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Whatever You Will Give	By : chi1986 Category: G through L > Hitchhikers Guide Series Views: 4288 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hitchhikers Guide series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Whatever You Will Give
- 1
Title: Whatever You Will Give
Author: Chichan
Pairing: Ford/Arthur
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the great, late DNA.
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Well, after drawing What Sort...?, I got inspired to do a Ford-gets-drunk-and-decides-to-molest-Arthur-fic. XD;;; Sorry, not very imaginative. It didn't turn out quite like I expected either ^^;. Ah, well. At least it's F/A smut until either I finish my comic (Which'll be soon) or I include some in Beauty & Stupid :D.
Description: Ford needs sex. Ford wants Arthur. He's willing to do anything to get him.
HHGTTG-verse: Bookverse, but with Mos Def and Martin Freeman? I don't know. I pictured the movie actors because of the *points* fanart.

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The Guide, being the wholly remarkable book it is, has this and many other things which will not be printed here for lack of space and irrelevancy on Betelgeusians:

Betelgeusians are highly sexual beings who usually have numerous partners in their lifetime. When they are not being satisfied, they can become very moody and desperate. When their dissatisfaction continues, so does their desperation until the poor Betelgeusian feels as if they will go mad and die should they not get a release.

The Guide goes on to say that the best sex is with a desperate Betelgeusian and lists ways in which to find them and coerce them into bed, which doesn’t take much. Usually a ‘Hello!’ is sufficient.

Ford hadn’t had sex in a very, very long time since on Earth. The sex he had had was so very boring, he didn’t enjoy it and the wild encounters he had had had been far too brief (Aliens from somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse have very high stamina). He was frustrated and was missing ‘home’ very much. And he was very smitten with a man–one of his best friends on Earth. Unfortunately for him, the majority of Earth people are very uptight about their sexuality and do not condone two males to mate. He had discovered this when he had tried to bed a very attractive male at a party once.

The Guide has this to say on Relationships with Betelgeusians:

Once they have found a suitable mate, find that they are sexually compatible, and decide they would rather like to spend the majority (if not their whole of their lives together), they become very possessive and jealous over their loved one.

Unfortunately for Arthur Dent, he was the object of his friend’s love. Totally oblivious to this though (Thinking all the touching and suggestive moves of his friend were just him being friendly), Arthur time and again seemed to trigger Ford’s jealousy.

Lucky for him (and the people the jealous anger was mostly aimed at), Ford was good at keeping his cool and reminded himself that his friend didn’t know they were in a relationship just yet.

But tonight, Ford was missing home and he hadn’t been touched by anyone in a very long time. He had thought he could drink it off his mind just like always, but that wasn’t working out. He had drunk so much, he was no longer sure how many drinks that meant. His eyes were so blurred, he could no longer see the sky in which he was hoping he would find a flying saucer (though he knew it to be ridiculous), and Arthur was right to his side. He didn’t hear his friend talking. He had learned to block out Earth people in certain situations because mostly it meant they were just running their mouths to, well, just to be running their mouths. He never missed much.

But Arthur must have asked him a question he expected to get an answer to because he was shaking his friend’s shoulder. Ford’s eyes locked on his friend’s and he blinked a few times to clear his head. Arthur seemed to have a very worried expression on his face.

“Are you all right, Ford?” Said Arthur, articulating the words very clearly as if his friend couldn’t understand English.

Ford shrugged. “Fine.”

Actually, he wanted to say “Fine, but it’s really driving me mad that I want to fuck you all weekend and perhaps longer.” But that wasn’t appropriate. Especially while on a balcony at a party surrounded by people.

Ford turned to stare blankly at the sky. Arthur sighed, giving up. He couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight would end very, very badly.

Ford was thinking the same thing, but he wasn’t worrying about it much. He just acknowledged tonight wouldn’t end like nights usually ended, which was pretty well. He didn’t notice that Arthur had walked away, having given up hope of helping his friend, and was conversing very well with the other people at the party.

No, Ford was too busy thinking about home. How many women and men he knew that he could call in a flash for mind blowing sex, but then he realized if he hadn’t come to earth, then he would never have met Arthur. That thought left a disturbing ache in his chest that he didn’t care to think on.

Removing his hat, Ford rubbed his hand over sweaty flesh and blurrily searched for an attractive candidate to bed. He didn’t find one, but he did notice Arthur seemed to be chatting it up with a very lovely blonde in the corner.

That familiar, aching jealousy flared up that made him want to go “MINE!”, but he managed to beat it down. Well, somewhat. He still felt like he was on fire and his legs wouldn’t quit walking him toward Arthur and his companion.

Arthur turned his head curiously to Ford, who threw his arms around his shoulder. The blonde shot them a very strange look.

“Ah, A-Arthur, let’s get outta here! I-It’s too dull,” Ford slurred, a lazy smile crossing his face.

Arthur was mortified. “F-Ford! Get off now!”

He struggled, and successfully, pulled Ford off, but being as drunk as he was, nearly fell back, so Arthur was forced to support him by the shoulder.

The blonde smiled. “Um, maybe I should go. Your friend. . . . looks like he needs some help.”

Arthur gave another defeated look that quickly twisted into one of desperation. “Wait, no! He’s fine! Aren’t you, Ford?”

Ford was giving the blonde his best “If you insist on staying around Arthur, then you can very well be prepared to lose at least four limbs before you make it to the door”-look which was working because the blonde muttered something apologetic and rushed off.

Arthur felt his heart sink. First woman he had spoken with and she was gone because of his crazy friend. He glared at Ford, but it fought to turn to sympathy when he saw the look on his face, which was rather depressed.

“Ford, what’s wrong with you tonight?”

Ford shrugged, finally able to stand on his own feet (albeit wobbly), he straightened his jacket. “I need to get out of here, Arthur.”

He turned his best pleading eyes to Arthur. “Please?”

And just as Ford though, Arthur cracked. “Okay, okay. Let’s go then.”

And so the two left the party, seemingly as a couple since Ford wouldn’t quite hanging on Arthur. And the two set out to the nearest pub to set up the stage for what would happen that very night.

Because Ford would inevitably get too drunk and declare he was going home, try to find someone to help him find Betelgeuse (Which ended getting him odd stares and harsh comments) until Arthur would inevitably catch him and inform him that he was going to sleep it off at his place.

And that is what happened. They spent two hours drinking in awkward silence and getting very smash, until Ford declared he was leaving and Arthur declared he was going to sleep it off.

But Ford’s usual reaction of “all right” (Or something that sounded like that. Sometimes he would mess up and answer in some alien language that left his friends very confused) was replaced with protests.

“I can go home, Arthur!” He said sternly as he was taken by the shoulders and led home.

“Oh, and so you can call me at two in the morning to bail you out?”

Ford pouted. Arthur walked on (which was difficult since he wasn’t entirely sober himself). The two made it quite awhile, arguing quietly amongst themselves and falling back into awkward silence.

Now in some places in the Galaxy, it is a well-believed fact that everything happens for a reason. Like on Tiltrik VII, where its inhabitants have become so paranoid that something will happen and result in something very, very bad happening later, that they spend their days locked inside, refusing to move from bed. Or occasionally their massive entertainment centers (which they buy so they can live other peoples lives and will not have to deal with the consequences of their own), but the inahbitants of Tiltrik VII have little to do with this story.

But the next thing that happened must have had a reason behind it for what it brought about. Ford tripped because the ground was moving and decided it didn’t like him much at all, and brought Arthur down with him. Both cursed very loudly (though no necessarily in the same languages) as they hit the ground.

Arthur had landed right on top of Ford, who was looking mortified himself now. “A-Arthur, move.”

Arthur glared up at him. “Arthur,” Ford murmured. The feel of his friend’s body pressed against his was having an indecent affect on his body. The fact that he had felt ready to fuck anything that moved all day didn’t help.

He felt his cheeks burn as he gave a little shove to Arthur who must have noticed something because his face went from annoyed to very, very flushed.

“Move.”

“Uh, right.” Arthur scrambled to his feet and offered Ford his hand (which was hesitantly taken).

And they walked again. Luckily for them both, Arthur’s house wasn’t very far now and they arrived fairly quickly. Arthur was ignoring the quiet groans Ford let every time he had to steady him.

Once at the house, Ford leaned heavily to the side of the house. His white clothes were stained and dirty and his hat sat quite lopsidedly on his head. He was also very warm and had sweat dripping from his forehead. Arthur looked at him, very concerned.

He leaned in close to tip his friend’s hat back and felt his forehead. Ford groaned. “A-Are you all right? You don’t look very well.”

Ford’s eyes darted open and in a very weak willed moment, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Arthur’s neck. His friend instantly froze.

“I don’t think I can stand this anymore,” Murmured Ford, his hands grabbing Arthur’s shirt and pulling him closer.

“I mean, I haven’t fucked anyone in so long, I can’t remember the last time!”

Arthur swallowed, considered what would be best in this situation, decided to panic and shove Ford away and then put as much distance between their bodies as possible.

Ford blinked, confusedly. “Come on, help me out!” He whined, his voice hoarse.

Arthur opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of anything to say that would make sense. But that was difficult because this situation didn’t make sense. “But, Ford, we’re men!”

Ford rolled his eyes and closed the distance between them again (Which was done less than elegantly because the ground was still angry at him). He panted and clung to Arthur, trying to press as much of his body against him as he could.

“Come on, give me anything. I need you.”

Arthur was torn. Part of his mind (a very small, back part that was dark, scary and disused) found it very nice to be needed and wanted by Ford, but the rest was very shocked, disgusted, and had the intentions of planning an escape route. None came to mind.

Ford desperately placing heated kisses on his neck now, his hands clinging desperately to Arthur’s shirt.

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Give me this, just one night,” Ford panted desperately (and rather temptingly) in Arthur’s ear.

But the larger part of Arthur’s brain won out and was not very happy that it’s body was responding quite well to the kisses and pawing. He ended up shoving Ford away again, giving a distasteful glare as he felt around for his keys.

“Enough! You’re sleeping this off, Ford,” He said sternly.

But Ford was not giving up so easily. He had already made his way back toward Arthur and was ‘aiding’ in his search for keys. When Ford’s hands found the slight bulge in his trousers, a wicked grin came to his face.

“So, you want me to?”

Arthur shook his head. “Stop it! You bloody moron, I don’t want you.”

“Then what’s this?” Ford rubbed over the bulge suggestively which earned a squeak.

“Well, that... Well, that is to say, that it’s, it’s....”

Arthur swallowed, wearing the expression of a lost deer caught in the headlights as all humans do when something is very frightening and seemingly unescapable. “Well, what’s going to happen when you’re doing that?”

‘That’ was nipping at his neck like Ford was doing again. It was probably the alcohol, but Arthur decided he had ceased struggling with his friend and was more clutching him closer. He was so warm, his skin was so slick. Arthur felt it was downright obscene.

Finally, the realization that his neighbors could see them dawned on Arthur and he was pushing Ford off again. “Stop.”

Ford leaned against the wall, a lusty look on his face as he watched his friend fish for his keys and go to open the door. “Back pocket,” Arthur said, sheepishly smiling.

The minute Arthur had stepped in the door, Ford was on him again, arms wrapping around him and trying to kiss him once again. Lucky for Arthur, his sofa was very close, so he maneuvered Ford over there (and tried to ignore the fact that the fevered kisses were becoming increasingly pleasurable) and pushed him down onto it.

Ford looked up, breathless. He bit his lip in a way that Arthur found to be very indecent. Actually, everything about Ford was indecent right about now.

He lay, sprawled on the sofa with his legs spread invitingly, his erection was very proudly attempting to show itself through his pants, and his skin was nicely slick.

Arthur bit his own lip. “Sleep it off, Ford.”

Ford pouted. “It won’t help. I’ve tried.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘you’ve tried’?”

Ford whined as his hand went desperately his cock, desperate for release. Arthur averted his eyes. “I want you so much, I can’t stand it. Your smell is enough to put me in this state. And your touch. . . Ah,” Ford made an obscene sound as if that conveyed what it did.

Arthur flushed. He had never noticed. He tried to reassure himself that it was the alcohol talking and not his friend because Ford had never seemed to be ‘that way’ to him. He had never. . . . When Arthur had nearly convinced himself of this, all the times Ford had touched him in what had been assumed to be a ‘friendly’ way came rushing back.

“Please, just tonight... Anything you want to give me is all right, Arthur. We don’t have to speak of it ever again,” Ford pleaded.

Arthur licked his lips. No, he wasn’t seriously considering this. “Are you mad? It won’t be the same.”

“What won’t be?” Ford was now desperately stripping himself.

Arthur stopped him very prompty by kneeling down and grabbing him by the shoulders. Ford took this very wrongly though and rested his head on his friend’s shoulder, panting desperately.

“Our friendship, Ford. Do you think we could. . . I mean, could you. . . .”

“It’s just a fuck,” Ford lied. “It won’t mean anything.”

Arthur contemplated this. “No, it would. I don’t think I could look at you the same way.”

Ford planted a quick, scorching kiss on Arthur before he could continue. Arthur tried to gasp and squeak at the same time, failed and went to that nice old stand by of “. . .!” Which seemed to suit a lot of things really, but seemed to fit particularly well when in this sort of scenario of being kissed by one’s friend of the same sex.

Ford finally pulled back. “Believe me, nothing will change. I’ve fucked a lot of people and still hold very good friendships with them.”

Suddenly, Arthur found his will shattering. It hit with such a force that he jumped back and nearly took Ford with him. He tried to reason with that very small, dark place of his mind which seemed to be in control, but all it could say was “Take him!”

And to Arthur’s suddenly lustful brain, it seemed very easy to consider this a night of very desperate men enjoying themselves before getting up and going on their normal lives. He thought back to school and how the boys seemed to like to have ‘fun’ with each other and that seemed to be all right. Even if Arthur hadn’t ever participated in their antics.

Ford was grinning, lying back on the sofa with one leg bent up and arms behind his forehead. “Give me whatever you want to. Whatever you’re comfortable with, Arthur.”

Arthur looked a bit leery as he looked at his friend. He wasn’t bad looking really. The smile was unnerving, but he had very nice, dark skin, eyes that were locked intently on his right at the moment, and even if he was a tad eccentric, he was a friend. Arthur considered this and corrected himself. He had been a mostly good friend (He had to take into account all the times he had nearly ended up arrested because of Ford’s own antics).

But he hadn’t considered men attractive before, so he was uncomfortable with that thought. It was pushed to that very small corner. He swallowed. “No more kissing.”

Ford nodded acceptingly. “That’s fine.”

“I don’t want to go. . . . Um, how should I say this? That’s to say, I don’t want you to put. . . . anything, um. . . i-in me,” Arthur muttered as quickly as he could.

Ford nodded again, but more reluctantly. Arthur sighed, cast another glance at Ford and shook his head.

Ford was already moving in again, sitting up so that he could pull his friend’s shirt over his head. Arthur was trembling now.

“Ford, I don’t know if I can go through with this or not.”

“Of course you can. Just sit back and let me undress you.”

Arthur did as he was told. His shirt was discarded somewhere behind the sofa and Ford was moving to his pants. That’s when he tensed.

“N-No! Ford, I’m really quite positive I can’t do this!”

Ford gave him another pleading stare and took his hands, placing them on clothes. “Then take mine off. Don’t you want to see me?” He panted.

Arthur’s hands seemed to work of their own accord because first they grabbed his satchel and tossed it carelessly aside, Ford seemed like he was about to protest the rough treatment, but quickly closed his mouth because a hesitant tongue flicked over his throat.

Ford groaned as lips replaced tongue. “Oh, Arthur,” He panted, arching into the lips.

Before he knew it, coat, jacket, and waistcoat had been discarded, and Arthur was nervously removing his tie. Ford panted, lost in the sensation of those lips on him and began to wonder what they would feel like elsewhere.

When Arthur began to remove his shirt, Ford leaned back, watching him intently. “Will you suck me off?”

Arthur choked at the bluntness and turned wide-eyes to his friend. “W-What?”

Ford grinned. “Will you suck me off?” He repeated, for once not feeling very annoyed at having to repeat himself.

Arthur licked his lips and eyed the bulge wearily as if it were something threatening. Ford grinned even broader. “It doesn’t bite.”

Despite himself, Arthur smiled. “I’ve never done that,” he confessed.

Ford shrugged. “You don’t have to put it in very deep. I just want to feel myself inside you. . . somewhere. And if you don’t like it, you can always just use your hand.”

Arthur flushed again, wondering if his friend was always so blunt in these matters, but for some reason, he felt himself even more turned on by the talk. He reluctantly nodded.

“If that’s what you want.”

And it was what Ford wanted. It was all he had been thinking about recently. He leaned back, preparing to unzip his pants when Arthur stopped him. “I’ll do it.”

Ford relaxed back as Arthur unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, slide them down in one movement.

Arthur looked over his friend’s naked torso, hairless. And so was everything else. He had a minimal hair even around what he had started in his mind to call ‘It’. ‘It’ seemed to be needing attention very badly.

Arthur licked his lips and leaned over, he looked up, flushed, decided it was better to not think about what he was doing and to whom. He flicked his tongue over the head and was pleasantly surprised. The taste wasn’t as foul as he had imagined.

And so Arthur opened his mouth and prepared to take him inside, still ignoring his brain that was berating him for his lack of good judgement.

And Ford was enjoying this entirely too much. He hissed when that warm, silky mouth enveloped him, little by little as Arthur tested the waters, so to speak.

Now as Arthur went about this, he didn’t now that people from somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse had orgasms that were slightly different. They lasted longer and they could be very vocal during it. Betelgeusians also had the odd habit of wanting to feel the body of their lovers close to them.

So since Ford hadn’t had sex for awhile and was already very turned on by the scene, it didn’t take long for him to reached orgasm. He came with a howl and a jerk that had Arthur jumping up thinking he had done something horribly wrong. It wasn’t until Ford’s arms came around him very harshly and pulled him down that Arthur realized what was happening.

And he was entranced by it. Even though Ford had dirtied his stomach and consequently, Arthur’s, he was still very hard, so Arthur set back to work, leaning up closing his hand around his friend. He stroked very hard.

Arthur noted with some satisfaction that this seemed to drive Ford even more wild. He was making various obscene noises, some of which were curses in other languages he had learned but Arthur wouldn’t have known that.

After a bit more of that, Ford finally seemed to be calming down. He collapsed back on the sofa, a worn-out smile on his face as he opened his eyes lazily.

“Mmm, that was. . . good.”

Arthur smiled. “Yes, I could tell.”

Ford shifted underneath him. “Sit up, it’s your turn.”

Arthur flushed. “Maybe we shouldn’t do that. . . .”

“It’s a bit too late to have doubts, so you may as well get something out of this, too,” He said. Arthur thought this over and thought it sounded reasonable (Besides, he didn’t think he could stand putting off release anyway).

Before he moved away, he experimentally licked Ford’s stomach, cleaning him off. This seemed to catch Ford off guard, but in a good way. He purred as he watched Arthur clean him.

“You’re right. It’s too late for doubts or regrets,” Arthur said quietly, glancing up sheepishly.

Arthur moved to sit on the sofa and Ford, slipping his own pants back up, realized he suddenly wanted to taste his friend very badly. He moved, cleaning himself off of Arthur’s stomach first, earning a few sharp intakes of breath. Once finished, Ford smiled. “I guess I got a bit carried away.”

This earned an uneasy laugh. Ford went about unzipping Arthur’s pants, slipping them down his legs. He was pleased to find his friend in no less need than he had been in earlier.

Arthur’s hips jerked much of their own accord as he was taken very quickly into Ford’s mouth. And the sight of his cock all the way in his friend was almost enough to make him lose it right though.

“F-Ford! Oh, God!”

Ford was doing many things with his mouth which Arthur decided must have been very illegal, but it felt good, so he didn’t mind.

Ford moaned around him and that plus the sight which still held Arthur entranced was enough to make him go over the edge. He arched back, a strangled “Oh, God! Ford!” Escaping his lips.

Before Arthur had gathered his wits back about him, Ford had moved very quickly and placed a passionate kiss on his lips. Arthur seemed to become very aware of this all too soon.

He instinctively tried to push him off, but Ford was surprisingly strong.

Arthur’s mouth was forced opened. He moaned despite the panic and anger, when he realized he could taste himself. He could even still taste traces of Ford, too. But he gathered his will back up and gave one, final shove which landed Ford on the floor, looking puzzled.

“I said no kissing!” Arthur growled.

Ford looked genuinely apologetic. “I got carried away again. I thought maybe you would like to see how you tasted anyway.”

Arthur flushed and started down at his friend who remained on the floor. He thought of many things to say, but nothing would come out of his mouth. Which was very strange for humans as it was usually the other way around, with things spilling out of their mouth and their mind’s unable to think of anything.

Arthur finally sighed and shook his head, everyone occasionally got wrapped up in the moment, right? “Forget.”

Ford had already moved back to the sofa and was wrapping his arms around Arthur’s shoulders. “Come on, I’m not finished with you yet.”

Arthur gave his friend a warning glare. “What do you mean?”

Ford smiled faintly. “You’ll see.”

Even though the rest of the night passed with only a few more shy actions from Arthur and ones growing bolder each time by Ford, and ended with them sleeping in separate rooms (Arthur going off to his bedroom, leaving Ford to sleep on the sofa), the next day was treated as if nothing happened.

And as days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years, Ford gave up the hope that Arthur would ever feel the same way about him.

Actually, he began to wonder if it wasn’t all a dream brought on by too much alcohol because as they had agreed, nothing had changed.
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Whatever You Will Give