Hetalia: Vanilla/Chocolate
Title: Vanilla/Chocolate
Author: tokene
Recipient: grosse_averse
Rating: NC-16? Almost-smut.
Notes: Prompt was "I'd also like to see seductive!Matthew, for a change!" What you ask for, you get! Well, kind of.
--
Matthew collapsed next to Francis, breathing hard. "Was that okay?" He asked, pulling the covers over their naked bodies.
There was a moment of silence.
"Of course, Mathieu," Francis concluded, leaning over to kiss his lover on the temple. Matthew frowned at the tone, the lack of sweat on his forehead, the lesser flush on his cheeks. He'd thought Francis would have been a better actor.
"... But?"
"But it was a little..." Francis hesitated again, looking up at the ceiling, finding the right word which wouldn't deter Matt too much. "... A little vanilla."
Matthew's frown deepened. Vanilla? He didn't expect to be praised as a master of the art, but "vanilla" ate into his ego just a little bit. They were two guys making love to each other. How vanilla was that, to the average person? But then again, he was of course, Francis (no further explanation should be required for that point), and average standards for sex obviously wouldn't apply.
"Oh. Um. Sorry."
"Ah, do not apologize, Mathieu! It was..."
Matthew just let the words wash over him as he contemplated what would not classify as "vanilla", when the idea hit him. "Don't worry about it, we all need feedback," he whispered, giving Francis a chaste kiss on the lips for the sole purpose of shutting him up.
I'll show him vanilla.
--
Half of the Nations were already seated in the meeting room, Francis included, and their host was still mysteriously missing. Not that anyone noticed. It was seven in the morning, and no one in their right mind wanted to be dressed in suits, clutching papers detailing financial affairs, seated in admittedly-comfortable-but-not-after-six-hours-in-them-chairs. Everyone was decidedly grouchy and irritated with the morning light streaming in from the large windows, too tired (it always seemed like more nations had more action at night than in the day at these meetings) to make small talk or to bother about missing countries. Francis, however, was concerned by the lack of Matthew, who had spoke of "dropping by the kitchen to check on something" first, half an hour ago.
How long could one spend in the kitchen to simply check on-
And then Matthew entered, pushing a tea-trolley, piled high with chocolate-chip pancakes and various condiments. And for once, everyone, noticing him, fell silent.
Matthew however, continued without missing a beat, setting three big plates down the length of the table, arranging bottles of maple syrup, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and assortments of fruits, until Arthur spoke up.
"Matthew, what are you doing?"
Blinking innocently at everyone for a moment, he continued to lay out forks and plates, waving away the attendants who tried to help.
"Well, um, everyone's probably too tired to have gotten breakfast for themselves before this, so I thought it would be nice for me-- As the host of this year's world summit-- to provide everyone with breakfast during the meeting itself. And everyone's more likely to pay attention if they're well-fed," he hastened to add, glancing up at Germany who was just about ready to point out the distraction factor. "And... Well, then we can get out of here faster if we're more productive."
Another collective silence, before being broken by Alfred.
"Wooo! Pancakes, awesome idea, Matty!"
And with that, everyone began to dig in, all parties satisfied with the new distraction.
Matthew himself sat down opposite Francis, smiling as he helped himself to a plate, as the meeting started.
--
By the time Francis realised what the man across the table was up to, the meeting was already under-way, and there was no way he would be able to do anything without infringing on international decorum or rules on public decency.
As he stared down the Canadian, he had a right mind to outlaw (either that or to make it mandatory at every single meeting after this) breakfast at the meeting table. Especially if Matthew was the one doing the preparations.
That same Matthew who was currently tracing his tongue down the silver handle of his cutlery, where maple syrup had dripped from his pancake, down to his hand, which his tongue proceeded to lick clean as well, leaving the slight sheen of saliva.
Swallowing, Francis averted his gaze from Matthew, as he tried to convince himself that this was not at all proper and was in no way the kind of behaviour one should have in a world summit of all places, with other Nations who would most definitely not stand for this kind of- of debauchery-
To hell with that, he thought with finality, openly staring at Matthew once again, watching him desecrate the strawberry on his fork. He was France, for god's sake! People expect the worst of me anyway, so why bother?
Done with the first one, Matthew started on a second chocolate coated strawberry. Spearing it onto his fork, his tongue darted out to give the slightest of licks to the layer of chocolate coating the juicy red flesh. He then put it into his mouth whole, sucking off the dripping chocolate sauce, withdrawing it with an obscenely wet sound, his tongue still lingering on it as if it wasn't quite done with the fruit just yet.
Well. That certainly sent some blood south for Francis. And for once, he was entirely happy to have the knowledge that no one else would have taken notice of Matthew's little... Show. And did Matthew just wink at him?
Francis shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Matt bit into the strawberry. He was convinced that the boy would have known that it would have been a longer than usual meeting, that the break for lunch would be pushed back due to the breakfast he himself oh-so-helpfully provided everyone with, leaving him with an extra-long period of time to be a blatant... cocktease.
And as he caught sight of Matthew reaching out to clean off a few stray flecks of whipped cream (Francis, for the life of him, couldn't decide if he was happy or absolutely furious with the fact that his lover was a messy eater) with his index finger, bringing it to his mouth and-
"What are you playing at?" Arthur hissed at Francis, who was rising from his seat, the Frenchman's face a few shades redder than was probably common for a meeting.
"Lavatory break, Rosbif. Heard of it before?" And with something that sounded an awful lot like a strangled growl (those pants really were uncomfortably tight), he exited the room.
Matthew tried his best not to laugh, as he licked the remaining cream off his fingers.
--
Just when the cooling effect of splashed water on Francis' face was just about taking effect, lips planted on the side of his neck sent the blood back down to where it had come from.
"Wha- Ah, Matheiu! I was just about to go back-"
"Hmm? Why so soon?" One pale hand reached down to his pants and slowly unzipped the fly. And was that lubricant in Matthew's shirt pocket--
As Francis let himself be backed up against one of the toilet stall doors, realisation dawned on him.
They were-- They were going to-- Right here in the--
"Mathieu?" He choked out, voice horse at the feeling of that hand gripping him through his pants.
"Yes, Francis?" Matthew replied, quite casually, giving his lower regions another friendly squeeze.
Gasping, his fingers gripped the edge of the door. "D-Did you-- Mon dieu, Matthieu-- Did you plan thi-"
Somehow managing to look innocent and smug at the same time, Matthew leaned in to kiss Francis' gaping mouth.
He tastes like chocolate, Francis' brain registered, somewhat sluggishly through all the sensations running through him.
Pulling away, Matthew smirked, dropping to his knees, pulling Francis' pants with him. "You said that it was too vanilla," he breathed, pulling the boxers down as well. Francis could only nod helplessly as Matthew reached into his jacket pocket and--
Was that a bar of chocolate?
"So," he continued, quite conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather or some other similarly mundane topic, "I thought you might like to try some chocolate instead."
--
A/N:
OH LOOK I FINISHED IT. 8D
And don't ask me what Matty was going to do with that chocolate, okay? I-I honestly have no idea either. I hope this was alright, I'm sorry there was no actual smut or too much of seductive!Matthew. I loved writing this though, heh.
Author: tokene
Recipient: grosse_averse
Rating: NC-16? Almost-smut.
Notes: Prompt was "I'd also like to see seductive!Matthew, for a change!" What you ask for, you get! Well, kind of.
--
Matthew collapsed next to Francis, breathing hard. "Was that okay?" He asked, pulling the covers over their naked bodies.
There was a moment of silence.
"Of course, Mathieu," Francis concluded, leaning over to kiss his lover on the temple. Matthew frowned at the tone, the lack of sweat on his forehead, the lesser flush on his cheeks. He'd thought Francis would have been a better actor.
"... But?"
"But it was a little..." Francis hesitated again, looking up at the ceiling, finding the right word which wouldn't deter Matt too much. "... A little vanilla."
Matthew's frown deepened. Vanilla? He didn't expect to be praised as a master of the art, but "vanilla" ate into his ego just a little bit. They were two guys making love to each other. How vanilla was that, to the average person? But then again, he was of course, Francis (no further explanation should be required for that point), and average standards for sex obviously wouldn't apply.
"Oh. Um. Sorry."
"Ah, do not apologize, Mathieu! It was..."
Matthew just let the words wash over him as he contemplated what would not classify as "vanilla", when the idea hit him. "Don't worry about it, we all need feedback," he whispered, giving Francis a chaste kiss on the lips for the sole purpose of shutting him up.
I'll show him vanilla.
--
Half of the Nations were already seated in the meeting room, Francis included, and their host was still mysteriously missing. Not that anyone noticed. It was seven in the morning, and no one in their right mind wanted to be dressed in suits, clutching papers detailing financial affairs, seated in admittedly-comfortable-but-not-after-six-hours-in-them-chairs. Everyone was decidedly grouchy and irritated with the morning light streaming in from the large windows, too tired (it always seemed like more nations had more action at night than in the day at these meetings) to make small talk or to bother about missing countries. Francis, however, was concerned by the lack of Matthew, who had spoke of "dropping by the kitchen to check on something" first, half an hour ago.
How long could one spend in the kitchen to simply check on-
And then Matthew entered, pushing a tea-trolley, piled high with chocolate-chip pancakes and various condiments. And for once, everyone, noticing him, fell silent.
Matthew however, continued without missing a beat, setting three big plates down the length of the table, arranging bottles of maple syrup, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and assortments of fruits, until Arthur spoke up.
"Matthew, what are you doing?"
Blinking innocently at everyone for a moment, he continued to lay out forks and plates, waving away the attendants who tried to help.
"Well, um, everyone's probably too tired to have gotten breakfast for themselves before this, so I thought it would be nice for me-- As the host of this year's world summit-- to provide everyone with breakfast during the meeting itself. And everyone's more likely to pay attention if they're well-fed," he hastened to add, glancing up at Germany who was just about ready to point out the distraction factor. "And... Well, then we can get out of here faster if we're more productive."
Another collective silence, before being broken by Alfred.
"Wooo! Pancakes, awesome idea, Matty!"
And with that, everyone began to dig in, all parties satisfied with the new distraction.
Matthew himself sat down opposite Francis, smiling as he helped himself to a plate, as the meeting started.
--
By the time Francis realised what the man across the table was up to, the meeting was already under-way, and there was no way he would be able to do anything without infringing on international decorum or rules on public decency.
As he stared down the Canadian, he had a right mind to outlaw (either that or to make it mandatory at every single meeting after this) breakfast at the meeting table. Especially if Matthew was the one doing the preparations.
That same Matthew who was currently tracing his tongue down the silver handle of his cutlery, where maple syrup had dripped from his pancake, down to his hand, which his tongue proceeded to lick clean as well, leaving the slight sheen of saliva.
Swallowing, Francis averted his gaze from Matthew, as he tried to convince himself that this was not at all proper and was in no way the kind of behaviour one should have in a world summit of all places, with other Nations who would most definitely not stand for this kind of- of debauchery-
To hell with that, he thought with finality, openly staring at Matthew once again, watching him desecrate the strawberry on his fork. He was France, for god's sake! People expect the worst of me anyway, so why bother?
Done with the first one, Matthew started on a second chocolate coated strawberry. Spearing it onto his fork, his tongue darted out to give the slightest of licks to the layer of chocolate coating the juicy red flesh. He then put it into his mouth whole, sucking off the dripping chocolate sauce, withdrawing it with an obscenely wet sound, his tongue still lingering on it as if it wasn't quite done with the fruit just yet.
Well. That certainly sent some blood south for Francis. And for once, he was entirely happy to have the knowledge that no one else would have taken notice of Matthew's little... Show. And did Matthew just wink at him?
Francis shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Matt bit into the strawberry. He was convinced that the boy would have known that it would have been a longer than usual meeting, that the break for lunch would be pushed back due to the breakfast he himself oh-so-helpfully provided everyone with, leaving him with an extra-long period of time to be a blatant... cocktease.
And as he caught sight of Matthew reaching out to clean off a few stray flecks of whipped cream (Francis, for the life of him, couldn't decide if he was happy or absolutely furious with the fact that his lover was a messy eater) with his index finger, bringing it to his mouth and-
"What are you playing at?" Arthur hissed at Francis, who was rising from his seat, the Frenchman's face a few shades redder than was probably common for a meeting.
"Lavatory break, Rosbif. Heard of it before?" And with something that sounded an awful lot like a strangled growl (those pants really were uncomfortably tight), he exited the room.
Matthew tried his best not to laugh, as he licked the remaining cream off his fingers.
--
Just when the cooling effect of splashed water on Francis' face was just about taking effect, lips planted on the side of his neck sent the blood back down to where it had come from.
"Wha- Ah, Matheiu! I was just about to go back-"
"Hmm? Why so soon?" One pale hand reached down to his pants and slowly unzipped the fly. And was that lubricant in Matthew's shirt pocket--
As Francis let himself be backed up against one of the toilet stall doors, realisation dawned on him.
They were-- They were going to-- Right here in the--
"Mathieu?" He choked out, voice horse at the feeling of that hand gripping him through his pants.
"Yes, Francis?" Matthew replied, quite casually, giving his lower regions another friendly squeeze.
Gasping, his fingers gripped the edge of the door. "D-Did you-- Mon dieu, Matthieu-- Did you plan thi-"
Somehow managing to look innocent and smug at the same time, Matthew leaned in to kiss Francis' gaping mouth.
He tastes like chocolate, Francis' brain registered, somewhat sluggishly through all the sensations running through him.
Pulling away, Matthew smirked, dropping to his knees, pulling Francis' pants with him. "You said that it was too vanilla," he breathed, pulling the boxers down as well. Francis could only nod helplessly as Matthew reached into his jacket pocket and--
Was that a bar of chocolate?
"So," he continued, quite conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather or some other similarly mundane topic, "I thought you might like to try some chocolate instead."
--
A/N:
OH LOOK I FINISHED IT. 8D
And don't ask me what Matty was going to do with that chocolate, okay? I-I honestly have no idea either. I hope this was alright, I'm sorry there was no actual smut or too much of seductive!Matthew. I loved writing this though, heh.