Vodka Scented Roses
Title: Vodka Scented Roses
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: France/Russia
Rating: NC-17/M
Summary: France tries to pursuade a very insecure Russia to give it up and sleep with him. He loves him, he truly does, but Russia has a hard time accepting this fact.
Notes: Done for the Hetalia kink meme~
“Russia isn't all that he seems, you know,” England mumbled as he placed his cup back on the saucer before resting it on the table that separated himself from the other nation. “I think you need to cut your loses with him and admit that there are some people that not even France can romance.”
France let out a long sigh, holding his wine glass up in the air. The colour was rich; beautiful even. It made his mouth water with anticipation but he would let it breathe for a moment longer.
“I don't even understand what you see in that creep. You've been on what, ten dates with the man and he won't put out. Maybe it's better that you just leave him alone,” England continued, crossing his arms with a frown. “Only you would go to this much trouble to get your end away.”
“It's not just about the sex, dearest England. Going so long without being intimate with the person I am dating, it has caused me to see them in a completely different light,” France started as he brought the glass to his nose, inhaling the aroma. “I feel something very strong for Russia. He is beautiful in his own special way.”
England regarded the blonde for a moment. He didn't believe in gossiping, that much was true but he also felt there were certain things that people should divulge with each other when dating. He pondered for a moment before he sucked his lip into his mouth and sat forward.
“I have some information for you, if you do truly see him in that light,” England began, placing his hands on his knees as he leaned even further. “Russia and I shared a very awkward moment a couple of weeks ago.”
France raised an eyebrow, immediately sitting forward himself. “Did he make love to you? I am all for a healthy sexual appetite but to give it up to you and not me...well, I just find the mere thought vulgar.”
“Shut up, idiot. I wouldn't be with a man like him.”
“You like them stuffed full of hamburgers, eh?” France remarked, taking a sip from his glass. Divine; just as he had imagined, although now he was salivating for a different reason. The mere mention of Russia was enough to get his blood pumping.
“Do you want to know or not?” England flopped back with a huff, knocking the table with his foot. The tea in the cup sloshed back and forth, spilling into the saucer and the liquid had calmed down before England verbally nudged France. “Well? Do you or don't you?”
France stared at the smaller man, unable to take his eyes off the serious expression he held. Normally, their lunches were full of bickering and meaningless banter but for England to have something interesting to say that would warrant such a stern expression? Well, he most certainly did want to hear it.
“Do tell then, especially if it involves my beloved Russia,” he purred, taking another sip of his wine.
“Word on the street is that Russia thinks you are only dating him to 'become one with him', as he so nicely put it. He fears you will toss him aside as soon as you are done, like you have with all your previous partners.” England paused, glaring at France harshly enough to imply that he was still sore about the night they spent together. “He is going keeping his legs closed for a while so those blue balls of yours? You better get some underwear to match the shade because they aren't going anywhere any time soon.”
France downed the rest of his wine. Russia had never struck him as the insecure type. Every date they had been on, Russia had been so confident. Ordering food (on one occasion, he ordered France's food for him), drinking alcohol, wearing something other than his usual attire (although the scarf had remained. The conversations had been rich, the silences comfortable.
However, now he thought about it, Russia did always move their conversations away from anything sexual. He did always find an excuse not to kiss France at the end of the date. Always blushed when France ran his foot up his leg; touched his hand on the table.
“But he's an adult man. Surely he isn't so childish as to hold out just to prove a point that he is not one to be fucked with?” France reached over and took hold of the bottle of wine, swiftly pouring himself another glass.
England shook his head. “He told me something else to. Now, you can never tell him I said this because... well, unlike you, I value my life and I don't fuck with things as scary as... Russia.” He took in a deep breath, glancing around the garden. There was no one around that he could see, and the only person he knew that hid in bushes on a regular basis was himself.
“Out with it!” France demanded, taking another sip. He allowed the wine to linger in his mouth; the taste filled all of his senses as he awaited England's big revelation.
“He has never been to bed with another man,” England started, looking up for a moment as he stroked his chin. “In fact, unless he has been shagging his sisters, I don't think he has ever been with a woman either, but he only confirmed the former.”
France choked slightly on the wine as he held back from spitting it out at the other nation. “My my...” he uttered. The thought of Russia being as pure as the untouched snow that lay on his vast nation was enough to make his blood rush southwards. “What else has he said?” Curiosity had got the best of him now.
“He said he was starting to feel things for you that... made his heart beat once again. By this point, I was naturally scared shitless. He just started speaking to me one day, I didn't have the nerve to interrupt him,” England muttered, blushing deeply as he recalled how pathetic he acted around the larger nation.
Despite the way England had relayed the information to him, France couldn't help but feel his heart miss a beat. He had been feelings strong emotions towards Russia for a while, even before he had accepted to go on dates with him... but to know that his feelings were reciprocated? It made his entire body cry out with longing. He longed to speak with Russia, discuss their feelings and rejoice.
As his mind ran through a selection of bouquets he wished to deliver to Russia, he stopped suddenly.
“Wait, he told you all this... why hasn't he told me?”
England rolled his eyes. “Because he is worried that you will just say you love him to bed him. After all, that is also something you do very frequently.”
“Name one time I've done that,” France said, waving his free hand as he took a sip of wine.
“Oh, Romano, I love you more than words can describe. Please allow me to express my feelings with my body. I love you like I have never loved anyone before~” England mimicked France's voice, waving his hands around in a flamboyant fashion.
France felt his face heat up slightly as his own line was repeated back to him. “Where did you hear that? Who told you I said that?”
“Spain overheard it when you spouted that bullshit to poor Romano in the stables at his house.” He lifted his leg and placed it on his knee, clasping his hands together and resting on them as he stared over the table. “I tell you this as someone who hates you, be careful with Russia. He may seem like a strong man but he is like the rest of us. Being alone all that time in the past really left him feeling vulnerable and as much as he scares me, I don't desire to see him get hurt.”
“Would I ever hurt anyone?”
England grunted slightly. “Seriously, I do not want World War Three because you just wanted to get your leg over...and remember, you didn't hear anything about this from me. I'm already a mess as it is, what with the recession. I don't need problems with Russia right now.”
“Ah, you think such bad things of me,” France replied with a smirk, deciding to say nothing more on the matter. He had all the information he needed now.
--
After considering a variety of venues for their next date, France decided that Russia would probably be more comfortable on his own home turf.
However, when he arrived at the door, he was greeted by the Russia everyone else knew and feared. He wasn't scared though, part of him found the other nation's personality endearing, the other part of him found it arousing (but then he found 90% of things arousing).
“You really shouldn't have come here,” Russia stated bluntly, towering over France from the doorway, a glum expression on his face.
France smiled and whipped out a bunch of roses from behind him back, along with a vintage bottle of wine. Even if he felt differently about Russia, he wouldn't change his techniques. They were proven to be effective. Maybe they hadn't got him very far already but now he was armed with precious information that would help him adjust said techniques to the situation.
He leaned over, attempting to kiss Russia on the lips only to have the larger man turn his face just enough for his lips to land on his cold cheek.
“You really should not have come here...” Russia repeated, nervously looking around as he closed the door after France invited himself in.
“Nonsense. I have a desire to see my beloved and I have something I need to say to you,” France said, placing the flowers on the sideboard as he looked around the entrance hall. If he had been here before, he couldn't remember it. “Something that could not wait.”
Russia shuffled past France, beckoning for him to follow. The house was dusty; cold. If he had have known he was having guests, he would have asked someone to clean but people so very rarely visited him that he stopped asking for the house to be cleaned every day; stopped asking for every fire in every room to be lit.
“What is it you wanted to say? I hate to be rude with you but I have work to be doing. We have an arranged date tomorrow,” he said with a slight smile as he brought that up, his heart beating slightly faster as he thought about dinner at one of Frances many restaurants. So warm; so intimate.
France led Russia over to the fire. “Sit down on the rug. It will set the scene for this.”
“If you're planning on trying to sleep with me on a rug in my own home, you can just stop right now,” Russia mumbled, taking a seat on the floor, keeping at least a metre away from the man he was dating.
“Now, would I really be so tacky?” He replied, gracefully dropping down onto the rug, narrowly avoiding Russia's lap, although he did place one leg over the other man's thighs and neither of them made any effort to remove it.
Russia nodded, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face. “I wouldn't put it past you.”
“Let us be serious for a moment,” France began, shifting closer, both his legs now over Russia's lap. “We have been seeing each other for quite some time, no? Well, I desire-”
“You can stop your sentence right there,” Russia interrupted, pushing France's legs off him. “If you're going to say something lewd, you can just leave.” He attempted to scramble to his feet, blushing heavily as the thought of him and France being intimate crept into his mind, blushing even further as France grabbed his coattail and yanked him back down again.
He found himself in France's lap, and although he knew that he weighed a lot, he made no immediate attempt to move. He was paralysed with embarrassment and the way the other man was grinning down at him only darkened his cheeks further.
“Unless you think love is lewd, then what I have to say shouldn't be a problem.” France slid a rose out from his sleeve and smiled, running the flower down Russia's face tenderly before he carried on speaking. “I have come to realise that my feelings for you are greater than I had previously thought. However, before I make such a verbal commitment, I desire to know how you feel about me.”
Russia regarded France for a moment before he turned his face away, still blushing furiously. His heart was racing; his mind working overtime. He felt something for France, something very strong but he couldn't voice his feelings. It wasn't in his nature to do such a thing.
“Tell me how you feel about me, Russia. You're giving me such mixed signals.” France said as he continued to caress Russia's face with the rose.
“I...I don't know. This is all so sudden.” Although it wasn't. Ever since their first date, Russia had started to feel things he had only read about in books....but he couldn't bring himself to say it. As far as he knew, France was only after him for one reason.
He shifted uncomfortably, trying to sit up, only to have France pull him down into his lap again. The closeness made him feel...weird. He couldn't shake off the feeling that made him blush right to his ears. He didn't know what it was, how would he? He never made it obvious but his experience in such matters was non-existent,
“Surely you could sense that this is just more than just a schoolboy crush for me.” France drawled, moving the rose onto Russia's chest. He longed to see what was under the large coat. The suits the man had worn to their dates had been divine but... he longed to see even more. He couldn't even recall a time he had seen anything more than the skin on his face. He always wore that scarf; those gloves, despite any formal attire he would adorn.
Russia looked down at the rose. “Why do you like me?” The uncharacteristic words left his mouth before he even had a chance to think them over.
France stared down at the larger man. “I don't.” He paused, instantly noticing a flicker of hurt on Russia's face. “I love you and I love you for many different reasons. You're very attractive. Intelligent. Powerful. I long to be intimate with you. I think you are simply delicious...”
“You don't mean that. I've heard you say these things to other people. Your words are so empty; so meaningless,” Russia mumbled, taking hold of the rose and scrambling up.
France didn't attempt to stop him as he moved over to the fire, put off by the suddenly cold breeze that blew over him. Instead, he watched as Russia carelessly discarded the rose into the fire.
“How can I prove to you that I love you?” France asked. He had never said such a thing before. The mere notion of questioning love was unfathomable, especially when it came to him. He wasn't lying when he said he loved people. Sure, he may have only loved them for a few minutes, a few hours or a few days but it was still love and he cherished all his romantic memories.
Russia let out a long sigh. “You can leave me alone...” He pulled his scarf up and over his mouth, nuzzling the soft wool. He didn't want to continue the conversation. It was over as far as he was concerned.
It was then that he felt a chest against his back. Two arms snaked their way around his waist and he could see France's face out of the corner of his eye.
“You may not believe me, but I do love you,” he whispered, pressing his lips against Russia's cheek. “And no matter how long it takes for you to believe me, I shall wait.”
--
Russia raised his hand nervously, his fist shaking as he willed himself to bang on the door but he couldn't do it.
It had been nearly a month since he had last spoken to France. He had blown him off, ignored his calls, refused to see him when he visited... he had even left the countless letters he had sent unopened on his sideboard, along with the wilting flowers and various bottles of alcohol.
He felt so stupid. He couldn't take back how childish he had acted. It was too late for that but he could make amends for his idiotic behaviour. He was able to do that much.
Taking in another deep breath, he allowed his fist to collide with the door and waited.
The minute between allowing his hand to drop to his side and the door opening felt like an eternity. He wanted to see France. He didn't believe that France truly loved him but he was an adult now. Love wasn't the issue here. It was sex. He knew it was all his fault too. If he could just get over it...
“Russia?” A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the face that accompanied the voice.
“France... I... I'm sorry... I...”
“I told you I'd wait for you,” France said as he stepped aside to allow Russia into his home. “And wait for you I did.”
Russia hung his head as he meandered inside. He couldn't bare to look him in the eyes. “I know you said that.,” he uttered, pausing in the entrance hall. He had been to France's home many times before, after all, France was always eager to invite people in.
“You ignored my phone calls, my letters...” France started as he leant in to kiss Russia, only to stop as Russia didn't move. “You're not avoiding me?”
Russia blushed slightly, placing his hands on France's chest. “A-about that...maybe you love me, maybe you don't but...”
France shook his head, placing his index finger on Russia's lips. “Hush. Tell me, why did you come here? I would have waited another month; another year; another decade for you.”
“I think it's pretty obvious why I came here,” he replied, although he wasn't exactly sure himself. He could feel his confidence barrier he had put up around France over so many dates crumbling. The dates had been a shield, every conversation they shared had strengthened his defences. He was certain he had masked any insecurities he held... but the instant those three tiny words had been mentioned, his barrier had come crashing down and he had failed to build them back up even with a month apart.
“I want to hear you say it,” France whispered as he leant further forward and raised a hand to the side of Russia's head, gently running his fingers through the locks. “Tell me why you came here.”
Russia felt his face heat up even more as France wound his hair around his fingers, tugging it ever so slightly. “P-please, don't be like this with me. I only came over here to speak to you. N-nothing more,” he stammered, freeing himself from France’s grip and stepping backwards.
He could see the lust in France’s eyes and he felt that his own expression gave his feelings away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want France, he was human after all (despite what the other nations thought about him). At the same time though, he couldn’t stop the niggling thought at the back of the mind. France had been with so many other men, so many other women... he didn’t want to end up just being another name on his long list of conquests.
“Now, why would you come here just to speak to me? Surely you would have just picked up the phone... to want to see me in person...” He approached Russia and before either of them realised it, they had run out of floor space and the wall ceased both of their movements. “It implies you wanted something a little more than conversation.”
Russia blushed even further, raising his hand to adjust his scarf. He was hot; hotter than he had ever been in his life. The way France made his intentions so obvious was intimidating but at the same time, it made him want the other man. He had never felt this way about anyone before; he had never wanted anyone before.
“I...I really don’t think I can do that,” Russia mumbled, trying to ignore France’s breathe on his face as he leaned in closer. It smelled like wine. Was he drunk? He couldn’t tell. He was just acting the exact same way as he usually did.
“Is there something physically stopping you?” France whispered, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Russia’s cheek as he ran his hand down the larger man’s chest, further south, sliding between his coat before he placed his palm against his crotch. “No, nothing wrong physically.”
“D-dont touch me there!” Russia gasped, his body tensing at the slightest touch. He didn’t want to be touched there first. Not without a hug; not without a kiss...
He tilted his head slightly, allowing small moan to drop from his lips as France applied pressure. He wanted to be kissed but he couldn’t bring himself to make the first move. He had only ever kissed his sisters on their cheeks’ on their foreheads; on their hands. He had never kissed anyone romantically. He wasn’t even sure how. If France knew what a child he truly was...
He grabbed hold of France’s hand, ceasing it’s movements. Locking eyes with the blonde, he did his best to urge him to kiss him but France simply stared at him. He wasn’t sure what France wanted from him. Did he want him to take the initiative? Or was this because he had already rejected him so many times before...
“Could you perhaps...” Russia started, unable to continue staring at the other man. He was too nervous; too shy. He wanted to bolt but was was cornered. “I...”
“Do you not want me like I want you?” France asked, sliding his hands under Russia’s coat and placing them on his hips. “Come now, you can tell me anything.”
Russia nuzzled his scarf, covering his mouth once again as France moved in closer; their bodies almost touching. “I’ve never done this before,” he blurted out into the fabric in one breath, blushing a deeper shade of red as he admitting it aloud to such an experienced man.
“Never done what?” France questioned, acting coy. He already knew all this from what England had said but he needed Russia to be comfortable enough to say it to him.
“Y-You know what I mean... don’t make me say it.”
France shook his head, running his fingers along the scarf, tugging the fabric down slightly, revealing Russia’s lips. “Say it. Say what you’ve never done; say what you want. Say you want me to do it.”
Russia stared at France. He was pushing him but it didn’t make him anymore nervous. If anything, it put him at ease. His overconfidence soothed his insecurities and he wasn’t sure why. “I’ve never... kissed anyone before,” he uttered, unable to blush anymore.
“You...you have... never been kissed?” France said slowly, backing off a little as Russia looked at him nervously; expectantly; needy. He couldn’t do this here. It had to be more... memorable. If this would be Russia’s first kiss, it would be as perfect as he could make it. He outstretched his hand, signalling for Russia to take it. “Follow me.”
--
Russia’s eyes sparkled as he gazed out into the distance. Tiny lights speckled the ground from the balcony on which they stood. “It’s beautiful,” he uttered under his breath and he moved to the railings, leaning over slightly to see more of the view.
“The view of France has nothing on that of Russia,” he said with a suave tone, spinning Russia around and pushing him slightly against the railings. “You are one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my entire life and I desire you like no other. Please, let me love you like you deserve to be loved.”
Russia couldn’t sense a lie; his words were so fluid, his expression so serious as he spoke. The words he said, even if they were lies, made him feel something and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I want you to kiss me,” he said as he leaned forward. “Kiss me now.”
He braced himself as France moved slightly. He was frozen; paralysed all over as the blonde tilted his head ever so slightly and smirked. His mind went crazy for a moment. The smirk. Did that mean he had let the other man win? Was this all just some sort of game? Was France mentally adding his name to his long list of conquests?
Before he could dwell on it any further, he felt a sudden warmth on his lips. France’s eyes were closed and he followed suit, allowing his eyelids to flutter shut as he returned the kiss as his mind told him to. He parted his lips slightly, capturing France’s lower lip between his own. His tongue waited patiently in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what to do with it... he waited for France to deepen the kiss but it never happened.
Instead, France broke the kiss and smiled. “Do you want more?”
Russia nodded with a meek smile on his face. “B-but please, go slow...”
“If you want me to stop at any time, just say so.”
--
“Don’t do that!” Russia cried out as France slid his coat open as he lay on the bed. “I don’t want you to see my body.” He placed his arms across his chest, turning his face to the side to avoid France’s gaze from above him.
France chuckled lightly, placing his hands on Russia’s wrists and willing his arms away all too easily. He ran his finger down the series of buttons on the crisp white shirt. “Why wouldn’t you want me to see your beautiful body?” He asked, taking the knot of the tie between his fingers and pulling it open with one swift pull. “For us to be intimate, you must be comfortable enough to show me your body. I can show you mine first, if it would make you more comfortable?”
“That wouldn’t make any difference. You have no flaws... My body is covered with imperfections that will disgust you. Please, don’t make me show you my body.”
Neither of them spoke as France frowned and sat back, resting his body on Russia’s thighs. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, letting out a long sigh as he discarded it. Taking hold of Russia’s hand, he raised it to his chest. “Feel this here? That’s a scar from a sword.” He paused, lowering Russia’s hand to his ribcage. “That’s a series of bullet wounds.” He lowered his hand even further, allowing it to rest just at the waistband of his trousers.
“Enough,” Russia snapped, grabbing his hand back. He didn’t want every flaw of France pointed out. When he saw France, he only saw perfection. “I don’t care that you have scars or wounds...”
“And I don’t care about your imperfections either,” he said, placing his finger to Russia’s lip for a second time. His other hand rested on Russia’s stomach for a moment before he started making light work of the buttons. He could see fear in Russia’s eyes as he slid his hand onto bare skin. “Don’t be afraid,” he mumbled, running his hand up Russia’s skin, surprised by how hot it was; by how firm it was.
“I don’t like this... it feels weird,” Russia said quietly, raising his hand to his own mouth to bite down on his knuckles as France’s fingers found his right nipple and toyed with it gently, his other hand quickly finding his left one. “Ah! Feels strange!” He cried out, closing his eyes tightly.
“Feels good?” France asked, lowering his face to Russia’s chest before he ran his tongue around the right nipple, teasing the nub as Russia let out a small whimper. He could already feel the result of his actions pressing against his own stomach.
“N-no, it’s embarrassing. Please, stop.”
“What would you rather I do?”
Russia kept his eyes closed tight, unable to stop his body from reacting to France’s touches. He raised his hips slightly, pressing his erection into France’s abs; brushing slightly against the other man’s arousal as France shifted ever so slightly. “Touch me... lower...”
His breath hitched as he felt France’s hand glide down his body. He expected his hand to rest on his crotch; on the fabric, but instead, it slid under his waistband and before he could control himself, his body arched up and he found himself perched on his elbows, panting heavily as he felt fingers wrap around his erection.
“Too fast,” he gasped, sucking his lip into his mouth. What France was doing... it felt so much better than when he did it himself but France’s hand was moving too quickly. It was too much; too soon. He wasn’t prepared for this... “Wait, slow down... p-please,” he stammered out, placing his hand on France’s shoulder, willing him to stop with his eyes. He didn’t want to finish so early but if France continued the way he did, it would be over before it had even began.
“It’s okay for you to come, my pretty. I am in no rush here. We can wait until you become aroused again to continue,” France said with a dismissive fashion, moving his hand even faster. He wanted to see Russia feel pleasure; he wanted to watch his face as he reached his climax. He had only imagined it and his mind had been all wrong. He had expected the other man to be almost expressionless; cold as his country was but no, he was quite the opposite. France could feel heat radiating from his body. He could see Russia's face twitch with pleasure after every stroke. The way he blushed; the way his eyes fluttered shut as he bit down onto his lip, desperately trying to stave off his orgasm.
He couldn’t though and France watched with excitement as Russia came. His eyes were on Russia’s face, watching every muscle on his face respond to the sensation. The long drawl Russia let out as he bucked up into France’s hand made every hair on the blonde’s neck stand on end. The sound was exquisite and unexpected. He had never heard such a sound; a moan of pure innocence. It sounded almost confused, matching Russia’s expression perfectly.
“Are you okay?” France asked, withdrawing his hand and raising it to his mouth. He absent-mindedly licked up the fluid on his hand, a smirk gracing his features as Russia let out a mortified groan.
“S-stop that!” Russia snapped, sitting up and pushing France off him onto the bed. “That’s disgusting. I can’t possibly taste nice so don’t lick it up!”
France slid over the bed from where he had been thrown to and wrapped his arms around Russia’s large torso from behind him. He couldn’t help but suddenly notice that even though he had opened Russia’s shirt, his coat and various undergarments remained on his body. He wanted to see more of the other man suddenly.
“Russia, don’t be so silly. Being intimate means doing such things. It’s perfectly natural,” France mumbled as he nuzzled Russia’s neck, his hands running up and down his body as he did so. “Besides, you taste delicious.”
“It isn’t,” Russia said softly, placing his hands onto France’s thighs as he leaned back into his arms. “Nothing about this is natural. You’re a man, I’m a man... I...don’t think I can do this with you... It’s not you though...I don’t think I can do this with anyone...”
His words didn’t matter to France by this point. France knew people well enough to know when they were lying; to know why they were simply stalling for time. Although Russia’s choice of phrases hurt him, he couldn’t help but be concerned about the other man. He was scared, that much was apparent but it seemed more than just ‘first time’ worries.
“Hush... You can do this,” France reassured, pressing his lips against Russia’s neck. “How about we remove your clothes?”
“No!” Russia yelped almost, jumping up and wrapping his own arms over his chest as he turned around and looked down at France. “I really don’t want you seeing me... naked... can’t we do this with my clothes on?”
France held back a laugh, standing up and pulling Russia into a kiss, pulling him back slightly before he dropped down onto the bed, still holding Russia in his arms. “Don’t be silly. How about we at least lose your coat and blazer? You can keep the shirt on...and the scarf”
Russia stared at France for a moment before once again, slid off the bed and removed his outer clothing. He could feel France’s eyes on his body. He could sense the other nation wanted to see more of him but he just couldn’t bring himself to drop his shirt from his shoulders. His body was a map of his life and it showed his past sins; unforgivable sins. His hands lingered at his trousers. France hadn’t even unbuttoned them...
He suddenly felt embarrassed again. He had come without even getting his pants off.
“Do you want to take your trousers off?” He heard France ask from behind him. Slowly shaking his head, he turned around only to find France completely stark naked and sprawled on the bed, a rose between his teeth. He was about to question where the flower had come from until he quickly noticed a vase of them on the night stand. Of course.
“Why are you... naked...” Russia mumbled, allowing his eyes to run down France’s body. It was different to his own. France, for one, had hair across his chest, trailing down to his penis (which Russia couldn’t help but feel rather intimidated by). His own chest was bare but it was by choice. He didn’t care for much body hair... France however, clearly liked to keep things natural.
France didn’t answer, instead he tapped the bed, inviting Russia over.
He hesitated as he took a seat again and allowed France to straddle him. He once again watched as France made his way down his body with his lips, kissing every part of flesh on his torso, nipping the skin; teasing it, making sure to leave his mark before he travelled further south. This time, he flipped open the button on the trousers before he tugged the zipper down.
He was hard again. It hadn’t taken much. France nuzzling his neck had been enough to arouse him. It made him blush something chronic but by the noise France made as he fondled him, he didn’t seem to mind how easily he was turned on.
“Why do you like me?” Russia asked as France pulled down his trousers slightly, leaving them halfway down his hips as he looked up.
“You’re a very interesting person. You’re different,” He started, smiling at Russia before he went back to what he was doing, relieved that Russia wasn’t stopping him. Throwing the trousers off the bed, he raised Russia’s legs in the air and placed them on his shoulders. Turning his head and kissing both ankles momentarily, he continued speaking, moving his lips down each leg. “You’re intelligent. You’re attractive and incredibly sexy, not that you’d believe it.” He paused at Russia’s knees, sliding his fingers through the creases in the legs and brushing his fingertips against the sensitive skin behind the knees. “You’re the most fascinating person I have ever encountered and I am infatuated with you.”
Russia let out a long moan as France’s lips stopped at his inner thighs. He could feel breath on his crotch, sending his body temperature soaring. He wanted more; he wanted it all but France was taking his time.
“My Russia, your skin is so hot...” France drawled, running his fingers along the waistband of Russia’s boxers. “Are you hot?”
“N-No...” Russia lied, raising his hand to his mouth. He couldn’t bare to look down at France. His mouth was so close to his erection. He could feel the other man’s chin brush against his balls as he spoke; the stubble on his face prickling through the thin fabric of his underwear. He didn’t want to find such a simple thing arousing but his body wouldn’t stop reacting to the most basic of actions.
“So Russia doesn’t want me to remove these?” He asked, pinging the waistband, purposely moving his face forward to his nose brushed against Russia’s cock as he spoke again.
Russia narrowed his eyes. France was mocking him but he couldn’t bring himself to shout at the other man. He was too aroused to do anything but whimper a simple “Please...” He gasped, unable to suppress another moan as he felt the cold night air on his hot lower extremities so suddenly as France removed his boxers.
He waited to feel something around his dick. A hand; a mouth. Instead, he got neither. Feeling impatient, he looked down at the other man, only to see him nestled between his legs with a small tube and packet. He couldn't even remember France getting them out... but then everything that had passed was already turning into such a blur.
“W-What’s all that?!” Russia stammered out, tensing up as France’s hand disappeared from sight. He didn’t even have a chance to protest as France slipped a finger inside him and began sliding it in and out.
“Just some lubricant and a condom. I don’t know what you may have heard about me but I do not find pain or disease sexy,” he said bluntly before he dipped his head down to kiss Russia’s thigh as he added another finger, but found himself not moving them as he arched an eyebrow with concern. “Are you okay?”
Russia nodded, whimpering as France’s fingers nudged into him. “Hurts a little...” He said with the smallest voice. Part of him wanted to clamp his legs together and run away but he truly wanted France to just get on with it. He didn’t care if it would hurt. He wanted it over and done with so he could deal with the consequences. He had to know if he was truly just another toy for France to discard once he was done. “Keep going.”
To Russia’s relief, France didn’t say anything further. Instead, he continued stretching him out, gently spreading his fingers for what felt like an eternity until he curled his digits and brushed against something Russia hadn’t even known about until now. He found himself letting out a noise he never thought would pass through his lips. A noise of pure lust; a wanton moan that forced France to press into the spot again.
“Ah, Russia likes that...” France muttered, placing another kiss to his inner thigh. “It is to be expected.”
Russia felt his entire body heat up with embarrassment as he tried to muffle his own voice with his scarf.
“P-please, I want more.”
“You’re not ready ye-” His voice was cut off as Russia pulled his body up from the bed and grabbed the condom from his hand. “Do you know how to put one of those on another person?” He said with a slightly condescending tone.
“Y-Yes!” Russia stammered, staring down at the small foil packet as he knelt in front of France. Fumbling with it, he tore the packet open and tried to ignore France’s chuckle as the rubber ring flew into the air and landed on his own head.
With a slight pout, he grabbed the condom and tried to recall how they had done it in pornographic films he had seen. He gazed down at France’s erection, swallowing hard as he balanced it on the tip, only to hear a quiet “Other way” from the blonde.
Blushing furiously, he flipped it over, holding the tip as he rolled it down France’s shaft, intimidated as it barely reached the bottom. He wasn’t sure how well such things were supposed to fit and he found the lubricated item to be slightly amusing, but that didn’t help his body from tensing up at the mere thought of being fucked by what was inside it.
“How do you want to do this? Would you prefer to lie down... or do you want to be on all fours?”
“Don’t be vile. Do you see me as some sort of dog? Don’t you want to see me or something? Do you really see me as a piece of meat to stick your dick in?” Russia snapped, glaring at France for a moment as he allowed his own insecurities to flood from his mouth so suddenly.
“Hey hey... My love, please be calm. I was simply asking for your own comfort. Of course I want to see your face,” he paused, placing his hands on Russia's chest. “Your body...”
Russia cleaned his throat before he shuffled forward and straddled France, sitting in his lap. He could feel France's cock slide between his cheeks as he shifted himself. “Want to do it like this,” he said as he sat up a little.
“I want to see how beautiful my Russia looks when he feels good,” France uttered, wrapping his arms around Russia as he adjusted his position. He ignored the weight of the other man as he lowered their bodies to the bed. he didn’t want to do any sudden movements, despite what his body wanted to do.
“P-Please, stop lying to me,” Russia said quietly, turning his face to the side. The words France continued to say made his heart ache. Although his mind told him France’s words were false, his heart believed every little thing he said.
France shook his head, taking hold of both of Russia’s arms, placing them above his head and holding them in place with one hand as he allowed his other to trail down Russia’s body. “My words are true. Please believe me,” he said as he wrapped his hand around Russia’s erection, gently stroking it as he started to slowly thrust his hips.
Russia’s eyes snapped open as he felt pleasure rush through his body from the feelings. He didn’t make any move to pull his arms from France’s grasp. Instead, he looked down at France’s skilled hand as it worked his cock. It felt different to before. Even though it was the same thing, all he felt now was sheer euphoria as France continued to move.
He glanced up at the blonde’s face and his felt his body shudder. His expression was divine. Concentration was apparent as he continued his ministrations. The way he furrowed his brow; the way his tongue darted out to moisten his own lips. He was ignoring the sweat dripping down his face. Ignoring the hair poking into his eyes. Instead, he was paying all his attention to Russia.
His mind suddenly let up and allowed his heart to take over. Reason and logic finally kicked in and batted away his insecurities. A man who only wanted him as another name on a list wouldn’t work so hard, would he? His mind had been saying yes all along but now, it only told him that France’s words and actions were true.
“I-I...” Russia panted, biting his own lip for a moment as he felt the onset of his own orgasm. “I believe you,” he said with a shaky voice, his body quivering as he felt France move inside him faster; the pace making his breath hitch as he tried to breathe.
He couldn’t stop his body from moving at the same pace, his own hips thrusting up into France’s hand, meeting France’s own movements as he lowered them again. He slid his arms out of France’s grasp, moaning loudly as that hand immediately found its way onto his chest, pinching his nipples playfully. He looked up at the other man, unable to stop himself from smiling as he saw a smirk grow on his face.
“Does it... feel good?” France asked, quickening the pace with his hand.
“A-Amazing,” Russia replied with a moan, clutching at the sheets underneath him. “I want to...Want to...” He panted.
“Want to come?”
Russia nodded fervently, unable to stop his body from trembling as he felt ecstasy coarse through his veins for that one moment; that moment of rhapsody as he closed his eyes. France had adjusted his position just in time, jabbing into his most sensitive spot over and over as he rode out his own orgasm, his body shaking as he let out a long groan.
His body suddenly felt so numb, but he could still feel pleasure from France’s movements as he tried to seek his own climax. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t move. Instead, all he could do was lie there as France let go of his cock and gripped onto his hips. He wasn’t sure if France had suddenly got rougher or if his body was just overly tender now but the sight of France pounding into him, concentrating only on his own pleasure now was enough to make every inch of himself tingle.
“F-France... kiss me...” Russia mumbled, allowing his arms to drift into the air. Instantly, he found himself able to hug France closer as he leaned in, their lips coming together in a lust-filled kiss as France continued to push into Russia sporadically, with more need than before.
“It’s okay to come, you don’t have to prove your stamina to me,” he mumbled between kisses, allowing his tongue to delve inside France’s mouth. This was the first time he had taken control of a kiss and all he could do was imitate what France did, teasing the other man’s tongue; gentle massaging it with all the energy he could muster.
Russia felt a shock of pain as France dug his fingers into his sides, stopping the kiss to flop his head down onto Russia’s chest as he jabbed shallowly inside a few more times before he completely allowed his body to fall down. Had he finished? He had stopped moving but remained inside him.
He didn't move. Instead, he simply lay there atop Russia, panting heavily, uttering several French phrases Russia failed to understand.
“Do you mind getting off me for a moment?” Russia grumbled, trying to push the blonde off him only to fail miserably as his body refused to give him any strength.
“Don’t want to,” France mumbled as he nuzzled Russia’s neck, still euphoric from his own orgasm.
“Please get off me,” Russia said flatly, squirming under France. He didn’t know what the etiquette was concerning post-coital activities. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to stay or leave. He wasn’t sure if they were supposed to talk about it or never mention it.
“Don’t be grumpy Russia, I just want to be in you a little longer. You’re divine,” he uttered, tilting his head to the side to watch his finger as he traced invisible patterns on Russia’s chest.
“France, I’m asking you to get off me... and get out of me too.” He was embarrassed by what they had done but happy at the same time. His heart was pounding and he wanted to say so much, but all he could do was tell France to get off him. He felt rude, but he couldn't think of what to say. He wasn't good with words at the best of times.
He let out a low groan as he finally felt France withdraw from him. His body was still throbbing and without France on top of him, he could see his limbs shaking slightly.
“I’m cold,” he said softly, turning over to face France as he settled down beside him. He gazed into the other man's eyes, his heart jumping as France smiled at him and shuffled forward before he kissed him gently on the lips.
Without speaking though, France took Russia into his arms and pulled him closer, holding him tightly as they both drifted off to sleep.
--
Russia awoke slowly, instantly remembering the events of the night before. His body ached all over. He couldn’t even remember falling asleep. He definitely couldn’t recall going under the sheets... he ran his hands over his torso, suddenly realising his shirt was gone. He most certainly did not remember removing his shirt.
He turned over, expecting France to be there but instead, all he found was an empty spot. A cold empty spot.
How long had he been alone?
“France?”
He sat up slightly, clutching the sheet to his chest. France was gone. He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.
“Of course he’s gone, why wouldn’t he be?” He mumbled, sliding under the sheets. He was ashamed of how he had actually allowed himself to believe France lies. He had heard so many bad things about France and he had taken them all in...his mind had convinced him fully that France was not one to be trusted yet he had let his heart take over; let his heart lead him into bed with France and now he had given up the one last pure thing about himself.
He was just another notch on France’s bedpost now. Another experience he would be able to gloat about, or perhaps not. Rubbing his face into the pillow, he allowed memories of the previous night flash before his eyes. He doubted France would be gloating about it any time soon. He wasn’t as attractive as any of France’s previous conquests; his body wasn’t as toned; wasn’t as lean... He had no one feature that would set him apart from any of the other people France had shared his bed with.
But to him, France would always be there in his mind; in his heart. He would always be the one and as he felt his heart ache slightly, he would be his last. He had made a mistake and he would not repeat it again.
“I’m such an idiot,” he said as he bashed the pillow with his fist.
“And why is that, beautiful?” a voice chimed in and he felt the bed dip down. “I happen to think you are very intelligent.”
Russia scrambled around and sat up, blinking hard. “W-What are you doing here?”
France frowned for a second. “...this is my house?” He said slowly, raising the tray he held in the air. “I made you breakfast. I made croissants, from scratch.” He winked, smiling as he placed the tray on Russia’s lap. “Also, jam from England. If it’s terrible, we can just throw it over the balcony.”
Russia almost drooled as the smell of the fresh croissants filled the air before him. Taking hold of one, he realised they were still warm. France had made them for him, with his own hands... he had gone out of his way just for him.
“They smell... nice.”
“They are nice. They’re fantastic actually. Why are you an idiot anyway?” France asked again, shuffling further onto the bed and sitting astride Russia. He took hold of one of the croissants, breaking a small part off and holding it up to Russia’s lips. “Why is Russia an idiot?”
Russia looked down at the bread France was holding out to him. “It’s nothing,” he uttered, opening his mouth as France pushed it into his mouth. As he chewed it, he stared at France. He hadn’t gone anywhere. He had just gone to cook breakfast for him.
“Nothing?” France asked again, opening the jar of jam and pushing his finger inside, sniffing the substance on the end of his finger for a moment. Running it along Russia’s lips, he bent forward and gently kissed him. “Tastes good. And the jam is quite tasty too.”
“I just thought... it’s nothing, really,” Russia insisted, licking his lips.
France shrugged, pressing his lips to Russia’s forehead before he climbed back off the bed and stretched. “If you’re not busy today and if you’re not fed up of my company by now, I was wondering if you would accompany me to a sunflower field for a picnic?”
Russia couldn’t help but smile at the suggestion. He had mentioned his penchant for the flowers on their first date, when their table at the restaurant had them in a vase. He couldn’t believe he had remembered and he tried to hide his excitement as France turned to face him, awaiting an answer to his question. In an instant, his insecurities about their relationship left his mind once again and this time, he knew they wouldn’t return.
“I would love to.”
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: France/Russia
Rating: NC-17/M
Summary: France tries to pursuade a very insecure Russia to give it up and sleep with him. He loves him, he truly does, but Russia has a hard time accepting this fact.
Notes: Done for the Hetalia kink meme~
“Russia isn't all that he seems, you know,” England mumbled as he placed his cup back on the saucer before resting it on the table that separated himself from the other nation. “I think you need to cut your loses with him and admit that there are some people that not even France can romance.”
France let out a long sigh, holding his wine glass up in the air. The colour was rich; beautiful even. It made his mouth water with anticipation but he would let it breathe for a moment longer.
“I don't even understand what you see in that creep. You've been on what, ten dates with the man and he won't put out. Maybe it's better that you just leave him alone,” England continued, crossing his arms with a frown. “Only you would go to this much trouble to get your end away.”
“It's not just about the sex, dearest England. Going so long without being intimate with the person I am dating, it has caused me to see them in a completely different light,” France started as he brought the glass to his nose, inhaling the aroma. “I feel something very strong for Russia. He is beautiful in his own special way.”
England regarded the blonde for a moment. He didn't believe in gossiping, that much was true but he also felt there were certain things that people should divulge with each other when dating. He pondered for a moment before he sucked his lip into his mouth and sat forward.
“I have some information for you, if you do truly see him in that light,” England began, placing his hands on his knees as he leaned even further. “Russia and I shared a very awkward moment a couple of weeks ago.”
France raised an eyebrow, immediately sitting forward himself. “Did he make love to you? I am all for a healthy sexual appetite but to give it up to you and not me...well, I just find the mere thought vulgar.”
“Shut up, idiot. I wouldn't be with a man like him.”
“You like them stuffed full of hamburgers, eh?” France remarked, taking a sip from his glass. Divine; just as he had imagined, although now he was salivating for a different reason. The mere mention of Russia was enough to get his blood pumping.
“Do you want to know or not?” England flopped back with a huff, knocking the table with his foot. The tea in the cup sloshed back and forth, spilling into the saucer and the liquid had calmed down before England verbally nudged France. “Well? Do you or don't you?”
France stared at the smaller man, unable to take his eyes off the serious expression he held. Normally, their lunches were full of bickering and meaningless banter but for England to have something interesting to say that would warrant such a stern expression? Well, he most certainly did want to hear it.
“Do tell then, especially if it involves my beloved Russia,” he purred, taking another sip of his wine.
“Word on the street is that Russia thinks you are only dating him to 'become one with him', as he so nicely put it. He fears you will toss him aside as soon as you are done, like you have with all your previous partners.” England paused, glaring at France harshly enough to imply that he was still sore about the night they spent together. “He is going keeping his legs closed for a while so those blue balls of yours? You better get some underwear to match the shade because they aren't going anywhere any time soon.”
France downed the rest of his wine. Russia had never struck him as the insecure type. Every date they had been on, Russia had been so confident. Ordering food (on one occasion, he ordered France's food for him), drinking alcohol, wearing something other than his usual attire (although the scarf had remained. The conversations had been rich, the silences comfortable.
However, now he thought about it, Russia did always move their conversations away from anything sexual. He did always find an excuse not to kiss France at the end of the date. Always blushed when France ran his foot up his leg; touched his hand on the table.
“But he's an adult man. Surely he isn't so childish as to hold out just to prove a point that he is not one to be fucked with?” France reached over and took hold of the bottle of wine, swiftly pouring himself another glass.
England shook his head. “He told me something else to. Now, you can never tell him I said this because... well, unlike you, I value my life and I don't fuck with things as scary as... Russia.” He took in a deep breath, glancing around the garden. There was no one around that he could see, and the only person he knew that hid in bushes on a regular basis was himself.
“Out with it!” France demanded, taking another sip. He allowed the wine to linger in his mouth; the taste filled all of his senses as he awaited England's big revelation.
“He has never been to bed with another man,” England started, looking up for a moment as he stroked his chin. “In fact, unless he has been shagging his sisters, I don't think he has ever been with a woman either, but he only confirmed the former.”
France choked slightly on the wine as he held back from spitting it out at the other nation. “My my...” he uttered. The thought of Russia being as pure as the untouched snow that lay on his vast nation was enough to make his blood rush southwards. “What else has he said?” Curiosity had got the best of him now.
“He said he was starting to feel things for you that... made his heart beat once again. By this point, I was naturally scared shitless. He just started speaking to me one day, I didn't have the nerve to interrupt him,” England muttered, blushing deeply as he recalled how pathetic he acted around the larger nation.
Despite the way England had relayed the information to him, France couldn't help but feel his heart miss a beat. He had been feelings strong emotions towards Russia for a while, even before he had accepted to go on dates with him... but to know that his feelings were reciprocated? It made his entire body cry out with longing. He longed to speak with Russia, discuss their feelings and rejoice.
As his mind ran through a selection of bouquets he wished to deliver to Russia, he stopped suddenly.
“Wait, he told you all this... why hasn't he told me?”
England rolled his eyes. “Because he is worried that you will just say you love him to bed him. After all, that is also something you do very frequently.”
“Name one time I've done that,” France said, waving his free hand as he took a sip of wine.
“Oh, Romano, I love you more than words can describe. Please allow me to express my feelings with my body. I love you like I have never loved anyone before~” England mimicked France's voice, waving his hands around in a flamboyant fashion.
France felt his face heat up slightly as his own line was repeated back to him. “Where did you hear that? Who told you I said that?”
“Spain overheard it when you spouted that bullshit to poor Romano in the stables at his house.” He lifted his leg and placed it on his knee, clasping his hands together and resting on them as he stared over the table. “I tell you this as someone who hates you, be careful with Russia. He may seem like a strong man but he is like the rest of us. Being alone all that time in the past really left him feeling vulnerable and as much as he scares me, I don't desire to see him get hurt.”
“Would I ever hurt anyone?”
England grunted slightly. “Seriously, I do not want World War Three because you just wanted to get your leg over...and remember, you didn't hear anything about this from me. I'm already a mess as it is, what with the recession. I don't need problems with Russia right now.”
“Ah, you think such bad things of me,” France replied with a smirk, deciding to say nothing more on the matter. He had all the information he needed now.
--
After considering a variety of venues for their next date, France decided that Russia would probably be more comfortable on his own home turf.
However, when he arrived at the door, he was greeted by the Russia everyone else knew and feared. He wasn't scared though, part of him found the other nation's personality endearing, the other part of him found it arousing (but then he found 90% of things arousing).
“You really shouldn't have come here,” Russia stated bluntly, towering over France from the doorway, a glum expression on his face.
France smiled and whipped out a bunch of roses from behind him back, along with a vintage bottle of wine. Even if he felt differently about Russia, he wouldn't change his techniques. They were proven to be effective. Maybe they hadn't got him very far already but now he was armed with precious information that would help him adjust said techniques to the situation.
He leaned over, attempting to kiss Russia on the lips only to have the larger man turn his face just enough for his lips to land on his cold cheek.
“You really should not have come here...” Russia repeated, nervously looking around as he closed the door after France invited himself in.
“Nonsense. I have a desire to see my beloved and I have something I need to say to you,” France said, placing the flowers on the sideboard as he looked around the entrance hall. If he had been here before, he couldn't remember it. “Something that could not wait.”
Russia shuffled past France, beckoning for him to follow. The house was dusty; cold. If he had have known he was having guests, he would have asked someone to clean but people so very rarely visited him that he stopped asking for the house to be cleaned every day; stopped asking for every fire in every room to be lit.
“What is it you wanted to say? I hate to be rude with you but I have work to be doing. We have an arranged date tomorrow,” he said with a slight smile as he brought that up, his heart beating slightly faster as he thought about dinner at one of Frances many restaurants. So warm; so intimate.
France led Russia over to the fire. “Sit down on the rug. It will set the scene for this.”
“If you're planning on trying to sleep with me on a rug in my own home, you can just stop right now,” Russia mumbled, taking a seat on the floor, keeping at least a metre away from the man he was dating.
“Now, would I really be so tacky?” He replied, gracefully dropping down onto the rug, narrowly avoiding Russia's lap, although he did place one leg over the other man's thighs and neither of them made any effort to remove it.
Russia nodded, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face. “I wouldn't put it past you.”
“Let us be serious for a moment,” France began, shifting closer, both his legs now over Russia's lap. “We have been seeing each other for quite some time, no? Well, I desire-”
“You can stop your sentence right there,” Russia interrupted, pushing France's legs off him. “If you're going to say something lewd, you can just leave.” He attempted to scramble to his feet, blushing heavily as the thought of him and France being intimate crept into his mind, blushing even further as France grabbed his coattail and yanked him back down again.
He found himself in France's lap, and although he knew that he weighed a lot, he made no immediate attempt to move. He was paralysed with embarrassment and the way the other man was grinning down at him only darkened his cheeks further.
“Unless you think love is lewd, then what I have to say shouldn't be a problem.” France slid a rose out from his sleeve and smiled, running the flower down Russia's face tenderly before he carried on speaking. “I have come to realise that my feelings for you are greater than I had previously thought. However, before I make such a verbal commitment, I desire to know how you feel about me.”
Russia regarded France for a moment before he turned his face away, still blushing furiously. His heart was racing; his mind working overtime. He felt something for France, something very strong but he couldn't voice his feelings. It wasn't in his nature to do such a thing.
“Tell me how you feel about me, Russia. You're giving me such mixed signals.” France said as he continued to caress Russia's face with the rose.
“I...I don't know. This is all so sudden.” Although it wasn't. Ever since their first date, Russia had started to feel things he had only read about in books....but he couldn't bring himself to say it. As far as he knew, France was only after him for one reason.
He shifted uncomfortably, trying to sit up, only to have France pull him down into his lap again. The closeness made him feel...weird. He couldn't shake off the feeling that made him blush right to his ears. He didn't know what it was, how would he? He never made it obvious but his experience in such matters was non-existent,
“Surely you could sense that this is just more than just a schoolboy crush for me.” France drawled, moving the rose onto Russia's chest. He longed to see what was under the large coat. The suits the man had worn to their dates had been divine but... he longed to see even more. He couldn't even recall a time he had seen anything more than the skin on his face. He always wore that scarf; those gloves, despite any formal attire he would adorn.
Russia looked down at the rose. “Why do you like me?” The uncharacteristic words left his mouth before he even had a chance to think them over.
France stared down at the larger man. “I don't.” He paused, instantly noticing a flicker of hurt on Russia's face. “I love you and I love you for many different reasons. You're very attractive. Intelligent. Powerful. I long to be intimate with you. I think you are simply delicious...”
“You don't mean that. I've heard you say these things to other people. Your words are so empty; so meaningless,” Russia mumbled, taking hold of the rose and scrambling up.
France didn't attempt to stop him as he moved over to the fire, put off by the suddenly cold breeze that blew over him. Instead, he watched as Russia carelessly discarded the rose into the fire.
“How can I prove to you that I love you?” France asked. He had never said such a thing before. The mere notion of questioning love was unfathomable, especially when it came to him. He wasn't lying when he said he loved people. Sure, he may have only loved them for a few minutes, a few hours or a few days but it was still love and he cherished all his romantic memories.
Russia let out a long sigh. “You can leave me alone...” He pulled his scarf up and over his mouth, nuzzling the soft wool. He didn't want to continue the conversation. It was over as far as he was concerned.
It was then that he felt a chest against his back. Two arms snaked their way around his waist and he could see France's face out of the corner of his eye.
“You may not believe me, but I do love you,” he whispered, pressing his lips against Russia's cheek. “And no matter how long it takes for you to believe me, I shall wait.”
--
Russia raised his hand nervously, his fist shaking as he willed himself to bang on the door but he couldn't do it.
It had been nearly a month since he had last spoken to France. He had blown him off, ignored his calls, refused to see him when he visited... he had even left the countless letters he had sent unopened on his sideboard, along with the wilting flowers and various bottles of alcohol.
He felt so stupid. He couldn't take back how childish he had acted. It was too late for that but he could make amends for his idiotic behaviour. He was able to do that much.
Taking in another deep breath, he allowed his fist to collide with the door and waited.
The minute between allowing his hand to drop to his side and the door opening felt like an eternity. He wanted to see France. He didn't believe that France truly loved him but he was an adult now. Love wasn't the issue here. It was sex. He knew it was all his fault too. If he could just get over it...
“Russia?” A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the face that accompanied the voice.
“France... I... I'm sorry... I...”
“I told you I'd wait for you,” France said as he stepped aside to allow Russia into his home. “And wait for you I did.”
Russia hung his head as he meandered inside. He couldn't bare to look him in the eyes. “I know you said that.,” he uttered, pausing in the entrance hall. He had been to France's home many times before, after all, France was always eager to invite people in.
“You ignored my phone calls, my letters...” France started as he leant in to kiss Russia, only to stop as Russia didn't move. “You're not avoiding me?”
Russia blushed slightly, placing his hands on France's chest. “A-about that...maybe you love me, maybe you don't but...”
France shook his head, placing his index finger on Russia's lips. “Hush. Tell me, why did you come here? I would have waited another month; another year; another decade for you.”
“I think it's pretty obvious why I came here,” he replied, although he wasn't exactly sure himself. He could feel his confidence barrier he had put up around France over so many dates crumbling. The dates had been a shield, every conversation they shared had strengthened his defences. He was certain he had masked any insecurities he held... but the instant those three tiny words had been mentioned, his barrier had come crashing down and he had failed to build them back up even with a month apart.
“I want to hear you say it,” France whispered as he leant further forward and raised a hand to the side of Russia's head, gently running his fingers through the locks. “Tell me why you came here.”
Russia felt his face heat up even more as France wound his hair around his fingers, tugging it ever so slightly. “P-please, don't be like this with me. I only came over here to speak to you. N-nothing more,” he stammered, freeing himself from France’s grip and stepping backwards.
He could see the lust in France’s eyes and he felt that his own expression gave his feelings away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want France, he was human after all (despite what the other nations thought about him). At the same time though, he couldn’t stop the niggling thought at the back of the mind. France had been with so many other men, so many other women... he didn’t want to end up just being another name on his long list of conquests.
“Now, why would you come here just to speak to me? Surely you would have just picked up the phone... to want to see me in person...” He approached Russia and before either of them realised it, they had run out of floor space and the wall ceased both of their movements. “It implies you wanted something a little more than conversation.”
Russia blushed even further, raising his hand to adjust his scarf. He was hot; hotter than he had ever been in his life. The way France made his intentions so obvious was intimidating but at the same time, it made him want the other man. He had never felt this way about anyone before; he had never wanted anyone before.
“I...I really don’t think I can do that,” Russia mumbled, trying to ignore France’s breathe on his face as he leaned in closer. It smelled like wine. Was he drunk? He couldn’t tell. He was just acting the exact same way as he usually did.
“Is there something physically stopping you?” France whispered, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Russia’s cheek as he ran his hand down the larger man’s chest, further south, sliding between his coat before he placed his palm against his crotch. “No, nothing wrong physically.”
“D-dont touch me there!” Russia gasped, his body tensing at the slightest touch. He didn’t want to be touched there first. Not without a hug; not without a kiss...
He tilted his head slightly, allowing small moan to drop from his lips as France applied pressure. He wanted to be kissed but he couldn’t bring himself to make the first move. He had only ever kissed his sisters on their cheeks’ on their foreheads; on their hands. He had never kissed anyone romantically. He wasn’t even sure how. If France knew what a child he truly was...
He grabbed hold of France’s hand, ceasing it’s movements. Locking eyes with the blonde, he did his best to urge him to kiss him but France simply stared at him. He wasn’t sure what France wanted from him. Did he want him to take the initiative? Or was this because he had already rejected him so many times before...
“Could you perhaps...” Russia started, unable to continue staring at the other man. He was too nervous; too shy. He wanted to bolt but was was cornered. “I...”
“Do you not want me like I want you?” France asked, sliding his hands under Russia’s coat and placing them on his hips. “Come now, you can tell me anything.”
Russia nuzzled his scarf, covering his mouth once again as France moved in closer; their bodies almost touching. “I’ve never done this before,” he blurted out into the fabric in one breath, blushing a deeper shade of red as he admitting it aloud to such an experienced man.
“Never done what?” France questioned, acting coy. He already knew all this from what England had said but he needed Russia to be comfortable enough to say it to him.
“Y-You know what I mean... don’t make me say it.”
France shook his head, running his fingers along the scarf, tugging the fabric down slightly, revealing Russia’s lips. “Say it. Say what you’ve never done; say what you want. Say you want me to do it.”
Russia stared at France. He was pushing him but it didn’t make him anymore nervous. If anything, it put him at ease. His overconfidence soothed his insecurities and he wasn’t sure why. “I’ve never... kissed anyone before,” he uttered, unable to blush anymore.
“You...you have... never been kissed?” France said slowly, backing off a little as Russia looked at him nervously; expectantly; needy. He couldn’t do this here. It had to be more... memorable. If this would be Russia’s first kiss, it would be as perfect as he could make it. He outstretched his hand, signalling for Russia to take it. “Follow me.”
--
Russia’s eyes sparkled as he gazed out into the distance. Tiny lights speckled the ground from the balcony on which they stood. “It’s beautiful,” he uttered under his breath and he moved to the railings, leaning over slightly to see more of the view.
“The view of France has nothing on that of Russia,” he said with a suave tone, spinning Russia around and pushing him slightly against the railings. “You are one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my entire life and I desire you like no other. Please, let me love you like you deserve to be loved.”
Russia couldn’t sense a lie; his words were so fluid, his expression so serious as he spoke. The words he said, even if they were lies, made him feel something and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I want you to kiss me,” he said as he leaned forward. “Kiss me now.”
He braced himself as France moved slightly. He was frozen; paralysed all over as the blonde tilted his head ever so slightly and smirked. His mind went crazy for a moment. The smirk. Did that mean he had let the other man win? Was this all just some sort of game? Was France mentally adding his name to his long list of conquests?
Before he could dwell on it any further, he felt a sudden warmth on his lips. France’s eyes were closed and he followed suit, allowing his eyelids to flutter shut as he returned the kiss as his mind told him to. He parted his lips slightly, capturing France’s lower lip between his own. His tongue waited patiently in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what to do with it... he waited for France to deepen the kiss but it never happened.
Instead, France broke the kiss and smiled. “Do you want more?”
Russia nodded with a meek smile on his face. “B-but please, go slow...”
“If you want me to stop at any time, just say so.”
--
“Don’t do that!” Russia cried out as France slid his coat open as he lay on the bed. “I don’t want you to see my body.” He placed his arms across his chest, turning his face to the side to avoid France’s gaze from above him.
France chuckled lightly, placing his hands on Russia’s wrists and willing his arms away all too easily. He ran his finger down the series of buttons on the crisp white shirt. “Why wouldn’t you want me to see your beautiful body?” He asked, taking the knot of the tie between his fingers and pulling it open with one swift pull. “For us to be intimate, you must be comfortable enough to show me your body. I can show you mine first, if it would make you more comfortable?”
“That wouldn’t make any difference. You have no flaws... My body is covered with imperfections that will disgust you. Please, don’t make me show you my body.”
Neither of them spoke as France frowned and sat back, resting his body on Russia’s thighs. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, letting out a long sigh as he discarded it. Taking hold of Russia’s hand, he raised it to his chest. “Feel this here? That’s a scar from a sword.” He paused, lowering Russia’s hand to his ribcage. “That’s a series of bullet wounds.” He lowered his hand even further, allowing it to rest just at the waistband of his trousers.
“Enough,” Russia snapped, grabbing his hand back. He didn’t want every flaw of France pointed out. When he saw France, he only saw perfection. “I don’t care that you have scars or wounds...”
“And I don’t care about your imperfections either,” he said, placing his finger to Russia’s lip for a second time. His other hand rested on Russia’s stomach for a moment before he started making light work of the buttons. He could see fear in Russia’s eyes as he slid his hand onto bare skin. “Don’t be afraid,” he mumbled, running his hand up Russia’s skin, surprised by how hot it was; by how firm it was.
“I don’t like this... it feels weird,” Russia said quietly, raising his hand to his own mouth to bite down on his knuckles as France’s fingers found his right nipple and toyed with it gently, his other hand quickly finding his left one. “Ah! Feels strange!” He cried out, closing his eyes tightly.
“Feels good?” France asked, lowering his face to Russia’s chest before he ran his tongue around the right nipple, teasing the nub as Russia let out a small whimper. He could already feel the result of his actions pressing against his own stomach.
“N-no, it’s embarrassing. Please, stop.”
“What would you rather I do?”
Russia kept his eyes closed tight, unable to stop his body from reacting to France’s touches. He raised his hips slightly, pressing his erection into France’s abs; brushing slightly against the other man’s arousal as France shifted ever so slightly. “Touch me... lower...”
His breath hitched as he felt France’s hand glide down his body. He expected his hand to rest on his crotch; on the fabric, but instead, it slid under his waistband and before he could control himself, his body arched up and he found himself perched on his elbows, panting heavily as he felt fingers wrap around his erection.
“Too fast,” he gasped, sucking his lip into his mouth. What France was doing... it felt so much better than when he did it himself but France’s hand was moving too quickly. It was too much; too soon. He wasn’t prepared for this... “Wait, slow down... p-please,” he stammered out, placing his hand on France’s shoulder, willing him to stop with his eyes. He didn’t want to finish so early but if France continued the way he did, it would be over before it had even began.
“It’s okay for you to come, my pretty. I am in no rush here. We can wait until you become aroused again to continue,” France said with a dismissive fashion, moving his hand even faster. He wanted to see Russia feel pleasure; he wanted to watch his face as he reached his climax. He had only imagined it and his mind had been all wrong. He had expected the other man to be almost expressionless; cold as his country was but no, he was quite the opposite. France could feel heat radiating from his body. He could see Russia's face twitch with pleasure after every stroke. The way he blushed; the way his eyes fluttered shut as he bit down onto his lip, desperately trying to stave off his orgasm.
He couldn’t though and France watched with excitement as Russia came. His eyes were on Russia’s face, watching every muscle on his face respond to the sensation. The long drawl Russia let out as he bucked up into France’s hand made every hair on the blonde’s neck stand on end. The sound was exquisite and unexpected. He had never heard such a sound; a moan of pure innocence. It sounded almost confused, matching Russia’s expression perfectly.
“Are you okay?” France asked, withdrawing his hand and raising it to his mouth. He absent-mindedly licked up the fluid on his hand, a smirk gracing his features as Russia let out a mortified groan.
“S-stop that!” Russia snapped, sitting up and pushing France off him onto the bed. “That’s disgusting. I can’t possibly taste nice so don’t lick it up!”
France slid over the bed from where he had been thrown to and wrapped his arms around Russia’s large torso from behind him. He couldn’t help but suddenly notice that even though he had opened Russia’s shirt, his coat and various undergarments remained on his body. He wanted to see more of the other man suddenly.
“Russia, don’t be so silly. Being intimate means doing such things. It’s perfectly natural,” France mumbled as he nuzzled Russia’s neck, his hands running up and down his body as he did so. “Besides, you taste delicious.”
“It isn’t,” Russia said softly, placing his hands onto France’s thighs as he leaned back into his arms. “Nothing about this is natural. You’re a man, I’m a man... I...don’t think I can do this with you... It’s not you though...I don’t think I can do this with anyone...”
His words didn’t matter to France by this point. France knew people well enough to know when they were lying; to know why they were simply stalling for time. Although Russia’s choice of phrases hurt him, he couldn’t help but be concerned about the other man. He was scared, that much was apparent but it seemed more than just ‘first time’ worries.
“Hush... You can do this,” France reassured, pressing his lips against Russia’s neck. “How about we remove your clothes?”
“No!” Russia yelped almost, jumping up and wrapping his own arms over his chest as he turned around and looked down at France. “I really don’t want you seeing me... naked... can’t we do this with my clothes on?”
France held back a laugh, standing up and pulling Russia into a kiss, pulling him back slightly before he dropped down onto the bed, still holding Russia in his arms. “Don’t be silly. How about we at least lose your coat and blazer? You can keep the shirt on...and the scarf”
Russia stared at France for a moment before once again, slid off the bed and removed his outer clothing. He could feel France’s eyes on his body. He could sense the other nation wanted to see more of him but he just couldn’t bring himself to drop his shirt from his shoulders. His body was a map of his life and it showed his past sins; unforgivable sins. His hands lingered at his trousers. France hadn’t even unbuttoned them...
He suddenly felt embarrassed again. He had come without even getting his pants off.
“Do you want to take your trousers off?” He heard France ask from behind him. Slowly shaking his head, he turned around only to find France completely stark naked and sprawled on the bed, a rose between his teeth. He was about to question where the flower had come from until he quickly noticed a vase of them on the night stand. Of course.
“Why are you... naked...” Russia mumbled, allowing his eyes to run down France’s body. It was different to his own. France, for one, had hair across his chest, trailing down to his penis (which Russia couldn’t help but feel rather intimidated by). His own chest was bare but it was by choice. He didn’t care for much body hair... France however, clearly liked to keep things natural.
France didn’t answer, instead he tapped the bed, inviting Russia over.
He hesitated as he took a seat again and allowed France to straddle him. He once again watched as France made his way down his body with his lips, kissing every part of flesh on his torso, nipping the skin; teasing it, making sure to leave his mark before he travelled further south. This time, he flipped open the button on the trousers before he tugged the zipper down.
He was hard again. It hadn’t taken much. France nuzzling his neck had been enough to arouse him. It made him blush something chronic but by the noise France made as he fondled him, he didn’t seem to mind how easily he was turned on.
“Why do you like me?” Russia asked as France pulled down his trousers slightly, leaving them halfway down his hips as he looked up.
“You’re a very interesting person. You’re different,” He started, smiling at Russia before he went back to what he was doing, relieved that Russia wasn’t stopping him. Throwing the trousers off the bed, he raised Russia’s legs in the air and placed them on his shoulders. Turning his head and kissing both ankles momentarily, he continued speaking, moving his lips down each leg. “You’re intelligent. You’re attractive and incredibly sexy, not that you’d believe it.” He paused at Russia’s knees, sliding his fingers through the creases in the legs and brushing his fingertips against the sensitive skin behind the knees. “You’re the most fascinating person I have ever encountered and I am infatuated with you.”
Russia let out a long moan as France’s lips stopped at his inner thighs. He could feel breath on his crotch, sending his body temperature soaring. He wanted more; he wanted it all but France was taking his time.
“My Russia, your skin is so hot...” France drawled, running his fingers along the waistband of Russia’s boxers. “Are you hot?”
“N-No...” Russia lied, raising his hand to his mouth. He couldn’t bare to look down at France. His mouth was so close to his erection. He could feel the other man’s chin brush against his balls as he spoke; the stubble on his face prickling through the thin fabric of his underwear. He didn’t want to find such a simple thing arousing but his body wouldn’t stop reacting to the most basic of actions.
“So Russia doesn’t want me to remove these?” He asked, pinging the waistband, purposely moving his face forward to his nose brushed against Russia’s cock as he spoke again.
Russia narrowed his eyes. France was mocking him but he couldn’t bring himself to shout at the other man. He was too aroused to do anything but whimper a simple “Please...” He gasped, unable to suppress another moan as he felt the cold night air on his hot lower extremities so suddenly as France removed his boxers.
He waited to feel something around his dick. A hand; a mouth. Instead, he got neither. Feeling impatient, he looked down at the other man, only to see him nestled between his legs with a small tube and packet. He couldn't even remember France getting them out... but then everything that had passed was already turning into such a blur.
“W-What’s all that?!” Russia stammered out, tensing up as France’s hand disappeared from sight. He didn’t even have a chance to protest as France slipped a finger inside him and began sliding it in and out.
“Just some lubricant and a condom. I don’t know what you may have heard about me but I do not find pain or disease sexy,” he said bluntly before he dipped his head down to kiss Russia’s thigh as he added another finger, but found himself not moving them as he arched an eyebrow with concern. “Are you okay?”
Russia nodded, whimpering as France’s fingers nudged into him. “Hurts a little...” He said with the smallest voice. Part of him wanted to clamp his legs together and run away but he truly wanted France to just get on with it. He didn’t care if it would hurt. He wanted it over and done with so he could deal with the consequences. He had to know if he was truly just another toy for France to discard once he was done. “Keep going.”
To Russia’s relief, France didn’t say anything further. Instead, he continued stretching him out, gently spreading his fingers for what felt like an eternity until he curled his digits and brushed against something Russia hadn’t even known about until now. He found himself letting out a noise he never thought would pass through his lips. A noise of pure lust; a wanton moan that forced France to press into the spot again.
“Ah, Russia likes that...” France muttered, placing another kiss to his inner thigh. “It is to be expected.”
Russia felt his entire body heat up with embarrassment as he tried to muffle his own voice with his scarf.
“P-please, I want more.”
“You’re not ready ye-” His voice was cut off as Russia pulled his body up from the bed and grabbed the condom from his hand. “Do you know how to put one of those on another person?” He said with a slightly condescending tone.
“Y-Yes!” Russia stammered, staring down at the small foil packet as he knelt in front of France. Fumbling with it, he tore the packet open and tried to ignore France’s chuckle as the rubber ring flew into the air and landed on his own head.
With a slight pout, he grabbed the condom and tried to recall how they had done it in pornographic films he had seen. He gazed down at France’s erection, swallowing hard as he balanced it on the tip, only to hear a quiet “Other way” from the blonde.
Blushing furiously, he flipped it over, holding the tip as he rolled it down France’s shaft, intimidated as it barely reached the bottom. He wasn’t sure how well such things were supposed to fit and he found the lubricated item to be slightly amusing, but that didn’t help his body from tensing up at the mere thought of being fucked by what was inside it.
“How do you want to do this? Would you prefer to lie down... or do you want to be on all fours?”
“Don’t be vile. Do you see me as some sort of dog? Don’t you want to see me or something? Do you really see me as a piece of meat to stick your dick in?” Russia snapped, glaring at France for a moment as he allowed his own insecurities to flood from his mouth so suddenly.
“Hey hey... My love, please be calm. I was simply asking for your own comfort. Of course I want to see your face,” he paused, placing his hands on Russia's chest. “Your body...”
Russia cleaned his throat before he shuffled forward and straddled France, sitting in his lap. He could feel France's cock slide between his cheeks as he shifted himself. “Want to do it like this,” he said as he sat up a little.
“I want to see how beautiful my Russia looks when he feels good,” France uttered, wrapping his arms around Russia as he adjusted his position. He ignored the weight of the other man as he lowered their bodies to the bed. he didn’t want to do any sudden movements, despite what his body wanted to do.
“P-Please, stop lying to me,” Russia said quietly, turning his face to the side. The words France continued to say made his heart ache. Although his mind told him France’s words were false, his heart believed every little thing he said.
France shook his head, taking hold of both of Russia’s arms, placing them above his head and holding them in place with one hand as he allowed his other to trail down Russia’s body. “My words are true. Please believe me,” he said as he wrapped his hand around Russia’s erection, gently stroking it as he started to slowly thrust his hips.
Russia’s eyes snapped open as he felt pleasure rush through his body from the feelings. He didn’t make any move to pull his arms from France’s grasp. Instead, he looked down at France’s skilled hand as it worked his cock. It felt different to before. Even though it was the same thing, all he felt now was sheer euphoria as France continued to move.
He glanced up at the blonde’s face and his felt his body shudder. His expression was divine. Concentration was apparent as he continued his ministrations. The way he furrowed his brow; the way his tongue darted out to moisten his own lips. He was ignoring the sweat dripping down his face. Ignoring the hair poking into his eyes. Instead, he was paying all his attention to Russia.
His mind suddenly let up and allowed his heart to take over. Reason and logic finally kicked in and batted away his insecurities. A man who only wanted him as another name on a list wouldn’t work so hard, would he? His mind had been saying yes all along but now, it only told him that France’s words and actions were true.
“I-I...” Russia panted, biting his own lip for a moment as he felt the onset of his own orgasm. “I believe you,” he said with a shaky voice, his body quivering as he felt France move inside him faster; the pace making his breath hitch as he tried to breathe.
He couldn’t stop his body from moving at the same pace, his own hips thrusting up into France’s hand, meeting France’s own movements as he lowered them again. He slid his arms out of France’s grasp, moaning loudly as that hand immediately found its way onto his chest, pinching his nipples playfully. He looked up at the other man, unable to stop himself from smiling as he saw a smirk grow on his face.
“Does it... feel good?” France asked, quickening the pace with his hand.
“A-Amazing,” Russia replied with a moan, clutching at the sheets underneath him. “I want to...Want to...” He panted.
“Want to come?”
Russia nodded fervently, unable to stop his body from trembling as he felt ecstasy coarse through his veins for that one moment; that moment of rhapsody as he closed his eyes. France had adjusted his position just in time, jabbing into his most sensitive spot over and over as he rode out his own orgasm, his body shaking as he let out a long groan.
His body suddenly felt so numb, but he could still feel pleasure from France’s movements as he tried to seek his own climax. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t move. Instead, all he could do was lie there as France let go of his cock and gripped onto his hips. He wasn’t sure if France had suddenly got rougher or if his body was just overly tender now but the sight of France pounding into him, concentrating only on his own pleasure now was enough to make every inch of himself tingle.
“F-France... kiss me...” Russia mumbled, allowing his arms to drift into the air. Instantly, he found himself able to hug France closer as he leaned in, their lips coming together in a lust-filled kiss as France continued to push into Russia sporadically, with more need than before.
“It’s okay to come, you don’t have to prove your stamina to me,” he mumbled between kisses, allowing his tongue to delve inside France’s mouth. This was the first time he had taken control of a kiss and all he could do was imitate what France did, teasing the other man’s tongue; gentle massaging it with all the energy he could muster.
Russia felt a shock of pain as France dug his fingers into his sides, stopping the kiss to flop his head down onto Russia’s chest as he jabbed shallowly inside a few more times before he completely allowed his body to fall down. Had he finished? He had stopped moving but remained inside him.
He didn't move. Instead, he simply lay there atop Russia, panting heavily, uttering several French phrases Russia failed to understand.
“Do you mind getting off me for a moment?” Russia grumbled, trying to push the blonde off him only to fail miserably as his body refused to give him any strength.
“Don’t want to,” France mumbled as he nuzzled Russia’s neck, still euphoric from his own orgasm.
“Please get off me,” Russia said flatly, squirming under France. He didn’t know what the etiquette was concerning post-coital activities. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to stay or leave. He wasn’t sure if they were supposed to talk about it or never mention it.
“Don’t be grumpy Russia, I just want to be in you a little longer. You’re divine,” he uttered, tilting his head to the side to watch his finger as he traced invisible patterns on Russia’s chest.
“France, I’m asking you to get off me... and get out of me too.” He was embarrassed by what they had done but happy at the same time. His heart was pounding and he wanted to say so much, but all he could do was tell France to get off him. He felt rude, but he couldn't think of what to say. He wasn't good with words at the best of times.
He let out a low groan as he finally felt France withdraw from him. His body was still throbbing and without France on top of him, he could see his limbs shaking slightly.
“I’m cold,” he said softly, turning over to face France as he settled down beside him. He gazed into the other man's eyes, his heart jumping as France smiled at him and shuffled forward before he kissed him gently on the lips.
Without speaking though, France took Russia into his arms and pulled him closer, holding him tightly as they both drifted off to sleep.
--
Russia awoke slowly, instantly remembering the events of the night before. His body ached all over. He couldn’t even remember falling asleep. He definitely couldn’t recall going under the sheets... he ran his hands over his torso, suddenly realising his shirt was gone. He most certainly did not remember removing his shirt.
He turned over, expecting France to be there but instead, all he found was an empty spot. A cold empty spot.
How long had he been alone?
“France?”
He sat up slightly, clutching the sheet to his chest. France was gone. He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.
“Of course he’s gone, why wouldn’t he be?” He mumbled, sliding under the sheets. He was ashamed of how he had actually allowed himself to believe France lies. He had heard so many bad things about France and he had taken them all in...his mind had convinced him fully that France was not one to be trusted yet he had let his heart take over; let his heart lead him into bed with France and now he had given up the one last pure thing about himself.
He was just another notch on France’s bedpost now. Another experience he would be able to gloat about, or perhaps not. Rubbing his face into the pillow, he allowed memories of the previous night flash before his eyes. He doubted France would be gloating about it any time soon. He wasn’t as attractive as any of France’s previous conquests; his body wasn’t as toned; wasn’t as lean... He had no one feature that would set him apart from any of the other people France had shared his bed with.
But to him, France would always be there in his mind; in his heart. He would always be the one and as he felt his heart ache slightly, he would be his last. He had made a mistake and he would not repeat it again.
“I’m such an idiot,” he said as he bashed the pillow with his fist.
“And why is that, beautiful?” a voice chimed in and he felt the bed dip down. “I happen to think you are very intelligent.”
Russia scrambled around and sat up, blinking hard. “W-What are you doing here?”
France frowned for a second. “...this is my house?” He said slowly, raising the tray he held in the air. “I made you breakfast. I made croissants, from scratch.” He winked, smiling as he placed the tray on Russia’s lap. “Also, jam from England. If it’s terrible, we can just throw it over the balcony.”
Russia almost drooled as the smell of the fresh croissants filled the air before him. Taking hold of one, he realised they were still warm. France had made them for him, with his own hands... he had gone out of his way just for him.
“They smell... nice.”
“They are nice. They’re fantastic actually. Why are you an idiot anyway?” France asked again, shuffling further onto the bed and sitting astride Russia. He took hold of one of the croissants, breaking a small part off and holding it up to Russia’s lips. “Why is Russia an idiot?”
Russia looked down at the bread France was holding out to him. “It’s nothing,” he uttered, opening his mouth as France pushed it into his mouth. As he chewed it, he stared at France. He hadn’t gone anywhere. He had just gone to cook breakfast for him.
“Nothing?” France asked again, opening the jar of jam and pushing his finger inside, sniffing the substance on the end of his finger for a moment. Running it along Russia’s lips, he bent forward and gently kissed him. “Tastes good. And the jam is quite tasty too.”
“I just thought... it’s nothing, really,” Russia insisted, licking his lips.
France shrugged, pressing his lips to Russia’s forehead before he climbed back off the bed and stretched. “If you’re not busy today and if you’re not fed up of my company by now, I was wondering if you would accompany me to a sunflower field for a picnic?”
Russia couldn’t help but smile at the suggestion. He had mentioned his penchant for the flowers on their first date, when their table at the restaurant had them in a vase. He couldn’t believe he had remembered and he tried to hide his excitement as France turned to face him, awaiting an answer to his question. In an instant, his insecurities about their relationship left his mind once again and this time, he knew they wouldn’t return.
“I would love to.”