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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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“He’s so pretty,”
Liechtenstein whispered to no one in particular, all three young women transfixed as they stared in mute fascination at the events that transpired on the other couch.
Francis had Matthew nearly upside-down, lying on his back with his legs strewn gracefully over Francis’ shoulders as he began proficiently to work at the button of his fly. Matthew’s belt was already undone and now Francis was tugging at his trousers, slowly pulling them off as Ivan held Matthew’s upper body in his lap, long fingers raking through the yellow cascade of his hair as it scattered across his thighs.
Matthew gazed up quietly at Francis, his naked chest still wet with wine and he gasped suddenly when, after removing his trousers, Francis began very gently to bite at his thigh.
“Shh…” Ivan consoled him, hands large and warm as he caressed the boy’s brow, it’s okay, keep your voice down.
His legs were slender and naked and long, lined just the slightest bit with transparent yellow hair, articulations hard and elegant. Francis ran his hands with appreciation along the pale expanse of his thighs, gazing down with satisfaction at Matthew gazing silently up, and his eyes darted momentarily to the ladies on the other couch, as if asking,
Shall I?
Shall I, that is, shall I pull down his briefs, and, frozen motionless, three sets of eyes conveyed the unquestionable response,
God, please, yes.
Francis leaned forward then, gazing at Matthew and then at the women and back, and slowly closed his incisors on the white elastic of his briefs. He pulled very slowly, luxuriantly, eyelashes long and batting as he met Matthew’s gaze.
Some things couldn’t be helped.
Westerners.
Perhaps, for Westerners, things went like this. They slept naked, right, they walked around naked and they ate weird stuff like snails, and they did stuff like that openly during holiday parties, and if that’s how it was, then far was it from Kiku Honda to touch the subject or open that can of worms at all. Debauchery like this was nothing new, but debauchery like this casually carried out right there in the open, well—
Well.
Perhaps that’s how it was with Westerners. Alfred and Arthur were gone for quite some time, as well, and, ever reserved and careful in mind, Kiku also wasn’t going to ask about that. It was bad manners on part of the host, but maybe that was a Western thing, too. He remained civilly in the kitchen with Toris and Felix, taking charge of washing the dishes and employing their help as to redeem them for the damage they caused before.
He knew all too well what went on outside, and, deliberately careful not to speak of it aloud, he asked the other boys to stay as he went out to retrieve some of the dirty dishes from within the other hall.
The room was unusually quiet, shrouded in intensity and suspense as Francis very slowly pulled Matthew’s briefs down along the slender length of his thighs. The boy was undeniably beautiful, the very picture of innocence and youth, Francis smiled contentedly to himself, how something so modest and humble was a product of his own upbringing, he never really knew.
Ivan remained disturbingly quiet all throughout, gazing at both Francis and Matthew with mocking serenity, evil to be sure, as though mentally he already had worked out exactly how he was going to ruin and torture them both.
He caressed Matthew’s soft hair with an oddly reassuring palm, protective, consoling, the very palm that would have him helpless and begging in the end—
When Matthew tried, as in force of habit, to gather his limbs and to turn away, they both held him in place, gentle but firm, and France licked at him slowly, long hair a sway of yellow silk against his thighs as his mouth came wetly on his naked flesh.
Matthew didn’t cry out. Brows furrowed in helpless defeat, he squeezed his eyes shut, breath issuing forth through his teeth as he bit down on his palm.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Ivan reprimanded, deliberately moving Matthew’s hand away and instructing him to turn his gaze back, and, with a soft apology, Matthew did.
He was hopelessly hard, member glistening naked and wet in Francis’ hand as the older boy lapped at him carefuly, malevolently slow.
Francis’ blue eyes were seductive, silently tormenting as he gazed through long eyelashes from above Matthew’s thighs, devastating without a single spoken word, staring deliberately at the ladies on the couch.
Matthew moaned innocently in his grasp, helpless in Ivan’s lap as the other boy held him securely in place, that’s a good boy now, don’t stifle your voice, don’t look away. He even slid Matthew’s glasses helpfully back on his face as to make sure he could see.
Breath echoing humid against the slick exposure of Matthew’s inner thigh, Francis spoke suddenly, voice fluid and low but very distinct.
“Kiku, please come here,” he said, bothering neither to turn around nor even alter his gaze.
Dish tray in hand, Kiku stopped in his tracks.
Several moments had passed, time standing still, before, without expression and without a word, Japan had paced silently to join France at his side.
“Kiku, you know Matthew,”
Francis said, and, expression unaffected and unprovoked, Kiku merely nodded, I do.
America’s brother.
“I don’t believe,” Ivan said as he stroked Matthew’s cheek, “that you’ve been properly introduced.”
After a silence, Kiku carefully bowed, eyes large and brown as he met Matthew’s gaze. Matthew gazed silently back, nodding in a curious display of acknowledgment.
Francis’ lips were very red, the skin around his mouth glittering slick as he pulled slowly away, and, for a moment, even Ivan thought he would like to kiss him, to lap at the wetness there—
In France’s hand, Matthew was painfully hard, insistent and red as thin, transparent rivulets ran down the hot length of his member and onto the long articulations of fingers still wrapped all around—
“You haven’t eaten tonight, Kiku, isn’t that right,”
Francis said, and, gaze turning silently toward him, Kiku said nothing for a long time.
“No,” he finally replied, “I haven’t.”
The fluid glistened slick on Matthew’s thighs, trailing wet along the skin and down to Francis’ clothes beneath, and, long fingers firm on his member, Francis beckoned to Kiku, moving enough aside as to give him room.
Silence.
Dark hair shimmering as he bent forth, Kiku reached tentatively out with his tongue, careful and composed as very slowly he lapped at the tip.
Ivan and Francis stared transfixed, neither saying a word, and it was only Matthew’s voice that broke the silence, desperate and soft as, blushing, he turned his face in modesty into the refuge of Ivan’s hand.
To be continued…
A/N: My first boyfriend was Japanese-Canadian, so there will always be a special place in my pants for this particular pair.
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Matthew is Mine