Warnings: Empire/colony, kind of youngish!Matthew, frottage?
Characters/Pairings: England and Canada; UKCan, references to kind of awkward UKUS
Summary: France was America's first. So it was only natural that England be Canada's first... right?
Notes: What is this, a post? Who does that? Me, apparently! I wrote this for the kink meme, enjoyed it way too much and now here it is, de-anoned. If OP is out there on the horizon of LJ, I loved your comments! Here it is!
Matthew was never the favorite. Even when his face thinned out and his pockets of pudge hardened into muscles along his bones, there was always a twine between him and being the favorite. Even as he half-stumbled into the dimly lit room, falling to his knees by the hearth and leaning the side of his head against his empire’s knee—th-thunk his heart beat through his head, he was so tired—the hearth warmed him from behind and the dark walls suffocated him.
Even the gentle way Arthur’s hands brushed through his long blonde locks seemed lacking of sorts because Alfred always got three, four strokes to his head and he preened like a bird at the action— Matthew glanced up at Arthur, from his stained breeches to his trim waist up past the lapels and brocade and shiny hand-polished buttons to the stubble on his chin to the weary creases his forehead made as he read letter after letter in his other hand. They were bathed in a river of scarlet, Matthew’s too-big jacket falling over his knees and Arthur’s unfastened, draped over his shoulders. The firelight was low; night had finally fallen. Sweat beaded Arthur’s brow, and Matthew gulped. Arthur’s hair was getting too long again.
“You’re a tad warmish,” Arthur murmured, and he tore his eyes away from the parchment to stroke his thumb along Matthew’s forehead. “Are you feeling alright lad?”
“Still a tid dizzy,” Matthew responded, and he closed his eyes. Arthur smelled of sulfur. The colony reached up and twirled his curly hair around his fingers absent-mindedly in the same manner as the Savannah girls he’d met just the other day. Matthew leaned back against Arthur’s knee, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, sucking up Arthur’s sent. His stomach tumbled and he could feel bile creeping up his throat, although whether it was from actual sickness or unhibited arousal was unclear.
Matthew lurched a bit, pitching forward, hands connecting to the wooden floor and suddenly Arthur was beside him, rubbing his back in tender circles and Matthew shivered. “War is hard on young colonies.” Matthew licked the spit from his dry cracked lips and cast his eyes upwards, looking through dark lashes at the subject of his desires. His toes curled in and he gulped as Arthur pushed his bangs away from his eyes, tracing his thin face with a wayward hand.
“You’ve grown so,” Arthur murmured, slightly in awe. Matthew swallowed and just focused on Arthur.
Never the favorite. But maybe his fortunes would change.
Unless he was still looking at Alfred with those eyes. The thought of his brother nearly made him double over once more, and he pictured his perfect brother with his lightly bronzed skin, high cheekbones and strong jaw, honey-color hair and big brought blue eyes, looking strong and proud and not borderline sick like Matthew always looked, his hair pulled back with a blue ribbon and Francis smiling over his shoulder.
“You look distant, what’s bothering you? It was the last battle, wasn’t it?” Arthur asked, and he discarded the letters and instead sat on his heels and stroked a hand through Matthew’s hair. “It was tough, especially with—with Francis and him looming at you from so close by.” Matthew simply nodded. His stomach flipped again and his entire waist tightened up as if the only way to relieve his discomfort would be to discard all his clothing all together, something he’d been fantasizing about for who knows how long…
A bead of sweat trailed down Arthur’s face, cupping his cheek and tipping his chin.
Alfred stood so close to Francis.
Matthew locked eyes with Arthur, and Arthur gave him an uncharacteristically reassuring smile; it was brimming with lies just underneath the surface.
Francis put his arm on his shoulder, his arm, his wrist, touching his skin gently, and Alfred’s eyes shone unlike before, and they almost fit together like a puzzle, how could he compete with such an intimate pair how could he ever win—
Matthew leaned forward and pushed his lips to Arthur’s, and for less than a sweet second his mind had two million thoughts at once, all centered on pleasure and feeling and scent and have you ever kissed Arthur, Alfred?
Arthur froze, eyes open, and then shoved Matthew back and fell back to the floor, Matthew leaning back on his arms, lips bright red with matching cheeks although his skin had turned to ash in color. The hearth crackled without a thought to the scene before it.
“M-Matthew—!” Arthur sputtered, but his cheeks were red too and somehow the tension in the room shifted and Matthew could feel those tendrils of attraction connecting them. “What are you doing?” Matthew licked his lips again and remained where he was, shivering slightly with fear and desire.
“I—I would be lying if I said ‘n-nothing’,” Matthew said in what he hoped would be a strong voice but came out high and squeaky. Arthur just stared at Matthew in return, breathing through his nose. “I…” Matthew trailed off and Alfred’s face swam before his eyes, jeering at him and holding hands with Francis in a way that was so mocking Matthew violently shook his head and shouted “NO!”
Arthur jumped and the house seemed to tremble at Matthew’s words but Matthew sat up, ringing his hands.
“What I mean is… I-I think… I don’t think we’re connected in the same way as Alfred and Francis,” Matthew mumbled and he winced as Arthur winced at Alfred’s name because he knew Arthur would never feel so strongly about Matthew but it didn’t matter. “I think… I think they’ve been… intimate. And—and because of that they’re more unified and—“ Matthew stopped, clenching his hands into fists. Arthur took a tentative breath.
“And I’m a virgin.” Arthur gazed past Matthew, into the hearth, the letters he was reading before scattered about the room. He then closed his weary eyes and sighed.
“You’re probably right,” Arthur said, softer than before. Matthew said nothing. “About them, I mean.” Matthew’s breathing increased and the tightness in his groin returned—oh, he’d been a teenager for at least fifty years now, when would his pseudo-puberty end?—but Arthur moved towards him and placed a hand to his cheek and Matthew couldn’t help but close his eyes, I am so in lovelust with you did you know I think about you in my darkest fantasies? and Arthur leaned in so close his breath dusted Matthew’s ears and his skin crawled with delight as his lips ghosted the shell of his ear—
“It has to happen naturally, organically,” he whispered in such a soft, sensual voice that Matthew wanted to tighten himself into a ball to keep from exploding. “I’m not going to harassingly seduce you like Francis does, my dear Matthew.” Matthew gulped and nodded, his cheek grazing Arthur’s tired stubble along his chin. Arthur’s hand settled on Matthew’s waist and Matthew wondered if maybe Arthur had been planning this all along because those tendrils tightened up and surrounded them both.
“But not now,” Arthur said, and he placed his hand from Matthew’s waist to his neck instead and Matthew already felt closer to Arthur if they waited and Alfred and Francis were beyond this close how much of a chance will they stand later?
“We have a battle to fight tomorrow,” Arthur murmured and he stood, bringing Matthew up with him. “Good night.”
It took Matthew two hours, four candles and one change of his sheets to fall asleep.
That natural, organic opportunity came not three days later.
Matthew hadn’t been avoiding Arthur so much as now that Arthur had agreed to live out Matthew’s fantasies, the colony had trouble looking at the elder nation.
They fought hard the next few days but after the battle ended and both Matthew and Arthur witnessed the way in which Francis tucked Alfred’s hair behind his ears and swatted at his rump, Matthew’s toes twitched and Arthur felt anger roiling in his stomach.
Matthew practically fell into the front room chair in a heap. When he’d gone for water during the battle, he had taken it so quickly and so forcefully that he assumed the burning in his throat and sinuses and his light-headedness were effects of battle… but not the roughly four jiggers of pure gin he’d consumed.
The colony felt warm and lucid and sweet, not even bothering to tug his boots off as he’d normally do and instead laid back against the straight-backed chair and closed his eyes, melting into the seat. He nearly missed Arthur’s clicking tongue and his persistence of “Matthew. Matthew.”
“Hmm?” Matthew said, opening his eyes and focusing on Arthur’s lopsided smile as he entered the dimly lit sitting room. It was the same room Arthur had been in three days earlier when Matthew had proposition him.
This time, Arthur was much more willing. Matthew’s breathing increased as Arthur walked up to him, eyes narrowed, wearing an expression Matthew couldn’t quite place. The elder empire crouched down so he was eye-level to the young nation, and he reached out a scarred hand and pushed back the lapel of his woolen scarlet jacket, looking at the pristine white shirt underneath that had avoided being stained with mud.
“You’ve kept your reds clean,” Arthur said softly, as he stood and shucked his own coat. He carried it across the room to wear a bucket of now cold water and dipped it in, soaking the mud from its fibers.
The entire time Arthur was crossing the room, Matthew was watching him, squeezing the edges of the chair. He wanted this more than anything.
Never the favorite. The words burrowed into his brain like an insect, but the backs of his ears were burning and his eyes were glued to Arthur as the Englishman re-crossed the room, crouching down once more to face Matthew—
Matthew leaned forward and pressed a forced, messy kiss to Arthur’s lips. Arthur took a deep breath but remained where he was, placing his hands on Matthew’s thighs to steady himself, causing a shiver to race up Matthew’s spine with the contact. Arthur broke the kiss and leaned against Matthew’s knees, going in again, moving his hands from the younger’s legs to his cheeks, his ears and his chin, holding his face firmly, caressing his chin and cheeks, using his expert lips and tongue to pry Matthew’s lips apart. Matthew was rigid, unsure of what to do, creating fists at his seams but he allowed Arthur to hover over him and take control. He gasped as he felt a foreign tongue against his lips, his teeth, his own tongue—but when he tried to reciprocate Arthur just hummed in approval and put a hand to the back of Matthew’s head, gently tugging at long strands of wavy hair.
Arthur pulled away from Matthew, opening his eyes and smiling at the younger. A thin trail of saliva was left between their lips and Arthur leaned in to kiss it away. Lost in his erratic breathing Matthew remained pressed into the chair, his chest heaving, his breeches feeling unbearably tight and his mind racing.
Arthur stood up, rolling his dirty sleeves up and wiping at some stray dirt along his cheek as he walked down the hallway, back to his bedroom. When he reached the end he blew out the lantern light, turned back, smiled, and then went into the room.
One instant Matthew was sitting in the chair, very aroused and incredibly dumbfounded, and the next two and a half seconds found him in Arthur’s quarters, bathed in light from the dying embers of the fireplace, sandwiched between the wall and Arthur. Arthur, who was breathing life into the trembling colony with his lips, pressing his knee between Matthew’s legs, causing Matthew to utter a soft oh at the strange and pleasant feeling.
Arthur pushed Matthew’s head back against the door, exposing his white neck and marking it up with licks and nips. Matthew closed his eyes and nearly allowed his knees to buck out from under him as Arthur ran his hands down Matthew’s body, making passionate, hungry sounds to meet Matthew’s whimpers and gasps. Having someone else against you was much better than solo, Matthew thought.
“Yer so—so beautiful,” Arthur murmured against his tender flesh as he wrapped his arms around Matthew’s lower back and tugged him away from the door, instead pulling him flush against his own chest. “Just…” he trailed off and Arthur kissed Matthew’s lips once more, stepping back and pulling Matthew forwards to the bed.
Matthew was laid down on his back against the bedraggled sheets, sinking into the pillows as Arthur straddled his hips and pulled Matthew’s jacket off, placing it on the edge of the bed. Matthew’s erection was poking through his breeches, and it turned the nation’s face bright red as Arthur loomed over him. But Arthur just smiled that smile (the one he always thought reserved for Alfred but here it was, it was his now) and leaned his full weight forwards, bringing his leg up and pressing against his member and Matthew moaned.
He was immediately embarrassed by it and he flushed darker than he already was, panting with saliva on his lips and thoughts fluttering through his brain.
“I—I—ah,” Matthew murmured as Arthur pressed down again. The empire leaned forwards and pressed a wet kiss to Matthew’s forehead, smoothing down the younger’s hair.
“It’s alright, Matthew, no need to be embarrassed,” Arthur soothed. “You’ve never lain with anyone else, correct?”
“Y-yeah,” Matthew mumbled, and Alfred flashed through his mind once more, standing so unbearably close to Francis—
Hot breath tore Matthew from his thoughts and instead he gasped once more and Arthur chuckled.
“Relax, dear boy,” Arthur said as he again smoothed hair from Matthew’s brow. “I promise you, it won’t hurt. It’ll feel strange, but good.” Matthew opened his eyes to half-mast and nodded, his hands on the pillows beside him, wishing for Arthur to just get on with it.
“I’ll tell you what’s happening if you don’t understand,” Arthur said as he peeled another layer of clothing from his own body, revealing layers of old muscle and a smattering of white scars. “Just relax.” With that Arthur pressed his pelvis against Matthew’s, lining up their hips, giving Matthew a testing buck before pressing down and Matthew’s legs popped up as his entire body trembled with how insanely amazing it felt. He pushed his head back into the pillows, trying to bury his blushing, sweaty face but Arthur wouldn’t let him and instead Arthur just kissed his face to distract him.
“Don’t hide, I want to see you,” Arthur murmured to him. He kissed his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and Matthew opened his eyes again to gaze up at Arthur.
Arthur reached down to Matthew’s waist and untied his breeches, pulling them down to his thighs and urging Matthew to dispose of them. Matthew, who was still wearing his shirt and resembled the color of his jacket, obliged, wiggling them off and tossing them aside. He didn’t like how exposed he felt, with his legs and his stomach exposed, not to mention the glaring erection before him. He wanted to hide his face again but he swallowed instead and was grateful when Arthur leaned back down to engross him in another kiss.
In one swift movement Arthur’s breeches were gone and he had reached over Matthew to the table beside his bed, grabbing a small jar from beside a basin on the table. He opened the jar and covered his hands in what appeared to be some sort of oil—and then applied the oil to Matthew’s member.
Matthew shivered as suddenly Arthur’s hands were on his cock. That was something he didn’t expect. It sent a strange sensation through his nerves, but it wasn’t altogether bad, it was nice and felt really good in a really guilty way and Matthew’s toes curled into the sheets as he allowed another moan to be heard. They were coming more frequently, along with a sudden light-headedness that was completely unrelated to the alcohol he’d consumed earlier, he was sure.
As Matthew lay in the suddenly way-too-hot bed, he wondered if this was what Alfred had felt—a certain lightness with a rush of just pleasure. And then Arthur’s hands had abandoned his body as he was reaching over for more oil, murmuring comforting sounds and continuing his “relax, relax” mantra and Matthew bit his lower lip.
“A-Arthur,” he mumbled when Arthur was still leaning over him. Arthur glanced down, squeezing his legs along Matthew’s thighs, and saw that Matthew had trailed his own hands up his shirt, and he looked as red and lovely as he imagined with his bright blonde hair every which way and sweat dripping down his face and he said softly “Why did you stop touching me?”
“If I don’t prepare properly, it’ll hurt,” Arthur said and he rubbed his hands together as he leaned over and kissed Matthew’s forehead. But then Matthew grabbed one of his slicked hands and placed it on his abdomen, guiding Arthur’s hands over his sensitized skin. Matthew closed his eyes at Arthur’s touch and turned his head, breathing tersely through his nose, saying oh softly over and over again.
If Arthur hadn’t been fully aroused before he certainly was now and he knew—they’d both enjoy this.
Arthur’s lips curled into a smile against Matthew’s forehead as heat raced down his spine, those small sounds of pleasure from beneath him making his heart speed up in pace.
“How do you feel?” Arthur murmured as he shifted them both, urging Matthew to sit up higher with his upper back against the pillows. Matthew pushed himself up, opening his eyes and biting his lower lip in an endearing way (he knew Arthur would like that expression, Alfred did it all the time) and suppressed a groan as Arthur resumed treading his fingers over Matthew’s chest. “Matthew?”
“Bon,” Matthew whimpered, and then he immediately opened his eyes and went rigid. French. That was French. He was forbidden from speaking French around Arthur, regardless of how French Matthew’s citizens remained; he’d been beaten for it before.
But Arthur just sniggered and pressed another kiss to Matthew’s face, trailing his lithe hands down Matthew’s abdomen, twirling his fingertips in the blonde hair that trailed down his stomach, bringing their hips together and mumbling
“French is acceptable in bed.” Matthew relaxed a bit, still afraid of the implications of his words, when Arthur’s hands were suddenly between his legs and they were touching him again, his length brought up against Arthur’s, pressed between them with all sorts of lovely friction and warmth and Arthur slid his hands up and down between them. Matthew couldn’t stop himself from bucking his hips up, his back arching from the bed, all his weight held between his calves and his shoulders as Arthur slid one hand underneath his back, the other firmly holding their cocks together and pumping and rocking them against the sheets.
Matthew turned his head with a low groan, half-staring into the dim fireplace as Arthur kissed his neck and touched every part of him. The younger was unsure of what to do with his hands, so he just held onto the bed but then Arthur pulled Matthew’s hands onto his back and pressed against him again and the next thing Matthew knew, he was pawing at Arthur’s back like it was his last lifeline.
All of the tension flowed out of the colony and his hips swayed and his feet curled into Arthur’s. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, perhaps penetration of some kind but this was good too, just the feel of Arthur’s hands holding the most intimate pieces of him together. Arthur seemed to be solely focusing on touch and Matthew didn’t care, even when Arthur’s hand slid down his back to his butt, cupping it and kneading it while trailing his stupidly talented fingers up and down his member.
“I—ahh—“ Matthew mumbled between breaths. Arthur mouthed at Matthew’s neck, rocking his hips forward. “Arthur, nnghhh ne vous arrêtez pas.” Arthur chuckled again at the sound of the French tumbling from Matthew’s mouth unexpectedly sultry and heated. Matthew laid his head back farther so Arthur could keep doing whatever he was doing to Matthew’s throat, because between his neck and his waist and his cock and all the touching, he wasn’t sure if he would last because it was completely different when someone else was focusing on touching him.
“A-are you gonna—in me or—“ Matthew panted as Arthur’s fingers came dangerously close to his opening but Arthur murmured “No, I just want to focus on touching you completely.”
Matthew turned to face Arthur, opening his eyes once more, and Arthur stared back. Matthew’s cheeks were flushed to a pleasant red-pink hue, his lips swollen and wet with saliva, his hair in his big, huge bright violet eyes that seemed more alive than he’d ever seen them. Matthew’s arms were still over Arthur’s shoulders and Matthew just smiled as he leaned up and kissed Arthur again, pressing up harder, urging Arthur to continue.
Arthur started pumping them both again, his ministrations continuing at a faster pace but still together and the pulse of Arthur’s body entered Matthew’s as it clicked at just how close together they were, skin and vein to skin and vein. Arthur leaned down and hovered beside Matthew’s ear, murmuring and kissing his tender skin.
“I want to make you feel good,” he said. “I want to make you want me even more. I want to bring us even closer together. I want to feel every part of you.” Matthew’s breathing trembled as the words roiled around in his lust-ridden brain as all his nerve endings seem to light up at once and he knew he was nearly done, but he couldn’t stop the sudden inflation of his chest.
Arthur moved from his ear back to his throat, on the other side this time, thrusting his hips in time with his hand and licking at the crook of his neck before gently biting down, causing Matthew to gasp out in pleasure and surprise.
“You’re so precious,” Arthur mumbled. “You’re so precious and your empire will be the only one to covet you.” The corner of Matthew’s lips twitched up as he was flooded with warmth he never said anything like this to Alfred oh God please don’t ever let him stop Je veux que vous—
Arthur sat up a bit and he felt the tremors in Matthew’s body, the tension swelling up, Matthew’s face screwed up in pleasure and then—this moan that seemed to penetrate the walls in a way Arthur had never truly heard. He slid his free hand from Matthew’s back where he’d been tracing the boy’s spine and instead used that hand to pull Matthew’s arm down from his shoulder and covered it with his own hand bringing them to completion, and as Matthew’s hand was slicked with the oil and fluids from Arthur’s hands his body writhed and he cried out and Arthur pressed his forehead against the younger’s as Matthew’s entire body convulsed and he climaxed with a very dazed-sounding mon Dieu.
The sight of the post-coital colony relaxed into the bed was enough to bring Arthur to completion as well, and he breathed a deep sigh as he pressed his head against Matthew’s neck, suddenly aware of how sweaty his forehead and shoulders were.
They lay for a moment in a heap of sweat, Matthew laying with his head turned to the side, hair plastered to his face, panting as if he’d just run as fast as he could. His hands were resting on his chest, not even caring about the remnants of their activities splattered all over his abdomen. Arthur opened his eyes, riding out his high, watching Matthew through lidded eyes as he breathed slower and slower, his legs twitching every so often, his white skin slowly fading to red and purple around his collarbone and neck.
Arthur pushed himself up, reaching over and tracing his finger through the remnants, causing Matthew to give a breathy giggle as his over sensitized skin was touched until Arthur’s finger was covered in cum and he prodded Matthew’s lips.
“Try it,” Arthur murmured and Matthew did, sucking it as unintentionally sensually as he could, finally opening his eyes and making a face as he realized what he did.
“Wha—“ he mumbled but Arthur just slicked the colony’s hair back from his face and kissed his forehead.
“How was it?” he asked. Matthew blanched for a moment, then just smiled up at him—a relaxed, happy smile, one Arthur was sure he hadn’t seen in a very long time—and touched Arthur’s face.
“Merveilleux,” Matthew answered. “I never thought—I never thought you’d a-actually want to do this with—with me,” he continued. He was feeling so soft and light and whereas before he felt exposed now he just felt open and how could he have ever doubted Arthur’s feelings before?
Arthur sat up, reaching over to the basin on the bedside table and pulling a cloth out of it. He leaned over Matthew and used the cloth to wipe him up, semi-lukewarm water pulling Matthew somewhat out of his daze.
“I want to do it again,” Matthew muttered. “I want—I want you inside me, I want—“
“Hush,” Arthur ordered. “You’re still in the afterglow, you couldn’t possibly take more tonight.” Arthur then wiped Matthew’s face with the rag, wiping away the sweat and Matthew, now mostly clean, seemed to curl up into the bed. Arthur slid from the bed to place the basin on the floor, and then he climbed back in and watched as Matthew lay on his side, completely fatigued not only from the day’s work but from the night’s love and he seemed to glow more than Arthur had ever seen him.
Arthur bustled about the room, closing the curtains and locking the door, as Matthew drifted off from afterglow to restful sleep. The boy was still completely nude but he didn’t seem to care, and when Arthur returned to the bed, he was lying very still, breathing deeply.
“Matthew? Are you awake?” Arthur asked as he slid into bed beside him, but Matthew barely stirred, only flicking his eyes open momentarily before drifting off again. As Matthew drifted, is thoughts tumbled between how good it felt to be intimate, and how it would feel to be even more intimate—his thoughts were rolling and he felt strangely dirty and yet very clean all at once.
I wonder if Alfred has ever felt so good, Matthew wondered as his thoughts dissipated. Arthur leaned over and placed a comforting hand on his bare shoulder, ghosting over the lovemarks he left behind. Alfred will be jealous when he realizes…
Maybe now, he’d be the favorite. Maybe now, Arthur would trust him fully. Maybe—
Arthur pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.
“I always whisper good night to you, even when you’re not here,” he whispered as Matthew fell into the last depths of sleep. “Good night, Matthew, my dear.” Arthur’s voice faded and his heart settled in his chest. Arthur rustled and moved in closer to Matthew, eyes settled on his neutral face and golden hair. Matthew heard one more thing before losing consciousness:
“Good night, Alfred, my love.”