Well, well, well. Can it be? USCan? Yes, feast your eyes, readers mine.
And its not angst. XD
Warnings: AU, slash, OOCness, stupidity, language, stupidity, sexual stuff, sex stuff
Pairing: eventual Alfred/Matt, mentioned threesome
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
The textbooks lay scattered across the carpet, abandoned, and the numerous, opened soda cans, some finished while others remain half full, litter any surface not taken up by a notebook. They leave rings of condensation, some dried and others staining, and one has even toppled over, dripping remnants of orange soda onto a calculus problem that is due in approximately three hours and fifty-one minutes.
But Alfred doesn't care. The unfinished proofs don't matter. He could do those derivatives in his sleep, probably. Besides, even if he couldn't, the TA would let it slide.
Kiku is a prodigy. He's already a graduate student at the age of twenty. He's also a cool guy. He and Alfred go way back when Alfred spent a summer in Japan, interning with some anti-whaling organization. He was gung-ho in a charmingly obnoxious way and he got lost, one day, and a lone university student patiently listened to his rambling, choppy Japanese and set him straight. Alfred insisted on getting Kiku's email and ignored the other's polite dismissals until Kiku gave him his Gaia account and Alfred relented.
Matthew's homework is finished. He had a paper due in history but he finished it two days ago. He has a quiz in Economics, but he, in that quietly assured manner of his, is confident in acing it.
He's asleep, on the bottom bunk, one arm thrown over his eyes and shirt riding up his pale stomach.
Alfred, being a creeper extraordinaire, is eyeing his roommate with a downright starving look in his baby blue eyes. Matthew has a birthmark shaped like a marijuana leaf (or maple leaf, depending on who you ask and how stoned he or she is) just below his last rib. He's got a faint trail of curls leading into the waistband of his grey sleeping pants and Alfred wants to lick it because he can't focus with it glinting in the corner of his vision.
There is, maybe, six feet of space between the bunk beds and the door of the dormitory and Alfred is sprawled on the cheap carpeting, his homework surrounding him. He pushes up to his knees, eyes still focused on Matthew, and he licks his lips, once, and glances at the clock.
He doesn't like being quiet, but Matthew likes his sleep and he's fairly certain that his roommate wouldn't appreciate being woken up five hours too early because Alfred is jacking off to…
Alfred pauses, tongue slipping out, as he considered the fantasy of the night. Matthew had nice shoulder blades so maybe tonight was reverse-cowgirl night?
No no. He wanted to see Matthew's face, see those violet eyes cloud up with want and trace his open mouth with his tongue, so maybe full cowgirl? Matthew could take control, grip Alfred's shoulders and set the pace, smirking down at the besotted American through half-lidded eyes.
A hot blush rose on Alfred's cheeks as he fisted his cock. He let out a shuddering breath, thumbing at the head, pressing against the slit, and pulling up his white t-shirt to his mouth to muffle any embarrassing noises. Eyes screwing shut, he swears, the noise blunted by the rough cotton. He thinks of Matthew, of Matthew's thighs on either side of him, of lean muscle bunching and extending, of broad palms settling on his shoulders.
And he could imagine this scenario for hours, if he wanted. He already knows what Matthew's hair smells like (something woodsy and French because his older brother liked fancy, overpriced hair products and Matthew was weak when his hair was concerned) and just where Matthew glistens when he sweats (and it sounds creepy but he played basketball with Matt once and Matt played skins—best decision ever—and Alfred played shirts and he guarded Matthew, tripped him up and elbowed him in the gut and got away with it, just to see the way the other moved up close) and that Matthew is cursed with a soft voice (and Alfred loves it because Matthew can be the biggest douche but he insults you with the sweetest smile and most dulcet voice and you forget that he hates your guts). But, Alfred doesn't want leisure and gentleness. He wants to grip his cock and work it hard and pretend that Matthew is just as horny as him.
And his cheeks are heating up and he feels a trickle of sweat down his temple and he lets himself fall to the ground, one arm keeping him up as the other is too preoccupied with bringing him to climax. He doesn't realize his mouth has fallen lax and the sodden cloth slips out until he half-whispers, half-begs, "Oh god, Matt."
And his palm is really dry and he should've used lotion but he's practically dribbling pre-cum and that's good enough for his dick right now.
And his fingers barely brush his scrotum before his nails are lightly scraping the vein that runs the length of his shaft when he hears a soft voice say, "Couldn't make it to the shower?"
Alfred feels like he's doused in ice water. And, meeting Matthew's gaze, he might as well have been.
Matthew looks rumpled, sleepy, and a little cross. His hair is tousled and that errant curl is even crooked and Alfred might just vomit all over his work but his hand is still on his cock, his cock is still hard, and Matthew is regarding him from bed.
Alfred laughs, stilted and forced, withdrawing his hand from his pants guiltily. But the bulge is still there and there's another hardness in his eyes that dares Matthew to comment.
He's about to speak when Matthew untangles himself from bed and slowly walks over to Alfred, nudging aside books and notebooks, settling in front of Alfred.
"Let me." He sighs, pushing Alfred back so he's sitting on his calculus problem set. Slender fingers settle at the elastic band of Alfred's sweat pants and Alfred pulls out of his shock to grip the other's wrists.
And the shock drips away to anger and Alfred has never been bullied, has never stood for bullying, and he swears he'll punch Matthew if he's just fucking with him.
But Matthew is not cruel, perhaps a little sharp when roused, but kind at his core. Even when he's being a dick, he can't go all the way and he takes Alfred out for burgers and whatever cheesy sci-fi flick is playing at the student-run theater as an apology.
After he falls over his feet trying to apologize.
"I'm not…" Matthew pauses, voice still a little thick with sleep. He sighs, looking at Alfred before averting his gaze. "Bro Code, Article 107. A Bro never leaves another Bro hanging." He clears his throat and Alfred laughs weakly.
Fuck. How did this even happen?
Alfred and Matthew have been Bros since the first day of freshman year.
Actually, Matthew has been Alfred's Bro since the first day of freshman year. Not because he wanted to, but because Matthew, fresh from Vancouver (actually, he was fresh from Chicago, having lived there for four years after moving from Vancouver but Alfred figured, once a Canadian, always a Canadian until they either made it big in Hollywood or stopped saying 'eh'. Matthew kept the verbal tic just to amuse Alfred. And because he was proud of his Canadian citizenship.), had the misfortune of being Alfred's roommate.
Alfred had already decided that his future roommate would be his future Bro.
He, if you need to be reassured (and with Alfred, you always need to be), did not, preemptively, decide to have a gay crush on his roommate.
That came sometime after he realized Matthew had a cute smile to go with his nice ass.
(Alfred handed over his hetero card after using 'cute' and 'nice' in the same sentence, unironically.)
So, back on track, Alfred decided to give the top bunk to his future Bro as a peace offering and as a test.
Matthew, not realizing it was a test, had just grinned and said, "First come, first serve. If you want the top bunk, take it."
And Alfred had took it, immediately ripping off his Captain America covers from the bottom bunk and throwing them to the top.
"Alfred F. Jones." Alfred had grinned, flashing a winning smile at his new roommate.
"Matthew Williams." Matthew had responded, his smile a little more hesitant.
Matthew didn't realize he was signing away himself away to a lifetime of being Alfred's wingman.
Their Bromance was cemented when Matthew unpacked a soft, white polar bear and looked at it fondly. Fondly.
"Gay." Alfred said sternly, wagging a finger at Matthew. "Son, I am disappoint."
Matthew had stared, polar bear pressed to his chest, violet eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Then, purposely, he pointed at Alfred's crotch, specifically at his Superman (what? DC Comics was cool too!) comic book panel boxers. Due to some unfortunate patterning or something, Superman's face in one panel was plastering directly on his dick. So, if Alfred were to have an erection, Superman would be going up, up, and away.
"Gay." Matthew said evenly. He quirked an eyebrow.
Alfred's lips pressed into a thin line.
He might have met his match.
So he conceded.
"Don't ask, don't tell." The born and bred Kansas City boy nodded seriously.
The atmosphere between them was tense as the two just stared at each other, coming to a telepathic agreement that the bear (Kuma-something something or other) and Alfred's need to have superheroes plastered to his nether regions were off limits.
Then Matthew laughed and said Alfred was weird. And Alfred couldn't help but laugh as well.
"We've been here less than a week and you've already pissed off the Beta house?" Matthew asked, incredulous. He's pouring an obscene amount of maple syrup on his pancakes but Alfred could care less because he's only going to have one bite.
"Dude!" Matthew swatted at his hand. "That's your third."
"Bros before ho's." Alfred retorts, stabbing what's left on one pancake and shoveling it into his mouth.
"That doesn't even apply!" Matthew snaps while Alfred chews around the mass of pancake and syrup.
"Well, with how you eat these babies…" Alfred trails off after swallowing, blue eyes twinkling. He winks. His roommate gives him a disgusted look, but the teen continues. "And, remember, Bro Code, Article 10: A Bro will drop whatever he's doing and rush to help his Bro dump a chick."
Matthew blinks at him once. "What did you do?"
"I might've promised to take her out for dinner and I might've gotten a blowjob out of it and I might have zero intentions of taking her out to dinner and I might not give a fuck."
The other sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That poor girl." He muses and Alfred wants to scold Matthew for being a shitty Bro, but he needs the other's genius. "Is this that—"
"The hot-blooded Latina." Alfred grins, remembering the swell of her breasts and dark eyes.
"…I should throw you in front of their sorority. You're such a douche." He sighed, but he fiddles with his fork before letting it drop into the puddle of syrup on his plate. "Just tell her that you'll only go out to dinner with her…if she shaves." Matthew sighed, tapping at his upper lip.
Alfred blinked before grimacing. "She had a mustache?"
"I don't kno—it doesn't matter!" Matthew shrugged. "She won't want to have a thing to do with you once you say so."
"Are you sure?"
The other blond gave him an affronted look. "After years of watching Francis cut down the most beautiful women in the world with less than three sentences, yes I am sure."
"You're the best, bro." The golden-haired blond grinned.
"And I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for it." His roommate sighed.
This isn't the last time Matthew has to save Alfred's ass.
But it's okay because Alfred is always there for Matthew too.
"What the hell is that?" Alfred hissed, pointing at Matthew's shirt. "It's pink."
"I'd say its more salmon." Matthew mused aloud, staring down at his polo.
"Take it off." The other demanded, still pointed.
"You just want to get me naked." Matthew said airily. "My roommate is a pervert." And he walked past Alfred towards his desk.
Alfred sputtered. "No! Just take it off!"
"Bros do not wear pink! Ever. Even in Europe. We just don't!" Alfred huffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm just looking out for you, dude."
"You know I could probably get more girls in a pink shirt and sandals with socks than you could with your immoral 'I'm a veteran' act."
"Yeah, but you'd probably lose them by stammering into your girly umbrella drink. Seriously, we're at frats, how do you even find those things?"
Matthew shrugged but acquiesced, pulling off the polo and trading it for a canary yellow one. "Better?"
Alfred made a strangled sort of noise and shook his head. At least it wasn't salmon.
See? Alfred will always make sure his Bro doesn't face social ostracism because of his choice of clothing.
…He also always has Matt's back in a fight. People have stopped fucking with the soft-spoken, slightly nerdy looking blond thanks to Alfred breaking enough noses and jaws with a strategic elbow or just flipping the sonuvabitch over a table.
"You okay, Matt?"
Matthew just sighed. "You really should stop doing that. I can handle myself. And it wasn't even a fight. These girls were just talking about this nail salon downtown and I asked for the address and he just called me a 'faggot'." Matthew shot the KO'd teen a dirty look.
Alfred blinked. "Dude. You get your nails done?"
Matthew shot him a dirty look. "It's been longer since a month since my last one. Honestly, it's called the Bro Code, not the Slob Code."
Alfred glanced down at his nails.
"This…this is kind of nice." Alfred said off-handedly as the manicurist massaged his hands with lavender lotion.
Matthew just nodded approvingly in the empty chair next to Alfred.
Both students were sitting in a small nail salon. Its walls were powder blue and there were tasteful flower arrangements and paintings on the walls.
"Men should have good nails." The manicurist, the pretty Vietnamese woman, said. "If not, it's such a turn-off." Then, with a shy smile, she said, "You have very nice hands. Very strong too."
Alfred's eyes widened and he glanced at Matthew who merely smirked and nodded.
Alfred walked out with the pretty manicurist's number and Matthew walked out with an enormous sense of smug satisfaction.
I could keep regaling you with tales of Alfred and Matthew's beautiful bromance. But, when we last left the boys, Matthew was offering to 'help' Alfred with his problem and I have to somehow explain how they ended up at that point before Alfred gets blue balls.
Well, anyways, Alfred and Matthew were like two peas in a pod. They were like an old married couple without the sex or half the arguing.
They were Bros.
Alfred knew that Matthew hated tomatoes and Matthew knew that Alfred hated cucumbers.
Alfred hated Candy Land and Matthew hated Clue so they settled on Monopoly.
Until Matthew beat Alfred and then they had to move on to Scrabble.
Until Matthew beat Alfred at Scrabble and they had to move on to Yahtzee.
But it turns out they both hated Yahtzee so they split the cost for an Xbox 360 and decided, fuck board games, let's play Halo.
Matthew and Alfred worked on the same wavelength. They didn't even fight over girls.
Alfred liked his girls quiet and shy because he liked treating them gently and protecting them. Matthew liked his girls loud and a little tough because he could play the gentleman, but he wanted a girl who could handle shit on her own and berate him for being too overbearing. But who would still hold his hand during scary movies.
"Al! You're going to break my hand!" Matthew swore, attempting to tug his abused hand out of Alfred's death grip. "I need that when I go out for the hockey team!"
Alfred, still staring at the screen, let go but compensated by clinging to Matthew on the couch of the student lounge and shrieking, "Don't open the door don't open the door oh shi—why would you open the door?" Then he wailed as the chainsaw neatly halved the co-ed.
Matthew sat there, stone-faced, as Alfred sobbed into his ear. Then he glanced down at his watch.
"Top Gun starts in two minutes." He said, mildly.
Alfred immediately pulled away, wiped his nose with his sleeve and changed the channel. "I'll be Maverick."
"Remember, Article 89. A Bro shall always say yes in support of a Bro." Alfred whispered urgently and Matthew swatted the other's face away.
"I know." He rolled his eyes as the two approached the co-ed that Alfred had his eye on for the night.
She was tall, terrifying tall in fact, with platinum blond hair that reached mid-back.
"T-that's Ivan's twin." Matthew whimpered, almost coming to a stop. Alfred tried to push him forward. "Oh god, she's taller than Ivan."
"I know." Alfred shrugged. "That's what that Russian fucker gets for making a move on Madeline." His expression darkened.
Matthew sighed and thought of the bespectacled girl in their Classics class. She was okay, nothing really outstanding about her, but she was just Alfred's type. "So you're going to try and get with Ivan's sister—Ivan who will, no doubt, beat me into a pulp at practice just for being in on this—just because he hit on a girl who you have no chance with?"
"When you say it like that, you make me sound like a bad guy." Alfred whined, sounding wounded. "Besides, its not like we're forcing her into anything. She'll initiate it."
"…We?" Matthew gave Alfred a sharp look.
"Hello, Matthew." The tall girl smiled at him, voice soft. "You played very well the other night."
Matthew's expression softened and he smiled at the girl. "Thanks."
When she inched closer to him, a flicker of wickedness in her lavender eyes, Matthew felt a sinking feeling in his gut. "I rather enjoyed how you skated over those two defensemen in order to score the winning goal." She touched his arm. "So, it is true, you and Alfred are good friends?"
Matthew nodded, wary now.
"That's good." She smiled, eyes fluttering shut. "I have always secretly wanted to make you scream."
Matthew shot Alfred a horrified look. "You didn't—"
The Russian girl bent down a little, her thick curtain of hair brushing against Matthew's cheek. "My brother says you're very…well-endowed. And while Alfred was satisfactory, I've always been a little greedy. Will you humor me?"
And then Alfred whispered into his other ear. "It's not gay if it's in a three-way."
Like most things that happened to Matthew and Alfred, it was all Alfred's fault.
Alfred broke Article 34 of the Bro Code.
He made eye contact with Matthew during a devil's three-way.
It had been an innocuous moment. Ivan's sister was currently occupied, on her elbows and knees, doing wicked and magical things to Matthew's member with her mouth as Alfred plowed into her, palms pressed against her wide, soft hips. He was focusing on the dip of her spine.
Until he heard a peculiar sound and he looked up, one golden eyebrow quirked. Ivan's sister's voice was low and slightly husky but the noise was higher and softer.
And his gaze fell on Matthew who was now biting his lip and blushing all shades of pink and red as Ivan's sister deep-throated him and Alfred realized that Matthew uttered the embarrassing noise.
And Alfred's next thrust faltered because Matthew glanced at him, violet eyes dark, curls sticking to his face.
And, damn it all, if Alfred didn't shiver because there was a certain rawness in Matthew's face and for a moment Alfred almost couldn't breathe.
Matthew doesn't mention their eye contact and Alfred is grateful because he was outright staring at the other teenager.
Rather, Matthew whispers, "Ivan is going to kill us."
Alfred chuckled weakly. "But it was worth it, right?"
His best friend snorted and Alfred wondered if it was normal for just a noise to send his decelerating heart rate racing again.
Matthew is on the other side of Ivan's sister and Alfred is terrified to look over at him.
The two walk back to their dorm just as the sun is peeking over the horizon. Blond hair tousled and lips bitten, both boys look like someone threw them down and rode them like stallions.
Which was fairly close to what happened, honestly.
"Never again." Matthew groaned, falling onto his bunk when they managed to drag themselves back to their dorm room. "Damn her thighs. I thought she was going to crack my skull open when I went down on her."
"You liked it." Alfred said dismissively, too exhausted to climb up the ladder and instead flopping onto the desk chair. He can't get the image of Matthew out of his head. And, because he can't stop thinking about Matthew in that one moment, he also goes back to other times.
Ivan's sister had nearly blacked out once Matthew finished with her and Alfred was half-terrified that the crazy bitch would rip out his friend's tongue to keep as a souvenir.
Because she had casually bitten down on his fingers and mumbled about how Alfred had magical hands so Alfred didn't put it past her to be as insane as her brother.
He realizes that Matthew is asleep and he can't help but look at the other in a new, pretty rose-colored light.
"Everything he does makes me feel stupid and light-headed." Alfred said dramatically, slumping over the laboratory table.
Gilbert gave him strange look. "Jones, shut your trap and help me titrate this bitch."
Once he had Alfred on titration duty, the albino adjusted his huge lab goggles and asked, "Now who makes you feel stupid?"
"Matt." Alfred sighed, blue eyes waiting for some glimmer of pink in the solution. "He could be eating salad and I don't even have the heart to mock him for eating green shit."
Gilbert snorted. "And you want to be a doctor? How can anyone trust you to tell them to stop smoking when you can't even tell your best friend that eating lettuce is for pussies?"
"He doesn't listen to me anyways."
The other student gave him a disgusted look. "The fact that you can say that and not feel like a disgrace to all of Brokind, just proves that you've got it bad." He shook his head. "Pathetic."
"At least I didn't lose my girlfriend to a guy who wears a cravat." Alfred snapped.
Matthew was laughing. "He slapped you with a test tube?" He dissolved into a mess of giggles.
Alfred pouted. "Yeah, well, you should see the shiner I gave Gilbert."
"With what? A beaker?" Matthew snorted.
Alfred was too busy hiding a blush to retort. Matthew lit up when he laughed.
"You listen to Sarah McLachlan?" Alfred asked, stunned, letting his book bag drop to the ground from lax fingers.
Matthew scrambled for his laptop, slamming the lid shut. Unfortunately, "In the Arms of an Angel" continued to filter out of the speakers and Matthew blushed, covering the laptop with his pillow. "Only because I'm trying to get into the female psyche. It's not because I find her music haunting and beautiful." He was now trying to muffle the music with his body, not looking at Alfred.
Alfred shook his head and turned to leave the room. But, thinking better of it, he sighed and, swallowing hard, admitted, "I'm actually really fond of 'I will remember you'."
There was a stretch of silence and Alfred could hear the bed creaking.
And then the vocals of Sarah McLachlan began to soar and Alfred turned too look back at Matthew who was avoiding his gaze.
"Just between us." Matthew suggested.
"Just between us." Alfred agreed.
Alfred and Matthew are crammed in the back seat of Will's car in between Gilbert and Will's sister.
Matthew is currently chatting with her in French, with a smile that would make his playboy brother proud. She laughs and she's pretty and just Matt's type and Alfred might be seething with jealousy.
"You're practically red, dude." Gilbert snickered. "He's got his hand on her thigh and you're stuck with your arms at your side."
Oh shit. He'd have to break another Bro Article.
Belle was leaning in close.
Alfred bit the bullet.
Raising his right arm that was anchoring Matthew in place, he brought it up across the back of the seat so Matthew fell against him, his hair brushing against Alfred's mouth and—whoa, Matt's hair smelled awesome!
But Matthew gave him an annoyed look, straightening up, his head now resting against Alfred's bicep. Then, completing it, Alfred wrapped his arm around Matthew's shoulders and effectively creating a barrier between Belle and Matthew.
Gilbert was shaking his head, muffling laughter, and even Will was staring at him in the rearview mirror. Antonio, in the front seat (much to Will's consternation), seemed amused by it, grinning at Alfred.
When Matthew gave Alfred a curious look, the physics major was staring out the window in faux disinterest.
But Matthew didn't shove off his arm. And even though Belle gave him her number, he lost it a few day's later in the mass of sticky notes on his desk.
Everything seems to be going too fast for Alfred to understand. He's possessive and irritable. He half-heartedly goes after women. He doesn't like it when Matt is out of his sight for too long. He wants to make Matthew laugh and he wants to press his fingertips to the other's cheek and lean close for a kiss.
He wants to do mushy, romantic things with Matthew and he didn't even want to do mushy, romantic things with his last girlfriend.
But Matthew doesn't notice a damn thing, just accepts Alfred's behavior as quirks. Even when Alfred gets too physical in basketball, Matthew just takes the shoves and gives it as good as he gets. Alfred, apparently, is giving Matthew doe eyes and everyone already knows that he's head-over-heels for his roommate.
Even Arthur, Matthew's Contemporary English Literature TA, suggests different methods of wooing the blond. Kiku consolingly pats his forearm when he turns in his problem sets. And even Francis calls (and how Matthew's brother found out, he had no clue) to wish him good luck and asks what his future plans are.
Upon finding out that Alfred wanted to be a pediatrician, he says, with great reluctance, "I suppose Matthew doesn't have to settle down with a model." So Alfred assumes he passed some sort of weird test.
Even Katyusha, Matthew's ex-girlfriend, whispers that Matthew likes textures.
"He is most fond of silk." She whispers, bosom bouncing and once upon a time, Alfred would've sacrificed a small child to the gods if he could get just five minutes with those breasts and now he wants to cuddle with Matthew on the couch and maybe hold hands.
He'd sacrifice a small child for the chance.
Hell, he'd sacrifice a bus full of small children if need be.
But, the thought makes Superman's face on his boxers very judgmental so he decides against it.
So, everything builds up, surging and surging into a crescendo and Alfred doesn't know what to do and he feels like he's going crazy because he hears Matthew's laughter in the wind and whenever he makes eye contact with the other, he sees the moon and stars and the entire galaxy even spun into Matthew's eyes and he's so in love that he doesn't even know what to do with himself.
Alfred can't become a girl. He's too fond of his man parts and, frankly, vaginas are only nice when fitted around a cock otherwise they just look nasty.
But he can do other things to endear himself to Matthew. Things that don't involve sex.
"Hot chocolate with whip." Alfred says brightly, taking a seat next to Matthew and resting his feet on the table of the student lounge.
Matthew gives him a strange look and hesitantly accepts the warm drink. "Thanks." He says, quietly, violet eyes flicking over Alfred's face. "What'd you do to it?" His nose is scrunched up and Alfred thinks it's adorable.
Oh back off. He already burned his hetero card.
"I didn't dip my balls in it." He rolled his eyes. "So stop looking at it like I did."
"You did it to Gilbert." Matthew pointed out, pulling off the lid and blowing on the hot drink.
"You didn't put draw a penis on my face." Alfred said moodily.
Matthew laughed at the memory. "You can't be mad about that. You were the one who fell asleep on his bed." And then he took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate.
He didn't notice the whipped cream heart that Alfred begged the barista to make.
Alfred took a sip of his own coffee, a little happy and a little upset.
"We're perfect together." Alfred laughs, pulling Matthew close. Matthew laughs, too, and slings an arm around the other blond as well.
"So they both like Law and Order. Big deal." Gilbert said loudly.
Willem hushed him.
And it is a month after this incident that we find Alfred jacking off to the thought of Matthew writhing in his lap.
Matthew leans forward, then, lips ghosting along Alfred's. "Please." He whispered. "You don't have to hide it anymore."
And Alfred let go of him, taking a deep breath as Matthew softly pulled down his sweat pants to mid thigh, his member still painfully hard.
Alfred almost sobs when Matthew takes him in hand, his palms calloused from holding a hockey stick. Head tilting back, Alfred misses the quick look Matthew gives him before stroking him with easy, firm strokes.
Alfred crumples papers under him, hands clenching and unclenching, he leans forward, shadowing over Matthew when the other student slides his lips down the length of his shaft, tongue dragging up the vein in the side. And Alfred tangles his fingers in the other's soft, wheat-colored hair and Matthew makes a noise of protest, licking a long stripe up the member and muttering, "Watch it."
And then he wraps his lips around Alfred's head and purses his lips, tongue pressing against the slit briefly before he slowly takes the rest of Alfred in, earning a pleased groan from the other blond as his cock is enveloped by warmth.
"Oh fuck, Matt." Alfred breathes out, brushing Matthew's hair from his face and getting a firsthand look at the other's lips stretched around him, cheeks flushed.
The rest is sort of blurry. He can pick out bits and pieces. He remembers slipping a finger past Matthew's lips even though there's not much room in his mouth and stretching his mouth open further so he could watch better. And then he remembers gripping Matthew's hair and forcing his head down faster and forcing him to take him deeper and Matthew had loved it, moaning wantonly and nails dragging down Alfred's thigh. Fingers massaging his scrotum and streaks of wetness on Matthew's cheeks when he pulled away to litter kisses down the shaft and at the tip.
And Alfred didn't know if he wanted to cum on Matthew's face or in his mouth but he knew he really wanted to kiss Matthew so the entire encounter ends with Alfred pushing Matthew down and plundering his mouth as Matthew had tugged his hair and entwined their fingers. And Alfred had just grinding against Matthew's thigh, choking on his climax and moaning into Matthew's mouth.
And the last thing he remembered was Matthew kissing him softly as he drifted off to sleep.
When Alfred woke up, he shot straight up and swore.
He had two hours to get to his calculus discussion section and he never finished his problem set.
The second thing he noticed was that he was passed out on the floor, a wet stain on his sweat pants.
Then he realized that Matthew had just entered and was giving studying him from the door, blond bangs in his face and looking a little nervous.
"Matt, I—" Alfred didn't know what to say because Matthew's bed was made and the entire encounter felt hazy in his mind, the edges blurred and any feelings out of reach.
"I talked to Yong Soo." Matthew began, toeing off his sneakers. "I called in a favor and got him to photocopy his finished problem set. I know you don't approve of cheating, but you don't really have a choice." He took off his jacket and didn't look at Alfred as he dropped his satchel onto his desk and began to rummage through it. "I let you sleep in. I have the notes from Classics this morning. You didn't miss anything. Just go shower and here." He put the photocopy on Alfred's desk. "I'll see you later."
"Matt." Alfred repeated.
"We can talk later, Al." Matthew said firmly.
The moment his discussion section ended, Alfred shoved his crumpled, soda stained problem set at Kiku and sprinted out of the room, across campus, and up the stairs of his dormitory.
And bursting into the room, he found Matthew sitting on his bunk bed, staring blankly at the wall.
"It wasn't a dream." Alfred said quietly, slamming the door behind him. "Was it?"
Matthew shook his head, drawing his knees up to his chest.
"Because the first time we met you looked at me like I was the only person in the world and I'm so pathetic I'll do anything for it to happen again." Matthew laughed, sharp and self-deprecating. "And last night I realized that I wasn't imagining things and no matter how much I try to ignore the fact I'm attracted to guys, your smile makes it all irrelevant." He shrugged. "And if you want to shut this away with the fact that we both like Sarah McLachlan and cry during the Titanic, then it's okay."
Alfred licked his lips and stepped closer. "And what if I don't want to?"
Matthew's shoulders stiffened and he gave Alfred a cold look. "I'd rather be bros forever than be your experimental foray into gay love." He spat out, violet eyes frigid.
"…But you were already my experimental foray into gay love." Alfred said, unthinkingly. "You put your mouth on my junk, dude. You can't just ignore that sort of thing."
"Are you sure?"
Alfred just stared at Matthew. "Well, we could. But I don't want to." And he just stood there, awkwardly. Then, he said, "Sometimes I look at you and I can't breathe and its not just because the sun is catching your hair the right way or because you do this thing where you tilt your head and half-smile when I'm being an idiot. I just can't believe that I'm with you. And I want to be with you for a longtime."
Matthew was silent, looking away, before finally saying, "I don't want to ignore it either."
The admittance hangs there, suspended in the silence. And Alfred doesn't realize he's smiling until Matthew looks at him and is smiling back.
Willem is Netherlands, Belle is Belgium, Ivan's Sister is Fem!Ivan, basically. Bro Code stuff taken from How I Met Your Mother. I also apologize for the gratuitous use of offensive terms.
I'm back, bitches. (for now) -swaggers off regardless-