A/N: The end. I may do fic #3 next, or #6.

Chapter 3

Ludwig obeyed traffic regulations whenever he drove. Gilbert didn't. The drive to the meeting had taken 15 hours. He pulled up to the Beilschmidt Estate ten hours after speeding away from the meeting, with his things and Matthew's thrown haphazardly into the back seat. Dieter rushed out to meet them, and dipped his chin deferentially when introduced to Matthew.

"It is eight on the dot, Herr Beilschmidt," Dieter proclaimed formally. "Dinner is served. Herr Williams will be joining you, of course?"

In answer, Gilbert tossed him Matthew's valise, which the older man fumbled, but managed to hang on to. "Herr Williams will be staying the night at the very least, in my wing of the house. Have Frau Alke send up spiced wine, along with dinner." He threw his own valise to Dieter as well. He led Matthew up the steps and into the foyer.

Matthew gave a cursory glance to his surroundings as he followed Gilbert upstairs and through carpeted halls, but his attention was primarily on his host. No sooner had Gilbert gotten behind the wheel of his brother's car than a new disposition seemed to burst from him. Gilbert had laughed, and joked, and spoken with great animation. Matthew could find very little trace, if any, of the man who'd admitted to him in a whisper how terrifying he found his current life to be. "You seem different today," he'd said to Gilbert during the drive.

Gilbert had taken his eyes off the road for several heady seconds to give him a long, pointed look. "Must be the company." He'd then given a slow smile of appreciation while raking him from head to toe.

Matthew had needed to look away lest his obvious pleasure seem vulgar.

The mood had remained throughout the drive through the countryside. Even now, being led to several rooms in the eastern wing of the large estate, Matthew listened with bemusement to how Gilbert was ready to offer him whichever room he chose.

"This room here hasn't been used in ages, but it has a fireplace, if you chill easily," Gilbert was saying. "The room down the hall has a small bathroom off the sitting area, and the room we just left-"

"I rather liked your room," Matthew interrupted quietly. "I wouldn't mind seeing it again." He faced the older man frankly.

Gilbert caught and held the look. The silent connotations pleased him enormously, if his grin was any indication. "My room it is then. Should I have Dieter put your things there as well?"

"I think that would be best, yes."

Dieter put Matthew's valise in the corner of Gilbert sitting room, before setting the small table that sat before the balcony doors. Frau Alke bustled in with dinner and arranged the dishes on the table. She uncovered the main dish.

Gilbert was both pleased and surprised to see that they were having beef rouladen. "What's the occasion?" he asked, going to dip his finger in the gravy. "West would shit if he knew there'd been rouladen while he was away."

Dieter smiled from his place of attention by the door. "Herr Ludwig called several hours ago. He mentioned that his car was missing and that you had been spotted leaving the meeting in it with a guest. He requested, on the off chance that you'd be coming here, that a suitable dinner be prepared. He said that he and the rest would catch the railroad home in some days' time."

Gilbert paused mid-suck on his index finger to look at Dieter. Just like West. Interfering bastard, but sometimes it was a good thing. In this case, his brother had seen him with someone for the first time in years and strove to facilitate a favorable outcome.

Sometimes he loved his brother too much to express.

However. "Did he seem pissed about the car?"

Dieter mentally shook his head at the anticipatory gleam in those red eyes. "I believe mention was made of removing your head from your shoulders and ripping the eyes and tongue out, once he returned and your guest had departed."

"Good ole West!" Gilbert laughed. "Always making promises he can't keep."

The door was shut quietly as Frau Alke and her husband left. Matthew had understood just enough of the fluent German to be left smiling slightly at the relationship Gilbert seemed to enjoy with his brother.

Gilbert suddenly remembered manners he didn't actually have. Matthew seemed like the kind of person who felt comfortable with etiquette and other such related shit; he hastened to awkwardly pull out one of the chairs for the blond to sit in. Matthew laughed outright, a gentle sound, but sat amiably. Gilbert tried to shove the chair in, was unable to, and ended up lifting it with Matthew in it to set it closer to the table. "What?" he asked when he'd sat in his own chair.

"That gesture is commonly made to women."

"Oh." He reached for a pumpernickel roll, broke it, and swiped half of it in the rouladen gravy. He stuffed this into his mouth. "If you're offended…"

"Not at all." Matthew studied the potato dumplings and red cabbage accompanying the rolled beef. He speared a dumpling with his fork. "I rather thought you were inclined otherwise," he said diffidently. He was wary of speaking so directly, but felt it had to be said sooner or later.

"As Feliciano likes to put it, 'Sexuality is fluid.' Me, I say lust and love know no gender. Wine?"

Already blushing at the use of the word sexuality, Matthew nodded. He waited until Gilbert poured. "I agree with the concept, but have never felt inclined to any gender but my own."

Gilbert bobbed his head while chewing extravagantly. Matthew, invited by the interested red gaze, proceeded to open up about a number of things he normally kept private. Things that hadn't been discussed in the maze. The food was excellent, if a bit heavy, and the rich wine flowed freely. Gilbert, though an enthusiastic yet coarse host, nonetheless showed that his quiet side did not completely depart when he was excited. He showed himself capable of listening with unswerving attention for long periods of time. Matthew, given such an audience for the second day in a row, displayed quite a bit to say.

"It's as if he doesn't see what an ass he is," he said later with some heat. Gilbert handed him a huge slice of black forest cake. "He thinks he can dictate how every other nation behaves, govern their actions, and yet his own country is a mess. He sanctions actions from certain countries, while condemning others for doing the same things, and he's been doing it for years. He's a liar. He's corrupt, and power-hungry, and has no concept of discipline. Wasteful. Squandering men and resources recklessly. And his debt! But you don't want to hear about my brother all evening. He's not a pleasant topic for conversation." He concentrated on finishing his cake.

The violet eyes were troubled. A small frown worried the flesh between the fine brows. Seeing this, Gilbert was silent. Then he suddenly stood and held out his hand. "Come. The wind will invigorate you and blow your troubles away."

Matthew found the whimsical statement and gesture endearing from such a rough man. Placing his hand in the larger one, he let himself be led to the balcony.

It was an uncommon evening for both of them. The shared confidences, the hand-holding, the clear effort on Gilbert's part to put his best foot forward…all these things worked together to weave an atmosphere laden with promise around the two men.

Gilbert brought the spread from his bed to the balcony, along with pillows, and set these up for them to sit on. The wind was indeed sharp, but neither of them felt uncomfortable. Matthew did not comment on the meaning of the reddish gold spread and pillows, but sat gamely and continued speaking to Gilbert, or listened when the other had something to say.

Throughout dinner, there had been a few silences wherein their eyes had met and held before looking away. These glances had flavored the evening as much as the setting and conversation had, until each man had been quietly aware of a mutual attraction. This had not hindered them, but rather guided them through certain roles inadvertently set in place by the incident with the chair; Gilbert was pursuing him, and Matthew knew he was being pursued. And Gilbert knew that Matthew knew.

Now, on the balcony, they reclined side by side, not touching, but divulging things long buried deep within themselves. The night was spent talking, occasionally laughing, and sharing similar stories of neglect and frustration. A more intense conversation than what had taken place in the maze the previous day. A fresh bottle of wine had been brought out with the blanket, and this flowed between them quite as easily as their mounting attraction and desire. The silences were more frequent, became longer, and the stares were enough to shorten their breath.

Eventually, they stretched out on the blanket. Conversation continued intermittently between them, though there were yawns now to show their fatigue. Matthew drifted off first, having been awake since the previous night, and Gilbert followed soon after.

-oOo-

The clouds that had been present all day released a small smattering of rain a few miles from the estate. They roiled and billowed, producing one of the thunderstorms that sometimes sprang up at this time of the year. There was no precipitation other than those few drops, but the sound was enormous. It shook the entire estate as it rumbled past, pushed by the strong winds blowing over that section of the countryside.

Matthew woke with a start, and bumped into Gilbert, who sat up more slowly. Extreme weather conditions did not bother the Prussian. He cocked an eye at the sky, sniffed the air, then dismissed it all to turn toward the man at his side.

"A storm?" Matthew queried. His hair blew about wildly. He drew a corner of the blanket over his legs.

"Nah, probably gone by now. We'll get some wind for a bit, then it'll be bright skies tomorrow, you wait and see."

Matthew looked at him, then looked down. Their arms were touching. Neither of them moved away immediately. When he raised his eyes to Gilbert's questioningly, it was to find the older man leaning toward him.

The kiss was brief, a simple touching of their mouths, but electrifying. Gilbert's firm lips pressed against Matthew's for several seconds before the latter pulled away with a soft gasp.

Gilbert grinned. "Are you afraid?" he asked in a smooth voice, one that was deepened by his excitement.

"N-no." Matthew cleared his throat. "No."

Gilbert studied the wide eyes a moment, then looked aside with a frown. "It's been awhile. I'm used to running with Fagcis and Ass-tonio… Francis and Antonio, sorry, and we always just went after whomever we wanted. Not to mention that Prussians weren't known for tender courtship rituals. You seemed agreeable to the idea…" He ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

Matthew, breathing still shot from the kiss, hastened to smooth things over. "I am agreeable. It's just…it caught me by surprise, is all."

Gilbert cocked his head, a sudden smirk curving the corners of his mouth. "You'd prefer a warning next time?"

"I-"

"Prussia used to be at war so much that we fucked right there on the battlefield, did you know that?

Startled, Matthew shook his head. "No, I can't say that I did."

Gilbert's smile broadened. "Sometimes we spiced things up with a hunt, but yeah. Flowery words of love were never the strong point of my country. That's Francis's deal."

Matthew wondered how to respond. Had he not reacted as he had, he might now be enjoying another kiss. He seemed to have killed the mood with his naiveté, and regretted it bitterly. In an effort to steer things in the right direction again, he said, "Tell me about the hunting, if you don't mind."

It seemed Gilbert didn't. He reclined on an elbow and laced his fingers over his stomach. He stared through the wrought iron bars of the balcony to the darkened grounds of the estate below. "Back when I was at the height of my power, Prussians found lovers much the same way animals did; based on the need to fuck. They chose a partner they found appealing, and went after them. We were at war more often than not, so a lot of the time the fucking took place right there among the clashing swords, or firing guns and cannon. Tempers, desires, all emotions were high from battle, you know? It was a common thing, fucking during a skirmish. In times of peace, Prussians missed the thrill of the fight, and sometimes elected to hunt their desired mates in order to quicken the blood. Sometimes hunting took place on the battlefield too. Not a few of those conflicts were settled by an intrepid Prussian hunting the general of the opposing army. It was said, but never proven, that some of the wars we fought were deliberately thrown in our favor for the simple opportunity to be hunted by a Prussian."

Matthew studied the boldly masculine profile, captivated. He waited for more, but Gilbert only stared pensively at the night, perhaps thinking of his past. It was on the tip of Matthew's tongue to ask Gilbert for more details, when the older man surprised him.

Gilbert slowly turned his head and sent a penetrating glance his way. He said quietly, almost casually, "May I hunt you?"

Matthew blinked. There was a half smile of confusion and disbelief frozen on his features. The question, while related to the previous topic, nevertheless seemed to come from nowhere, and be connected to nothing. The red eyes were no less penetrating. They were steady, and very intent. Replaying the question, and more importantly, the tone of voice Gilbert had used, Matthew swallowed nervously. "I-I don't understand. Here? Now? You're offering to literally chase me?"

"It's a bit more than simply chasing," Gilbert clarified. "You must agree to do your best to evade me, just as I will hunt you with every intention of capturing you. It's not a game. By agreeing to be hunted, you also agree to submit once caught. Completely, without reservation whatsoever, you will submit to me when I catch you, and acknowledge that I am your captor."

"What if you don't catch me? What if you give up from exhaustion, or-"

Gilbert made a small sound of dismissal with his tongue. "I repeat, this isn't a children's game of tag. The one hunting hunts until he catches his prey, or else drops dead trying. Simple as that."

Matthew stared. If that was the case, then the simple question of 'May I hunt you?' became not so simple. What Gilbert had really asked was, 'Will you give me power over you? Will you defer to me? Will you acknowledge me as your conqueror?' It dawned on Matthew that the hunts themselves had a foregone conclusion then, in which case if he answered yes to the question, it would be yielding in a way he never had before, with anyone.

No wonder conflicts had been settled after a hunt.

Seeing the hesitation, Gilbert asked again. "May I hunt you, Matthew Williams?"

Matthew felt his pulse begin to throb. He suddenly felt overly warm despite the howling wind, as his blood raced through his veins. The question was a formality, he realized; he was already being hunted by that direct red gaze. Something primitive twisted to life inside him. An answering need to be pursued and caught. He wet his lips. "Yes."

Gilbert waited.

Realizing that the hunt was officially afoot, Matthew belatedly scrambled to his feet and ran inside. The sheer curtains at the balcony's French doors fluttered violently at his passage, then were still.

-oOo-

Gilbert chuckled soundlessly, senses fully awake and alive after decades of soul-numbing boredom and ennui. His depression hadn't asserted itself since laying eyes on Matthew across a long table. He didn't think it was likely to return as long as the man was around. He felt good. Better than good, he felt vital once more.

He gave his prey five minutes. Then he got purposely to his feet. His smile died away as his baser nature took over.

The halls and doors were like another maze to Matthew, who at first could not imagine running through someone's house at such an inappropriate hour. There were bound to be people sleeping, people who didn't want to be disturbed. But then he heard the sound of unhurried pursuit, and remembered Gilbert saying that the estate was empty but for themselves and the help. He broke into a jog.

The idea that the resolution of this hunt would be him submitting to Gilbert sexually was both titillating and scandalous, two things he distinctly remembered being prominent in most of Francis's conversations about his friends. For his part, Matthew could not remember ever taking part in such a crude activity, but he couldn't deny that he was excited as he'd never been before about sex. The prospect of succumbing willingly, of being subdued unwillingly through this hunt, had him struggling to run with a hard erection straining his trousers. Not an easy thing to do.

A low laugh behind him. The footsteps chasing him accelerated just the faintest bit.

A wrong turn led him to a door, which opened to stairs, with led him up to a small landing that opened onto the roof. No good. He doubled back, and turned a second corner on the third floor as Gilbert was closing in. He had a brief glimpse of the whitish hair and a predatory smile, before he found himself tripping down a dark, narrow staircase no doubt used by the servants. This took him to the first floor.

There was a closed door to his left as soon as he exited the stairway. He put his hand on the knob, about to enter.

"Dieter, mein lieb! Ich kommen!"

Wrong door. There were footsteps on the stairway behind him now, slow and deliberate, and assured of success. Matthew found a determination to win mixed with his arousal and desire to be caught, and spun in search of escape.

Hall, sitting room, den, hall again, ball room, wash room, another hall, kitchen…a door.

Gilbert appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Matthew was rounding the large wooden table. The Prussian jumped right up onto the table in an incredible display of agility. A startled cry of fright and shock left Matthew as he clawed at the bolt locking the door. Gilbert jumped down, lunged at him, and the bolt slid free. Matthew slipped outside the door as a hand closed on his arm. His sleeve tore at the shoulder seam, but he was free. He was free and running full tilt around the back end of the house, aiming for the open acres of the estate.

-oOo-

The wind blew a swirling eddy of autumn leaves around him as he dug in and pumped his arms. He was not an athletically inclined individual, nor was he competitive, hence his abstinence from sports through much of his life. His dress pants were not conducive to running, and he wasn't familiar with the estate grounds. These things all conspired against him; he was out of breath and in pain ten minutes into the chase. Worse, he only barely saved himself from running into the dark water of the lake. He swerved at the last minute and came face to face with Gilbert running in a swift, even stride, arms moving smoothly, and closing in on him.

He couldn't help it. He screamed.

Still, he was no quitter. He turned and ran blindly in an effort to put distance between himself and Gilbert.

Looking back on it, he supposed he was destined to fail. Quite apart from his secret desire to be caught, he'd simply never been called upon to do anything so strenuous as run for his life. He slipped and slid in the grass, fell, lost a shoe when his foot caught in a rabbit hole, lost his glasses when he tripped over a tree root, and ripped his pants horribly when he somehow ran into a bush. And all the while he could hear the steady rhythm of Gilbert's running footsteps and timed breathing. He himself was wheezing loud enough to be heard a mile away, and had a stitch that kept his hand pressed to his side.

He came to an apple orchard.

By now he was lurching along, weaving drunkenly from side to side, but pressing on anyway. He risked a glance behind himself, sure that Gilbert was right on top of him by now.

The Prussian was nowhere in sight.

-oOo-

Matthew stopped running to lean against a tree and couldn't stop his sigh of relief. When he could manage it, he looked around carefully, squinting at all the shadows in his vicinity. He neither saw, nor heard anything, though he turned in a complete circle. Not bothering to analyze this miracle (and blissfully ignorant of hunting tactics), he leaned against his tree once more, and breathed deeply several times. His heartbeat slowly calmed from its mad patter.

He was sweating, he realized. In lifting his arm to wipe the moisture from his brow, he saw his right sleeve completely gone, and his arm bare. A glance down the front of his body showed him to be a sorry sight indeed. A more bedraggled creature he'd never come across. He chuckled wryly at the picture he presented.

A breeze blew then. He lifted his face to let it cool his cheeks and found Gilbert standing no more than a yard away.

Running was pointless, but he ran anyway. He was soon caught, managed to free himself briefly, ran no more than a dozen feet, and was finally tackled to the ground. They rolled painfully over a few fallen apples, before coming to rest against one of the trees. At this collision, the bole of the tree shuddered and more fruit fell on them.

This was full, brazen physical contact, something Matthew yielded to at once despite the chase he'd led the older man. Gilbert's arms had come around him as they rolled and Matthew was forcibly made aware of how stunningly powerful Gilbert was; Gilbert had taken a moment to get his bearings, but he stood up now and carried Matthew easily a short distance to a small, wooden gazebo. Once there, he set him on his feet and stood back to strip.

-oOo-

Matthew was, quite simply, agog. His eyes bulged at seeing Gilbert disrobe outdoors, of all places, instead of in the privacy of his bedroom, as was proper. Then the thought that he would be expected to shed his clothing as well hit him, followed by the knowledge of what they would be doing outside, and his hand went to his mouth.

But then Gilbert dropped his shorts.

The peek Matthew had of a long, heavy, swinging thing was brief. Gilbert walked right up to him, grabbed his hair, and tugged him into a tight, confining embrace. He gazed down sternly into the frightened violet eyes. "Have you been caught unfairly?" he asked in a gruff voice.

The words had the sound of a ritual to Matthew's ears. The hand was painful in his hair, but he hastened to reply lest it tighten further. "N-no."

"Were you pursued by unfair means?"

"No."

"Then I, Gilbert Beilschmidt of Prussia, lay claim to you, Matthew Williams of Canada." Gilbert waited.

Matthew blinked in confusion, his eyes beginning to water from the grip in his hair…and then understanding came. He wet his lips. "I-I Matthew Williams of Canada, submit to you, Gilbert Beilschmidt of Prussia."

Gilbert gave the tiniest nod of approval. An equally minute smile softened his expression. The hand he had in Matthew's hair loosened and smoothed over the blond strands, before pulling the younger man's head firmly inward.

The man can kiss, Matthew thought fleetingly. A welcome surprise, given the primitiveness of the hunt and Gilbert's towering aggression. He yielded to it willingly, his hands going to the back of Gilbert's neck to bring them closer together. He felt his shirt being unbuttoned and removed. His undershirt was ripped down the center of his back, and dropped aside. His pants were undone, unzipped, and pushed down his hips with his boxers, all while the kiss continued and deepened. He toed off his one remaining shoe, and stood in his socks and sock suspenders.

The wind was cold. Gilbert was hot.

More than that, he was a veritable furnace of heat. Matthew tried to touch as much of the hot flesh as he could with his own body, gasping sharply at the delicious feel of the scarred skin. He rubbed his face along Gilbert's wonderfully smooth, yet firm cheeks, rubbed his chest on Gilbert's, pulled the other man close so that their stomachs pressed against each other. Gilbert's cock hung heavily against the tops of Matthew's thighs, and this too was a source of heat. Matthew lowered a hand to heft it, and found that his hand was filled completely by the meaty circumference.

Gilbert made a sound low in his throat at feeling himself handled. He wanted to feel the tight walls of Matthew's body strangling his cock, but made himself wait. He pulled back from the kiss to ask, "Have you any stipulations?"

Matthew's eyes were hazy, his face slack and wanton with desire. His hand rhythmically closed and opened on Gilbert's hardness. "Such as?"

"Anything you won't allow."

Matthew's brow furrowed in slow thought. Unconsciously, he swayed forward, wanting that knowledgeable mouth on his again. "No…you may do whatever you wish with me. I'm yours."

Their eyes met for a moment. The statement had not been made lightly, no matter the distraction of desire sizzling between them, and Gilbert knew this. The look of humble awe in his red eyes suggested that more than a body was being given here. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. Thereafter, his touch held more deference, more deliberation; he was aware of the gift he was being given.

He took his time. The kisses he and Matthew shared were hot enough to burn. Their breath steamed in the air, yet neither were cold. A light sheen of passion-induced sweat coated them. Gilbert let his mouth travel all around Matthew's, around his lips, over his nose, across his cheeks, along his jaw, and round back to his neck. He had Matthew neatly turned around so that the smaller man's back was to his front. He kissed behind the blond's ears, then the back of his neck again, making his leisurely way down the man's spine. He left kisses at measured intervals, gradually kneeling and grasping the slim hips, until the twin mounds of Matthew's smooth ass presented itself. He let his thumbs run over the blemish-free skin appreciatively. "Bend over."

Matthew bent, putting his hands on one of the wooden benches built into the gazebo. He felt Gilbert's hand press against his inner thigh and obligingly widened his stance. He was just turning his head to see if Gilbert would dare to kiss him on his derriere when he felt a gust of warm breath, followed by a fiery tongue pass over his anus.

He yelped, tried to straighten, but felt a firm hand press his back forward again. The tongue was made flat and broad, before laving decisively over his pucker once more. Gilbert dipped his head lower, tonguing the pink nutsac hanging below the perineum and anus. He flicked this pouch of flesh with his tongue, making the back beneath his hand shudder slightly, before latching on to the vein running the short length of the perineum. He sucked strongly, making Matthew's back arch on a squeal, then dove in and fastened his mouth to the winking hole before his face. "Gilbert!" The back humped upward strongly, quivered beneath Gilbert's steadying hand, then relaxed into a shameless arch of pleasure. "Oooohhhh…" Matthew moaned.

Gilbert hummed richly on the flesh he was sucking, causing the other man to push backward in a quest for more. Satisfied now that Matthew would succumb to his ministrations, Gilbert moved his hand to grasp the flexing hips and hold them still. He opened his mouth wider.

Flaming tendrils of nerve-wracking pleasure zigzagged over Matthew's body. He threw his head back, breathless, knees weak, as the tongue made a quick foray inside him. It licked, swirled, pushed in farther, and then was withdrawn. He remembered Francis mentioning this forbidden delight at some point in the past, just as he remembered his own shocked reaction, but this… A deep grunt for more left him as he arched harder, pressing his ass toward that tantalizing mouth. Gilbert switched to teasing kisses around his begging hole, and Matthew grew frustrated enough to reach behind him and press Gilbert's face directly between his cheeks. He squeezed his ass cheeks on Gilbert's face, and pulled the gray head into himself harder, hanging on to a fistful of the sweaty hair. "Oh…yes…like that, just like that," he panted when Gilbert granted him the suction he wanted. "Don't…oh, don't stop… God!"

Gilbert held him spread wide open. He approved of Matthew's submission to pleasure. It meant there would be no hesitation, no hindrance to the heights either of them could reach together. He waited until Matthew's breath was ragged and uneven before sucking two fingers and slipping them past the well-lubricated ring of muscles. There was no resistance on Matthew's part, but the flesh was obviously not used to being probed. That would change, if Gilbert had anything to do with it. Matthew was his and would be probed often.

Matthew tolerated the intrusion admirably, even going so far as to allow three fingers. Gilbert eased these in and out slowly, twisting and curving them on occasion to prepare Matthew adequately to receive him. Matthew clamped down on the digits, released, squeezed again in active participation. When the muscles were relaxed and receptive, Gilbert leaned forward to kiss the trembling flesh of one butt cheek before grasping Matthew's thigh close to his face. He introduced a fourth finger. "Easy," he soothed at the low grunt of pain "It's necessary." He didn't linger, but saw to it that the hole he planned to fill with his need was suitably prepared. The shudders that wracked the slim body in response to his calloused fingers pushed him past his limits of control. His prey was ready and ripe for the plucking. Even so, he would sample all that Matthew had to offer.

He let Matthew straighten and turn around. This presented Gilbert with the swollen, turgid length of the man's weeping cock. Looking up at Matthew's face, he found the violet eyes dark and glazed. The cheeks were pink with passion and self-consciousness, but Matthew licked his lips of saliva. He thrust his hips slightly at Gilbert in silent invitation. After thumbing the slit several times to spread the moisture, and thus season the meat, Gilbert accepted.

The sounds, the guttural cries of enjoyment Matthew voiced at Gilbert sliding his mouth down the entire length of his cock were quite a surprise. To look at him, one would think the Canadian took his enjoyment with the same composure he displayed with everything else, but no. Matthew was that rare breed who was a gentleman of impeccable deportment and manners, but who nevertheless knew when and how to indulge his pleasure.

Gilbert felt himself skate dangerously close to his own climax at feeling the salty juices leak over his tongue. He had to close his eyes and just breathe a moment. He'd wanted to have the man down his throat from the moment they'd driven away from the meeting. He reached between his legs now to choke back his own heavy precum. He kept his fist clenched around his cock as he struck up his slow bobbing once more.

He loved cock. Gilbert had had his fair share of women, but he plain loved the firm, velvety feel of a man's cock in his mouth. He salivated profusely now, swallowed, and relished the way the large vein on the underside of Matthew's piece pulsed in response against his tongue. He let his teeth graze lightly as he drew back slowly, sucked the head hard for a moment, then eased back down. His free hand throttled the base of Matthew's cock, twisting and rubbing in counterpoint to his sucking. Matthew bucked into his mouth, sighed, grabbed Gilbert's his hair… all actions that Gilbert liked.

At length, he guided Matthew to sit in his lap facing him. He encouraged the pale, slender hands to settle around his own straining cock, and bit his lips as his young companion showed that he could do a competent job of giving pleasure as well as receiving it. Matthew used both hands in contradictory motions to twist and slide up the distended length of Gilbert's manhood. Sometimes he rolled the palm of his hand over the wet, bulbous head, only to lick his palm free of the clear fluid, and begin again. He was surprisingly unreserved about it, pumping furiously for several strokes before slowing down again. The wet fwapping sound was aided by the generous amounts of saliva Matthew used to ease the process. Gilbert was reduced to moaning in his own language and cursing in English, urging Matthew to go harder, and faster, and ever harder between his clenched teeth. Not even when he shot all over them both did he allow Matthew to stop, but urged the blond to torture him with continued strokes. He softened slightly in the aftermath, but Matthew soon had him as hard as steel again.

They took a few moments to recover.

Finally, Gilbert had Matthew rise up on his knees. He positioned his cock beneath him, then guided the younger man to move downward slowly. The breaching process was always the hardest part whenever Gilbert took lovers. Predictably, Matthew stiffened and winced.

"Gilbert…no, wait…"

"Relax. Just keep yourself relaxed and let me do the work," he hissed. He paused with his hands on Matthew's hips, then pressed downward slightly again.

"Oh!" Then, "No, I can't, it's too b-"

"Trust me, you can….just-"

"Ahhh! Ssssssss…oh! OHH! OOOOOHH!"

"There we go," Gilbert sighed. The sphincter was safely gotten past. He had to wince himself as Matthew finally, slowly, painfully slid down his length. They sat that way, both of them stiff, as they gave their bodies time to adjust. He held the shivering Matthew in his arms, and rested his head against the blond one. "The pain will pass."

Matthew focused on the callused hands rubbing up and down his back, and not on the fact that he was currently being split in two. He didn't think the pain would pass completely, and was perilously close to getting up. The only thing that kept him in place was the thought of how painful moving would be. He remained still, his cock now wilted in deference to the enormous one buried so deeply in his guts. He breathed through the worst of it. When the sharpness of the pain had dulled to a throb, he let himself relax completely. His body molded and conformed to the contours of Gilbert's chest and he laid his head on the older man's shoulder.

Gilbert had been waiting for this sign. Gently, carefully, he settled his hands around Matthew's hips again and lifted him. Matthew gasped and cried out, but Gilbert didn't stop. He lifted and brought Matthew's body down again, and again, working slowly, but persistently until the juices he was leaking into the tight, hot depths were adequately spread. The quality of Matthew's pained cries changed, and Gilbert himself hummed in pleasure. The friction, dear God. It sapped them both of strength. "Ride me, Matthew."

The whispered command set the tone for what followed. A dark descent into the illicit union of men, the scent of power, a taste of submission.

Matthew attempted to obey the command, but so catastrophic was the pleasure that he shamed himself by climaxing and melting completely in weakness.

It was Gilbert, immensely strong, implacable Gilbert, who moved his hips up and down as if Matthew weighed no more than a child. He twisted the hips one way going up, the other way going down, working slowly the entire time. He circled the hips on his rock hard cock, making Matthew keen loud enough to rival the wind as he climaxed again, so soon after the first one. Twist and circle, up and down, over and over, until some measure of strength returned to the sobbing Canadian, and he assisted the movements. There could be no speed, not with the tight fit of Gilbert's body in Matthew's, but the rise and fall motion was smooth now at least, and more certain. Matthew's eyes fluttered as if he were near a faint, but he held to Gilbert's muscular shoulders, just as Gilbert had both arms wrapped tightly around Matthew's torso.

They loved. It was slow, and long, and so sinfully pleasurable as to invite insanity, but it was the beginning, the birth of something neither had ever known. They rode the surging waves of their wildfire passion in helplessness and breathless desire. Their entire lives spent in disconnection with everyone around them. Now joined, fused with the missing half of their souls. The rough and gruff soldier fit the quiet and refined gentleman perfectly. A lifetime spent waiting for each other. The wait now over.

They knew this, and clutched harder at each other, alive with euphoria at love found, at the seamless way their hearts united.

Matthew grasped Gilbert's cheeks, staring into the dark eyes, feeling the man's deep reach into his soul, even as Gilbert's body plunged just as deeply into him elsewhere. The wind gusted around them, just as their breath gusted with equal force in and out of them. They were wed then and there, in that moment, more completely than words could convey, or than any ceremony could achieve. Their eyes were wide with wonder and a little fear, but they didn't look away. Not once during their union. They held fast, though their hearts roared in their chests, and held each other.

Safe harbor had been reached for Gilbert, and Matthew was cherished at last.

"Don't let this end," Matthew gasped near the end. "Don't let me go, ever."

"Not as long as I have breath," Gilbert swore. "Matthew…my heart. My own."