“Does that bother you?” Alfred smiles, the others hand on his thigh makes heat bloom on the skin underneath the tight jeans he’s wearing. He tilts his head and presses another kiss to Ivar’s lips. The other man is a tantalizing kisser or maybe Alfred is drunk enough that anything can be tantalizing but he’d wanted to kiss Ivar even before the alcohol had settled in.
Maybe he’s also enjoying making it hard for Ivar to think. After all... he doesn’t necessarily enjoy how most people react when they find out who he is and he is really enjoying Ivar and that things feel normal.
"No. Thinking at a time like this is overrated." Ivar leans back in, kissing Alfred back again. Finding someone who sees him for who he is, instead of pointing out his obvious disability, that's like finding a unicorn. Well, looks like there is one out there after all.
He moves his lips from Alfred's mouth to over his cheek and then traces them around the shell of his ear. He bites down lightly a few times, not hard enough to cause any pain, just to gauge Alfred's reaction to the move.
Alfred can’t help but smile at the response. It’s true but sometimes he knew that many people didn’t know how to stop — and he is sometimes one of those people... but not tonight. Enough alcohol, a high enough threshold of interest in Ivar had the overthinking held at bay.
Alfred’s breath catches as the others lips move to his ear, the spot sensitive and he reaches up, fingers over the nape of his neck and then fingers spreading over the back of his head, fingertips curling ever so slightly.
The apartment isn’t all that far and too soon the car was stopping but Alfred didn’t move immediately but said, “we’re at my place.”
"Hmmm?" Ivar looks up from his ministrations kissing his way along Alfred's face as the other teen says something, only then realizing that the car has stopped. He's reluctant to have to move, but unless they want to sit in the car the entire night, they'll have to eventually. Besides, a bed promises to be a lot more comfortable if the two of them continue the way they're going.
"Just one more moment..." Ivar says, kissing Alfred fervently on the lips, and with a promise of more to come once they get inside. Only then does he reluctantly get out of the car, sliding into his wheelchair so that they can head into the apartment.
Alfred was tempted to just stay where he was with the way that Ivar kissed him but soon enough they were on the move. Luckily enough, it appears they’ve managed to avoid any paparazzi picking up on them. He didn’t know what he would have done if they had. Or more he would worry over what Ivar would have done. But these are things they don’t have to address.
There’s a roomy elevator that takes them up to Alfreds apartment which isn’t the most fancy and actually if someone knew who he was they would think it modest. It was more than comfortable though.
“Did you want another drink or do you just want a tour?”
Ivar looks around the apartment as he enters with interest. It's smaller than his own, but then, Ivar has always taken having the finest things in life for granted since his family is so wealthy.
"I'll take that drink," he says. A little more alcohol will only do each other some good at this stage. He's already quite interested in where the rest of the night will go. Alfred has both a charming personality and the looks to match. He just wishes he could remember why Alfred looks so familiar. Ah well. Maybe the drink will help.
Because drinks always improve one's memories, right?
Alfred smiles and he moves to the kitchen to get pour them both a glass of wine, because that is mostly what he has after all. He moves to the couch and glances at Ivar. "Join me?" he queries as he sits to one side and he's confident the other can maneuver on his own so he'll hold onto his glass until he does.
Ivar slides over onto the couch from his wheelchair in a few stuttering movements, made a little sloppy by the alcohol in his system. He licks his lips as he gets close to Alfred, accepting the drink in one hand. He keeps his eyes on the other teen over the rim as he drinks.
"So tell me, what do you do during the day when you're not seducing the crippled sons of military company moguls?" He has trouble picturing Alfred doing any banal, ordinary work. There's something extraordinary about Alfred that's been intriguing Ivar from the very start. He seems special.
"Oh, am I the one doing the seducing?" Alfred says with a quick smile and he takes a sip of his drink and relaxes into the couch. His eyes don't waver from Ivar as he speaks but he doesn't disclose the full truth of his identity yet either. It's... nice that Ivar doesn't know yet, that this can't be attributed to anything else.
"I help with charities around the city," Alfred says vaguely, lifting a shoulder. "PR among other things."
"Of course. I am entirely innocent in all of this," Ivar says, his actions of running a hand along Alfred's shoulder and coming to rest on the back of his neck running completely contrary to his words.
He nods at Alfred's words. "I can see you doing that. You have such kindness in your eyes." Alright, he's definitely drank a little too much if he's spouting off nonsense like that.
"Oh, of course you are," Alfred says, a smile curling further at the corners of his mouth. His skin was heated and tingling where the other was touching and he met the other's gaze. It's hard to continue the conversation they were having.
"That...is really cheesy," Alfred accuses Ivar playfully but he leans in and presses his lips to his again, clearly he doesn't mind cheesy.
He's glad Alfred doesn't mind him making a fool of himself. Contrary to the side he likes to present to everyone at all times, being in control of things, when it came to people he likes, Ivar is a mess. He's glad Alfred seems to enjoy him regardless. He leans back into Alfred's kiss, the hand on the back of his neck playing with the hairs along the nape there.
His foggy brain keeps working in the background trying to figure out where he's seen Alfred before. He's sure he's been on the news in some capacity. He'll get it sooner or later now.
Alfred wonders if they should keep talking more, if maybe he should be honest but he knows it will be sooner rather than later when Ivar figures it out on his own. He can enjoy this, the fact that there's nothing about his station that is causing the connection they're sharing, Ivar's attraction to him is only about himself.
He doesn't offer anymore information and instead parts his lips, tongue brushing against Ivar's lips, questing to deepen the kiss pushing conversation further and further away from the forefront of his mind.
Ivar continues to kiss Alfred, the heat rising up in him, and going straight to his groin. This is promising to end up being a good night for the teen.
He pulls Alfred down gently until he's lying back on the couch with Alfred over him. Much as he'd like to be the physically dominant one, it's too hard to keep himself on top when he's being intimate with someone. He keeps tugging on Alfred's hair as he kisses him, the little spurts of pain some spice to go along with the sweetness.
Alfred groans into the kiss as they shift and they’re laying on the couch. He is careful as he moves with the others legs, it’s easy enough to assume that they could be painful with the wrong pressure applied. But thinking about making sure not to hurt Ivar doesn’t stifle the pleasure of pressing against him as they settle. Each tug on his hair sends a delicious thrill through him.
He rocks his hips down into Ivar’s, feeling heat grow between them as he tilts his head and breaks the kiss to trail his lips along his jaw and down his neck with heavy breaths as he tastes his skin.
There's a groan of pleasure from Ivar as Alfred start to trail his lips on his skin. His heart thumps just a little louder at the soft feeling on his jaw and neck. He tilts his head to the side so that Alfred will have easier access.
One hand slips under Alfred's shirt and he runs his hand along his skin lightly, his palm feeling warm just from the contact.
Alfred is eager to take advantage of the offered skin, light kisses and tender nips as he searches out what spots might get the best response out of Ivar while savoring the unique taste the other had on his tongue.
A quiet sound escapes him and against the skin he had just kissed, a mewl of pleasure of sorts as he raises into the other's touch slightly before rolls his hips a bit more firmly against Ivar's.
There's a moment that he basks in before he shifts to pull his shirt off. There are hints to his identity if Ivar were paying attention, a ring that is known to be a royal jewel, a tattoo of his family's crest visible after he pulled off his shirt over his heart (his mother had nearly had a heart attack when he got it but it had been one of his major moments of rebellion).
Once his shirt is tossed aside he moves to pull of Ivar's as well, a grin spreading across his face as he does.
Ivar lets Alfred pull his shirt off, the alcohol still buzzing in his system. His own tattoo isn't nearly as obvious since it's on his back, a picture of Hati and Skoll chasing one another, the wolves of Norse mythology that would devour the sun and the moon. He'd gotten it when he was 17, a reminder to himself that he would always be a conqueror, not the one being conquered.
He leans up, hips bucking as much as he can with his limited mobility as his fingers ran lightly over Alfred's tattoo. He paused a moment, brow crinkling. "Where did you get this?" He asks. Ivar knows he's seen that particular crest before. It's somewhere in the back of his mind, rising to the surface...any moment now...
Alfred looks vaguely amused at the fact that Ivar asked him about the crest and didn’t place it immediately as more than a few people would have normally. He glances at Ivar before he answers, a little breathless from the desire and heat that was building between them.
“It’s the royal crest.” He wondered if that was enough to clue in the other.
That's when it hits Ivar. Why Alfred had a vaguely familiar quality and why Ivar thought he'd seen him on the news somewhere. Alfred was an English prince. He's been on a date with a member of the royal family this whole time. He sits up a little and the shock on his face makes it clear what he's just figured out.
When he finally finds his voice again, he swallows. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asks almost accusingly. Alfred hadn't exactly lied to him, but Ivar wanted to know why he hadn't been honest with who he was from the beginning.
Alfred shifted his weight when Ivar sat up and his hand drops onto the back of the couch and well... this reaction is partly the answer to why he wouldn't have told him. He hesitates a moment and then lifts a shoulder.
"Because it isn't important and people tend to think about nothing else when they know."
Ivar seems to be taking this quite well. Not recognizing Prince Alfred had been a bit of a shock, but now that it's wearing off, all that he can see is the kind-hearted teen he's already started falling for. He's smiling faintly as he reaches up, tucking a bit of hair behind Alfred's ear. "Sleeping with a prince..." His smile turns into a smirk. "Guess I can cross that one off the bucket list."
Alfred rolls his eyes. "Pretty confident about how far you're going to get aren't you?" Alfred teases him, though he's pushing Ivar back down again, letting his hips roll into his once more.
"Oh yes. I can see the future very clearly," he said, still with that smirk that was equal parts infuriating and charming at the same time. He's glad to see that this isn't going to interrupt their night too much. After all, he still wants very much to be here in the moment with Alfred, not focusing on what his status is.
“Can you?” Alfred asks, a small smirk on his lips as he leans down and kisses the others jaw, moving up to his ear before adding. “then tell me what you see.” It’s not a question and he grazes his lips along the shell of Ivar’s ear, a hand drawing along the others stomach lightly.
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Maybe he’s also enjoying making it hard for Ivar to think. After all... he doesn’t necessarily enjoy how most people react when they find out who he is and he is really enjoying Ivar and that things feel normal.
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He moves his lips from Alfred's mouth to over his cheek and then traces them around the shell of his ear. He bites down lightly a few times, not hard enough to cause any pain, just to gauge Alfred's reaction to the move.
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Alfred’s breath catches as the others lips move to his ear, the spot sensitive and he reaches up, fingers over the nape of his neck and then fingers spreading over the back of his head, fingertips curling ever so slightly.
The apartment isn’t all that far and too soon the car was stopping but Alfred didn’t move immediately but said, “we’re at my place.”
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"Just one more moment..." Ivar says, kissing Alfred fervently on the lips, and with a promise of more to come once they get inside. Only then does he reluctantly get out of the car, sliding into his wheelchair so that they can head into the apartment.
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There’s a roomy elevator that takes them up to Alfreds apartment which isn’t the most fancy and actually if someone knew who he was they would think it modest. It was more than comfortable though.
“Did you want another drink or do you just want a tour?”
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"I'll take that drink," he says. A little more alcohol will only do each other some good at this stage. He's already quite interested in where the rest of the night will go. Alfred has both a charming personality and the looks to match. He just wishes he could remember why Alfred looks so familiar. Ah well. Maybe the drink will help.
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Alfred smiles and he moves to the kitchen to get pour them both a glass of wine, because that is mostly what he has after all. He moves to the couch and glances at Ivar. "Join me?" he queries as he sits to one side and he's confident the other can maneuver on his own so he'll hold onto his glass until he does.
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"So tell me, what do you do during the day when you're not seducing the crippled sons of military company moguls?" He has trouble picturing Alfred doing any banal, ordinary work. There's something extraordinary about Alfred that's been intriguing Ivar from the very start. He seems special.
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"I help with charities around the city," Alfred says vaguely, lifting a shoulder. "PR among other things."
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He nods at Alfred's words. "I can see you doing that. You have such kindness in your eyes." Alright, he's definitely drank a little too much if he's spouting off nonsense like that.
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"That...is really cheesy," Alfred accuses Ivar playfully but he leans in and presses his lips to his again, clearly he doesn't mind cheesy.
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His foggy brain keeps working in the background trying to figure out where he's seen Alfred before. He's sure he's been on the news in some capacity. He'll get it sooner or later now.
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He doesn't offer anymore information and instead parts his lips, tongue brushing against Ivar's lips, questing to deepen the kiss pushing conversation further and further away from the forefront of his mind.
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He pulls Alfred down gently until he's lying back on the couch with Alfred over him. Much as he'd like to be the physically dominant one, it's too hard to keep himself on top when he's being intimate with someone. He keeps tugging on Alfred's hair as he kisses him, the little spurts of pain some spice to go along with the sweetness.
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He rocks his hips down into Ivar’s, feeling heat grow between them as he tilts his head and breaks the kiss to trail his lips along his jaw and down his neck with heavy breaths as he tastes his skin.
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One hand slips under Alfred's shirt and he runs his hand along his skin lightly, his palm feeling warm just from the contact.
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A quiet sound escapes him and against the skin he had just kissed, a mewl of pleasure of sorts as he raises into the other's touch slightly before rolls his hips a bit more firmly against Ivar's.
There's a moment that he basks in before he shifts to pull his shirt off. There are hints to his identity if Ivar were paying attention, a ring that is known to be a royal jewel, a tattoo of his family's crest visible after he pulled off his shirt over his heart (his mother had nearly had a heart attack when he got it but it had been one of his major moments of rebellion).
Once his shirt is tossed aside he moves to pull of Ivar's as well, a grin spreading across his face as he does.
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He leans up, hips bucking as much as he can with his limited mobility as his fingers ran lightly over Alfred's tattoo. He paused a moment, brow crinkling. "Where did you get this?" He asks. Ivar knows he's seen that particular crest before. It's somewhere in the back of his mind, rising to the surface...any moment now...
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“It’s the royal crest.” He wondered if that was enough to clue in the other.
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When he finally finds his voice again, he swallows. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asks almost accusingly. Alfred hadn't exactly lied to him, but Ivar wanted to know why he hadn't been honest with who he was from the beginning.
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"Because it isn't important and people tend to think about nothing else when they know."
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