SandiaHero, tmmdeathwishraven, Guest, CrimsonPruCan, Guest, Guest, Arh0, Anon007, Guest, my lovely girlfriend, cuzimafreak, Cynmia, SmarmyMarmalade and Zenna95.
AMSDHKSDH this is M rated. Skip the first 800 words if that's not what you came here to see. Well, guys, this fic has put me through the wringer, and shit has gone down, and I have other things that need writing, and I'm a very cold, very sleepy writer, but thank you all for reading anyway. I know this isn't what some of you would have hoped, and it's not really what I had in mind, either, but I can't please everyone, only hope that I can do better next time. See you around, gang!
"We've been together for a year now," Alfred announced, twelve months and two weeks into their relationship, which Matthew was thankful for every day. He hadn't believed that it was possible, and here they were, together, just spending time together and if he wanted to, Matthew could just lean up from here his head was resting in the American's lap, tug on his collar and they could kiss. As simple as that.
"Aren't you clever?" the Canadian smiled fondly, his fingers tracing the underside of Alfred's jaw.
"Do you not want to have sex with anyone at all, or are you still afraid I'm going to leave you?"
Matthew sat bolt upright, twisting around to face his best boyfriend properly, "What?"
"I'm serious. Are you trying some sort of celibacy thing – because some advance warning would have been nice, or is there some other reason that you don't want to have sex with me specifically?" The American's blue eyes were unusually serious and it made Matt's heart thud erratically in his chest.
"I didn't think you wanted to have sex with me," his voice was very small, and he couldn't look at the other.
"Wrong answer, try again," Alfred said cheerfully, "I've been making passes at you all year and whenever I do you start talking about the weather. I'm not stupid. We're not teenagers, it's okay to be intimate with your partner."
"You won't like my answer," Matt's answer was flat and devoid of emotion.
"You don't think," The American formed his words slowly, weighing them on his tongue, "That I'm just trying to get into your pants, do you? Because if you do, I am going to be so pissed off at you."
"What? No! I know you wouldn't! I just," Matthew's eyes turned to his bookshelf, studying the worn spines as though he was going to write a test on them later, "I had a pretty… unpleasant dream once. I … I forced myself onto you. I don't want to do that. I don't want-"
"You," Alfred laughed, tugging his boyfriend into his lap and cuddling him close, kissing his neck, "Are fucking insane, you know that? I know you could never hurt me. I won't deny that the idea of ass-sex scares me a little, but I trust you."
"Tomorrow, we can have sex tomorrow," Matthew said, his voice shaking.
"Why not today?" the American asked reasonably.
"Darling," the Canadian drawled, "Go with me on this one. Having sex with a man takes a lot more prep."
"Mattie?" Alfred heard the shower stop and stuck his head around the bedroom door and stopped dead. Matthew was standing completely naked at the end of the bed, his back to the door as he pulled his damp hair back into a ponytail.
The American's mouth went very dry and he gravitated to the man in the centre of the room like an ocean to the moon. His hands found themselves on the Canadian's hips, fingers pressing into his skin, drawing little circles in the heat-flushed skin, still warm from his shower.
A faint smile on his lips, Matthew turned, facing Alfred, his hands moving over the cotton that covered his chest, "Ready for your first gay experience?"
"I love you," their heartbeats thudded loudly in their veins.
"Alright," the Canadian's voice was hoarse, "First step; get naked. I win."
Alfred's shirt was over his head and his pants on the floor faster than Matt could believe, his boxers soon joining them.
"Piece of cake," The American smiled lazily, "Now what's a guy got to do to get his boyfriend hard?"
"A good-looking guy like you?" the strawberry-blond murmured into his neck, lips and cautious teeth moving reverentially across his skin, "Not much."
"A good-looking guy like me, huh? Well, I'm not going to argue with you there," the smile on Alfred's lips was wide and sensuous, "Go on," he whispered, "Mark me, Mattie. I'm yours, and I know you want to."
"And how do you know that?" was the whispered reply, the Canadian's open lips barely touching the American's skin as he followed the path of tension in his neck.
"I've yet to see the boyfriend of yours who doesn't walk away covered in love bi-ah!" the American's tanned hands dropped to Matt's ass, pulling them flush, their rapidly hardening cocks celebrating the contact. Gold-skinned fingers formed blunt claws to drag down a pale back. Alfred drew deep, steady breathes, tilting his head back in submission as the Canuck's teeth raked over the skin of his neck, an open mouthed kiss leaving its warm apology.
"There, now they know you're mine," Matthew's lips were damp as they spoke against Alfred's and once more the All-American groaned his approval.
"Not that they didn't know before now," Al smiled, nuzzling into the Canadian's cheek.
Gentle hands pushed Alfred back until he hit the bed, sitting down. Keeping their eyes, Matthew sank down onto his knees, sliding his pale hands along firm, golden thighs and spreading them.
"Oh, God, Mattie, what are-? You don't need to-" his words were cut off by a throaty moan as the Canuck's lips closed around the head of his cock, sucking gently. Slowly, ever so slowly, Alfred watched that red-blond mop descend into his lap, the sensations it brought with it scrambling his thoughts. Tan hands fisted in the bed sheets, and a golden blond head flopped back, a guttural growl of pleasure escaping bitten lips. And then it was gone.
Alfred looked down in dazed confusion, blue eyes meeting midnight purple.
"Why?" he croaked.
"I can't ride a soft cock," was the quiet reply, and it made tingling heat break out across the American's body.
"I thought you were going to-?" he tried to explain what he had assumed while Matthew pushed him back, straddling his lips, squeezing lube onto his hand from a tube he had rescued from the nightstand.
"I figured this might be easier; you're used to women," the Canadian breathed, slicked fingers tracing his own entrance, pressing in, curling and seeking. He gave a gasp, rocking back into the digits, "Oh, God, Al!"
More lube was applied to Alfred's straining member, and with trembling thighs, Matthew sank down onto him.
"Mattie!" a pleasured flush stained Alfred's skin, his breathing ragged. Matt's hands found themselves on that tan chest as he rose and fell,
"Easy, Al," he panted, rolling his hips as the other nodded, rocking their bodies together, "Yeah, like that. Oh fuck-"
"I was not this gay before we started seeing each other," Matthew groused, tucking scarlet napkins into napkin rings and setting them on the table in a last-minute flurry of activity before their guests arrived, "I mean, really, a dinner party? How old are we?"
"Oh, shut up, Matt, it's Thanksgiving, be thankful," Alfred yelled cheerily, pulling a pumpkin pie from the oven and slicking the switch on the electric beaters so that there would be cream to go with it.
"That it only happens once a year," the Canadian muttered, whipping off his apron as the doorbell rang.
"Amelia, Franklin! Francis, Arthur! Thank you so much for coming, we're so glad you're here. Alfred, leave the bird alone and come say hello to your mother!" Matthew's smile was at full wattage as he beckoned his boyfriend, "Al, I don't think you've met Francis' partner; Arthur Kirkland."
Alfred and Arthur stared at each other for a long moment before shaking hands and exchanging awkward introductions. Once Matthew had steered the other three toward the dinner table, the American spoke up,
"You, doc, are a bad therapist," he said, a slightly awed tone to his voice.
"What are you going to do about it?" Arthur asked resignedly. He could lose his licence over this.
"Say thank you."
Matthew awoke to the gentle sound of someone putting something down very carefully on his bedside table and the smell of scrambled eggs and toast.
"Frankie?" he asked, his voice croaky with sleep, "Hey, buddy. What're you doing?"
Blinking owlishly, the Canadian looked up at the boy who sort of had his hair and sort of had Alfred's eyes, though he was the product of neither. A small, shy smile lit his young face,
"Morning, Papa. I just came to wish you and Daddy happy anniversary before Auntie Katy come to pick me up. I made you breakfast." True to his word, Franklin Williams-Jones had made a meal fit for an eight-year-old. There was coffee and eggs and Lucky Charms, and a card that had a drawing of two stick-ish figures in a red felt-tip heart.
"You are amazing, thank you so much," Matthew's hand snaked out of the covers to ruffle his son's hair, "But I think your Daddy is still asleep."
"Can you wake him up?" the boy asked hopefully, "I want him to see the card."
"Okay, hang on," the Canadian grinned, pecking Frankie's forehead before diving over at Alfred, kissing him full on the lips, "Hmmm, wake up, sleeping beauty."
"Papa.." their son protested as Alfred began to stir under the barrage of lips.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" the American chuckled sleepily, a lazy grin stretching his lips.
"This little monster," Matthew picked up a squealing Frankie, depositing him between them, "Has something he wants to show us."
Snatching up his card, the boy opened it, showing a child's drawing of the three of them, and a child's clumsy handwriting that bore the message:
Happi 10 year Annyversery Daddy and Papa.
"Aren't you clever?" Alfred crowed, "You drew this yourself?"
"Uh-huh," Frankie nodded enthusiastically, "And I made breakfast!" the American first kissed his son's hair and then his lover's lips.
"My big strong men," he said fondly, "Where would I be without you?"
"Still asleep with no breakfast," Matthew grinned, "Buddy, are you all ready to visit Auntie Katy and Uncle Nic?" the boy nodded happily, one of Matthew's toast fingers in his mouth.
"I love you," Matthew sighed contentedly as they lay in each other's arms, glow fading. Alfred pressed a kiss to his temple and the laugh lines that were showing at the corners of his eyes,
"I love you, too."
"Mmmn, I'm not so sure about that," there was a cheeky grin all over the Canadian's face, "You still haven't woken up before me."