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Matthew is Mine	By : flagfish Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 9688 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, nor do I make any money from writing this story.

Chapter List
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Matthew's voice came hoarse and brittle when finally Francis moved in.
Bent on all fours with his head in Ivan's lap, his lips still glistened wet with fluid as he cried out.
“You're supposed to keep his mouth occupied, Ivan,”
Francis sighed, slender hips moving slowly, until the bony iliac crests were pressing into the curve of Matthew's behind, hard enough to leave marks.
Matthew's voice could be heard as far down as the kitchen, closed door and all, and, long since finished with the dishware, Toris sat silently across from Felix, pretending he didn't know exactly what was going on in the other room.
“W...would you like some more..coffee...”
he murmured awkwardly to his counterpart, who, uncertain as to what the matter was, but nevertheless aware that there was, in fact, some matter, nodded quietly as he slid his cup across the way.
Out in the living room, Francis slowly pulled Matthew upright from behind until his back lay against Francis' chest, and the boy released Ivan's member with great reluctance as the fluid trailed silver out the corner of his mouth.
“Touch yourself, Matthew,”
Francis crooned, voice breathy as slowly he moved into him, and, attempting to stifle his voice, Matthew tentatively slid his long fingers around the hard insistence of his member. Over his shoulder, Francis watched with vast amusement, hips moving gradually and long hair pouring over the boy's shoulder.
“You're very wet,”
he observed, words issuing forth like some sort of reprimand, and, suddenly taking Matthew's hand by the wrist, he pulled it upward, bringing it to Matthew's mouth.
Before the boy in his arms could protest or express any opinion at all, Francis pressed the digits in, and Matthew tensed all at once as he moaned around them.
“Is it good?”
France crooned behind the shell of his ear, still holding tightly to Matthew's wrist, hips sill swaying.
He laughed softly without letting him respond, still not releasing him as he whispered,
“You're so tight, Matthew. Does Alfred really play with you enough?”
Ivan was absently stroking himself as he watched this unfold, and the girls eyed him with blatant desire. What a waste; any of them would gladly have volunteered to help out.
“I beg your pardon,”
Liechtenstein very softly spoke up, voice quivering silent and hand politely raised, and, turning his gaze with much cordial attention, Francis waited for her to go on.
“—but would Mr. France and Mr. Canada please attend to Mr. Russia—”
Hungary stared at her younger counterpart, eyebrows rising to her hairline with combined amusement and surprise, but then Taiwan spoke up, as well,
“But don't stop what you're doing now.”
Entirely collected and composed, Francis grinned, all charm and warm regard as he bowed forth a bit, Matthew's wrist still tight in his hand.
“How careless of me,”
He crooned, winking at them as he bit gently on Matthew's ear.
“Apologize to the ladies, Canada,”
he whispered, and, murmuring something indecipherable around the digits in his mouth, Matthew made a feeble attempt at escape.
“What's that?”
Francis asked in low tones, and, defeated, Matthew gazed over his shoulder at him, eyes shimmering liquid blue.
“I can't believe you guys,”
Hungary mumbled, but, she, too, continued staring, transfixed.
Very slowly, so that the girls could see, Francis pulled Matthew's fingers out the boy's mouth, trailing slick and wet, and Matthew coughed in relief and aftershock when at last his mouth was free, soft strands of his hair hanging damp at his brow.
Francis brought Matthew's hand back to his neglected anatomy, closing the long fingers around it again as he murmured at his ear,
“Apologize, go on.”
“I'm sorry,”
Matthew whispered, voice very brittle and soft, and he gasped when Francis proceeded then to slide the slick digits along the aching length of his member.
“That's a good boy,”
Came the reply, and he kissed his temple in reward.
Francis slowly pulled out, breath coming hot and head tilted downward as he watched, and he gave Matthew a brisk slap to the behind as he said,
“Go on, attend to Mr. Russia.”
“Ahh—!”
Matthew cried, startled by the impact as he turned absently to rub at the tender skin there.
“Mind your manners, go on.”
Murmuring in apology, Matthew rose slowly to his feet, the fluid trailing wet down the length of his thighs as he approached Ivan. The older boy took him with knowing gentleness into his arms, pulling him inward by the hand and adjusting him in his lap.
Matthew didn't need to be told how to proceed from there.
His long arms came carefully around Ivan's neck, and, yellow hair cascading over the bony angles of his shoulders, he began very slowly to kiss him, passionately, lovingly, with tenderness that came second nature to him but that was cultivated over the years with deliberate intent.
Ivan smiled in approval, proficient as he kissed him back and deliberately not entering in, tempting though the prospect were.
“That's very nice,” Francis said in appreciation, observing for a few moments before taking his place behind Matthew. Bending his knees just a bit, he slid one arm around the younger boy, gazing downward as he adjusted himself in place.
He moved inward even as Matthew was kissing Ivan still, so that this time at least his voice came stifled and not quite so distinct and loud.
Matthew clung on desperately, tensely, hair swinging and eyes tightly closed, and, hips swaying fluid from behind, Francis waited patiently for him to come up for air so that he could kiss Ivan, too.
To be continued...
- 11
- 12
- 13
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Matthew is Mine