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Alfred yanked at his dark black tie. He finished musing his hair and stepped back to examine himself in the mirror under the light of the bathroom chandelier. He dared to undo one more button on his dress shirt, aware he was toeing the line between innocently relaxed and slutty. He didn’t want to ping anything on his mark's radar.
Maybe he looked hot. He knew he was; men and women would often hit on him. But to himself, he looked chubby and awkward, just nineteen years old and out of place among a bunch of old rich people. At a charity gala. In Britain. At the behest of the CIA.
He didn't even know why they needed him here. No clue why they needed some stupid codes that were allegedly inscribed on some small physical object, somewhere on the person of a tall, serious blonde who went by Arthur Kirkland, if that was even his real name.
They had shown him his photo. He was incredibly handsome with thick eyebrows and sharp features, maybe late thirties. Alfred made up for himself that he worked for MI6. The big British spy agency. But he really had no clue. They told him his job was to find the physical codes, likely on a piece of paper, and that it wouldn't be too hard because Arthur favored young men.
That bit of information set Alfred on edge. Would he have to try hard? To waltz around Arthur hoping he would take him up to his hotel room? Would Arthur figure him out the second he laid eyes on him? Just his photograph gave Alfred the impression that he was seasoned and deadly.
That's why Alfred favored the champagne. Out in the ballroom he whisked a glass from the platter of a butler, and tried his best to gracefully down it. The alcohol would cover for him. He would be the smashed and horny teenaged son of a wealthy investor, galavanting among the gala and coming across a tall, dark and handsome, who he couldn't resist. That wouldn't be suspicious.
He mingled with Erzebet before spotting him, catching Arthur as he laughed raucously at some joke. Either it was genuine or Arthur was a really good actor. As Alfred stalked over to him in the most casual manner he could muster, he felt prickles of sweat collect as his nerves climbed up his throat.
Maybe he could bump into him? Dancers in black suits and shiny dresses spun around decorated tables in the crowded ballroom. It wouldn't be unrealistic. He was maybe ten feet away when a cloud of panic seized him and he spun to grab another drink off of a tray, choosing to down it in the nearest seat. He should have said no to this. He hadn't been with another man before and the thought of his first time being like this sickened him. But it was either this or prison.
The bubbles of the champagne were bitter yet blissfully distracting as he thought back to the first mistake he made. It started with dosing blotter paper for a friend. As a chemistry major, it just made sense. Selling them around campus for a few weeks proved lucrative enough. Moving onto pills was a natural progression and a larger operation flowed as easily as the money did. In a month he made enough to cover his tuition for the whole semester. When the feds caught them, they only gave Alfred the offer: Go to prison or serve the time undercover.
Most of all he regretted not being careful enough. He imagined some life where he just said no to drug distribution and instead suffered through verbal abuse from fast food customers. His handlers were very clear; if he didn't perform, at any time he could head back to prison. And in prison, he couldn't drink champagne.
"Are you all right, love?"
Alfred felt a hand on his shoulder. In his self-pitying moment he had been hunched over with a hand across his forehead. He probably looked ill. But it wouldn't be too far off from how he felt.
The man crouched down on a knee before him, and Alfred met his startling green eyes.
"Do you need water?"
Alfred gaped but quickly steeled himself.
"No, I just need-" Alfred sprung back. "I mean. It would be nice to talk to someone."
Arthur studied him, before breaking out into a laugh. A stupidly charming laugh. "How much have you had to drink?"
"I don't know," Alfred said, his mind indeed weighed down by a miasma of alcohol.
Arthur sat in the chair next to him now, a hand on Alfred's wrist as if to keep him upright, even though that wasn't necessary.
"What do you need?"
Alfred almost giggled. Was this working? Arthur approached him when he looked vulnerable, as if he could smell it like sharks could smell blood in the water.
"Maybe I just need someone to listen?" Alfred said, meeting his gaze. It was hard, though. Arthur looked right through him, his eyes belying his intelligence, like he was making a million calculations per second.
"Go ahead..."
"Alfred. I'm Alfred," Alfred shot with a slow drunken smile.
"Arthur. Go ahead, Alfred."
"It's my dad. He just forces me to be at all of these events doing things I don't want to do. But it's really my fault. I made a bunch of stupid choices when I was younger."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah..."
Alfred felt Arthur's hand move from his wrist to his hand, gently cupping it.
"I can tell you're different, Alfred."
Alfred tried to suppress his laugh, settling on a bewildered expression. He was bewildered. He didn't think it would be this easy.
"What do you mean?" he gave his best warble and wide-eyed expression
"You seem like someone who is sensitive."
Alfred didn't know what to make of that. Why did he expect this guy to have better lines? "Uh, does that mean you think I'm hot?"
Arthur didn’t laugh as Alfred had hoped.
"Who said anything about that?"
Did he misread this? Was he delusional for thinking Arthur was hitting on him? Was his mark a genuinely caring person? This might be the make or break it moment, and Alfred decided to take a risk. He sighed.
"I think I need to be alone. I'm going back upstairs." Alfred followed his words by abruptly retreating, heading off to the elevators and dropping off his empty glass at a table. As he pushed the elevator up button he heard quick steps behind him.
Bingo.
"Alfred, why won't you come up to my room instead? You don't seem all right."
What a fucking pervert.
"What does your room have that my room doesn't?"
The elevator doors opened and they stepped in. Alfred let Arthur push the button to his floor.
"Condoms," Arthur said once the doors shut. Alfred let his jaw slacken. Arthur hit him with a quizzical expression. "Don’t know what those are?"
"I don't even know who you are."
"You don't know me?" Arthur said, and for a chilling second it seemed like Arthur was talking about his briefing. But then his expression changed. "I'm afraid I'm boring. I work for a bank. But it comes with some benefits." Arthur trailed off, probably implying that it gave him access to stupid balls like these with fresh meat like him.
The elevator dinged, and the door opened, but instead of arriving at their floor, a middle aged couple entered. He quickly schooled his expression and scooted towards Arthur to make room for them. Arthur wrapped a fire-hot hand around him, cupping his hip near his ass. Alfred allowed himself to inhale his scent and nestle against him. He could do this. Once the couple exited for their floor, Arthur tipped Alfred's head back to get at his lips, pushing him against the wall, a leg slotting between him. The friction sent chills up him, and he bunched his hands into Arthur’s suit jacket to keep from unraveling right there.
By the time they made it to Arthur's hotel room, Alfred had to periodically remind himself of his mission. Their lips were swollen from kissing, which Alfred didn't think these types of things involved a lot of kissing, but he didn't care because Arthur was good at it.
Somehow he found himself prone on the bed as Arthur worked his hand under his boxers, ghosting across his sensitive skin. He clung to Arthur’s shoulders as he worked him, before realizing that this provided a perfect opportunity to feel Arthur up without suspicion.
His attention volleyed to and fro from Arthur’s touch feverishly working him higher to his job of secretly patting Arthur down. He started by squeezing through his dress shirt at the most slender part of his hips, but only found smooth muscle. Digging his finger tips into Arthur’s ass yielded nothing except for Arthur to bite down on his neck in return. Alfred gasped at the pain of it and fought the urge to cover the heat on his face. Just when his hands wrapped around to pat Arthur’s pants pockets, Arthur inserted two slicked fingers inside of him, and he couldn’t help the noises that came out of him as he came. Arthur continued to work him through it. Sweat, come, and settled arousal mixed around his stomach.
So far, he was entirely naked and Arthur remained entirely clothed, that fucking asshole. For all Alfred knew, the codes were secured under Arthur’s sock garters or something. He seemed the type to wear those. In a burst of frustration he reached out and unbuttoned Arthur’s slacks, attempting to yank them off Arthur’s hips and over the hard-on tenting the fabric.
Firm hands shoved him back. Arthur regarded him with a curious expression, and Alfred got the impression he was in trouble. Stupidly, that only caused another flurry of arousal to flush through him.
"Get on your knees."
Alfred obeyed too quickly, assuming position by the side of the bed, as Arthur sat on the edge over him.
"I know what you're looking for."
Alfred froze in place. Arthur undid his pants and finally let his cock spring free. Red and straining, it was larger than Alfred thought it would be.
"You want someone to tell you what to do."
A gentle hand cupped the back of his head and pushed his lips to the head of cock. Alfred acquiesced, tossing his fears out of his mind. Codes or no codes, maybe he could enjoy this. It was soft against his lips, and he decided to take it down as far as he could go, like he saw them do in porn, and as he once practiced on a dildo. Arthur moaned and rutted into him, his initial softness chipping away as his hands kept Alfred from bobbing his head back up all the way. Arthur used his mouth like he was a doll, yet with enough grace to move slowly, like Alfred could fall apart like a house of cards. It was as if he was trying to last as long as possible, Alfred realized as the ache in his jaw started to bore deeper. As the amount of saliva dripping down his chin started to feel undignified, Arthur pulled him off by his hair.
"I want to take you, love," Arthur said, guiding him up.
"Uh you're so hot, dude," Alfred slipped out as he stood up. "But I--" Alfred paused as Arthur roughly maneuvered him so he was bent over the bed, ass up. He had thought Arthur would have been slightly sappy, wanting to see his expression or something, as he had done when jerking him off.
"Up,” Arthur only said, tapping him on the hips.
Alfred realized Arthur paused to slip on a condom. He turned back to see Arthur was mostly clothed, his shirt still on, his slacks only pooled at his knees, as if he wanted to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
“Wait,” Alfred choked out. His heart fluttered like a rabbit’s. He wasn’t sure how bad this would hurt. He still hadn’t a damn clue where the stupid codes were. In his mind he’d imagined he’d already have found the codes before they got to this part.
"I've never done this before,” Alfred managed. It shocked him how honest he sounded. Almost scared. He was thankful only the headboard could see his face.
Arthur gently pushed him back down against the mattress, so his face was flush against a pillow. He rubbed a few circles into his neck before pushing his cheeks apart and brushing his cock over his hole.
"I'll go slow at first." And with that he shoved inside Alfred. His breath hitched at the stretch, but Arthur didn't wait as he glided deeper, grabbing Alfred’s hips and shoving them up until they were flush together, the burning sensation driving Alfred to grip the sheets in front of him. Arthur seemed to take a pause, and Alfred couldn’t think of much else than the intrusion in his ass. It felt alien, embarrassing, and Alfred gulped down big breaths to calm himself, feeling lightheaded from the strain and his arousal.
"You were pretty good, you know," Arthur said as he started to move, inching in and out of him at the promised slow pace. Alfred could only moan at the sensation of being split open and rocked into, with Arthur controlling precisely how deeply he went. "I wouldn't be sure this is your first time otherwise. But everything else confirms it."
"What?" Alfred managed. His next words died in throat as Arthur cruelly picked up the pace and roughness, pulling almost all the way out and slamming into him. He could only arch his back more and rock back to meet him.
Ripples of pleasure unnerved him as struggled to hold the proper position. Arthur became louder as he railed him, gripping his hips tightly as he sensed Alfred slipping. The sound of their slapping skin sounded so lewd and Alfred again thanked god that he’d buried his face away from Arthur.
The last of his sanity evaporated as he came. He felt Arthur tug at him to spin over, and quickly Arthur brought his legs up to his shoulders before entering him again.
"There's a lad."
Alfred could barely think, trying not to make eye contact as everything became too much. He already felt sore, the rubbing of his own dick over his skin as Arthur fucked into him again quickly became unbearable, and yet being used like this sent a hot flush through his limbs. On top of that, he could only guess Arthur flipped him over so he could finally watch him.
"You’re a natural at following orders. Are they so bad if they led to this?"
Arthur only shuddered as Alfred seized around him. His stomach plummeted, but Arthur was quick, snatching Alfred’s hands up in a vice-like grip, stretching them above his head. He slammed into Alfred so hard the bed knocked against the wall as Arthur worked stupid moans out of him until finally Arthur collapsed over him.
Alfred resumed his struggle, but it was dampened by the fact that Arthur was still inside him. Every twist and turn to try to extricate himself felt erotic. He deeply wanted to lie there and savor the post-fucked feeling but spirals of anxiety drove him to keep up the fight. He was pretty sure somehow Arthur had found him out.
Arthur so far could parry his every blow. He tried to fight dirty by yanking on Arthur’s hair but earned himself a slap across the face. As he processed the sudden stinging he felt cool metal tightened across his wrists and click into place. Arthur finally pulled away.
Alfred leapt to his feet, pushing past dizziness as he observed the handcuffs tight around his wrist. "What the hell, dude?" He grinned as swung his arms around and managed to nail Arthur in the temple. But the second time around, Arthur dodged him and easily pushed him back over the bed. The last thing he felt was a small prick on his neck before the world fell away into nothingness.
***
When he came to, he was tied up differently. He was still on the bed but his hands were cuffed behind him, with his feet curled up and secured to his wrists. Sickly nausea rolled deep in his gut.
The sound of Arthur clearing his throat startled him.
"You did very well, Alfred."
Alfred stared up at him, trying to defiantly mask his dread and humiliation. His hair was freshly mused and his suit didn't boast a single wrinkle. He fiddled with his watch as he bent down so he was eye level with Alfred's head against the bed.
"My dad is going to hear about this. He’ll have you arrested." It sounded weak even to Alfred.
"Is it the daddy who lives in the New York City penthouse or the daddy who lives in suburban Illinois?"
"I--my father is a C.E.O. He-he could ruin your life for this," Alfred stuttered.
"So valiant to the end." Arthur smirked and Alfred internally screamed. It was one thing to be beaten, but to be beaten so entirely and thoroughly like this?
"Fuck you, you didn't have to go this far."
Arthur moved his hand to cup Alfred's bare penis.
"But wasn’t it fun?"
As he started pumping, Alfred didn't pull away, even if his binds would have allowed him that. Instead he leaned into his calloused palm, letting Arthur stroke him to hardness.
"Were you looking for this, love?" Arthur said.
Alfred opened his eyes to see a tiny paper disc, about one inch in diameter, pinched between Arthur's fingers. Small ink was printed on it, small enough that you likely needed a microscope to decode it. That would be it, some real spy shit.
Arthur analyzed his expression as he no doubt traveled from surprise to hope to depression again.
"You fucking asshole."
"Don't be so quick. I'll do you a favor," Arthur said, still continuing to pump his dick slowly. "I'll leave this with you. It's not the proper code you are looking for, but they won’t blame you for that." Arthur stood up, removing his hand away from Alfred's fully erect and straining cock, and reaching to slip the small disc into the pocket of slacks from the ground. "You can tell them you agreed to let me tie you up, which they will believe, but only after you found this inside my inner suit pocket."
"Why would you do this?" Alfred all but scoffed, seriously annoyed that Arthur pulled away after working him all up.
"I don't think good things would happen to you if you failed. Am I correct?"
Alfred looked away. What the hell did he know?
"But if you show some prowess, they'll chance you again. I think that increases our odds of seeing each other again, doesn't it?"
Arthur backed away towards the door, and Alfred realized he was going to leave.
"Wait. Get these off of me! I promise I won't do anything. Come back!"
"Goodbye Alfred."
As the door clicked shut behind him, Alfred strained against his bonds before collapsing, the metal digging red groves into his skin. Naked as the day he was born and afflicted with a useless hard cock, Alfred could only curse the stupid British spy asshole who screwed him so severely.
After a few litanies of “fuck that guy”, Alfred’s government issued cell phone began to ring, sealing his doom.