For the Invisible and Insecure

Part II: Lust

Bright blue eyes stare back at him. They look much like the blue that Alfred's eyes were, except they twinkle with...mischief? It's a man - Matthew thought he was a girl until he caught a glimpse of the stubble. His hair is blond and wavy, stopping several centimeters below his chin. Oh, hey - this guy can pass for a blood relative!

"Bonjour, Matthieu," the man speaks. Matthew realizes that he's practically laying over the table, narrowly missing the plate of pancakes.


"Je m'appelle Francis," the blond stranger continues.

(So he's French too? As Arthur would say sarcastically, "Bloody brilliant.")

"Oh..." Matthew rubs his arm awkwardly. "Hi. Um, I'm Matthew. What'd you just say?" That's a lie, of course. French is his second language and he understood every single word of what this "Francis" said.

The Frenchman(?) tilts his head to the side. "Ah, really now?" he says, switching languages smoothly. "Arthur informed us that you speak English as well as French and German, but perhaps he was wrong..." He pauses thoughtfully.

"Th-That's unfortunate." Wait, they're stalking him, too? How did they know what languages he spoke? Merde.

"Indeed," Francis murmurs, gaze traveling down his body - almost lustfully.

Why did Matthew feel like he was slowly being mentally undressed...? "I take it you're one of my...visitors?" he asks brightly, attempting to change the mood. He turns around, deciding that he didn't like being stared at by this man.

"That's correct." He hears Francis slide off of the counter. A few seconds later, the taller blond is at his side. "Matthew," he said.

Matthew halts in his tracks when he felt the man's hand on his cheek. "Uh...F-Francis?" he asks, nervous about their close proximity. (You weren't complaining when Alfred kissed you, a voice chimes in his mind, and he thinks, Shut up.)

"I don't think I've met anyone," Francis says lowly, "with eyes as beautiful as yours."

Oh. Okay, um, that is unexpected. Matthew finds himself blushing. "Does that usually work on other people?" he stammers, trying to at least regain a bit of his dignity. He looks down at the floor, too embarrassed to make eye contact anymore.

Francis blinks. "This is interesting," he says. He places a finger on his lip thoughtfully. "You don't feel any different?"

"Not really, eh." Matthew glances down at himself wonderingly. "Why? Is something supposed to be happening?"

This time, Francis looks bemuse. "Well, you see, mon chaton," he begins, the French endearment slipping out without much thought, "being the Sin of Lust comes with its benefits."

Well, he at least considers them as benefits. Everyone else seems to just resent it, but he likes to think that they're just jealous.

"Benefits?" They reach the living room and Matthew takes a seat; Francis decides to sit next to him. The Canadian regards him warily. "What kind of benefits?" He's thinking, What can you possibly benefit from being the Sin of Lust? Then he remembers that there's a thing called sex with dubious-consent/no consent/rape and thinks, Oh, right.

"You see," Francis seems to be inching closer, "I can...persuade people into feeling and doing things."

"Oh." Matthew tries not to shudder when he feels Francis place two fingers under his chin, tilting it up. "F-Francis...?"

Instead of a reply, he feels a pair of lips press into his own. For a few seconds, all he can do is sit there dumbly; he can hardly believe that he's now officially been kissed twice. In the same night.

He feels proud and kind of violated.

"You're beautiful," Francis murmurs in between their lips.

Too distracted by the warm sensations running through his body, Matthew doesn't notice that the other has switched to French. "I'm a boy," he mumbles in reply. "I'm not supposed to be beautiful."

"Ah," Francis says teasingly, pulling away to smile. "You do speak French."

Matthew tries to ward the haziness off of his thoughts. Had he replied in French? Shit... "Uh, I don't know what you're talking about?" he offers meakly.

Francis chuckles. "It's nothing that you have to lie about, petit. It just makes you all the more amazing." He leans in again, presumably for another kiss, but this time Matthew presses a hand against his chest to stop him.

"I'm sorry, Francis," Matthew tries not to stammer, "but... I mean, I really appreciate the things you said to me... I think this is too fast." He continues quickly, "As the Sin of Lust, I understand if you're used to people just showing you to their bedroom on the first meeting, but I'm not like that. I... I'd like a little more, eh?"

Tilting his head to the side, Francis asks, "So you would like me to court you first?"

Matthew blushes. "I was thinking that maybe we could get to know each other more first," he explains. "Although being courted would be...lovely, I don't even know your last name."

That elicits a small laugh from the Frenchman. "Francis Bonnefoy. And now you know," he says, smiling. "As for getting to know-"

Before he can finish, a loud crash resounds from somewhere in the kitchen. Matthew is standing alert on his feet within seconds. "Wh-What was that?" he asks worriedly, trying to peek into the kitchen from his place.

Another crash echoes throughout the house. Matthew panics and grabs the TV remote from the coffee table, heading to the kitchen with the makeshift weapon wielded carefully in his grip. "Francis, can you..." When he turns around, he sees that Francis has disappeared.

(Oh, gee, how nice of the guy.)

"Wh-Who's there?" Matthew demands. He curses himself for not sounding stronger. "I h-have a weapon! Don't even think of trying to attack me!" Untrue. He has a measly TV remote, but whatever is in his kitchen doesn't need to know that.

"Hey!" a loud voice greets, and Matthew yelps, swinging the remote blindly. "Whoa, watch it!" The Canadian stumbles backwards, facing the man apprehensively.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the stranger says. He has hair curiously colored silver, and his eyes are crimson and filled with mirth.

Matthew inhales and tries to calm himself down. "You're another one of my visitors, aren't you?" he asks wearily.

The crimson-eyed man grins and shoots him a thumbs up. "You bet. I would've been here sooner if Arthur hadn't called Franny back," he said, sounding a little too enthusiastic. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, and I hope you're ready for an awesome time with me!"

A/N: /throws the update at you

...Can anyone guess what Sin Gilbert is? ;D