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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
- 16
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- 18
The boy in his arms was afraid.
There was the warm haze of alcohol, the whispering sounds of an audience murmuring, watching, breath, hot breath of expiration, trembling, Matthew was lightheaded, the room spinning, everything was warm, warm, but he could tell even through the curious fog of intoxication that the boy in his arms was afraid.
Alfred wasn’t a comforting presence to everyone.
Matthew meant to dominate, he meant to act the part, but he found himself kissing Vash very gently, empathically, please don’t be afraid, please don’t feel so down—
He kissed his temple, his forehead and his eyes, there was something going on, something dirty, something unfair, Matthew didn’t know what—
“There’s someone, isn’t there,” Matthew whispered very softly, words ghosting immaterial just outside Vash’s ear, someone you still really love—
Quietly, discreetly, Vash nodded, transparent eyelashes batting, yes, yes—
What happened, Matthew wondered, I’m sorry, I have to do this as not to raise suspicion—
His hand traveled gently to Vash’s chest, down to his abdomen and his thigh, he was trembling, himself, because this wasn’t fair—
Of its own accord, Vash’s chin tilted up, the bony angle of the mandible sharp underneath his white skin, his lips moved silently behind the soft cascade of Matthew’s hair,
“You’re Canada, aren’t you—”
Shivers, traveling electric all through Matthew’s skin, he thought he stopped breathing, he thought he would cry, he wanted to fling his arms all around the boy’s neck and cover him with kisses, you knew, you knew my name—
“I’ve never done this before,” he whispered, “I’ve never been on top, please show me how—”
Vash’s cheeks flushed crimson and warm, his eyes darted aside,
“If you let me lie down, I’ll tell you what to do,” he whispered, “Think you can get me a drink—”
“They’re whispering, what are they whispering?” Taiwan nudged Hungary, and, still in Ivan’s arms, Francis delivered a solid smack to Matthew’s behind.
“No whispering, America…!”
Matthew startled, spinning around and rubbing absently at his rear end, before, impressively in character, he muttered angrily to France,
“What gives, that hurts, you know…!”
And then, without giving Francis a chance to respond,
“Also, I want some more wine.”
Ivan and Francis exchanged amused glances, and, curious to see where this will go, Francis handed Matthew the bottle.
No glass…? Vash wondered, but, seeing the present state of affairs, he didn’t bother to ask.
“Here’s how they gave it to me—”
Matthew whispered very softly. He tilted the bottle to his lips and knelt down, eyes searching Vash’s face as if asking for approval, and when the other boy raised his face toward him, Matthew hesitated.
He hadn’t done this before, either.
The liquor burned on his tongue—just wine, but liquor no less—and, fingers trembling, he gently brushed Vash’s hair away from his face, intimidated, stalling—
Green eyes gazed up at him in quiet irritation, go on, then, he seemed to say, get this over with.
Slowly, slowly, Matthew knelt further down, eyes batting nervously behind his glasses, and, fingers very gentle at Vash’s chin, he kissed him at last.
The boy's lips parted expectantly, that’s my boy, Francis thought, you’ve learned well.
Matthew carefully allowed the fluid to pour into his mouth, relieved almost to feel the bitter taste decrease, and his lips clung lingering to Vash’s, feeling curiously aroused when he felt his tongue wander into his mouth, proficiently, drinking from him—
He was so passionate—
“Tell me what to do,”
Matthew whispered, lips moving wetly against his, in silence,
Tell me what you want—
Eyes closed, Vash felt the wine drain slowly inside, along his teeth and his tongue, it’s just wine, this isn’t strong enough, I’d need—
“More—”
He whispered to Matthew, the wine trailing in a purple stream out the corner of his mouth,
“Give me more—”
“Get lost, you guys,”
Matthew said to Francis and Ivan without turning around, and the two of them stared at each other, eyebrows raised with infinite amusement; we shouldn’t have told him to act the part¸ Ivan thought, I never thought he actually had it in him—
But they did get up and moved to the next chair over, where Francis settled luxuriantly in Ivan’s lap, the both of them now too amused by what Matthew and Vash were doing to indulge for the time being in each other.
Very slowly, Matthew laid Vash down on the couch along its length, hand trembling visibly as he reached again for the wine. I hate the way this tastes, he thought, decanting the bottle again to his lips.
The second time went better, the liquid burned less, Vash guided him carefully, expertly, and Matthew found himself wondering what had happened, what the story was, why his eyes were so tense and severe—
“Undress me,”
Came the quiet instructions, silent and succinct, and Matthew nodded; this was something Alfred had asked of him many times, undress me, make it look like you don’t want to, make it look like you’re afraid—
Was this how he should do it now?
No, Alfred would want to, Alfred would be aggressive, insistent, direct—
It turned him on just to think about it.
Matthew swallowed hard and, composing himself, he reached for Vash’s belt, wishing so much that his hands didn’t tremble as he fussed with the buckle, and, irritated, Vash whispered,
“H..hey…!”
I’m sorry, Matthew thought, wishing for the time being that he didn’t have to do this, that he knew his way around, that—
That the two of them were alone—
He gasped all at once, realizing curiously that what bothered him wasn’t that he was being made to play to an audience, or that he was being taken for everyone’s plaything, or even that he was degraded and spanked and ordered around and abused—
No, he very much enjoyed the attention, in fact—
What he didn’t like, he realized with a start, was that he and this boy weren’t together alone. That this was an act. That it wasn’t for real.
That here was someone still very broken inside, tormented, tightly disciplined and intricately wound, but bleeding, secretly forlorn—
And Matthew couldn’t pry, he couldn't speak of it, he couldn't ask—
All he could do was kiss him, hold him, try to console him as best he could without being too obvious that all that he really wanted to do was console.
To be continued…
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Matthew is Mine