We'll Meet Again - USUK

Chapter 11

It took far longer than it should have to reach the bedroom. First they tumbled over on the stairs, and Arthur absolutely could not move until Alfred finally stopped kissing the base of his throat. When they did manage to reach the top, Arthur was again delayed by Alfred pressing him against the wall and kissing him with such a burning hunger that he would have fallen to the floor were it not for Alfred's strong hands on his hips. And they almost made it through the living room, but Arthur's knees gave way when they knocked into the couch. They both fell onto it, Alfred's glasses falling to the floor, and they didn't manage to stand again until Arthur was practically panting with lust. By the time they finally reached the bedroom Arthur was missing a shirt, his shoes, and any sense of self control whatsoever. He was also quite aware that there was no way he would be opening the pub today.

They fell onto the bed and Alfred pulled Arthur to his chest, his arms surrounding him and roaming over his back. Arthur shuddered as their bodies met and he pushed his hips against Alfred's, too far gone for hesitation. Alfred responded with a moan and his thigh came up to part Arthur's legs and press between them. Arthur's mind spun, feeling this was happening too fast, feeling it was not happening fast enough. He couldn't think. He just needed to feel Alfred's skin against his. He pulled frantically on Alfred's shirt but suddenly Alfred caught his wrist and shook his head. "Wait, no." His startling look of panic made Arthur still immediately.

"What is it?" asked Arthur, confused, his fingers still clutching the buttons of Alfred's shirt. He slid his hand into Alfred's as his mind raced to calm down and catch up. Had he pressed too much, pushed too far?

"I should tell you..." Alfred looked down and paused for a few moments, looking utterly insecure. "I... my plane, when she crashed... everything was burning..." he trailed into silence. Arthur waited, trying to breathe evenly, but Alfred didn't continue.

"The plane was burning..." prompted Arthur, unsure why Alfred was bringing this up or where it was going.

Alfred nodded then looked up slowly, his eyes wide and full of uncertainty. "I was burned."

"Ohh," breathed Arthur, concern flooding him as he slowly sat up, his hand still caught in Alfred's. How could he be so careless... "I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I wasn't thinking, I keep forgetting you're still injured..."

"No, the wound has healed, as much as it can, I'm just..." Alfred looked down again. "...scarred. Badly," he finished in a whisper.

Arthur felt a tingling shock then a stab of pain in his chest. Alfred had kept his upper body completely hidden since Arthur had first found him in the hospital. This was obviously something that had been worrying him for a while. Arthur swallowed, nodded, then gently removed his hand from Alfred's before reaching again for the shirt. Something gnawed sickeningly at his stomach, but he ignored it. It was time for him to see what Alfred was hiding, and if he could handle it.

"Arthur..." Alfred's voice was low with apprehension.

"Shush." Arthur unbuttoned the shirt, slid it over Alfred's shoulders, then pushed it off altogether. Then he stilled. His heart raced swiftly but he just sat, immobile, staring silently. Red and white scar tissue covered the entire right side of Alfred's chest, raised and carved, a mass of scarred wounds which spread from his upper arm across his shoulder and chest to just below his stomach. Arthur blinked rapidly, his heart physically aching. He could not comprehend the agony something like that must have caused. Some part of him held the smallest suspicion that he should be revolted, and yet he wasn't at all. It was shocking, but it was a part of Alfred. Arthur could not possibly be revolted by any part of Alfred. As Arthur tried to think of something to say, Alfred reached up and tried to cover his chest with his hand.