❝tonight we drink to youth and holding fast to truth❞
sunt pueri pueri pueri puerilia tractant | axis powers hetalia | 1200 words | rome ; hellas | r |
in which hellas teaches an empire on the verge of greatness a thing or two about the world.
de-anoning from the kink meme.
sunt pueri pueri pueri puerilia tractant;
The amber lamp light flickers off of her brilliantly green eyes as she throws back her head and laughs, a full, rich sound. “I’m sorry,” she says after a moment, covering her mouth with one hand, “come again?”
Rome’s olive skin turns a patchy red over his cheekbones, but nevertheless he puffs out his chest and crosses his arms over one another, saying, “You heard me.”
“Yes, I did,” Hellas admits, her lips curving into a gentle smile now that her laughter has died down, “but I’m not sure if you know exactly what you’re asking for, boyo.”
“I’m asking you to join my empire,” Rome declares pompously. “I’m giving you an opportunity, Hellas.”
“Wait a minute,” Hellas objects, pressing one finger against his lips. Rome’s eyes widen at their proximity, and his gaze wanders to the tight fit of white fabric over her firm, taunt breasts. “A minute ago, you acted like this was a proposal of marriage.”
“I-it was,” Rome stutters, mentally backpedaling and taking a step back at the same time. Hellas catches his wrist, however, and pulls him towards her.
“Was?” she asks demurely. “So what is this? Love, or politics?”
“C-can’t it be both?” Rome asks incredulously. He regains some ground, plants his feet. “It is both.”
“Oh, no.” Hellas wags one finger at him. “Don’t mix business with pleasure, Rome. It’s the worst thing you can do. Keep your politics and your sex separate.”
“S-sex?” Rome sputters. “Who said anything about sex?” The blush is now making its way rapidly down his neck, and he claps one hand over his mouth, cursing his own rashness.
Hellas cocks her head to one side and her smile widens crookedly. She lets out a light, airy laugh. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”
“I know everything,” Rome manages to say with some dignity.
“Oh, of course,” Hellas concedes idly, with a wave of her hand. “But do you know about this?” And before he can answer one way or another, she cups his face in her hands and kisses his lips forcefully, pressing down so hard his knees go weak.
After a moment, she brushes him away and steps back. “Well?” she asks ruefully.
Rome sways, dizzy. His entire face has gone red, and his amber eyes are misty as he looks at her. A boyish, stupid grin hangs off of his lips. “H-how…how did you do that?”
Hellas laughs, the sound of the waves of the Aegean roaring against the coast. “Oh, my dear,” she says softly. Then she pulls him close, positioning his hands against her hips. “Hold me like this,” she instructs. “And then, kiss me like this,” she brushes her lips against his temples, “and this,” and then she licks the skin of neck, “and this,” her teeth clamp down on his lower lip.
Rome repeats each motion-though he has to stand on tip-toe to reach her temple-and then, after he has bitten her lip, claims her mouth with his, forcing his tongue in to run across her teeth.
“Oh,” she laughs, when he is through, “do we have a fast learner here, or what?”
“I’ve always considered myself the best of pupils,” he admits. “Of course, anyone can do well…with the right teacher.”
“I have a long history of those,” she says, one finger against her lips. “But my students have a tendency to get…worn out.”
“Oh, believe me, Hellas-endurance I have in spades.”
“If you’re sure-”
“I’m positive.”
“Then what, pray tell, are you still doing in those clothes?”
- - -
He wanders clumsily over her body, his hands skillful but inexperienced. When he comes to her breasts, he blushes profusely, but she places her hands over his and holds them there, while she leans in to lock her legs in a circle around his.
Rome places both of his strong, battle-scarred hands against her shoulders and pushes her down against the soft fabric of the pallet they lie on. Her dark, curling hair provides her with a pillow and frames her face, making her green eyes seem ever more feline as she gazes indulgently up at him.
“Why did you stop?” she asks, and he finds that he is frozen, braced against her.
“U-umm,” he pauses, biting down on his lower lip.
“Yes?” she prompts.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says at length, with a lusty sigh.
“Yes,” she says, not bothering to deny it. “And that’s why you’re supposed to…” Her voice trails off, but her eyes flick downwards suggestively.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says. “It just, seems wrong, somehow.”
“Come again?”
“You know the stories, don’t you? Diana had a man devoured by dogs just for uncovering her nakedness. And Demeter turned a man into an ass when he forced himself upon her. So…how dare I, do this?”
“Rome, I’m no goddess.” Hellas sighs, arching her neck backwards. He’s not the first to akin her to one, but she’s grown weary of the comparison. “And besides-only three goddesses took pleasure in virginity, only one in marital fidelity. If anything, we’re following in the others’, the majority’s, example.”
“I suppose,” he mumbles, but then she reaches up and gently traces her fingers along his cheek.
“Don’t think of me as Artemis,” she tells him. “See me as Aphrodite, instead.”
In actuality, she’s a blend of the two. There is as much huntress in her as seductress, and Rome knows it, full well. Its part of the reason he is so enamored of her.
“Rome,” she says, losing patience, “come on.”
“Alright,” he says wryly, plucking up his courage. He descends upon her, his lips against her throat as he takes her. Her mouth presses against his skin, biting down when he enters her.
For Rome, it’s a moment of conquest and accomplishment. He rolls off of her, but she grabs his hand and pulls him back, so that now they lie side by side. No longer on top of her, he loses his dominance and follows her lead again, descending to the easier level of passionate kisses and hands exploring soft skin.
- - -
“Not bad,” Hellas says loosely. “In fact, quite good.”
“Not great?” he asks, teasingly, confident now that the deed is done.
“Hmmm,” she mulls it over, licking her lips. “Not great-amazing.”
“Does this mean that you’ll accept my offer?”
“Of marriage?” She looks blankly at him as he nods.
“…no.” She sees his disappointment and winces. “You’re a lovely boy, Rome,” she amends, but referring to him as such does nothing to help soften the blow. “But you are but a boy, still. I couldn’t possibly…marry…”
“And if I were a man?” he asks, and suddenly his voice is huskier, deeper-that of a man.
“There would be no question.”
“Then I will wait,” he declares. “Though I warn you, Hellas, that I don’t make it a habit to wait on my women.”
“Your women?” she asks dryly, punching him in the shoulder. “Putting on airs already?”
He laughs, his boyish, good-natured laugh, and she pulls him close again.
original fill → &hearts
›› the title is a roman proverb, which translates to "Boys are boys and boys will act like boys," or the ancient equivalent of "boys will be boys."
›› this was set before rome conquered greece in 146 bc, perhaps around 188 bc, with the peace of apamaea.
›› i take rome to be about sixteen to eighteen, physically, at this point, while hellas is between twenty-four and twenty-seven.
in which hellas teaches an empire on the verge of greatness a thing or two about the world.
de-anoning from the kink meme.
sunt pueri pueri pueri puerilia tractant;
The amber lamp light flickers off of her brilliantly green eyes as she throws back her head and laughs, a full, rich sound. “I’m sorry,” she says after a moment, covering her mouth with one hand, “come again?”
Rome’s olive skin turns a patchy red over his cheekbones, but nevertheless he puffs out his chest and crosses his arms over one another, saying, “You heard me.”
“Yes, I did,” Hellas admits, her lips curving into a gentle smile now that her laughter has died down, “but I’m not sure if you know exactly what you’re asking for, boyo.”
“I’m asking you to join my empire,” Rome declares pompously. “I’m giving you an opportunity, Hellas.”
“Wait a minute,” Hellas objects, pressing one finger against his lips. Rome’s eyes widen at their proximity, and his gaze wanders to the tight fit of white fabric over her firm, taunt breasts. “A minute ago, you acted like this was a proposal of marriage.”
“I-it was,” Rome stutters, mentally backpedaling and taking a step back at the same time. Hellas catches his wrist, however, and pulls him towards her.
“Was?” she asks demurely. “So what is this? Love, or politics?”
“C-can’t it be both?” Rome asks incredulously. He regains some ground, plants his feet. “It is both.”
“Oh, no.” Hellas wags one finger at him. “Don’t mix business with pleasure, Rome. It’s the worst thing you can do. Keep your politics and your sex separate.”
“S-sex?” Rome sputters. “Who said anything about sex?” The blush is now making its way rapidly down his neck, and he claps one hand over his mouth, cursing his own rashness.
Hellas cocks her head to one side and her smile widens crookedly. She lets out a light, airy laugh. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”
“I know everything,” Rome manages to say with some dignity.
“Oh, of course,” Hellas concedes idly, with a wave of her hand. “But do you know about this?” And before he can answer one way or another, she cups his face in her hands and kisses his lips forcefully, pressing down so hard his knees go weak.
After a moment, she brushes him away and steps back. “Well?” she asks ruefully.
Rome sways, dizzy. His entire face has gone red, and his amber eyes are misty as he looks at her. A boyish, stupid grin hangs off of his lips. “H-how…how did you do that?”
Hellas laughs, the sound of the waves of the Aegean roaring against the coast. “Oh, my dear,” she says softly. Then she pulls him close, positioning his hands against her hips. “Hold me like this,” she instructs. “And then, kiss me like this,” she brushes her lips against his temples, “and this,” and then she licks the skin of neck, “and this,” her teeth clamp down on his lower lip.
Rome repeats each motion-though he has to stand on tip-toe to reach her temple-and then, after he has bitten her lip, claims her mouth with his, forcing his tongue in to run across her teeth.
“Oh,” she laughs, when he is through, “do we have a fast learner here, or what?”
“I’ve always considered myself the best of pupils,” he admits. “Of course, anyone can do well…with the right teacher.”
“I have a long history of those,” she says, one finger against her lips. “But my students have a tendency to get…worn out.”
“Oh, believe me, Hellas-endurance I have in spades.”
“If you’re sure-”
“I’m positive.”
“Then what, pray tell, are you still doing in those clothes?”
- - -
He wanders clumsily over her body, his hands skillful but inexperienced. When he comes to her breasts, he blushes profusely, but she places her hands over his and holds them there, while she leans in to lock her legs in a circle around his.
Rome places both of his strong, battle-scarred hands against her shoulders and pushes her down against the soft fabric of the pallet they lie on. Her dark, curling hair provides her with a pillow and frames her face, making her green eyes seem ever more feline as she gazes indulgently up at him.
“Why did you stop?” she asks, and he finds that he is frozen, braced against her.
“U-umm,” he pauses, biting down on his lower lip.
“Yes?” she prompts.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says at length, with a lusty sigh.
“Yes,” she says, not bothering to deny it. “And that’s why you’re supposed to…” Her voice trails off, but her eyes flick downwards suggestively.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says. “It just, seems wrong, somehow.”
“Come again?”
“You know the stories, don’t you? Diana had a man devoured by dogs just for uncovering her nakedness. And Demeter turned a man into an ass when he forced himself upon her. So…how dare I, do this?”
“Rome, I’m no goddess.” Hellas sighs, arching her neck backwards. He’s not the first to akin her to one, but she’s grown weary of the comparison. “And besides-only three goddesses took pleasure in virginity, only one in marital fidelity. If anything, we’re following in the others’, the majority’s, example.”
“I suppose,” he mumbles, but then she reaches up and gently traces her fingers along his cheek.
“Don’t think of me as Artemis,” she tells him. “See me as Aphrodite, instead.”
In actuality, she’s a blend of the two. There is as much huntress in her as seductress, and Rome knows it, full well. Its part of the reason he is so enamored of her.
“Rome,” she says, losing patience, “come on.”
“Alright,” he says wryly, plucking up his courage. He descends upon her, his lips against her throat as he takes her. Her mouth presses against his skin, biting down when he enters her.
For Rome, it’s a moment of conquest and accomplishment. He rolls off of her, but she grabs his hand and pulls him back, so that now they lie side by side. No longer on top of her, he loses his dominance and follows her lead again, descending to the easier level of passionate kisses and hands exploring soft skin.
- - -
“Not bad,” Hellas says loosely. “In fact, quite good.”
“Not great?” he asks, teasingly, confident now that the deed is done.
“Hmmm,” she mulls it over, licking her lips. “Not great-amazing.”
“Does this mean that you’ll accept my offer?”
“Of marriage?” She looks blankly at him as he nods.
“…no.” She sees his disappointment and winces. “You’re a lovely boy, Rome,” she amends, but referring to him as such does nothing to help soften the blow. “But you are but a boy, still. I couldn’t possibly…marry…”
“And if I were a man?” he asks, and suddenly his voice is huskier, deeper-that of a man.
“There would be no question.”
“Then I will wait,” he declares. “Though I warn you, Hellas, that I don’t make it a habit to wait on my women.”
“Your women?” she asks dryly, punching him in the shoulder. “Putting on airs already?”
He laughs, his boyish, good-natured laugh, and she pulls him close again.
original fill → &hearts
›› the title is a roman proverb, which translates to "Boys are boys and boys will act like boys," or the ancient equivalent of "boys will be boys."
›› this was set before rome conquered greece in 146 bc, perhaps around 188 bc, with the peace of apamaea.
›› i take rome to be about sixteen to eighteen, physically, at this point, while hellas is between twenty-four and twenty-seven.