“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.
Shut up; Arthur knows how it's done (2/4)
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?”