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silvinlewis · 4 years

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Lloro...

The Truth

I had to write a short (~3800 words) one-shot for Matthew x Cordelia. Story is set a few months after James and Cordelia announce their engagement. Matthew confesses his feelings to her. It was getting very smutty but I toned it down for my own sake. Rated M (lil bit of sexy kissing, nothing crazy).

Matthew was in a particularly foul mood when he arrived at his parabatai’s estate. He trudged up the stone steps and knocked twice loudly. Just before he could lose his patience and barge in himself the door swung open to reveal a sleepy, confused James.

“Math?” he asked, taking in Matthew’s torn and bloodied waistcoat.

He brushed past James into the foyer instead of answering. With a huff of frustration he tore the waistcoat from his arms and tossed it across the room. It was soaked in foul ichor.

“I just received that yesterday,” Matthew complained. “I’d ordered it months ago, custom made.”

“You’re bleeding,” James walked up to take Matthew’s left arm in inspection.

“Did you not hear me?” Matthew pulled his arm free of James’ grasp. He stalked down the hall towards the library. Matthew threw himself down onto the ornate green and gold rug in front of the fireplace, stretching his sore legs towards the gently crackling fire.

“Yes, yes, your new coat is ruined,” James said as he entered. The door slammed shut behind him, worsening Matthew’s already throbbing headache.

“The embroidered carnations were made of silk,” Matthew’s voice dripped with despair. “Silk from China.”

“I won’t deny that it looked like a lovely coat,” James came to lean against the couch by the fire.

“It was more than lovely.”

“I’m sure you can have another one made,” James suggested with a shrug.

Matthew rolled his eyes and didn’t look at his entirely too sensical best friend. Of course it hadn’t made sense to go on patrol wearing his newest prized possession. Thomas had pointed that out to him numerous times before they’d even left the Institute.

“If we hadn’t run into those grotesque Mantid demons-”

“Mantid demons?” a soft voice cuts Matthew off from the entry to the library. He turns to see Cordelia walking quickly towards them. Her dark red hair hangs loosely over her shoulders. She ties her ivory robe securely around her waist, concealing her knee-length nightgown from view. Matthew has to look away so she won’t notice the slight blush creeping across his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” James can’t seem to meet his wife’s eyes when she looks at him. Cordelia looks at Matthew instead, watching him with concern as she stands beside James. “Matthew was on patrol with Thomas. He showed up bloodied and irritated.”

Matthew huffs dismissively. He hates the way it feels to have his parabatai’s fiancé stare at him so intently. He hates the way she looks worried, because it makes him feel good.

“Are you hurt?” she asks.

“No,” Matthew says at the same time that James says “Yes.”

“Take off your shirt,” Cordelia commands.

“I am fine,” Matthew doesn’t bother to hide his frustration.

She crosses her arms over her chest and gives Matthew an impatient look. As always, it was pointless for him to try and argue with her. He doesn’t drop her gaze as he begins to unbutton the cream-colored linen. Cordelia only looks away once Matthew reaches the last button and shrugs the shirt off completely. Her eyes dart to his lower abdomen and she frowns.

Matthew looks down at his bare torso and notices a large, jagged cut. It spans from the top of his left hip bone to just above his navel. The blood around it is mostly dried, but a small amount of fresh blood still seeps from the wound. He’s not surprised he didn’t feel much pain but the sight of it now brings it to his attention.

“I’ll get a washrag and water,” Cordelia says. Matthew is confused by the tightness he hears in her voice. James sigs after the door shuts behind her.

“Trouble in paradise, Jamie?” Matthew taunts him. It’s not like him to goad his friend, but frustration from tonight and the past few months is finally overwhelming him.

James doesn’t look at him. He stands up from the couch and strides over to the liquor cabinet across the room. Matthew winces when he hears the clink of an empty glass against another.

“I’m afraid my Dai-” James clears his throat. “I’m afraid Cordelia is reluctant to continue our engagement.”

For once, Matthew is shockingly unable to reply. He knew that their engagement was an illusion, a promise for the sake of their societal appearances. Cordelia and James were only to be married for a year before they would divorce and seek true relationships.

Still, it surprised him to hear that Cordelia would consider ending their charade before it could even benefit them. But he understood her pain. To be so close to someone you loved and know that love would never be returned, he was very familiar with that feeling.

“Can you blame her?” Matthew wasn’t sure James would understand. His relationship with Grace had barely changed at all during the past few months. Of course they’d kept it all quite hidden, but James could hide nothing from Matthew.

“I know the situation is less than ideal,” James says quietly. He walks back to his previous spot against the couch, this time carrying a glass half filled with dark brown liquor.

James holds the glass out for Matthew, who only shakes his head. Matthew wants to be mad at his friend for automatically offering him his preferred liquid vice but he knows the blame is only his own. The habit has become entirely too representative of Matthew.

“You know me too well, James,” Matthew looks into the fire. “But I’m afraid the gesture would be against my best interests. I am rather uncharacteristically attempting sobriety.”

James drops his extended arm, placing the glass on the low wooden table behind Matthew.

“I think that’s excellent, Math,” James says.

Matthew only grimaces. He’s sure that James is doubtful of his efforts, just as he was. It has been an agonizing two days for Matthew, but he felt a new sense of power within himself every time he denied the drink.

Neither boy is used to this much silence between them, and the longer it drags out the worse it feels. James bends down to sit beside Matthew. He pulls out his stele and taps it against Matthew’s shoulder.

“Ought to have drawn a few Iratzes by now, haven’t I?” James attempts to lighten Matthew’s mood.

“Yes, you are quite the failure this evening,” Matthew says. He leans his head back as James brings the stele to the side of his wound. A familiar gentle burn spreads across his stomach as the rune begins to work.

“I don’t blame her,” James says quietly. Matthew opens one eye to watch his friend. James is careful with the stele but his eyes show that his mind is faraway.

“It’s difficult for her,” Matthew says. “She cares for you more than you realize, but she sees the way you love Grace. She knows you’ll never love her that way.”

“That’s not true,” James snaps, somewhat harshly.

“So you don’t love Grace?”

“No- well, I mean yes,” James stammers, lowering his stele to his lap. “But I care for Cordelia.”

James looks almost pained to be saying this, his mouth slightly open in his own confusion. The mask he wore so often seemed to be slipping its way back across his face. Matthew is about to question him further when the library door opens to reveal a slightly flushed Cordelia carrying a sloshing bowl of water.

They both stand up at the sight of her. Matthew uses one hand to keep pressure on his still-healing injury, trying to hide his discomfort.

“Everything is fine,” she tries to reassure their worried expressions. “Christopher is here, he just needs help at the Institute. He said Anna has received word of a questionable downworlder gathering.”

“I’ll head there now,” James starts towards the door and Matthew follows.

“You are staying here, Matthew,” Cordelia holds out a hand to stop him before he can pass her.

“Don’t be absur-”

“You are in no condition to join them,” she cuts him off and wraps her hand around his wrist, pulling him back to the couch. Matthew gives James a disbelieving look, but he only shrugs in response.

“Please be careful, James,” Cordelia says. She gives him a tight-lipped smile.

James bows his head slightly. He hesitates at the door, watching Cordelia as if trying to convey something without words. Before he can decide on what to say, Christopher calls out from the front hall.

“James, we really should be going!” Christopher rarely sounded impatient, but it was clear in his voice now.

James gave Matthew and Cordelia one last uncertain look before dashing out of the library. It was nearly impossible for Matthew to just sit there and not follow his friends into potential danger. Cordelia still gripped his wrist as if she knew what would happen if she were to let go.

“They will be alright,” she says quietly, almost to herself. Cordelia lets go of his wrist and Matthew remains still.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Matthew asks.

“Someone had to stay behind and clean you up,” she offers him a small half-smile to show she’s teasing.

“I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself, regardless of how helpless you believe me to be,” Matthew smiles down at her.

“I never said you were helpless,” Cordelia says, pulling out a washrag from her robe’s pocket. “You did kill a Mantid demon tonight. I would hardly consider that helpless.”

“Thomas killed more than I did,” Matthew admits. He’s embarrassed to be flattered by her words, however small of a compliment they may be.

“Well you were wounded,” Cordelia squeezes the excess water from the rag after dipping it into the bowl. “And you haven’t complained at all. That must count for something.”

The damp rag is cold against Matthew’s warm skin. Cordelia gently wipes away the dried blood, being careful not to push too firmly against the cut. Matthew watches her while she concentrates. He notices the way her eyes narrow slightly as she studies his injury, notices the way her lips scrunch up to one side.

When a lock of her hair falls into her face Matthew is startled to see his own hand coming up to tuck it back behind her ear. Cordelia doesn’t flinch away from his touch, but her hand stills against his stomach.

“Your handiwork is as skilled as ever,” Matthew drops his hand to his side. “Thank you for tending to me.”

“Of course, Matthew,” Cordelia drops the rag into the bowl and smiles at him for a moment.

“If only you could repair my ruined waistcoat,” he laughs softly. “You would have loved the silk flowers.”

“I’m sure it was very beautiful,” she sounds somewhat regretful. Matthew wonders if it’s just on his behalf, as she’s very familiar with his admiration for intricate clothing.

“You called me beautiful once,” Matthew almost whispers. “The first night we met.”

Cordelia looks caught off guard at the memory. Matthew has no idea why he is bringing it up and has no idea why he won’t just sit there quietly.

“It was bold of me to say,” she blushes. “But it was the truth.”

“The truth,” Matthew muses. “It can be so cruel, can it not?”

Cordelia’s eyes flit back and forth between his, in search of something. Matthew has grown used to this look from her. One of the many things he has come to appreciate about Cordelia is that she isn’t afraid of figuring people out. She’s inquisitive and persistent, especially when it comes to her friends.

Matthew realizes they’ve been regarding each other in silence for a few minutes. She seems to notice the same thing, and she clears her throat when her gaze drops to her lap.

“You should rest,” Cordelia says. She stands and reaches for the dark wool blanket across the back of the couch. Matthew doesn’t move as she throws it across his shoulders.

“Good night, Matthew,” she offers a small smile before turning away from him. She’s halfway to the door when Matthew stands up, causing the blanket to flutter to the floor.

“Would you like the truth, as well?” his voice is too loud in the quiet of the room.

Cordelia halts but does not turn to face him. Matthew notices the way her shoulders tense under her pale robe.

“The truth is I am a horrible fool,” he laughs bitterly at himself. “I have done something so despicable that I can hardly accept that it is true.”

“Matthew, if you’re referring to the secret you confided in me-” Cordelia whirls around.

“No,” he shakes his head at her. “You’ve known that truth about me for weeks now, this is something else.”

“Then what is it?” Cordelia manages to sound both kind and demanding at the same time. “What could be so awful?”

Matthew’s heartbeat is racing now. He cannot imagine revealing this truth to her, not when she has already uncovered so much of his dark past. Matthew wants to evaporate into the air rather than face her pitying reaction, but he’s come this far and the momentum of his pulse pushes him to keep going.

“What’s awful is that I have fallen for a woman who deserves so much better than what I can give her,” his voice is empty of every emotion but anger. “The truth is she deserves so much better than what any man has ever offered her.”

Cordelia stares at him, almost hypnotically. She’s utterly still and Matthew wonders if she’s stopped breathing. He takes a step towards her.

“And the truth is I am betraying her in telling her this,” the space between them is disappearing with each shaky step he takes. “Because it is wholly unfair of me to burden her with this truth.”

“Matthew,” Cordelia breathes. Her hands are trembling slightly at her sides. Matthew has never seen Cordelia tremble, not in the face of any danger they have ever known.

“Cordelia, the truth is…I am in love with you,” Matthew feels as if all the air has left his lungs at this declaration.

Her mouth falls open as she takes in a sharp breath. He’s close enough now to notice the soft pink blush spreading across her warm, dark cheeks. Cordelia makes no move to stop him as he reaches for one of her hands.

“I realize it is cruel for me to admit this,” he says, staring at their intertwined hands. “You care for James. I am sorry for-”

“No,” her voice is shaky when she cuts off his apology. “Don’t.”

Matthew can’t look at her when he drops her hand, can’t stand there in front of her while the last shred of his heart accepts what he already truly knew.

“I’ll go,” Matthew whispers. “I am truly sorry. Goodbye, Cordelia.”

He has taken three long strides to the door when Cordelia’s hand captures one of his. Matthew is yanked backwards and spun around to face her.

“No, Matthew,” she sounds firm and unhappy. “Do not apologize to me, not for that.”

“Why not?”

“Because as much as you might hate the idea of loving me, I do not,” the words rush out of her, but she sounds sure.

“Why? How could you not-”

Cordelia’s hand shoots up to cover his mouth. Matthew furrows his brows, desperate for her to put his restless mind at ease.

“You truly don’t understand, do you Matthew?” Cordelia asks in awe. He can only shake his head, and she drops her hand. It comes to rest against his bare chest and Matthew is briefly electrified by her touch.

“Have you really not noticed how difficult it is for me to look you in the eyes?” her voice is breathless. “Have you not caught me watching you from a distance on more than one occasion?”

The rapid beat of Matthew’s heart should concern him. His hand is clammy in Cordelia’s but he doesn’t dare let go of her.

“What are you saying, Cordelia?” Matthew has to know.

“It should be quite obvious,” her eyes drop to focus on his rosy pink lips. “I’m saying that I am in love with you, too.”

A ragged breath escapes him, and he brings his free hand up to cup her face. She leans into his palm and smiles at him the way Matthew only ever dreamed that she would. His thumb strokes her cheek while he stares at her incredulously.

“Would it be unfair of me to be bold once again?” Cordelia asks.

“I would hardly expect you to be anything else,” he states simply. His voice is quiet from the shock of her words. Her eyes flutter shut for a second and her tongue juts out enough to wet her lips.

“Then I would like for you to kiss me now,” Matthew almost couldn’t hear her over the blood pounding in his ears.

Her words finally register with him and he can’t contain his grin. His hand slips behind her head to tangle in her hair and Cordelia’s breath catches in her throat. It’s all the motivation he needs to push his lips against hers.

Matthew feels as if he’s lept off the side of Blackfriars Bridge. The only thing anchoring him to this world is his grip on the back of Cordelia’s neck. Their lips are unbearably gentle against each other’s, as if the gravity of the moment restrains them.

Cordelia moves one hand to grasp Matthew’s hip and pull him against her. A quiet moan falls off his lips and he pulls back enough to take in her reaction. Her eyes are wild and bright as she studies him too.

“Kiss me again,” Cordelia’s voice is only slightly shaky. Matthew is still too stunned by the fact that he has kissed her at all to move.

Cordelia lets out an impatient huff before she wraps both arms around his neck, kissing him harder than before and without any hesitation. Her vigor sparks an immediate response in Matthew.

His arms lock around her waist to erase the remaining distance between them. Cordelia’s hand twines through Matthew’s messy blonde hair and she tugs the strands lightly. It is a maddening sensation that causes him to gasp with pleasure.

His reaction makes Cordelia smile proudly against his mouth. Matthew uses the moment to run his tongue against her bottom lip, and her hand tightens in his hair.

“Cordelia,” Matthew’s voice is rough and pleading.

He needs to hold her tighter, to feel her soft and toned frame entirely against his. Matthew’s hands move to grasp the back of her thighs. He lifts her up and her legs wrap around his waist gracefully.

Their kiss is unbroken as Matthew leads them to the nearest couch.

Cordelia’s tongue strokes against Matthew’s as her hands roam his scarred shoulders, his muscled chest. Her touch somehow soothes his frantic thoughts and ignites them simultaneously.

Matthew pulls Cordelia down to straddle his lap when they reach the couch. He holds her hips with enough pressure to leave bruises if he’s not careful. Cordelia pulls back and gazes down at him, her long hair burning a beautiful shade of garnet in the light from the fire.

Her neck is exposed to him alluringly, begging him to taste it. When he bites it softly Cordelia moans and grips the tops of his arms. The sound is fuel to his fire, encouraging him to suck the skin at the base of her throat and lick away the pain.

“I will need several Iratzes now, thanks to you,” she says. Matthew can hear the smile on her face.

“It would be my pleasure to assist,” his breath fans across her neck and he’s pleased by the way she shivers at the heat.

Matthew kisses his way up Cordelia’s throat, across her jawline, under the shell of her ear. Her skin is warming rapidly under his touch and her quiet panting increases when his hands roam the expanse of her exposed thighs.

“I have waited so long for you to do this,” Cordelia admits, sounding relieved.

“Not as long as I,” his hand moves to the small of her back, shifting her against him desperately. “I have dreamt of you since the night I watched you dance at the Hell Ruelle.”

Cordelia lets out an airy laugh at the memory. The movement shakes her shoulders slightly, causing her robe to slip down her arms. Her dark skin glows in the firelight under her pale blue nightgown.

Matthew’s lips trail down across her collarbone, leaving a path of gentle bitemarks and wet kisses. He cannot comprehend the reality of this glorious moment. The feeling of her palms against his neck is a fever dream, the weight of her body on top of his is a heavenly hallucination.

When Matthew’s mouth reaches the skin above her left breast he hesitates. Cordelia senses his apprehension, and makes it disappear when she gently pushes his head towards her. He places a tender kiss there before his teeth sink in faintly.

“Matthew,” she whimpers. His name tumbling from her lips causes him to bite down harder, and she arches against him.

Her grip on his shoulders would be painful if he wasn’t already on fire. His tongue darts out to soothe the bite, a light red mark already blossoming there.

Matthew pulls back to admire her. Cordelia’s eyes are lidded, the corners of her swollen lips turned up softly in a sated smile. He reaches up to twine a finger around her brilliant red hair. She brings a hand up to cup his chin.

“This feels so natural,” she sounded amazed. “It’s as if this could be our hundredth kiss.”

Matthew chuckles and presses his lips against her jaw. He’s thrilled to hear her say it so freely and so easily.

“Well I never let myself believe I’d be able to kiss you at all,” Matthew says. “But now I’ll dream of our hundredth, our thousandth, and every kiss after that.”

Cordelia laughs and drops her forehead to his before saying, “Don’t bother dreaming of our second.”

Her soft lips slant against his and he cups the back of her neck to hold her there. Matthew always took pride in his imagination, but this lust erupting between them was far greater than any fantasy he had ever envisioned.

They burn together in newfound pleasure and acceptance. The fire behind the grate pales in comparison to their fevered discovery of each other.

Their hands roam across each other, caressing every surface they can access. Every kiss sparks an ember within his heart. Every brush of her hand against his skin fills his hollowness with a molten bliss. Matthew lets Cordelia’s presence incinerate the wall of ice he built over time around his soul.

He had forgotten what it felt like, warmth.

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