Matthew is Mine
Chapter 13
(Many years in the past, when the boys were in their teens—)
Long fingers firm around the metal doorknob, Matthew stepped into Alfred's room, twisting the handle shut and, staring at the other boy, he stuck his tongue out in disgust, finger pointing toward his throat in pretense of throwing up.
“Bleugh!”
He exclaimed, eyes rolling behind his spectacles as he let go of the door.
Alfred smirked.
“They at it again?”
he asked, looking up from whatever book he was reading, and Matthew nodded.
“On the goddamn dining room table.”
“Ewww...”
“And I was like right there.”
“Gross.”
“Papa was all, oh put on the waiter outfit...”
“Ahh! Shut up!” Alfred cried out, laughing in disgust as he cupped his hands over his ears.
“Yeah, why should I have to suffer alone,”
Matthew replied, plopping down on Alfred's bed. He reached for his brother's wrists, forcibly trying to pry his hands away from his ears as he teased,
“Ehhh, don't talk about the waiter outfit in front of Alfred,”
and then, imitating a lower voice,
“that's Matthew, you moron.”
“What's the waiter outfit,”
Alfred laughed as he wrestled Matthew off,
“No, wait, I don't wanna know.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Sick.”
“I was gonna go get something from the kitchen, too, but I just totally lost my appetite.”
“I thought they were fighting, anyway,”
Alfred said, rearranging himself on the bed and neatly smoothing out the edges of his book,
“Wasn't England calling France an incompetent...something or other...”
“A sod,” Matthew replied as he took his place next to Alfred, “a daft sod.”
“A sodding wanker.”
“You're a sodding wanker.”
“Francis, you sodding wanker...!”
Alfred laughed, imitating Arthur's voice as he rolled onto his back,
“It's your fault the boys have no sense of discipline...!”
Matthew smirked, soft hair swaying as he climbed atop his brother's slender form.
“It's your boy who has no sense of discipline...!”
he laughed, deliberately imitating Francis' accent,
“That Alfred...he's a piece of work!”
Alfred rolled his eyes sarcastically, and, now badly imitating Arthur's English accent, he replied,
“My boy Alfred is awesome.”
Matthew stared down for a few seconds before bursting into laughter,
“He would so never say that.”
“He's wicked,” Alfred laughed, “he's just brilliant and ace.”
“He's a dumbass is what he is.”
“You're a dumbass.”
At this, Matthew laughed, white teeth flashing as he grinned, and, hair sweeping awkwardly in his wake, Alfred reached up to kiss him then.
“Those boys have no discipline...!”
he whispered softly, lips moving wet against Matthew's mouth.
Matthew kissed back, long fingers delicate, tentative as they brushed against Alfred's stomach, unintentionally, innocent, sharp intake of breath as they swept unawares past the hard insistence at his trousers—
“S—sorry...!”
he sputtered, withdrawing his hand all at once.
Beneath him, Alfred gazed up with childlike curiosity, eyes blinking innocent behind transparent lenses of glass.
“I didn't mind,”
he said softly, and the two gazed at each other in silence for a long time.
“It...” he started again, and Matthew's blue eyes scanned slowly across his face, “it's just a little—sensitive—”
Very gently, he took Matthew's hand, and both of them turned slowly to gaze as he brought it to his trousers again, carefully pressing over the surface.
Matthew flushed, averting his gaze as he bit down on his lower lip, but he didn't let go.
“Is...” he asked softly, with gentle curiosity, “Is that nice...?”
Exhaling in response, Alfred nodded, yellow hair scattering on the mattress below.
“It's nice, yeah.”
He grinned then, but without any sarcasm or mockery.
“Matthew, you're so gentle,”
he murmured with quiet wonderment.
Matthew's glasses had slipped a little, and he reached in a manner of habit to push them back up the bridge of his nose.
“Well, I don't wanna—”
he said, stopping himself partway.
Alfred gazed up in silence.
“You don't wanna hurt me?”
Matthew smiled, laughing a little. His hair bounced as he nodded.
“It doesn't hurt. It feels nice.”
Alfred laughed, too, a tender laugh, gentle and honest, and, voice childlike, he asked,
“do you want me to do it to you?”
Grinning, eyes tightly closed, Matthew shook his head, no.
Alfred smiled, propping himself up by the elbows as he inspected the other boy's face.
“You're too shy.”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
“Okay, then.”
To be continued...