A Kiss with a Fist

Arthur leaned over and snatched a number two pencil from the variety within the ceramic jar sitting on the corner of his glossy work desk. He slid his stack of business documents in front of him and put the pencil tip to the paper, marking a neat line under an important statement he would need to remind himself of later on. He skimmed through the production argument once more, continuing to underline key points for his debate at work the next day. The speech he was constructing was brilliant, and he was sure he would get the majority of the votes from his peers at the conference tomorrow. Business was hard at the office, but it made good money when he won the most votes.

Arthur leaned back in his chair and exhaled wearily, staring down at his papers in front of him. He lay a hand on his aching lower-back, trying to straighten out. He felt the agitated muscles move and flex, then breathed with relief. That helped - a little.

A hand slipped over Arthur's shoulder and slid down his chest, resting on his stomach. Arthur groaned knowingly as Francis's strikingly attractive face leaned in close to his from behind. Francis smiled charmingly and gently lay his other hand on Arthur's thigh. He slowly rubbed Arthur's stomach, leaning his face down and lightly running the tip of his nose over his neck.

"Francis…" Arthur mumbled irritatedly, moving his head out of the way. "Cut that out. I have to work on my debate arguments for tomorrow night. I can't procrastinate."

Arthur wrapped his fingers around Francis's hand on his stomach and threw it off, doing the same to the one on his thigh. Francis frowned, putting his hands on his hips.

"But I need you right now," he sulked, his bottom lip jutting out. Arthur glanced up at him and crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. He didn't even want to talk to Francis. He had a stressful day at work and was not in the mood for the irrelevant conversations he knew Francis would start. That agitating blond was just too much for Arthur sometimes.

Francis whimpered and slumped his shoulders, gawking down at Francis like an upset child. Arthur closed his eyes and turned away from him, rebelliously putting out a hand to silence Francis's immature sniveling.

"Now go," Arthur warned, turning back around to stare up at him bitterly. He extended his arm and pointed at the ajar door across the room. Francis glanced over his shoulder at the door as Arthur muttered, "I'm not in the mood for you right now. Get out and entertain yourself while I work."

Francis turned his head to gaze down at Arthur after he was done ogling at the door. Arthur stared in return, being just as serious as the moment before.

"No," Francis remarked plainly. He slipped his hands under Arthur's arms, lifting him out of the chair effortlessly. "Just move yourself over to the bed."

Arthur lost his grip on the pencil and watched as it fell onto his desk, making a short mark on the side of one of his documents. Arthur shouted in offense, throwing his arms around fumingly as Francis fumbled to get him away from his work desk. Arthur yapped again and grabbed onto the ledge of his desk, pulling himself forward. Francis's hands lost their grip on Arthur's arms and he wriggled free. Francis shoved Arthur's chair behind them, making him fall to the absorptive carpet at Francis's feet. Francis leaned down to grab onto his thin shirt as Arthur leaned back, his head thwacking against his desk. Arthur shouted in anger and pain, quickly putting a hand on the back of his throbbing head. Francis fisted his other hand into Arthur's shirt, pulling him up closer. Arthur quickly reached up and slapped his hand across Francis's cheek in a panic, yelling out loudly. Francis lay a hand on his stinging cheek, slowly turning his head back to Arthur under him. Pure anger rose in Francis's eyes, underneath the building water.

"You do not slap me," Francis demanded, a quiet noise of discomfort coming from Arthur as he abruptly tugged him up by his shirt. Arthur shot his head to the side and shut his eyes as tight as he could, paranoid he'd get struck, like past experiences. Francis saw this fear in Arthur's face. He knew he was scared.

Francis balled both hands into Arthur's shirt and lifted him up against the desk, trying to get him to his feet. It was hard to stand though, for Arthur was limp and numb. Francis pushed Arthur toward their bed in the corner of the room, a grunt coming Arthur. He shouted in pain as he landed on the small of his back, right against the wood frame at the side of the bed. Francis loomed over Arthur with one step, grabbing onto his shirt again. Arthur leaned back over the side of the bed and kicked at Francis, desperate to get free. Arthur's foot flew up into Francis's face, kicking his teeth. Francis grunted in irritation and latched onto Arthur's hair, making him holler in distress.

"I just wanted to make sweet love to you…" Francis sighed, gazing down at Arthur sadly. "If you want to do your work that badly… I'll leave you alone."

Francis unlatched his fingers from his hair, a gasp of relief coming from Arthur. His head was still throbbing, but the pain was dramatically lesser when he stopped tugging on his hair. Francis released his grip on Arthur's shirt, it wrinkled and ruffled up in the place he was clutching it. Arthur panted and huffed, letting his head drop back onto the bed as he stared up at Francis with half-lidded eyes. Blood gushed out of a deep cut in Francis's bottom lip, dripping off his chin and staining his light-colored shirt. Arthur gasped slightly at the sight of his lover's flowing blood, his bruises and headache softening their throbs. Arthur held his arms out, making Francis blink down at him curiously.

"You're… you're bleeding…" he told him softly, reaching up and wiping off a little blood from his chin. The corners of Francis's lips started to lift into a small smile.

"Yes, I knew that," he snickered. "You kicked me pretty hard in the mouth…"

Arthur gasped quietly again, realizing that he was the cause of Francis's shed blood. Arthur lay a hand on his cheek, his eyes sympathetic.

"I'm really sorry…" Arthur whispered. Francis smiled a little brighter and laughed.

"It's okay, I'm the one who should be sorry," Francis chuckled. "I was beating on you, too. You're such a gentleman, for apologizing first when I started it." Francis lay a gentle hand on Arthur's cheek, comfortingly stroking his cheekbone with his thumb pad. Arthur smiled softly at Francis's sudden wave of sweetness, trying his best to forget about the blood he drew.

"You can be quite the gentleman when you want to be…" Arthur chuckled absentmindedly, carelessly looking up into Francis's face.

"Naturally," Francis laughed. He smiled down at Arthur for a moment, sliding his thumb over his bone. Arthur's heart fluttered around his chest, Francis's touch so gentle and loving.

"I…" Arthur breathed, closing his eyes thoughtfully.

Francis slipped an arm under Arthur's back and one under the bends of his legs, sweeping him off the edge of the bed. Francis snickered as a loud noise of irritation came from Arthur. He dropped Arthur down onto the bed, he flailing his arms and kicking and shouting.

"Let me go!" Arthur hollered, Francis clamoring onto the bed to hold him down. "I should not be treated like this - I am a gentleman!"

Francis laughed darkly and tightly grasped his Arthur, he not being to break free from Francis's lustful grip.