#atv

The date had gone well.

You'd meant to go to the cinema. You'd ended up walking along the river for two hours, sharing a bag of those little cinnamon doughnuts from a market stall, arguing about something completely inconsequential and then ducking into a pub when it started raining, sitting in a corner booth and talking until the bar staff started giving you looks.

A month of this now. A month of Arthur showing up looking criminally good for no reason — tonight it had just been a dark green tshirt with his black puffer coat, which should not have been as effective as it was — and somehow making you feel like the most interesting person in the room without even trying.

The kissing had happened early, maybe a week in, outside a coffee shop, slightly awkward, both of you laughing into it. Since then it had become a regular feature. You'd kissed in his car, in yours, on his sofa, in yours, outside a restaurant, against the wall of a greggs at eleven PM which was embarrassing in retrospect. Arthur kissed like he did with most things — full attention, no half-measures, hand curling into your jaw like he'd thought about where to put it beforehand. Which he probably had, because that was Arthur.

But there was something else there too. Something that had been sitting just underneath the surface for a few weeks now. You could feel it in the way he'd pull back slightly at a certain point, or laugh and redirect, or find some very convenient reason to check his phone.

You hadn't pushed. You were fine. You liked this. You liked him. But you'd be lying if you said you hadn't noticed.

Tonight, you were on his sofa.

You both came back after the pub because he wanted to show you his favourite movie, which had lasted approximately twenty-three minutes before the TV became background noise and you were sideways across the cushions, Arthur leaning over you with one hand braced on the armrest, kissing you in a slow, deliberate way that made your brain go a bit quiet. His thumb was tracing along your jaw. You had your fingers curled in the front of his jacket.

"You kept the jacket on," you murmured against his mouth.

"Yeah." He pulled back a little, glanced down at himself. "Is that weird?"

"No, I like it." You tugged on the collar. "You look nice."

Something shifted in his expression — soft, almost surprised, like he still hadn't quite gotten used to you saying things like that to him directly. He looked at you for a moment, and you watched his throat move when he swallowed.

Then he kissed you again, slower this time, and you felt his hand move from your jaw to your waist, careful and warm through the fabric of your top.

It went on like that for a while. Long enough that you felt it again — that slight pause. The way his breathing shifted. The way he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours instead, eyes closed.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't apologise," you said. "You don't have to apologise."

He opened his eyes. "I just—" He stopped. Started again. "I'm not trying to be annoying."

"You're not being annoying."

"I know you're probably—" He let out a short breath. "I know we've been doing this for a month and I'm being—"

"Arthur." You shifted so you could look at him properly. "I promise you, I'm not frustrated. I'm good. This is good."

He nodded slowly, but you could tell the thing that was sitting in him hadn't quite let go.

He walked you home a couple hours later holding your hand the whole way, kissing you at your door for a long time like he was sorry for something he hadn't actually done wrong. He watched you go inside with his hands in his pockets and a slightly tense jaw that meant he was going to go home and think about something for a very long time.

He was, in fact, going to go home and think about it for a very long time. And then he was going to do something about it.

Arthur got back to his flat, dropped his keys, shrugged off his coat, hung it up and sat on the end of his bed with his elbows on his knees and his phone in his hands.

He was, if he was being honest with himself, terrified. Not of you specifically — you were the least terrifying part of this whole situation, which was sort of the problem.

You were easy to be around. You were warm and funny and you looked at him like he was someone worth looking at, and that made the whole thing feel higher stakes.

Because the idea of being bad at this. Of being awkward and disappointing — in front of you, someone he actually, genuinely cared about impressing — was the kind of thought that made his chest tighten.

He knew you were more experienced. He didn't know the specifics but he could tell from the relaxed, unbothered way you held yourself even in charged moments that this wasn't uncharted territory for you the way it was for him.

You were never nervous. You were always soft and a bit shy and sweet, but you weren't nervous.

And Arthur, who was very good at research, who got his A-levels by making colour-coded flashcards, who had approached every skill by first understanding it comprehensively, had decided that the solution was obvious.

He opened his laptop

At the top of a new document he typed: 'How to be good at sex.' Then he deleted it, reading that title felt like getting the worst post nut clarity he'd ever gotten. He typed: 'Research' then deleted that too. He left the title blank, which was somehow better, and opened google.

The first Reddit thread he found was titled "first time tips that actually helped" and had four hundred and something comments.

By midnight, the word doc had grown considerably. He'd reorganised it twice, given it subheadings, and then felt embarrassed about the subheadings and removed them, and then put them back because they were useful.

The first section which he had initially called 'General' and then renamed 'Mindset', contained information from three different Reddit threads and one surprisingly well written article on a health website. The unanimous takeaway was that the first time being imperfect was not only normal but essentially universal, and that anxiety about performance was itself a significant contributor to poor performance.

More usefully: communication was in nearly every source as the single most important factor. 'Ask what feels good.' 'Check in.' 'Don't assume.' He thought he was pretty decent at paying attention to people which meant he had a transferable skill and that was encouraging.

The second section was 'Foreplay', which had the most threads and had taken the longest to get through because the threads were really fucking long and frequently went in directions he hadn't anticipated.

The consolidated notes were as follows:

Do not skip it, do not rush it, it matters significantly more than most people going into a first time realise, and it matters especially for a partner's experience.

It is not a checklist to get through before the main event, it is itself the point, and approaching it as a precursor rather than as something to be present in is a mistake.

use your hands and your mouth and pay attention to which one is getting a better response and follow that signal rather than sticking to a predetermined plan.

Arthur also noted, from multiple sources, that taking time here (not rushing, not treating it like a box to tick) was the single most frequently cited difference between a good experience and a mediocre one.

The third section had taken a certain amount of embarrassment to research for some reason but Arthur was nothing if not thorough.

Condoms.

(He'd already bought some three weeks ago which he was taking with him to the grave.)

He looked up the correct way to use one anyway because it turned out there were several commonly made errors he had not been aware of. Leave space at the tip. 'Check the expiry date', which, fine, obvious, but apparently often forgotten in the moment. 'Pinch the tip when rolling it on to prevent air bubbles', which he genuinely had not known.

'Store them correctly — not a wallet, not a glovebox, nothing that subjects them to sustained heat or pressure' — he made a note to move his from the drawer where they'd been sitting next to his laptop charger, which probably got warm.

He also went back and confirmed the brand he'd bought was a standard size and not something he'd grabbed wrong, which had involved a mildly harrowing few minutes on a website, but the conclusion was fine and he moved on.

The fourth section was 'Positions', which had been the most and least useful research he'd done.

The internet had weird opinions about this.

The general consensus for a first time — cross-referenced across a few Reddit threads, a health article, and one very earnest Quora answer — was that 'positions where you have more control over depth and pace were preferable to ones that prioritised anything else, because they allowed for adjustment and reduced the likelihood of discomfort for either party.' 'Go slowly at first. Let her set the pace if she wants to.'

He also noted, from a different thread, that 'eye contact mattered to most people more than they admit', and that 'the instinct to hide your face or look away when you felt self-conscious was very common and also worth resisting', because 'it created distance at a moment when distance was the opposite of what you wanted'. Arthur looked at that note for a long time. He was good at eye contact. Hopefully.

The last section (added at 2:30am with slightly tired eyes) was just two lines.

He read a thread titled something like "what do you wish you'd known" and most of the answers were versions of things he'd already written down, but two people had said variations of the same thing in a way that stuck with him.

The first: 'it's not about being impressive, it's about being present'.

The second: 'the person you're with already wants you there, or they wouldn't be there either.'

He read those twice. Saved the word doc. And put his laptop down. Went to brush his teeth. And then fell alseep.

It was another week before anything happened, and when it did it was completely undramatic

A Tuesday.

You cooked dinner at his because you made an offhand comment two weeks ago about the fact that he didn't own a proper sauté pan and it haunted him enough that he bought one and mentioned it. You laughed and said you'd come over and justify the purchase.

So you cooked, and he sat on the counter in his kitchen watching you move around his space like you belonged there, occasionally handing you things, occasionally getting in the way on purpose because it made you laugh and shove him with your shoulder.

A while later you ended up sideways across the sofa again, Arthur leaning over you, one hand braced on the armrest, kissing you in that same slow and deliberate way he had that made your brain go pleasantly quiet.

His thumb traced along your jaw. You had your fingers curled in the front of his jacket.

"You kept the jacket on again," you giggled against his mouth.

He pulled back slightly, glanced down at himself. "I guess i did."

"No." You tugged gently on the collar. "I like it. You look nice."

He kissed you slower this time. It went on like that for a while like normal. Long enough that the TV had cycled through an episode of something neither of you had been watching. Long enough that you ended up rearranged — his weight pressed against your side, your leg hooked loosely over his.

Then his mouth moved.

Not away, just — down. Along your jaw, slow and warm, and the change in it was enough to make you go still for half a second, a small surprised sound catching in your throat before you could stop it. His lips pressed to the hinge of your jaw, then just beneath it, unhurried, like he had a plan.

"Is that okay?" he murmured against your skin. Low and quiet, and genuinely asking.

"Yeah," you said, and your voice came out softer than you intended. "Yeah, that's — yeah."

You felt him smile against your neck.

The kiss when he came back to your mouth was different — more wanting. Your hand slid up into his hair without consciously deciding to do so. His hand at your waist tightened slightly. The whole thing had that specific, warm, breathless quality of something that had been building for longer than either of you had acknowledged out loud.

He kissed down your neck again, more deliberately this time, and you tipped your head back on instinct, giving him room, fingers curling in his hair. When his mouth found a spot just below your jaw and stayed there, warm and intentional, you exhaled unevenly and he took that as the answer it was — pressing a little harder. Enough to make your breath catch.

"Arthur—"

"Still okay?" Mouth still against your neck.

"Very okay," you managed.

He laughed quietly, low and warm, and kissed back up to your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before finding your lips again. The kissing got desperate — you werent quite sure when it tipped over, but now his coat was off and your fingers were twisted in his tshirt and neither of you were paying any attention to the movie.

His mouth was still on yours, unhurried despite everything. Arthur was slowly unravelling you — he kissed with patience that felt weirdly intentional. Like he wasn't in a rush because he'd already decided exactly what he was doing. It made your brain malfunction.

Then his mouth dropped to your jaw again. Your neck. And this time there was nothing hesitant about it.

He found the spot just below your ear and you made a sound that you would have been embarrassed about if you weren't stuck in a drunken haze. Your fingers slid into his hair.

He took the response as the invitation it was and pressed harder — lips and teeth. the sting of his bite made you gasp causing him to smile against the blooming hickey.

"Arthur—" His name came out unsteady and he hummed against your skin, low and quiet, and that somehow made it worse.

He kissed down your throat, slow and thorough, like he was learning something. Like he was paying attention — which he was.

Every sound you made, every small shift in your breathing, every unconscious tilt of your head giving him better access — he clocked all of it and adjusted accordingly, and the effect was that it felt less like something happening to you and more like something being done for you which you were struggling to process.

His teeth grazed your pulse point.

"Oh — Arthur"

You felt him smile. The audacity of it. You tightened your fingers and tugged his hair, forcing a quiet sound from him against your neck that was the most undone you'd heard him all evening. And something about knowing you could do that to him made you tip his head up by the hair and bring his mouth back to yours, harder this time.

He responded immediately. Both hands finding your waist, pulling you into him, and the kiss was different now — way less patient, more urgent, the kind that had your back arching slightly without meaning to. He kissed like he'd run out of reasons to hold back and had decided, collectively, to stop bothering.

You broke away to get your mouth to his jaw, his neck. You pressed your lips there, felt him exhale sharply. You kissed harder, letting your teeth catch just slightly, and his grip on your waist tightened enough to make you feel it.

"That's—" he started, and didn't finish, which told you everything.

You worked your way up to just below his ear and he turned his head to give you room and sucked hard, that mark was not going to go away anytime soon.

Then his hands moved.

Still at your waist, but now sliding under the hem of your top, warm palms against your skin, and the contact made you pull back slightly, looking at him. His hair was a disaster. His mouth was bitten-red. He looked at you with a blissful expression.

Then he said, quietly, "Can I—" and tilted his head toward your top.

"Yeah,"

He took the hem and you helped him, lifting your arms. His eyes immediately falling to your black lacy bra that you may or may not have worn on purpose.

"It's getting got in here, so take of all your clothes," you sang jokingly.

"I am getting so hot, I'm gonna take my clothes of" he said back with a slight giggle

He didn't hesitate. He reached for his own shirt, pulled it over his head in one easy motion, dropped it somewhere behind him, and then his mouth found yours again before you'd fully processed the view of his abs and v-line, which was frankly inconsiderate of him.

Somewhere along the way you'd ended up on his bed.

You weren't entirely sure of the sequence of events that had led to this, apart from the sofa becoming insufficient and the bedroom being a mutual, wordless agreement. So now you were on his bed with Arthur leaning over you, one arm bracketing your head, looking down at you with that expression that was quickly becoming your favourite thing he did.

"You're staring idiot," you teased.

"Your so beautiful," he said, completely unbothered.

You laughed and he dropped his head and kissed you before you could say anything else about it.

His mouth found your collarbone and you stopped laughing fairly quickly after that.

He mouthed across it leaving a trail of flush. You had one hand in his hair and one curled into the duvet doing your best to breathe normally, which was a losing battle.

He then mouthed at the curve of your shoulder and then his teeth caught there gently and you made a sound that was embarrassingly involuntary.

"There?" he smirked against your skin.

"Shut up," you said, which he correctly interpreted as yes.

He smiled against your shoulder, pressed his lips there more deliberately, and you felt the sting of his canines that meant he was leaving something behind. Your fingers tightened in his hair. He kissed across to the other side thoroughly.

You got your hands on his shoulders and pushed lightly and he took the hint immediately, rolling onto his back, and now you were over him.

His finger traced over the dark marks blossoming on your torso.

"Are you just a part time vampire or something?" You held eye contact and kissed his jaw with fervour. Felt his exhale, and kissed further down to the side of his throat. His head tipped back against the pillow on instinct giving you room without you having to ask for it.

You took your time with his neck. Found his pulse point and stayed there, felt the way his breathing changed, the way his hands came up to your waist and gripped. You pressed harder — the drag of your teeth on him — and he made a sound he hadn't planned on making.

"That's going to be visible," he said, tilting his head to look at the mark.

"I know," you smiled and kissed up to his jaw and then his mouth and he pulled you down into it like he'd been waiting, hands sliding up your back, warm and firm.

He rolled you back over without breaking the kiss, smooth enough that you made a surprised sound into his mouth, and he pulled back just far enough to look at you.

"Was that okay?"

"Arthur, if you ask me that one more time I'm leaving."

"Really?"

"Well I'm considering it."

His fingers found your bra strap tentatively, tracing along the fabric at your shoulder. Then he looked at you.

"Can I take this off?"

"You can try," you said.

You sat up and he shifted behind you, and you felt his fingers find the clasp at your back — carefully and focused.

Ten seconds passed.

Then fifteen.

You pressed your lips together.

"This is a bit embarrassing, isn't it," he said

"A little bit yeah—"

"I know how it works—"

"I didn't say anything—"

"You were thinking it—"

"Arthur I am saying nothing—"

He laughed properly, forehead dropping briefly to your shoulder in defeat, and you were laughing too. For a moment it was just the two of you in the low light of his room, laughing at his inability to undo your bra.

Then the clasp gave.

"There—" he said triumphantly.

"Well done," you said, very sincerely.

He made a sound that was mostly dignity recovering, and you felt the straps loosen at your shoulders.

And then, the part he didnt anticipate, you went still. Your arms coming up slightly, crossing over your chest, just enough to hold things in place. A sudden shy reflex that you hadn't been expecting from yourself.

Arthur noticed immediately.

He came back around to face you, and his expression had shifted completely. His brows furrowed slightly with concern.

"Are you okay?"

The softness made something loosen in your chest. You looked at him and smiled, a little sheepish, a little caught.

"Yeah — no, sorry. I'm fine." You laughed quietly at yourself. "It's our first time together so I'm just — I don't know. Being a bit shy. Give me a second."

He nodded slowly, and his lips curving slightly, then he closed his eyes there in front of you.

"Take all the time you need," he said, quietly.

You looked at him for a moment. At the line of his jaw, the way his lashes rested against his cheek, the slight curve still at the corner of his mouth. The complete absence of pressure in all of it.

You took a breath. And then quietly, in your own time, you slipped the bra off. Let it fall somewhere. And then you reached out and took his hands, and placed them gently on your chest.

The breath that left him was slow and involuntary. His hands were warm and still and you felt his fingers curl slightly. His lips parted. Eyes still closed. Like he was concentrating on the feeling.

"So," he said, after a moment. Voice lower than usual. Holding back a laugh. "Can I open my eyes?"

"Uh huh."

He opened them.

The look on his face made you want to hide and also never look away. He looked like he was recalibrating. His hands stayed where they were. His thumbs moved.

"You're so pretty" he said. Softer than all the other times.

"You too," you whispered back.

He kissed you after that, his right hand moving from your boob to cup your cheek as his left stayed there kneading the flesh slowly. You could feel him thinking: the way he kept checking in without words, watching your face, adjusting.

After a moment he pulled back and looked at you and said — earnest in the way only Arthur could — "What do you want?"

The question landed warmly. Directly. No performance in it.

You considered him for a second. The genuine openness of his face. And then, a little shyly, you told him.

"I um- I want you to suck my boobs."

His expression did something complicated and then became determined. He nodded once like a man consulting an internal checklist, and you loved him a little for it.

He dipped his head, and his mouth found the curve of your right breast., warm and tentative at first. His tongue flicking the sensitive nipple whilst his fingers tweaked the other.

When he bit into the flesh next to your areola you made an embarrassingly high gasp at the sting, the pain sending vibrations to your core. He continued to ravish your chest, leaving darkening patches and spit coating you, responding to every sound you made.

Your fingers slid into his hair. He found something that worked and stayed with it, and the noises you made told him everything he needed to know.

You pulled back and tugged him but his hair to meet your mouth in a hungry frenzy.

He whimpered slightly at the pain as he kissed you with fervour.

Then your hand moved. Sliding slowly and deliberately, down his stomach to his hips, your fingers brushing over the outline of his arousal.

His breath hitched and he went very still under your touch. You felt it before you reached where you were going. Felt how much he wanted this, had been wanting it, and the realisation sent warmth flooding through your chest.

You looked up at him.

"Can I—"

"You don't have to—" he started, at the same time.

You both stopped.

"I want to," you said.

He looked at you for a moment. That careful, open look. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He exhaled slowly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "Okay."

He lifted his hips as you lowered the waistband of his shorts and boxers. He shifted to take them of completely and threw them somewhere, even more blood, if that was even possible, rushing to his aching cock as he realised you were staring.

"Why are you staring at my peener?" He asked with a nervous laugh.

You smiled out how adorable he was, all nervous and shy as you kitten licked his pink tip. Arthur' breath hitched as his fingers brushed your hair almost pulling it into a ponytail.

"C—can I hold —"

You immediately let your free hand guide his grip onto your hair fully, feeling him exhale shakily at the gesture. His cock twitched as you traced a vein with your tongue from the tip to the base.

"Please Please Please —" He whispered silently.

You took him in fully now, cheeks hollowed out, tongue caressing the underside of his length. As you started bobbing your head up and down, Arthurs grip on your hair increased.

"Fuck you're —"

He malfunctioned when he felt his tip hit the back of your throat, hips involuntarily thrusting onto your face, your nose rubbing against the dusting of hair above is cock. As soon as he heard you gag he pulled out immediately.

"I'm so sorry are okay okay?" His eyes grew apologetic as he stared at you, worried that he ruined it all for you.

"No Arthur — you can use my mouth"

His eyes blew wide as you took him again, his hand tugging your face onto his cock in a fast rhythm. You could feel his twitching violently against your tougue.

"Fuck I'm so close — You're mouth is so — fuck —"

He shot spurts of white down your throat as he came, it was almost aggressive how his body reacted.

As you pulled of he couldn't help but star at you. The sight of your smudged mascara, swollen lips, he couldnt help but be aroused and guilty at the same time. You hadn't came yet. What use was the research if he didn't make you feel good yet?

"I want to make you feel good too Y/N." He said as he looked at you like a lost puppy.

You exhaled shakily, the words going straight to your core, which by now was so fucking wet that your panties where basically soiled. You nodded like you were under a spell, laying down on the bed as he leaned over you, his mouth finding your chest again, retracing the path of dark blooms.

He was nervous and he didn't try to hide it, which somehow made it better. You could feel it in the way he moved down your torso.

As his lips pressed against the ridge of your hips his eyes locked on yours. The notes resurfacing in his mind: 'eye contact mattered to most people more than they admit' 'the instinct to hide your face or look away when you felt self-conscious was very common and also worth resisting' 'it created distance at a moment when distance was the opposite of what you wanted'.

He dragged your leggings and panties of, watching your face. But it all shifted as he saw how much you were dripping. All the blood went straight to his dick. How could one person be so so ethereal? he thought. It was like witnessing a Goddess.

He pressed a kiss to the soft skin just below your ribs and looked up at you briefly checking, and you nodded.

He started slow. Too slow. It was endearing. Like he had read extensively about the importance of taking his time and was now very committed to it. You appreciated the intention enormously.

As his tongue grazed your puffy clit you let out a soft moan, the sound like honey to his ears, "Is that—" he started.

"Mmhm."

A pause. "What about—", He circled your clit delicately with his tongue.

"Little to the left." you replied, one hand stroking his hair.

"This left or—"

"My left Arthur—"

"Those are the same left—"

"You're very—" you started.

"Thorough?" he murmered against your entrance.

"I was going to say attractive but sure."

He paused. Looked up again with an expression that was trying to stay composed but not managing it. "Say that again."

"Absolutely not."

He kitten licked your mound to the left as the pad of his fingers stroked your hole. "You think I'm attractive."

"I think you're full of yourself—" The noise that suddenly ripped out of you sent vibrations to him.

He found the rhythm, a balance between flicking your clit with his mouth whilst gently pistoning his long fingers in you. Sometimes giving the bundle of nerves a suckle which evidently did something to you.

He moaned like he couldn't get enough, the idea that he was pleasuring you, the whimpers coming from your mouth which grew louder and more frequent, it egged him on so much.

"Arthur — so good, fuck please —"

"Are you close baby?", his voice was smothered in the sounds of your juices as he looked up at you with his dark chocolatey eyes.

"Yea —FUCK Arthur —"

As you came he lets you grip his hair and grind onto his big nose, his tongue lapping up your sweet pussy like it was honey.

His face lifted up the get a peek at you, The way your chest had risen and fell as you were gasping for air, the mess of your hair against the pillow, the beautiful hickeys from his mouth, his teeth, scattered across your body. You were so ethereal.

He laughed, low and warm, and kissed back up your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone, and by the time he reached your throat again the laughter had faded back into something quieter and more intent.

His mouth worked down the side of your neck and you tipped your head and stared at his ceiling, eyes closed, and thought, distantly, that you were in a significant amount of trouble where he was concerned.

He found a spot near the base of your throat and you gasped, louder than you'd meant to — and he stopped immediately.

"So was that good or—"

"Good," you said, quickly. "Very good, don't ever stop—"

He didn't stop.

"Arthur?" you panted staring into his drunken eyes.

He hummed, gaze focused on you, hands stroking the soft skin of your belly.

"I want you so bad Arth—"

He froze, slightly taken aback by the nickname. "You mean..."

"Yes Arth"

His lips parted desperately, "I have condoms."

"Oh I um brought some too — I left them on my powerbank in the living room."

Arthur's mind whent straight back to the research, "No, don't worry, apparently you shouldnt keep them near anything too hot or cold, we can use mine."

He pulled back and reached over you toward the bedside drawer that did not have any electronics in it, which would have been smooth if he hadn't misjudged the distance slightly and had to readjust. You said nothing. You were very kind about it.

"I've got — hang on—" Drawer opening. Some rustling. More rustling. "Okay. Yeah. Got it."

He held up the condom packet like he had prepared for this moment and was ready to execute. You watched him with your chin in your hand.

"Do you want me to—"

"I'm fine," he said. This was fine. He had notes on this.

He tore the packet open cleanly, which went well. Retrieved the condom, correct orientation of course — he'd read about the orientation, he'd specifically read about it — and then began the process of actually putting it on and this was the part where things went sideways.

It happened very fast.

One second it was there. The next second there was an elastic snap and then it was gone.

You both looked at the space where it had been.

"Where did it—" you started.

"I don't—" He looked at his hands. Looked at you. Looked at the general vicinity of the headboard. "It went—"

"I think it went behind the headboard."

More silence. Then you both started belly laughing. You had your hand over your mouth and your shoulders were shaking and Arthur was sitting there with the expression of a man watching his dignity leave the building in real time.

"It pinged," you managed.

"I know it pinged—"

"Arthur it made a sound—"

"I'm aware of the sound it made—" He ran a hand through his hair. Looked at the headboard. Looked back at you. "I have to get it."

"You have to get it," you confirmed, still laughing.

He leaned over and peered behind the headboard with the grim energy of someone conducting a search and rescue operation. You watched his expression from behind your hand. He emerged a moment later, condom retrieved, covered in dust.

"Right, I dont think we can use this one," he said.

"Round two," you said.

"Do not call it that."

"Sorry. Take two."

He opened the second packet from his drawer with slightly more caution this time. This time it went on correctly, no incidents, no projectiles, no sounds of any kind.

He looked at you. You looked at him.

"See," you said. "Fine."

"That did not need to happen," he said.

He exhaled through his nose, and the last of the humiliation dissolved into something warmer, and he leaned down and kissed you, and you were both still smiling into it. It was somehow better than before — the kind of intimacy that only comes from having laughed together at something stupid first.

"We're never speaking of this," he said, against your mouth.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"So um, can I just say something before we, you know?", Arthurs voice came out a little bit high, you knew that he was nervous.

"Of course Arth."

"I just want it to be perfect for you."

You smiled at how earnest he was being. “It doesn’t need to be perfect Arthur, it hust needs to be with you.”

He smiled and kissed you again, your hand moving to his hard aching cock. He understood the signal and lined himself up with your entrance, something hazy and pure in his eyes.

As he sunk into you his gaze never let yours, the new sensation causing you to exhale shakily against his mouth as he bottomed out.

Arthur closed his eyes to ground him self and opened them again, his lashes batting against yours, gosh he looked so beaut like this.

“Are you comfortable?” he murmured against your lips.

“Yes”

The reply was all he needed, he slowly started to shift his hips and grind into you, the feeling of your soaking cunt enveloping him.

You pulled him onto your mouth, slowly swirling your tongue as he started to piston in and out of you, bare skin against bare skin, pant against pant.

“You feel so good —“ he swallowed, his breathing becoming light. You wrapped your legs around him pressing him deep into your cunt, the feeling of his cock hitting that wall causing you to moan.

Arthur felt your moan resonate with his body. The sound flooding his length. He started to grind into that spot fast and faster, panting against your swollen lips, looking into you eyes like he was mesmerised.

“Arthur —”

“Yea —“, his voice was rough.

“Please I need it — faster”

He started thrusting into you with increasing speed, your beautiful sounds soothing him.

“Fuck —”, he felt you clench around him, like you were milking him of his sustenance. his cock twitches in you violently. He realises he was close, but he had to hold it for you.

“Arthur please” you moaned against his jaw.

Arthur slid one of his hands down to your cunt, experimentally rubbing your aching clit. The sound that left you was downright sinful.

“Are you close?”he asked panting against you.

“fuck — yes”

He kept going, the relentless sensation of his cock hitting tag spot in you, his fingers rubbing your clit, it was too much.

You came clenching around his cock milking it dry. He frowned against your neck as he filled up the condom, still inside you. He never wanted to let go.

By the time he kissed back up to your mouth you were both breathing unevenly, his hair was a complete catastrophe from your hands, and you had marks scattered across your collarbone and throat that you'd be explaining to nobody.

He had one of his own just below his ear and another at the curve of his neck and he seemed completely unbothered by this, which you respected.

He hovered over you, foreheads together, both of you catching your breath.

"Was that good?," he asked, for the third time that evening.

"You keep saying that."

"You keep being right there."

Your stomach did something traitorous. You reached up and pushed his hair back from his forehead, mostly just because you wanted to, and he let you, watching you with that quiet, focused look that made you feel like the only thing in the room.

"You're really good at that," you said. Honest, because you were past the point of pretending otherwise.

Something moved through his expression — pleased, a little undone, trying not to show how much it landed. "Yeah?"

"Don't make it weird."

"I'm not making it weird—"

"You're doing the face—"

"What face—"

"The face where you're pleased with yourself but you're trying to look normal about it—"

He kissed you to stop you talking, which was fair enough. You kissed him back and smiled into it and he made a quiet sound that was almost a laugh, and the whole thing was warm and stupid and you were so far gone on him it was embarrassing.

His hand slid to your waist. Then lower, deliberate and slow, watching your face as he went. Your breath caught.

"Still okay?" Low, quiet, right against your mouth.

"Getting better by the second," you said, and pulled him back down.

His ceiling was very white. Arthur had been staring at it for approximately ninety seconds. You were tucked against his side, cheek on his chest, doing that slow, easy breathing that meant you were comfortable and warm and not planning to move anytime soon.

Outside, it had started raining.

"Okay," Arthur said, to the ceiling.

"Okay?," you murmed into his chest.

A pause.

"That was good?," he asked again.

"It was really good," you confirmed.

Another pause. Slightly longer. You could feel him thinking.

"I was nervous," he said eventually.

You tilted your head up to look at him. He was still looking at the ceiling, jaw set slightly like he was being vulnerable and trying to make it look like he wasn't.

"I know," you said gently.

"Was it—" He stopped. "Could you tell?"

"A little. It was endearing."

He made a face that suggested he did not find endearing to be the word he was hoping for. "Brilliant."

"Arthur." You propped yourself up slightly. "It was good. It was genuinely good. Why were you nervous?"

He was quiet for a moment. “I haven't. Done that before."

Oh.

You looked at him properly, and he finally looked back at you, and there was something so vulnerable about his expression that you had to actively resist the urge to say something so sincere it would embarrass both of you.

Instead you just said, "Hey. That's okay," and meant it completely.

"You could have told me," you added.

"I know." A beat. "I didn't want you to—" He made a vague gesture. "Adjust things. Or be weird about it."

"I would not have been weird about it."

"You're not weird about anything, which is almost more intimidating than if you were."

You laughed at that. He looked like he wanted to, but was maintaining the expression of someone working through something important. You let him have it.

"Was there—" he started, then stopped. A different kind of stop. "The bit where I—" He paused again. "The condom."

You immediately buried your face back in his chest. "Oh God."

"yeah."

"It just went."

"I know—"

You were already laughing. The memory of it — the very specific thirty seconds of combined confusion and suppressed laughter that had briefly interrupted the proceedings — was significantly funnier in retrospect than it had been in the moment. "It pinged off."

"I was under pressure—"

"It went behind the headboard—"

"I'm aware of where it went—"

"We had to stop to find it—"

"CAN YOU LET ME HAVE SOME DIGNITY—" He was laughing now. The composure had fully dissolved. He had one arm over his face and was laughing at the ceiling and you were laughing at him laughing and the whole thing was warm and stupid.

"It was fine," you finally managed, breathless. "It happens. It was fine."

"It has never happened to anyone —"

"It absolutely has—"

"Not to me it hasn't—"

"Well, first time for everything." You grinned. He removed the arm from his face and gave you a look that suggested he was not yet ready to find that funny. Then he found it funny. He exhaled and shook his head.

"Can I tell you something," Arthur asked.

"Always."

"I—" He stopped. Started again. "Before tonight. I did research."

You went still. "Sorry?"

"I did research. On all of it." He said it in a measured tone trying to hide how ridiculous the confession was.

“I opened Reddit. Multiple threads. I was on Google. I went on a health website that had an actual article and I read the whole thing."

You stared at him. "You did research."

"I made notes."

The stare continued. "Arthur. You made notes."

"They had subheadings." His face was starting to break into laughter.

You sat up. You needed to be sitting up for this. "They had subheadings."

"I removed them. And then put them back. Because they were helpful. There was a section on foreplay. There was a section on—" he gestured vaguely, "—condom usage, which in retrospect I should have studied harder—"

"YOU HAD A SECTION ON CONDOM USAGE—"

"—I specifically read about the ‘pinching the tip’ technique, which I executed correctly by the way, that part went fine, the problem was external to the notes—"

You were laughing so hard you had to lean on him. He pulled you back down without really thinking about it, arm around your shoulder, and you stayed there, both of you coming down from it slowly.

"The notes helped, to be clear," he said, once he'd gotten himself back. Still smiling. "I stand by the notes."

"Did they have a section on the jaw thing?" you asked. "Because that was—" you made an appreciative sound, "—where did that come from?"

He looked very quietly pleased with himself. "There was a Reddit comment."

"There was a Reddit comment."

"Highly upvoted."

You shook your head slowly, smiling at his ceiling. "You are genuinely such a little nerd.”

"I know," he said unbothered.

“You like it though."

You didn't answer.

Which was, as he had noticed across a month of paying very close attention to you, your version of yes.

a/n - wow that was a LONG one, like reblogs and comments are appreciated, lmk if you wanna be on the taglist 💕💕

BODY PART their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's Arthur's favorite part of his own body is surprisingly his hands. He has long, slender fingers that he knows drive you wild, whether they're tangled in your hair, gripping your hips, or exploring every inch of your skin. On you, he's obsessed with your neck and collarbones. He loves leaving faint marks there, not to claim ownership, but as a secret reminder of your time together that only you'll know about when you're clothed. He's constantly touching your neck when you're together, even in non-sexual contexts, his fingers sometimes tracing your pulse point.

CUM anything to do with cum, basically Arthur has a thing for finishing inside you, feeling the intimacy of that connection. That said, he also loves the visual of pulling out and watching his release on your stomach or back. He finds it incredibly erotic to see you marked by him, even temporarily. He's not particularly messy but enjoys the aftercare of cleaning you up, which often leads to round two. He has a secret fondness for when you taste yourself on his fingers after he's touched you, and he'll kiss you deeply afterward, savoring the combined flavors.

DIRTY SECRET pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs Arthur has a hidden collection of audio recordings of your intimate moments together, only with your enthusiastic consent, of course. Nothing visual, just the sounds of your pleasure. He sometimes listens to them when he's traveling and missing you, finding comfort in the memory. His dirtiest secret is that he once masturbated to one of these recordings while on a video call with you, though you had no idea what he was doing just out of frame. The risk of being caught turned him on immensely.

EXPERIENCE how experienced are they? do they know what they doing? Arthur is more experienced than he lets on, though he's not promiscuous. He's had a few meaningful relationships and some casual encounters, giving him a good understanding of different bodies and preferences. What makes him exceptional is his observational nature, he pays attention to every reaction, every gasp, every shiver, learning exactly what drives you wild. He's particularly skilled at reading your non-verbal cues, often knowing what you want before you do.

FAVORITE POSITION this goes without saying Despite being a bottom, Arthur loves riding you while maintaining control. He enjoys setting the pace, leaning down to kiss you deeply, changing angles to hit his own sweet spot while watching your face. His second favorite is you taking him from behind while he's on his knees, but with his back arched and head turned to maintain eye contact. He likes the vulnerability of the position combined with the intimacy of seeing your reactions.

GOOFY are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc. Arthur's dry British humor often comes out during sex, though never at inappropriate moments. He might make a witty observation about something ridiculous happening outside or quote a line from a show you both love, timing it perfectly when you're between positions. These moments make the experience feel more intimate and less performative. He's also been known to laugh mid-kiss if you do something particularly endearing or silly.

HAIR how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc. Arthur is naturally well-groomed. He keeps his body hair trimmed but not completely removed, maintaining a natural look that he's comfortable with. He's not particularly concerned about "carpet matching drapes" as he keeps his pubic hair neatly trimmed. He's responsive to your preferences though, and will adjust his grooming routine if there's something you particularly like or dislike.

INTIMACY how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect Despite his dominant bottom persona, Arthur is deeply romantic during sex. He maintains eye contact whenever possible, his expressive eyes conveying everything he might not say aloud. He'll often pause mid-act just to kiss you deeply, his hands cupping your face. "You have no idea what you do to me," he might whisper against your lips. For Arthur, sex is never just physical, it's an extension of his emotional connection to you.

JACK OFF masturbation headcanon Arthur doesn't masturbate frequently when you're together, but when he does, it's often in the morning shower. He's efficient about it, leaning against the tiled wall as the warm water cascades over his lean body. He thinks about specific moments with you, particularly times when you've taken control or surprised him in bed. He's not particularly vocal when alone, just soft grunts and heavy breathing as he brings himself to completion.

KINK one or more of their kinks Arthur has a praise kink that goes both ways—he loves complimenting you and watching you react, but he absolutely melts when you praise him. Call him "gorgeous" or "perfect" during sex and he becomes putty in your hands. He also has a thing for semi-public risk, sex in places where you might be discovered but probably won't be. The adrenaline rush heightens everything for him. Additionally, he's into orgasm control, both giving and receiving, finding the prolonged anticipation incredibly arousing.

LOCATION favorite places to do the do While he enjoys the comfort of your shared bed, Arthur gets a thrill from less conventional locations. He's also particularly fond of the kitchen counter, enjoying the combination of domesticity and passion. Once, he initiated something while you were "helping" him film, using the expensive equipment as props... anyway

MOTIVATION what turns them on, gets them going Arthur is turned on by intelligence and wit almost as much as physical touch. A well-timed clever remark or an insightful comment can get him going just as much as a seductive touch. That said, he has a particular weakness for when you take control unexpectedly, pushing him against a wall, initiating when he thinks he's leading, or telling him exactly what you want. The contrast between his usual dominant bottom persona and moments when you completely take over drives him wild.

NO something they wouldn't do, turn offs Arthur won't engage in anything that feels genuinely disrespectful or degrading. While he enjoys power dynamics, hard humiliation is a hard limit for him. He also draws the line at anything non-consensual or involving others without enthusiastic agreement from all parties. Despite his adventurous streak, he needs emotional connection, so purely anonymous encounters hold no appeal for him.

ORAL preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc. Arthur absolutely adores both giving and receiving oral. When going down on you, he's methodical and patient, using his intelligence to learn exactly what makes you gasp. He maintains eye contact almost constantly, his expressive eyes showing his enjoyment as much as yours. Guys, he's a munch, let's be real. When receiving, he's surprisingly submissive, letting you take complete control, his hands often gripping the sheets or your hair. He's not quiet during oral, offering praise and guidance in his characteristic low, husky voice.

PACE are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc. Arthur typically prefers a slower, more deliberate pace that allows for maximum sensation and connection. He enjoys drawing out the experience, building tension gradually until it becomes almost unbearable. That said, he's adaptable and will match your energy if you need something faster or more intense. He particularly likes alternating between slow, deep thrusts and quicker, shallower movements to create varied sensations.

QUICKIE their opinions on quickies, how often, etc. Arthur isn't particularly fond of quickies, preferring to take his time and explore fully. However, he recognizes their practical necessity sometimes and has mastered the art of making them feel special despite their brevity. His approach to quickies is intense and focused, concentrating on the most sensitive areas to ensure mutual satisfaction quickly. He often compensates for the lack of duration with heightened intimacy afterward.

RISK are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc. Arthur is adventurous and willing to experiment within boundaries. He's tried various aspects of BDSM and enjoys incorporating elements of power play into your sex life. He's particularly interested in sensory deprivation and temperature play, finding that limiting one sense enhances others. He's always eager to try new things once, as long as there's open communication and enthusiastic consent from both parties.

STAMINA how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last? Arthur has impressive stamina, able to maintain his energy for multiple rounds with short recovery periods. His lean, athletic build (including those surprising abs) serves him well in endurance. He particularly enjoys extended sessions on lazy days off, sometimes spending hours in bed with you, alternating between intense sex and restful intimacy. He's learned to recognize his own limits and yours, ensuring that your encounters end satisfyingly rather than exhaustingly.

TOYS do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves? Arthur owns a carefully curated collection of high-quality toys that he's more than happy to incorporate into your activities. His favorite is a sleek, remote-controlled vibrator that he enjoys using on you, sometimes keeping the control himself and sometimes surrendering it to you. He also has a particular fondness for silk restraints—not for rough bondage, but for the sensual feeling of being lightly restrained. He's open to trying almost any toy once, viewing them as tools to enhance rather than replace intimacy.

UNFAIR how much they like to tease Arthur is an expert tease, his dry wit and observant nature making him particularly skilled at anticipation-building. He'll send you suggestive texts while you're out with friends, knowing you can't do anything about it until later. During foreplay, he'll bring you to the edge repeatedly, only to back off at the last moment. His favorite technique is using his voice, whispering exactly what he plans to do to you later while you're in a situation where you can't act on it immediately.

VOLUME how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc. Arthur is surprisingly vocal during sex, though in a controlled way. He doesn't scream or yell, but he emits these deep, throaty moans and sharp inhales that are incredibly sexy. He's particularly responsive to specific touches, letting out a soft "fuck" when you hit just the right spot. He also talks a lot during sex, not dirty talk necessarily, but these low, intimate observations like "You feel incredible" or "Right there, gorgeous." His accent becomes more pronounced when he's lost in pleasure, which you find incredibly endearing.

WILD CARD a random headcanon for the character Arthur has a secret fascination with watching you get ready. He loves sitting on your bed, watching you do your skincare routine or pick out clothes. Sometimes this leads to him approaching you from behind, kissing your neck as you're applying moisturizer, his hands sliding around your waist. These spontaneous moments often lead to some of your most passionate encounters, with him bending you over the bathroom counter or lifting you onto the vanity. There's something about the contrast between the domestic routine and sudden passion that drives him absolutely wild.

X-RAY let's see what's going on under those clothes Arthur's lean frame hides a surprisingly impressive cock. He's longer than average with a nice thickness that curves slightly upward, a detail he's somewhat self-conscious about but you find incredibly pleasurable. He's uncut and particularly sensitive there, gasping when you pay special attention to his foreskin. His balls are tight and high when aroused, and he has this habit of cupping them when he's close to orgasm. His modesty about his size is endearing since he has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

YEARNING how high is their sex drive? Arthur's sex drive is closely tied to his emotional state. When he's feeling particularly connected to you, his desire is nearly insatiable. He's not someone who needs sex daily, but when the mood strikes, he's incredibly persistent. He gets turned on by the most mundane things, watching you concentrate on a book, the way you bite your lip when thinking, even just hearing your laugh from another room. He's learned to recognize these surges of desire and will often initiate with subtle touches that gradually become more.