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silverfoxflowerTitle: Je t'aime, l'Allemagne
Fandom: Hetalia
Genre: Slash, Fluff
Word Count: ~1700
Pairing: France/Germany
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Really descriptive blowjob?
Notes: Written for this prompt in the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hetalia_kink meme. Also posted there if you want to read/comment anonomously. Beta'd by a lovely anon whose lj I couldn't catch. If this is you, let me know and I'll credit!
Summary: A morning of domestic tranquility for the EU power couple turns into something more.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
It was a quiet moment, on a quiet day. One which would never go on the history books.
“Allemagne … what would you like for lunch tomorrow?” There was a soft smile in Francis’ voice as he turned to the counter.
Ludwig did not reply, but he did look up from his paper, through his slim reading glasses, and blush. Their … relationship, for lack of a more definite label, had been going on for a couple of years now, but he was still unused to the sight of Francis (long-limbed, slender Francis) in his kitchen and in his life.
It had taken them so long – so much shattered pride and so many scars – to get to this point. To this quiet kitchen at breakfast time, with Francis in a sensible apron and hair tied back making his lunch. Ludwig put down his coffee and newspaper quietly, giving into this dangerous, smothering urge that was making his heart beat faster.
“Alle-” The rest of Francis’ statement disappeared into the air as Ludwig’s arms snaked around his waist and a shy kiss was pressed to the back of his neck. How strange that Francis, who had loved and lost so many times, still responded to every of Ludwig’s clumsy touches with eagerness. Perhaps Francis was merely humoring him; Ludwig hoped that he would never have to find out. “Allemagne, do you have a thing for my tied-up hair?” Francis chided gently.
“I just … I …” Ludwig stammered, resting his forehead against the soft curve of Francis’ neck.
For so long their alliance had been tentative, and Ludwig had understood the reason completely, accepted that this might how it always would be. He had never even dared to dream of being able to take liberties such as this, pressing against Francis’ skin, feeling the flutter of a pulse under his cheek, so, so in love. There were still fears, constant fears that skittered through his mind, that one day Francis would take it all back. Break their fragile happiness with one word and a careless smile. Until then, Ludwig kept his touches gentle, hesitant, gradually learning how his beloved husband liked to be held and petted, gratified when Francis fondly returned the favor.
Ah, and the hair thing. Whenever Francis swept up his hair in a brisk ponytail, Ludwig would come around like a cat towards milk, as if he found the pale line of Francis’ neck to vulnerable to be without guard.
The kitchen was warm, with a muted brightness that encouraged lounging about and savoring the slide of skin against skin. Their home, their home, was all honeyed wood and dark green, Francis’ flamboyant boots nestling comfortably against Ludwig’s sensible loafers. Outside came the ardent barks and yips of Ludwig’s German Shepherds as they frolicked in the yard.
“What is the time?” Francis asked, as the sun slid brightly across the window.
Ludwig pulled away to peer at his watch. Under his arm, his husband quickly slid his diced cucumbers into a glass bowl, something he could not have done while squeezed to Ludwig’s chest. When Ludwig returns to his prior position with a mumbled, “12:04,” Francis melted once again into his embrace. “Do you have somewhere to be?” Ludwig asked politely, concealing the faint uneasiness in his heart.
“Nowhere, other than your arms.” Only Francis could pull off such an outrageous statement, with a quirk of his lips dangerously reminiscent of his lecherous past, and still make Ludwig ache to believe it.
Ludwig knew that there were several things he could be doing, not quite urgent, but which would facilitate the efficiency of tomorrow’s work. But he didn’t move, softening further into the curve of Francis’ back, his breathing slow and fond. He loved the scent of Francis - roses wet with rainwater. “Frankreich,” He mumbled, unthinkingly, his brain flooding with words his mouth didn’t seem able to form. Dangerous words. Ludwig blushed hot, glad that Francis couldn’t see him.
As a country, Ludwig was so … young. Francis was his first, but Ludwig knew that to his husband he was just the latest in a long string of lovers, friends, and allies. How would Francis react if Ludwig unthinkingly spoke these words? Would he be skittish, awkward, backing away with a strained smile? Or would he laugh, because, after all, he had said the same many, many times and not meant a syllable? Ludwig thought that his heart (although this was both scientifically impossible and overdramatic) might crack if Francis did, and so he swallowed his urge to speak, made up for it with a soft kiss pressed to the nape of Francis’ neck that somehow still didn’t feel like enough.
A soft click as France put down the knife and twisted in Ludwig’s grasp. For a fearful second, Ludwig anticipated that his lover might pull away, but all Francis did was turn to hook his arms around Ludwig’s neck and lean back to look at the German with an expression of clear adoration. “Careful, soldier,” Francis’ voice was husky as he leaned close enough for their breaths to mingle. “I’m a married man.”
Ludwig’s heart gave a lurch as he gazed into those bright blue eyes. “Is your husband the jealous type?” He answered gruffly, almost hesitant to be drawn into Francis’ game.
“Oui, very,” Francis purred, pressing them closer together and setting up a slow grind. “He won’t let me even look at another man and I’ve been…so very lonely…”
Not trusting his next words, Ludwig instead, bent to put his mouth to work on Francis’ neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin he had been longing for. His hands descended to tug free the apron strings from his lover’s slim waist. Francis’ soft moans of appreciation sounded like music in the glow of morning sunlight.
Off came the apron. Shirt opened to reveal pinched-pink nipples, still swollen with pink teeth marks from this morning’s activities. Francis’ fashionably slim slacks were quickly unzipped and unbuttoned, pulled down to his ankles. With a last, lingering glance at his lover’s flushed face, Ludwig bent his head to take Francis’ throbbing erection into his mouth.
The strangled moan Francis made, so low in his throat it sounded like an endearment, was all the encouragement Ludwig needed to keep going. He bobbed his head as he sucked eagerly at Francis’ cockhead, pushing the taste around his mouth. Then, hesitantly, he worked Francis’ hard cock past his gag reflex, pausing to breathe every few seconds. It was in Ludwig’s nature to do things efficiently. But love, he learned, should not be the same. Francis had been showing him how, and, while normally he would have been far too embarrassed to put these techniques into practice, today, with the warmth and the sun and the smell of breakfast still lingering in the air, Ludwig blushingly decided that he would … try.
Like Francis had deliciously demonstrated for him earlier, Ludwig hesitantly brought his hand up to palm Francis’ balls, feeling the velvety skin under his fingers as he stroked and squeezed gently. Francis gave an encouraging whimper, and Ludwig continued, pulling back his mouth with an obscene slurp until he only held the head of Francis’ cock. He tongued the leaking slit and felt Francis’ hands in his hair.
“Allemagne,” Francis’ voice was husky, his pupils blown wide, his mouth opened just so Ludwig could see a slick peek of tongue. Others may bite their lips in passion, but Francis was never one to stifle any lustful noise.
Breathing through his nose, Ludwig began sucking in earnest, swallowing reflexively, although that did not keep thin strings of saliva from rolling down his chin. Francis moaned dryly, his thighs tensing under Ludwig’s palms.
Panting, Ludwig let the cock fall out of his mouth with a wet pop, pressing sloppy kisses all along Francis’ length and moving to tongue the underside of his erection and suck at his balls. Meanwhile his fingers were pressing against Francis’ twitching pucker, but without lube, all Ludwig could do was to rub against the sensitive skin there, stretching it with slow circles.
Francis probably had many other lovers, many who gave head with far more technique and a bit less teeth, but when Ludwig looked up, Francis’ cock sucked deep, his face sweaty and flushed and fogging up the bottom of his glasses, Francis’ expression was so broken, so in love, that Ludwig had a sudden, wild, delusion that their hearts were beating to the same rhythm.
“ Je t'aime, l'Allemagne, Je t'aime,” It came out as almost a whisper, given in a voice so raw it hurt to listen to it.
Ludwig startled, almost choked, but at the last minute remembered to open his throat as cum spurted into his mouth, flooding him with the scent, the taste of Francis. Ludwig sucked softly until his lover was dry, and then gently cleaned the softening cock with his tongue.
Francis was trembling, gripping on the counter for purchase, a hard blush on his face, his eyes closed. When Ludwig arose shakily, wiping his mouth with his fingers, Francis turned to look at him.
They just stared for a moment, quiet.
“You said my name,”
“I meant it.” Francis gave a small, sad twitch of his lips. “Désolé, does this unsettle you?”
Ludwig didn’t speak, didn’t want to believe in case it wasn’t true after all, so all he did was move to take Francis in his arms, mouth too jumbled to make sense of what his brain was screaming-
“Ich…” A soft exhale. “Ich liebe dich.” A sharp inhale, uncertain. “Frankreich.”
And there it was. After all the treaties and the wars, the paperwork and the partnerships, moving in together, sharing a bed and a home and a life …
In a quiet moment on a quiet day.
Later, as they were tangled in bedsheets and cooling sweat:
“ Je t'aime, ma charmante épouse.”
“Wife?!” Ludwig shot out of the covers, much to Francis’ amusement. “But you’re the one who wears the … the apron!” He sputtered unconvincingly.
“I assert my duties in bed, non?” France leered, drawing lazy circles on the side of Ludwig’s thigh. “Or don’t you remember why I had to make breakfast this morning…perhaps because you couldn’t stand straight…”
Ludwig merely groaned and sank back into the bedcovers beside Francis’ warmth. That was only true some of the time. Other times he stood just fine thank you very much.
Genre: Slash, Fluff
Word Count: ~1700
Pairing: France/Germany
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Really descriptive blowjob?
Notes: Written for this prompt in the
hetalia_kink meme. Also posted there if you want to read/comment anonomously. Beta'd by a lovely anon whose lj I couldn't catch. If this is you, let me know and I'll credit!Summary: A morning of domestic tranquility for the EU power couple turns into something more.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
It was a quiet moment, on a quiet day. One which would never go on the history books.
“Allemagne … what would you like for lunch tomorrow?” There was a soft smile in Francis’ voice as he turned to the counter.
Ludwig did not reply, but he did look up from his paper, through his slim reading glasses, and blush. Their … relationship, for lack of a more definite label, had been going on for a couple of years now, but he was still unused to the sight of Francis (long-limbed, slender Francis) in his kitchen and in his life.
It had taken them so long – so much shattered pride and so many scars – to get to this point. To this quiet kitchen at breakfast time, with Francis in a sensible apron and hair tied back making his lunch. Ludwig put down his coffee and newspaper quietly, giving into this dangerous, smothering urge that was making his heart beat faster.
“Alle-” The rest of Francis’ statement disappeared into the air as Ludwig’s arms snaked around his waist and a shy kiss was pressed to the back of his neck. How strange that Francis, who had loved and lost so many times, still responded to every of Ludwig’s clumsy touches with eagerness. Perhaps Francis was merely humoring him; Ludwig hoped that he would never have to find out. “Allemagne, do you have a thing for my tied-up hair?” Francis chided gently.
“I just … I …” Ludwig stammered, resting his forehead against the soft curve of Francis’ neck.
For so long their alliance had been tentative, and Ludwig had understood the reason completely, accepted that this might how it always would be. He had never even dared to dream of being able to take liberties such as this, pressing against Francis’ skin, feeling the flutter of a pulse under his cheek, so, so in love. There were still fears, constant fears that skittered through his mind, that one day Francis would take it all back. Break their fragile happiness with one word and a careless smile. Until then, Ludwig kept his touches gentle, hesitant, gradually learning how his beloved husband liked to be held and petted, gratified when Francis fondly returned the favor.
Ah, and the hair thing. Whenever Francis swept up his hair in a brisk ponytail, Ludwig would come around like a cat towards milk, as if he found the pale line of Francis’ neck to vulnerable to be without guard.
The kitchen was warm, with a muted brightness that encouraged lounging about and savoring the slide of skin against skin. Their home, their home, was all honeyed wood and dark green, Francis’ flamboyant boots nestling comfortably against Ludwig’s sensible loafers. Outside came the ardent barks and yips of Ludwig’s German Shepherds as they frolicked in the yard.
“What is the time?” Francis asked, as the sun slid brightly across the window.
Ludwig pulled away to peer at his watch. Under his arm, his husband quickly slid his diced cucumbers into a glass bowl, something he could not have done while squeezed to Ludwig’s chest. When Ludwig returns to his prior position with a mumbled, “12:04,” Francis melted once again into his embrace. “Do you have somewhere to be?” Ludwig asked politely, concealing the faint uneasiness in his heart.
“Nowhere, other than your arms.” Only Francis could pull off such an outrageous statement, with a quirk of his lips dangerously reminiscent of his lecherous past, and still make Ludwig ache to believe it.
Ludwig knew that there were several things he could be doing, not quite urgent, but which would facilitate the efficiency of tomorrow’s work. But he didn’t move, softening further into the curve of Francis’ back, his breathing slow and fond. He loved the scent of Francis - roses wet with rainwater. “Frankreich,” He mumbled, unthinkingly, his brain flooding with words his mouth didn’t seem able to form. Dangerous words. Ludwig blushed hot, glad that Francis couldn’t see him.
As a country, Ludwig was so … young. Francis was his first, but Ludwig knew that to his husband he was just the latest in a long string of lovers, friends, and allies. How would Francis react if Ludwig unthinkingly spoke these words? Would he be skittish, awkward, backing away with a strained smile? Or would he laugh, because, after all, he had said the same many, many times and not meant a syllable? Ludwig thought that his heart (although this was both scientifically impossible and overdramatic) might crack if Francis did, and so he swallowed his urge to speak, made up for it with a soft kiss pressed to the nape of Francis’ neck that somehow still didn’t feel like enough.
A soft click as France put down the knife and twisted in Ludwig’s grasp. For a fearful second, Ludwig anticipated that his lover might pull away, but all Francis did was turn to hook his arms around Ludwig’s neck and lean back to look at the German with an expression of clear adoration. “Careful, soldier,” Francis’ voice was husky as he leaned close enough for their breaths to mingle. “I’m a married man.”
Ludwig’s heart gave a lurch as he gazed into those bright blue eyes. “Is your husband the jealous type?” He answered gruffly, almost hesitant to be drawn into Francis’ game.
“Oui, very,” Francis purred, pressing them closer together and setting up a slow grind. “He won’t let me even look at another man and I’ve been…so very lonely…”
Not trusting his next words, Ludwig instead, bent to put his mouth to work on Francis’ neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin he had been longing for. His hands descended to tug free the apron strings from his lover’s slim waist. Francis’ soft moans of appreciation sounded like music in the glow of morning sunlight.
Off came the apron. Shirt opened to reveal pinched-pink nipples, still swollen with pink teeth marks from this morning’s activities. Francis’ fashionably slim slacks were quickly unzipped and unbuttoned, pulled down to his ankles. With a last, lingering glance at his lover’s flushed face, Ludwig bent his head to take Francis’ throbbing erection into his mouth.
The strangled moan Francis made, so low in his throat it sounded like an endearment, was all the encouragement Ludwig needed to keep going. He bobbed his head as he sucked eagerly at Francis’ cockhead, pushing the taste around his mouth. Then, hesitantly, he worked Francis’ hard cock past his gag reflex, pausing to breathe every few seconds. It was in Ludwig’s nature to do things efficiently. But love, he learned, should not be the same. Francis had been showing him how, and, while normally he would have been far too embarrassed to put these techniques into practice, today, with the warmth and the sun and the smell of breakfast still lingering in the air, Ludwig blushingly decided that he would … try.
Like Francis had deliciously demonstrated for him earlier, Ludwig hesitantly brought his hand up to palm Francis’ balls, feeling the velvety skin under his fingers as he stroked and squeezed gently. Francis gave an encouraging whimper, and Ludwig continued, pulling back his mouth with an obscene slurp until he only held the head of Francis’ cock. He tongued the leaking slit and felt Francis’ hands in his hair.
“Allemagne,” Francis’ voice was husky, his pupils blown wide, his mouth opened just so Ludwig could see a slick peek of tongue. Others may bite their lips in passion, but Francis was never one to stifle any lustful noise.
Breathing through his nose, Ludwig began sucking in earnest, swallowing reflexively, although that did not keep thin strings of saliva from rolling down his chin. Francis moaned dryly, his thighs tensing under Ludwig’s palms.
Panting, Ludwig let the cock fall out of his mouth with a wet pop, pressing sloppy kisses all along Francis’ length and moving to tongue the underside of his erection and suck at his balls. Meanwhile his fingers were pressing against Francis’ twitching pucker, but without lube, all Ludwig could do was to rub against the sensitive skin there, stretching it with slow circles.
Francis probably had many other lovers, many who gave head with far more technique and a bit less teeth, but when Ludwig looked up, Francis’ cock sucked deep, his face sweaty and flushed and fogging up the bottom of his glasses, Francis’ expression was so broken, so in love, that Ludwig had a sudden, wild, delusion that their hearts were beating to the same rhythm.
“ Je t'aime, l'Allemagne, Je t'aime,” It came out as almost a whisper, given in a voice so raw it hurt to listen to it.
Ludwig startled, almost choked, but at the last minute remembered to open his throat as cum spurted into his mouth, flooding him with the scent, the taste of Francis. Ludwig sucked softly until his lover was dry, and then gently cleaned the softening cock with his tongue.
Francis was trembling, gripping on the counter for purchase, a hard blush on his face, his eyes closed. When Ludwig arose shakily, wiping his mouth with his fingers, Francis turned to look at him.
They just stared for a moment, quiet.
“You said my name,”
“I meant it.” Francis gave a small, sad twitch of his lips. “Désolé, does this unsettle you?”
Ludwig didn’t speak, didn’t want to believe in case it wasn’t true after all, so all he did was move to take Francis in his arms, mouth too jumbled to make sense of what his brain was screaming-
“Ich…” A soft exhale. “Ich liebe dich.” A sharp inhale, uncertain. “Frankreich.”
And there it was. After all the treaties and the wars, the paperwork and the partnerships, moving in together, sharing a bed and a home and a life …
In a quiet moment on a quiet day.
Later, as they were tangled in bedsheets and cooling sweat:
“ Je t'aime, ma charmante épouse.”
“Wife?!” Ludwig shot out of the covers, much to Francis’ amusement. “But you’re the one who wears the … the apron!” He sputtered unconvincingly.
“I assert my duties in bed, non?” France leered, drawing lazy circles on the side of Ludwig’s thigh. “Or don’t you remember why I had to make breakfast this morning…perhaps because you couldn’t stand straight…”
Ludwig merely groaned and sank back into the bedcovers beside Francis’ warmth. That was only true some of the time. Other times he stood just fine thank you very much.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 06:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 05:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 09:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 05:15 pm (UTC)I like the soft and friendly atmosphere between the two in this fiction. <3~
no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 08:03 pm (UTC)But Francis being Uke from time to time ... that seems wrong. He's right when he says Ludwig's his wife.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:56 am (UTC)Haha ... that's for sure up to interpretation XD I do have a love for uke!Germany, though
no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 01:05 pm (UTC)Ah, Uke!Ludwig? Ahhh~ I always had them in mind as a switching couple.
Since gay couples tend to do that more often than stick to this "Seme-Uke" thing. I can imagine this with them very well, too.In conclusion, good job, the atmosphere was so soft and loving, just like the two characters. Ludwig made me want to hug him as he kept thinking about rejection. Poor Teddybear~ And oh Francis. Oh Francis. How can I not like this charming frogeater? =7=
Anyway~ Thank you for this nice fanfic~ <3
no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 09:54 pm (UTC)Ahahah, I see why you did that~ <3 But yeah, switching is hot as hell indeed!
Ahhh, why is there nobody to write such things with me when I feel like it? *SHOT*no subject
Date: 2011-08-22 09:57 pm (UTC)Also: France with a ponytail -> yummy! ^___^
no subject
Date: 2011-08-22 10:03 pm (UTC)