To Serve And Protect. [R18]

Arthur felt dizzy as he caught sight of Alfred’s red, weeping cock being stroked by another man’s hand. He could hear the men laughing and talking and a hand was slowly slipping down the front of his jeans while the other was sliding up underneath his shirt and plucking at his nipples. He groaned around the gag, throwing his head back against the man’s shoulder and trying desperately to breathe through his nose. This was wrong… this was so wrong. Alfred shouldn’t have been placed in a situation like this. Arthur didn’t care about himself; it wasn’t as he he’d never fucked before. But Alfred was a virgin, an innocent, whose lips hadn’t even been soiled until Arthur had unthinkingly stolen his first kiss.

“Ahh-fed!” he tried to shout around the gag. He could see his partner’s – his boyfriend’s – face, and Alfred looked… lost. His face was flushed and sweaty, his expression needy. That look on Alfred’s face turned Arthur on more than anything and he arched his back as the hand groping him finally decided to unzip his jeans.

“I’m taking him in next,” the man behind Alfred declared, pumping Alfred’s cock slowly. The man in front protested, but sullenly conceded when the issue of money came up.

“Wait,” the one stroking Arthur said. “I wanna see how good this one’s mouth is, but I don’t wanna get my dick bitten off. Make him suck the boy; he wouldn’t dare chew on his little boyfriend.” Arthur was suddenly forced to his knees and dragged towards Alfred, where he was unceremoniously dropped face-first into Alfred’s lap, his boyfriend’s weeping cock just inches from his face. Hands grabbed his hair and unbuckled the gag and Arthur was coughing and panting, drool running down his chin in copious amounts as he tried to draw in more air. His jeans were eased down and his hard cock was in full view.

“Suck,” someone ordered. Arthur twisted and arched his back to look up at Alfred, eyes wide. This wasn’t how their first sexual encounter was supposed to be. It was supposed to be full of affection and care, a declaration of their feelings for each other. Not some show for horny, rich men. “Do it now, or should he do it to you?”

Alfred barely heard anything that the men were saying now as long as his cock kept getting attention. It isn't until he looks down and sees Arthur there between his legs that he panics. He can't decide if its real or some sort of illusions brought on by the drugs but the sight of him drooling like that sent shivers down Alfred's spine.

If this is real, Alfred isn't sure how to feel. He wants it but not like this. He gives a distressed and confused look down at Arthur as if begging him to help somehow while his face is still flushed and he is breathing much too fast. His heart would surely thunder right out of his chest soon. "Please...don't." He says weakly to whoever will listen. He struggles against the binding on his arms again and ends up moaning outright.

Yao finally speaks up from the corner of the circle where he had been watching things unfold. "Stop messing around! You are not paying me to whore them together, they go separately or it cost double!" He shouts giving the men a sharp look.

The men grumbled rebelliously but obediently yanked Arthur back by his shirt. Arthur choked and coughed as his shirt tightened around his throat, but was quickly repositioned on someone’s lap. Eyes half-lidded, he watched as someone began stroking his cock again and choked as three fingers were forced into his mouth. He tried to bite down on them but someone else held his jaw open, thick fingers pressing harshly onto either side of his jawbone. More spittle dripped along his chin and he thrashed, only stopping when the hand on his cock tightened warningly.

The fingers in his mouth came out dripping with spit. The owner of the hand traced his fingers along Arthur’s belly, leaving trails of saliva. “Alfred,” Arthur moaned, bucking his hips, “Alfred… don’t touch him… Ahhhh…” He was turned around so that he was straddling the man’s lap, and the man’s hands shot down to grope his bottom. “N-no,” he gasped, moaning at the sensation, “no, no…”

He couldn’t see Alfred now, but he could surely hear him. The American’s gasps and groans were echoing in his head and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, wishing that he could cover his ears. This was wrong. This shouldn’t have been happening to someone like Alfred.

The door to the bedroom slammed open and a satisfied looking man swaggered out, a wad of cash in his fist. “I’m done,” he announced as a timid-looking boy limped out after him. “Who’s next?”

“Me,” the man behind Alfred announced immediately. “I can pay more than any of you, so I’m taking him first.”

“No,” Arthur groaned, “no, not Al… don’t, don’t, ohhh… ahh… haaa…” Arthur’s protests were cut off as something tightened painfully around the base of his cock. He cried out wordlessly, thrusting his hips against his captor’s stomach, but he knew what it was. He wouldn’t be allowed to come until Alfred emerged, fucked and used…. A finger slid down his crack and he shuddered, semi-incoherent moans falling from his mouth. “Al… Al, noo…. ahhh… fuck, no, stop… haaa… haaa… please…”

But he couldn’t do anything to prevent Alfred being bodily dragged into the bedroom.

Alfred lets out a long groan in relief and slums back against the man behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Arthur being groped by the man who's lap he is in though and he can't help but wonder if maybe it would have been better to not protest what had been fixing to happen. Then at least they would have been together and his boyfriend wouldn't be in someone else's hands right now.

He doesn't have much time to think about as he is yanks forward by his hair and dragged across the carpet. His glasses fall off and he hears a crack as someone steps on them. He can't do much but let himself be dragged off then, watching the fuzzy outline of Arthur until the door is slammed.

After that he is quickly shoved down and a tongue pushes into his mouth. Alfred gags and chokes back trying to push it out. When his mouth is free all he can do is moan as hands move down over his lower stomach. He bites his lip to stop the shameful noise, drawing blood which seems to make the man on top of him stop for a moment. He grumbles about something and some sort of cloth is used to wipe his mouth.

Alfred is thankful for the distraction as he catches his breath and tries to clean his mind. He has to do something. If only he could get his hands free.

Arthur let out a desperate, keening cry when Alfred was taken, writhing and thrashing as much as he could with his hands bound and his trousers around his knees. When that failed to do anything, he used the only thing he had left: a Glasgow Kiss. The man let out an agonised shout as Arthur smashed his skull against the man’s nose and heard a satisfying crack. Arthur toppled backwards off the man’s lap, landing flat on his back with his arms trapped underneath him.

“Little bitch!” the man screamed, blood pouring from his nose. Arthur struggled to sit up but could only lie there, panting and trying to get his hands free to touch himself. God, he needed to touch himself. He needed to come – and then he’d be able to concentrate better, and find a way out of this mess.

The man’s bloodstained hands closed around his throat and he choked, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw the man off. The man was straddling him, holding him down with his bodyweight, and Arthur panicked. He could feel splatters of blood dripping down onto his face and he could hear shouting in the background, but oh God he was trapped and he couldn’t move and Alfred, where was Alfred, why wasn’t Alfred helping him and he couldn’t breathe, those fingers were cutting off his oxygen and he was thrashing and could feel terrified tears welling in his eyes—

“This is not a good thing to do,” a voice said, sounding far away. The hands were prised from around his throat and suddenly Arthur could breathe again, he could breathe and someone was helping him sit up… “You pay to fuck them, not to kill them.” Arthur gasped and choked, eyes wide and spittle flowing from his lips, as Braginsky held him protectively. “I will claim him for tonight,” the Russian told the group of disappointed men. “None of you will touch him.”

He carried Arthur’s limp body into the bathroom, where he immediately untied his bonds and, without warning, shoved two fingers down his throat. Arthur choked and gagged, eyes streaming, before throwing up into the bathtub. “Please,” he gasped between sobs, “stop, why—” Braginsky shook his head, forcing his fingers in again. Arthur vomited again weakly, his stomach muscles spasming painfully. “Please,” he sobbed again, bile running down his chin, as he sank back against Braginsky limply, “please, don’t let them do it, Alfred, Alfred, he can’t—”

Finally there was nothing left in his stomach, and he dry heaved into the bathtub, sobbing hoarsely. His throat burned, his muscles ached and his head was pounding. “We will retrieve Friend Alfred,” Braginsky said softly, rubbing his back. “I would not wish this fate on anyone I call friend. But we must act now. Make sure your stomach is completely empty so that no more of the drug will be absorbed.” As he spoke, he took off the cock ring and jerked Arthur roughly. The Briton came almost immediately with a small cry of Alfred’s name, sagging against the edge of the tub.

As Braginksy – no, Ivan, he was a friend, he was helping them – led him back out into the living area, the other men seemed to quail and quickly excused themselves. Arthur couldn’t see his face, but guessed that Ivan was mad. He glanced around wearily, but couldn’t see Yao anywhere.

“He is inside,” Ivan said, shaking his head sadly. “I did not think that he would go this far. I love him but I will not stand for this. Alfred is a friend.”

He threw the bedroom door open and strode inside purposefully, gently dragging Arthur in behind him.

It doesn't take long before the man is on his again and Alfred is wriggling around trying to get him off and keep himself from making a complete slut out of himself. The man is having none of that though and sits on Alfred's legs to keep him still.

"Aw come on boy, it get's easier after the first time. You just need to relax." With a laugh the man starts to jerk Alfred off at a fast pace and Alfred let's out a long, loud sound as his struggling ceases.

It doesn't take long before Alfred's body betrays him and he gives a shout calling out for Arthur as he comes all over himself and the man's hand. His chest heaves and for a moment he can almost pretend that he isn't here in this scary place as his mind goes hazy.

A painful reminder of his situation returns though as the man's fingers are shoved into his mouth and he tastes all manner of things that he wishes he didn't. "There now, that wasn't so bad was it? Feels good don't it?" Alfred can't respond with the fingers still in his mouth and drool collecting in his throat. "and look, seems like your almost ready for another round." The man exclaims and Alfred is almost disgusted with himself. How can his body still want it.

Then there is a loud noise as the door is slammed open, Alfred can't see who it is from where he is but the voices make him hopeful. As the man is distracted by the sudden interruption Alfred takes the moment to wriggle his wrists again, managing to slip one out. His arm is sore and aching but he moves it out from under him and slaps the man on top of him. It is't hard, no where near what he normally could do but at least it's something. He wasn't giving up. "Arthur..is that you?" Alfred asks weakly, trying to see but the hazy figure in the doorway is far too tall to be Arthur..

Arthur leaned unsteadily against the door, peering into the darkened room. His heart stopped for a moment when he was Alfred on the bed with someone on top of him… had he been too late? Arthur lunged forward with a shout, wrestling with the man above Alfred. His fingers aimed for the eyes, the throat, and he bit, clawed and kicked without thinking. He just needed that man off of Alfred. The man fought back, slamming Arthur against the headboard but he couldn’t avoid the knee to the groin.

Arthur panted and pulled his boyfriend upright as the man toppled off the side of the bed with an agonised groan. Arthur’s throat and face were covered in splatters of blood and he was still flushed and dishevelled, but his only concern was Alfred. “Alfred, darling, come on,” he said desperately, wiping the sticky trails of semen off of Alfred’s stomach. “Come on lad, that’s it… we’re leaving, right now.” He untied Alfred’s wrists and gently eased his jeans back up his hips, trying his best to not scare his partner. He cursed himself for placing Alfred in this situation. Now the boy’s first sexual experience was ruined, and it was Arthur’s fault. And he was only a boy, wasn’t he? Too young to be doing this kind of thing. Arthur should have come alone. It wouldn’t have mattered if it were just him.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself muttering over and over as he tugged Alfred to his feet. The adrenaline had left his body and he felt like he was listing heavily to the side, as if he just had no energy left. His stomach was twisting and rolling and he blinked woozily at his boyfriend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen to you, never to you, Alfred, I’m sorry—”

Across the room, Ivan was standing between them and Yao, his arms folded across his chest. “They are my friends,” he told his boyfriend firmly. “Alfred especially. You cannot sell my friends. They tried to help me become close to you. I love you, Yao, but you cannot do this.”

Alfred makes a surprised noise as the bed rocks as Arthur wrestles the man off of him. Goodness he didn't know Arthur could ever look so vicious. He really was a little scary sometimes.

Alfred tries to prop himself up on his elbows once his arms are free but everything aches and is sore and he doesn't want to move. His pants still feel tight as they are pulled up on him and he wants to just take a moment to breath without weight on his chest. He casts an appreciative smile to Arthur though, or at least what is supposed to be one.

He stumbles when he is pulled to his feet and nearly bowls both of them over. "It's okay..."Alfred says weakly to Arthur to get him to stop with the apologies. It's not that he doesn't appreciate them but he's rather talk about it later.

Yao is standing at the door looking no less fierce for his size compared to the Russian. "You know how much I need this money. I will use any means to get it! Now get out of my way." He says approaching Ivan. He pauses though as he sees something behind them.

Before Alfred can turn to see what it is his ankle is grabbed by the man on the floor who seems to have regained his composer. He swings forwards and nearly face plants on the floor as a hand creeps up his leg, yanking at his jeans.

Arthur gave a wordless shout of anger and dived at the man. The man struck him solidly across the face and Arthur fell back a bit, blinking blearily. All these blows to his head weren’t good for him. The man instantly gripped Arthur’s hair and threw him sideways into a wardrobe before climbing back on top of Alfred. Arthur could feel something hot and sticky trickling down his forehead. He was still for a moment, dazed, before reaching back and pushing himself off of the wardrobe door. The weakened wood splintered at the force and Arthur found himself with a very familiar weapon in his hand.

“Freeze!” he shouted, clicking the safety off the handgun. He could tell by the weight that it was loaded. “Police!” He trained it on the man above Alfred. Arthur’s hands were strangely still even after all they’d been through that night, and the man slowly climbed off with his hands in the air.

He could see Ivan watching him with an unreadable expression and shook his head helplessly. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. They had to keep Ivan on their side if they were to make it out of here in one piece, but how would Ivan react now that he knew that they were policemen?

“I knew,” came Ivan’s slightly childish voice. “I knew from the beginning that you weren’t who you said you were. It is easy to spot a police officer, if you know what to look for.” He turned back to Yao as Arthur crept towards Alfred, keeping his gun turned on the man cowering against the wall. “I know that you need money. And I know that it is for an unselfish cause. I offered you funds from my family, and when you told me you didn’t want any charity, I offered to loan you money. But still you refused, and you did this. There are other ways, Yao. There are better ways.”

Alfred nearly panics from his place still on the floor. Had Arthur just blown their cover..even though it was pretty much a lost case now. He was thankful though to finally have the man off of him again. He rolls over to where he is looking up at the scene and casts a glance at Ivan. "You knew?" Alfred wants to hide his face at that. Had it been his fault that they had blown their cover? Was he not experienced enough?

When Arthur is close enough he grabs onto whatever part of him he can reach and grips onto it, burying his face. He feels more ashamed then ever now and Arthur is the only one he wants to see anymore.

"I did not want to take the money from you because that would not be honorable at all. A man must earn his own money. Especially if he is going to be with someone.." Yao says turning his face away as a flush crosses it and he tries his best to hold that angry frown on it.

Overhearing this Alfred sighs and moves slowly but surely to stand. He is still shaky on his feet but at least he can make it he thinks. "Let's..lets go Arthur...please." He says not sounding at all like his normal self.

Arthur encircled his boyfriend in a protective embrace, still wielding the gun with wild eyes. He could feel tiny tremors running up and down Alfred’s body and cursed himself again. How could he have let this happen? “It’s okay,” he murmured shakily, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have stopped this, I should have done something to keep you away... But I’m here now, I’m here…” And when this is over, you’ll never have to see the person who caused this ever again, he added silently. No matter how strongly he felt about Alfred, he would stay as far away from him as possible if it helped. Surely Alfred would blame him for this. Arthur blamed himself for this.

He glanced up to see Ivan pull Yao into a firm hug, murmuring into his ear quietly. The two of them sagged to the floor and Yao seemed to curl up against Ivan’s chest.

“We’re leaving, now,” Arthur announced, his voice hoarse. His throat was still burning from the vomiting and he wondered whether he needed to force Alfred to empty his stomach as well, but decided against it. Arthur would never take advantage of Alfred in that way, and the dosage that they’d received couldn’t have been as much as Arthur had gotten last time. He’d been able to think, however absently, and act on those thoughts. Arthur supported his boyfriend and staggered towards the door before hesitating. “Ivan—”

“We won’t run,” the Russian said firmly. “Will we, Yao?”

Arthur couldn’t see or hear Yao’s reply and took it as an affirmative when Ivan nodded at them somberly. They left the bedroom, and found the boy from before waiting just outside.

“I’ve got everything you need,” he said seriously. “Mister Braginsky said that he’d make things right, and that I needed to prepare. This is all the evidence you need.” He held up a backpack, then slid his arms through the straps. Arthur nodded at him, gestured for him to follow, and led Alfred back towards their dormitory room to collect their belongings. On the way, he called the station to have them send a team over, then promptly hung up when the Chief asked about if they were okay. He didn't want to talk about it. He just wanted to get Alfred out of here.

Alfred felt the tiniest bit better as he felt Arthur's arms around him again. It was something normal and safe and loving. He grips onto Arthur in return as if his life and sanity depends on it. He walks with Arthur out of the room, stumbling over his own feet, one shoe having been lost somewhere in all the chaos.

At the door Alfred looks confused between Arthur and the other man there. Evidence?..Had they really solved the case?..oh god that was a relief. He didn't know if the night had been successful or not but knowing that they had at least done their job toke a huge weight off his shoulders. He gives the boy the best smile he can manage under the circumstances. "Thank you.." He says, the only words that come out of his mouth until Arthur and him are back at their dorm.

He knows that they are supposed to be packing up and there's not much to back but he doesn't want to move. When he gets in he crawls over to the bed and tries to lay down but when he puts his arms around himself he feels sticky and dirty. "I..I need a shower." He says sitting up too quickly and feeling sick to his stomach, holding a hand over his mouth just in case.

Alfred hastily locks himself in the bathroom and turns the water on. He peels off what is left of his clothes and resolves to throw them away later before stepping under the spray. He is thankful as dried cum is washed off of his body but he can still taste it in his mouth and it makes him sick..so sick. He has to step out of the shower, dripping wet to lean over the toilet and choke out the contents of his stomach.

Arthur listened to the sounds of retching coming from inside the bathroom and felt his chest tighten painfully. He’d already quickly and efficiently packed every personal item that they’d brought with them. His body seemed to be working on instinct, because the only thing he could think about was Alfred hurting behind the locked door. The boy watched him warily from his perch on the couch and once Arthur had gotten all the bags next to the door and ready to be taken he stopped and gave the boy a minute.

“What’s your name, lad?” he asked, throat burning with every word. The sounds of Alfred throwing up in the bathroom made his own stomach twist uncomfortably and he wondered if he was going to be sick again.

The boy clutched the bag of evidence to his chest. “Eduard,” he said. “Listen… You can get me away from them, right? I don’t want to go back there. We’re all… we have an addiction to that drug, but a lot of us won’t have the money to go through rehabilitation and I don’t know what to do, so we just stayed and did what he said because he kept giving us what we needed…”

There was a knock on the door and Arthur opened it cautiously, letting out a relieved sigh when he saw it was the Chief. He’d gripped the gun all through the walk back and while packing the bags, but it was shaking in his hand now and the Chief had no problem removing it from his grasp. “Injuries?” he demanded, eyeing Arthur critically.

Arthur shook his head. “Blood’s not mine,” he rasped, feeling a fresh trickle of warmth sliding down his forehead. It was no big deal. Head wounds tended to bleed a lot, so they always looked worse than they really were. “Key witness is in here. Have to keep him safe. ‘M taking Alfred home.” Exhaustion was quickly overtaking him. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and pass out.

“Is Jones all right?” the Chief peered around the room, then locked in on the bathroom. “The other teams have gone to the room you called about. They’ll meet us back at the station.”

“I’m not going to the fucking station!” Arthur shouted, his head pounding and voice cracking. “I am going to drop Alfred off at his flat, and then go home to mine. You have a witness. You have evidence. And you should be arresting the main suspect right now so just fucking go wrap up the case and leave us alone!”

The Chief was silent for a moment and gave him an unreadable look before nodding. “You can file your report the day after tomorrow. We’ll take the witness with us now. Is there anything you need me to do, Arthur?”

Arthur searched for a moment and grabbed Alfred’s keys. “Just… take Alfred’s car back to the station. Please. We’ll take mine, and he can pick it up in a few days.”

The Chief nodded again and left with Eduard in tow. Arthur sat down shakily on the couch to wait for Alfred to emerge from the bathroom. The case was done, but would the American ever be able to get past what had happened? He pictured Alfred’s shocked face, the self-disgust and horror evident to see. This was never supposed to happen. Arthur buried his face in his hands.

Alfred could hear a bit of the conversation outside, just enough to know that the chief must have stopped by from the sound of Arthur's shouting and that something else was going on.

He really didn't want to leave the bathroom, but he had nothing left in his stomach to give up and had sat under the shower water long enough to be thoroughly clean. So he hesitantly turned the water and and climbed out. In his rush to get in though he had not thought to bring in clean clothes in with him. He eyes his dirty clothes on the floor and grimaced.

"Arthur..."He called out not quite loudly trying to get the attention of his partner from the other room. "I..don't have anything to put on..Could you bring me something." He sits down on the toilet lid wiping the water from his eyes as he waited for answer.

From the sound of things they weren't going back to the station which was fine with him. He didn't want to deal with work right now. That could wait for when he was good and ready to forget the night complete. For when he wasn't sore in all number of places anymore and didn't feel so miserably weak as he did right now. He had never felt so powerless before and it messed with him that he hadn't done a thing to help solve the case but get himself trapped and touched and..

"Arthur.."He called again, hoping he will hurry up and get some clothes.

Arthur heard Alfred calling for him from the bathroom and momentarily panicked before taking in Alfred’s words. He took a few deep breaths and rubbed at his red, swollen eyes before getting up off the couch and hunting through Alfred’s bag for some clothes. He found some loose tracksuit bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt, knowing that Alfred wouldn’t want anything tight right now, nor would he want unnecessary contact with his skin. He pulled out some underwear too and made his way over to the bathroom, knocking on it gently to try and keep from startling his partner. “I’ve got some clothes for you,” he rasped quietly, “and we can leave as soon as you’re done in there.”

He could wait until he got back to his flat to clean himself up. Arthur just wanted to get Alfred away, back to the safety and comfort of his own home. He’d make sure that Alfred was safe and comfortable, and then he’d leave. But was it safe to leave Alfred by himself right now? Maybe he could settle Alfred in the bedroom and nap on the couch until the morning… but then again, maybe he was just letting his selfish desire to be near Alfred overshadow what would be best for the American.

Eventually Alfred emerged from the bathroom, still looking pale, tired and ill. Arthur couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, so he dropped his gaze to the floor and hefted up all the bags despite his exhaustion. Alfred wouldn’t want to be touched right now. Arthur shouldered his way out of the door. “We should get going. I’ll drop you off at home,” he said, and they made the trek out to the student carpark.

Alfred cracks open the door enough to pull the clothes through and gets dressed as quickly as he can at the promise of going home. He hadn't been him in forever it seemed like even though the days only numbered up to a little over a week. So many things had changed since then though. Alfred looks at himself in the mirror once before he gets leaves the bathroom.

He makes an attempt to get some of the bags from Arthur but when he picks up the one with his clothes in it, it just drags across the floor and he ends up letting Arthur to do it. He hates unloading all the work onto the other man but he just can't seem to lift anything but himself right now.

He follows Arthur out to the parking lot, trailing along closely behind him. He doesn't ask where his truck is as he figures that someone will take care of it. He slides into the passenger seat of Arthur's car and buckles himself in and waits.

When they get to his place he makes sure to at least make himself useful and gets one bag to heft along with him as he goes to his door and unlocks it. Stepping inside feels almost like going back in time. The superhero posters seem sillier then they used to and the action figures and dvds that litter the shelves and floor seem almost pointless. He wonders if he should do some cleaning when he feels better. He dumps the bag somewhere inside the door and goes to sit on the couch, leaning against the arm rest and laying his head on it.

Arthur awkwardly followed Alfred into the American’s flat, carrying one bag. He left the door open and hovered in the doorway, watching as Alfred seemed to collapse onto the couch. He cleared his throat softly, wincing at the raw feeling. “You… accidentally picked up one of my bags, Alfred. This one here’s yours.” He set the bag that he was carrying down and took up the other one instead, looking at Alfred but not knowing what to say or do.

“I…” he shifted from foot to foot, his eyes blurring slightly. Arthur knew that he needed to rest soon, and if he didn’t leave now then he wouldn’t last the drive back to his flat. But it would be too callous to leave the American in this state, wouldn’t it? “Do… Do you want me to go?” he asked in a whisper. “I can leave you alone, if you’d like. Um…”

What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t fix this and he couldn’t fix them and he couldn’t even fix himself and he didn’t know what to do. Arthur buried his face in one hand as he leaned against the wall. “What should I do?” he found himself asking desperately. He didn’t want to leave. Even if he was being selfish, even if that would be the best thing for Alfred… he wanted to stay. “What can I do for you? I know that this is my fault but I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” To his horror, his voice was shaking and a lump was forming in his throat. His eyes prickled with tears and he blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. “I’m sorry, Alfred, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t keep you safe and I couldn’t do anything to help you and if you want, if you tell me to, I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again but I…” his voice cracked and he was across the room in a split second, kneeling next to the couch, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks, “I really hope you don’t because Alfred, Alfred, I think I’m really in love with you.”

"Oh? Did I?" Alfred asks feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Sorry, I just grabbed the first thing I saw."

Alfred moves so that he was looking up at where Arthur was again..really looking. He didn't notice until then that he didn't have his glasses anymore. He had left them, probably shattered on the floor of Yao's dorm. He could hear just fine though. "Arthur I.." He stops himself as he hears Arthur keep talking suddenly.

Alfred sits up as he listens, a growing expression of concern on his face. He felt like shit, he felt..wrong in all kinds of way but that didn't mean he wanted Arthur to blame himself for it. No, not at all. "Arthur, please don't talk like that. It's not your fault." Despite not really being angry Alfred's voice comes out sounding irritated. "You don't need to do anything.."

Then Arthur is there, in front of him in a heap on the floor crying and Alfred nearly freaks out himself. He's about to tell Arthur to knock it off and stop it because it's causing him to panic and his heart is racing suddenly but the words that he finds himself hearing cause it all to come to a crashing halt.

Alfred is still for a moment before he lets out a shaky sigh to restart his breathing. He scoots forward on the couch to reach out for Arthur, putting his hands on the other's shoulders before they wonder down and try to pull him up. " I wasn't going to kick you out stupid.." Alfred says, sounding slightly more like his normal self. "I was...going to ask you to stay with me actually..demand that you stay." He leans forward to wrap his arms around Arthur and leans on him. "I don't want to be alone tonight.."

Arthur obediently climbed up onto the couch next to Alfred and clung to him despite still being dirtied with dried blood and cum. “I won’t let you be alone tonight,” he promised between hitched breaths, stroking Alfred’s hair. “I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”

He tried not to feel disappointed at what Alfred hadn’t said. If Alfred didn’t feel that way about him… well, he couldn’t force it. It was enough to have him in his arms right now, to be the one that Alfred wanted beside him, if only for tonight. He shouldn’t have read so deeply into things, thinking that just because Alfred was attracted to him meant that he loved Arthur. Because it didn’t work like that, did it? Everyone whom he’d ever slept with had found him attractive to some degree, but love had never factored into it.

He shook his head and tried to concentrate on Alfred. Kind, handsome, gentle Alfred who had been touched in the cruelest of ways tonight. He was being selfish again, stupidly hoping for a declaration of love after seeing the boy go through something like that. He tried to pull back slightly in self-disgust but found the other man’s arms locked firmly around him. “I’m dirty,” he whispered. In more than one way. I’m soiled and you’re right, I don’t deserve your love and this is enough, this will be enough to last me until you recover and decide that I’m to blame after all…

Alfred allows himself the tiniest of smiles as he keeps his face buried in Arthur's shoulder. He wonders if he requests that Arthur just stay with him here forever if he's agree..That would be manipulative though he thinks and he doesn't want that. He tries to ignore how Arthur smells like the events of the night but it makes his stomach churn and he gulps, breathing shaky every few minutes. Despite this Alfred holds onto him tightly like a life line.

As for returning Arthur's sort of confession. Alfred..Alfred wants to say those words back but now isn't the right time. Not when he can't see Arthur's eyes properly, not when he's still shaken up and not when they both need some rest, for sanity's sake.

When Arthur says that he is dirty Alfred just chuckles dryly. "You should have taken a shower..but I guess I toke up all the time before in the bathroom..I'm sorry."

He lifts his head up finally, moving a bit away from the hands in his hair as his scalp is sensitive from being pulled and tugged and ripped at. He searches Arthur's face, trying to pick out his expression but it's hard to place. "You can go use my shower if you want..as long as you come back here when your done." Alfred says immediately berating himself for sounding so childish.

"It's okay," he whispered, shaking his head, "I was going to wait to clean up anyway. I just wanted to get you out of there." He stroked Alfred's cheek. "I'll go clean up now, then... And I'll come back here straight away, if that's what you want."

 Arthur shakily made his way into the bathroom, dragging in his bag behind him. He closed and locked the door with a quiet click before stripping off all of his clothing. He turned the hot water on and stepped under the scalding spray, finally letting the full-bodied sobs rip loose from his chest as red liquid swirled down the drain. It was his fault, it was all his fault and even though Alfred had said that it wasn't, it really was and Arthur had never hated himself more than at that moment. 

He crumpled to the floor of the shower and sobbed, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, rocking himself back and forth. He couldn't break down like that in front of Alfred again. He'd seen the agitation that he'd caused, and Alfred really didn't need to be worked up by him bawling like a baby when the poor lad already had enough to deal with. The smell of Alfred's shampoo and bodywash overwhelmed him and he could only sob harder. 

He stayed in that position until the water was merely lukewarm, his sobs having died down to sniffles. He hadn't cried so much in years and years. But he'd done it now, and if he was going to help Alfred recover then he had to keep a hold of his emotions and be ready for when Alfred stopped feeling numb and finally broke down. 

Arthur slowly climbed out of the shower and dressed in a long-sleeved pair of pyjamas before heading back out to the livingroom. He climbed back onto the couch beside Alfred and silently enclosed him in his arms from behind, letting the American know that he was there. 

Alfred nods and allows Arthur to go and wash himself up, letting go of him.

As he waits, Alfred sinks down further into the couch until he is laying down with his head on the other side of the cushions. It reminds him of the first night Arthur spent there. He has to smile remember it. It's like a fond dream somehow.

A sound breaks through his daydreaming though, something he can hear through the little walls of the apartment and the water running. Was..Was Arthur crying? The sound just felt all kinds of wrong to Alfred's ears. He wanted to comfort Arthur but he didn't want to move from his spot on the couch. He didn't have the energy or will to do so. So he waited for Arthur to come back instead.

When he felt arms around him Alfred's eyes shot open, when had they closed? Was he really that tired?..His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest as he realizes that is't just Arthur coming back. He can tell from the slightly damp skin and the smell of soap and that alone is comforting. He rolls over so that he is facing Arthur and takes a deep breath, getting as close to him as he can.

"Arthur...I" he says wondering if he should tell him he heard the crying. Would it upset him more? He also wants to return those words from earlier but Alfred doesn't know. There's a lot of thing he doesn't know where to step right now to feel safe. So he decides not to. "..mmm...Thank you." He ends up finishing as his sentence, feeling groggy and tired.

“You’re welcome,” Arthur whispered, “but I don’t know what you’re thanking me for. I’ve… I’m sorry, Alfred.” He held his boyfriend tightly, not wanting to let him out of his arms ever again. He’d known that Alfred was younger than him, but the American had always seemed so big and strong. Now he seemed like an injured, wary child who didn’t know who to trust, and Arthur cursed himself over and over for allowing that to happen.

He peered down at Alfred’s face and saw just how weary the American was. “Do… you want to go to bed?” he asked quietly. “Don’t worry, I can stay out here. But you should get some rest, Alfred.” As he spoke he gently coaxed Alfred into standing up and led him into the bedroom, supporting his boyfriend the entire way.

He hadn’t seen Alfred’s bedroom last time, but when he flicked the lights on he honestly wasn’t too surprised. Glow-in-the-dark stars dotted the ceiling and the bed was fitted with Superman sheets. Arthur smoothed the sheets back and slowly eased Alfred into the bed before pulling it up again and tucking it firmly against Alfred’s body. “I’ll just be outside if you need me,” he said, combing Alfred’s fringe back from his face with his fingers.

" And I don't know why your saying sorry." Alfred replies simply as he is reluctantly made to stand. He has never been more thankful for Arthur then as the other is half carrying him to his room. If left alone he would have just slept on the couch, the thought of beds making Alfred cringe at the moment.

As he sees his own bed though the feeling eases up and Alfred sighs with a smile. He enjoys the feeling of being tucked in my someone, sinking into the sheets and trusting Arthur.

He catches Arthur by the arm again though as he goes to leave. "Stay here..you don't have to stay on the couch. Just..don't leave.' Alfred says suddenly realizing he's frightened to sleep without Arthur in his sight. It's a very troubling thought but he can feel the panic just beneath the surface. He tugs on Arthur's arm to coerce him to get in bed next to him.

“A-are you sure?” Arthur asked in concern. He would have thought that Alfred would want to sleep alone, knowing that he was safe and out of reach of anyone. Wouldn’t it be best to allow Alfred some time to gather his confidence back up in private? “I won’t leave, even if I stay out in the living room.” But Alfred was tugging at him insistently and Arthur’s resolve crumbled. “All right then, dar—Alfred. Just let me get the lights.” He hurried back towards the door and flicked the lights off, then returned to the bed. He climbed in beside Alfred and lay there stiffly, letting Alfred rearrange him however he liked. Just because Alfred wanted him close didn’t mean that Alfred wanted to be touched.

He turned his head and inhaled against the pillow, closing his eyes and relishing the smell of Alfred. On the ceiling, the plastic stars glowed almost eerily against the darkness. Arthur stared up at them for a moment before shifting with an incredulous noise. “Did you really stick your stars up in proper constellations?” he whispered, feeling his breath stir Alfred’s hair. “That’s… amazing. I would never have that much patience.”

It was little things like this that cemented the fact that Arthur just would not be willing to give Alfred up. Alfred was amazing. He was like Arthur’s star, something bright and shining to gaze up at in adoration. “Out of all the officers at the station,” he whispered, feeling silly and abashed, “I’m glad I chose you to be my partner.”