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blood_wingedTitle: Of Maple Beer and Morning Afters
Genre: Romance
Pairing(s): PrussiaxCanada
Rating: R
Warnings: PWP, drunk!Canada, sex, language
Summary: Matthew gets more than he bargains for when Gilbert pays a surprise visit. Gilbert gets more than he bargains for when he decides that it'd be a good idea to help a rather inebriated Matthew to bed.
The last thing that Matthew expected when he opened the door was to find a grinning Prussian stood on his doorstep. The Canadian glanced around, checking behind Gilbert, before he cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly.
“Eh... Hello, Gilbert,” he said nervously. Something about the expression on the other man’s face made him anxious. “I-if you’re looking for Alfred, he’s not here...”
“I’m not looking for Alfred,” Gilbert said brusquely, brushing past Matthew and leaving the confused blond stood at the door. For a long moment, Matthew stared after him, watching him poke his head curiously into each room, then he uttered a quiet ‘eh...’ and trailed after him, fidgeting with the cuff of his oversized red jumper. Gilbert eventually found the kitchen and walked in, making a beeline for the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. Nudging the door closed, he finally turned his attention to Matthew, who was looking bewildered and more than a little worried.
“You’re wondering what I’m doing here.” Gilbert unscrewed the cap from the bottle and took a sip. “Well, West told me to get out of his sight, and I figured, who could benefit the most from my awesomeness? Then I thought of you.”
“Me..?” Matthew chafed his hands up his arms. “Are you sure..?” Surely the man had made some kind of mistake. People never came looking for Matthew, and in fact he was lucky if they noticed him at all. Gilbert was in front of him suddenly and he flinched, backed up against the wall, eyes flicking warily to the hand beside his head.
“You are Matthew Williams, aren’t you?” he asked, and Matthew’s violet eyes widened a fraction. He nodded, and Gilbert smirked, then drew away and sipped the water again. “I thought so.” The Prussian left the room, and Matthew followed, feeling like a stranger in his own house as he shadowed the older nation to the main room where an open wood fire was crackling merrily in the grate. Matthew loved the smell of a wood fire for reasons that he couldn’t explain, and it would seem that Gilbert approved as he approached the fireplace and crouched in front of it.
Matthew was confused, understandably, and it took some time before he finally had the nerve to approach and clear his throat softly to attract Gilbert’s attention.
“So, eh...” he began, trailing off as the other man looked up at him, then back at the fire. The Canadian sighed, and sat down, watching Gilbert until the man saw fit to acknowledge his presence. The dark-eyed blond sat back on the carpet, placing the bottle of water to one side, and he fixed Matthew with a look that was almost curious.
“You know, Matt- I can call you Matt, right? Of course I can. I never understood how people mistake you for that idiot brother of yours.”
“Alfred isn’t an idiot...” Matthew protested, somewhat weakly, before the rest of what Gilbert had said sunk in and he started almost comically. “Really? You... you don’t think I look like him?”
“Well, no,” the Prussian replied, moving over to Matthew, who pressed himself against the back of his chair as the other man knelt between his knees, his hands placed either side of the younger nation as he scrutinised him closely. “Your eyes are violet, his are blue... and your hair is different.” Gilbert twirled one finger through the stray curl of hair on Matthew’s head. “Alfred doesn’t have one of these. You see?”
“Mm...”
“And you always have that bear with you,” Gilbert went on, oblivious to Matthew’s rapidly fraying nerves. “Where is that thing, by the way?”
“He’s sleeping...” Matthew mumbled, trying very hard to disappear through the back of the chair. Prussia was a little bit scary. Not as scary as Ivan, who had always terrified Matthew, but there was a certain something about Gilbert that made the Canadian very unsure, and not being able to put a finger on exactly what that was only made it worse. “Um... W-would you mind..?” He pressed one fingertip to Gilbert’s chest and pushed him gently back, surprised at how easily the Prussian gave in to the demand but not expecting the faintly hurt look on the man’s face as he settled back on his heels. Matthew frowned, forcing himself to relax. It was only Gilbert... he wasn’t going to do anything.
“Are... are you alright?”
Gilbert sighed dramatically, and pushed one hand through his platinum blond hair. “I’m fine, Matt,” he said, finishing off the water and placing the empty bottle carefully beside the couch. “You’d rather I left.”
“No!” The word escaped before he could stop it, or even reason why he had said it, but Gilbert’s expression brightened a fraction. “That is... it was just a surprise to see you. I don’t... get many visitors these days, except for Alfred and Arthur, sometimes...” Though even they would often forget about him. He lowered his eyes and returned to fiddling with the cuff of his jumper, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Gilbert get up. Apparently unaware that the Canadian was watching him, he made his way around the room, examining the small trinkets and photographs that Matthew had over the fireplace and on top of cabinets and bookcases. He paused in front of the drinks cabinet, and opened it, and Matthew saw his eyebrows rise.
“I didn’t have you pegged as a drinker, Matt,” he said, lifting out one of the half empty bottles and reading the label. Matthew stood and walked over to him, pointedly removing the bottle from his hand and placing it back into the cabinet, shutting it.
“I’m not,” he replied. “I keep those for guests. Alfred and Arthur, mostly... Especially Arthur.”
“Cuba told me once that you have quite a nice home brew,” Gilbert said idly.
“Mm... Maple beer. I perfected the recipe recently.”
“Could I try some?”
0-0-0-0-0
“Don’t touch anything,” Matthew warned as they walked down the creaking wooden stairs into the cellar. He heard the Prussian let out a low whistle as he saw the rows of large barrels, and felt an odd surge of pride that someone other than Cuba (with whom his relationship was often strained by Alfred’s occasional idiocy) was interested in his hobbies. He was more than happy to grab a couple of glasses and pour a sample of the beer into each, sipping happily at his own while he watched Gilbert sniff at the beverage, before he tipped the glass back and paused, before swallowing. Matthew knew that Germany was well known for its beer, and that Gilbert would be used to the best, and he was surprised when he found himself nervous about what the older man would think. There was a long pause, in which Gilbert silently gazed into the bottom of the glass, then he nodded.
“Not bad, Matt. Not German, but not bad.” He held out his glass and Matthew took it, filling it to the top before he handed it back with a smile. At a gesture from Gilbert he did the same with his own, and joined the man as he sat down in front of one of the barrels. The Prussian leaned his head back against the wood and swallowed a mouthful of beer, with Matthew following suit after a moment.
Three hours later, and they hadn’t moved except to refill their glasses, and Matthew had slid down considerably from his initial sitting position to being almost comically sprawled over the stone floor.
“An’... an’ it’s not like I hate Alfred,” Matthew was saying, while Gilbert watched him and occasionally nodded to spur on what had now become a one and a half hour rant (or rather, inane ramble) about the Canadian’s brother. “’Cause I don’t, it’s just... he’s such a God-damn tool, eh? An’... you know what else? You know what else, Gil-” He broke off and struggled to sit up, grabbing onto Gilbert’s knee for support. “Gilbert, you know what else? I’m not, and I’m sick of being mistaken for him... and... and of people not noticing that we’re not the same... ‘cause... ‘cause it’s like you said, eh? We don’t look alike. So... so why do people always think I’m him? Even my friends do it!”
Gilbert had been impressed at how well the Canadian could hold his alcohol, but it seemed that the last glassful had been the one that had finally tipped him over the edge. The Prussian was feeling a little ‘fuzzy’ himself, drunk enough to be amused by his companion’s attempts at coherence and his failures to sit up straight.
“I really don’t know, Mattie,” Gilbert said, downing what remained of his glass and grabbing Matthew’s arm to help him into a sitting position. The younger nation was far thinner under that oversized jumper than he had expected. “Maybe you need to be more awesome, like me.”
“Maybe...” Matthew finished off his drink, having seemed to have made it a personal mission to keep up with Gilbert glass for glass, and then wobbled to his feet. Standing, Gilbert put his arm around his unsteady drinking buddy and wasn’t in the least bit surprised when Matthew was quite happy to use him as a crutch. Rather than pouring out another drink, Gilbert muttered something about helping Matthew to bed, which set the Canadian off into a fit of giggles that continued as he was helped up the stairs, and then up another flight to the second floor. Luckily for Gilbert, the bedroom door was open so he didn’t have to ask the inebriated man hanging off his arm where to take him.
“Are you not going to join me?” the blond asked as he was sat down, stubbornly refusing to let go of Gilbert’s shirt sleeve. The Prussian stared at him for a moment, and Matthew took advantage of the hesitation, tugging hard and sending Gilbert crashing down into a very sudden, very deep kiss that made up for an obvious lack of expertise by being very enthusiastic. Gilbert wasn’t about to argue, and even if he had a mind to, the thought would have been pushed right out of his head by the very provocative rolling of Matthew’s hips up against his own. He grunted under his breath, and looked up to find that Matthew was smirking, but it was a very different kind of smirk to the ones that Gilbert had sometimes seen on Alfred’s face.
“Well...” Gilbert said, following the younger man as he scooted back across the bed. “I didn’t expect a few pints to loosen you up quite this much, Mattie-boy.” He moved to pull that ridiculously large jumper over Matthew’s head, and the Canadian allowed it, revealing a rather waifish frame underneath. Gilbert looked him up and down, but the repeated hesitations were costing him dearly, and Matthew pushed him back against the headboard, sitting over his lap and kissing him again, a little more finesse in the movement of his lips and tongue this time that would suggest he wasn’t quite as inexperienced as Gilbert had first thought. He drew back, and Gilbert took a long look at the flushed, eager face in front of him, then cursed under his breath before flipping the younger nation on his back and kissing his neck. He cupped one hand over the front of Matthew’s trousers and the Canadian moaned loudly, bucking against the contact and grasping at the fabric of his shirt.
It was hurried, the urgent shedding of clothes that only happens between passionate lovers or two intoxicated strangers, but Gilbert couldn’t help taking a moment to admire Matthew’s slender frame. He really was nothing like Alfred. Matthew trailed his fingers over the scars marking Gilbert’s chest and shoulders, faint curiosity spiking through the haze of alcohol-induced lust in his mind. Distracted quite nicely by the Prussian’s lips on his neck, Matthew gasped and wrapped his arms around Gilbert, groaning shakily into his ear and jerking as the older man marked the pale skin of his throat with a dark bruise.
The Canadian whimpered softly, burying his face in Gilbert's shoulder, drawing his nails slowly across the older man’s back. Their lips met again and it was growing more and more difficult for Gilbert to take his time with the slender young nation restlessly squirming beneath him.
“Why do I feel like you planned this?” he said, biting the smaller blond’s collarbone and chuckling as Matthew bucked and choked out a gasp, feeling fingers push into his hair and grip tightly.
“Why would I plan this?” Matthew asked him, his eyes shut as he fought to concentrate through the prickling heat spreading over his flushed skin. “This is your fault.”
Gilbert snorted, lowering his head to capture one taut nipple between his teeth, giving a sharp tug that drew a low groan from Matthew’s throat. “My fault? How is this my fault?” he asked, his dark eyes flicking upwards. Matthew’s cheeks were so darkly flushed that Gilbert was surprised that he had enough blood spare to support the very obvious erection that was poking into the Prussian’s stomach.
“You’re just too awesome, eh?” the Canadian murmured, and Gilbert smirked.
“Damn right,” he replied, before sitting up and casting his eyes about the room. “You got any lube knocking about, Mattie?”
“Nn? Oh...” One hand reached out and clumsily batted at the top drawer of the bedside cabinet, and Gilbert opened it, his fingers closing around a small tube. He didn’t waste any time when he drew back, using what was left in the tube to slick himself up, before he pushed one finger inside the Canadian’s body. Matthew squeaked, then gasped, tensing up and grasping Gilbert’s shoulders. The Prussian looked at him, finding the younger man’s face set in an expression of near-painful euphoria, his teeth denting deeply into his lower lip. The smaller blond shuddered, restlessly pressing his fingertips into the other man’s soft skin.
“Mmph... I-I haven’t...” The alcohol burning through his veins didn’t allow any embarrassment. Gilbert blinked in mild surprise.
“You and Francis never...?” he trailed off. Matthew let out a short, barking laugh and tipped his head back.
“No... Half the world’s been in his pants, he could have all kinds of diseases, eh?”
Perhaps it was the tone of Matthew’s voice or that Gilbert would have never expected such a scathing remark from the shy Canadian but he found himself laughing, and Matthew smirked, drawing the older nation into a messy, open-mouthed kiss before he moved to whisper hotly beside the man’s ear.
“Fuck me.”
“You’re the boss...” Gilbert purred, pressing a second finger in beside the first and watching the expression on Matthew’s face move from discomfort to sudden shock as a spot inside him was discovered and pushed against. He cried out, his head tossing against the pillows as his hips surged upwards, his breath coming hard and fast as he rocked down against Gilbert’s fingers. Slowly, a third was pushed in, and Matthew’s lips set in a thin line, a quiet gasp leaving him as he was kissed deeply, his slim frame quivering under the Prussian’s strangely gentle ministrations.
When he was deemed more than ready Gilbert pushed Matthew’s knees up to his shoulders, and locked their gazes together as he entered the Canadian in a single smooth stroke. Matthew paled, his body stiffening, his eyes shut tight and damp lashes spread over his cheeks. Giving him barely a moment to adjust, the older man drew back and then pushed forwards, filling him to the brink and drawing a broken moan from the small blond’s lips. The choice to ask him to stop had always been there, and Matthew wasn’t taking it, his shifting somewhat erratic until he found just the right spot to set his heels against Gilbert’s lower back, one hand twisted in the pillow beside his head.
Matthew held tightly to the older nation as he was pushed higher, moaning loudly in contrast to Gilbert’s quiet grunts at each firm thrust. He wrapped his legs tightly around the Prussian’s hips and shuddered, feeling an insistent, tingling warmth washing through him before his world tipped sideways and the full force of his climax hit him. He buried his face in Gilbert’s shoulder and cried out, Gilbert only needing a few more sharp thrusts into the tight heat of the body beneath him before he hit his own peak. The Canadian whimpered softly, falling limp underneath the dark-eyed Prussian as his body trembled. He winced as Gilbert moved away and dropped onto his back beside him, panting softly and pushing one hand through his platinum blond hair.
It didn’t surprise him when he looked over at Matthew a few minutes later to find that the smaller nation was fast asleep, and he got up, locating the nearest shower and spending some time in it before he returned to the bedroom. Gilbert wasn’t much of an ‘after sex cuddling’ type of person, but he was too body-weary and still rather too drunk to care as he fell into bed beside the Canadian, who instantly moved towards his warmth and curled up beside him.
0-0-0-0-0
Matthew woke up sore the next morning. Fitfully sore. He stirred and groaned under his breath. His head and his arse hurt and he wasn’t sure which was worse, though attempting to move quickly confirmed that in fact his head was in far worse shape.
“Ah, you’re awake.” His head jerked ‘round (bad idea), leaving him nauseous as he focused on Gilbert, who, he quickly realised, wasn’t wearing anything. If possible, his head hurt more as the memories of the previous night began to trickle back, and he groaned, gingerly sitting up and rubbing one hand across his face.
“Looks that way, eh...” Matthew mumbled.
“Do you remember last night?” Gilbert asked him, watching him as he tried apply some order to his messy hair and failed. The Canadian cast him a somewhat wary look, and nodded slowly.
“Yes...”
“Did you enjoy it?” That really was the main issue here. Matthew frowned, then hissed softly. Frowning hurt. He shut his eyes and cast his mind back, feeling Gilbert’s eyes on him, his gaze steady and intent as he waited for the answer. After several long moments, Matthew was forced to concede that he really couldn’t remember enough to say for sure.
“I... I don’t know, eh...” he said uneasily.
“Want to try it again, just to make sure?”
Gilbert was grinning, and Matthew found that he couldn’t help but smile back. The Prussian definitely had a certain something that piqued the smaller blond’s interest, and he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to him (or was that the hangover talking).
“My head’s sore...” Matthew protested, only to have his eyes flutter closed as Gilbert reached up and trailed one fingertip lightly down his jaw.
“Sex is great for headaches.” Gilbert pointed out. Matthew had to laugh.
“You know something, Gilbert?” he said, shifting closer to the Prussian and running a fingertip over one of the scars on his chest.
“Mm?”
“You’re awesome.”
The dark-eyed man chuckled, and pulled Matthew closer, kissing him and deciding that while Matthew was by no means a fantastic kisser, he was a good kisser, and that would do for now.
Genre: Romance
Pairing(s): PrussiaxCanada
Rating: R
Warnings: PWP, drunk!Canada, sex, language
Summary: Matthew gets more than he bargains for when Gilbert pays a surprise visit. Gilbert gets more than he bargains for when he decides that it'd be a good idea to help a rather inebriated Matthew to bed.
****
The last thing that Matthew expected when he opened the door was to find a grinning Prussian stood on his doorstep. The Canadian glanced around, checking behind Gilbert, before he cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly.
“Eh... Hello, Gilbert,” he said nervously. Something about the expression on the other man’s face made him anxious. “I-if you’re looking for Alfred, he’s not here...”
“I’m not looking for Alfred,” Gilbert said brusquely, brushing past Matthew and leaving the confused blond stood at the door. For a long moment, Matthew stared after him, watching him poke his head curiously into each room, then he uttered a quiet ‘eh...’ and trailed after him, fidgeting with the cuff of his oversized red jumper. Gilbert eventually found the kitchen and walked in, making a beeline for the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. Nudging the door closed, he finally turned his attention to Matthew, who was looking bewildered and more than a little worried.
“You’re wondering what I’m doing here.” Gilbert unscrewed the cap from the bottle and took a sip. “Well, West told me to get out of his sight, and I figured, who could benefit the most from my awesomeness? Then I thought of you.”
“Me..?” Matthew chafed his hands up his arms. “Are you sure..?” Surely the man had made some kind of mistake. People never came looking for Matthew, and in fact he was lucky if they noticed him at all. Gilbert was in front of him suddenly and he flinched, backed up against the wall, eyes flicking warily to the hand beside his head.
“You are Matthew Williams, aren’t you?” he asked, and Matthew’s violet eyes widened a fraction. He nodded, and Gilbert smirked, then drew away and sipped the water again. “I thought so.” The Prussian left the room, and Matthew followed, feeling like a stranger in his own house as he shadowed the older nation to the main room where an open wood fire was crackling merrily in the grate. Matthew loved the smell of a wood fire for reasons that he couldn’t explain, and it would seem that Gilbert approved as he approached the fireplace and crouched in front of it.
Matthew was confused, understandably, and it took some time before he finally had the nerve to approach and clear his throat softly to attract Gilbert’s attention.
“So, eh...” he began, trailing off as the other man looked up at him, then back at the fire. The Canadian sighed, and sat down, watching Gilbert until the man saw fit to acknowledge his presence. The dark-eyed blond sat back on the carpet, placing the bottle of water to one side, and he fixed Matthew with a look that was almost curious.
“You know, Matt- I can call you Matt, right? Of course I can. I never understood how people mistake you for that idiot brother of yours.”
“Alfred isn’t an idiot...” Matthew protested, somewhat weakly, before the rest of what Gilbert had said sunk in and he started almost comically. “Really? You... you don’t think I look like him?”
“Well, no,” the Prussian replied, moving over to Matthew, who pressed himself against the back of his chair as the other man knelt between his knees, his hands placed either side of the younger nation as he scrutinised him closely. “Your eyes are violet, his are blue... and your hair is different.” Gilbert twirled one finger through the stray curl of hair on Matthew’s head. “Alfred doesn’t have one of these. You see?”
“Mm...”
“And you always have that bear with you,” Gilbert went on, oblivious to Matthew’s rapidly fraying nerves. “Where is that thing, by the way?”
“He’s sleeping...” Matthew mumbled, trying very hard to disappear through the back of the chair. Prussia was a little bit scary. Not as scary as Ivan, who had always terrified Matthew, but there was a certain something about Gilbert that made the Canadian very unsure, and not being able to put a finger on exactly what that was only made it worse. “Um... W-would you mind..?” He pressed one fingertip to Gilbert’s chest and pushed him gently back, surprised at how easily the Prussian gave in to the demand but not expecting the faintly hurt look on the man’s face as he settled back on his heels. Matthew frowned, forcing himself to relax. It was only Gilbert... he wasn’t going to do anything.
“Are... are you alright?”
Gilbert sighed dramatically, and pushed one hand through his platinum blond hair. “I’m fine, Matt,” he said, finishing off the water and placing the empty bottle carefully beside the couch. “You’d rather I left.”
“No!” The word escaped before he could stop it, or even reason why he had said it, but Gilbert’s expression brightened a fraction. “That is... it was just a surprise to see you. I don’t... get many visitors these days, except for Alfred and Arthur, sometimes...” Though even they would often forget about him. He lowered his eyes and returned to fiddling with the cuff of his jumper, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Gilbert get up. Apparently unaware that the Canadian was watching him, he made his way around the room, examining the small trinkets and photographs that Matthew had over the fireplace and on top of cabinets and bookcases. He paused in front of the drinks cabinet, and opened it, and Matthew saw his eyebrows rise.
“I didn’t have you pegged as a drinker, Matt,” he said, lifting out one of the half empty bottles and reading the label. Matthew stood and walked over to him, pointedly removing the bottle from his hand and placing it back into the cabinet, shutting it.
“I’m not,” he replied. “I keep those for guests. Alfred and Arthur, mostly... Especially Arthur.”
“Cuba told me once that you have quite a nice home brew,” Gilbert said idly.
“Mm... Maple beer. I perfected the recipe recently.”
“Could I try some?”
0-0-0-0-0
“Don’t touch anything,” Matthew warned as they walked down the creaking wooden stairs into the cellar. He heard the Prussian let out a low whistle as he saw the rows of large barrels, and felt an odd surge of pride that someone other than Cuba (with whom his relationship was often strained by Alfred’s occasional idiocy) was interested in his hobbies. He was more than happy to grab a couple of glasses and pour a sample of the beer into each, sipping happily at his own while he watched Gilbert sniff at the beverage, before he tipped the glass back and paused, before swallowing. Matthew knew that Germany was well known for its beer, and that Gilbert would be used to the best, and he was surprised when he found himself nervous about what the older man would think. There was a long pause, in which Gilbert silently gazed into the bottom of the glass, then he nodded.
“Not bad, Matt. Not German, but not bad.” He held out his glass and Matthew took it, filling it to the top before he handed it back with a smile. At a gesture from Gilbert he did the same with his own, and joined the man as he sat down in front of one of the barrels. The Prussian leaned his head back against the wood and swallowed a mouthful of beer, with Matthew following suit after a moment.
Three hours later, and they hadn’t moved except to refill their glasses, and Matthew had slid down considerably from his initial sitting position to being almost comically sprawled over the stone floor.
“An’... an’ it’s not like I hate Alfred,” Matthew was saying, while Gilbert watched him and occasionally nodded to spur on what had now become a one and a half hour rant (or rather, inane ramble) about the Canadian’s brother. “’Cause I don’t, it’s just... he’s such a God-damn tool, eh? An’... you know what else? You know what else, Gil-” He broke off and struggled to sit up, grabbing onto Gilbert’s knee for support. “Gilbert, you know what else? I’m not, and I’m sick of being mistaken for him... and... and of people not noticing that we’re not the same... ‘cause... ‘cause it’s like you said, eh? We don’t look alike. So... so why do people always think I’m him? Even my friends do it!”
Gilbert had been impressed at how well the Canadian could hold his alcohol, but it seemed that the last glassful had been the one that had finally tipped him over the edge. The Prussian was feeling a little ‘fuzzy’ himself, drunk enough to be amused by his companion’s attempts at coherence and his failures to sit up straight.
“I really don’t know, Mattie,” Gilbert said, downing what remained of his glass and grabbing Matthew’s arm to help him into a sitting position. The younger nation was far thinner under that oversized jumper than he had expected. “Maybe you need to be more awesome, like me.”
“Maybe...” Matthew finished off his drink, having seemed to have made it a personal mission to keep up with Gilbert glass for glass, and then wobbled to his feet. Standing, Gilbert put his arm around his unsteady drinking buddy and wasn’t in the least bit surprised when Matthew was quite happy to use him as a crutch. Rather than pouring out another drink, Gilbert muttered something about helping Matthew to bed, which set the Canadian off into a fit of giggles that continued as he was helped up the stairs, and then up another flight to the second floor. Luckily for Gilbert, the bedroom door was open so he didn’t have to ask the inebriated man hanging off his arm where to take him.
“Are you not going to join me?” the blond asked as he was sat down, stubbornly refusing to let go of Gilbert’s shirt sleeve. The Prussian stared at him for a moment, and Matthew took advantage of the hesitation, tugging hard and sending Gilbert crashing down into a very sudden, very deep kiss that made up for an obvious lack of expertise by being very enthusiastic. Gilbert wasn’t about to argue, and even if he had a mind to, the thought would have been pushed right out of his head by the very provocative rolling of Matthew’s hips up against his own. He grunted under his breath, and looked up to find that Matthew was smirking, but it was a very different kind of smirk to the ones that Gilbert had sometimes seen on Alfred’s face.
“Well...” Gilbert said, following the younger man as he scooted back across the bed. “I didn’t expect a few pints to loosen you up quite this much, Mattie-boy.” He moved to pull that ridiculously large jumper over Matthew’s head, and the Canadian allowed it, revealing a rather waifish frame underneath. Gilbert looked him up and down, but the repeated hesitations were costing him dearly, and Matthew pushed him back against the headboard, sitting over his lap and kissing him again, a little more finesse in the movement of his lips and tongue this time that would suggest he wasn’t quite as inexperienced as Gilbert had first thought. He drew back, and Gilbert took a long look at the flushed, eager face in front of him, then cursed under his breath before flipping the younger nation on his back and kissing his neck. He cupped one hand over the front of Matthew’s trousers and the Canadian moaned loudly, bucking against the contact and grasping at the fabric of his shirt.
It was hurried, the urgent shedding of clothes that only happens between passionate lovers or two intoxicated strangers, but Gilbert couldn’t help taking a moment to admire Matthew’s slender frame. He really was nothing like Alfred. Matthew trailed his fingers over the scars marking Gilbert’s chest and shoulders, faint curiosity spiking through the haze of alcohol-induced lust in his mind. Distracted quite nicely by the Prussian’s lips on his neck, Matthew gasped and wrapped his arms around Gilbert, groaning shakily into his ear and jerking as the older man marked the pale skin of his throat with a dark bruise.
The Canadian whimpered softly, burying his face in Gilbert's shoulder, drawing his nails slowly across the older man’s back. Their lips met again and it was growing more and more difficult for Gilbert to take his time with the slender young nation restlessly squirming beneath him.
“Why do I feel like you planned this?” he said, biting the smaller blond’s collarbone and chuckling as Matthew bucked and choked out a gasp, feeling fingers push into his hair and grip tightly.
“Why would I plan this?” Matthew asked him, his eyes shut as he fought to concentrate through the prickling heat spreading over his flushed skin. “This is your fault.”
Gilbert snorted, lowering his head to capture one taut nipple between his teeth, giving a sharp tug that drew a low groan from Matthew’s throat. “My fault? How is this my fault?” he asked, his dark eyes flicking upwards. Matthew’s cheeks were so darkly flushed that Gilbert was surprised that he had enough blood spare to support the very obvious erection that was poking into the Prussian’s stomach.
“You’re just too awesome, eh?” the Canadian murmured, and Gilbert smirked.
“Damn right,” he replied, before sitting up and casting his eyes about the room. “You got any lube knocking about, Mattie?”
“Nn? Oh...” One hand reached out and clumsily batted at the top drawer of the bedside cabinet, and Gilbert opened it, his fingers closing around a small tube. He didn’t waste any time when he drew back, using what was left in the tube to slick himself up, before he pushed one finger inside the Canadian’s body. Matthew squeaked, then gasped, tensing up and grasping Gilbert’s shoulders. The Prussian looked at him, finding the younger man’s face set in an expression of near-painful euphoria, his teeth denting deeply into his lower lip. The smaller blond shuddered, restlessly pressing his fingertips into the other man’s soft skin.
“Mmph... I-I haven’t...” The alcohol burning through his veins didn’t allow any embarrassment. Gilbert blinked in mild surprise.
“You and Francis never...?” he trailed off. Matthew let out a short, barking laugh and tipped his head back.
“No... Half the world’s been in his pants, he could have all kinds of diseases, eh?”
Perhaps it was the tone of Matthew’s voice or that Gilbert would have never expected such a scathing remark from the shy Canadian but he found himself laughing, and Matthew smirked, drawing the older nation into a messy, open-mouthed kiss before he moved to whisper hotly beside the man’s ear.
“Fuck me.”
“You’re the boss...” Gilbert purred, pressing a second finger in beside the first and watching the expression on Matthew’s face move from discomfort to sudden shock as a spot inside him was discovered and pushed against. He cried out, his head tossing against the pillows as his hips surged upwards, his breath coming hard and fast as he rocked down against Gilbert’s fingers. Slowly, a third was pushed in, and Matthew’s lips set in a thin line, a quiet gasp leaving him as he was kissed deeply, his slim frame quivering under the Prussian’s strangely gentle ministrations.
When he was deemed more than ready Gilbert pushed Matthew’s knees up to his shoulders, and locked their gazes together as he entered the Canadian in a single smooth stroke. Matthew paled, his body stiffening, his eyes shut tight and damp lashes spread over his cheeks. Giving him barely a moment to adjust, the older man drew back and then pushed forwards, filling him to the brink and drawing a broken moan from the small blond’s lips. The choice to ask him to stop had always been there, and Matthew wasn’t taking it, his shifting somewhat erratic until he found just the right spot to set his heels against Gilbert’s lower back, one hand twisted in the pillow beside his head.
Matthew held tightly to the older nation as he was pushed higher, moaning loudly in contrast to Gilbert’s quiet grunts at each firm thrust. He wrapped his legs tightly around the Prussian’s hips and shuddered, feeling an insistent, tingling warmth washing through him before his world tipped sideways and the full force of his climax hit him. He buried his face in Gilbert’s shoulder and cried out, Gilbert only needing a few more sharp thrusts into the tight heat of the body beneath him before he hit his own peak. The Canadian whimpered softly, falling limp underneath the dark-eyed Prussian as his body trembled. He winced as Gilbert moved away and dropped onto his back beside him, panting softly and pushing one hand through his platinum blond hair.
It didn’t surprise him when he looked over at Matthew a few minutes later to find that the smaller nation was fast asleep, and he got up, locating the nearest shower and spending some time in it before he returned to the bedroom. Gilbert wasn’t much of an ‘after sex cuddling’ type of person, but he was too body-weary and still rather too drunk to care as he fell into bed beside the Canadian, who instantly moved towards his warmth and curled up beside him.
0-0-0-0-0
Matthew woke up sore the next morning. Fitfully sore. He stirred and groaned under his breath. His head and his arse hurt and he wasn’t sure which was worse, though attempting to move quickly confirmed that in fact his head was in far worse shape.
“Ah, you’re awake.” His head jerked ‘round (bad idea), leaving him nauseous as he focused on Gilbert, who, he quickly realised, wasn’t wearing anything. If possible, his head hurt more as the memories of the previous night began to trickle back, and he groaned, gingerly sitting up and rubbing one hand across his face.
“Looks that way, eh...” Matthew mumbled.
“Do you remember last night?” Gilbert asked him, watching him as he tried apply some order to his messy hair and failed. The Canadian cast him a somewhat wary look, and nodded slowly.
“Yes...”
“Did you enjoy it?” That really was the main issue here. Matthew frowned, then hissed softly. Frowning hurt. He shut his eyes and cast his mind back, feeling Gilbert’s eyes on him, his gaze steady and intent as he waited for the answer. After several long moments, Matthew was forced to concede that he really couldn’t remember enough to say for sure.
“I... I don’t know, eh...” he said uneasily.
“Want to try it again, just to make sure?”
Gilbert was grinning, and Matthew found that he couldn’t help but smile back. The Prussian definitely had a certain something that piqued the smaller blond’s interest, and he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to him (or was that the hangover talking).
“My head’s sore...” Matthew protested, only to have his eyes flutter closed as Gilbert reached up and trailed one fingertip lightly down his jaw.
“Sex is great for headaches.” Gilbert pointed out. Matthew had to laugh.
“You know something, Gilbert?” he said, shifting closer to the Prussian and running a fingertip over one of the scars on his chest.
“Mm?”
“You’re awesome.”
The dark-eyed man chuckled, and pulled Matthew closer, kissing him and deciding that while Matthew was by no means a fantastic kisser, he was a good kisser, and that would do for now.
