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alifeasvivid · 7 months ago

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Companionship, a UK/nyo!US Firefly AU; Explicit

Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: smut, self-inflicted intoxication, nipple piercings, virginity kink, oral sex, vaginal sex, a faulty degree of self-indulgence Summary: The unresolved sexual tension between Amelia Jones, captain of the firefly class ship Liberty, and high class registered companion, Arthur, finally breaks after an evening at a bar in the Eavesdown docks. Word count: ~8600

Important Notes: if you're not familiar with the TV show Firefly, please read:

Set a future where Earth is dead, humans terraform other planets and travel between them is fairly standard. The show revolves around the crew of Serenity, a firefly class ship, that takes odd jobs to make a living. Sometimes what they do is… a little outside of legal. It's like a sci-fi western about space pirates.

The main thing you need to know is this: registered companions are legal, legitimized sex workers. They have a school and everything and they are considered high status. The only companions ever shown are women, so I've added some extra lore and allowed for men to also take on the job.

With that, please enjoy ^-^

Arthur sits quietly at the bar, perched elegantly with one leg crossed over the other, merely observing. He sips from a glass of whiskey—not exactly the quality he was once accustomed to on Xenon, but the slight burn is pleasant enough all the same.

He hasn’t dared to drink in public in a very long time, but with the rest of the crew here, with the Captain here, he feels safe enough to have this small indulgence. His clothes—a black sleeveless top which bares his midriff, including his dangling, gold navel ring with three sparkling red garnets, accompanied by loose fitting pants and open jacket both of a rich emerald silk with gold embroidery and dark red trim—certainly make him stand out in a dive bar at the Eavesdown docks, to say nothing of the gold bracelets and chains which adorn his hands that indicate his profession, yet no one bothers him.

He smiles to himself as he watches Kiku positively trounce Greta at a game of pool, while Feliciana cheers Greta on, giving her a kiss every time she misses a shot.

Alfred is throwing darts with some other bar patrons and, despite being obviously buzzed, is doing rather well if the cash his opponents keep shoving into an empty glass while scowling is any indication.

Meanwhile, Gilbert, Matthew, and Amelia are huddled around a table and they’ve each taken a couple shots already and it’s starting to show. The trio laughs raucously at periodic intervals, but even in their collective inebriated state, each of them looks up now and then to survey and assess their surroundings and also keep eyes on the other crew members… and Arthur.

They’re quite obvious about it, as well as their myriad weapons, which is likely why no one is bothering him, not to mention the fact that his calibre shown by his particular jewelry indicates that his rates are far above what anyone in this bar could afford.

When Amelia next looks up, Arthur deliberately locks eyes with her, holding her tipsy blue gaze for too long to say it’s inadvertent, but even though her cheeks are quite pink, she’s clearly not as drunk as Gilbert and Matthew are. Of course she wants to stay alert, to protect her people if necessary.

In watching her, Arthur notices that he isn’t the only one doing so. A group of men—they seem to be other travelers—prod at one of their rather handsome compatriots with urgent whispers and covert gestures toward Amelia. Arthur notes that he is the same one Amelia had been speaking with rather amiably earlier in the evening.

Arthur seethes, but stays outwardly unfazed and sips his drink. How gallingly hypocritical of him to be so possessive of her. Not only for the fact that he is a registered companion, but she has given him no claim on her. When anyone shows interest in her, he often tries to smugly console himself that even if she took them to bed, they could never satisfy her the way he could. It’s small consolation which primarily ends up only making him yearn desperately for the opportunity.

She has never brought anyone onto the ship, though there have been a few times that she lagged behind in returning to it while Gilbert and Matthew snickered to each other over it. Arthur has no actual information on any of her lovers or if she even has any, but she must. How could she not?

When Amelia gets up to get another drink, the man follows her, sliding some cash to the barman before Amelia can and beaming winningly at her. Her face reads as surprised and of course she is. She always is whenever someone shows sexual interest in her. Arthur has never met anyone that stunningly beautiful who is simultaneously so oblivious to it.

But then… that’s part of the reason he has fallen for her so irrevocably. She’s so artless and straightforward, often more so than she should be and Arthur can’t help but find it incredibly refreshing.

She’s talking to the man, possibly even flirting though it’s difficult for Arthur to tell with her back slightly turned to him.

Deciding he would rather not subject himself to the sight, Arthur pays his tab and moves toward the door. Sod it all.

“Kiku,” he signals to the pilot. “I think I’ll return to the ship. You lot will be along soon, yes?”

Kiku nods, “Yes, within the hour. Are you alright, Arthur-san?” they ask.

Arthur nods curtly. “Yes, only a bit of unease in my stomach. Must be this very fine whiskey. I just need to have a lie-down.” When he steps outside, he takes a deep breath. The air of the docks is not pleasant, per se, but to Arthur it will always smell like freedom. The night air is cool, but his body burns, the spark lit by Amelia. Something must be done. For the sake of his sanity.

Amelia notices Arthur leaving and internally sighs with relief. He insists on wearing his fine clothes and all that gold at all times, even to a seedy dockside bar. Even she has the good sense not to wear her brown duster in certain places. Arthur should take cues from any of the crew really; for example: her well-fitted tan breeches tucked into well-worn brown leather boots and fitted dark blue shirt are much more appropriate for this setting than all that gorgeous green silk he had on.

She smiles awkwardly at the guy trying to flirt with her. He had been decent company before, but his welcome had worn thin with her well before he approached her just now. Even while a bit tipsy like she is, she knows she wants nothing to do with him. “Listen. I’m really flattered and all, but we’re leaving in no more than an hour. I’ve got cargo that needs to get where it’s going.”

The guy looks miffed. He pouts. That’s only cute when Arthur does it, she thinks, especially since he’s never aware that he’s doing it.

“C’mon. I’m sure you could talk your captain into staying ’til daybreak. He’s gotta sleep it off, anyway,” he nods in the direction of Gil and Matthew.

Amelia grits her teeth. This goddamn bastard is now about five seconds from getting his teeth knocked out. “Say again,” she prompts.

“Your captain—”

She grabs him by his shirt collar and pulls him down to glare directly in his eyes. “First of all, piss pot, I already said no. Second. I’m the captain. I say where and when we go and I say we’re leaving right now and you can go to hell. Matthew!” she calls over to her first mate, “We’re leaving, pack it in.” She shoves the guy away from her.

Matthew stands up and signals to Greta, who takes Feliciana’s hand and hurries her to the door. Kiku walks calmly over to Alfred, collects his winnings and takes him by his shirt sleeve while he gloats and waves at his opponents. Gilbert follows all of them, followed by Matthew.

“Heh. I see how it is,” the man spits bitterly. “Guess it must be pretty nice having that whore waiting for you. Is that how he pays his fare?”

Amelia doesn’t think twice before decking him. “That ain’t none of your goddamn business,” she growls. “And you gotta be some ‘specially ignorant kinda back-birth to talk about companions like that.” She storms outside, hops onto the back of the four-wheeler with the her crew, and fumes all the way back to Liberty.

The night air cools her rage, but not her desires. Take-off calms her nerves; sailing through the black is where she feels most at ease, but still leaves a smoldering want. She would never—could never make Arthur service her to pay his rent, it wouldn’t be right to do that to anyone. She doesn’t want to be his client anyhow, she wants him to want her.

—

Arthur takes a long sip from his tea as he lets the memories of evening dissipate. The door to his shuttle is securely locked and he lounges freely, barely clothed, on his bed. The drugs in the tea will kick in shortly.

A usual, small dose of the potent aphrodisiac will render the drinker unbearably aroused and more open to suggestion; it is commonly used among companions for heightened pleasure, for clients who are for whatever reason a tad shy, and even to practice mild hypnosis. More than the usual dose will cause not only unbearable, ecstatic arousal, but also vivid fantasies bordering on hallucinations. Arthur has carefully dosed his tea with enough of the substance to reach this state.

Companions are trained to essentially “lucid dream” under its influence and Arthur intends to put that to good use.

It’s the only remedy he has at the moment for the all-consuming desire he feels for Amelia.

He can’t actually have her, by the rules he himself set down upon renting the shuttle on her firefly-class transport ship. And, his sensible side knows, those rules are best left in place.

He wants her in his bed anyway, not as a client, but as his.

Arthur is well-suited to the work and life of a companion; from a rather early age, his blood just seemed to run hot and he applied at the Academy in hopes of learning to control his rampant passions. Academy training had quite successfully done this and he remains among the highest ranking graduates ever to pass through those hallowed halls, so to speak. It was the best decision he could have made and he enjoys his job thoroughly. He prides himself on his expertise and his ability to turn his own desires on and off at will.

Amelia has robbed him of that last point of pride. She had vexed him at first with her brash demeanor, loud voice, outspoken opinions and sense of humor that sometimes borders on crude… yet now he loves all of it. All of her. What had vexed him before now charms him in the context of her warm laugh, her starry blue eyes, and her fierce loyalty and kindness. To say nothing, of course, of her perfect breasts, slender waist and strong thighs.

He wants her more than he has ever wanted anyone.

And he cannot turn it off. And he cannot make her his. And he cannot stand the thought of her in someone else’s arms.

But he can alleviate his ache.

As the drugs take effect, his mind constructs the most wonderful fantasies…

Arthur raps his knuckles gently against the door of her bunk. He knows full well that this would better done in his bed in the shuttle, but Amelia would feel like a client there.

“Yeah?” he hears her muffled voice call up.

“It’s me,” he says. “May I come in?”

A slight pause, yes of course she would hesitate, give herself a moment to try and put up her defenses.The most basic of Arthur’s seduction skills lie in reading people and Amelia is so utterly incapable of concealing her emotions that it is painfully easy to see how badly she wants him as well.

“Yeah,” she finally replies.

When Arthur climbs down, she is standing by her sink. Her chin-length strawberry blond hair is held back with a cloth headband so that she can wash her face. She’s wearing only an old, worn out, blue shirt and light, loose fitting pants he suspects she only just put on since they are backwards.

She pats her face dry with a towel and knocks the sink back into place with a single bump of her hip. She suspects nothing of his intentions. “What’s up?” she asks.

Arthur contemplates responding, but instead he simply closes the distance between them, places his fingers delicately along her jawline. He looks down at her intently, though she is barely shorter than he is, and kisses her, softly, just barely, but so passionately it makes his own head spin. He pulls away, hardly even lingering. It’s deliberately unsatisfying. She’s impulsive, he knows that too well, and she won’t be able to resist responding to his challenge.

And she doesn’t. Her hands leap up to cup his face and pull him into hungry kiss. Her lips are full and warm and perfect.

Arthur pushes the headband off, freeing her hair for him to run his fingers through. He quickly gains control of the kiss and backs her into the wall of her bunk. He releases her only long enough to latch his mouth to her neck. A companion should never mark anyone, but Arthur couldn’t care less at the moment and he nibbles and sucks a deep red bruise onto her skin. Everything is intuitive, based on her sighs and mewls and the way she tugs on his hair and that is more than enough. It’s everything.

“Ar-Arthur, mmm,” she moans, wrapping her leg around his waist so that his cock is pressed against her center and she gasps.

He groans, grinding against her, and pulls away to look at her, admire her with her pupils dilated and her face flushed. His thumbs caress her cheeks and he plants tiny kisses on her face and in her hair. She smells like heaven. “What do you want, Captain? You know you must tell me.”

Arthur absolutely knows what she would say in reality, she’d curse at him and tell him he knows goddamn well what she wants. But this isn’t reality and his mind wants to hear her say all her desires out loud.

She purrs when one of his hands slips under her shirt and the other into the plain cotton panties she had been trying to conceal. “God… I want you, Arthur. I want you to be mine. I want you to love me. Only me.”

Perfect. He slips one hand between her legs, savoring the intense heat and pressing one finger against her clit, rubbing in slow circles and drinking her soft cry. “And?” he prompts.

“I need you. I need you to make me come,” she practically whines as she squeezes leg tighter around his waist, encouraging him to slip his finger inside her. “I need you inside me, wanna ride your cock and—AH!—mmmmm, Arthur…”

A companion would never sate their client up against a wall like this, quickly and unceremoniously, with only their fingers. But Arthur doesn’t feel like a companion right now. For the first time in so long, he feels enslaved to his own passions; he could not stop himself from taking her even if he wanted to. He slips another finger into her, rubbing that spot and watching her intently as she gasps and clings to him. In all the years Arthur has been a companion, watching someone fall apart like this has never felt so brilliant. Gods, how he loves her.

“Oh fuck, Arthur,” she groans as she trembles through her orgasm. She clenches around his fingers and gushes into his palm as her head knocks back against the wall. “God yes…”

Arthur’s cock twitches against the fine silk of his robes. “Perfect,” he rasps, mouth suddenly parched and thirsty for her. He carefully withdraws his fingers from her over-sensitized entrance and traces them over his lips before drawing them into his mouth. “Mmmh,” he hums. She tastes divine.

Amelia makes a helpless, yet utterly sinful noise in the back of her throat. “Smug bastard,” she curses him with no malice and pushes him back onto her bed, diving after him—pausing only to remove her shirt and underwear. Her breasts are so full and perfect that there have been times in reality that he has barely restrained himself from begging her to let him touch.

She straddles him and makes quick work of his robes. “One nice thing about these fancy threads: they’re easy to get you out of. Though that’s the point, ain’t it?” She winks, but her eyes then widen slightly once she reveals his cock. “Fuck,” she mutters appreciatively.

His own lucid fantasy goes topsy turvy for moment when she engulfs the head in her mouth. He moans when she interlaces her fingers with his and gazes up at him. How her eyes manage to convey such innocence with his cock in her mouth is beyond him.

Amelia steadily works more and more of him into her mouth, humming and moaning as she goes. She’s unpolished, unpracticed and, gods, does it feel so fucking good. She gets about halfway down before she stops, drags her lips back up and sucks on the head, tongue probing the tip as if to push inside.

Arthur moans. It’s been a long time since anyone has done this for him. “Oh Amy,” he sighs as she kisses him over and over.

“Tastes good,” she murmurs, holding his shaft up tease his sac with her tongue.

“It’s only-ah-fair that I return the favor. Come here.” He motions to his own chest.

She slowly, almost hesitantly, moves over him until she is straddling his face. There could not be a more beautiful sight in the whole ‘verse than her glistening, swollen, pink lips just above him like this. “Please,” she begs, “Oh, Arthur—”

Then there’s a gentle knock on the door. The real door. The door to his shuttle. The tea has worn off enough that Arthur is yanked out of his dream and he groans in frustration, running a hand over his face. His body is somehow both spent and still thrumming. “One minute,” he calls out, trying to make his voice sound normal. At least he knows the drug is actually wearing off. He splashes his face with water from the basin and hopes he looks normal.

He pulls a robe on, tying it as he goes to open the door. He prays that it isn’t her on the other side, but of course, when he opens it…

Fuck.

“Hey.”

There she is. Of course. Of course. Peering up at him from the lower step at the shuttle’s port inside the ship. Her eyes are clear now, it’s been long enough that the alcohol has run its course.

Amelia looks Arthur up and down, both concerned and intrigued by his disheveled state. She blushes slightly. His bright green eyes look wild and his hair is even more mussed than usual and though he’s obviously trying to hide it, his breathing is labored. “Uh. Are you okay?”

Arthur laughs almost hysterically. “Yes. I’m fine. I was just— Sod it all.” He runs his hand over his face again. Surely, this is another dream, somehow. “Captain. I need you to slap me. Across the face. As hard as you can.”

Amelia chuckles awkwardly. “Why? Did you do something to deserve it? Arthur, seriously, are you okay?”

That response is enough to convince him this is no longer a dream. If it had been, she would have slapped him merely because he told her to do it. “Ha. I don’t know. Possibly.” He takes a deep breath. “My apologies, Captain. I was, ah, performing a ritual and it is very… immersive. What is it you need?”

Amelia knows she had a pretty good made-up reason that she can’t remember now because he looks so sexy like that. She wants him so badly sometimes that, despite knowing how wrong it would be and that he would definitely say no, she has actually considered asking him if she can become one of his clients. She could never afford it anyway. But after that idiot in the bar earlier, she just wants to be near Arthur. “I, uh… well if you’re busy, it can wait until later.”

Arthur is just on the edge of being furious with her when he sees the raw need behind her uncharacteristic shyness; it’s too intense to ignore as he usually does and it leaves him momentarily speechless.

“Anyway,” she mumbles. “Breakfast is in about two hours.” An ache throbs in her whole body. She turns to leave, go back to her bunk so she can try alleviate it. She’s so used to seeing Arthur looking composed and regal and now to see him looking like he has just been… working… it makes her want to take a walk outside. In space. With no suit. Just to cool off… and be vaporized so that she won’t have to live knowing she can never have him.

“Captain,” Arthur follows her and snatches her hand, pulling her into him. He runs his thumb over her cheek, admiring her flushed skin and parted lips. He lightly presses a kiss to her temple. “You’re bloody terrible at concealing your emotions. Your thoughts. As much as I adore that about you,” his hand slips to the small of her back, “it drives me mad.”

Amelia gasps, frozen in place. “Wh-what?”

His fingers clasp her chin and he drinks in her every minute expression. “How am I meant to hold back from taking what I want when your desires are written all over your face?”

Amelia stands very still, stunned, though her hands grab onto his robe like he might disappear at any moment. She searches his face for some sign that he’s teasing, but all she sees are his vivid green eyes and dark brows, and a pink tinge to his fair, freckled cheeks.

There’s a glimmer of gold fire in his gaze this time that sends a shiver through her body, culminating in the curling of her toes and a deep, visceral throb between her legs.

Arthur finds her confusion to be almost adorable. She is apparently as oblivious as she has always seemed if the revelation of his feelings is truly so startling. He can feel her fingers grip more tightly to his robe and her face flushes pink, far more than what the alcohol had done. Her eyes have darkened and where his hands cup the sides of her face, he can feel her pulse racing. Holding her just like this while she looks at him like that is far better than the lucid dream she took him from. “Captain, I—”

The delicate gold chains of his bracelets tinkle in her ears. “Yes,” she says instantly. Amelia palms the back of his neck and kisses him fiercely. It’s clumsy and they don’t fit at first, until she cedes control to him gratefully, letting him ravish her lips with his, with his teeth, and claim her mouth expertly with his tongue.

Hunger consumes Arthur and he cannot taste her enough. He needs more of her. But he also needs air and so does she and they are both panting when he breaks the kiss.

Amelia looks past his shoulder to the open door of his shuttle and winces with the reality of situation asserts itself. How could she forget? “Arthur, I… I thought— You said you’d never service me or any of my crew and I… well, I can’t really aff—”

Arthur silences her with a shorter and more decisive kiss. “What I said stands. I will never service you as a companion, but if you wish it as I do, I would be your lover.”

A flood of desire rushes through Amelia’s body, followed quickly by a flash of nervousness.

Arthur catches that instant of apprehension, but doesn’t let her go. She’s strong enough to snap a man’s neck with her bare hands, if she doesn’t want to be there, she will go. Instead he says, “I’m certainly not demanding it. Simply say the word and I will forget this ever happened.” at least until I am once more alone in my bed, he thinks.

Amelia shakes her head and then leans her forehead against his chest. “I couldn’t forget, so it’s… better to stop now before… before I say somethin’ stupid.”

Arthur’s brow creases. “Such as?”

Amelia swallows back a few tears and lifts her head. “What would it mean to you?” she asks, but then continues anyway, just barreling towards sure stupidity. “Because I’m in love with you, Arthur. That probably sounds real naive to you, but it’s the truth. I’m in love with you and your job doesn’t even bother me, truly, but if I go in there with you right now, I want to still be a whole person when I come out again.”

Arthur blinks, but then pulls her body flush with his. He lightly dusts his lips against hers. “I fear you stole my heart quite some time ago, Captain, and so you are more than whole. I could never make you less so. Nor would I attempt such a thing.” He releases her just enough to pull her toward the shuttle, kissing the back of her hand. “I love every part of you. Please allow me to demonstrate.”

Amelia’s knees go wobbly and she nods dumbly and follows him. She jumps slightly when the door whooshes shut and locks behind her. It has been awhile since she has really looked at Arthur’s shuttle and how richly it is furnished, how a sweet, woody incense perfumes it. The bed is made, covered with exquisite blue, green, and gold fabrics and just looking at it makes her shiver.

Arthur notices her fixation on the bed, assuming that it makes her uncomfortable to know what he does there. This is why, in his dream, he had imagined them in her bunk. “The bedding is clean,” he quips teasingly. “Or we can go to your quarters, if you’d rather.”

Amelia bites her lip. “I’m fine here,” she grins giddily. “I told you, your job doesn’t bother me. Used to, I ain’t gonna lie, but…” she blushes bright red, “sometimes, knowing you’re in here with a client, doing… your job really, uh, gets me going, you know?”

Arthur laughs, but is very intrigued by this new information. “Does it,” he asks rhetorically. “That’s very good to know.” He takes her hands and guides her toward the bed. He holds out his own hands to her, palms down, displaying his jewelry. “These are given to, and worn by, every registered companion who has graduated from the Academy. There are very few circumstances under which it is considered acceptable to remove them.”

Amelia nods, tracing the chains on them. “I’ve seen them on other companions before.”

Arthur reaches out and tilts her face to look at him. “I would like for you to take them off.”

“Oh,” Amelia breathes. She carefully removes the bracelets, brushing her fingers over the newly exposed skin, which is fairer even than the rest of Arthur. She hands him the jewelry and he places it in an ornate box.

With his hands now bare, Arthur molds them to Amelia’s hips, but only to remove the holster that perpetually encircles them. He lets it fall to the floor with a heavy thunk. When he tugs at the hem of her shirt, he sees that nervous look on her face again and she reflexively grabs his wrists. “Amelia… what’s the matter? I shall say it again if you need me to, but we do not have to do this.”

Amelia chews on her lip. She has to tell him. “No. It’s not that. I want to. I want to so bad. But I… I never have before.”

Arthur internally laments her grammar for the thousandth time, only this time he genuinely does not understand what she said. “You never wanted to before?”

Amelia squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “I’ve never, um, gone to bed with anyone before,” she exhales very quickly. “I mean I was a kid and then there was the war and then there’s running this goddamn ship and then I fell in love with you and didn’t want anyone else anymore so… I guess I just never got around to it.”

Some unseen force tightens pleasantly around Arthur’s heart and also his groin. He could almost laugh. All the time he spent simmering in his jealousy and now he finds out that she comes to him utterly untouched. He fervently kisses her cheek, then under her jaw, then her neck. “If you had any idea,” he mutters raggedly against her ear, “how bloody ecstatic I am to hear that, you’d think I was mad.” He bites down on her neck and nibbles and sucks a large mark onto her skin.

Amelia laughs, but it just comes out as a puff of air. “I already think you’re ‘mad.’”

Arthur kisses and admires the mark he just made. “It’s wretched of me, given the circumstances, but the thought of you with anyone else is intolerable to me.”

A noticeable shiver runs down Amelia’s spine and her knees turn to jelly again. She complies this time when Arthur removes her shirt and her bindings.

He plants kisses over her chest and shoulders and cups her breasts in his hands, holds them as if they are fruits whose ripeness is under consideration. A proven test: when he squeezes them, she moans; they are ripe and sweet. In continuing to undress her, Arthur notices that she has rather a lot of scars. She gets injured quite regularly and she is a war veteran, but somehow he never thought they’d be so visible. On the central planets, the technology exists to completely heal wounds with no scars at all. He traces along them with his fingertips. “I bet there are stories for each one of these.”

Amelia hums. Her mind is slipping into a haze from all the pleasure of being adored. “Most of ‘em are from the war,” she says, but then points to a fresher one. It’s a healed bullet wound on her lower abdomen. “Got this one saving your sorry ass though,” she teases with a wink.

Arthur scoffs. “Bloody admirable that you can be so cavalier about it,” he drolls sarcastically. Memories of that day are painful for him even now. He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispers, “I thought I’d lost you. We all thought we’d lost you.”

Amelia caresses his cheek, her heart fluttering since he hadn’t seemed so affected at the time. “Never. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Arthur drops to his knees before her; his hands busy themselves with her belt, trousers, and boots while his lips give his gratitude to that scar. He removes her boots along with her trousers, snaps the elastic band on her plain cotton panties and then removes those too. He places a kiss on her stomach and admires her. She is completely uncharted territory and his every brush against her skin elicits such delightful reactions.

Amelia trembles as Arthur rests his head on her hip and his breath fans over her skin. “Your turn,” she breathes, tugging pointedly on his robe.

Arthur stands, reluctant to let her go at all. Her body is so lovely, as lovely as all of her, more so for her life being etched all over it. He kisses her, gripping her waist while she unties the sash holding his robe closed. As the fabric slips from his shoulders and falls to the floor, revealing him to her entirely, Arthur feels truly naked for the first time in a long time and he relishes it.

Amelia’s eyes widen when she sees the twin gold rings, accented with bright red rubies, pierced through his nipples. She licks her lips subconsciously and slips her respective index fingers through each one, giving them an experimental tug.

Arthur grunts softly which apparently encourages her because she tugs just a little harder and twists them slightly. “Oh yes, Amy,” he moans, “yes yes, harder.”

Amelia stalls at the nickname, but only because it surprises her how much she likes it. She watches his face intently as she does as he asked: pulls the rings harder and twists them further.

Arthur’s eyes roll back and he bites his lip. “Ahhh yes, love, that’s bloody brilliant.”

Amelia notices his hips jerk toward her and she feels his erection brush against her stomach. Her breath catches and she steadies herself. Her hands glide appreciatively over his chest, occasionally flicking the rings, but she avoids looking down at first. She had known he would be beautiful, as all companions are, but this is a little ridiculous, really. His light freckles dust his skin down to his shoulders and along his arms and the rest of him is flawless and fair. His body is toned, muscles well-defined with just a bit of cushion, all evidence of the strength and style with which she has seen him fight. After admiring him for a moment, she finally dares to look down.

Arthur follows her gaze and it’s rather endearing really, how she seems to need to prepare herself to look at all of him. Her hands on him are both reverent and curious. It is so deeply gratifying how she gasps and her eyes widen when she finally drops her gaze below his waist, so gratifying that he moans low and loud in the back of his throat, though her reaction does beg the question, “Have you never seen a naked man before?”

Amelia squirms, both from the question and from how pretty his cock is, long and so thick and she can’t help but run her finger over it, from base to tip, feeling it twitch and harden further. Without looking up at him, she answers quietly, “I have… there’s no time for modesty in war and all, but… no, not in a situation like this.”

Arthur’s grip tightens involuntarily on her hips. “Fuck,” he mutters emphatically, mostly to himself. He draws them against his and groans at how they fit together almost exactly just like this. He kisses her neck and nips at the shell of her ear. “I’m going to ruin you,” he promises.

Amelia’s heart pounds in her brain as she melts in his arms. “As if ya haven’t already,” she whispers breathlessly, head spinning as his cock presses between her thighs.

Arthur sits on the end of the bed, feet still on the floor. He nudges one knee between her legs, just to keep them apart, as she stands in front of him. He presses his lips to the slight swell of her stomach just below her navel and caresses her thighs, tickles them really judging by how she squirms, moving ever inward. Upward. Until his elegant fingers are ever so lightly brushing her lips.

Amelia whimpers and braces herself by gripping his shoulders. “Arthur…”

“You’re shaking,” he says, letting his other hand rests gently on her waist. “I’ve hardly touched you. I wager you’re already wet for me as well, hmm?” He dips one finger in further and is rewarded with slick, silky heat which spills over now and he uses his fingers to coat her with it.

“Please, Arthur!” she begs, clenching her hands tighter on his shoulders. Her legs threaten to collapse. His touch is so different, so much better than touching herself.

Withdrawing his hand, Arthur licks his finger and moans. She tastes absolutely divine and it makes him crave more of her. He cups his palm over her mound and presses that same finger inside her.

“Ahh!” Amelia screams, nearly doubling over. She sobs as her fingers thread into his hair.

“You’re so sensitive,” Arthur murmurs teasingly, but he couldn’t be more pleased about it. He inserts another finger just to hear her cry out again and she doesn’t disappoint. She’s so tight and his cock twitches at the mere thought of her wet heat wrapped around him, the thought of her coming undone with his cock inside her.

Amelia’s moans and sighs and whines as his fingers thrust into and scissor her open. She feels so full just from that, but then he removes them again and pulls her into his lap.

Arthur wraps his arms around her. The new angle has her breasts directly in front of him and he wastes no time in pinching her nipples, twisting them and making her cry out, the same as she had done for him. When he can’t resist any longer, he nips one with his teeth before wrapping his lips around it and sucking fervently.

“Fuck!, fuck, Arthur oh~” She holds the back of his head with both hands. “Please, don’t stop, don’t—ah!”

After creating several deep red marks, Arthur switches to give her other breast the same treatment, only this time, he simultaneously slips his hand between her legs again. If he hadn’t believed her before, he certainly knows now that she is a virgin. He has the absolute joy of being her first. If he has any say in the matter, he’ll be her only.

Amelia can’t think straight. Pleasure slowly coils tighter and tighter inside her and the spring is set to snap, but the second before it does, Arthur draws away, taking the pleasure and Amelia’s breath with him. “You! You goddamn—! Agh!” She slaps her hand over her mouth, abashed, but the sudden deprivation is maddening and the smirk on his face is infuriating—softened only by enamored look in his eyes.

Arthur laughs and falls back onto the mattress, leaning up on his elbows. “Don’t worry, Captain, I have very little intention of denying you. Now come here.” She moves to lie on top of him and he shakes his head. “No, love. Put your knees on either side of my head.”

She blushes brightly when she realizes what he intends to do and a thrill jolts through her and if not for her frustration, she might have protested. Instead, she crawls up the mattress next to him, kisses his lips once and then does as he instructed. The vulnerable position leaves her wobbly until Arthur’s warm, wide hands begin massaging her thighs.

Arthur can’t help that he practically salivates. The way she trembles above him, her musky scent and the wet sheen on her pretty, pink lips all turn his hunger ravenous. Here is yet another thing which pales his dream by comparison, especially knowing that he is the only one besides herself and perhaps a doctor to ever see this part of her. “You are sublime,” he hums against her silken center. “A little lower though, please, love.” He keeps a firm grip on her thighs as she eases closer. “That’s it… mmm, just like that.” Arthur nuzzles his nose against her, randomly darting his tongue out.

Amelia yelps and bends forward almost involuntarily, bracing herself against the headboard of the bed. “Ahh! Arthur! Ar— oh fuck!”

Arthur smirks and his cock twitches at hearing her call his name like that. He massages her with his tongue and runs it over her clit. It’s his first real taste of her and he is immediately addicted.

“Ar—ah~ Arth—ohh,” Amelia babbles. She can’t even pick out individual sensations as Arthur licks and sucks on her. The most she can discern are his hands squeezing harder on her thighs and the soft, delighted moans that get pressed against her center. Other than that, his ministrations are just a blur of pleasure that leave her shaking and gripping the headboard for dear life. “Ple—plea… ahhh fuck!”

Arthur mentally smirks as her hips rock minutely back and forth, she’s most likely not even aware of what she’s doing and he certainly isn’t about to stop her. Her pussy becomes increasingly wet until his nose and chin are as coated as she is. The throb in his cock is proportionally increasingly difficult to ignore and Arthur focuses his attention on her clit until all her muscles tighten and her thighs threaten to crush his skull, though he remains undeterred.

Amelia cries and whimpers and sobs broken syllables of Arthur’s name as she comes. Nothing she has ever done to herself has made her feel like this. When the ecstasy begins to subside, it leaves her shaking and she just barely manages not to collapse on Arthur, instead falling to the bed on her back next to him.

Arthur pants as heavily as she does when she moves off of him. Not from lack of air, but from the effort it took not to climax right along with her though he hadn’t even touched himself. He moves to lie beside her on his side. He throws his leg over hers, the one nearest to him. This presses his cock against her hip and he rocks against her the way she had against his mouth. He trails his fingertips over her flushed skin, kissing her shoulder. He cannot recall ever seeing her look this… happy. It makes his heart swell. “Liked that, did you?”

Amelia takes a deep breath only to make an affirmative little growl, vaguely nodding her head. She shivers from him grinding against her. As good as she feels, she is far from sated and her body squeezes tight around an emptiness that had only been theoretical before now: an emptiness that Arthur is mere inches from filling. But also… “Give me a minute, I’ll return the favor… although I ain’t promisin’ to be any good at it.” She still wants to try.

Arthur groans at the idea. If he lets her, it will be the end of him… at least for the time being. “No,” he murmurs, moving over her. He spreads her legs apart, rubs his palm just below her navel. He dips down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on him and with well-practiced ease, he opens a small pot on the bedside table. He scoops some of the clear gel inside onto his fingers and coats his cock with it—all without breaking the kiss.

Amelia gasps when his lips smudge hot against her neck and something cool presses against her pussy. “Arthur~” His fingers slip easily inside of her and it’s not enough. Not nearly. “Please. Please, I need—”

“I know,” he rasps, lining himself up to her. He teases her with just the head of his cock. “I do too.” As hard as it is, he reminds himself to be gentle, to move slowly. He draws back and scissors his fingers inside her, stretching her as much as he can. “It will likely hurt,” he warns.

Amelia stares right at him, though she knows her face is bright red. “Not… too much I think. Feliciana helped me find this… well… it’s a thing. And. Ya know. It’s not as big as you are, but…”

Arthur’s brain latches onto the thought of her in her bunk, fucking herself with a toy, probably thinking about him and he kisses her fiercely, if only to make her stop talking about it. In that same moment, he sheathes himself all the way inside her. The noise—somewhere between a grunt and a cry—that bursts out of him forces him to break the kiss. He holds himself as still as possible over her, watching her face intently.

Amelia breathes, makes herself relax. It does hurt, but it’s not exactly unpleasant, especially with that emptiness now completely filled. Her body responds to him instinctively, adjusting, opening for him, getting wetter than she has ever been before. She looks down, smiling giddily and then back up at him. His gaze is dark and hungry and makes her walls flutter around him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He won’t be able to hold still any longer and then, gods help him, she wiggles her hips. As if instantly forgetting every lesson he learned at the Academy, he begins moving inside her unceremoniously and every inch of her around him is his whole world and he fits inside her perfectly. “Amy, oh love, yes,” he moans, managing to keep his pace slow, just to feel her.

Whatever pain there had been dissipates as Arthur moves. She chokes on everything she tries to say, particularly when he calls her like that; he sounds so reverent. She wraps her arms and legs around him, sighing and mewling as he thrusts harder. Then he strikes her in just the right place, that spot she’d never quite been able to reach on her own. She screams in pleasure and clings tight to Arthur like she’ll drown in that pleasure if she doesn’t hold onto him. “Ar—oh ple—Arth—ah, there, there oh yes,” she babbles.

Pride, triumph really, surges in his chest; no one else could ever make her feel like this, could strike her again and again and again until she’s almost in tears from ecstasy. And he’ll see it to it that no one else will even have the chance to try. He focuses on her pleasure because if he doesn’t, the pulsating squeeze of her body around his cock would be too much, even for an experienced companion like him. It pays off when her body tenses around him and her back bows, arching herself into him. “Yes, love. Come on my cock, ah gods, yes that’s it. Let me feel you.”

Amelia cries, though no sound comes out. She desperately bucks against him as her orgasm takes her under and then blasts her into stars. It has never felt like this before and now she’ll never be able to live without it. She’ll never be able to live without Arthur.

Arthur leans down to kiss her neck, though it’s more a smudging of his lips against her skin, up to bite her earlobe and purr against the shell of her ear, “Good girl.” He has managed to breathe enough to regain some control over himself. He continues rocking into her, slowly, but driving, intent on making her do that again. He presses himself to her so that the cool gold rings adoring his nipples rub against hers. “Good girl. Will you come for me again?”

Amelia gasps at the slight tugging motion, head swimming in bliss. She would have kicked his ass from here to Boros any other time for calling her that, but in this moment, it only has the tension coiling in her belly once again and it feels too good for her to even wonder how it’s possible. Arthur is just making her do it—hitting that spot with deadly accuracy. It’s mere seconds before she’s sobbing, the tension snapping and taking her under once more. She only drowns this time, but it’s still bliss, absolute bliss.

“Oh Amy,” Arthur praises, “my good girl.” He wants to make her come over and over and it’s clear that her body might be capable of that, but dear gods, he’s on the verge of losing it again.

Her chest heaves as the tension washes away and she looks up at Arthur’s flushed face, it’s clear he’s only hanging on by a thread. His skin is hot and sticky as though he’s going to melt into her; she wants that. She reaches up and brushes her hands over his face, runs her fingers through his hair. “Your turn,” she says on a happy sigh. “Wanna feel you too.”

Arthur pushes himself up, holding his arms straight with his hands on either side of her head to give him leverage to pound her. “Ah~ Amy. Love. Blood hell.” Looking down at her pretty blue eyes, mussed golden hair, flushed breasts heaving… it’s like a dream only a million times more wondrous.

Amelia briefly closes her eyes, savoring every inch of him and before she knows it, she reaches yet another climax, this one far more gentle than the others. It leaves her rapturous enough to let him completely have his way with her. She bites her lip coyly at him and then drops her gaze to his chest where those pretty gold rings dangle. She hooks a finger into each one and pulls.

Arthur’s rhythm stutters, stalls. “More,” he begs, “harder. Harder. Please.”

She pulls harder, twists them nearly one hundred and eighty degrees and grins as he shudders and bows his head, his cock thrusting harder and faster into her. It must be an accomplishment, right? to turn a companion into a desperate mess. She twists the rings back the other way. She releases one and leans up as best she can, grabbing the ring between her teeth and then sucking on it along with his nipple. She swirls her tongue over the metal and the faceted stones set in it.

It’s finally too much. Arthur peaks, higher than he can ever remember. Her legs wrap around his waist, holding him fast, as her mouth and fingers switch sides. “Amy. Yes, ah, just like that, yes, yes, so good.” He spills inside her, fills her with cum. Feeling her orgasm on his cock was bloody fucking brilliant, the most amazing thing he has ever felt, but releasing inside her is a damn close second.

“Mmmm,” Amelia tosses her head back and moans in ecstasy as he fills her, hot and wet. She caresses him softly with her hands smoothing over his tense back, spreading her legs further at her hips, digging her heels into his back to keep him from slipping out.

Arthur finally stills, a few last shudders running down his spine and through his cock and he collapses onto her, his face cushioned by her lovely breasts. He only stays there a moment, before lying next to her and pulling her against his side.

Despite being almost painfully sensitized, Amelia slips her fingers between her legs, just wanting to feel him still inside her. No one had ever told her, warned her, that sex could feel so good. But if they had, she might not have waited for Arthur and he seems to be so pleased that she did.

Arthur hums happily and watches her play with herself, having a fair idea of what she’s doing. It makes his spent cock twitch futilely. “Alright there, love?” he asks, still breathless.

Amelia presses her legs together and squirms. “Mmhmm. Feel good all over. Inside even.”

“You have no pain, then?”

“None. I’ll say you know your trade quite well.”

Arthur chuckles and kisses her. “I’m not your companion, Amy. I have my skills, but that was… I promise you, that was not my trade. That was my body responding to your body, my heart speaking to your heart.” He nuzzles his nose in her hair.

Amelia drapes her arm over him and sighs giddily. “I love you too,” she murmurs.

Arthur pulls her tight to him. “Say you’ll be mine,” he begs. “Even if I’ve no right to ask. Say you’ll have no one else.”

Amelia melts. “It’s already been so,” she confesses. “Don’t see how it could ever be otherwise.”

An urgent desire in Arthur’s blood relaxes into a sweet certainty and he gently pets any part of her he can reach.

“Oh god,” she laughs, “We’re gonna have to tell everyone.”

Arthur shakes his head, chortling. “I promise you, everyone will be relieved. Except for Alfred. That poor lad is too dim to even notice how heavy the tension between us has been.”

Amelia pouts and then sighs. “Yeah, you’re probably right and I’ll be the first to admit I ain’t all that subtle.”

“Yes, but I rather adore that about you.”

“Yeah? What else do you adore about me?”

Arthur pushes her onto her back to lean over her. “Oh Amy. My love. It will be far more efficient to show you… again,” he brings up her hand to kiss it, “and again,” he moves to kiss her neck, “and again,” and seals it with a kiss to her lips.

#ukus #uk/nyo!us #wfsn #usuk fanfic #spadian ballad

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