Smile Like You Mean It

Matthew knew he should feel bad. Knew he shouldn't have taken advantage of the situation when Arthur had looked up at him with teary eyes and choked out "Alfred." He knew he should have taken pity on him, taken him home and taken care of him and forever been the perfect one. Forever the obedient one. Shouldn't have kissed him with a fervor that burned his mouth.

Shouldn't have pushed him against the beaten wood of the bar and smiled Alfred's smile when Arthur gasped deliciously and pulled him closer. Shouldn't have allowed it to continue when Arthur got hungry for it. Not when he was hungry for it too.

But he did.

"Alfred." Arthur moaned, running his fingers through Matthew's hair. And he ignored the sting and kept smiling Alfred's smile. He touched the way Alfred touched. Passionate, rough. Bruising and loving and damaging.

Every stuttered moan of Alfred's name burned. Crushed him because no! He was here. He was Matthew. He was the one kissing Arthur, making Arthur moan. He had loved Arthur for so painfully long. He deserved this. For being loyal. For years of bowing and licking Arthur's boot. He deserved something. He deserved Arthur's kiss. Arthur's love.

Something at least.

He was hungry for it and he needed it and Alfred didn't want it. Alfred didn't see the way Arthur looked at him and maybe, maybe of he just noticed that Matthew looked at him the same way.

Arthur's legs wrapped around his, gasping quietly and breathing harshly, stomach tense and muscles fluttering and voice begging. Matthew felt under his shirt, over his raised scars, crushed his own guilt.

"Arthur." He whispered it in his own voice. Not in an Alfred way. But Arthur was already too far gone to notice. "I love you." Too quiet for Arthur to hear. Painfully quiet. And then he was smiling Alfred's smile and kissing Alfred's kiss and hating Alfred more than ever.

Arthur rubbed them together desperately, groaning as Matthew touched him, Alfred's name slipping off his lips in between little noises of pleasure. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad he was nearly dizzy with it. Wanted Alfred to stare at him with those gorgeous blue violet eyes that glinted with pain.

And Matthew wanted to cry wretchedly. But he smiled and pulled Arthur to his own apartment, ravishing his face and neck in kisses to remember the taste. To leave marks. He loved Arthur the most. More than Alfred or Francis or anyone ever could.

Arthur fell against him, eyes half lidded, face flushed, his expression hungry. Matthew easily pushed him down. Took his time undoing each button because he wanted the stolen moment to last, even as Arthur whined impatiently.

Arthur had scars along his body. Raised, obvious, white. Matthew took a moment to kiss each one, ran his tongue along and nipped, just to hear Arthur whimper as sweetly as he was then. Just to imprint the sound in his memory. "Oh! Oh god." Just to have Arthur look at him like that.

Arthur's body was tight and lithe and warm. A line down his back was slicked with sweat, and Matthew swiped his tongue along it to taste him. To taste Arthur.

When he pushed in, they both nearly screamed. And Matthew realized sickly that he really shouldn't have touched Arthur. Shouldn't have gotten addicted to how easily he opened for him. To how willingly he moved, how loudly he moaned.

Should have turned tail and fled when Arthur gave him that look.

But dear god was it worth it when Arthur screamed out passionately and gripped his shoulders, drawing his nails across his back as a form of punishment. And Matthew would wear it proudly. So he grinned Alfred's grin and made Arthur scream louder. Ignored the garbled cries for Alfred. Always for Alfred.

The next morning, he sat beside a sleeping Arthur just long enough to memorize his peaceful sleep, his relaxed face. He took a moment to kiss his face, gently and barely there. He had been so close to crying. Sour bitter tears, rather than tears of joy.

He couldn't smile at Arthur and be Matthew. In the end, Alfred's smile won out. In the end he was still nothing. He still had nothing.

He didn't even have his own smile.

Owari