5 times Arthur walked in on Matthew— it seems i’m too hip to keep tight-lipped
“Matthew! How dare you bring an American into my house?” Arthur glared at the pair on the bed.
Alfred, dryly, still blindfolded, tilted his head, “Hi to you too Arthur.”
Matthew, absently wiping his mouth, frowned, “It’s been decades. Are you still enforcing that stupid rul—“
“As long as you are under my roof, you will not have any sort of relations with the United States of America.” Arthur shook his head. “And you could’ve had the decency to at least go to a hotel. Or, gag him.”
“Hey! Matthew likes it when I make noise.”
“You’re the one who wants me to be more fiscally responsible.” Matthew sulked, tracing loops on the inside of Alfred’s thigh. “And my Boss is actually monitoring my bank account and—“
Arthur made a frustrated noise and pulled out his pocketbook. “Will fifty pounds cover it?”
“I am worth more than that!”
“…We could go to France?”
“I am not paying for you to go have sexcapades across the globe—“
“Do you really want to know that I’m banging Alfred in your precious capital?”
Within twenty minutes, Arthur had bought two economy tickets to Paris, bundled up the boys, and kicked them out of his house.
“…Good heavens, Matthew. Don’t you have paperwork?”
“I did but then the Australian Prime Minister arrived early. And I rarely see Jack.”
“Doesn’t anyone knock?” Jack muttered, hiding his face in the crook of Matthew’s neck. “I thought you locked the door.”
Matthew just smiled sweetly at Arthur until the Englishman slowly backed out of the room.
Both his boys had certainly grown.
“Matthew, have you seen my…oh bloody fu—“ Arthur trailed into mangled syllables, covering his eyes and almost backing into the doorframe.
Belle laughed, idly pulling up her black lace bra over the swell of her breasts. “Hi, Arthur.”
Matthew, at least, was blushing. He probably would have covered his face if his wrists weren’t bound to the headboard.
“Will you be staying for dinner?” Arthur asked, voice a tad too high.
“Are you cooking?”
“Well I just put a roast in the—“
“I don’t think we’ll make it.” Belle interrupted smoothly. There was a creak from the bed and Arthur quickly turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.
“Okay. Now this is getting out of hand.” Arthur signed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I didn’t think you’d approve.” Matthew looked embarrassed, pink high on his cheeks.
“…I’m just appalled at your taste.” His former guardian sighed.
“Still here.” Gilbert announced, shaking his hands as though to cement his presence in the room.
“Unfortunately.” Arthur retorted, lip curling. “Be sure to burn those sheets, Matthew.”
“Matthew, do you know where—“ Arthur froze, blinking.
Matthew swore in choked off French, turning his face into the pillow. He smacked the mattress. Then he raised his head, glaring, face red and hair smeared across his cheeks. “I put a sign on the door, Arthur!”
But Arthur seemed to be too busy staring at Alistair…and the fact that he was currently balls-deep in Matthew. He might also have been crying. Or it could’ve been blood.
“Hush now.” Alistair kissed his shoulder, still catching his breath. His rough brogue brought another rush of red to Matthew’s face. “He’s slow. Try using smaller words, next time. Maybe pictures?”
“I thought you locked the door.” Matthew elbowed Alistair when he tried to pull out. He elbowed him again when the Scot wrapped one arm around his waist and tried to stroke his dick.
“Nah.” Alistair shrugged.
“…What do you mean?”
“I just didn’t.”
“Did you want him to walk in?”
“…I thought it would be funny.”