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mistressandcoffee · 13 years ago

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Marking (AmeCan, ACtalia)

Keeping up with the good habits, here comes more drabbles for Panoramicc's awesome Asscreed Hetalia Au, in which Matthew is a Templar and Alfred is an Assassin, and how their relationship grows more and more convoluted and passionate, and darker and desperate. I love AC so I like this Au a lot (I don't think I'll ever stop writing little things about Pan's world XD)

This happens perhaps a year or so after the events of Healing (in which Matthew wounded Alfred and nursed him back to health) and other major events in their life, which are of course spoilers. If you don't care about them and want to read more delicious angst and these two men getting closer to the point of no return you are welcome :3 But a friendly warning: it contains blood, violence and themes that should be treated with discretion.

Marking

"You are possessed Alfred! Stop it. Let go of me!" Matthew screamed Altered greatly by how things had turned out. They had been fighting -having accidentally encountered each other again- on a bridge in Venice when suddenly a part had fallen and the both ended up in the river. It had been an embarrassing affair -his clothes were not optimal for swimming- and he had owed his life to Alfred who, somehow, had managed them both to a shore. It had been by sheer luck that they, half drowned, had found some abandoned shed to pass the night.

Or so he had thought. The recent actions screamed nothing else but suspicion and, as Alfred shoved him to the ground, he realized with apprehension he had swum into a trap. The shed had been too tidy, the wooden floor and walls well oiled and without a sign of decay, the sparse furniture hadn't been covered with cloth, and it smelled too fresh for just being abandoned. He had noticed the existence of an oil lamp too late. He had been too bothered in trying not to watch Alfred' naked body, and fighting the strange feeling of gratitude towards an Assassin to notice Alfred Approaching with a dagger until it was too late.

Thanks to their previous encounters Matthew was certain their strengths were not equal, Alfred probably due to having to climb building to do his foul assassinations was stronger, and Matthew had learned to rely on his speed to defeat him, or fight him to stand still. So he knew the only way to push away the man currently on top of him was to play as dirty as the opportunity presented itself until he could get hold of his sword and fight on even grounds.

"I don't think so Mattie" the Assassin said, voice heavy and cutting, as if he had been drunk on a good wine. Blue eyes flashing dangerously, as the light reflected on the knife "If I am possessed then it would be by desire, and I am not enough of a fool to let you go when you are on my arms again!"

For the first time since he knew Alfred he was afraid, and he was ashamed of such cowardice. It was entirely his fault that he was in a trap, just how did he think stripping before this obsessed man was a good idea? Matthew was well aware of the Assassin's desires (and was well aware of his own, adulterous and sinful longing for the man in front of him)no matter how grateful he had been, or the fact he he now owed his life to the Assassin. He knew better than to strip himself nude.

He was afraid of what the man on top of him would do. He had a good idea of what he wanted, but the knife was out of place, and that unnerved him greatly, adding more and more blood to what could come if he wasn't fast enough to grab the safety of his sword. Was this perhaps some greatly elaborated ruse just to exact revenge for almost killing him earlier? Matthew frowned, even as he kicked the tan man on the gut, turning around and scurrying away to his sword. If that was the reason for such actions Alfred would have done so earlier, not now.

"I had clearly told you that day I wanted nothing of this" he spat, body tensing before kicking the Englishman on the gut, taking the momentum to push the other away and scurry to grab his sword, only to fall down when the blue eyed man tugged heartily on his heel. He only had time to put his hand before him, trying to keep his face from damage as he slammed onto the floor, Alfred making a swift work on immobilizing him, a shirt binding his wrist, a broad hand on his shoulder, and his weight putting him in place.

Matthew had never truly thought how different their bodies were until that night on Alfred's sick bed, and now, with the warm naked body pressed flush against his back, a hand on his scalp pushing him more and more against the cool wooden floor, the treacherous feeling of wanted to be caged came back in full force "Yes I remember our little conversation very well" was the mocking answer followed by lips brushing his neck lightly, he tried to move away from that burning caress, but the body above him wouldn't budge. "I wonder if you remember it too" and without further ado he was turned around, face to face with Alfred. Matthew had no chance of rebutting the question for the knife was placed on his chest as a clear warning: Alfred was now in control and there was nothing he could do.

Matthew shouldn't have found it pleasurable, but he did, and groaning into the hard kiss he hated himself for how twisted he had become. Alfred smiled at the breakthrough and let the knife warm on Matthew's skin a few more moments before ending the kiss, blue eyes joyous and demented with love and possession.

"That's good Mattie, relax" he whispered lovingly, feeling the body tense on the knife's travel. "I will never hurt you. but I need you to relax" and with that he sank lower, kissing his love sleeping member, relishing on the restrained shake before moving to his inner thigh, caressing the skin lightly before kissing it reverently once, twice and then letting the knife touch it. Matthew tensed immediately "No Alfred, stop-"

"It is necessary Mattie, now relax, I don't want to hurt you" he commanded again, confused as to why Matthew still believed he would do something foul. He would never raise a blade to harm Matthew, would never tighten his embrace just so and kill him. Matthew doubted, and it only gave more reasons to Alfred to just get on and over with it.

After this you will have no doubts about us. Alfred this you won't be able to deny us anymore. You will have no other option but accept you love me as well.

The first cut was the powerful whip of desire. The cutting attraction that trapped them. The sizzle of the friction between two worlds that haunted him ever since they saw each other that night on the tangy bar of Venice. The one that fueled their encounters, the one that had robbed them of all sanity that afternoon in an alley, only to remember the sin they had committed over and over again until want overrode all morals and left them wanting and hating themselves for such want.

The second cut was the mark of anguish and desperation, the certain sword that butchered his heart and soul upon finding out and regaining the memories of that night on his sick bed. Of remembering the feeling of Matthew's naked body between his arms, between his legs, pliant and desirous, just to lose him to a noblewoman. A noblewoman who, he hated to admit, was everything he was not, and would never be: had an amiable air, and an irreproachable conduct and reputation, a true lady. He could grudgingly see that, hadn't their destinies found each other, she would have been the perfect one for Matthew. It only hurt more to remember their heated encounter on the church, moments away from Matthew's marriage. Of the perverse and dangerous kiss on that church. Of the black promise sealed with a stolen kiss that he was now carrying out.

The third cut was for Matthew, because now he couldn't be in denial anymore. No armor to protect him, no upbringing that could hide and make pretense of not feeling them, of not caring who Alfred kissed, of not minding sleeping with his wife, of marrying her instead of running away with Alfred. He wouldn't be able to deny their attraction, to deny their relationship, to deny him - not after this, with the mark on such an intimate place. Matthew's widening eyes -even while clouded with pain and indignation, and still dry but with growing panic- gave Alfred all what he needed to know.

"Are you realizing now Matthew? I never sought to kill you" the Assassin whispered wickedly, feeling oddly powerful and glad, as the blood flowed freely from the cuts and stained the skin red, the mark almost complete. "I just want you to understand that you are mine. Not hers." touching his now bloodied knife against the sensitive skin , feeling the slight twitch and the muscles tensing in dreaded anticipation "Have you impregnated her already babe? I had told you, you'd better breed with her, have you seed on someone else before I robbed you of all desire."

Before the Templar could trash wildly in an attempt to break free -or to get himself killed Alfred didn't know - not that he cared, he immobilized the trashing quickly, using his strength to push the limbs to the ground, using a leg to pin a naked thigh to the ground, and using his weight as a leverage to hold the Frenchman still, and with a primal and savage smile he did the fourth and final cut.

"This one is for us Mattie" he said admiring his bleeding work He could have done a short two-cut Assassin's mark, but Alfred didn't feel that generous, his pain too raw, his heart and feelings too tumultuous and intense to be just represented in two clean cuts. Their relationship was much more than just an Assassin and a Templar, it couldn't deserve any less "for you and me" It was the mark of their love, how forbidden, heretic and daring it was like the Assassin's mark branding a Templar on his groin.

the silence that followed was stagnant, until Matthew seemed to regain his strength, violet eyes flashing in defiance and snarled "I'm going to destroy you" before pushing Alfred down, anger and shame fueling his strength. Taking the knife that now rested on the floor and aiming for a clean cut at his enemy's throat.

"No, you aren't going to do that. You are going to rest now-" he began dodging the strike easily, taking the wrist, not paying attention to the indignant "Don't touch me!", and continued "-and let me take care of the mark" at those words the Templar stopped, violet eyes widening in understanding, and Alfred felt smug.

So his Mattie was finally knowing what life with their mark would mean? If it hadn't been for the knife reflecting the light of the lamp he wouldn't have seen the knife moving until it was too late. As it was though, he acted on basic instinct preventing Matthew from stabbing himself on the stomach. His hold grew tighter until he Matthew dropped the knife but even then he continued in order to subdue the sudden suicidal trashing.

"Oh no, Mattie you won't! Stop it-" he had to immobilize the other against a wall of the shed, wrist on a unmovable hold over his shaking head, a hand under the nobleman's chin, his body pressed flush against Matthew, else Matthew would try to hurt himself. For the life of himself Alfred couldn't fathom such a reaction, or the cause of it. Was this so dismal to Matthew that he had tried- 'No Alfred, don't even finish that sentence. Matthew is just confused, afraid' "Mattie. Look at me! this is us, is it such an horrible fate?"

The Templar fought the hand on his chin, and even then, when they were face to face his eyes strayed away from him. Alfred had no doubt of the answer, and found his resolve faltering. But then he remembered their history, he remembered that room in one of the Assassin's hideouts in Venice, of his promise on the church, and found strength to rationalize with the borderline hysterical man. "It is not Mattie, You know it, I know it. Believe in me"

That seemed to elicit some reaction, Matthew's face had wiped around, curly bond hair whipping his face the same way his pained voice did."How?! You marked me! You did this to me!"

"I believed in you, even after you almost killed me"

"Those are two entirely different-"

"No they are't. Even if I was delirious, part of me knew I could still trust you to sleep in my arms. I knew you wouldn't kill or try to hurt me" Alfred confessed, voice earnest, foreheads touching, and for the first time, those violet eyes didn't stray away from him.

"It hurts now, but it will be beautiful Mattie"

"Turn around" Matthew said quietly, violet eyes dark.

Alfred snorted "I don't think I will, give my back to-"

"Turn around Alfred." Matthew hadn't raised his voice, but the authority carried on those words was unquestionable. For some bizarre moment Alfred felt as if he was in front of his father and not Matthew, it made him wince. No wonder Matthew had led many Templar missions, he was shaping up to be a great leader, he would probably have his own division soon if-

If it wasn't for his mark. Alfred paused at that detail, and nodded before giving his back to Matthew. The noble probably needed some time to himself. He had their weapons, so it wasn't as if Matthew could attempt against his life again.

He trusted Matthew to not run away - and well, even if he tried to escape he would probably lose consciousness soon due to the undressed mark. He had never expected to hear sobs which is why, when he heard the soft and contained sound he thought of a small animal. But once the sounds kept repeating themselves there was no doubt, and Alfred couldn't help his heart from breaking, each sob piercing it, each unseen tear chastising his soul, his feelings until he couldn't stand it anymore, and with three long strides he took the Templar's mar, turned he around, and hugged him.

He couldn't say he was sorry. He didn't regret marking Matthew, never would, in his mind and in his heart he knew it was due time drastic actions such as these happened, and he has warned Matthew that day on the church. No, his heart was breaking because he knew the true reason of those tears, it was those repressed feelings, the dam had broken, and there was no way to put it back. Not with the assassin's mark on his skin.

"You-" Matthew began, and to his credit, his voice didn't sound broken, just perhaps a bit on the low, even if his tears wet Alfred's shoulder, and his body trembled "this, it has ruined me" at the silent confession the assassin could do nothing else but Kiss the crown of Matthew's head, inhaling the fresh scent, the tears and the blood: the scent of their love. He sighed, trying to not let his own tears fall.

"Not only you, love." he said against his head, hold growing tighter, a hand rubbing his back in calming strokes. 'You aren't the only one ruined by this.' he thought resignedly 'I had to burn my bed because your scent haunted me, I could never lay on my alcove because the memories are still fresh on my mind. I cannot lay with women because my arms only want you in them. Have you know how much I cried when you denied me? How many Templar men I killed when I heard the news you were going to marry?! Such a wrong and forbidden feeling ties us both, don't ever think you are the only one suffering Matthew.' "It will get better." he continued confidence on each word, and finally, Matthew gave up and hugged him back fiercely.

He could feel their bodies touching, he could feel them answering to each inquisitive touch, even as he dressed the mark. But this was not how he had imagined taking Matthew, so he didn't do much else but hug the Frenchman and kiss him to sleep.

/do you know how horrible it feels writing all of the above while listening to this? A lot. Talk about inappropriate music.

#APH:America #APH:Canada #Mistress fics #actalia #Pan said they would have a happy ending #so I am writing all the tragedy and Angst I can #:)#let's see how Pan can manage that XD

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