A/N: So this is my first PruCan. I will make any changes my readers feel are necessary to better capture their relationship dynamic. I hope this isn't too slow of a start. Next chapter(s) will be smut.
The trademark sigh immediately made Matthew's teeth clench.
"What we have isn't a 24/7 thing, Mattie. It gets... exhausting. And I love it and I love you and I'm sorry that I've been working so late at the office... I'm just tired."
Matthew extinguished the flicker of guilt he felt. It takes two to form a relationship. Lately, it felt as though he were the only one interested. He assumed his position standing behind the couch and helped Gil pull his shirt over his head. He looked at the tense, corded flesh drawn over broad shoulders and set his hands on either side of the man's neck, beginning the painstaking task of loosening knots that did not want to be loosened.
"Mmmm..." Gilbert hung his head, releasing a few grateful noises.
Matthew wasn't fazed. His eyes were hardened, and his jaw was clenched tighter than a bear trap. "Are you bored with me?" he asked in a chillingly soft voice, and just like that, any progress he had made on the tight muscles in Gilbert's shoulders disappeared.
He glanced over his shoulder at the blond with strawberry red eyes. "Never. Don't ever suggest that again, Matthew."
He couldn't help but flinch at the harshness in Gilbert's tone. It made a few curls of heat form in the pit of his stomach.
"Well, how aren't I supposed to think that, eh? I hardly see you and when you come home all you do is eat and go to bed. And you're gone before I ever wake up. I don't appreciate it. Makes me feel like maybe there's someone else..."
Gilbert outright glared. "There isn't anyone else. But if you keep on like this there will be."
Matthew growled. He grabbed Gilbert's hair and gave it a sharp tug, something he knew Gil hated.
"Watch it," Gil warned.
Matthew looked down on him defiantly. Slowly, Gilbert stood and turned to face him, muscles rippling in a silent threat.
This.
This was what Matthew wanted. He wanted Gil to feel as angry as he did, and to channel it into... Something.
The blond crossed his arms and stood his ground. "I've done everything right, everything we've agreed on." He eyed the narrow, whisker-like scars on the albino's left bicep.
It felt as if his arm were on fire, and Gilbert placed a protective hand on it, covering the area. They stood there quietly, staring each other down.
"If you're not bored with me, prove it."
Gilbert shook his head. "You're not doing everything right. Take right now for example. Challenging me and disrespecting me."
Matthew reddened. "Then do something about it," he spluttered. He whipped his shirt off and threw it aside, where it landed over in their disorganized pile of shoes by the door.
Gilbert watched him with scrutiny, seemingly unimpressed.
Matthew wasn't sure what he had been planning to do, but he realized that he had been subconsciously onto something. He slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, letting the denim sag around his hips. In a smooth, confident voice he said, "Look at all of my skin..."
The Prussian quirked a brow at this.
He continued. "You've called it perfect so many times... and you've left mark after mark after mark on me..."
The male licked his lips, mouth going dry, infra-red eyes trained on the blond's every movement. He felt a stirring in his lower stomach.
"And they always went away, didn't they? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were always a little disappointed... All of them, gone... All but this..." He exposed his hip bone, where there were a few narrow scratches, turned silver from the scar tissue.
Now Gilbert was impatient. "What are you getting at Matt? I've got better things to do than watch you strip like some common whore."
Matt's eyes fell closed and he licked his lips. Those curls of heat in the pit of his stomach were spreading now, and just with those words, the Canadian was half-hard. "I remember saying once that I didn't want permanent markings—"
"Don't remind me," Gil interjected curtly.
Matt placed on a hand on his hip, head tilted condescendingly to the side. "I'm sorry, Sir. Did the middle of my sentence interrupt the beginning of yours?"
The albino pinkened in his cheeks.
"Yeah. As I was saying. What if I let you? What if I let you, just for tonight..." He walked slowly backwards, pausing when he bumped into the kitchen island, and reached into a drawer. He pulled out a knife, still in the case, clearly new, and looked at it in his hand. "What if I let you draw a little blood."
When he looked up, Gilbert was right in front of him. "Basement."
Matthew let a devious grin grace his face. He slowly sank to his knees, head bowed. "Sir."
Gilbert nudged the other with his shoe and snapped his fingers, pointing to the basement door. "Do I need to say it again?"
Matt looked up at him, pupils dilated to orbs. Then he was off like a rocket, running across the kitchen and throwing open the basement door, bracing his hands on the walls as he ran down the stairs.
He'd left the knife on the counter, for Gil.
Gil picked it up. It was nothing short of a fancy scalpel, but to Gil, it wasn't a knife, it was a paint brush— and the only color he painted so precisely in was ruby red.
He reflected for a few moments, feeling the guilt that he should for neglecting Matt in this way. They knew this wasn't going to be an all the time ordeal, but it was to be expected at least once a week, if not more.
It had been about a three weeks since they'd last screwed around, and he knew that when he descended those stairs, he will have been granted full permission to be as wild as he wanted, and he would be able to release all of his pent up frustrations and channel it into one body.
And Matt would fucking like it, so help him.
A/N: How'd I do?