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afjakwritesarchive · 6 years

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Title: Wild Eyes Pairing: USUK Words: 5,773 AU: Human Genre: Romance(?)/Drama Story summary: A rich and obsessive Alfred will do whatever it takes to make his best friend, Arthur, his. A/N: This fantastic idea was created by @orenjineki, who commissioned me for this piece! I had so much fun with it and I thank them with all my heart for the opportunity to write this! I didn’t realize how much I’d end up liking creepy Alfred!!

Arthur was hunched over his computer desk, one hand in his hair and the other wrapped tightly around a ball-point pen, when Alfred entered his apartment. Arthur hardly looked up from his place; he’d gotten used to Alfred coming and going whenever he pleased. They’d been best friends for several years now, and Arthur was more than comfortable enough with the man to have given him a key. Alfred, who Arthur knew to be a bit clingy at times, had delighted in this and frequently took advantage of the opportunity to see Arthur whenever he wanted. Although Alfred found himself at work quite often due to the demanding nature of his job as the CEO of a successful computer programming company, whatever time he had left over was often spent with Arthur.

The Brit thought nothing of it, really, even though Alfred hadn’t always behaved in such a way. When they’d first met and become friends, Alfred had seemed much more casual; but as time wore on, Arthur had noticed Alfred growing increasingly determined to spend as much time with Arthur as he could. Still, Arthur figured this was normal; Alfred had many friends, yes, but few very close ones, and fewer still that he hadn’t met through business ventures. Thus, Arthur reasoned that Alfred simply liked the idea that he had a friend who was his for entirely personal reasons, and had taken so well to it as a result.

Arthur too was glad to have Alfred for a friend. Not only was he kind, intelligent, and fun (if not far too obnoxious and arrogant at times), but he was also an incredibly generous man. Alfred had made his first million at the tender age of twenty-three, and his profit had only increased since then. He was twenty-eight now and a multimillionaire who seemed intent on giving back to whoever needed it. Not only did Jones Enterprises have a reputation for being incredibly charitable, but Alfred himself was more than happy to provide whatever he could to those that he cared about.

Thus, Arthur had never found it strange that their frequent meetings often began with Alfred bearing some type of gift to Arthur. Sometimes the gifts were small, such as some snacks or a cup of tea; others, when Alfred knew Arthur was struggling a bit more than he let on, it was a check for three month’s rent. Although such incredible generosity was certainly rare, Arthur had chalked it up to Alfred having an incredibly kind heart and always accepted what was offered to him by the younger man.

“Hey, Artie,” Alfred greeted, setting a steaming cup of tea with the logo of Arthur’s favorite cafe in town emblazoned on the side down on the man’s desk, “whatcha up to?”

Alfred peered down at the paperwork Arthur was currently scowling at and the elder man felt his pale cheeks flush. He quickly moved to shove the paperwork--records of the debt he had yet to pay off in student loans, among other things -- away, but Alfred reached out and took the paperwork in a strong, tan hand before Arthur could hide it.

“I-It’s nothing, Alfred, really,” Arthur said quickly, scrambling up from his seat and reaching out for the paperwork once more. He knew Alfred knew that he was facing some financial trouble, but he’d been careful to hide the extent of it from the American.

Alfred, who was almost a foot taller than Arthur, simply raised the paper up past the Brit’s reach and continued to read. As his eyes flitted rapidly across the paper, his thin brows furrowed and his usually warm blue eyes narrowed, becoming cold. His jaw was set, his teeth gritted, and it was clear that he was upset by the numbers he saw on the paper.

“Arthur,” Alfred started, his voice low. He dropped his arm to his side, still gripping the papers tightly in his hand.

Arthur huffed, reaching out and snatching the papers from his best friend’s strong hands with a glare. “You shouldn’t take things that aren’t yours, you arse. This is a personal matter and it doesn’t concern you.”

For some reason, Alfred’s eyes went wide at this and he whipped around, facing the Brit with anger clear upon his face. “Doesn’t concern me?” He echoed, voice raised and full of anger. “Like hell it doesn’t concern me! You’re mine--” Alfred cut himself off then, backpedaling. “I mean, you’re my best friend. You shouldn’t hide things like this from me, especially when I can help you.”

Arthur’s green eyes widened, surprised to see Alfred so incensed by such a thing. It was as though Alfred saw himself as being responsible for Arthur, although it was entirely untrue. Briefly, Arthur got the sense that Alfred was far too affected by such a thing to be considered a normal reaction from a friend, but he pushed it aside. Alfred had always had a bigger heart than most and he’d always seemed to take matters regarding Arthur more seriously.

“I don’t want to ask you for help every time I need money, especially not this much.” Arthur retorted, annoyed. “I can handle it on my own.”

Alfred’s hands had formed fists at his sides. “But you don’t have to,” he said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his anger in check. “I’ll help you.”

What Alfred wanted to say was that he would always help Arthur, always. That he would pay for anything and everything the Brit needed, that he would take care of him for as long as he lived because that was his responsibility. Arthur didn’t know it yet, no, but he belonged to Alfred. He was Alfred’s to take care of, Alfred’s to pamper, Alfred’s to own. Arthur and those sweet green eyes of his and his gorgeous slim frame and his smart mouth just begging to be conquered by Alfred. Alfred wanted to take Arthur into his arms and cart him off to his penthouse suite and never let him leave again, but Arthur needed time. First, Alfred had to make him see that he needed him, that he could never be complete until he gave into Alfred completely.

“No! I can’t ask you to do that, Alfred, and you know it. What am I going to do, waltz into the bank with a check for some several-hundred-thousand-odd dollars and expect them to accept it without a word? No, this is too much. Even for you.” Arthur said with a heavy sigh, taking the papers and shoving them underneath a folder on his desk.

Alfred paused momentarily, taking Arthur’s words into consideration. He was right about one thing: it would be too suspicious for Arthur to suddenly have the money required to pay off all of his debts. But, as usual, Arthur was wrong about something else: the lengths at which Alfred would go to ensure his happiness. Nothing was too much for Alfred when it came to Arthur.

Thus, Alfred’s blue eyes lit up as a brilliant plan began to form in his mind. “No, you’re right, it’s too suspicious,” he agreed with a sage nod of his head. “But I can still help. Marry me, Arthur. Then no one would have any right to question you.”

Alfred couldn’t help but to be even further endeared to Arthur when the Brit’s mouth fell open in shock and he began to stutter, flabbergasted. His pale, freckled cheeks went a brilliant shade of red and he blathered on idiotically without making any real sense, chastising Alfred for making such a ridiculous joke.

Alfred could only smirk and take another step forward, slipping an arm across Arthur’s shoulders and tugging the man closer. “I’m not joking. Say the words and we’ll go down to the courthouse first thing tomorrow.”

“A-Alfred, you can’t be serious! We can’t get married, you idiot! We’re not even together! I can’t ask you to do this for me! It’s too much money, I have to figure it out on my own!” Arthur cried, starting to pull away from the American.

Alfred tightened his grip on the man and looked down at him, shaking his head and smiling condescendingly. “Sweetheart, that’s where you’re wrong. You can ask me to do it, and I’m telling you I’d be happy to. Just say the words and I’ll make all this disappear. You’ll never have to worry about money again, Arthur. You can quit your shitty job at that fucking grocery store and write full time. You can move out of this shithole, too. I’ll even make one of my empty rooms your personal study,” said Alfred cheekily.

Arthur’s thick brows were drawn downward, seeming troubled by Alfred’s offer. The American offered such things to him like they were nothing. To Alfred, money was no object; but for Arthur, money was the solution to most of his problems. Alfred’s offer was tempting to say the least, but Arthur couldn’t help wondering why exactly the American was extending such extraordinary kindness to him.

“I don’t understand,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “We’re not even together, Alfred. You don’t have to do this.”

Again, Alfred resisted the urge to inform the Brit that he did, in fact, have to do it. He had to do it because he had to make sure Arthur was beside him at all times, had to make sure that he was safe and free so that he could devote his time to Alfred.

“I want to,” is what Alfred said instead. “Why would I let my best friend struggle when I know I have the means to fix it? Besides, I’d be a pretty shitty hero if I didn’t try to save people.”

Arthur paused momentarily, heart beating madly in his chest. He turned toward his desk, pulling the paper out from where it had been stowed. He glanced at the number at the bottom of the page and his mind reeled. His heart sunk at the sight of his debt, knowing very well that it would chain him down for the rest of his life if he things continued as they were now.

Arthur took a deep breath in, thinking intently as he stared at the number on the page. Would it be so terrible to accept Alfred’s offer? What his best friend described didn’t sound too terrible; hell, it sounded downright wonderful. Not only would Arthur get to leave the hellish job he’d taken up in order to pay off his steadily mounting job, but he’d get to pursue the writing career he’d always wanted. He’d even get to live in the lap of luxury as he did so! It was a prospect far too enticing to resist, even for a prideful man like Arthur.

Thus, he turned his face upward toward Alfred’s and sucked in a breath. “It would be nice to relax a bit and focus on my writing…” He said softly.

Alfred nodded his agreement. “Totally! Dude, imagine all the free time you’ll have for your novel without that shitty job of yours. You’ll have a bestseller on the shelves before you’re thirty-five! Y’know, I actually know a couple of guys over at Honda Publishing Company… Betcha I could pull some strings there for you once you get a rough draft done.”

Alfred slipped his hands up to Arthur’s shoulders and gently eased the elder man to sit down. Arthur blinked rapidly, not having noticed that Alfred had been gradually pulling him in the direction of his well-worn sofa. Then, Alfred sat down beside him and slid an arm across Arthur’s shoulders. He leaned into Arthur with his eyes set upon Arthur’s face in an intent stare.

Arthur’s heart stuttered. Usually Alfred’s eyes seemed bright and full of warmth, but now they stared at Arthur with a predatory glint in them. Alfred’s eyes were full of what Arthur could only describe as an aggressive hunger, a sight which troubled the elder man slightly. But then Arthur reminded himself of the money he was about to come into and of the kindness of the man who was providing it to him and thought himself ridiculous. Alfred clearly had no ill intent for him. If he did, why would he be so supportive?

“So,” Alfred said, looming over Arthur, “you haven’t exactly given me an answer yet, but I’m assuming this all means yes.”

Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat. An odd sensation of dread was beginning to pool at the pit of his stomach. Even so, he quickly nodded his agreement. “Yes, Alfred, I’ll marry you. Thank you.”

Alfred’s plump lips parted in an even wider grin than Arthur was used to. “Then I’ll pick you up at 8AM tomorrow and we’ll go to the courthouse.” Alfred decided immediately. Without waiting for any sort of agreement from Arthur, he leaned further in until the tip of his nose was only centimeters from Arthur’s. “Can I come clean about something, though? I’m not just happy about this because I get to help you out.”

Green eyes flickered across Alfred’s face, eyeing the dark shadows cast across it. Arthur had a feeling he knew what Alfred was about to say, and he knew what he had to do. Alfred had always shown Arthur incredible kindness; the least he could do was try to return it. Besides, Alfred was an admittedly attractive man -- there were definitely worse options than a gorgeous millionaire with a heart of gold.

Thus, Arthur raised one of his pale palms to Alfred’s cheek and smiled gently up at him. “Alfred, if you want to be more than friends all you have to do is ask,” he murmured, parting his lips slightly as he finished in an invitation.

Without hesitation, Alfred closed in the last of the space between them and pressed into Arthur, immediately taking ownership of the man’s lips. He kissed Arthur ferociously, strong arms encircling Arthur’s waist and then tightening until their chests were pressed together.

Arthur’s eyes went wide, surprised by the enthusiasm Alfred displayed. He supposed it made sense -- after all, Alfred Jones was nothing if not passionate -- but he couldn’t help but to get the feeling that Alfred was a bit too eager. Yes, he was kissing Arthur and yes, it was obvious that the man desired his best friend, but there was an element of detachment that Arthur couldn’t seem to place. It was almost as if Alfred was more concerned with taking his fill of Arthur and of getting to “stake a claim” to him than he was with making sure Arthur was enjoying the kiss.

Still, Arthur decided to chalk his best friend’s frenzied kisses up to excitement, and allowed his eyes to close. He focused in on Alfred and kissed him back, attempting to match the man’s pace. Alfred seemed to take well to this and gave Arthur a playful squeeze before tugging the man directly into his lap, positioning Arthur to straddle him. Alfred’s hands then began to roam across Arthur’s body slowly and tenderly, his kisses becoming less frenzied and much deeper as he did so.

This affirmed Arthur’s previous assumption that Alfred had simply been too excited at first and, pleasured by the attention he was receiving, he rocked his hips slightly. He leaned further into Alfred and mimicked the man’s actions, allowing his hands to feel their way down Alfred’s chest. Alfred grinned against Arthur’s lips and brought a hand down to the front of Arthur’s slacks, expertly undoing his belt buckle. Based on the way things were currently going, it didn’t surprise Arthur all too much; clearly Alfred was rather experienced in the bedroom.

Arthur quickly lost himself to pleasure, dissolving beneath Alfred’s capable hands. All thoughts of his best friend’s excessively generous offer and the odd feeling of dread Arthur had felt only moments before slipped away, lost to white-hot bliss.

Arthur woke the following pressed tightly against Alfred. They lay side-by-side on Arthur’s couch, Alfred’s arm draped over the Brit. Arthur glanced over to the clock on the opposite wall, noting that they’d slept in far past 8AM, although he didn’t mind. He let out a pleasured sigh and smiled at the memory of the night before as he twisted in Alfred’s embrace to face the man.

“Alfred,” Arthur purred gently, laying his hand atop the American’s cheek.

Alfred stirred slowly, blinking blearily. At the sight of the man across from him his eyes went wide and he seemed surprised for a moment before a sly smile slipped onto his face. “G’morning,” he purred, tightening the arm he had wrapped around Arthur to draw the man closer.

“Good morning,” Arthur greeted in return, “did you sleep alright?”

When Alfred nodded his head in response, some of his gorgeous golden blond hair fall into his face. “Never better.”

Arthur smiled sweetly at that, pleased to know that the previous night had been as pleasurable for Alfred as it had been for him. “Good.”

Alfred glanced up at the clock and then looked back down to Arthur, grinning. “Looks like we’re getting a late start today,” he said cheekily. “Whaddya say we wait a few hours, get some lunch at that little cafe down the street and then go up to the courthouse?”

Arthur was about to nod his head in agreement when a realization suddenly struck him. “Shit,” he hissed, “I can’t. I’ve got to meet Francis for lunch today.”

“What?” Alfred asked, his happy smile morphing into one of his signature puppy-dog pouts. “Why can’t you cancel? The sooner we do this the better.”

“Alfred, I told him I would be there and I don’t intend to cancel. We can still go the courthouse today if we go soon, but I can’t have lunch. Why not tomorrow?”

Instead of being appeased by this like Alfred normally was, the American’s mood only seemed to sour further. “Fine,” he said, his voice strangely strained, “but I want to go and get rings too.”

Arthur blinked rapidly. “What? Why?”

Because Francis doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself and I don’t want him to touch what’s mine, is what Alfred wanted to say then. Instead, he forced a smile to his face and replied with, “‘cause it’ll raise some eyebrows if we get married and don’t even have rings to prove it, don’t you think?”

Arthur sensed that there was more to it and once again that odd sinking feeling settled at the pit of his stomach, but he dismissed it as he had yesterday. Alfred did have a point, after all. Thus, he nodded his head in agreement. “Alright, we’ll get some rings today, but we’ll have to be done by one. I don’t want to raincheck with Francis again.”

Arthur slipped off the couch then, turning away from Alfred. Alfred turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, crossing his arms over his chest. He could hardly believe that Arthur was rushing such an important event in their life all for a lunch date with another man. It was ridiculous, but Alfred didn’t want to start a fight -- at least not until they’d already gotten married. After Arthur had a ring on his finger, then Alfred would make the rules clear.

“Can you be ready in half an hour?” Arthur asked as he scooped his clothes-- rapidly discarded and scattered along the floor--up and bundled them up.

He turned to look over his shoulder at the American, noting that he was sulking, and sighed. Arthur did feel a bit bad, really. Alfred was doing him a rather large favor, after all--perhaps he should try a bit harder to appease the man.

“Maybe we can celebrate after I get back from lunch, though? I could come over and cook for you…?” Arthur suggested, smiling tentatively at the American.

Alfred looked as though he was trying hard to continue pouting, but he quickly turned on his side and grinned at the man. “I can never stay mad at you, babe,” he chirped. “I’ll send a car out for you at six tonight and we’ll have dinner in--but I’ll do the cooking.”

Arthur’s face went red with embarrassment and he tossed his slacks from the night before toward Alfred’s face. “My cooking is not that bad, git! You’ll have to get used to it if you want me to move in with you, y’know.”

“Nah, babe, no way. I like you, but not quite enough to stomach your cooking,” Alfred teased. “Now go get cleaned up. I don’t wanna be late,” he commanded.

“Bossy arse,” Arthur teased loudly as he made his way to the bathroom.

“What was that?!” Alfred cried, leaping off the couch and advancing quickly on the Brit.

Arthur let out a sharp cry that quickly morphed into loud laughter as Alfred easily lifted him off the ground and hoisted him over his shoulder, carting him to the bathroom. He was set down in the shower and Alfred clambered in after him, turning the water on. Freezing water shot from the showerhead and the pair let out cries of surprise. Arthur lunged forward and twisted the knob a few times before hot water began to rained down upon them.

“It’s temperamental,” he explained to Alfred, looking up at the man through his waterlogged bangs.

Alfred reached out, taking Arthur’s face in his strong hands. “The more I see of this place, the more excited I am to have you at my place.”

“You brag too much,” Arthur muttered with a grin still stuck on his face, leaning into Alfred.

“Mmm, yeah. But you don’t really mind.” Alfred agreed before leaning in to take Arthur’s lips.

That night, Arthur arrived at Alfred’s penthouse suite at 6:30 on the dot and was greeted with a passionate kiss from the American as he was tugged into his arms. Alfred ran a hand down the length of Arthur’s arm as he kissed him, his hand eventually settling at Arthur’s palm. He entwined their fingers and walked backward into his apartment with his other arm still wrapped firmly around the Brit’s waist.

Then, abruptly, Alfred pulled back and frowned. He raised Arthur’s hand up, scowling. “Why aren’t you wearing your ring?” He asked, brows furrowed and blue eyes darkened.

Arthur rolled his eyes and gave Alfred a small, reassuring smile. “I haven’t told Francis what happened. I figured he’d be rather shocked to see me with a wedding ring on my finger after having seen me fully single only last week.”

Alfred’s scowl only seemed to deepen as Arthur explained. “You’re not interested in him, are you?”

“What? That frog? Have you gone mad? Francis and I could be the last two people on Earth and I still wouldn’t sleep with him again.”

Alfred froze. “Again?” He hissed, his grip on Arthur’s waist tightening until his fingers were digging into Arthur’s skin through his shirt.

Arthur attempted to take a step back, but Alfred held him firmly in place. The Brit sighed, exasperated by Alfred’s reaction. “Alfred, it was a very long time ago and it meant nothing. We had far too much to drink in college and slept together. I wasn’t even twenty at the time!” He insisted.

“Is he still trying to make a move on you? Is that why he insisted on having lunch with you?” Alfred demanded, his voice a low growl.

Arthur huffed and forcefully pulled Alfred’s hand off of him, stepping away. “No! God, no, Alfred. He’s been a close friend of mine for years! He’s not trying anything, alright?”

“I really don’t like the thought of you and him alone together,” Alfred said with a scowl. “You shouldn’t see him anymore.”

Arthur’s head jerked up, shocked. “And who are you to demand something like that from me? We may be involved now, but that doesn’t mean you get to insert yourself in all of my affairs, alright?” He snapped.

Alfred looked at Arthur incredulously. God, he could be so frustrating! Alfred wanted to rip his hair out after hearing such harsh words from the Brit. How could Arthur not see that he was just looking out for him? Why was he so blind to the fact that he was far too perfect for his own good, that there were people in the world who would try and take him away? Why couldn’t he understand that it was Alfred’s responsibility to watch over him, that yes, he did get to insert himself into Arthur’s affairs! How else would he maintain his claim on the Brit? He had to make sure Arthur’s head didn’t get filled with ideas about leaving him.

Alfred knew there was no one better for Arthur than himself -- he just had to make Arthur realize that, too. Which meant that lines had to be drawn, rules had to be set. Arthur had to understand where he belonged now that they were married--at Alfred’s side, unconditionally. Alfred wouldn’t, couldn’t tolerate any other man attempting to take him away. Especially not a man that had taken Arthur in the past. They’d only try to lead him astray again.

“Like hell I don’t!” Alfred huffed. “We’re not involved, Arthur, we’re married! Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Christ, Alfred, it’s not like it was for love! You’re helping me get back on my feet financially!” Arthur huffed in return, green eyes alight with fire.

Alfred’s jaw dropped. “Then why the hell did you kiss me last night? I thought you cared about me!”

“I do! Last night was amazing, Alfred, and you’re my best friend. But you can’t really expect me to move straight from best friend to husband! There has to be an adjustment period!”

Alfred paused, taking a deep breath in. “Fine,” he exhaled. “I’m sorry, baby, I just--I mean, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

Arthur softened. “You can’t do that, though. You can’t expect me to just jump into this without any hesitation. I married you, yes, but I need time to adjust to this.”

“Would it help if I asked you to be with me exclusively?” Alfred asked, reaching out for the Brit’s hand.

Arthur watched Alfred’s hand gently take his without moving. An odd sense of panic was pooling within him as he watched Alfred place a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “I’m already your husband.”

“I know,” Alfred murmured, “but I might as well ask, since we did all of this kind of backwards. Be my boyfriend, Arthur?”

Arthur hesitated then, eyeing Alfred carefully. At first glance, there was nothing but sincerity swimming in the bright eyes he’d become so familiar with over the years. But the more he gazed into them, the more Arthur thought he saw something darker in them. Arthur couldn’t help but to get the feeling that Alfred saw him as more of a prize than a person, something to be conquered and controlled.

“Arthur?” Alfred asked.

Arthur shuddered. God, why did Alfred seem so cold all of a sudden? Something about his attitude toward Francis was beginning to put Arthur off. He’d been angry one second, possessive and jealous. And the next? Loving, asking for forgiveness, trying to appease Arthur. It was as if he’d lost control of himself for a moment and was trying to make up for it. But what was he holding back from Arthur? What did he keep hidden behind the mask of a lovestruck fool he was wearing?

“I…” Arthur paused, wide-eyed. Then, he twisted his hand out of Alfred’s grip and took another step back. “I-I don’t know.”

Alfred blinked, surprised. He stepped forward, advancing upon Arthur, and reached out for the man. Arthur shook his head rapidly and pushed his hands away.

“You don’t know? What isn’t there to know? I’m giving you everything you want, Arthur? Why can’t you give me this?”

Arthur stopped, thinking on Alfred’s words. Why couldn’t he? Why did it feel so wrong? Alfred made a good point--he was giving so much to Arthur, and it didn’t seem like he wanted very much in return. Just to love Arthur. That was all, wasn’t it?

No.

A sudden, cautious voice in the back of Arthur’s mind warned him. That isn’t all he wants. You know what he wants.

“You don’t want to be with me,” Arthur said then, wide-eyed.

Alfred frowned. “What? Of course I do! Arthur, baby, listen to yourself. Why else would I do all of this? I’ve wanted to be with you for so long I can hardly stand it. I know I act crazy sometimes, but that’s why! I’ve just wanted you for so long that sometimes I overreact, and I’m sorry, baby, I am. But you have to understand that I just want what’s best for you!”

“No!” Arthur shouted, growing angry. “You don’t want to be with me, damn it! You just want me! You want to control me!”

Alfred’s jaw dropped. “Arthur, are you hearing yourself?!”

“I’m hearing myself perfectly well, Alfred! It’s you who isn’t listening! You don’t get to own me just because you have money! You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot see!”

Alfred growled aloud and suddenly stormed forward, grabbing Arthur by the shoulders. “God, Arthur, I wish you would just understand. I don’t want to control you--I just want you to understand. I want to take care of you. I can take care of you, damn it. You just have to let me.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me, idiot! I can take care of myself perfectly well! If I’d known this is what I was walking into when I agreed to marriage, I would have never done it!”

“Oh, can you? Because the thousands and thousands of dollars of debt you’ve racked up say otherwise, Arthur. Weren’t you about to be evicted? Weren’t you working overtime and still struggling to make ends meet? Are you seriously telling me that was better than this?” Alfred asked, gesturing wildly toward his luxurious apartment. “Is it really so bad to have a rich man at your beck and call, huh?”

Arthur looked into Alfred’s face, eyes widened. The American looked every bit a wild animal in that moment, eyes gazing at him hungrily as he spoke in a frenzied tone. He looked as though he was coming apart at the seams, gripping Arthur tightly in one hand and waving his other about wildly.

“You’re not entitled to me, Alfred, even if you buy me whatever I want. I still get to tell you to fuck off!” Arthur shouted, shoving Alfred off of him once more and storming toward the door of the apartment.

“Oh? Even if it meant that you’d have to go back to your shitty apartment and your shitty job? If you walk out now, you’re fucked! You’ll end up broke on the street!”

Arthur stalled with his hand on the doorknob, his pale hand trembling. God, what was he going to do? Alfred was right--the debt was burying him no matter how hard he worked to dig himself out. He was so stressed he could hardly sleep, let alone write--the one thing he’d always dreamt of doing. Being able to live without worry would allow him to devote his time to his dreams. He wouldn’t have to struggle anymore. He could settle down, let someone else hold the reins. Besides, Alfred would buy him whatever he wanted. He’d never have to worry again.

Then, Alfred’s warm hands were snaking around his waist. “Baby, you know I hate to fight with you,” he murmured, his breath hot against Arthur’s ear. “‘S just that you drive me so crazy sometimes. I just want to do what’s best for you, Arthur. Are a couple simple rules really so bad?”

“Wh-What are the rules?” He asked, his voice weak and shaky.

“I just don’t want you let anyone else have you the way I do, alright? That’s all, Arthur. I just want you to be mine and mine alone.” Alfred purred, placing a gentle kiss to the Brit’s pale neck as he spoke.

“I-I…” Arthur bit down at his bottom lip, his grip on the doorknob loosening.

Alfred rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder. “Where’s your wedding ring, Arthur?” He asked, his voice cold.

Arthur felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “M-My pocket,” he murmured shakily.

One of Alfred’s arms fell from around Arthur’s waist, instead slipping into the pocket of his slacks. After a moment, Alfred’s hand emerged with the ring gripped tightly in his fist. “Do you still want it?” He asked.

Arthur’s trembling hand fell away from the doorknob entirely. It didn’t seem as though he had any other choice. He nodded his head slowly.

“Tell me you want it, Arthur.” Alfred commanded.

Arthur closed his eyes and exhaled unsteadily. “I-I want it.”

“Good.” Alfred said, turning Arthur around. He grinned as he slipped the wedding band back onto Arthur’s finger. Arthur stared down at it with a heavy heart. “See? It’s not so bad, belonging to someone like me. I just want to take care of you, Arthur. I’ll give you whatever you want. All you have to do in return is follow a few little rules.”

When Arthur didn’t respond, Alfred reached out and took the man’s chin in his hand, gently forcing Arthur’s head up. He met the Brit’s gaze, ignoring the sorrow clearly swimming in the green eyes he was so infatuated with. Arthur stared at him, unable to ignore the satisfaction in Alfred’s eyes.

“C’mon, honey, I went shopping today so I could cook for you. I even got you your favorite wine to celebrate.” Alfred purred, slipping an arm around Arthur’s waist and pulling him to the table.

As Alfred pulled a chair out for the Brit, Arthur looked around. This would be his new home soon--a gorgeous, glittering penthouse with all of its resources available to Arthur. And Alfred--he too would be available to Arthur. A gorgeous millionaire, fully dedicated to keeping him as happy as can be. He would never want for anything within these walls--at least, not anything money could buy. But there was something off about the pristine apartment, something that unnatural about the shining glory of it all.

Alfred leaned over Arthur, grinning down at the Brit. “Y’know I love you, right?”

It was a prison. A shining prison, built to keep Arthur trapped within. Equipped with everything he could want to keep him from being tempted by the outside world.

Arthur forced a smile onto his face and nodded slowly.

“I know.”

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