to push it back to him. "What the bloody hell? I told you I'm full!"

Alfred mentally cringed at the loud tone and he hesitantly smiled at him. "W-well, no need to be upset, I'm just concerned about you anyway." He said.

Arthur's face heated despite his lonely situation but he decided to keep up his infamous scowl. "Thank you for the concern, but really Alfred, I'm full."

The American gave him a skeptical look and thought for a moment of what could be the matter. Okay, what did Arthur do again? He cooked him scones and he shamelessly denied it and-

A light bulb suddenly showed up above his head and his eyed widen in realization. "Oh God, gee, I'm still hungry!" The American whined as he scooted even closer, leaving no space in between the two of them. "I want to eat something!"

Arthur clicked his tongue and offered him his food but Alfred merely shook his head. "I was thinking of something other than that."

Arthur puffed his cheeks and looked away but the American held his head firmly in place, making him stare at his cerulean pools. "I'm serious." He muttered to him.

"You don't have much food in your refrigerator, what other food are you referring to?" Arthur asked and he quickly redden at the idea that Alfred might be suggesting something perverted. "U-unless you wanted my-"

"Yes, Arthur! I want to eat it!" Alfred piped up and moved away to give the other a thing called space. He childishly laughed and showed off his thousand watt smile.

"You must be joking me!" Arthur replied, his face turning a deeper shade of red each second.

"Nuh-uh! I'm hella' serious, bro! Give it to me, I bet it'll taste better than the first one that I have eaten!"

The Brit's breath caught in his throat and he felt his heart stopped shortly before running at a horse's pace. Alfred had already sucked someone off? "You know I can't just give you that, you bloody wanker!"

"Why not?" Alfred pouted and pulled his puppy eyes trick again knowing that the he has a knack on it. "Please, I swear I'll eat 'em all!"

D-does he want my hole too? Arthur shook the ridiculous idea off his head and he slowly reached a hand to his zipper. "O-okay then, if you're really that eager then I guess I might give you what you want,"

He stood up and he looked away as his hands slowly pulled the fly downwards and Alfred suddenly cut him off.

"What the heck are you doing?" He asked obliviously as he followed the other's hand.

Arthur rolled his eyes at him and gestured his lower region. "You said you wanted to eat it."

Alfred suddenly became quiet and Arthur suspended his actions. Didn't Alfred said he want it?

" ...I meant your scones, dude." The painter suddenly said and if Arthur could ask the floor to swallow him down, he would have done it at the moment. His face was now redder than blood and he mentally beat himself up.

"E-eh?"

"Your scones... not your-"

"Bloody hell, this is the third time already!" The poor Brit screamed as he marched towards his room, leaving a confuse American sitting on the couch with a baffled expression.

"Well, I'm still eating them!" Alfred called out as he slowly rose to head towards the kitchen. Well, maybe he had to make an accurate sentence the next time.