Baby Boy - Arthur Fleck x You (Sensual Sunday mornings w/Arthur *fluff*)
Arthur sits on the couch, while you find your usual cozy spot square on his lap, straddle style. His fingers drum to their own beat on your exposed thighs. It’s a Sunday morning, slipping quickly into afternoon; and the way you two like to spend those are exactly this way, still in your PJ’s, all wrapped up in each other. Arthur’s music choice of the moment plays in the background, swallowing up the garbled noise of public television playing -- and yes, both are on at the same time because fuck it, it’s Sunday.
You shift a bit, careful not disturb Arthur, whose head is cocked back off the curve of the couch, beautiful curls bobbing with every slight movement. Lost in thought. His adam’s apple slides up and down his throat with each swallow. You wait for a moment, then plant a kiss directly on it, pursing your lips and sucking briefly before letting go. Tiny new stubble prickles against your pouty lips.
“Mmmm,” the sound comes out of Arthur freely, vibrating against your cupid’s bow. It builds into bit of a growl, then a low chuckle. Where you’re sitting is the perfect place to feel his manhood throbbing against your inner thigh. You shift yourself away and place another kiss on his pulse. It doesn’t take much to get him started, and you don’t want to get there...not just yet. Your hands move to comb through Arthur’s hair, starting at the roots then sliding to the ends.
“That feels so good,” he says, voice raspy as his eyelids flutter to a close. It’s almost a moan, and that makes you chuckle back. You love how easily he falls under the slightest of your touches. You look at him, feeling your heart swell with pride, love, lust, excitement, all the good emotions in the world. It could bring you to tears; sometimes it does. You just can’t believe how lucky you are to love a man as soft, loving, caring, and complex as Arthur Fleck.
“Baby boy,” you murmur with a voice filled with adoration, index finger sliding up the curved slope of his nose. Arthur’s head cocks back up, electric eyes staring straight into yours.
“What was that?” He quips, curiosity flashing through his eyes. Crap, does he have to make you blush? Like, right now?
“Nothing,” you backtrack, utterly failing at keeping cool.
“What was that you said?”
Arthur tickles you, asking you over and over again. You can barely gasp out the word ‘nothing’ for the 50th time -- your eyes are tearing up and you’re trapped in his lap.
“Maybe this will make you tell me,” he says, scooping you up and standing with you hoisted around his waist. He kisses you as he carries you towards the bedroom. He’s not getting anything out of you now except flustered sighs and whines. You both are glued to each others lips, fingers tangled in locks of hair.
“But -- Arthur -- breakfast.”
“Don’t want it,” he murmurs between hurried kisses. “Want dessert instead.”
His lips smirk against yours, and you can’t help but tear your lips away with a burst of laughter. Then, he joins you on the bed, and the rest is as they say ... well, bliss. Just bliss.
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