APH: Let's Play A Love Game (Chapter One)
Title: Let’s Play A Love Game (1/7)
Author: grosse_averse
Characters: Netherlands/Canada, with a gratuitous smattering of other nations
Rating: Eventual NC-17 - for now, T for the annoyingly repeated usage of the word crotch.
Summary: Matthew doesn’t mind Lars playing around, as long as he gets to the main event, eventually. Although he doesn't really appreciate it happening at the world conference, of all places!
Notes: Margot = Belgium
Introduction
MONDAY
Lars arrived Sunday night, in the hustle and bustle of nations - they barely had time for a quick kiss before Margot was pulling the Dutch nation away to the lobby. The next time he saw Lars, the taller man had winked, shown him his card key, and gone into the room beside Matthew’s.
Matthew had woken up a bit late, so by the time he stumbled down to the restaurant for breakfast there were only a few stragglers picking at muffins and eggs - Australia greeted him loudly from a table and Matthew slid into a chair to join him. A bleary eyed Estonia joined them later. Matthew spent most of breakfast checking his watch to make sure he wasn’t late for the conference. He had left Kumajirou at his home in Ottawa because he thought the bear would be bored by the meetings - but he felt bad when he realized Australia had brought his koala with him. Maybe Kumajirou would have been all right if Matthew had known that he had someone to play with (if Kuma had wanted to play with the koala at all - it still had that tendency to look like Satan, the same look that had frightened a young Matthew all those years ago).
“All right, mate?” Australia asked him as they made their way to the conference room. Matthew nodded.
“Just a bit tired.” he explained. “How was the flight in for you?”
Australia, who hated it when world conferences were held anywhere further than Papua New Guinea, grimaced.
“Long.” he said simply. “On the plus side, I now know everything about Al’s celebrities that I would ever want to know.”
Matthew grinned as they entered the conference room. “How many of them are pregnant?” he teased.
“Seven.” Australia replied breezily. “And five of the husbands might be cheating, or gay.”
“Horrors.” Matthew snorted, and squeezed his cousin’s arm in farewell as they parted, on opposite sides of the table, searching for their place cards.
Matthew saw his - “Canada” in bold black letters, along with a portfolio of the day’s various handouts, and a glass of water - and he looked around to see who he was sitting by.
Across the table, he met the amused eyes of Lars, reclining easily back in his seat, playing with his ball point pen. To Matthew’s left, Taiwan gave him a friendly smile. Whoever was to Matthew’s right (Matthew checked the nameplate - it was Latvia), wasn’t here yet. Matthew gave Lars a smile and he returned it. The Dutch nation was wearing one of his favourite suits - dark, expertly cut, with the green tie Matthew liked so much. Matthew couldn’t help staring.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked Lars, leaning over the table to talk to him. Lars grinned.
“Oh yeah, I slept great.” he affirmed with a wink. “How about you?”
“F-fine, thanks.” Matthew stammered, giving Raivis a “good morning!” as the small country slid into his seat. “Er...do you want to go out for lunch today?”
Lars leaned closer, folding his arms on the table and propping his chin up on them. “Sure.” he said. “That would be great.”
Then Alfred was shouting something up at the front and Lars leaned away, leaving Matthew only a little bit disappointed.
“Welcome to New York City!” Alfred announced. “I hope you all had a good sleep, and we’re ready to start the meeting! Arthur wanted to speak first because he hates it when I overshadow his ideas with my own awesome ones...”
“You wanker...” came the Englishman’s curt reply.
Matthew almost jumped when he felt something brush his leg. He looked over at Lars, who was concentrated on the front, cap of his pen between his lips. Matthew ignored it.
He was aware of Lars fiddling with something out of his vision, but Raivis started to ask him a question about the day’s timetable, and he turned his attention to the nervous country.
“The number in the margin is how much time we’re allotted to speak,” Matthew explained gently. “You emailed Alfred an outline of your discussion a month ago, right? He gave you time slot based on what you had to talk abOUT!”
Raivis gave him a strange look. Shivering, Matthew twisted in his seat to glower at Lars, who was flipping far too innocently through the itinerary. Somehow, without anyone noticing, Lars had taken off his shoe and was now attempting to trail his toes up under Matthew’s trouser leg.
“Are you all right?” Raivis asked. Matthew reached out to grab his water glass like it was a lifeline.
“F-fine.” he replied. “Something...something in my throat!”
Lars laughed. His toes rubbed into Matthew’s bare calf. Matthew yanked his leg away, flushing.
“C’mon.” Lars said under his breath. “Live a little, Mattie. We’re never gonna get anywhere if you don’t.”
Scowling, Matthew hissed back, “This is not the appropriate time - ”
“Would you like to add something?” Arthur asked from the opposite end of the table. Matthew winced.
“No, sorry.” he called. Out of all the times people decided to notice him, why now?
Once the meeting had resumed Lars, with a smirk in the corner of his mouth, tore out a sheet from his notebook, and scribbled on it: ‘You are so going to lose, schat.’
‘Oh yes, because stabbing me with your toenails is going to make me horny.’ Matthew scrawled back, trying not to shudder again at the whisper-light touch of Lars’s toes on his ankle. Lars just grinned at him.
A half hour into the meeting, and Matthew was pretty sure he was going crazy. Lars had entertained himself thus far by rubbing his foot all up and down Matthew’s leg - Matthew wasn’t sure whether he should be annoyed or grossed out.
‘If you keep this up’ he wrote down angrily on the loose-leaf, ‘You are not going to be getting ANYTHING for a very long time!’
Lars pretended to look appalled. Then a slow grin spread across his face and, locking his eyes with Matthew’s, he stretched his leg out under the table and placed it squarely on Matthew’s crotch.
Matthew trembled and shot Lars the dirtiest glare he could. Lars only gave him a smile. Matthew used his leg in an attempt to knock Lars’s leg away. The taller man held fast, making several lewd movements with his hands and his ball-point pen - Taiwan noticed this and giggled at them. Matthew only hoped that she wouldn’t look down and see Lars’s toes peeking out from under their side of the table.
Stop, he mouthed at Lars, who shrugged as if he had no idea what Matthew was talking about. Fed up, Matthew reached under the table with both hands and attempted to tickle the underside of Lars’s foot. The nation opposite him snorted to disguise his laughter, fist clenched around his pen. Matthew could feel his muscles jumping in his leg.
Matthew, anticipating that he had the upper hand, continued wiggling his fingers under Lars’s foot, grazing the soft flesh.
Lars retaliated by wriggling his toes against Matthew’s crotch.
Matthew lurched forward at the sensation and knocked his water glass over. It soaked into half his portfolio and dribbled over the edge of the table, soaking his trousers and, consequently, Lars’s bare foot. The Dutch nation stuck out his tongue at Matthew’s stupidity.
Whispering frantic apologies to Taiwan, who had rolled up the sleeves of her cheongsam to avoid the water, Matthew attempted to use the rest of his papers to mop up the liquid. The conference room had gone completely quiet and Matthew struggled out of his suit jacket, mumbled something about getting some paper towels from the washroom and bolted out the door, face red.
He was dabbing at his trousers with a wad of paper towel when Lars walked into the bathroom. Matthew glared at his reflection in the mirror.
“Go away.” he said. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Lars was trying not to laugh. Matthew could tell.
“C’mon.” the taller nation wheedled. “I didn’t think you were going to react like that!”
“You put your foot on my crotch!” Matthew reminded him. “How did you think I was going to react?”
Lars tried the puppy dog eyes - Matthew made an angry noise and continued scrubbing at the wet patches down his front.
Lars sighed and took the paper towel from him. “Here, let me help.” he said gently. “You have to apply pressure or you won’t soak up the water.” he knelt and pressed the towel against the front of Matthew’s pants. The Canadian sucked in a sharp breath - that was way too close for comfort. Lars’s head was partially bowed but Matthew could still see the grin that was creeping up on his face. Matthew scowled.
“You’re a horny idiot.” he accused. Lars squinted up at him in mock-surprise.
“Am I?” he asked. “I suppose this is no indication of you being horny, either?” his other hand came up and gently brushed over Matthew’s crotch, where something was definitely stirring. The younger nation gripped the sink counter.
“S-seriously, Lars, someone could come in here...” he reasoned. Lars gave him a soft squeeze through his pants.
“Nah, they’re all enraptured with your brother’s most recent plan to make all cars into Transformers.” Lars told him with a calculated look in his eye. “But hey, Mattie, I’m really sorry I startled you like that.”
Another squeeze. Matthew’s breath came out in a soft little pant.
“It’s all right.” he managed. Lars’s face was the picture of innocent concern.
“No, really.” he insisted. “I don’t know why we’re even playing this stupid game. If you just gave up right now, we’d have all week to fool around.”
Well great. Not only did his pants have a giant wet spot on them, but Lars had coaxed Matthew easily into a half-hard state. The Dutch nation seemed proud of himself, trailing teasing fingers over Matthew’s clothed arousal.
Did Lars think he’d give up so easily? Matthew thought suddenly, feeling offended. Lars obviously underestimated him, and if there was one thing Matthew didn’t like, it was people underestimating him.
“Yeah?” Matthew asked coyly, bringing one hand off the sink counter to run it through Lars’s spiked up hair. The taller nation, mistaking Matthew’s reaction for that of agreement, stood and pressed the both of them up against the counter. “Would you like that, Lars? Knowing I was only one day into the game and I couldn’t handle going the rest of the week?”
Lars’s grin was triumphant, and he pressed his lips to Matthew’s throat. Matthew tilted his head.
“If you think you can make me spill water on myself and then corner me in a bathroom in order to win, you have another thing coming.” Matthew pressed his knee gently upwards, grazing Lars’s thigh and coming to rest in between his legs, where he discovered that he and the Dutch nation were pretty much on the same wavelength. Lars’s laugh was strained.
“Whoa, schat, I didn’t mean...”
“I think you’ve forgotten that I’m a pretty competitive player, eh?” Matthew informed him, pushing Lars away with a grin. “Sorry if you thought one day would be all it took to get me to lose.”
Lars looked equal parts bewildered and aroused. “Well, fuck.” he said.
Now, Matthew thought vindictively, the game was on.
--
to be continued
--
Note: Schat is a Dutch term of endearment.
Author: grosse_averse
Characters: Netherlands/Canada, with a gratuitous smattering of other nations
Rating: Eventual NC-17 - for now, T for the annoyingly repeated usage of the word crotch.
Summary: Matthew doesn’t mind Lars playing around, as long as he gets to the main event, eventually. Although he doesn't really appreciate it happening at the world conference, of all places!
Notes: Margot = Belgium
Introduction
MONDAY
Lars arrived Sunday night, in the hustle and bustle of nations - they barely had time for a quick kiss before Margot was pulling the Dutch nation away to the lobby. The next time he saw Lars, the taller man had winked, shown him his card key, and gone into the room beside Matthew’s.
Matthew had woken up a bit late, so by the time he stumbled down to the restaurant for breakfast there were only a few stragglers picking at muffins and eggs - Australia greeted him loudly from a table and Matthew slid into a chair to join him. A bleary eyed Estonia joined them later. Matthew spent most of breakfast checking his watch to make sure he wasn’t late for the conference. He had left Kumajirou at his home in Ottawa because he thought the bear would be bored by the meetings - but he felt bad when he realized Australia had brought his koala with him. Maybe Kumajirou would have been all right if Matthew had known that he had someone to play with (if Kuma had wanted to play with the koala at all - it still had that tendency to look like Satan, the same look that had frightened a young Matthew all those years ago).
“All right, mate?” Australia asked him as they made their way to the conference room. Matthew nodded.
“Just a bit tired.” he explained. “How was the flight in for you?”
Australia, who hated it when world conferences were held anywhere further than Papua New Guinea, grimaced.
“Long.” he said simply. “On the plus side, I now know everything about Al’s celebrities that I would ever want to know.”
Matthew grinned as they entered the conference room. “How many of them are pregnant?” he teased.
“Seven.” Australia replied breezily. “And five of the husbands might be cheating, or gay.”
“Horrors.” Matthew snorted, and squeezed his cousin’s arm in farewell as they parted, on opposite sides of the table, searching for their place cards.
Matthew saw his - “Canada” in bold black letters, along with a portfolio of the day’s various handouts, and a glass of water - and he looked around to see who he was sitting by.
Across the table, he met the amused eyes of Lars, reclining easily back in his seat, playing with his ball point pen. To Matthew’s left, Taiwan gave him a friendly smile. Whoever was to Matthew’s right (Matthew checked the nameplate - it was Latvia), wasn’t here yet. Matthew gave Lars a smile and he returned it. The Dutch nation was wearing one of his favourite suits - dark, expertly cut, with the green tie Matthew liked so much. Matthew couldn’t help staring.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked Lars, leaning over the table to talk to him. Lars grinned.
“Oh yeah, I slept great.” he affirmed with a wink. “How about you?”
“F-fine, thanks.” Matthew stammered, giving Raivis a “good morning!” as the small country slid into his seat. “Er...do you want to go out for lunch today?”
Lars leaned closer, folding his arms on the table and propping his chin up on them. “Sure.” he said. “That would be great.”
Then Alfred was shouting something up at the front and Lars leaned away, leaving Matthew only a little bit disappointed.
“Welcome to New York City!” Alfred announced. “I hope you all had a good sleep, and we’re ready to start the meeting! Arthur wanted to speak first because he hates it when I overshadow his ideas with my own awesome ones...”
“You wanker...” came the Englishman’s curt reply.
Matthew almost jumped when he felt something brush his leg. He looked over at Lars, who was concentrated on the front, cap of his pen between his lips. Matthew ignored it.
He was aware of Lars fiddling with something out of his vision, but Raivis started to ask him a question about the day’s timetable, and he turned his attention to the nervous country.
“The number in the margin is how much time we’re allotted to speak,” Matthew explained gently. “You emailed Alfred an outline of your discussion a month ago, right? He gave you time slot based on what you had to talk abOUT!”
Raivis gave him a strange look. Shivering, Matthew twisted in his seat to glower at Lars, who was flipping far too innocently through the itinerary. Somehow, without anyone noticing, Lars had taken off his shoe and was now attempting to trail his toes up under Matthew’s trouser leg.
“Are you all right?” Raivis asked. Matthew reached out to grab his water glass like it was a lifeline.
“F-fine.” he replied. “Something...something in my throat!”
Lars laughed. His toes rubbed into Matthew’s bare calf. Matthew yanked his leg away, flushing.
“C’mon.” Lars said under his breath. “Live a little, Mattie. We’re never gonna get anywhere if you don’t.”
Scowling, Matthew hissed back, “This is not the appropriate time - ”
“Would you like to add something?” Arthur asked from the opposite end of the table. Matthew winced.
“No, sorry.” he called. Out of all the times people decided to notice him, why now?
Once the meeting had resumed Lars, with a smirk in the corner of his mouth, tore out a sheet from his notebook, and scribbled on it: ‘You are so going to lose, schat.’
‘Oh yes, because stabbing me with your toenails is going to make me horny.’ Matthew scrawled back, trying not to shudder again at the whisper-light touch of Lars’s toes on his ankle. Lars just grinned at him.
A half hour into the meeting, and Matthew was pretty sure he was going crazy. Lars had entertained himself thus far by rubbing his foot all up and down Matthew’s leg - Matthew wasn’t sure whether he should be annoyed or grossed out.
‘If you keep this up’ he wrote down angrily on the loose-leaf, ‘You are not going to be getting ANYTHING for a very long time!’
Lars pretended to look appalled. Then a slow grin spread across his face and, locking his eyes with Matthew’s, he stretched his leg out under the table and placed it squarely on Matthew’s crotch.
Matthew trembled and shot Lars the dirtiest glare he could. Lars only gave him a smile. Matthew used his leg in an attempt to knock Lars’s leg away. The taller man held fast, making several lewd movements with his hands and his ball-point pen - Taiwan noticed this and giggled at them. Matthew only hoped that she wouldn’t look down and see Lars’s toes peeking out from under their side of the table.
Stop, he mouthed at Lars, who shrugged as if he had no idea what Matthew was talking about. Fed up, Matthew reached under the table with both hands and attempted to tickle the underside of Lars’s foot. The nation opposite him snorted to disguise his laughter, fist clenched around his pen. Matthew could feel his muscles jumping in his leg.
Matthew, anticipating that he had the upper hand, continued wiggling his fingers under Lars’s foot, grazing the soft flesh.
Lars retaliated by wriggling his toes against Matthew’s crotch.
Matthew lurched forward at the sensation and knocked his water glass over. It soaked into half his portfolio and dribbled over the edge of the table, soaking his trousers and, consequently, Lars’s bare foot. The Dutch nation stuck out his tongue at Matthew’s stupidity.
Whispering frantic apologies to Taiwan, who had rolled up the sleeves of her cheongsam to avoid the water, Matthew attempted to use the rest of his papers to mop up the liquid. The conference room had gone completely quiet and Matthew struggled out of his suit jacket, mumbled something about getting some paper towels from the washroom and bolted out the door, face red.
He was dabbing at his trousers with a wad of paper towel when Lars walked into the bathroom. Matthew glared at his reflection in the mirror.
“Go away.” he said. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Lars was trying not to laugh. Matthew could tell.
“C’mon.” the taller nation wheedled. “I didn’t think you were going to react like that!”
“You put your foot on my crotch!” Matthew reminded him. “How did you think I was going to react?”
Lars tried the puppy dog eyes - Matthew made an angry noise and continued scrubbing at the wet patches down his front.
Lars sighed and took the paper towel from him. “Here, let me help.” he said gently. “You have to apply pressure or you won’t soak up the water.” he knelt and pressed the towel against the front of Matthew’s pants. The Canadian sucked in a sharp breath - that was way too close for comfort. Lars’s head was partially bowed but Matthew could still see the grin that was creeping up on his face. Matthew scowled.
“You’re a horny idiot.” he accused. Lars squinted up at him in mock-surprise.
“Am I?” he asked. “I suppose this is no indication of you being horny, either?” his other hand came up and gently brushed over Matthew’s crotch, where something was definitely stirring. The younger nation gripped the sink counter.
“S-seriously, Lars, someone could come in here...” he reasoned. Lars gave him a soft squeeze through his pants.
“Nah, they’re all enraptured with your brother’s most recent plan to make all cars into Transformers.” Lars told him with a calculated look in his eye. “But hey, Mattie, I’m really sorry I startled you like that.”
Another squeeze. Matthew’s breath came out in a soft little pant.
“It’s all right.” he managed. Lars’s face was the picture of innocent concern.
“No, really.” he insisted. “I don’t know why we’re even playing this stupid game. If you just gave up right now, we’d have all week to fool around.”
Well great. Not only did his pants have a giant wet spot on them, but Lars had coaxed Matthew easily into a half-hard state. The Dutch nation seemed proud of himself, trailing teasing fingers over Matthew’s clothed arousal.
Did Lars think he’d give up so easily? Matthew thought suddenly, feeling offended. Lars obviously underestimated him, and if there was one thing Matthew didn’t like, it was people underestimating him.
“Yeah?” Matthew asked coyly, bringing one hand off the sink counter to run it through Lars’s spiked up hair. The taller nation, mistaking Matthew’s reaction for that of agreement, stood and pressed the both of them up against the counter. “Would you like that, Lars? Knowing I was only one day into the game and I couldn’t handle going the rest of the week?”
Lars’s grin was triumphant, and he pressed his lips to Matthew’s throat. Matthew tilted his head.
“If you think you can make me spill water on myself and then corner me in a bathroom in order to win, you have another thing coming.” Matthew pressed his knee gently upwards, grazing Lars’s thigh and coming to rest in between his legs, where he discovered that he and the Dutch nation were pretty much on the same wavelength. Lars’s laugh was strained.
“Whoa, schat, I didn’t mean...”
“I think you’ve forgotten that I’m a pretty competitive player, eh?” Matthew informed him, pushing Lars away with a grin. “Sorry if you thought one day would be all it took to get me to lose.”
Lars looked equal parts bewildered and aroused. “Well, fuck.” he said.
Now, Matthew thought vindictively, the game was on.
--
to be continued
--
Note: Schat is a Dutch term of endearment.