Fifth Floor Hallway to Room 525, Friday Late Afternoon

[bitchprince]

Eric	Eric was very excited. Not, in fact, the way most people were excited the past few days. Well, that, too, but he was fifteen and male, that was a given. No, in this particular instance, most of his glee was focused on the package he'd just received from Fedex: a waffle-iron. Only Eric van der Woodsen would buy a $600 waffle iron for his high school dorm room. As it was, he was whistling cheerily as he walked down the hall to his room, ready to try out the waffle-iron for the first time.
Arthur	Arthur, meanwhile, had come looking on the fifth floor for one of those drinks-in-cans. Merlin had made himself scarce for now - couldn't find him anywhere when you needed him, except things were strange, and perhaps avoidance was a good thing - but at least the inventions of the time left him to some self-service. Of course, he wasn't acquainted enough for drink-in-a-can that he didn't find himself in the hallway with said can, fidgeting slightly with the lip. Push it up, right?
Eric	"Arthur! Hi!" Eric said, glee pouring out of every pore, as he saw the older boy. "I have a waffle iron! Want one?" No, it didn't even occur to him that the other boy might not know what a waffle is.
Arthur	Arthur abandoned his aluminum can project for the day. It wasn't that important anyway. He tilted his head at Eric - he was managing to almost equal Zack in his cheer. That was something. "A waffle iron," he repeated. Something weird, that is.
Eric	Eric nodded most enthusiastically. "Yes! For making waffles. Belgian waffles, so they're the really thick ones, and I actually already got a bunch of toppings, 'cause I knew it would be here soon, and I can totally make you one if you want." He glanced at the can. "Having trouble with it? I know sometimes they can be a little finicky."
Arthur	"I have no idea what a waffle iron is," Arthur said, in that kind of friendly, you-baffle-me tone he reserved for lesser nobles talking rubbish that confused the hell out of him. "I think I can handle a can," he continued, "It's just being--" Pause. "'Finicky'."
Eric	"Oh my God you have to come try one, then," Eric insisted, leading the way to his room where, through an acrobatic juggling of the large box, his saddlebag, and his keys, he got the door open. "Seriously, they're amazing. They're like this cake thing? Kinda like a pancake, except they've got indents -- not all the way through, just to, like, hold toppings and things. And the waffle iron's designed for making them."
Arthur	So a waffle would be... food. Or, in this case, free food. Arthur was a little busy staring at Eric's back. This week was bloody disorienting, if nothing else. "So you're a baker," he surmised, in the same way that he'd surmised the same about Francine a while ago. "No wonder you were so rubbish with the sword to start with."
Eric	Eric shrugged. "Not, like, as a trade or anything," he insisted. "I'll probably end up in law school or something. But I like baking, yeah. It's something I've done before. Unlike using a sword." He glanced back at Arthur, and the can. "Want me to get that for you?" he asked.
Arthur	"I can handle it," he repeated, although not quite as harshly. No need to rag on the boy for trying to be helpful. ... Arthur was hungry. He'd blame that. "If you've got any talent at all, you'll get a handle on it with enough practice," he said, as he fiddled with the lip again. "If not, you'll at least amuse some by flailing." He meant that kindly.
Eric	Eric nodded. "Did I look okay, with the drills yesterday?" he asked, moving to start unpacking the waffle-iron. There was a space on his desk already cleared for it, so he set it up there, the unfamiliar appliance nonetheless taking shape very quickly in front of them. "This'll just take a few seconds to heat up," he added, pulling out some cooking spray and greasing up the iron. "Could you grab the batter out of the fridge? I knew it was coming today, so I made some up earlier. It's in the green bowl?"
Arthur	So he was in a relative unknown's - Eric's - apartment, promised food, and now asked to pick something up out of something he wasn't actually fully schooled on. He shot Eric's back a mildly confused look. Of course, in Arthur's world, generally, things like cake just happened. "You weren't failing as bad as you could have," he allowed, finally. Not that that said much around here. "I'm not a cook."
Eric	"I'll take take that as a compliment," Eric said, laughing and nodding to the mini-fridge. "In there, green bowl," he explained. "And trust me, it's a lot easier to learn to cook than it is to use a sword."
Arthur	"I know which one I'd rather settle for," he said, dryly, but yanked open the fridge. Cold. "Why rangering, if you can't even lift a blade?" There was a bowl there. The cold was nicer, however, so he lingered for a moment before he actually bothered to reach for it.

[[ and cont'd in the comments, for eric. *plays porn music applicable for waffleporn* ]]

Comments

[bitchprince]

Eric was being bizarrely kind on Arthur's mental scale of Fandomite behaviour. He shrugged that off; he was used to getting his way. It was nice to see the world still knew how to fall into place from time to time. "Strawberries will do fine," he said, considering Eric.

"You'd need a lot more than just a single rangering class to get anywhere."

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric thought back to his earlier... showing... in Rangering. "Yeah, that's because incredibly apparent to me," he said. "But I think I'm liking swordwork, too. I haven't decided yet, but I think I'm going to keep it up after the class is over."

He tilted the waffle iron back over, and opened it, revealing fluffy waffle heaven which he flipped out onto one plate before cutting it in half. He slid one half onto the other plate and then began to top both waffle halves in copious amounts of strawberries. "Whipped cream, too?" he asked, taking a bowl of stiffly-whipped cream out of the fridge. A faint whiff of lemon came up from it.

[bitchprince]

Everyone involved was so, so lucky that Arthur had not seen much porn beyond that one with the men in Merlin's room the time he was a bloody lion, or the jokes would be rampant here (or at least imagined, because back home, the knights would be making them).

"Can you at least pretend like you're not trying to fall over your feet, then?" Arthur asked, lightly. He wasn't really looking at the waffles, no, when he waved a hand at Eric.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric gave Arthur a vaguely hurt look, but his smile showed it was mostly in jest. "Okay, so I tripped a couple of times in class today. At least I kept hold of my sword? That's got to be, what, basic swordsmanship 101?"

He topped both waffles with whipped cream, and then handed one plate to Arthur with knife and fork.

[bitchprince]

"Not even basic swordsmanship," he said, "That's just holding things."

Ah, Arthur. You were so flattering. He took said knife and fork to the waffle, though. Well, he was going to, once he found somewhere to sit.

Like over there. Sitting was good.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

"Well, you've got to start somewhere!"

Eric sat down on his own bed, across from Arthur, and dug into his waffle. ... Well, 'dug in' might be too strong, for as much as he was a teenaged boy, he was also a van der Woodsen, and a product of the UES. So he managed to eat with some manners, at least. "What do you think?" he asked Arthur.

[bitchprince]

Arthur was a dignified eater, really. He just happened to be one who was pretty broad and had a lot of muscles and ergo needed a lot of food to get through a day. He was ergo halfway in before he answered, "This is not bad."

No wonder Eric stuck to baking like the girl he was.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

"I can make more if you'd like," Eric said, laughing, as he looked up from his own waffle.

And noticed the little bit of whipped cream right on the end of Arthur's nose. "Oh, hey, here, you've got a bit of-" He got up, stepping across the room, leaning into rub the whipped cream away... But that seemed like so much less of a good idea than leaning in to lick it away.

It would be such a waste, otherwise.

[bitchprince]

Again: so lucky about the lack of pornographic experience, or the mood would've been broken by laughter. Or something of the kind, at least.

As it was, though, the touch of something on his face wasn't doing much for the heat Arthur had been dealing with for the past few days (and it wasn't-- going to get odd. Nothing like any stables he knew of).

So he just blinked once, then raised his eyebrows, and there was the clatter of his fork on his plate as he freed his hand up to snag Eric's hair.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric's hands came up to Arthur's shoulders, not to push himself away but to steady himself as he leaned back just a bit. "... Hi," he said, grinning, before he leaned into kiss Arthur.

[bitchprince]

Something in the back of Arthur's mind pointed out that even for his standards around here, this could be considered a little forward.

He ignored it, keeping a grip as he kissed back; his other hand fell to Eric's hip, to aid him in steadying himself.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

It had been way too long since someone touched Eric like this. Not since the cruise, with some NPC whose name I can't remember random guy he'd met up with in a bar. The passion of his kisses might betray his urgency to Arthur, even as he brought one hand down to feel the strong muscles of Arthur's chest through his shirt.

[bitchprince]

Thanks to a very accommodating roommate (nevermind the talented Jenny Sparks) Arthur didn't suffer any problems along those lines, but he'd been in a bit of a mood this week and yesterday hadn't made it any better.

Repression, as they say, is healthy.

He slipped his hand up the side of Eric's shirt, pulling him in closer. Body heat seemed like a nice compliment to whatever was going on right now.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric's hand drifted further down, moving to Arthur's waist then slipping up inside the older boy's shirt, tracing over Arthur's skin. He pulled his lips away from Arthur's, letting them move along his jawline.

[bitchprince]

"I take it this wasn't about waffles, then," Arthur said, conversationally. His head belied his tone, as he tilted it sideways to give a little more skin.

He wasn't surprised to find a complete lack of scars on Eric's skin so far. He just brushed his hand further up, bringing some of the fabric with it as he let go of the boy's hair.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

He did lack scars mostly, yes, with only one, high on his left him, from an accident when he was six, and the faint tracery across the inside of each wrist.

"Waffles excite me," Eric responded, speaking into Arthur's neck, "but not like this, thanks." But he was grinning, and pulling away now, just a bit, to try and pull Arthur's shirt off.

[bitchprince]

Arthur let go for just a moment, holding his arms up in one fluid, smug movement. He was smirking when it was done coming up over his face. "I can only imagine," he said, and reached to return the favour.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric had worn a polo today, thankfully, and not even done up the buttons, so it was just simple to slip off his shirt.

His shirt off, Eric had a moment to feel self-conscious; he was slender yet, and mostly lacking in muscle-tone. Quite different from Arthur's hard strength. He shoved the thoughts aside, though, and leaned back in to lick at Arthur's neck.

[bitchprince]

Slender was something he was starting to get used to, Arthur thought, vaguely, then shoved that thought aside. None of that, especially not when he was somewhere else entirely.

He slipped his fingers down Eric's spine, choosing to ignore any lack of muscle tissue or noticing thereof to fixate on the warm skin there, the wetness on his neck, and the idea that in a few moments' time Eric might look quite good on his back.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric moved down Arthur's chest, licking and sucking, nipping at his nipples, as he brought his hands down to undo Arthur's pants. "Here, let me-" he said, indicating that he wanted to pull them down as he fell to his knees.

[bitchprince]

Okay, maybe that back thing could wait a little longer. He braced his hand back on the bed after a happy gasp (of a kind, at least) slanting his eyes down at Eric imperiously.

He did, however, bring himself up enough to accommodate. For now, he could lay off. Kind of him, really.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric slipped Arthur's pants down and leaned foward, taking the prince's length into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head. He reached up with one hand to cup Arthur's balls, to roll them lightly, while the other went down to undo his own belt, his own pants, and free his straining erection.

[bitchprince]

Arthur exhaled sharply, allowing his head to droop forward, to cast his bangs over his forehead as he looked on down. The hand that wasn't as busy supporting him found a rest on Eric's shoulder, where it remained for the moment.

His mouth twisted into a slight smirk.

[notasuiciderisk.livejournal.com]

Eric leaned forward, taking more of Arthur's length into his mouth, swallowing him down to bury his nose in Arthur's pubes. As he pulled back, he reached one finger from Arthur's balls back a little further, to rub at that one little sweet spot just below.

[bitchprince]

The part where Eric actually had any clue as to where to go knocked the last remaining thoughts about stables from Arthur's mind, for which he was grateful.

He pressed the palm of his hand to the side of Eric's neck for a next resting place as he made a few - none too loud, but definitely not quiet - appreciative noises, his eyes slipping half-shut.

That didn't mean he was looking anywhere else, mind.