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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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“Who owns you! Who owns you, say it…!”
“Ah! Shit, damn it, Matthew, get off…!”
“Say it, Al!!”
“Ow—you own me, okay? Now get the hell off me—!”
Having beaten Alfred at hockey no fewer than five times, Matthew had his brother in a painful headlock on the rink floor, victoriously straddling him from behind.
“Now say America sucks at hockey. Say it!!”
“Nev—ah!! Fine! America sucks at hockey!!....and Canada sucks at everything el—”
Matthew prepared to tackle him again, but Alfred grabbed his brother in time, swinging him directly onto the floor.
“Shit—!”
Matthew exclaimed, out of breath and red in the face, wisps of hair protruding awkwardly from just under his helmet.
Alfred pulled his own helmet off, hair entirely disheveled and still breathing hard, and, still smiling, he leaned down to kiss Matthew.
“Go easy on me, bro,” he teased ironically, voice very low and soft, “I’m still sore from last night.”
“S—sorry—”
“I’m kidding,”
Alfred laughed, and then, lips moving slowly against Matthew’s,
“It didn’t hurt, it felt good—”
Matthew blushed, coyly grinning despite himself, and his long arms came around the other boy as he began to kiss him back.
“I—I thought—it felt good, too—”
Matthew curiously gazing down, Alfred’s long legs sliding on either side of him, the night before, the both of them naked, Alfred’s hand on his as he slowly stroked himself;
“Go on, you’re wet enough,”
Alfred’s voice had come gentle, hoarse, he pulled him closer by the hand, long waves of yellow hair draping Matthew’s face, he gasped as Alfred gently slid the tip of his member against the opening, and remained silent when Alfred looked up at him then,
“Does this feel good for you?”
Matthew nodded shyly, absently biting his lip in anticipation, very aroused—
“Go on,”
Alfred prompted, large hand at Matthew’s hip as he urged him forth; they both gasped when the head went in, Alfred gently stroking the other boy’s thigh. Matthew was very wet at that time, the fluid running in clear rivulets from the opening to the soft skin beneath and the couch cushions from there, Matthew would blush the next morning as he tried to no avail to wash the upholstery—
He was innocent, gentle, perpetually afraid of hurting his brother, and Alfred brought his hands to Matt’s behind, firmly pressing him forth the rest of the way.
“Sh—shit…!”
Matthew whispered, eyes fluttering shut and lips dry, agape, heart racing in his chest, God, it felt so good—
There came again the very vague recollection of somehow doing this before, Matthew genuinely wondered how it came to be, and more than that, he wondered with whom—
“Matthew, you’re so beautiful,”
Alfred said softly, one hand leaving his hip to brush gently through his hair, and Matthew turned his head to kiss the large palm, hair slowly swinging as he began very gently to move against him,
“Y—you are, too—”
“I know,”
Alfred whispered, pulling him down so he could kiss his lips. He gently brought Matthew’s hand to his neglected anatomy, their long fingers interweaving there, Matthew’s breath flowing humid against Alfred’s mouth, desperate and warm—
“My only beloved,”
he whispered, words coming so soft he wondered if he’d said them at all,
“my hero—”
* * *
Alfred had gotten himself quite lost on his way to Kiku’s house. Still sore from a number of bruises Ivan had given him in his most recent attempt to ‘kick Russia’s ass,’ he’d waded through the intricate network of subways and trains, towering a good six inches above most everyone else in the crowd.
The food was good, though, and everything was immaculately clean, and even though he was tired, Alfred arrived at Kiku’s door in high spirits, mentally having already invited himself to stay the night.
Kiku, who wasn’t expecting visitors, very cautiously opened the door.
“A—America-san—”
he murmured with quiet astonishment, awkwardly extending his hands to accept the bizarre-looking candy that Alfred had brought for him as a gift.
He inspected Alfred’s face for signs of awareness as to what had transpired at the party, but all he found there was good-natured enthusiasm and visible traces of fatigue.
“Hey, Japan! Boy, good thing you’re home, can I use your bathroom?”
“Ah—”
Kiku wondered to himself why Alfred didn’t call before inviting himself over, and, unsure of how to respond, he merely mumbled back,
“S—sure—it’s this way—”
He watched Alfred step inside and quickly reminded him to take off his shoes before showing him the way. He blushed inwardly as he remembered everything he saw, that strong, beautiful body, naked—
Why am I thinking about that again.
Just what did he come here for?
He heard the sound of water running, then the bathroom door opening and Alfred whistling merrily to himself on his journey to the living room. Kiku stepped out of the kitchen with two cups of tea, quietly setting them down on the coffee table before taking his place at Alfred’s side.
Really, after he’d made himself so obscenely comfortable in Alfred’s bedroom, Kiku thought, he had no right to complain about this unannounced visit.
“Hey, thanks…!”
Alfred smiled, reaching for the cup even though he’d just about had his fill of Arthur’s disgusting tea, but this stuff smelled different somehow. He was quite content to be there; after days of aggravation over Francis and Ivan’s supposed treatment of Matthew, hearing that Kiku treated him well roused his curiosity, he felt quite grateful and relieved somehow.
Gently bringing his own cup to his lips, Kiku turned his gaze to the other boy.
“What’s on your mind, America-san?” he asked.
Blue eyes twinkling, Alfred grinned at Kiku as he replied,
“I know all about that stuff at the party…!”
Kiku nearly spat his tea out on the table.
He stared at Alfred with pure, uninterrupted panic, eyes big and terrified.
“Y…you do…?”
he just barely managed to say.
Alfred nodded, still smiling big, “hey, this stuff’s much better than Arthur’s disgusting tea, what’s in this?”
Several moments passed before Kiku managed again to find his voice. “Ah—I—that—”
I’m sorry! I’m sorry…!
He was on the very verge of bursting into a fit of apologetic pleading when Alfred then went on to say,
“Because of that jerk, England, I spent that entire night up in the attic, and then those perverts, France and Russia, completely took advantage of my brother.”
Kiku stared, the blood slowly returning to his face as he realized with an odd sense of amusement that Alfred didn’t actually know anything about—
He closed his eyes, exhaling a long sigh of relief. It still wasn’t right; he would have to let him know—
“America-san—”
he started very softly, but Alfred interrupted him, continuing with his own train of thought,
“And after that, I totally kicked the crap out of those two,” he said, despite the fact that, while he’d smacked up France with some success, both times Ivan had completely beaten him to a pulp.
“—but then yesterday Taiwan and Hungary told me you were there too, and that you treated Matthew well—”
Treated Matthew well. Is that what that was? Taking part in something so cheapening and perverse, that counted as treating Matthew well? He never could understand Westerners…or perhaps—
Kiku raised his eyes to Alfred, very serious now as he proceeded to set down his cup.
“I’m sorry, America-san, but—”
Now Alfred turned to face him, long legs maneuvering as he crossed one over the other, and Kiku couldn’t stop himself from staring, remembering those strong, beautiful legs, naked, his suntanned hips, his slender behind—
Kiku blushed all at once, gaze turning immediately back down to his drink as the other boy continued undisturbed,
“But then even after the party—like, when he was totally sober—Matthew—he’s been all…interested…in doing disgusting stuff, and it’s just been a nightmare, Jeesh!”
This was odd. Kiku thought back to the way Matthew lay beneath him then, delicate, shattered, very nearly in tears, he had consoled him, that’s right, because Matthew wasn’t happy—had he really become interested in that sort of thing?
He bowed his head in modesty—that’s right. Matthew didn’t feel humiliated then. Francis and Ivan’s treatment didn’t actually make him feel bad. It was—
“America-san, there are some things you should know.”
He was sad because he knew I was thinking of you at the time.
Matthew’s body was beautiful, too. He really did look just like Alfred; maybe thinner, more pale, but just as slender and elegant and tall—nevertheless, Kiku remembered that, even then, he had thought of Alfred all throughout—
“The ladies told me Matthew liked the way you treated him, and I think that’s important, I want some advice—”
Advice…? Oh, this was wrong. This was terribly, terribly wrong.
“Were you intimate with him?” Alfred asked, undisturbed, ignoring entirely Kiku’s feeble attempts at conveying information, “Can you tell me what you did? Can you show me?”
Show him? Now Kiku began to feel cheap.
“Jones-san…! With all due respect, I’m not like that, you know…!”
Not like that? Not like what? Oh, I don’t join in public acts of debauchery, I merely spy on others and watch from within their private quarters—
“Exactly!” Alfred motioned with one pointed finger for emphasis. “Oh, thank God you’re not like that. And, boy, was I relieved to hear that Matthew liked that.”
Kiku thought back to that night; Alfred really had it all wrong. I really should never have gotten involved. He never had meant to. It’s true that Francis had called him over, but he could have declined.
He could have—but—
He hadn’t forgotten the look in Francis’ eyes when first he beckoned to him then. Blue, seductive eyes, his lips glistening red, enticing and slick with fluid trailing farther to his chin—
Matthew’s narrow, innocent thighs—
He had wondered to himself then, is that what Alfred is like—
Kiku turned his head away.
“So, anyway, long story short, can you show me what you did with him? So maybe I can get my brother’s interest back—”
“Sh…show you?”
Behind the heavy sway of his hair, Kiku was blushing bright crimson, delicate fingers curled at his mouth; for a brief moment, he thought of Arthur and Alfred up in the attic, Alfred’s voice coming hoarse, the wet echo of flesh striking flesh—
“I—I’m sorry, Jones-san, but—”
But what? But I’m not so innocent after all? After I said explicitly that I’m ‘not like that’?
Gaze averted, he watched from the corner of his eye as Alfred’s long fingers danced around his cup; the small container seemed miniscule, a doll’s accessory in his large hands. Was Alfred really asking him to—
“Just real quick. Just for tonight, I’m really kinda curious, you know?”
Curious.
“—please stop. There’s really some stuff you should know.”
At last, he had Alfred’s attention; but now that he did, he found it very difficult to proceed from there on.
Very slowly, without meeting his eyes, Kiku went on then to relay the events that transpired downstairs of which he was part.
“Those unbelievable bastards,”
Alfred seethed, listening with undivided attention to the first detailed account of said events that thus far he’d heard. Kiku had meant to make clear that he wasn’t some savior, that his hands weren’t clean, but Alfred’s eyes glittered no less with quiet gratitude when Kiku told him how he’d held Matthew in his arms—
And also—
Curiously enough, Alfred found himself thinking it was all quite—
—arousing?
When he finished explaining, Kiku hesitated, having long since decided that Alfred also had to know about what happened after that. He turned his gaze upward very hesitantly, big eyes dark and colored undeniably with shame, surprised to find Alfred gazing back with infinite gentleness, patience and warm regard.
Alfred’s boyish grin. His yellow hair, falling softly on his forehead in diffuse, shiny bundles, his broad shoulders, youthful and strong—
“Aw, come here, you—!”
Alfred laughed, and suddenly his enormous arms came all around the other boy, and Kiku froze in his place, far too astonished for words.
“A—A—A—America-san, please…!”
“You’re just like Matthew, you’re so embarrassed and cute—!”
“N—no, it’s not like that, Am—”
Embarrassed and cute? Kiku was far older than both of those boys. He struggled weakly in Alfred’s embrace, but it was useless all throughout—
The comforting contact of his chest. The soft smell of fabric, the very fine traces of golden blonde stubble just at his cheek, the warmth at the crook of his neck—
Kiku held his breath, eyes closed, heart racing; oh, he was hopelessly aroused.
“A…America-san should know—”
he just barely managed, every fiber of his body fighting to hold himself back,
“I was thinking of you at that time—”
Eyes closed, Kiku waited for Alfred’s long arms to slide away, for him to let go—
But he didn’t let go.
“What?”
“When I was with Canada-san, I—I was thinking of you—”
“Of—of me?”
Ever accustomed to being the center of attention, Alfred hardly seemed surprised. He’d naturally assumed that everyone thought of him at least half the time.
“So, you see, I—”
Kiku’s hair was very soft. It smelled sweet, like shampoo, and he felt so delicate and thin in Alfred’s arms, so fragile, it reminded him of holding Matthew, in a way—
Alfred was curious about the two of them together, and, with childlike curiosity, he then went on to ask,
“So, can I kiss you then?”
Kiku’s eyes went wide, staring dead ahead past the slender bend of Alfred’s shoulder.
“I…I…b-beg your p-pardon…?!”
His entire body trembled then. Eyes tightly shut, he prepared to push the other boy away, but he felt frozen, he couldn’t move—
The dark room. Lying on Alfred’s bed. Lapping the fluid from Arthur’s spent body after the two of them had finished—
“I—America-san should know, I—I saw him and England-san in the attic—”
Silence.
Neither of them moved after he’d said that. Kiku’s eyes opened tentatively, then darted with nervous anticipation around the room; he was almost relieved that he managed to say it aloud.
“You saw…”
Kiku nodded, too embarrassed to speak.
Alfred tried to remember what exactly they did or didn’t do in the attic then. It was all quite profane, the way he remembered—damn that Arthur…
“…and—in your bedroom, too,”
he added very softly, voice almost inaudible then.
Silence.
“You…did?”
“I’m sorry.”
More silence.
“Was…I good?”
Kiku blinked. “Wh…”
“Haha, just kidding, of course I was good! Seriously though, what were you doing in there?”
Kiku blushed, his eyes all the while quite averted; Alfred still hadn’t released his hold.
“I—”
he whispered, voice very embarrassed and small,
“I was watching. Deliberately.”
He swallowed hard, terrified but curiously relieved.
“I’m sorry, Jones-san. So—so, as you can see—I’m really not so clean after all—”
Silence.
“Wow. I mean—really? Really, you were there that whole time? Was it that hot?”
“Ah—!”
Alfred laughed, “Haha, I’m just kidding, seriously, you watched the whole thing?”
“America-san also should know—”
Kiku raised his eyes very slowly, courageously, only inches away from Alfred’s face,
“I—”
really, really like you—
Alfred watched the confession unfold, Kiku visibly trembling in his arms, voice low and wavering soft, yeah, it was pretty weird that he had been there, he thought he may truly never understand Easterners.
Alfred imagined Arthur’s face when he’d tell him that, the entire time, the two of them weren’t alone—oh, Arthur would freak for sure, it would be super awesome, Alfred laughed aloud at the prospect.
Kiku froze.
“You’re laughing. Why are you laughing…!”
“Oh—” Alfred smirked, “no reason…”
Then, growing quiet, he faced Kiku directly, hundreds of years his younger but many times his size,
“You were gonna say something before,”
He said with childlike interest, somehow innocent and naïve, iridescent gusts of sunlight dancing softly in his eyes, and, hundreds of years his elder, Kiku took his face with gentle hands—
Alfred gazed patiently back, curious and expectant, eyelashes fluttering shut.
“It was nothing,”
Kiku mouthed, very carefully bringing his mouth to his,
“nothing at all.”
To be continued…
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- 32
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Matthew is Mine