ANTONY & CLEOPATRA → ALFIE SOLOMONS

"first"

Hesitant and nervous. Lips hover inches from each other for a few seconds before they just barely brush. It's just a soft press, but it ignites their entire bodies. Pinkies link afterward, still wanting to be close, and each looks down, smiling softly.

"Thank you for walking me home, Mr. Solomons."

"You know, I've told you you could call me Alfie."

"Right, sorry Alfie."

There was a silence after that, one that was strange but not unwelcome. Alfie wanted to say something, something to dismiss himself from the situation before he could fall even more hopelessly in love with you, but the way your eyes glinted in the moonlight kept him tethered to that spot, lips parting around words he couldn't bring himself to say.

"Are you alright, Alfie?" You asked, reaching out to take his hand. He watched the movement and stared at your small dainty hand resting on his calloused and rough one. It didn't look right at all, and Alfie couldn't rip his eyes from your joint hands.

Misinterpreting the shock as discomfort, you pulled your hand back, your face flushing red with embarrassment. At this point, Alfie was ready to put a pistol to his temple and call it a night.

"I should go in," you mumbled, toying with the keys in your hand. You wanted to kick yourself for being such an idiot; here you had a man that you were actually interested in, and you managed to make a complete fool of yourself. "Thank you for tonight, Mr. Solomons, I—

Alfie cut off whatever you were about to say with a step forward, one of his hands coming up to hold your face, squishing your cheeks slightly. The rings on his fingers were cold against your skin, and you shivered, though you were unsure if it was due to the rings or the intense look he was fixing you with.

"Alfie," he said, and you could have dropped to your knees at the sound of his voice. "Call me Alfie, sweetheart."

You rested your blazing cheek in his palm, your eyes flickering between his lips and his gaze, wondering to yourself which one enticed you more. Unconsciously, you took a step forward, your chest pressed flush against his.

"Okay, Alfie," you whispered, your hand bracing itself against his warm chest, the white linen shirt the only thing separating his heartbeat from your fingertips. "Thank you for tonight—I quite enjoyed myself."

"Not a problem, doll." Alfie's voice had taken on something soft and sweet, like a young soldier wooing his love. "Not a problem at all."

Alfie's head lowered as he spoke, and you inched up, your lips brushing as Alfie grinned. You pouted as he kissed the corner of your mouth first, still holding you by the chin. With a small huff of laughter, Alfie pressed his lips to yours, drawing you up on the tips of your toes with the honey of his tongue, expertly tracing the swell of your bottom lip.

You knew that if Tommy were to see you now, he would have your head on a spike.

At just the thought of doing something that would displease your brother, your lips parted, arms going around Alfie's neck. When you finally pulled away, you were both grinning and breathless.

"Alfie, would you like to come inside?"

"That I would, doll. That I would."