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[Fanfiction] Act Natural 2/5

Title: Act Natural [Chapter 2/5]
Genre: Romance/Comedy
Pairing(s): US/UK, implied GerIta & Spamano
Rating/Warnings: Overall NC-17 for an abundance of fantasized sex.
Summary: Arthur Kirkland, porn novelist extraordinaire, is suffering from writer's block. His new muse shows up on his doorstep with an American accent, a mega-watt smile and a tool belt. [written for the kink meme]

“Hey, Mr. Kirkland,” Alfred said as he opened his door, smiling and hitching up his pants. Arthur noticed, with no small amount of pleasure, that the man had forgotten to wear an actual belt beneath his tool belt and his pants were struggling to stay high enough to be decent. Lovely.

Arthur sent a silent thanks to the gods of porn, his mind already spinning beautifully detailed poetry that worshiped that small amount of hip and muscle that was on display before him. He'd been wondrously correct in assuming that, with Mr. Vargas busy fixing the Spaniard's unbroken oven, Alfred was the only one available to come fix Arthur's new problem.

“Alfred, thank you for coming,” Arthur murmured, and he meant it. His fingers were actually twitching in want for his laptop keyboard, impatient to continue the wonderful story that had begun to unfold with Alfred's last visit.

“I heard about your nephew,” the American said with a grin. “I've got a couple cousins back home who really like to explode things; you'd think they had some sort of superpower for it or something.”

Arthur made a great and valiant effort not to wince at the American's grammar and smiled as he led the man to the staircase. “Yes, Peter can be quite the nuisance when he puts his mind to it,” Arthur agreed, not feeling any sense of remorse for blaming his troublesome nephew for something he hadn't actually done. He'd babysat the little shit enough times, and the endless crap Arthur put up with when he was around – well. The kid owed him. Big time.

“Well, I'm glad Lovino could help you out,” Alfred said, smiling. “He's busy today though, somebody actually requested him, haha!”

“Is that so?” Arthur asked, glad Alfred couldn't see his face as they finally approached his newly broken appliance. Arthur hadn't ever been good at poker.

“So this is the one, huh?” Alfred asked, scooting in past Arthur so that he could take a good look at the shower-head that was hanging pathetically out of the tiled wall of his shower. Arthur imagined a small section of the wall would need to be redone and perhaps a little plumbing as well, and he hoped it would take a long, long time.

“How did this happen?” the American asked, lifting the shower-head gently and examining the wall it hung from.

“I was cleaning the tiles and I slipped off the stool I was standing on,” Arthur explained. “I grabbed onto the shower-head so I wouldn't fall and ripped it out.”

And that was actually pretty much a true statement. If you took out 'I was cleaning the tiles and I slipped off the stool I was standing on' and 'so I wouldn't fall,' it was a completely accurate description of what had happened.

Alfred hummed and glanced his way. “You weren't hurt, were you?”

Arthur felt a blush spreading across his cheeks. He had, in fact, gotten hurt. The abrupt loosening of the shower-head had taken him by surprise and he'd fallen, bruising his hip. Alfred's concern was touching and a little arousing, truth be told, and Arthur definitely wouldn't mind milking his injury for all it was worth in an effort to get the American to take care of him.

But he had work to do. Porn to write and whatnot. And it wouldn't get written if Arthur was too busy enjoying those strong, dexterous fingers as they soothed cooling balm over his viciously, viciously bruised hip, trailing up his side and across his bared chest as blue eyes became entranced by the lovely and pale expanse of his bared and shivering body. And then-

“Mr. Kirkland?” Alfred asked.

Arthur snapped out of it, resisting the urge to check if he'd been drooling. He raised his eyebrows. “Pardon? I was lost in thought,” he said. Lost in the gutter, more like.

Alfred smiled indulgently and Arthur marveled at his patience. “I think I'm gonna have to redo some of your wall, so unless you have tiles left over from when you did it...”

“Oh, I might, actually,” Arthur murmured, mind turning to all the boxes he'd stored in his attic. He'd redone his shower recently, within a couple of years, and he probably had the extra tiles somewhere up there.

“Follow me?” he asked the American, “I might need a little help.” I might want to make you do something to show off your amazing arse.

“Sure,” Alfred chirped and followed Arthur into the hallway where a small string hung from the ceiling. He stopped and pointed at it.

“That leads to the attic, which is likely where they are,” he explained, then waited in excitement as Alfred stepped up to the task of pulling down the small staircase that was hidden within the ceiling.

The American stretched himself up, barely able to reach the string himself without something to give him more height. Arthur was less concerned with his ability to reach the string, however, and much more interested (riveted, really) at the truly amazing thing the American's pants did when Alfred's body was stretched out to its fullest, hands unconcerned with keeping his loose jeans planted firmly on his hips. They slid down, the stretch beginning what the heavy tool belt happily took over, tugging the hem of his jeans down until Arthur could tell, without a doubt, that the American was not wearing anything underneath.

His hips bones were in stark relief against the slim, muscled plain of his lower abdomen, his shirt rising just high enough to catch a glimpse of the man's navel. The jeans sagged even lower when Alfred jumped just slightly to try and grab at the string and Arthur's eyes went half mast when the trail of hair leading to his sex came into view, enticing the eye to follow it into the shadows that surely hid a powerful set of thighs that framed a gorgeously sized and wonderfully full co-

“Alright!” Alfred cheered as he finally managed to get his fingers around the string and tug, bringing the staircase carefully down and, sadly, ending his stretch so that his shirt fell back down around the wonderful sight that Arthur had been so thoroughly enjoying.

Fuck. He needed to get to his computer. He hoped these damn tiles weren't hard to find.

Arthur smiled at the clearly happy American as he stood proudly before the fully descended staircase and led the way into the attic, eyes roving around the various stacks of boxes as he tried to remember where he might have put them. His eyes found a box with 'tiles' written across the top and gave himself a mental pat on the back at his organizational and labeling skills. He dragged the box over to where Alfred had popped his head up and opened it up, happy to find what they'd been looking for.

“How many do you think you'll need?” Arthur asked, tipping the box slightly (very slightly, the damn things were heavy) so that Alfred could peer inside. The American frowned.

“How heavy is it?” he asked instead, taking the box from Arthur's hands and lifting it experimentally. Arthur's eyes trailed down to the muscles visible just beneath the sleeves of his shirt and took a deep breath to keep from biting his lip at the sight.

“Not that heavy,” Alfred concluded. “I'll just take the whole box, we can put back what I don't use, yeah?” he asked, smiling as he backed down the stairs carefully.

“Sure,” Arthur echoed, following him down and back to his beautiful broken shower.

“I think that's all I need,” Alfred said after setting the box down. “If you got stuff to do, you don't have to stick around.”

Arthur gave a terse nod and practically ran to where he'd set his computer up in the neighboring room, his bedroom, to be exact, and opened up his previous document. His fingers started typing rapidly, trying to keep up with his mind as it dove into images and fantasies of Alfred working on his shower. The broken shower-head was pretty high up, high enough that Arthur had actually had to bring in a stool so that he could get enough leverage to break it, and he could just imagine Alfred reaching up with that lean figure of his, with those damn, beautiful jeans that were much too loose to be appropriate work attire, repairman or not, and the wonderful view he would be afforded as he stretched once more.

And as he turned to work on his project, the American would surely turn his backside toward the doorway, allowing anyone standing in the hallway a gorgeous view of his backside, the line of his spine descending gracefully into the lowered hem of his jeans, framed on either side by those adorably sexy indents Arthur just knew the American would have on either side of his lower back. Those would, in turn, lead the eye to the rounded skin that was the beginning of Alfred's firm backside, clad in denim but nonetheless shapely as his powerful legs kept him steady as he worked.

Arthur stuck his tongue out slightly in concentration, the click of his keyboard a harmonizing melody to the pounding in the next room.

x o x

After a couple of hours, Alfred had fixed his shower and Arthur had gotten a solid chunk of writing done that he was actually satisfied with. As Arthur finished up the few paragraphs left in his current chapter, he heard the sounds of Alfred tinkering around with things next door. After a while, he heard a victorious yell, followed by the sound of water and a surprised shriek. Arther frowned and closed his laptop before darting out into the hall and looking in through the doorway at his repairman.

His heart almost short circuited, and he was fairly sure his brain shut down for a good five seconds, when he saw what exactly had made Alfred shriek.

The man was standing in the shower that he had been working on for the better part of the afternoon, and by the looks of things, he'd succeeded in fixing it. While the shower wasn't running currently, it was clear that he had tested it to make sure he'd done everything properly and it was also quite clear that he hadn't thought to step out of the shower before doing so.

Alfred was now dripping wet, water trailing in rivulets down his face as he turned to look at his employer. His glasses had droplets on their lenses and he was squinting through them as a result. His shirt had taken the brunt of it and clung to him like a second skin, making the muscles of his chest stand out in sharp lines of dark grey and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. His jeans were still low on his hips, sagging with the weight of the tool belt and clinging to his hips as water slowly soaked the thick fabric as it ran down his chest.

The man was a fucking wet dream. Oh yeah. Word. Smith.

“Haha,” the American laughed, holding out his arms in an 'oops, I guess I did something silly, but I'm so cute you'll probably forgive me' sort of gesture. “I guess I wasn't thinking.”

There was a pause.

Arthur let an appreciative smile spread slowly across his face. “You should probably take those wet things off, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold.”

“You're right,” Alfred said, glancing at himself. Then he quickly tugged his shirt over his head, shaking his head as it broke free of the neckline so that his hair splattered droplets of water everywhere. The American grinned, threw the shirt into the bottom of the shower and Arthur felt heat beginning to pool rapidly in his cock as Alfred proceeded to take off his tool belt, dropping that more carefully to the floor.

The American glanced up. “Uh, could you...turn around or something?”

Arthur smirked. “No.”

“Oh,” Alfred said, confused. When Arthur moved further into the room, the implication seemed to dawn on him. “Oh.

“Yeah,” Arthur whispered, hands going to Alfred's jeans in an attempt to hurry things along, fingers grasping at the wet fabric as he popped the button and slowly pulled down the zipper, mindful of the fact that Alfred wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Arthur's lips found Alfred's neck and he made slow work of tasting every inch of skin his tongue could reach, taking the lobe of an ear into his mouth and sucking as he felt Alfred's breathing shutter out in a shaky exhale. Those strong hands came up to rest gently on Arthur's hips and the Englishman rewarded Alfred with a slow lick up the underside of his jaw.

“Ah,” the American whispered as Arthur finally freed the wet denim from the man's hips, pushing it down with stubborn tugs as it stuck to equally damp skin. When they were down far enough, Arthur took hold of the American's cock and gave it a firm stroke, noting with a small hum of pleasure that the man was already half hard.

“Mr. Kirkland,” Alfred stuttered out, fingers tightening on Arthur's hips. “P-please...”

“Call me Arthur,” the Englishman murmured against the American's cheek, pressing his nose into the skin for a long moment, waiting.

“Ar-Arthur,” Alfred managed and Arthur rewarded him with an abrupt kiss, hand leaving Alfred's cock entirely so that he could pull the man's hips firmly against his. The resulting gasp gave Arthur the opportunity to deepen the kiss, and he thrust his tongue into Alfred's mouth, exploring anything he could touch, smooth teeth, the ridges on the roof of his mouth, before taking Alfred's tongue into his own mouth and sucking lightly. They broke apart and Arthur breathed heavily against Alfred's kiss-swollen lips as he ground his own hardening erection into his repairman.

“I believe payment is in order,” Arthur said, opening his eyes and smirking up into Alfred's confused face. It seemed the American was rapidly loosing the ability to make sense of anything Arthur said, which stroked more than the Englishman's ego. He closed his eyes and made his next thrust long and drawn out.

Alfred moaned, breath coming in pants. “I, uh, haven't cal-cal-culated your ex-e-expendituresholygod,” Alfred whined, head leaning back as Arthur let his hand sneak down to grab at the American's arse. “Yet,” Alfred finished.

“That's quite all right,” Arthur said smoothly. “This is just a bonus,” he whispered, before giving Alfred's lips one last kiss and dropping down to his knees.

“Oh shit,” Alfred said, moving his hands to rest on top of Arthur's head, shaking slightly in what Arthur was sure was anticipation.

Arthur took a moment to enjoy the sight of Alfred's cock, hard, flushed with excitement and already leaking as he let a warm breath wash over the head. He bent down to run his tongue from base to tip, swiping his tongue across the slit to wash it of any precum before he took just the head into his mouth. He sucked lightly as his hands trailed up Alfred's thighs, one dipping in between his legs to rub at his perineum before cupping his fingers around the smooth skin of his balls, rolling them as his mouth descended further, his tongue stroked harder.

Arthur felt fingers tighten in his hair and hummed around Alfred's cock, enjoying the tug as Alfred slowly lost control. He could hear the man gasping for air and panting Arthur's name, and the Englishman let his tongue flick across the head of Alfred's cock as he backed off almost completely, laying open-mouthed kisses and heated licks along the length just to hear the heavy sigh fall from those gorgeous lips, to hear that frustrated huff.

“God, Arthur,” Alfred panted. “Please, just-just-”

Arthur trailed his tongue back up to the tip, payed particular attention to the slit for a few long moments before he opened his mouth and took as much of Alfred's cock as he could, tongue working furiously, cheeks hollowing as he sucked Alfred off. His hand came up to stroke what he couldn't fit in his mouth, meeting his lips as he worked both in tandem. Alfred began to lose himself to the sensations and Arthur could feel him beginning to thrust his hips forward as he neared his peak.

It didn't take long after that and Alfred's fingers were pulling almost painfully on his hair and Arthur's mouth was filled with the bitter taste of Alfred's release. He swallowed as much as he could, continuing to suck until he felt Alfred grow soft in his mouth. He let Alfred slide slowly from his mouth and panted himself, catching his breath as Alfred bent down to look him in the eyes.

“That was amazing,” Alfred said, and Arthur enjoyed that sated, happy look that was spread softly across the American's face. He wanted to wake up to that look every morning, perhaps frame the image of it and bottle up the way it made him all fluttery and warm inside, place it on his shelf to admire because it was such a nice feeling that he never wanted to lose it. Those blue, blue eyes looking at him like he was the only thing in the world, those fingers trailing across his cheek, gently gathering the spend he hadn't managed to swallow on his fingers before licking it clean himself. Arthur felt his own cock twitch at the sight and closed his eyes as Alfred's hand returned to the Englishman's cheek, running his calloused palm across it slowly before slapping it gently. Twice.

Arthur frowned and the next slap was a little harder, startling him into opening his eyes.

What greeted him was not exactly what he'd been expecting. The American hovering above him was clearly worried, which Arthur both resented and appreciated, despite the difficulty of sorting through that particular contradiction. But rather than being completely naked, as Arthur's memory clearly told him he should be after receiving an amazing blow job from Arthur himself, the man was fully clothed, which meant...

Oh god. Had he-?

“Oh thank god,” Alfred said, a look of relief flitting across his face as he smiled slightly. “You spaced out there for a while and then you just dropped. Are you okay?”

It wasn't-? That hadn't actually-? That was a fantasy? His bloody, fucking imagination!?

“Seriously,” Alfred continued, unaware of Arthur's inner turmoil (and turmoil was putting it lightly, it was more like an internal meltdown, he was so fucking embarrassed). “You said, 'Call me Arthur' and then FOOM, down you went. And then you said something about a bonus, but I didn't really catch that.”

And he'd fainted. He'd lost consciousness because of a fantasy.

“Sorry I didn't catch you,” Alfred finished. “It happened kinda fast.”

Arthur's face was about to explode, he was sure, if only from the mere ferocity of his blush. His embarrassment was like a physical thing right now, sitting beside him and poking him in the face, as if to point out how much of a complete loser he was. He had- oh god, he didn't even want to say it in his sad, pathetic excuse for a brain. He'd molested the repairman in his head, seduced him and sucked the man off in an incredibly dominating way and he didn't even fucking know how to give a blow job!

If ever there was a time for the ground to open up and swallow him into the deep, fiery pits of hell that he was surely destined for after that last novel he'd written, now would be that time.

“Hey, say something,” Alfred said. “You're freaking me out.”

Arthur took a moment to collect his scattered thoughts - blow jobs were fucking sexy, molestation less so, good thing he'd chosen hardwood flooring over tiles, repairmen should come with a warning, he needed a cold shower - and cleared his throat before addressing Alfred.

“Apologies,” Arthur murmured, and he was incredibly pleased that he'd managed to make it sound halfway normal. He stood gingerly, giving a nod of thanks to the American as he offered support but unwilling to lean too heavily against that warm, inviting body, lest Alfred notice that Arthur was painfully hard from his little detour into fantasy land. “I've been working all afternoon on my computer, I think I-”

“Writing porn?” Alfred asked with a smile and a perky tone to his voice.

Arthur almost fell again. Would have if Alfred hadn't been so close. The man was bad for his health.

“I was working on my newest novel,” Arthur responded, avoiding the topic of smut without lying. Alfred didn't seem to mind the diversion. Either that or it had flown completely over his head.

“What's it about?” he asked, going to pick up his supplies. The man was oblivious to social protocol and Arthur was completely and entirely sure that it would, eventually, be the death of him.

Instead of answering, Arthur let his eyes trail over Alfred's clothes, wet and clinging to his body, making small puddles wherever he went in the small room. At least that part hadn't been his imagination. “You're wet,” he said, changing the topic entirely.

“Oh,” the American murmured, then raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “I forgot to get out of the way when the shower turned on.”

“You're making a mess,” Arthur said primly, though what he actually meant by that was you're distracting the hell out of me, I can practically fucking see your six pack, and you need to stop it. “Get out of those clothes and I'll try and find you something that will fit.

“Oh, you don't have to-”

“You're not tromping around my house in wet clothes,” Arthur argued, leaving the room so as to avoid another incident should Alfred suddenly see fit to take Arthur's advice and start shedding clothing.

Arthur was sure that he had something around here that would fit the American. His assistant sometimes stayed over on weekends if they had a deadline to meet or if Arthur needed to be bullied into being productive, and he was about the same size as Alfred. Arthur headed into the spare bedroom and opened the closet, seeing a couple sweatshirts and a pair of jeans; he would just have to apologize to Matthew and offer him a new set. He wouldn't be around for another couple weeks anyway, Arthur would have plenty of time to replace them.

He took the clothes and headed back to where his repairman waited, completely forgetting that he'd asked the man to strip, and knocked twice before swinging the door open. “I think these should-”

“Ah!” Alfred yelled, darting behind the shower curtain quickly.

Quick thinker, that man. Problem was, the curtain was sheer.

Arthur managed an, “Oh fuck,” before he went down again.

I've decided to post one chapter a day, which should take us to Thursday the 23rd. Christmas Eve will be a day off, and then on Christmas Day I'll post a new bit of writing I've done for this universe. How does that sound?


( 21 comments — Leave a comment )
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 21st, 2010 08:08 pm (UTC)
Thank you! The end of this chapter was particularly fun to write.

Dec. 21st, 2010 01:02 am (UTC)
I'll post a new bit of writing I've done for this universe

a new bit of writing I've done

a new bit of writing


Dec. 21st, 2010 02:17 am (UTC)
Dec. 21st, 2010 04:51 am (UTC)
Dec. 21st, 2010 08:11 pm (UTC)
Holy god, it's like you read my mind.
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 21st, 2010 08:13 pm (UTC)
Arthur is a sly devil. When he's not collapsed on the floor with blood dripping steadily out of his nose. OTL
Dec. 21st, 2010 01:31 am (UTC)
Oh fuck is right, Arthur. Poor guy, I'd be in the same position;;;;

And you know what, an upload a day doesn't sound too bad for me! xDD My icon approves of it, as well, just so you know.
Dec. 21st, 2010 08:18 pm (UTC)
Haha, I approve of your icon.
Dec. 21st, 2010 01:33 am (UTC)
A NEW bit, OMG. I absolutely approve of your posting schedule, if else, to have a daily bit of Arthur's glorious imagination 8D

Dec. 21st, 2010 08:20 pm (UTC)
♥ ♥ ♥ :3
Dec. 21st, 2010 03:43 am (UTC)
Ha ha, this is my first time seeing this fic fill and I am laughing my arse off so hard at all of these awesome, romantic antics. Oh poor Arthur, writing blocks suck. But you keep fainting like that and the hot repair guy is gonna end up driving you to the hospital instead. Where there will be nothing to break. D':
Dec. 21st, 2010 08:20 pm (UTC)
I wouldn't put it past Arthur to break something in the hospital and call the repair shop to come fix it while he lounged in bed. XD
Dec. 21st, 2010 04:48 am (UTC)

Dec. 21st, 2010 08:21 pm (UTC)

I'm glad. ♥
Dec. 21st, 2010 04:48 am (UTC)
Oh hon hon hon~. Day. Is. MADE. And it looks like every day this week will be made. That is some fine scheduling.

As soon as Arthur said 'no,' my first thought was, "This is his chapter isn't it?" But I was wrong...kinda. You're just...God, you're good at what you do. Keep it up. Do what England's doing, go pro. Not like you already aren't a pro, but...gah, you get it.

Also, ALL of this is just WIN.

And that was actually pretty much a true statement. If you took out 'I was cleaning the tiles and I slipped off the stool I was standing on' and 'so I wouldn't fall,' it was a completely accurate description of what had happened.
Dec. 21st, 2010 08:23 pm (UTC)
Haha, I tricked you. ♥ Luckily, Arthur's imagination is hot enough to make up for it. XD
Dec. 21st, 2010 05:13 am (UTC)
Oh fuck. /brb wiping blood off my nose

Seriously, I know Alfred is sexy but the way you describe him makes him look delicious and beyond sexy and just ngggggh. I can totally understand why he's Arthur's porn muse. And that blowjob part was hot.

Nggggh I approve of your posting schedule. Can't wait for more of this awesome :">
Dec. 21st, 2010 08:23 pm (UTC)
Thanks! ♥
Apr. 18th, 2011 03:56 pm (UTC)
I thought...I really did.damn I wasn't expecting it to be his imagination.Arthur you perv you.

Well,You can't blame the guy.Who wouldn't be like that with Alfred (I imagined Alfred to be the same...only in a decent way though...unlike Arthur's)

AWESOME FIC ONCE AGAIN (sorry if my grammar sucks)
May. 26th, 2011 02:43 am (UTC)
OMG I was going to read it complete before commenting but OMG i just couldn't wait!!! I have to tell you that this is soooooooo great!!!!! this was so F***ing great!!!! love it!!! you are AWESOME!!! XD
ok now to keep reading!!!!
Jan. 17th, 2012 06:42 am (UTC)
all of this
This fanfic is probably one of my favorites
( 21 comments — Leave a comment )