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Quiet and nice. That is what one would expect from the start of a new day, isn't it? That's certainly what Arthur Dent figured when he rose from his bed, nearly stiff as a log and not quite all there. The only significance this movement had was getting him to the bottom of the staircase, even though he did trip a few times with muttered curses, and making sure his legs got him to where he needed to be. In this case, right in front of the coffee machine.
He yawned. Drizzly morning, he thought, briefly glancing out his kitchen window to see the morning dew fogging up the glass and droplets patterning against it, and some orange curls poking up before being flattened by the rain.
The coffee machine buzzed, boiled, hummed, and then sputtered as the last bit of espresso was pushed out into a small cup Arthur usually used for tea, but he wasn't too worried about it.
Gaze roaming around lazily, he searched for a spot to sit in the living room. His armchair seemed nice, maybe give a more upbeat start to the day. Or even the couch, but he figured if he were to lay down for more than a few minutes there, he'd be out like a light and wake up with steaming hot coffee running down his chin and neck that he didn't seem to take any notice of while asleep. He sighed, and then stopped thinking all together.
When he did begin to start thinking again, however, only one thought popped into his head: orange curls. He'd seen those before, hadn't he? Now where was it exactly that he remembered them from…
A tapping interrupted his internal monologue, a pale finger racking at the window with growing impatience. The man with orange curls lifted his head up as far as he could to look into the glass, and that seemed to be just enough to see his eyes and part of his nose, but that was all. Not much else in the midst of his struggle, unfortunately.
Arthur slumped over to the window and stared out for a moment, squinting at the figure that looked up at him, mouthing something that he couldn't really hear. And then, his brain finally decided to turn the gears and woke itself up.
“Ford! What on Earth are you doing out there!” Arthur exclaimed suddenly, pulling the window up with a click and concern crossing over his face, mixed with some frustrated confusion that seemed to be his normal expression when it came to being with Ford Prefect.
“Ah, hello Arthur," Ford answered with a smile, his eyes shining despite the bad weather. He then continued to climb his way into the window, grunting as his foot struggled to make contact with the edge, and then wobbled a little until he ended up falling into Arthur's kitchen.
Arthur stumbled slightly backward at the sudden body falling on to him, but he managed to stay standing. It's safe to say that his morning has now just turned into another puzzle that was most likely to give him a splitting headache, as per usual.
“Arthur, I've got to speak to you, and it must be now." said the ginger, clutching on to Arthur's arm tighter than he probably thought he was.
Arthur blinked, and then he blinked again. And he continued to blink until the confusion made way out of his mind and instead focused on what Ford had said, which was both annoying and intriguing. He mumbled out a simple response of, “Er, why?”
“I have to conduct an experiment,” Ford replied, an edge of determination in his otherwise hasty words.
Arthur blinked again, his brow cocked. “What experiment?"
Arthur had, of course, known that Ford was not of ape descent. He knew that he was from elsewhere in the galaxy, and that it was a secret kept only between them two—but this behavior was a little far from the usual oddness that he was used to from Ford.
Ford, of course, took the perfect opportunity he could think of to conduct his experiment; the exact moment that pure confusion crossed over Arthur's face. He believed that this exact moment would get him the highest form of results, and so he settled on his decision.
It was a few moments after Ford had grabbed him harshly by the face and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together that Arthur had actually registered what had happened in his brain. He didn't know what to do. Ford was simply standing there, his eyes closed and acting like this was the most natural thing in the world. Was it a confession? A joke? He didn't know what Ford was thinking, and he didn't know what he, himself, was thinking either.
His thoughts fled from his head the moment Ford pulled away, the previously warm sensation melting off his lips. He stood, frozen and stiff, eyes wide and lips just barely parted. Maybe it was just the shock factor, but he could have sworn that he enjoyed the kiss.
“Ah, interesting…" Ford mumbled to himself, eyes squinting at Arthur like he was a lab rat.
“It's- you-” Arthur stammered for a few moments, clearly struggling to get past his embarrassment that had made a pink appearance on his cheeks.
Ford seemed unsatisfied. He wasn't upset with the data, no, he had gotten exactly what he wanted for that. He was more so… intrigued. A warmth had begun to pool in his body, and he found it very difficult to get rid of.
Before Arthur could protest, he leaned forward, kissing him again as if to taste him. He then pulled away once more, a finger on his chin and deep, concentrated eyes.
“Ford! What the hell is the matter with you?!"
Ford stared at Arthur's expression. He found him to be overreacting, of course. Ford believed that a kiss was, to some degree, a normal human touch of love. He had seen many couples do it on the streets or behind bars (whenever he felt bold enough to snoop around there), and he had been wondering what it would be like to finally experience it. Safe to say, he was enjoying it immensely. Was it selfish to say he wanted more? Maybe, he figured, but it was what he wanted.
“Could I continue?"
“What?"
“I'd like to kiss you again. I enjoyed it."
Arthur felt boggled, and the heat overwhelming his body wasn't exactly expected. He knew Ford was odd, but this was a very long stretch from that category.
“Ford, you can't just… A kiss isn't…” he sighed in defeat, knowing it was going to be very difficult to try and explain something like this to the overly-relaxed Ford Prefect.
And, once again, a pair of hands were on his face, and Arthur's lips were being assaulted with a gentleness he hadn't foreseen.
This time, the kiss lasted far longer. Ford was involuntarily pressing himself up to get higher, and it ended with him pushing his body against Arthur in a new and, quite frankly, very arousing way. He liked this new motion he had learned, and he decided that it was going to be one he wanted very often.
One of the more important things was Arthur's reaction. It started, as it always does with Arthur, with surprise. It was a puzzle he had to figure out in his mind, and a few moments of confusion—until a switch flipped. He found his eyes fluttering closed, his mouth moving against the other, more desperately, and the warmth he had been trying so hard to ignore flaring up.
Did he like men? Well, now he knows. Did he, for some odd reason, specifically like Ford? This moment was proving to indicate that he did. And was it all utterly and overly confusing for seemingly no reason at all? Very much so.
Ford briefly broke the kiss off from Arthur, his lips falling away from him while small breaths escaped. He hadn't figured that kissing would be so tiring, but it had now proved to be.
One thing led to another. Those things in question were, with a very awkward level of intensity, Arthur wrapping his fingers around Ford’s wrists in a way that told him to continue. Ford, in response, continued to press himself against Arthur until he was back against the kitchen counter.
Ford kept his hands on Arthur's face as he continued to press his lips against him, and he decided to take a different approach. He wasn't completely sure on how humans liked to indulge in things like this, but he had gotten the gist of it from a few magazines he had managed to scrape up from a town store.
Using tongue in a kiss was interesting, he thought, but it proved to be astronomically sensational when he did push his tongue beyond Arthur's lips. It was warm and only added to the problem growing in his groin which he hadn't thought too much about yet. Arthur scrambled to steady himself with the edge of the counter when he felt Ford's tongue. Safe to say, he didn't expect Ford to be so good at something he hadn't even done before. Or, maybe Ford had done this before and he just didn't know.
“Oh," Ford suddenly pulled his lips away, and his gaze came off of the other's face and instead went down to where his knee had been pressing against Arthur's inner thigh. “Your body seems to be… reacting…"
“Ford…" Arthur hissed, feeling terribly embarrassed with himself. “Are you seriously going to bring that up right now?"
“Hm?" Ford looked back up to Arthur, his eyes big and blinking. He thought, and then thought some more… And after all that thinking, you'd believe he came up with something reasonable to do. But, instead, his hand went down and pressed against the slight bulge in Arthur's pajama pants.
The reaction was immediate: Arthur's body tensing exponentially, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter behind him a whole lot tighter, and feeling like he was about to melt from the touch. He noted that Ford must have no idea how to take things slow, which was both exciting and terrifying.
“Ford, you can't-” he was cut off, strangled noises coming from his mouth as Ford kissed him again, deep and unexpectedly desperate. The hand between his thighs rubbed up and down his growing erection, and it felt like torture that might just turn him into a masochist.
Ford didn't really feel any intensity from what he was doing. It was more so an adventure of fun, curiosity, and a whole lot of exploring. The one result he pulled from listening to Arthur's noises was this: he would like to hear them more often and, if there was anything that would make him louder, he would very gladly do it.
Arthur scrambled to stay up right as Ford started to grind up against him; a new feel that he wasn't quite used to. A part of him was still struggling with the fact that Ford had basically just waltzed right into his personal space and completely taken control. It was hard to grasp how fast everything seemed to be going, but the other part of Arthur was flaring up with a desperate sense of need.
Ford continued his ministrations on Arthur's bulge, but stopped when he felt a familiar pair of fingers wrapping around his own wrist. It confused him for a moment to be stopped, and when he slowly pulled away from the kiss, he tilted his head at Arthur like a perplexed little puppy; blue eyes glossed over with paused anticipation.
“Ford…” Arthur panted, his face a deep shade of red. “This is… Well…"
“Would you like to stop?" Ford interrupted, voice gentle and his body slumping forward a little. He was disappointed to stop his adventure, but he didn't have an urge to make Arthur uncomfortable.
“No, I mean… This is great, really," Arthur muttered, and then glanced over to the coffee machine behind them, the liquid running cold. “It's just very early in the morning, you see…"
Ford blinked, huffed, then pulled himself away from Arthur. He found the reason ridiculous, but he somewhat understood. He didn't quite understand why humans never seemed to disregard things when it was necessary.
For the remaining few peaceful hours of the morning Arthur had, he spent it by heating his coffee back up and grabbing some breakfast, Ford hanging on to his shoulder, settled down on the couch, and took some time to think. These new feelings bubbling up in both his body and mind was puzzling him like nothing else, and he silently cursed at Ford's experiment for causing such confusion.
For now, though, all he wanted was to relax.