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English
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Published:
2020-06-04
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790
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1/1
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Foreplay...er, Swordplay

Summary:

So we were drooling over the idea of Arthur in a corset-style waistcoat and leather bracers just the other day and then GlassPunk went and DREW HIM, and then I had to write a gently smutty little fic about it for dei.

Yeah, that's the summary.

Notes:

Work Text:

GlassPunk's Arthur

 

Saito looked up from his book as Arthur strode into the room, grim-faced, to glare out the window at the garden. The point man was unbuttoning his tailored suit jacket, mouth set in distaste.

“They’ve sent swordsmen,” Arthur spat. “In this day and age.”

Saito raised a cool eyebrow. “We have guns,” he suggested, eyeing Arthur’s deft fingers on the tiny buttons. He felt a stir of interest, his standard reaction to Arthur removing any item of clothing.

Arthur paused, looking at him sidelong. “You’re usually the one reminding me to moderate my responses.”

Saito set the book down, a faint smile playing about his mouth. “We are not usually beginning one of our very infrequent leaves of absence. I was looking forward to unwinding.”

Arthur flashed him a rare grin as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it aside. Under it, he was wearing one of the corset-style waistcoats he favored and Saito licked his lips. Arthur knew very well what the waistcoats, worn snug to his lithely muscular body and laced up the back, did for, and to, Saito.

What Saito hadn’t expected were the black leather bracers covering Arthur’s forearms to his wrists, edges settled neatly just under the creamy french cuffs of his dress shirt, a startlingly piratical touch to a suit that smirked from the edge of fetish wear.

“You...” Saito cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. “The arm guards...”

Arthur’s grin curled roguishly at the corners. “I had been planning to...spar with you this evening.” He came to stand in front of Saito and curved his hands to cup the back of Saito’s head. Saito turned to brush his mouth against the body-warmed leather before he pulled Arthur down to straddle his thighs, his fingers stroking along the stiff lines of the waistcoat.

Arthur bent his head to kiss him, lingering against his mouth, and Saito brought his hands up to wrap around the leather of the bracers, pulling a rough pleased sound from Arthur as his grip tightened.

“A threat of guns would resolve this faster,” Saito murmured, teasing the words against Arthur’s lips.

Arthur laughed softly and pushed away to stand. “And skip the foreplay? It’s not like you to rush into things, Saito.” He pulled a sword off the wall and drew it in a smooth motion, mouth quirking at the catch in Saito’s breath. When he turned to go out into the garden, he threw a provocative glance over his shoulder as Saito admired the straight clean lines of Arthur’s back and shoulders. “This shouldn’t take long,” Arthur said, pausing with one hand on the doorframe.

Saito was tantalized by the sight of him but resisted the urge to call him back, settling for his view of the snug fit of Arthur’s trousers as he strode out the door, a cool expression on his face, distant with a hint of irritation. Saito felt a moment’s sympathy for the idiotic swordsmen who had dared to interrupt their precious time off.

The tiff didn’t last long, but watching Arthur send them scurrying away had Saito adjusting himself gently in his trousers, and he smiled, anticipation rising. Foreplay, indeed. When Arthur stalked back inside, triumphant, a little flushed, a little breathless, Saito rose and slid the sword out of his hand to set it aside.

“Do I get rewarded?” Arthur purred as Saito pressed him back against the wall.

He traced his fingertips down the sides of Arthur’s waistcoat. “Have you ever needed to ask?” Saito heard the roughness in his own voice and spared a moment to marvel at how easily Arthur affected his control. He leaned away, working the little fastenings of Arthur’s waistcoat loose while Arthur watched, his eyes already dilated, his breathing uneven.

As the waistcoat swung open, Saito leaned close to take Arthur’s earlobe in his teeth, provoking a tiny huff and restless squirming against him.

“Saito...”

With a soft laugh, Saito brought his hand up to curl around Arthur’s throat and tugged him away from the wall. “To bed then, my Arthur, my impatient little...”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Arthur growled. “I’m not your little anything.”

Saito grinned at him, delighted, anticipatory, ravenous. He decided he’d leave the bracers on him, though it meant shredding the fine dress shirt underneath. There was no downside to this decision — he could easily purchase more bespoke shirts for his Arthur, but nothing compared to the little distressed and aroused sound Arthur would let slip as it tore.

“To bed,” he demanded, his composure and control fading. Arthur smirked and went with a insolent little sway to his saunter, and Saito gave up his self-restraint in favor of tumbling Arthur, laughing, into the bed.