Chapter Text
The window toward the street was open, allowing the soothing spring breeze to brush past the drawn curtains. On the stove, the momentarily forgotten dinner was simmering, and a few feet beside it, John had Arthur cornered against the kitchen counter, mouthing along his jaw.
Arthur hummed as John caught his skin between his teeth. John felt the vibrations against his own chest and palm as he pressed it harder against Arthur’s back, urging him closer. His other hand cupped the man’s jaw, cradling him as he trailed gentle kisses down his neck, inhaling the smell of aftershave and…Arthur.
The thought made John draw back, catching his breath as he took in the man before him. John’s stomach fluttered at what he saw.
A faint blush dusting freckled cheeks – either from the wine or the past couple of minutes together. Eyes previously closed in content slowly flickering open. A mouth curling into a shy smile.
“John?” Arthur murmured, sounding breathless. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and John stared and stared and stared.
Then he leaned down and kissed him again, simply because he was weak, and simply because he could.
Humans kissing – or snogging, as Arthur had once indelicately called it – was not a foreign concept to John. It had, however, taken time for him to fully…understand.
It’s how some choose to show affection, Arthur had explained months ago, back when John ‘s body was still new, when the overwhelming sensations and impressions still sent him into a panic almost daily.
Why don’t we do it, then? John had asked. He’d then had to slam his hand into Arthur’s back to save him from choking on his dinner.
John had admittedly not seen the appeal at first.
But with Arhtur—
Ever since their lips first touched, ever since he’d heard Arthur’s breath hitch, and the way his voice had trembled slightly after their lips had parted, he had understood. Moments like this one had become more frequent, usually initiated by Arthur asking for permission and followed by a gentle caress of lips.
This time, however, had been different.
Arthur, despite John’s numerous attempts at reminding him that he did not have to, had been stirring the soup simmering in the pot. John knew there was no point in arguing. Now that their minds no longer shared the same body, he had begun to sense a lingering anxiousness around Arthur when it came to their daily chores. It was as though he thought John would one day pack his bags and leave if he didn’t prove himself…useful.
The thought alone pained John. How could Arthur not see that he had nothing to prove? That he was already more than enough? That John was the one who should be groveling at his feet, expressing his undying gratitude of being allowed to remain in his life?
John had gazed at Arthur, only partially listening as he continued talking animatedly about the talkie they’d attended the day prior. As he spoke, sunlight bled through the white curtains, setting Arthur’s hair ablaze and illuminating his entire being, dancing across his freckled face as he laughed, recounting what he’d heard during the film with great excitement, oblivious of John’s wonderous gaze.
John’s chest had been so full of warmth he thought he would burst.
Arthur’s unseeing eyes had then shifted to John’s direction, and with a soft smile he had asked, “How about you, darling? What did you think?”
John had started, mouth suddenly dry.
Darling.
The name sent an unexpected thrill up John’s spine. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d pushed himself out of his chair, walked up to Arthur, spun him around and leaned down to kiss him.
Arthur had made a muffled noise of surprise, and John had quickly pulled away, terrified that he’d done something wrong, that this wasn’t how any of this worked. Arthur’s eyes had been wide, body frozen against John. Then his shoulders relaxed, his hand settling on John’s cheek, a smile breaking out on his face.
“You know, a warning is always appreciated,” he’d mused.
John had felt his face grow warm. “I’m sorry,” he’d immediately apologized. But he made no attempt to step back. The warmth in his stomach spread, a sudden want at seeing Arthur’s tongue drag across his lips driving him forward, making him bolder. “I…I would very much like to do it again. Would…would that be alright?”
Arthur’s eyes had widened, lips parting. “Oh, John,” he had sighed, pulling him closer. “Always.”
Now, Arthur’s mouth was soft against his, wet with spit, and oh so warm. Each slide of their lips sent a jolting shock of pleasure through him, made him feel alive in a way he’d never experienced before. Each gently press, each satisfied hum or soft moan made a flutter of warmth spread through John stomach, caused goosebumps to rise on his arms.
John cupped Arthur’s cheek, angling his head to deepen the kiss, and suddenly, it was as though a blazing fire had been lit low in his gut, liquifying him from within. He pressed closer, drinking in Arthur’s surprised noise as he gathered the back of Arthur’s shirt in his fist.
He wanted to…he wanted—
Arthur suddenly broke the kiss with a breathless chuckle, cupping John’s face.
John rocked back, breathing heavily, and opened his eyes. The pink that had coated Arthur’s cheeks had deepened in color and spread down to his neck, and his tousled hair nearly covered his eyes. Crinkles deepened their corners as he smiled softly. “John,” he laughed airily, “Darling, you have to give me a moment to breathe.”
Darling.
There was that name again, sending John’s mind reeling. He couldn’t understand it, how this man could have such an influence over him. And seemingly, without him even knowing.
John stared, taking Arthur in, eyes darting back to his red lips.
Christ. He is so fucking beautiful.
John swallowed thickly. It was frightening, what this man made him feel. What he made him want to do. To capture Arthur’s lips with his own and kiss him until the only thing he could think of was John, until all he could say was—
Arthur grabbed John’s chin, pulling him back to the present. “Are you even listening to me?” he said, sounding amused.
John blinked. “What?”
Arhtur rolled his eyes, a fond smile playing on his lips. “I said,” he began, shifting against John, and—
Oh.
John froze, so suddenly it could almost be considered a flinch. On their own accord, his eyes darted down to where their hips met.
Arthur was hard. John felt it press against his hip, could almost feel the heat of it through their layers of clothes.
John’s mind reeled, heat pooling deep in his gut. For a second, he contemplated…leaning into the sensation. Pinning Arthur against the counter and finding out what other noises he could lure out of his kiss-bruised lips.
But then he noticed the way Arthur had stilled, shoulders growing tense, face suddenly blank, and clarity hit him like a train.
He released Arthur’s hips and took a stumbling step back, his head spinning.
Fuck, shit.
There were too many uncertainties. What if Arthur didn’t...they hadn’t spoken about anything other than kissing. John didn’t even know if Arthur— Fuck, what if he’d made a terrible mistake and—
“John?”
John startled.
Arthur was frowning at him, eyes clouded with concern. He was gripping the edge countertop, as if needing the support to keep himself upright without John close by. His cheeks were still dusted with pink, his white shirt wrinkled with how John had subconsciously pulled it out of his trousers to press his fingers to his skin, nails raking along his spine— Fuck, John, get it together.
“John, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” John said, words coming too quickly. Arthur’s frown only deepened, and something like fear rushed through John. He had been right. Arthur didn’t…he couldn’t possibly want—
He abruptly took another step back, glancing at the door. “Nothing, it—look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“John—”
“Just forget it, alright?” John snapped, immediately regretting the biting tone to his voice when Arthur flinched. “I’m sorry, let’s just…not waste more time on this than we must, and—”
“John.”
Silence spread between them. A sour feeling spread through John’s stomach, at the realization that he’d fucked up. Again.
Arthur finally heaved a sigh, shoulders dropping. “Listen,” he began hesitantly, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m going to fast with…with all this. So we’ll stop, alright? I shouldn’t have- fuck.” John suddenly realized that Arthur seemed embarrassed, a hand coming up to rub his forehead, a pained grimace on his face. “I’m sorry, John, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to…to pressure you into this—”
John took a step forward, shaking his head. “What—Arthur, no. No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”
Embarrassment was quickly replaced with confusion as Arthur’s brows furrowed. “Then what are you saying?”
John opened his mouth, then closed it again. He stared at Arthur, at the man who had been his own reflection for longer than he had this one, the man whose scars he was painfully familiar with.
The man whose heart he knew better than his own.
Arthur’s hand twitched, as if he’d thought to reach out but stopped himself at the last second. “John, talk to me. Please. I can’t—I have to know what you’re thinking.”
John swallowed. “I just—fuck. I, uh.” John fiddled with the hem of his shirt, a nervous trait he had picked up since getting this body. “It’s…it’s not that I don’t want to…keep going,” he began slowly, only daring a few glances at Arthur. The man was listening intently, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to solve a challenging riddle. John took a deep breath, then forced the words out. “It’s… the opposite, in fact.”
Arthur’s brow furrowed, head cocking to the side. “The opposite?” He repeated hesitantly. “The opposite of—” he broke off suddenly, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Oh, you—oh.”
The silence that spread was deafening. The confidence John had had minutes earlier as he’d pressed Arthur against the counter was long gone. It didn’t help that Arthur was staring at him with a painstakingly shocked expression, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
John’s shoulders crept up toward his ears. Quickly, he turned away, feeling heat rise up his neck. This had been a bad idea. A terrible one, even. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything—”
Arthur’s fumbling hand reaching out and settling on John’s arm made him freeze. When he looked up, Arthur had a strange look in his eye, his cheeks were a shade darker when he asked, “What…what do you mean by that. ‘The opposite.’”
John swallowed. He could tell him. Could reveal all the thoughts that he now realized had plagued him for weeks now.
He could reveal that he wanted to get down on his knees for Arthur. That he wished to drink in every sound he made, and relish in the fact that he was the one luring the sounds out of him. That he sometimes woke up hard after dreaming of worshipping Arthur with his hands, his lips, his—
John sucked in a sharp breath. His pulse was throbbing against his throat, in his chest, between his legs. He shifted, a flush rising to his face.
Just as he was about to speak, Arthur cut him to it. “I’m sorry, John, you don’t have to—” He still looked concerned, but more embarrassed now than before, face turned further down.
And that—that just wouldn’t do.
So John, after offering a mental fuck it to the universe, placed his hand over Arthur’s, and said, “I want to touch you.”
Arthur’s head shot up. They both fell silent, processing John’s words.
John felt heat on his neck once again – fuck – but forced himself to keep going. “I mean. I would like to, if. If you—” He swore under his breath, palms beginning to sweat.
After a few tense heartbeats, he dared a glance at Arthur, and immediately froze.
The faint blush had spread across Arthur’s cheeks down to his neck. His eyes were sharper than they had been moments earlier, having grown darker somehow. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed – John followed the movement, mouth suddenly dry.
“Touch me…how?”
“Everywhere.”
The words tumbled out before John could stop them, and Arthur exhaled shakily.
It was here that John hesitated. He felt like he was balancing on a tightrope, his heart threatening to jump out of his throat, one move away from disaster.
But the only way was forward.
He stepped closer, pulse speeding up when Arthur’s breath hitched. Slowly, he lifted his hand and ghosted his fingers along the outline of Arthur’s collarbone. “I…I do not know how to describe these…urges,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly. Arthur’s eyes were dark, knuckles turning white around the edge of the counter, and John had to take a deep breath to calm himself. “I do not know why I have them. All I know is that I wish to touch you here…” he allowed his touch to wander down his chest, “…here, and—” he broke off, swallowing thickly as his eyes dropped to where his fingers rested on Arthur’s belt.
His gaze turned to Arthur’s face, taking in the open expression, the freckles hiding underneath the deep blush. “I want it all. If you’ll allow me.”
Arthur was silent for a moment, chest rising and falling rapidly. Just as John feared he may have said too much, Arthur’s hand wrapped around John’s arm, gripping tightly. “Jesus, John, you- you really want that? You’re certain?”
John nearly reeled back. “Am I—of course I fucking am. I didn’t say all that as a joke, Arthur.”
Arthur shook his head as he ducked his head, a breathy laugh escaping him. “John, no, that’s not what I—”
“And now you’re laughing at me—”
Arthur suddenly grabbed the front of John’s shirt, closing the remaining distance between them. John froze, heart near jumping out of his chest before he quickly kissed back.
There was a new heat to this kiss – Arthur opened his mouth almost instantly, and an electric shock shot through John’s spine when their tongues met, when he felt Arthur’s heavy breaths against his lips, when he heard the moan that loosened from his chest.
Absentmindedly, John clocked the moment Arthur’s fingers found their way underneath John’s shirt, gripping, massaging, clawing. It was on the brink of too sharp, just enough to make John’s breath hitch, desire coursing through his veins.
“Arthur,” John whispered, pleaded, against Arthur lips. In return, Arthur shuddered, digging his fingers deeper into John’s muscle.
“My name,” Arthur rasped between stolen kisses, “sounds divine on your lips.”
John was suddenly very aware of Arthur’s cock once again pressing against his thigh, and a new need awakened in him. Experimentally, almost cautiously, he eased his leg between Arthur’s own, pressing his thigh against Arthur’s hardness.
Arthur stilled, and for a moment John feared he had made a mistake. Then Arthur hesitantly rocked his hips forward, a slow, grinding movement, and the following moan made John fear his heart might stop. He settled a hand low on Arthur’s back, urging him to rock forward against his thigh, groaning as Arthur moaned in pleasure.
John stared down at the man before him, before pressing a lingering kiss to the shell of his ear. “And your moans sound fucking sinful,” he whispered.
“Oh, fuck,” Arthur gasped. His hand flew to John’s arms with a subtle whine, gripping tightly. “John,” he breathed, and suddenly tensed. “Wait, wait, stop.”
John immediately froze. Did he move too fast? Did he hurt him?
Finally, Arthur seemed to be able to unstick his mouth, uttering a rushed, “Bedroom.”
Relief rushed through John before it was quickly replaced with a new kind of terror.
Arthur’s eyes furrowed, seeming to notice the way John’s shoulder had stiffened. “Oh, John, I—” he cut himself off, took a moment to gather his thoughts, then tried again. This time, his voice was sharper, his tone more serious. “John, there are no…conditions to this. If at any point you don’t wish to take this any further, we stop. I wish to make that abundantly clear.”
“That’s not— I am comfortable. Always, with you. I just— “John swallowed thickly, frustration blooming as he felt his cheeks darken. “I want to be…good. For you.”
Surprise flashed across Arthur’s face. Then it morphed into something so filled with affection that John felt the blush spread down to his neck.
“Oh, darling,” Arthur cooed. His hand found John’s jaw, thumb stroking across his cheek. “It’s you, John. You are already good enough, and so much more. Besides, you are not alone in feeling…anxious. Christ, John, I’m…terrified of causing you any distress.”
“Arthur,” John said, the fear dissolving with every beat of Arthur’s heart against his palm as he pressed it to the man’s chest. “It’s you. You could never hurt me.”
An expression of remorse flashed across Arthur’s face. “I have before,” he said quietly.
“Hey,” John said, once again cupping Arthur’s cheek. “It’s us.”
Arthur’s shoulders relaxed, a soft smile curling the corners of his mouth. “It’s us.”