It should’ve been one drink, but with Arthur it often became two. Three. Four, and five. Not enough fingers on one hand to keep on counting. Made Francis muse about calling it a day, but then Arthur placed yet another whiskey in front of him, and there really wasn’t any will left in his mouth to turn it down.
“You know…” Francis eyed Arthur from the corner of the eye. The other was making small gestures in the air with one hand, the other had a strong grip around his beer. As was he afraid anyone would claim it theirs.
“Oui? What do I know?” The way Arthur was wrinkling his browns, Francis was quite sure he didn’t knew at all.
“That-ehh..” Arthur seemed to have lost it himself. He tapped the fingers wonderingly at the desk, sending Francis a pondering look. “That… There’s… alcohol. In that one. Whiskey.” He nodded shortly towards Francis’ glass before turning his back to him again, suddenly very interested in the wall. It could be a fairy, the Frenchman reminded himself, but for him it just looked like a plain old wall.
Francis nodded. “Ah, well, thanks for reminding me.” He gulped down the shot in one mouthful. His head was starting to feel surprisingly light and his brain a little dizzy. It was like there were only two thoughts left, one telling him to stop drinking, the other to continue; and right now they were chasing one another with forks, yelling: “I’ve got you, I’ve got you!” The picture made him chuckle.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he whispered breathless with a smile, fingering the glass of whiskey closer. Seemed like Arthur had ordered him yet a shot. The Englishman’s eyes were resting on him, he became aware.
“No, you haven’t, you git,” Arthur spat back, guessing the words were meant on him. He turned in the chair to face him, reaching out a hand. It hesitated. Fingers touched his shoulder lightly. “I’ve got you.”
Francis blinked. The look on the other’s face wasn’t jokingly (well, at least not on purpose). Arthur’s green eyes were calm, and his cheeks flustered. He felt an urge to point it out getting stuck in his throat. “What’s that you say in England? Oh, now I remember – bullocks.” He chuckled and placed a warm hand at the top of Arthur’s. Just as he let go of the desk to do that, he felt the body sway a little, and had to support himself with the other. “Who.. no more whiskey for me.”
“Can’t take it?” A smile flashed across Arthur’s lips. It reminded Francis of Alfred, but then again, they were almost family. Arthur freed his hand from underneath Francis’ and let it slide down his back instead. “I knew it. You’re a pussy.”
“Mind your language.”
“Could be my pussy.” It wasn’t like he didn’t like Arthur coming on to him, but heck no; it wasn’t like he was going to be anyone’s pussy. What kind of word was that anyway? Certainly not French.
“Speak French, it’s the only language I understand,” Francis said sluggishly. Arthur grinned. The Frenchman tried keeping an eye on him as he leaned in, his hand now resting on his rear.
It was like there were only two thoughts left, one telling him to stop drinking, the other to continue; and right now they were chasing one another with forks, yelling: “I’ve got you, I’ve got you!” The picture made him chuckle.
Lol Xd this portrays the drunkeness quite well...and it made me LOL XD A cookie for you :3
“I think there’s one more language you get.” The hot breath of Arthur’s brushed against his ear, making him blush pink. A wet tongue poked its way into his ear, slowly licking along the lines to the cheek. “Did you know; in some countries, touching is considered the best way of speaking.” He doubted the Englishman was telling the truth, but if he was, he had to try going to that country sometime soon.
He felt his stomach twitch. “Arthur, I’m not feeling well.”
“Of course you aren’t, you took that shot of vodka in one mouthful.”
“Vodka? I thought.. it was whiskey?” A chuckle. Not from him. From Arthur. He knew it, the Frenchman realized, he knew he thought it was simple whiskey. He wanted it to turn out like this. Horny old man.
“Francis.” The breath tickling his ear again.
“Mhmm?”
“Let’s move to our room.”
Yes. Their room. They were in Germany for business. Arthur had made it clear, that having business in Germany meant at least one drunk night. He’d just never imagined that night included sharing beds. But he was France. Drunk or not, he could sway Arthur off his feet. Hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t before.
“Yeah,” Francis nodded, “yeah, let’s.”
--
It would be a lie to say Francis wasn’t horny. A bite, a lick. Arthur was doing better with the mouth to his tights than when he spoke. He was on his back, sprawled across their bed, legs spread. Arthur was slowly travelling up one of them with sloppy kisses, making his flesh blush red.
“Fuck, I’m hard.” Arthur just mumbled some kind of answer, Francis didn’t really care. As the other pressed his nose to his cock, he couldn’t care.
Arthur had slim fingers. Slim and elegant, like a gentleman, and they felt so good around his shaft. He made a rhythm, pumping, leaning forward. Their eyes met shortly, then Arthur engulfed him at once.
“That’s right. That’s the way.” Francis closed the eyes, his fingers found their way into the other’s mess of hair. He yanked slightly with a moan. The tongue swirled around his head, licked his pre-cum off the slit, groaned. “I so want to fuck you,” he sighed.
Almost immediately, Arthur let go of his cock, and Francis heard himself whimper. Manly, mind you.
“If anyone’s fucking anyone, it’s going to be me on top of you.” Arthur crept his way up the Frenchman’s body. As he looked him in the eyes, a smile couldn’t be held back. “You,” Arthur breathed, licking his lips, “is a helpless, drunk fool. I know about your Frenchmen, you’re used to your petty wine. Can’t handle real alcohol. Well, my luck.”
Francis blushed red in irritation. “Mon Cher, don’t tell me you-“
“- got you drunk to be able to do this? I’m no innocent lad.” Arthur sent him a drunken smile. It was clear he was pretty stoned himself. His eyes were swaying though focused on Francis’ face, his body was pink from being heated up with liquid. Francis’ slowly licked his lips.
“I think I’m in a better state to dominate than you, still,” Francis smiled, reaching a hand up to pet Arthur’s hair. The other growled and pushed it away.
“Don’t.” Arthur lowered his head to the French’s ear, whispering: “I want me in you. Around me. I want to see your sweaty face while you moan for the British Empire.”
Francis sucked in his lower lip, chewing slightly on it. “Fuck, Arthur, don-“
“Don’t what?” Arthur’s breath leaked of alcohol. Francis wrinkled his nose, but every thought got lost as Arthur reached down to grip his cock again. Francis gasped. Arthur smiled. “I think it’s time you gave up and just.. enjoyed.”
“I’m no bottom, Arthur,” he moaned, bucking the hips slightly.
“Really?”
“Re- aah!” Francis’ eyes went wide and blank. A finger slowly slid in him, bucking. Second finger, scissoring. Oh god. Three fingers, fucking. “F-fuck.” He closed his eyes, own fingers digging into the sheets.
“That’s a good boy,” Arthur whispered, slipping the fingers out with a wet sound before sliding in again, four fingers, stretching. With the other hand he pumped his own cock that was already dripping with pre-sperm. He slid the liquid around the angry-red head, down, making himself ready for what he’d been waiting for the whole evening.
Francis’ small moans didn’t make it easier for him to be patience.
Four fingers. In. Out. In. Out. Slip. Ready. He grabbed the Frenchman’s legs, nails digging in to the flesh, making him yelp. Arthur smirked. “You think this hurts? Save your groans for later, Francis.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Technically, as was he just doing any day work, he lifted the legs from the bed, placing himself between the spread legs. As he pressed the head of his cock to Francis’ entrance, the others hands went straight to his shoulders.
“You,” Francis hissed, “if this hurts, I’ll scratch your face to a” hic “bloody pulp!”
Arthur frowned and wrinkled the shoulders. “Hands off – with all the one-nighters you’ve had, you know how it feels,” he spat back. Francis sent him a death-glare, but then let the arms slip around Arthur’s neck instead, pulling him a little down.
Arthur pressed in. The slick wetness engulfed his cock with tight sides, making Arthur gasp. Making Francis whimper. The arms around the Englishman’s neck tightened, dragging him further down.
“Shit.”
“Should I wait?” Arthur spoke with a heavy breath, watching Francis with smiles in his eyes. Francis frowned.
“I’m no bitch.” Pained voice. “Come on – get going!”
Arthur chuckled. Then he pressed himself in all the way, moans couldn’t be held back. Francis’ face was wrinkles of pain, as he was throwing the head from side to side, his nails digging into Arthur’s neck. “Fuck, that hurts.” No lube. Bad idea. His head was dizzy, now it was giving him a headache. Arthur was moving by instinct.
“You,” out, “were the one who told me,” in, gasp, “to keep going.” Out. Arthur was close to coming. The pain was starting to lift from Francis’ face, and it turned to slow pleasure, as Arthur’s fingers went to his cock, pumping it furiously. With the other hand he lifted Francis’ left leg a little more, moving a little, making himself able to hit the sweet spot of Francis’.
“Yes!” Arthur wet the lips with the tongue, eyes half lidded, watching his partner as said person finally gave a moan of satisfaction. A smile crept to his lips, and he let go of the other’s cock to grip his hips instead, fucking him from the ankle that would make his cock hit the spot over and over.
At the brim of coming and with pink cheeks, he was focused on making Francis come with him. The Frenchman was gasping French words, eyes clenched to a point over Arthur. The Englishman pressed a kiss to his cheek to catch his eyes, smile, then pressing his lips to his in a raw kiss.
“Arthur, I can’t-“ Francis mumble went to whimper at the other’s lips as he shot his seed across the stomach. Arthur gasped as the tightness around his cock clenched, and came hard inside the other. He pressed his nose to Francis, lips slowly moving in sloppy kisses as he was riding his orgasm out.
“God yes…” Francis dragged the other all the way down, cheek to cheek. “God yes…”
“You never… never came across the… British…”
“Empire, I know,” he breathed heavily. A smile flickered across his lips as he patted Arthur’s sweaty back. “Want to see if I can make you squeal French?”
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(Anonymous) 2009-04-17 05:39 am (UTC)(link)Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (1/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-02 06:46 pm (UTC)(link)“You know…” Francis eyed Arthur from the corner of the eye. The other was making small gestures in the air with one hand, the other had a strong grip around his beer. As was he afraid anyone would claim it theirs.
“Oui? What do I know?” The way Arthur was wrinkling his browns, Francis was quite sure he didn’t knew at all.
“That-ehh..” Arthur seemed to have lost it himself. He tapped the fingers wonderingly at the desk, sending Francis a pondering look. “That… There’s… alcohol. In that one. Whiskey.” He nodded shortly towards Francis’ glass before turning his back to him again, suddenly very interested in the wall. It could be a fairy, the Frenchman reminded himself, but for him it just looked like a plain old wall.
Francis nodded. “Ah, well, thanks for reminding me.” He gulped down the shot in one mouthful. His head was starting to feel surprisingly light and his brain a little dizzy. It was like there were only two thoughts left, one telling him to stop drinking, the other to continue; and right now they were chasing one another with forks, yelling: “I’ve got you, I’ve got you!” The picture made him chuckle.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he whispered breathless with a smile, fingering the glass of whiskey closer. Seemed like Arthur had ordered him yet a shot. The Englishman’s eyes were resting on him, he became aware.
“No, you haven’t, you git,” Arthur spat back, guessing the words were meant on him. He turned in the chair to face him, reaching out a hand. It hesitated. Fingers touched his shoulder lightly. “I’ve got you.”
Francis blinked. The look on the other’s face wasn’t jokingly (well, at least not on purpose). Arthur’s green eyes were calm, and his cheeks flustered. He felt an urge to point it out getting stuck in his throat. “What’s that you say in England? Oh, now I remember – bullocks.” He chuckled and placed a warm hand at the top of Arthur’s. Just as he let go of the desk to do that, he felt the body sway a little, and had to support himself with the other. “Who.. no more whiskey for me.”
“Can’t take it?” A smile flashed across Arthur’s lips. It reminded Francis of Alfred, but then again, they were almost family. Arthur freed his hand from underneath Francis’ and let it slide down his back instead. “I knew it. You’re a pussy.”
“Mind your language.”
“Could be my pussy.” It wasn’t like he didn’t like Arthur coming on to him, but heck no; it wasn’t like he was going to be anyone’s pussy. What kind of word was that anyway? Certainly not French.
“Speak French, it’s the only language I understand,” Francis said sluggishly. Arthur grinned. The Frenchman tried keeping an eye on him as he leaned in, his hand now resting on his rear.
Re: Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (1/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-02 09:31 pm (UTC)(link)Lol Xd this portrays the drunkeness quite well...and it made me LOL XD A cookie for you :3
I love how seme drunk!Arthur is :P
Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (2/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-02 06:49 pm (UTC)(link)He felt his stomach twitch. “Arthur, I’m not feeling well.”
“Of course you aren’t, you took that shot of vodka in one mouthful.”
“Vodka? I thought.. it was whiskey?” A chuckle. Not from him. From Arthur. He knew it, the Frenchman realized, he knew he thought it was simple whiskey. He wanted it to turn out like this. Horny old man.
“Francis.” The breath tickling his ear again.
“Mhmm?”
“Let’s move to our room.”
Yes. Their room. They were in Germany for business. Arthur had made it clear, that having business in Germany meant at least one drunk night. He’d just never imagined that night included sharing beds. But he was France. Drunk or not, he could sway Arthur off his feet. Hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t before.
“Yeah,” Francis nodded, “yeah, let’s.”
--
It would be a lie to say Francis wasn’t horny. A bite, a lick. Arthur was doing better with the mouth to his tights than when he spoke. He was on his back, sprawled across their bed, legs spread. Arthur was slowly travelling up one of them with sloppy kisses, making his flesh blush red.
“Fuck, I’m hard.” Arthur just mumbled some kind of answer, Francis didn’t really care. As the other pressed his nose to his cock, he couldn’t care.
Arthur had slim fingers. Slim and elegant, like a gentleman, and they felt so good around his shaft. He made a rhythm, pumping, leaning forward. Their eyes met shortly, then Arthur engulfed him at once.
“That’s right. That’s the way.” Francis closed the eyes, his fingers found their way into the other’s mess of hair. He yanked slightly with a moan. The tongue swirled around his head, licked his pre-cum off the slit, groaned. “I so want to fuck you,” he sighed.
Almost immediately, Arthur let go of his cock, and Francis heard himself whimper. Manly, mind you.
“But you won’t.” Francis missed with the eyes.
“What?”
Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (3/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-02 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)Francis blushed red in irritation. “Mon Cher, don’t tell me you-“
“- got you drunk to be able to do this? I’m no innocent lad.” Arthur sent him a drunken smile. It was clear he was pretty stoned himself. His eyes were swaying though focused on Francis’ face, his body was pink from being heated up with liquid. Francis’ slowly licked his lips.
“I think I’m in a better state to dominate than you, still,” Francis smiled, reaching a hand up to pet Arthur’s hair. The other growled and pushed it away.
“Don’t.” Arthur lowered his head to the French’s ear, whispering: “I want me in you. Around me. I want to see your sweaty face while you moan for the British Empire.”
Francis sucked in his lower lip, chewing slightly on it. “Fuck, Arthur, don-“
“Don’t what?” Arthur’s breath leaked of alcohol. Francis wrinkled his nose, but every thought got lost as Arthur reached down to grip his cock again. Francis gasped. Arthur smiled. “I think it’s time you gave up and just.. enjoyed.”
“I’m no bottom, Arthur,” he moaned, bucking the hips slightly.
“Really?”
“Re- aah!” Francis’ eyes went wide and blank. A finger slowly slid in him, bucking. Second finger, scissoring. Oh god. Three fingers, fucking. “F-fuck.” He closed his eyes, own fingers digging into the sheets.
“That’s a good boy,” Arthur whispered, slipping the fingers out with a wet sound before sliding in again, four fingers, stretching. With the other hand he pumped his own cock that was already dripping with pre-sperm. He slid the liquid around the angry-red head, down, making himself ready for what he’d been waiting for the whole evening.
Francis’ small moans didn’t make it easier for him to be patience.
Four fingers. In. Out. In. Out. Slip. Ready. He grabbed the Frenchman’s legs, nails digging in to the flesh, making him yelp. Arthur smirked. “You think this hurts? Save your groans for later, Francis.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Technically, as was he just doing any day work, he lifted the legs from the bed, placing himself between the spread legs. As he pressed the head of his cock to Francis’ entrance, the others hands went straight to his shoulders.
“You,” Francis hissed, “if this hurts, I’ll scratch your face to a” hic “bloody pulp!”
Arthur frowned and wrinkled the shoulders. “Hands off – with all the one-nighters you’ve had, you know how it feels,” he spat back. Francis sent him a death-glare, but then let the arms slip around Arthur’s neck instead, pulling him a little down.
“Fine, get over with it.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Re: Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (3/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-06 11:08 am (UTC)(link)Fuck, anon, that's too hot~ *___*
Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-02 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)“Shit.”
“Should I wait?” Arthur spoke with a heavy breath, watching Francis with smiles in his eyes. Francis frowned.
“I’m no bitch.” Pained voice. “Come on – get going!”
Arthur chuckled. Then he pressed himself in all the way, moans couldn’t be held back. Francis’ face was wrinkles of pain, as he was throwing the head from side to side, his nails digging into Arthur’s neck. “Fuck, that hurts.” No lube. Bad idea. His head was dizzy, now it was giving him a headache. Arthur was moving by instinct.
“You,” out, “were the one who told me,” in, gasp, “to keep going.” Out. Arthur was close to coming. The pain was starting to lift from Francis’ face, and it turned to slow pleasure, as Arthur’s fingers went to his cock, pumping it furiously. With the other hand he lifted Francis’ left leg a little more, moving a little, making himself able to hit the sweet spot of Francis’.
“Yes!” Arthur wet the lips with the tongue, eyes half lidded, watching his partner as said person finally gave a moan of satisfaction. A smile crept to his lips, and he let go of the other’s cock to grip his hips instead, fucking him from the ankle that would make his cock hit the spot over and over.
At the brim of coming and with pink cheeks, he was focused on making Francis come with him. The Frenchman was gasping French words, eyes clenched to a point over Arthur. The Englishman pressed a kiss to his cheek to catch his eyes, smile, then pressing his lips to his in a raw kiss.
“Arthur, I can’t-“ Francis mumble went to whimper at the other’s lips as he shot his seed across the stomach. Arthur gasped as the tightness around his cock clenched, and came hard inside the other. He pressed his nose to Francis, lips slowly moving in sloppy kisses as he was riding his orgasm out.
“God yes…” Francis dragged the other all the way down, cheek to cheek. “God yes…”
“You never… never came across the… British…”
“Empire, I know,” he breathed heavily. A smile flickered across his lips as he patted Arthur’s sweaty back. “Want to see if I can make you squeal French?”
OP
(Anonymous) 2009-05-02 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)“Mind your language.”
“Could be my pussy.”
Oh you, Arthur.
I loved this so much! The perfect amount of humor and smut put together. You, writer anon, are awesome.
Re: Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-03 06:01 am (UTC)(link)-cough-
I mean awesome job author!anon
Re: Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-03 09:52 am (UTC)(link)Re: Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2009-05-03 03:18 pm (UTC)(link)Oh, SNAP.