Keahi: c': Uwah! I'm so glad people like this. It makes me jolly as a roger, yes it does. This one-shot is based off the song Propane Nightmares by Pendulum~! When I started this little one-shot/song challenge, I knew I wanted to write something that was like this, so I hope I did the song justice and still managed to write what I wanted.
I kind of love feedback. J-Just saying.
He had to pause. He sat back up, moving away from the blonde under him, and took the time to drink in the sight. His mind reeled for just a moment, thinking back and looking forward and trying to appreciate what he had right now at the same time.
Gilbert let out a shuddering sigh before leaning back down to kiss Matthew's forehead, who in turn let out a pleased little hum that made the Prussian smile against his skin. He felt fingertips ghost over his shoulders and his back, as if testing the waters, and to encourage them Gilbert kissed lower, softly brushing their lips together.
Although he was sure to be slow and gentle, Gilbert had a sneaking suspicion the Canadian liked it a little rough. Which he found more than amusing. He felt hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, and smiled softly when Matthew clung onto him and buried his face in the crook of his neck.
It always happened like this. Gilbert wondered sometimes if he was going soft. He softly ran his fingers through the blonde's hair, making him tighten his hold on the fabric. Gilbert couldn't even really remember when this started happening. While Matthew shook and shivered in his arms, the ex-nation thought back to when France had paraded the little boy around, showing off 'his little Canada.' Gilbert had to admit, he had no pressing urge to sleep with the little boy when he grew older, so what was this about?
A tiny, miniscule whimper slipped out from between Matthew's lips, and Gilbert decided, maybe it was little things like those tiny noises. He pried the boy away from him just to shower him in kisses along his neck and shoulders.
He could remember when he was grand and big and everyone knew his name – when he was the mighty Prussian Empire. Sometimes, even if he had the blonde in his arms, he couldn't help but feel sour about having lost that status. To take his frustrations out, he would pour all sorts of affection onto Matthew, which left the both of them feeling considerably better.
The point was, he could remember when he wasn't satisfied unless he was slaughtering by the hundreds. Now, all it took was a tiny, barely audible noise from Canada? Canada, who no one even took the time to remember. Canada, who was probably the biggest pushover Gilbert had ever laid eyes on. Canada, who at times looked more feminine than anything else, who stuttered in his quiet, soft-spoken words, who was practically France's kid.
He asked himself who he had turned into, where he had went wrong, when he heard a faint, quiet moan from Matthew. When he looked down he was greeted by flushing cheeks and half-lidded eyes, and the Canadian's hips squirming from side to side, dying for more attention.
Slowly, a smirk crawled upon Gilbert's face, and he decided that it was this boy's fault. That was more of a mastermind than people gave him credit for. It was all a façade, what sweet little Canada had worked up. The real Matthew was here, clawing at Gilbert's arms and tightly pressing himself against the Prussian, anything to get attention.
Gilbert felt his find-frame shatter. He tangled his fingers into the blond locks, pressing a kiss to the boy's lips. "Kid," he murmured, and Matthew felt the words more than he heard them. "Just what're you doing to me?"