Reaching Reality - Part 1/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Title: Reaching Reality - Part 1/8 - [[AmeCan, USUK]]
Author/Artist: colonel_alqui
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, Canada, America/Canada, America/England.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language and sexual situations.
Summary: If Matthew ever learned that he was checking out other boys, frighteningly close to what he was doing right now with Arthur, there would be consequences...
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Alfred’s arms were wrapped snugly around his twin, hands rubbing up and down his back and lips soft against the other’s. He was comforting him. It was only the first day of their junior year in high school, and he was already comforting him. Today, he bore the physical heaviness of the book bag on his shoulders, and the emotional heaviness of knowing that the two of them didn’t share even one class this year. They would be separated for the entire school day with the exception of lunch.
Together, they stood at the front door of their empty home, fifteen minutes before the first bell on campus would ring. Their mother’s untimely, illness-related death, at a point when they were still in diapers, and their father’s need to be at the office from sunrise to sunset created the silence that surrounded them - broken by nothing more than Alfred’s whispered consolations and Matthew’s sniffles and the light smacking of their mouths. They were alone, and they loved it. They were in love.
Or, at least, that’s what Alfred knew he was supposed to believe. He knew that Matthew and himself were supposed to be utterly intimate and connected with one another, that’s how it had always been…
From the moment they were able to walk, they would hold hands. Initially, it had simply been for stability in their legs, although as they grew older and continued the hand-holding out of sheer habit, emotions began to alter between them. It was a dramatic and daring development that they were taking on. And they weren’t even aware of it, it was just too natural for them, the bond they were creating.
At age seven, their urges to seek out each other’s hand became so intense that Alfred would sneak out of his bed each and every night in order to slip into Matthew’s, one room over, and vice versa. They would clasp their hands beneath the cotton sheets and fall asleep with their bodies aligned and their expressions affectionate. They were never checked on by their father, and were therefore never found out for this little ritual - they were good boys, they didn’t need to be checked on.
A few weeks past their tenth birthday, a new step in this ritual was added. They had both recently visited the eye doctor to receive the glasses they required, and wore them to bed that night out of excitement, touching their frames and smiling. When they had decided to lean their heads in, with less than an inch of space separating them, for a better look, they paused. Several blinks were made, a breath or two was drawn, and then… they kissed. It was gentle, a butterfly-like peck that had seemed to be instinctive. This tender contact was a part of their ritual from that instant forward, mixed somewhere amongst the hand-holding and inner, slightly confused thoughts of what would happen next.
Their wonderings lasted three long years, hormones assaulting them around the age of thirteen and causing desires and their relationship to heighten. It drove them to one passionate discussion on an early August evening.
“Mattie, I want to, I really want to, but…”
“But what? Alfred, you said it yourself that you want to.”
“I know, but, well, what if someone finds out?”
“No one will ever find out. And who cares if they did, anyway? I love you, and you love me, so this is just what’s right. I want this, I want you.”
“… Okay, I believe you. Thanks, Mattie.”
That night created a new step in their ritual, as well, a promise that they would have make love on something close to a biweekly basis. That night they shared the loss of their virginities, the same as so many other things, they were closer now more than ever before. They had to be, they were perfect together. And through their sweating skins, panting mouths, semen-stained thighs… They sealed their physical and emotional bond, so strongly that it became a burden to them when one of the two of them was hurting. Like in this very moment, Matthew wiping away his final round of tears that had been caused by the lack of school time with one another.
Yet, for an unknown reason, Alfred couldn’t relate to this sorrow - obviously, he could understand it in being his twin, although it didn’t affect him. It bothered him, sure, but not to the point of weeping. He didn’t mind the separation. It wasn’t that he needed it… he simply didn’t mind.
They soon untangled themselves and walked out into the world after a final short, caring kiss. The instant that they stepped out of the seclusion of their home, they became an honest pair of twins, not lovers, and not a single touch was given, no suggestive remarks were made. Incest was a social taboo, a concept that even their liberal hometown of New York City was unable to tolerate. Within the confines of their affluent Manhattan home, narrow and having three levels, was the single peaceful space in which they could do whatever they pleased without being judged. However, at school and on the streets, they displayed no motions of affection other than brotherly ones, and they each had yet to take up a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. None of their classmates knew either of their preferences, and they hardly cared, as they were each popular - Alfred more so - enough to evade such questions successfully. If the subject came up, they usually told some lie about waiting for the supposed maturity of the dating scene in college…
Carlton Prestige Academy, their private high school that was a brief walking distance away, was bustling with activity by the time they arrived, a minute or two before the first bell of the day would ring, having been slowed by Matthew’s dragging feet. He was frowning as they stepped into the lush courtyard, his features shaded by the surrounding oak trees and his frown only deepening when the bell actually rang, forced to slip away to his fourth level French class. He did so once he had murmured a goodbye to his twin and had lightly punched at his shoulder.
Now alone with nothing but the other students surrounding him, and there were quite a few, as the Academy had a total of 2,000 alumni within its four grade levels, Alfred edged off to the side in order to glance at his schedule. Although he was interrupted by greetings and high-fives from a few of his friends that spotted him, he managed to memorize and map out his classes in a little over a minute - pre-calculus was in the upper half of the main building, standard junior English was on the left side of campus, creative film was in the practical art department behind the main building, then there was lunch in the courtyard, American history was also on the left side of campus, chemistry was in the lower half of the main building, and football was, of course, out on the field. Right. He was set for these six courses, and he believed that nothing would stop him from doing well, similar to how nothing, not even daily, extended separation from Matthew would stop him from loving his twin. He was going to be just fine, and they were going to be just fine.
However, this entire thought process was before he entered his first period class. Before things changed. From the moment he greeted his teacher and took note of where his assigned seat was and who it was he would be partnered with, his priorities morphed drastically. And he was completely unaware of it, unaware of how his eyes widened at the sight of flawlessly tousled honey blonde hair and a glinting green gaze, unaware of how his ears perked at the sound of a foreign accent.
As role was called, a pause taken in the middle to briefly welcome and introduce the Academy’s newest student from London, he learned that his seatmate’s name was Arthur Kirkland. The name seemed British enough, silently reiterated for every time he spoke, his lips producing a normal vocabulary of the English language but with that sweet tang of an accent. Words were more beautiful when he said them. Others, particularly the girls in the nearby rows, appeared to hold the same belief, since they constantly pestered him during work time if only to hear ‘I don’t know the answer to that one’ or ‘Maybe it’s seven?’ spoken in that foreign tone. He himself, on the opposite end, remained quiet, somewhat of a rare feat for him, especially in a math class, and busied his mind with equations and attempts at comprehending these feelings welling up inside of him.
He was sexually attracted to his own gender, obviously, just look at his current partner! Though he had never found another male who was worth his attention and efforts. And that was most likely for the better, understanding that if Matthew ever learned that he was checking out other boys, frighteningly close to what he was doing right now with Arthur, there would be consequences.
Nevertheless, he was unable to hold back as he gestured toward Arthur’s worksheet somewhere close to halfway through the class period, telling him, “The answer to number three is radical two over two. See? It’s because your graphing line curves and hits those points.”
He had held up his calculator, which displayed the correct graph and numbers for the problem. On his worksheet, he was already at number seventeen, although he had stopped to glance at his neighbor’s and examine his work. It appeared that the British boy honestly didn’t have a clue, and he raised an eyebrow at this, attempting to lock their gazes and make conversation while suppressing his urge to merely stare. He wanted to stare, damn it. The Academy’s uniform of khaki slacks and a light blue blazer for the boys suited that slim frame beside him quite nicely, his hips seeming to be hugged and his shoulders angled at an appealing level between slouching and set straight back.
Arthur was, to him, a piece of work - that idea reaffirmed when he spoke in that voice of his.
“Yes, well… Thank you. I was getting to that, it’s a bit difficult for me to focus on math,” he explained, his pale face turned in Alfred’s direction, those thin lips beginning to arch into a smile, “It’s my worst subject. I’m in this class because seniors have to take in order to graduate, it’s horrible, I know.”
“I’m here because I like math, I like it a lot, and I’m good at it. I’m a junior, so, yeah… We’re opposites, huh? You’re old and you hate math, and I’m young and I love it,” Alfred said, mirroring the other’s smile by the end of his babblings. What’s more, it stretched into a full-blown grin when he heard Arthur laugh, even feeling his arm touched in a playful manner.
“I’m only a year ahead of you, calm down, I’m not old,” he said, a few chuckles continuing to burst from him here and there…
Alfred’s grin persisted long after pre-calculus had ended, a quick goodbye said to his new seatmate - friend? - as he left the classroom. It was plastered on him like a shining seal of happiness, and when questioned about it at lunch by Matthew, he claimed it was the product of the school’s hamburger’s on the menu today. And when questioned a second time at home, his claim changed to the fact that their father had called and told them that he would be pulling an all-nighter. Yes, his happiness stemmed from simple grilled beef and a lack of parental interruptions. It certainly wasn’t because he had made a fresh acquaintance in first hour, and he certainly wasn’t amorously distracted by that enticing accent or girlish figure or how his arm had been touched…!
Laying in bed later that evening and busying his mind with these thoughts, Alfred soon recognized a familiar ache in his lower half. He blinked and shifted beneath the sheets, his arousal furthering from the fabric of his boxers brushing against him with the movement. Hm. With Matthew still finishing up his shower and changing in the adjacent bedroom, he saw no harm in sliding one hand beyond the elastic band at his waist. Since masturbation wasn’t a part of his normal routine and with someone other than his twin in mind, he wasn’t too surprised at how much pleasure he took from the first stroke. He moaned, licked his lips, and continued.
“Sorry, I was thinking about you changing and I got excited. I guess I can’t help myself,” he was explaining a couple of minutes later, Matthew having climbed into the bed. The smaller blonde had immediately moved on top of him and had noticed the hardening member hiding under those innocent, rocket ship-print print boxers. He accepted the lie and beamed at the explanation, however, and was delighted to hear more, “I need you, Mattie. My dick’s so hard for you, seriously, I almost came just thinking about you.”
Alfred then brought him in for a kiss, pleads for affection tied into the mix of lips and tongues. It wasn’t until the contact was broken, their bodies already moving with one another, that he received a reply.
“You’re so cute, Alfred… Mm, school wore me out more than I thought it would, so let’s skip the sex tonight. But I don’t want to leave you like that, so how about I suck you off?” Matthew offered, already working to toss the sheets aside and pulling down his twin’s boxers to reveal the warm, throbbing bit of flesh that he was entirely accustomed to. Their eyes met for a split-second. His right hand then went to lightly grip the base while his mouth went straight to its task of taking a delicious amount of the erection in. The left hand shifted behind Alfred and squeezed his backside, something he knew intensified the experience for him. He knew because they were lovers, because they had always been this way and that nothing would change them.
And when Alfred eventually released stronger and faster than ever before, so much so that Matthew needed to both swallow and lick the excess, spilled semen from his twin’s inner thighs, he believed that it was all within his power. He knew that he was the reason for Alfred’s sexual highs, not the mental image of some British senior.
Matthew remained oblivious, and Alfred couldn’t wait for math class tomorrow.
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