For Your Entertainment

Chapter One: What Actually Happened

"St-Strip?" Matthew stammers. "B-But I- I'm st-still a-"

"A virgin?" Alfred supplies. "That's great to know, even though I kind of figured it out with the way you blush every five seconds." On cue, Matthew blushes. "But I don't see how that pertains to me offering you a shower."

There's a heavy pause about this. Matthew's face is getting steadily redder and finally Alfred takes pity on the boy.

"Hey," he says softly, kneeling down in front of him. "I'm telling you to go take a shower; you're filthy and I don't want you getting dirt around my house."

Matthew stares at him with lips slightly parted in shock, eyelids softly blinking every few seconds. "Y-You're not g-going t-to-" he clamps his lips shut before he can finish, looking panic-stricken. "Pl-Please, I p-promise I didn't d-do anything! D-Don't make me go b-b-back in there..."

"In where?" Alfred can't help but feel impatient. He takes the boy's arm none-too-gently and pulls him up to his feet. "The only place we're going is the bathroom."

Matthew wriggles out of his grip and recoils as if the other's touch sears his skin. "G-Gil's gonna c-come g-get me, and wh-when he gets here, h-he's gonna m-make sure to put y-you in your pl-place!"

Now definitely irritated, Alfred grabs his arm again. This time, he pulls the other close and snakes an arm around his waist so he was unable to back up. "Was that a threat?" he purrs innocently again the boy's neck. He takes delight in the way Matthew trembles in his arms. "Slaves don't talk to their masters like that; you should apologize."

To emphasize his point, he reaches up and tugs on wavy blond tresses roughly.

Matthew only squeaks and squeezes his eyes shut even harder.

Alfred growls, the sound low in the back of his throat. He gives the boy's head a slight shake. "Apologize. Now." His anger flares when he gets no response. "Matthew," he says in the most patient tone he can muster. "Look at me."

Defiantly, Matthew keeps his eyes closed.

Alfred inhales sharply. "You asked for it," he says, sounding almost gleeful.

Then he strikes Matthew hard across the face, and the frail boy crumples to the ground.

. . .

Alfred stares guiltily at the prone figure on the bed. His anger had gotten the best of him - he regrets it now. Matthew looks so...dead.

With a sigh, he turns to the maid standing expectantly in the doorway. "Fetch him some clothes," he says, not taking his eyes off of Matthew. "One of my old outfits will do."

The maid gives a short nod before scampering off to follow orders.

Alfred runs a hand through his hair. Why couldn't Matthew have just apologized? Better yet, why didn't he just go to the bathroom, strip, then wash away all of the dirt and grime and God-knows-what-else off?

And now his bed is probably covered in millions of germs.

(He shudders.)

(On the bright side, though, maybe it means that he'll get to shower Matthew himself.)

And who the fuck was Gil?

Slave markets generally had high security and it was rare for slaves to escape. Arthur would never be as stupid as to buy from a market that isn't trustworthy, and if this Gil was some fellow slave, there was a rather slim chance that he'd be any real threat.

Matthew shifts on the bed, groaning softly. Alfred expects him to wake up, but the blond only stirs for a few more seconds before nestling back into slumber, smiling contentedly.

Alfred tilts his head curiously at the smile. "Must be some happy dream," he muses out loud.

He can't help the feeling of envy that tugs at his heart. Matthew's admittedly cute and okay, so maybe Alfred might have a bit of a soft spot-

Don't you dare start thinking like that, a voice berates. It sounds like his brother, for some unfathomable reason. Bloody git, quit while you're ahead. He's a slave, for the Queen's sake.

"Wh-What was that, sir?" The maid is standing in the doorway with an armful of clothes. Alfred dismisses the question with a shake of his head and takes the clothes.

A mischievous grin of his own spreads across his face - this will be fun.

. . .

"What'd he do this time?" Long fingers combed through his hair, carefully smoothing out the knots. Concerned ruby orbs stared down at him.

"S'wasn't as bad as last time," Matthew mumbled. He winced a little when Gilbert ghosted a finger over his bruising eye. He would have a nice shiner by the morning, no doubt.

"You've got a black eye, a missing tooth, and don't think that I didn't see the hickey on your neck," Gilbert deadpanned.

Matthew chuckled weakly. "No broken bones this time?" he offered, trying in vain to look on the bright side. He wouldn't tell Gilbert, but his bottom was aching too.

"Fuck, Birdie." Gilbert looked cross. "I swear, I'm gonna get you out of here soon. We won't have these damning collars around our necks like we're a bunch of dogs-"

"I thought you liked this kind of stuff, Gil?"

"Shut up. As I was saying, we're getting out soon." When he finished, he sounded more dejected. "I...I promise, okay, Matt? We'll change our names and go buy a house and go domestic and shit. We'll even buy a dog."

"Mhm." Matthew closed his eyes. He smiled dazedly. "That'd be nice."

It would never happen in a hundred years, of course. But it was still nice to hear.

It made things seems almost all right.

. . .

When Matthew wakes up, he finds himself in an abnormally large bed with equally as abnormally fluffy sheets. His hand flies up to cover his chest - something he does whenever he tries to calm himself - and he discovers that he's not wearing his own clothes.

He also discovers that he feels freshened, there's no trace of dirt on him, and his skin is smelling suspiciously like strawberries.

"G-Gilbert?" the name falls from his lips without him meaning to. He supposes that it's become something akin to instinct now.

"Hm, you keep mentioning this man," says a voice, and that's when he sees Alfred standing beside the bed. "I bet you were dreaming about him, too."

Matthew feels himself go rigid. He presses his lips together hard and doesn't answer, afraid of another blow.

Alfred smirks. "I'm kind of jealous," he admits. "But that doesn't matter; you'll forget him within the next hour."

With that said, he produced a satin tie from behind his back and set to work on tying his toy up.

A/N: Three more parts to go! /bricked

And...yes, it's Pru/Can/US. :U