“Let me kiss you,” he breathed, leaning in over the barrier of their unborn child. Arthur looked at him suspiciously, then turned his flushed and glowing face aside.
“Mon amour,” Francis, undaunted, purred, the palm of his hand rubbing over the head of Arthur’s cock. Arthur moaned wantonly, hips arching toward the pleasure. Francis wickedly drew his hand away.
“Fine!” Arthur snapped exasperatedly. “Just get the fuck on with it!” Francis pressed a line of kisses from Arthur’s navel, which stood proudly inverted against his taut shirt, to that part of his chest which was bared, to his throat, before drawing back and trying to meet his eyes. He positioned himself at Arthur’s entrance, leaning down to claim his lips gently as he slid in past the initial resistance. Arthur moaned at the burn, stretching more than his fingers had been able to. Francis’ tongue slid into his mouth, and he welcomed it, hand rising to grip the back of Francis’ head.
“So you did want me...” Francis purred, as he pulled out and rocked back in. “How naughty, Angleterre, preparing yourself while you were waiting for me.” Arthur just keened in response, until he was silenced with another kiss. One knee rose of its own accord, toes curling into the plush comforter as he rocked back against Francis’ thrusts. The knowledge that Arthur had anticipated this, had been waiting for it enough to prepare himself... Well, the mental image of a flushed and lovely Arthur stretching himself wide would serve Francis’ fantasies well. He moaned, burying himself to the hilt in Arthur, who gasped and tightened around him, and they groaned together.
The next kiss was sloppy and desparate, as their movements grew more rhythmic and more urgent all at once. Arthur was used to the almost sick feeling of his building orgasm, tightening across his stomach, weighing down on him and crushing the breath from his chest (in a not altogether unpleasant way). He was disappointed that it was so soon, but it had been so long since he had been filled with anything but his own fingers, that it was hardly any surprise. When Francis’ hand wrapped again around Arthur’s cock, torn between the twin pleasures, Arthur pitched his head back and sobbed out a moan, panting Francis’ name as his orgasm rippled through him and he came, pulse pounding like a drum corps in his ears. His stomach continued to clench and roil as the afterwaves washed over him.
Francis came undone not to the sensation of Arthur clenching down on him, but rather the divine bliss that effused his countenance as his hand clutched at sanity and found itself tangled in Francis’ hair, and his head pitched back and he wailed out his release. Francis’ own undoing was more subtle, raising a hand and biting his knuckles as he shuddered out his release, eyes not leaving Arthur’s face.
In the afterglow, suddenly Arthur’s eyes snapped open and he started to panic.
“Get off!” he yelled. “Goddamnit, frog, what the hell did you do! Ow! Oh, God!” His anger diffused into cold panic. Francis responded to the change by scrambling hurriedly off of his overdue lover, and as soon as he pulled out a rush of fluid gushed onto the bed. They both stared at it together, and then pain clamped down over Arthur again, and he clutched his swollen stomach and howled in pain. Francis jumped off the bed and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Arthur snapped, but there was a tinge of fear in his voice.
“Mon Dieu...” Francis murmured under his breath. “You never said anything about staying for the birth. I’ve done what you asked me, that means I can leave, non?” Arthur was about to get up and grab him and (snap him in two for even thinking about leaving) make him stay, when he realized that perhaps Francis had done his duty a bit too well. It hurt to even think about moving his legs, let alone actually try to do so. This realization came with another contraction, and was released in a broken sob.
Francis faltered.
Then he fled.
-
I actually planned to continue this through the birth, but seeing as how that wasn't part of the prompt, I wanted to see if anyone even wanted me to. Hahaha.
Long Due [4/4]
“Mon amour,” Francis, undaunted, purred, the palm of his hand rubbing over the head of Arthur’s cock. Arthur moaned wantonly, hips arching toward the pleasure. Francis wickedly drew his hand away.
“Fine!” Arthur snapped exasperatedly. “Just get the fuck on with it!” Francis pressed a line of kisses from Arthur’s navel, which stood proudly inverted against his taut shirt, to that part of his chest which was bared, to his throat, before drawing back and trying to meet his eyes. He positioned himself at Arthur’s entrance, leaning down to claim his lips gently as he slid in past the initial resistance. Arthur moaned at the burn, stretching more than his fingers had been able to. Francis’ tongue slid into his mouth, and he welcomed it, hand rising to grip the back of Francis’ head.
“So you did want me...” Francis purred, as he pulled out and rocked back in. “How naughty, Angleterre, preparing yourself while you were waiting for me.” Arthur just keened in response, until he was silenced with another kiss. One knee rose of its own accord, toes curling into the plush comforter as he rocked back against Francis’ thrusts. The knowledge that Arthur had anticipated this, had been waiting for it enough to prepare himself... Well, the mental image of a flushed and lovely Arthur stretching himself wide would serve Francis’ fantasies well. He moaned, burying himself to the hilt in Arthur, who gasped and tightened around him, and they groaned together.
The next kiss was sloppy and desparate, as their movements grew more rhythmic and more urgent all at once. Arthur was used to the almost sick feeling of his building orgasm, tightening across his stomach, weighing down on him and crushing the breath from his chest (in a not altogether unpleasant way). He was disappointed that it was so soon, but it had been so long since he had been filled with anything but his own fingers, that it was hardly any surprise. When Francis’ hand wrapped again around Arthur’s cock, torn between the twin pleasures, Arthur pitched his head back and sobbed out a moan, panting Francis’ name as his orgasm rippled through him and he came, pulse pounding like a drum corps in his ears. His stomach continued to clench and roil as the afterwaves washed over him.
Francis came undone not to the sensation of Arthur clenching down on him, but rather the divine bliss that effused his countenance as his hand clutched at sanity and found itself tangled in Francis’ hair, and his head pitched back and he wailed out his release. Francis’ own undoing was more subtle, raising a hand and biting his knuckles as he shuddered out his release, eyes not leaving Arthur’s face.
In the afterglow, suddenly Arthur’s eyes snapped open and he started to panic.
“Get off!” he yelled. “Goddamnit, frog, what the hell did you do! Ow! Oh, God!” His anger diffused into cold panic. Francis responded to the change by scrambling hurriedly off of his overdue lover, and as soon as he pulled out a rush of fluid gushed onto the bed. They both stared at it together, and then pain clamped down over Arthur again, and he clutched his swollen stomach and howled in pain. Francis jumped off the bed and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Arthur snapped, but there was a tinge of fear in his voice.
“Mon Dieu...” Francis murmured under his breath. “You never said anything about staying for the birth. I’ve done what you asked me, that means I can leave, non?” Arthur was about to get up and grab him and (snap him in two for even thinking about leaving) make him stay, when he realized that perhaps Francis had done his duty a bit too well. It hurt to even think about moving his legs, let alone actually try to do so. This realization came with another contraction, and was released in a broken sob.
Francis faltered.
Then he fled.
-
I actually planned to continue this through the birth, but seeing as how that wasn't part of the prompt, I wanted to see if anyone even wanted me to. Hahaha.