((This is the first time I have done one of these, so if I have messed up or not done well enough, please say so! And it is building up to something better, I promise.))
-
The first reason was dislocated fingers.
The wine glass had been knocked over rather quickly. England was about to tell France 'that is what you get for leaving it on the ground' but his mouth was rather occupied. With France's tongue. France was moaning, hands trying to unbutton England's shirt and England trying to stop him at the same time. Half of his mind reminded him where he was.
Certainly his trousers and pants had been discarded some time ago, but... oh, damn.
France had moved down and was sucking very painfully on the skin up the inside of his thigh. Grabbing France's hair, he tried to reposition his head when he lost his balance. Both of them tumbled into the wildflower patch. His hands instinctively were thrown forward to protect himself as he landed on the top of his palms.
“Nice going~” France laughed. With a groan, England thrust downward and filled the other Nation's mouth with his dick. Apparently France was not too upset as he kept his mouth around the head and let his tongue lick up and down the shaft, just as he had to know England liked it.
It was not until he had come screaming that he was aware of how his fingers were not working. France laughed at him again and England kicked him right in the place he had been pleasuring him.
The second reason was his sprained ankle.
“Fuck,” the word hissed out of him as he tried to rearrange his legs around France. This was not what he had intended to do on the business trip, but what did he expect from staying in the same hotel as the French Nation?
“That's what I'm trying to do,” France gasped, hands gripping England's hips hard enough that England assumed there would be bruises in the morning, wincing as England's knee nearly struck his eye. England was trying very hard not to crawl out of his skin, leaning over and biting France's neck. “Dieu!”
“He won't... help you now,” England gasped, France forcing him down on his member without much care for England's comfort. Then again, if he cared for England's comfort he would not have ambushed him in the damned bathroom! Somehow England found his left knee over France's shoulder as he gripped at the stall walls. Please let no one come in here, please... ah, fuck it.
“Still flexible, are we?” France pulled away from his collarbone long enough to smirk at him. England pulled up and let gravity take him down, left foot pressing hard against the wall behind France's head.
No one could say he did not know how to shut France up. Which did not work very well, because the noise that escaped France came out at the same time someone entered the bathroom. Both of them stopped, trying to keep their panting down, France's feet now up on the stall door.
“Really now?” Romano's voice bounced off the walls, the door shutting soon afterward. With that exit call they returned to their current activity.
It was not until they were doing a very bare clean up job and redressing that England fell forward on a weak ankle and pushed over the vase on the counter.
Why did these bathrooms even have vases and pictures? Who was looking?
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 2/?
“What are you doing in here?” England demanded. He was busy trying to get all of the soy sauce off of him from a very disastrous encounter with Japan and China wherein Korea showed up. All he had wanted was to be home, wash off, and go to bed. None of that included France in the equation.
“So sorry,” France said, for once not sounding as if he was teasing him. “I heard you were covered in juice and I had to see... but I am too late!”
“Soy sauce!” England clarified with a scowl as France stepped in, not bothering to shuck off his clothes. “I never said you could come in! My house! You aren't allowed in my house, let alone–” His words ended with a hiss of breath as France's lips encircled a nipple.
England slipped, only saved from bashing his head in against the wall by France's arm catching his back and his hand catching the shower shelf at an odd angle. “Careful,” France smirked, lapping water off of his chest. It was rather unfair, the rate at which England found himself aroused. Thankfully the water drowned out his whimper. France's hand squeezed one of his buttocks, pushing him up slightly so as to press the both of them into the wall.
“I'm tired, so make this quick,” England grumbled into his ear, resting his chin on France's shoulder as he went by feel to try and remove France's wet belt. France laughed quietly.
“Very well.”
“And none of your– nngh!” England moaned as France rubbed his thumb on his tip. “Tricks! Tricks, you frog! None of them!”
“But you like my tricks...” France responded as England finally removed the obstacles and pulled France's pants down, cupping the bulge there and nearly finding himself dropped as a result.
“Watch it!”
“Oh, but I am!”
Somehow England found France thrusting into him, back and shoulders pressed flat against the wall, more wet than he really wanted to be right now. There was nothing to grab on to except for France, so he kept one hand on his own member and the other gripping at that hair which was still bound in a ponytail.
“Ouch!” Thrust.
“Stop.” Very hard thrust. “Com–plaining!” England saw stars.
Suddenly England's head did bash against the wall, but only because France's shoulder had suddenly struck his jaw. England smelt plaster, but kept rocking his hips as he felt the both of them lower to the floor of the shower. France twisted a nipple between his fingers and England choked as he released. France continued his rhythm, not finished yet.
Stabilizing his own breathing, England looked up to see a hole in his wall. “How dare you–” he started, but France covered his mouth with a hand and continued to make him want to start another round.
By the time England had beat France out of his house, pulled out some blackmail to make certain he would pay for the wall, and finally returned to turn off the water he was exhausted. Drying off, England did not even bother to get into his pajamas before collapsing in bed.
He had forgotten to turn off his alarm and when he reached to slap the snooze button, his wrist screamed bloody murder at him.
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 3/?
An argument over who was going to cook breakfast ended up with a very irate England sitting at the kitchen table as France (amused as ever, that bastard) cooked some horrid French meal. France's winning line had been “it is my house”. England could not argue with that. He had tried to, he had tried to say “I could take it from you and it won't be anymore” but France was not amused.
England was going to be amused somehow. And he was going to make up for the fact that he was having to eat French food. Sure, he could leave and go home to eat, but he was hungry now. He could eat here at France's or eat and one of France's restaurants. Making such a big deal out of it to eat at one of the restaurants and have to pay for it would make France laugh even more.
Here goes nothing.
He stood up, sitting on the table as he undid his shirt buttons half way down his chest. “France...”
England had France's attention in an instant (it was the tone) but France seemed unwilling to leave the stove. “Oh no, England. I know what you are doing.”
So England smirked. “All right then. You know what I am doing.” It was because France said that England was determined that France would not know what he was doing. So maybe instead of seducing him he was simply jerk off in front of him. Then France would be hot and bothered and lonely all at the same time.
France swallowed, those eyes unable to leave England's hands as he reached down into his trousers, his facial expressions giving an obvious display as to what France was missing out on. “C'est pas juste!” [[That's not fair!]]
“You... didn't want... my breakfast...” England teased, slouching further on the table as he said so, accentuating his moan more. Just to be an ass. France could call him crude later, he was suffering for it now.
And England had won. He heard France practically dive toward him, grabbing him by the legs and pulling him to the edge of the table, tongue running down his chest. England purred, a leg wrapping around France's thighs as he pushed himself up against him. England was hungry all right, but what he wanted for his meal had changed considerably in the past few minutes. The same could be said for France as his mouth was now between England's legs and doing miracles, for all England was concerned.
Okay, it had been worth it. Right up to the point when they smelled burning. “You left it on the stove?” England spat out, disbelieving it as France back away from him, tripping over the chair and both of them crashing to the ground. “Shit! France?”
“F-fine!” France muttered thru clenched teeth, rubbing at the back of his head, getting to his feet once more and turning off the heat. Well, the heat on the stove. Chest heaving, England lay back on the table, stroking himself once more. Well, he's not finishing it...
“Ah ha!” France came back over, taking his wrists and pinning them over his head. England groaned. He was so close and France had to just– “You little tease.”
“I do try,” England smirked, licking at his lips. France was leaning into his leg and the back of his knee was digging into the side of the table. He shifted his leg so to get more comfortable. “Going to remind me that you're good at this, or can I go and tell everyone you were so unsatisfying that– mgh!”
France's tongue was practically playing hockey with his tonsils. England could barely moan.
Afterward England talked himself out of paying for the chair which now had a crack running up the wood of one of the legs. No, he was too busy trying to talk France into paying for another leg. Most particularly his, because his knee felt as if it were bent out of shape.
-
((Argh, I will get back to writing more of this later. Need sleep right now. D: ))
LMFAO I'M SO HAPPY THE FREEZE LET UP FOR A BIT BECAUSE THIS IS SO AMAZING WETOEDKF:LDKF LKFWETE ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ (First thing I'm doing after crawling out of bed will be to read that article.)
I do spot some wonkiness in sentence structure/syntax (making some scenes hard to picture), but you sure do make up for it in humour ♥ You have no idea how much love I have for hilarious fun, awkward sex, and France/England are ze MASTERS of both hot, smutty, sweet romance and...eccentric, eclectic pseudo-sex. I was literally chewing on my bottom lip to keep from bursting out laughing (past midnight) ♥
Plus, seductive/mischievous!Artie is impossible to NOT LOVE ♥ And I can't help but giggle at the fact that all these bizarre 'studies'/polls come from the UK England's the only one getting injured from his...uh, sexual encounters with France. I wonder if mon cher Francis is doing it intentionally unconsciously? (As I can't imagine that he would be so terrible at sex as to bash England's head through his bathroom wall WHILE they're screwing FFFFFF)
Also, I love how calm England is about random sex with France in random places, random Romano knowing exactly what was going on, and France being French randomly horny at the most inconvenient moments. Oh, and how this fill started with "The first reason was dislocated fingers." I read that as "was dislodged fingers" and went "Yeah, Artie, I can see why that would be a problem. *lips twitching*"
Have a lovely rest--I hope to see more of this fill tomorrow~ Have you written other FrUK?
HAHAHAHAHA Captcha loves your fill too: minimum bunts XDDDDD
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 4/?
((Thanks! The wonkiness is mostly because I have never written sex before. At least, not to this extent, not with any detail. I am definitely better at humor than sex, but that is not saying much for me. Maybe the more I write it the better it will flow? Here is to hoping it will! Yes I have written other FrUK, but as I said without writing the sex directly. FrUK is my OTP. XD
Erm... not so funny part, but I promise to have more humor in the rest of the story rambling!))
-
Then there was his bruised shoulder. Hell, that one had even been planned!
They were not even being rough this time.
England lay on top of France, kissing him gently as he felt France's hands stroking his hair and down his neck. His partner was saying something, but it was in French and England was not bothering to try and translate it (a part of his mind worried that the very calm and beautiful sounding words might turn into something he would be insulted by).
“God, you're beautiful,” England breathed out, almost wanting to cling to France rather than have sex with him. France smiled as he spoke once more. England simply took the pillow out from under France's head and dropped it off the side of the bed to get it out of the way.
He had the feeling he might be made to regret what he said tonight, but that was in the future and England was simply being honest now.
Running his fingers thru France's hair he brought his mouth down to France's cheek, kissing from there down his jaw, then back to his ear. “And right now you're mine. Mine... all right?”
He felt France's hand caress his cheek and England leaned into it. “Always.”
That was a big fucking lie and England almost burst into tears because of it. Instead, he began to suck on the skin right under France's earlobe as he blindly reached for the lube.
On this day of all days they were equals and they accepted it. England pushed into the blinding tight heat that was France knowing that as soon as they had recovered they would be swapping positions. Happy Anniversary, right dear?
Unfortunately, during the respite in their escapades they both drank a little too much and England was subjected to some of the harshest sex they had ever had without drawing blood. Not that he was complaining, even as they broke the bed frame. Correction: England had broken it with his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” France asked him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.
“Fine,” England responded, catching France's lips with his own and drowning out the rest of the night with him.
Maybe if he had been less drunk at the time he would have expected the pain which assaulted him next morning. Surprisingly, France stuck around to tend to him, long fingers gently massaging the bruised area when he replaced the ice pack.
“It was my fault,” the other smiled, both with concern and pride.
“Shut your face, no it was not,” England mumbled, voice muffled into the sheets. Yes it was, but if he blamed France that meant the other was here to make certain England was not going to blame him for it later. Not here just to be here.
My, my, my, do I see a PLOT brewing? I really did want to slap France for a moment, there. Honest/loving!Artie was very sweet, and I'm adoring their willingness to switch for their anniversary now, if Francis would only be faithful the OTHER 364 days of the year~
Terribly interested in how this may develop alongside the lol!sexual injuries prompt, so you're good to go! (I'm sure the sex will come more, uh, naturally as you write it more often. But I'd still love to read some other FrUK you've written, as most of the best FrUK has little non-descriptive sex to none at all ♥
By the way, may I request the stairs, car, and WORK CUPBOARD (EFFIN LOL)/broom closet during a world conference? Also:
"Almost four out of 10 people claimed to have broken something around the house during sex with the average cost of damage touching £154."
I laughed so hard ♥
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 5/?
Ha! I was wondering what to do for 'work cupboard'! I am planning on having all ten places, injuries, and items broken from those lists included in this, no worries. But World Conference? Total yes. I will definitely write that.
I am terrible updating anything on LJ as of yet, but if you go onto FF.net you can read my stuff there. Look up either 'A Glass Of Chardonnay And A Bottle Of Rum' for drabbles or 'Recovering Francis' for an entire story. Though most of my APH stuff has them mentioned as least in the background... *coughIamstilltotallyanonymousyeahcough*))
-
Then sixth... His neck was cricked horribly that one time...
They had been trying to get somewhere else. England was busy filling his head with all sorts of things which would distract or maybe even get rid of his own problem. France's heavy breathing was not helping, however.
Fuck you Spain! You don't just start doing that there!
England was not like France, he would not be blamed of being a voyeur. Even if Spain and Romano had been– don't think about it!
It was really no use. England pulled to the side of the road. France looked rather surprised. “England, why have we–”
England cut him off by climbing into his lap and snogging the ever-loving French out of him. “Shut up and have sex with me, you git. Before I change my mind,” England added as he climbed into the back seat. There was very little chance of his mind changing soon, but France did not need to know that.
France was right behind him, shoving him down into the seats and trying to remove England's clothes as England was just trying to kiss him. Then France was trying to lick England's fingers as England was trying to pull down France's trousers. There was a lot of 'trying' going on right now and not a lot of succeeding.
England blamed the small car. He hated to think that America was right in suggesting he buy a bigger one. England did not need a bigger one... well, now he did. For more space. For this. Dammit.
They finally agreed (without having to say anything) and both removed France's trousers. England doubled over so as to reach the other's groin, tongue running up from the base of France's dick to his head. France let out a sigh and England pushed him on to his back so as to climb on top of him. While he was doing so, France's hand had slid into his pants, but missed gripping his penis and instead stroked his balls.
With a whimper, England's leg shot out behind him without his consent, striking the window. There was a slight crack, but as the only pain England was suffering from was lust he forget about it immediately.
England tried to rub his body against France, but found a knee against his stomache. “Move your leg,” he told France.
“You need a bigger–”
“Don't. Finish. That. Sentence.”
Stupid car. But truth be told, they did not have enough room to do anything more but grind against each other. England ended up on his back three more times before he came, pressed up awkwardly into the corner of the car.
Then they heard an alarm.
England simply wanted to die as the cherry top pulled up behind his car. Apparently someone driving by had not minded their own business and called in because thought someone was being assaulted in their car. France smirked and (as an idiot would) said something was. England groaned, but could not get up with extreme pain.
His neck was killing him. Not his foot, his bloody neck. Hell.
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 5/?
It was a new chair. England had not asked, but with his face shoved into the back of it he could smell the new leather. Maybe it was because of that he tried not to dig his nails into the leather as France ran his hands down England's back, pressing his hips right against the edge of the chair, moving in and out of him at a very calm (yet forceful) pace.
Whatever the case was, it drove England mad. Either the pace or the leather, he could not tell.
“Ooh... France... please...” England said despite himself, fingers finally gripping between the seat cushion and the armrests so as to give himself leverage to push back against France.
“Please what?” France responded, not changing anything. England dug his toes into the ground and the chair screeched quietly along the ground. France pushed him into it again.
His resolve to keep his hands above the chair was dwindling. France was teasing him. They both knew it, there was no point in thinking otherwise. An hand wrapped around his leg proceeded to trail up and down the inside of his thigh while ignoring the part of him that England really needed help with right now. He found himself rutting up against the chair to relieve himself of some of the pressure.
The chair scooted forward once more.
England could feel as France reached his climax, which simply proceeded to irritate him. The other practically ignored his own aching member and now was done? If they had been at England's house, he would have kicked him out. “You wank– ah!”
France's hand gripped the base of his member and England found his hands around the back of the chair, as he basically pulled himself up into it. France's hand was still there, but for some other reason England felt rather crooked.
Maybe because the chair was no longer flat on the ground, the back of it leaning up against a chest of drawers. France turned him about and England's elbow smacked against the top drawer before he could manage to grab France by the shoulder's and pull him on top of him.
That was it for the chair, which tilted over, the back catching one of the drawer handles and pulling it halfway out at an angle before the two Nations spilled to the floor. Not that either of them were paying much attention.
After a blow job that convinced England that maybe he should not be too angry with France, he noted the disheveled furniture. “That is a terrible chair,” England told France.
“Funny, Sweden is the one that recommended it.”
England was starting to think IKEA was not all it was cracked up to be. Neither was his arm that he could not currently feel from the elbow down.
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 6/?
Oh, dear, I'm so glad seeing you here. I read all of your stories in FF, really one of the best FrUk writers I've known. Love this fill, definitely waiting for more!!!
And I'm surprised France brought IKEA *headcanon is that he's a fan of ancient stuffs*
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 7/9
((Psh, he just bought it for the new leather smell. Basically, France bought a chair to have sex with England with. His real chairs, the ones he uses, are more likely antiques. That is headcanon for me too. He just does not want England wrecking his chairs. XD ))
-
The eighth reason was his hea– erm... the burns. The horrible carpet burns.
“I... you.”
That three worded sentence had nearly left his lips when France said he was bored and he was going to go bother Spain. Needless to say, England was absolutely furious at the timing. Something inside of him told him that France could not have known what he was going to say. France was thick even at the best of times when it came to important things, so why would he get it now?
So the sex was to say he was not boring. It was filled more with anger than lust. He bashed France's head against the banister and in response France dragged him down the stairs. They both had one goal in mind, but the path they wanted to take to get there was going to hurt him, there was no doubt.
“Fuck– get off!”
“Ah, but you wanted this, rosbif!”
England screamed for the sake of screaming, kicking France in the shoulder to get him off. With a swear France hit the wall. There was another crash, but as there had been plenty of those neither of them paid attention to it. England crawled up to France before he could steady himself and bit the inside of his thigh. France swore again and his legs buckled, sliding down, back still against the wall.
“You'll scream for me,” England demanded, words ghosting out in a breath. The wind was knocked out of him as France landed his forearm on England's stomache, teeth grazing England's neck. Gasping, trying to blink the darkness away from his eyes, England barely felt France push up against him, scraping him up a couple of steps.
He was vaguely aware of considering whether a wooden staircase had been more comfortable or not, but cast it aside as not important.
The game was ended as France gripped his penis and England was submitted to his mercy. It did not stop England from continuing to push up against him, trying to get France to loose some control.
He succeeded, France screaming his name, but it did not really feel like a victory.
It took a few minutes for England to realize how uncomfortable he was on the stairs. France was muttering something as well. “What?” he asked, tone mostly exhausted.
“Just glass from one of your frames,” France responded noncommittally, pulling it out of his hand. “I'm going to use your restroom.”
“Go ahead.”
While France was gone, England counted the empty hooks on the wall of his staircase. Six that he could see. Hopefully the pictures were all right, but he could not be bothered to get up and check. With a sigh, England rubbed at his back.
Ow.
“Those look nasty,” France commented, coming back down the stairs, still not redressed.
“What does?” England asked, sitting up.
“The carpet burns,” France smirked, sitting beside him, uncorking a bottle, applying some of the cream to his hand and running it down England's back. England winced. “Should I call your work and tell them you're taking tomorrow off?”
“Hell no,” England shook his head, gritting his teeth as France's smooth fingers continued to rub the lotion down his back and attempting to squeeze his buttocks. “I'll do that.”
“Right,” France responded, though he continued to pretend England was only talking about the call. England gave in, moving to his front so that France could continue to tend to his burns.
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 8/9
“Wait, Angleterre. You've been avoiding... please, there is something I need to tell you.”
“Couldn't you have done that when we first went out for break?” England asked, about to open the door and return into the World Conference room. He did not want to be seen with France right now. He was trying to make people take him seriously, which meant no arguing with anyone. He had managed it so far.
“This is important.”
“I don't want to be seen near you today,” England reiterated the sentiment. He had said it earlier.
“Then stop arguing with me and listen!” France exclaimed, exasperated. Which was when England heard the footsteps coming toward the hall. He glanced from the door to France. France probably was able to tell he had given in by the fact he did not just enter the room (more from the fact he did not want France entering the door behind him). So the southern Nation grabbed his hand and pulled him toward one of the other doors.
“Wait France! This is just a–” England shut his mouth as he found himself pushed into a shelf. France stopped, door shutting behind him.
“Whoops, closet.”
“I'm surprised you don't know where all of the broom closets are in here,” England sneered. He could not see anything, but he assumed France responded to his tone by the slight hitch in his breath.
“I only remember them if they are memorable enough,” France retorted, his breath running down England's neck. England rolled his eyes. On purpose, not with a shudder.
“If making this memorable for you will keep this mistake from happening in the future...” England grumbled, hoisting himself backward on the shelf, knocking whatever was there over. “Unless what you have to say will be that memorable?”
There was something in France's silence which made England shiver. But he did not say anything, simply pushed England back further on the shelf and kissed him. England turned his head to the side, letting his lips part. His hands trailed down France's arms, landing on his hands which were griping at England's hips.
So much for important. It's not as important as sex to him... stupid man.
England braced his feet against the door on either side of France. France unbuttoned his trousers. Were they really doing this here? Not that it was the first time, but really... England thought he had passed this stupid phase. He had offered it up so easily. What was wrong with him? Probably stress. It was easy to blame on stress.
There was a sense of urgency to this, but it was not a rush job. He ran his hands thru the hair on France's chest, for as far down as his shirt was unbuttoned. France lavished only the skin that would be under his collar with love bites. Eyes fluttering shut, dark to dark, England let one of his legs tighten around France, while his other foot still pressed heavily against the door. His head hit back against the shelf above him.
“Uh... ça va?”
“Merci,” England whimpered, whether from his head or the pressure France was applying to his shaft he did not know. He moved himself as much as he could so he would not hit his head again, pushing himself further against France.
“Oh, Angleterre...” France mewled, though England could not quite grasp why. His arms circled about France's neck as he kissed him, France desperately kissing him back. His hips bucked against him as England found himself being pulled even closer.
But the shelf did stick out that far and England was now only supported by France, who was not expecting that responsibility resting solely on him. France tumbled back, England tried to get his feet underneath him and they crashed back against the door, which did not hold their force. They fell to the ground outside the closet. Immediately England could hear voices, people coming.
Goddamn it, France! He wanted to cry, sob, run. But he didn't. He kissed France again and continued what he was doing. The two of them fully ignored the Nations who came to check what the noise was until they were done.
Then England went home. With difficulty. His entire body felt like a pretzel and his emotions felt like a roller coaster. Damn you, France. Damn...
ARRRRRGH DAMN YOU FOR POSTING WHEN I NEED TO LEAVE IN AN HOUR
Some quick comments: *Me being nit-picky, but I think a quick spelling/grammar check would be helpful :)
*I think it's because you're writing this fairly quickly, but I think some sentences could be worded differently for fluidity and smoother transitions, some words can be eliminated, and that some words should probably be changed to better fit the characters or circumstances (e.g., "France mewled" doesn't register as readily as "France whispered" in this context)
(I also think that maybe England should have responded with "Merde... ça va. Ah! M-merci--" only because Iggy speaking French is so hot he didn't end up answering France's question.)
*I feel like there was a sudden shift in these last two (7 & 8) parts--a shift in mood. While the emotional aspect was foreshadowed in part four, it immediately shifted back to humour in the next bit (LOL the caaaaar!sex was hilarious yay Spamano XD and I find myself amused that France would buy chairs just to have sex with Englandafter that. Like England himself I'm finding this fill a bit, um, bipolar? It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I kind of wish the change had been on a gradient...or, at least, was less abrupt?
*France's sudden emotional development is interesting too; I'm now incredibly interested in seeing this relationship from his perspective (although I wish there had been more hints scattered throughout). England's emotional distress is entertaining enlightening, but since I love France/Francis...
*On the up-side, for all its awkwardness, this fill has been a joy to read, and surprisingly HOT~ *panting slightly* I hope you experiment more with descriptive sex BECAUSE I KNOW EXACTLY WHO YOU ARE MS. ANONIMICE AND I LOVE YOUR WORK ♥ (and the fact that one of your pieces inspired 'An Antique Land' <333333), because I think you'd be great at it. I don't think I've ever thought about Artie cross-dressing as much as I have since I started reading 'A Glass...' XDb
DAMN I NEED TO FINISH A FEW THINGS. I'll check back in a few ♥ *interested in seeing the wrap-up*
spooning to--oh, Iggy, just be patient.
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 9/9
England stared up to him, hoping that he had made his point.
“Mon cher... you expect me to be turned off from having sex with you after you talk about all of these other times we have had sex together?”
“You weren't supposed to be paying attention to that!” England exclaimed, throwing his head back with a groan. “You were supposed to be paying attention to all of the things we broke! And all of the injuries I've gotten!”
“All right,” France conceded, though his hand was still under England's shirt, thoughtfully tapping lightly against his stomache. “Let me put it to you this way. You mentioned our anniversary.”
Damn it all. England knew he should have left that one out, despite the broken headboard and his bruised shoulder. “So?”
“'So?'” France repeated, sounding somewhat surprised. “Oh, England... So...” he kissed him. England was adamant to keep his mouth shut, despite the tongue prodding between his lips. France pulled back. “We are on the couch. What injury could you possibly get on the couch?”
True. It was just the couch. “What injury could I possibly have gotten in bed?” he retorted, trying to grasp for any reason to keep saying no even though he really just wanted to say yes.
“We are not drunk now,” France ducked down, whispering into his ear.
“That isn't the point,” England scowled. France stopped, pulling back.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Yes!” England exploded, pushing him off of him. France, surprisingly, did not argue. He just sat there as England pulled himself out from under him and folded his arms across his chest, looking at the wall.
“It's not fair that you are mad at me for something I don't know about!” France responded quietly, looking at him rather oddly. “I'm sorry that you get hurt, but you seem to have forgotten about all of the injuries moi has gotten over the years!”
Only a couple (accidental) injuries of France's came to mind. “It's not my body I'm talking about, you prat!” he exclaimed. When France did not respond right after that, England looked at the ground.
“I paid for your wall–”
“Oh, this is useless!” England stood up, though before he could walk away France caught his wrist.
“What do you want me to say?”
England wheeled about on him. “The truth!” he shouted, shutting his jaw right after that and simply staring at him. France stared back.
“Both you and I want to make love. Right here on the couch, right now.”
And as much as England wanted to punch him in the face, he could not say that was a lie. It had also been a very long time since France had called it 'making love'. “This isn't love,” he sneered.
“It isn't?” France asked, looking surprised. That was not the reaction England was expecting and he could not say anything for a moment. “Now look who's lying...” France said, tapping a finger against his own lips. “Come here and love me, England.”
If he said no he would have established himself. He would have made up for all of the other times he was weak. If he said no... Weak? Establish what? What was he thinking about?
Oh, fuck it.
England gave in and ten minutes later he heard the crash of his tea cup falling off of the table.
“France!”
“What~?”
And when England ended up with his back out, he blamed France for everything. Despite that, France stayed. France did not try and convince England otherwise. He was here to be here.
“You're such an idiot,” he said fondly. France smiled and kissed him.
This was what he had wanted in the first place, what he had. England guessed that all of his reasons were simply to find a safer way of showing it.
Still... he could afford to buy a new tea cup.
-
((There you go. All of the previous writing was simply so I could put in this last part. Of course my favourite part would be the one in which I did not actually write sex. *sigh* Anyway, hope you liked, OP!))
And -I- gave in and just put off everything to finish this. Now where's the damn OP?
While is somewhat of a hasty wrap-up, it actually worked as the ending to the mismatched parts prior ♥ I do still wish that we had more insight into France's line-of-thinking, but I'm rather pleased that France seems to have always (more-or-less known) about England's feelings, even if that understanding never showed WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO CRYPTIC, FRANCIS (or, maybe, why does Iggy have to be such a worrywart? Maybe that's self-explanatory.).
Overall, lovely fill~ I hope you do more FrUKish prompts in the future, especially if they utilize your fantastic sense of humour, Sp--uh, anon~ ♥
captcha's being psychic again: development comedown
Re: And -I- gave in and just put off everything to finish this. Now where's the damn OP?
Yeah, there was a shift. If I had known what I was doing, I would have posted the parts in a different order. But I did not know what I was doing. I would have probably put the anniversary section a bit later in, as the eighth part or something, after the angry stair sex.
And I did want to write France's POV from all of this... but I started freaking out with what I was already doing. I guess the more I do these requests on here (where I cannot correct after posting, I found myself looking back on it and going 'why the FUH was I thinking?'). I guess this is for everyone to be able to see how very messy my firstsecondthird beginning drafts are, especially in my longer stuff. Next time I do a fill I will probably just write it all out. Not get as excited. XP
If I ever took this and had the face to put it on my FF account, I would probably take your advice on the French and I would also switch some of the parts around. 1 2 3 4 6 7 8/5 5/8 9 and 10. That order would have probably been better. :D
AND I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT ANON!READER. SP- WHAT? XDDD I was so thrilled to read 'An Antique Land', amazed that anything I could have written would have inspired anyone. I need to find that fic again, since I only read it before I had an LJ account...
I saw a few other requests I may want to do (with proper planning this time, first times are always the most difficult, right?)... so you will probably read me somewhere around~
I am glad I managed to amuse! Thank you for the feedback!
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 9/9
I like this. Despite the awkwardness the anon above has kindly pointed out, it's so cute and sweet. Will definitely read more of your fics on FF (and the fic of the anon above too). Eagerly await more of your stories for the kinkmeme, author anon :D!
I'm not sure what I had in mind when I posted the request, although what I expected to see was a hazy idea about snarky crack because that is an easy route to take when writing FrUK comedy.
And while snarky crack is a fine thing, I am delighted by the way you did this. That unspoken something more that eventually surfaced gave this story a wonderful touch of emotion while keeping to the, well, spirit of the original article. There is nothing exaggerated about this story, and I think that just that might be what made it such a lovely read. There are some issues with your prose that could profit from a work-over, but the bare elements of the story - the characterisation and the subtle drama and the dumb sex accidents - those were all beautifully conveyed here. What I am trying and probably failing to say is that you wrote so much more than I had expected from that silly little prompt, and I think this is among my favourite FrUK fills in the recent parts (:
Thank you all again for the feedback! I definitely filled in the crevasses and rearranged the scenes so it would make more sense. So it is on my FF account now, hopefully much better than what is here. It is still flaky, but as we have all agreed, for a first attempt it could have been much worse. XD
And I am glad I exceeded your expectations, OP. Thank you for giving me such material to work with. My favourite type of writing for APH is when I have such wonderful real facts to work with.
Especially humour. :D
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 9/9
Arrgh finally catching up on my "to read list" from months ago... so here I am commenting now of all times.
Pfft oh you two. Despite the bodily harm England keeps going back for more. They hurt each other while trying to love each other, and all England ever wanted was to know why it hurt more than just his body.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
"thousands nursing secret sex injuries"
(Anonymous) 2010-05-10 03:30 pm (UTC)(link)With FrUK, preferably.
Re: "thousands nursing secret sex injuries"
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 12:38 am (UTC)(link)The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 1/?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 02:39 am (UTC)(link)-
The first reason was dislocated fingers.
The wine glass had been knocked over rather quickly. England was about to tell France 'that is what you get for leaving it on the ground' but his mouth was rather occupied. With France's tongue. France was moaning, hands trying to unbutton England's shirt and England trying to stop him at the same time. Half of his mind reminded him where he was.
Certainly his trousers and pants had been discarded some time ago, but... oh, damn.
France had moved down and was sucking very painfully on the skin up the inside of his thigh. Grabbing France's hair, he tried to reposition his head when he lost his balance. Both of them tumbled into the wildflower patch. His hands instinctively were thrown forward to protect himself as he landed on the top of his palms.
“Nice going~” France laughed. With a groan, England thrust downward and filled the other Nation's mouth with his dick. Apparently France was not too upset as he kept his mouth around the head and let his tongue lick up and down the shaft, just as he had to know England liked it.
It was not until he had come screaming that he was aware of how his fingers were not working. France laughed at him again and England kicked him right in the place he had been pleasuring him.
The second reason was his sprained ankle.
“Fuck,” the word hissed out of him as he tried to rearrange his legs around France. This was not what he had intended to do on the business trip, but what did he expect from staying in the same hotel as the French Nation?
“That's what I'm trying to do,” France gasped, hands gripping England's hips hard enough that England assumed there would be bruises in the morning, wincing as England's knee nearly struck his eye. England was trying very hard not to crawl out of his skin, leaning over and biting France's neck. “Dieu!”
“He won't... help you now,” England gasped, France forcing him down on his member without much care for England's comfort. Then again, if he cared for England's comfort he would not have ambushed him in the damned bathroom! Somehow England found his left knee over France's shoulder as he gripped at the stall walls. Please let no one come in here, please... ah, fuck it.
“Still flexible, are we?” France pulled away from his collarbone long enough to smirk at him. England pulled up and let gravity take him down, left foot pressing hard against the wall behind France's head.
No one could say he did not know how to shut France up. Which did not work very well, because the noise that escaped France came out at the same time someone entered the bathroom. Both of them stopped, trying to keep their panting down, France's feet now up on the stall door.
“Really now?” Romano's voice bounced off the walls, the door shutting soon afterward. With that exit call they returned to their current activity.
It was not until they were doing a very bare clean up job and redressing that England fell forward on a weak ankle and pushed over the vase on the counter.
Why did these bathrooms even have vases and pictures? Who was looking?
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 2/?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 04:16 am (UTC)(link)“What are you doing in here?” England demanded. He was busy trying to get all of the soy sauce off of him from a very disastrous encounter with Japan and China wherein Korea showed up. All he had wanted was to be home, wash off, and go to bed. None of that included France in the equation.
“So sorry,” France said, for once not sounding as if he was teasing him. “I heard you were covered in juice and I had to see... but I am too late!”
“Soy sauce!” England clarified with a scowl as France stepped in, not bothering to shuck off his clothes. “I never said you could come in! My house! You aren't allowed in my house, let alone–” His words ended with a hiss of breath as France's lips encircled a nipple.
England slipped, only saved from bashing his head in against the wall by France's arm catching his back and his hand catching the shower shelf at an odd angle. “Careful,” France smirked, lapping water off of his chest. It was rather unfair, the rate at which England found himself aroused. Thankfully the water drowned out his whimper. France's hand squeezed one of his buttocks, pushing him up slightly so as to press the both of them into the wall.
“I'm tired, so make this quick,” England grumbled into his ear, resting his chin on France's shoulder as he went by feel to try and remove France's wet belt. France laughed quietly.
“Very well.”
“And none of your– nngh!” England moaned as France rubbed his thumb on his tip. “Tricks! Tricks, you frog! None of them!”
“But you like my tricks...” France responded as England finally removed the obstacles and pulled France's pants down, cupping the bulge there and nearly finding himself dropped as a result.
“Watch it!”
“Oh, but I am!”
Somehow England found France thrusting into him, back and shoulders pressed flat against the wall, more wet than he really wanted to be right now. There was nothing to grab on to except for France, so he kept one hand on his own member and the other gripping at that hair which was still bound in a ponytail.
“Ouch!” Thrust.
“Stop.” Very hard thrust. “Com–plaining!” England saw stars.
Suddenly England's head did bash against the wall, but only because France's shoulder had suddenly struck his jaw. England smelt plaster, but kept rocking his hips as he felt the both of them lower to the floor of the shower. France twisted a nipple between his fingers and England choked as he released. France continued his rhythm, not finished yet.
Stabilizing his own breathing, England looked up to see a hole in his wall. “How dare you–” he started, but France covered his mouth with a hand and continued to make him want to start another round.
By the time England had beat France out of his house, pulled out some blackmail to make certain he would pay for the wall, and finally returned to turn off the water he was exhausted. Drying off, England did not even bother to get into his pajamas before collapsing in bed.
He had forgotten to turn off his alarm and when he reached to slap the snooze button, his wrist screamed bloody murder at him.
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 3/?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 04:30 am (UTC)(link)An argument over who was going to cook breakfast ended up with a very irate England sitting at the kitchen table as France (amused as ever, that bastard) cooked some horrid French meal. France's winning line had been “it is my house”. England could not argue with that. He had tried to, he had tried to say “I could take it from you and it won't be anymore” but France was not amused.
England was going to be amused somehow. And he was going to make up for the fact that he was having to eat French food. Sure, he could leave and go home to eat, but he was hungry now. He could eat here at France's or eat and one of France's restaurants. Making such a big deal out of it to eat at one of the restaurants and have to pay for it would make France laugh even more.
Here goes nothing.
He stood up, sitting on the table as he undid his shirt buttons half way down his chest. “France...”
England had France's attention in an instant (it was the tone) but France seemed unwilling to leave the stove. “Oh no, England. I know what you are doing.”
So England smirked. “All right then. You know what I am doing.” It was because France said that England was determined that France would not know what he was doing. So maybe instead of seducing him he was simply jerk off in front of him. Then France would be hot and bothered and lonely all at the same time.
France swallowed, those eyes unable to leave England's hands as he reached down into his trousers, his facial expressions giving an obvious display as to what France was missing out on. “C'est pas juste!” [[That's not fair!]]
“You... didn't want... my breakfast...” England teased, slouching further on the table as he said so, accentuating his moan more. Just to be an ass. France could call him crude later, he was suffering for it now.
And England had won. He heard France practically dive toward him, grabbing him by the legs and pulling him to the edge of the table, tongue running down his chest. England purred, a leg wrapping around France's thighs as he pushed himself up against him. England was hungry all right, but what he wanted for his meal had changed considerably in the past few minutes. The same could be said for France as his mouth was now between England's legs and doing miracles, for all England was concerned.
Okay, it had been worth it. Right up to the point when they smelled burning.
“You left it on the stove?” England spat out, disbelieving it as France back away from him, tripping over the chair and both of them crashing to the ground. “Shit! France?”
“F-fine!” France muttered thru clenched teeth, rubbing at the back of his head, getting to his feet once more and turning off the heat. Well, the heat on the stove. Chest heaving, England lay back on the table, stroking himself once more. Well, he's not finishing it...
“Ah ha!” France came back over, taking his wrists and pinning them over his head. England groaned. He was so close and France had to just– “You little tease.”
“I do try,” England smirked, licking at his lips. France was leaning into his leg and the back of his knee was digging into the side of the table. He shifted his leg so to get more comfortable. “Going to remind me that you're good at this, or can I go and tell everyone you were so unsatisfying that– mgh!”
France's tongue was practically playing hockey with his tonsils. England could barely moan.
Afterward England talked himself out of paying for the chair which now had a crack running up the wood of one of the legs. No, he was too busy trying to talk France into paying for another leg. Most particularly his, because his knee felt as if it were bent out of shape.
-
((Argh, I will get back to writing more of this later. Need sleep right now. D: ))
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT OMIGOD
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 06:34 am (UTC)(link)I do spot some wonkiness in sentence structure/syntax (making some scenes hard to picture), but you sure do make up for it in humour ♥ You have no idea how much love I have for
hilariousfun, awkward sex, and France/England are ze MASTERS of both hot, smutty, sweet romance and...eccentric, eclectic pseudo-sex. I was literally chewing on my bottom lip to keep from bursting out laughing (past midnight) ♥Plus, seductive/mischievous!Artie is impossible to NOT LOVE ♥ And I can't help but giggle at the fact that
all these bizarre 'studies'/polls come from the UKEngland's the only one getting injured from his...uh, sexual encounters with France. I wonder if mon cher Francis is doing itintentionallyunconsciously? (As I can't imagine that he would be so terrible at sex as to bash England's head through his bathroom wall WHILE they're screwing FFFFFF)Also, I love how calm England is about random sex with France in random places, random Romano knowing exactly what was going on, and France being
Frenchrandomly horny at the most inconvenient moments. Oh, and how this fill started with "The first reason was dislocated fingers." I read that as "was dislodged fingers" and went "Yeah, Artie, I can see why that would be a problem. *lips twitching*"Have a lovely rest--I hope to see more of this fill tomorrow~
Have you written other FrUK?HAHAHAHAHA Captcha loves your fill too: minimum bunts XDDDDD
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 4/?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 06:48 pm (UTC)(link)Yes I have written other FrUK, but as I said without writing the sex directly. FrUK is my OTP. XDErm... not so funny part, but I promise to have more humor in the rest of the
storyrambling!))-
Then there was his bruised shoulder. Hell, that one had even been planned!
They were not even being rough this time.
England lay on top of France, kissing him gently as he felt France's hands stroking his hair and down his neck. His partner was saying something, but it was in French and England was not bothering to try and translate it (a part of his mind worried that the very calm and beautiful sounding words might turn into something he would be insulted by).
“God, you're beautiful,” England breathed out, almost wanting to cling to France rather than have sex with him. France smiled as he spoke once more. England simply took the pillow out from under France's head and dropped it off the side of the bed to get it out of the way.
He had the feeling he might be made to regret what he said tonight, but that was in the future and England was simply being honest now.
Running his fingers thru France's hair he brought his mouth down to France's cheek, kissing from there down his jaw, then back to his ear. “And right now you're mine. Mine... all right?”
He felt France's hand caress his cheek and England leaned into it. “Always.”
That was a big fucking lie and England almost burst into tears because of it. Instead, he began to suck on the skin right under France's earlobe as he blindly reached for the lube.
On this day of all days they were equals and they accepted it. England pushed into the blinding tight heat that was France knowing that as soon as they had recovered they would be swapping positions. Happy Anniversary, right dear?
Unfortunately, during the respite in their escapades they both drank a little too much and England was subjected to some of the harshest sex they had ever had without drawing blood. Not that he was complaining, even as they broke the bed frame. Correction: England had broken it with his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” France asked him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.
“Fine,” England responded, catching France's lips with his own and drowning out the rest of the night with him.
Maybe if he had been less drunk at the time he would have expected the pain which assaulted him next morning. Surprisingly, France stuck around to tend to him, long fingers gently massaging the bruised area when he replaced the ice pack.
“It was my fault,” the other smiled, both with concern and pride.
“Shut your face, no it was not,” England mumbled, voice muffled into the sheets. Yes it was, but if he blamed France that meant the other was here to make certain England was not going to blame him for it later. Not here just to be here.
Dammit.
Quick comment before I have to run--
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 07:13 pm (UTC)(link)I really did want to slap France for a moment, there.Honest/loving!Artie was very sweet, and I'm adoring their willingness to switch for their anniversarynow, if Francis would only be faithful the OTHER 364 days of the year~Terribly interested in how this may develop alongside the lol!sexual injuries prompt, so you're good to go! (I'm sure the sex will come more, uh, naturally as you write it more often. But I'd still love to read some other FrUK you've written, as most of the best FrUK has little
non-descriptivesex to none at all ♥By the way, may I request the stairs, car, and WORK CUPBOARD (EFFIN LOL)/broom closet during a world conference? Also:
"Almost four out of 10 people claimed to have broken something around the house during sex with the average cost of damage touching £154."
I laughed so hard ♥
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 5/?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)Ha! I was wondering what to do for 'work cupboard'! I am planning on having all ten places, injuries, and items broken from those lists included in this, no worries. But World Conference? Total yes. I will definitely write that.
I am terrible updating anything on LJ as of yet, but if you go onto FF.net you can read my stuff there. Look up either
'A Glass Of Chardonnay And A Bottle Of Rum'for drabbles or'Recovering Francis'for an entire story. Though most of my APH stuff has them mentioned as least in the background...*coughIamstilltotallyanonymousyeahcough*))-
Then sixth... His neck was cricked horribly that one time...
They had been trying to get somewhere else. England was busy filling his head with all sorts of things which would distract or maybe even get rid of his own problem. France's heavy breathing was not helping, however.
Fuck you Spain! You don't just start doing that there!
England was not like France, he would not be blamed of being a voyeur. Even if Spain and Romano had been– don't think about it!
It was really no use. England pulled to the side of the road. France looked rather surprised. “England, why have we–”
England cut him off by climbing into his lap and snogging the ever-loving French out of him. “Shut up and have sex with me, you git. Before I change my mind,” England added as he climbed into the back seat. There was very little chance of his mind changing soon, but France did not need to know that.
France was right behind him, shoving him down into the seats and trying to remove England's clothes as England was just trying to kiss him. Then France was trying to lick England's fingers as England was trying to pull down France's trousers. There was a lot of 'trying' going on right now and not a lot of succeeding.
England blamed the small car. He hated to think that America was right in suggesting he buy a bigger one. England did not need a bigger one... well, now he did. For more space. For this. Dammit.
They finally agreed (without having to say anything) and both removed France's trousers. England doubled over so as to reach the other's groin, tongue running up from the base of France's dick to his head. France let out a sigh and England pushed him on to his back so as to climb on top of him. While he was doing so, France's hand had slid into his pants, but missed gripping his penis and instead stroked his balls.
With a whimper, England's leg shot out behind him without his consent, striking the window. There was a slight crack, but as the only pain England was suffering from was lust he forget about it immediately.
England tried to rub his body against France, but found a knee against his stomache. “Move your leg,” he told France.
“You need a bigger–”
“Don't. Finish. That. Sentence.”
Stupid car. But truth be told, they did not have enough room to do anything more but grind against each other. England ended up on his back three more times before he came, pressed up awkwardly into the corner of the car.
Then they heard an alarm.
England simply wanted to die as the cherry top pulled up behind his car. Apparently someone driving by had not minded their own business and called in because thought someone was being assaulted in their car. France smirked and (as an idiot would) said something was. England groaned, but could not get up with extreme pain.
His neck was killing him. Not his foot, his bloody neck. Hell.
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 5/?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-18 05:00 pm (UTC)(link)'A Glass Of Chardonnay And A Bottle Of Rum'asdfghjk. It's you!
You, my dear stilltotallyanon, are the sole reason I've become the hopeless FrUK fangirl that I am. No wonder I was loving this fill.
Here, have my worship *hands over* I've raised it well.
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 6/?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-16 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)It was a new chair. England had not asked, but with his face shoved into the back of it he could smell the new leather. Maybe it was because of that he tried not to dig his nails into the leather as France ran his hands down England's back, pressing his hips right against the edge of the chair, moving in and out of him at a very calm (yet forceful) pace.
Whatever the case was, it drove England mad. Either the pace or the leather, he could not tell.
“Ooh... France... please...” England said despite himself, fingers finally gripping between the seat cushion and the armrests so as to give himself leverage to push back against France.
“Please what?” France responded, not changing anything. England dug his toes into the ground and the chair screeched quietly along the ground. France pushed him into it again.
His resolve to keep his hands above the chair was dwindling. France was teasing him. They both knew it, there was no point in thinking otherwise. An hand wrapped around his leg proceeded to trail up and down the inside of his thigh while ignoring the part of him that England really needed help with right now. He found himself rutting up against the chair to relieve himself of some of the pressure.
The chair scooted forward once more.
England could feel as France reached his climax, which simply proceeded to irritate him. The other practically ignored his own aching member and now was done? If they had been at England's house, he would have kicked him out. “You wank– ah!”
France's hand gripped the base of his member and England found his hands around the back of the chair, as he basically pulled himself up into it. France's hand was still there, but for some other reason England felt rather crooked.
Maybe because the chair was no longer flat on the ground, the back of it leaning up against a chest of drawers. France turned him about and England's elbow smacked against the top drawer before he could manage to grab France by the shoulder's and pull him on top of him.
That was it for the chair, which tilted over, the back catching one of the drawer handles and pulling it halfway out at an angle before the two Nations spilled to the floor. Not that either of them were paying much attention.
After a blow job that convinced England that maybe he should not be too angry with France, he noted the disheveled furniture. “That is a terrible chair,” England told France.
“Funny, Sweden is the one that recommended it.”
England was starting to think IKEA was not all it was cracked up to be. Neither was his arm that he could not currently feel from the elbow down.
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 6/?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-17 03:05 am (UTC)(link)And I'm surprised France brought IKEA *headcanon is that he's a fan of ancient stuffs*
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 7/9
(Anonymous) 2010-05-17 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)-
The eighth reason was his hea– erm... the burns. The horrible carpet burns.
“I... you.”
That three worded sentence had nearly left his lips when France said he was bored and he was going to go bother Spain. Needless to say, England was absolutely furious at the timing. Something inside of him told him that France could not have known what he was going to say. France was thick even at the best of times when it came to important things, so why would he get it now?
So the sex was to say he was not boring. It was filled more with anger than lust. He bashed France's head against the banister and in response France dragged him down the stairs. They both had one goal in mind, but the path they wanted to take to get there was going to hurt him, there was no doubt.
“Fuck– get off!”
“Ah, but you wanted this, rosbif!”
England screamed for the sake of screaming, kicking France in the shoulder to get him off. With a swear France hit the wall. There was another crash, but as there had been plenty of those neither of them paid attention to it. England crawled up to France before he could steady himself and bit the inside of his thigh. France swore again and his legs buckled, sliding down, back still against the wall.
“You'll scream for me,” England demanded, words ghosting out in a breath. The wind was knocked out of him as France landed his forearm on England's stomache, teeth grazing England's neck. Gasping, trying to blink the darkness away from his eyes, England barely felt France push up against him, scraping him up a couple of steps.
He was vaguely aware of considering whether a wooden staircase had been more comfortable or not, but cast it aside as not important.
The game was ended as France gripped his penis and England was submitted to his mercy. It did not stop England from continuing to push up against him, trying to get France to loose some control.
He succeeded, France screaming his name, but it did not really feel like a victory.
It took a few minutes for England to realize how uncomfortable he was on the stairs. France was muttering something as well. “What?” he asked, tone mostly exhausted.
“Just glass from one of your frames,” France responded noncommittally, pulling it out of his hand. “I'm going to use your restroom.”
“Go ahead.”
While France was gone, England counted the empty hooks on the wall of his staircase. Six that he could see. Hopefully the pictures were all right, but he could not be bothered to get up and check. With a sigh, England rubbed at his back.
Ow.
“Those look nasty,” France commented, coming back down the stairs, still not redressed.
“What does?” England asked, sitting up.
“The carpet burns,” France smirked, sitting beside him, uncorking a bottle, applying some of the cream to his hand and running it down England's back. England winced. “Should I call your work and tell them you're taking tomorrow off?”
“Hell no,” England shook his head, gritting his teeth as France's smooth fingers continued to rub the lotion down his back and attempting to squeeze his buttocks. “I'll do that.”
“Right,” France responded, though he continued to pretend England was only talking about the call. England gave in, moving to his front so that France could continue to tend to his burns.
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 8/9
(Anonymous) 2010-05-17 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)“Wait, Angleterre. You've been avoiding... please, there is something I need to tell you.”
“Couldn't you have done that when we first went out for break?” England asked, about to open the door and return into the World Conference room. He did not want to be seen with France right now. He was trying to make people take him seriously, which meant no arguing with anyone. He had managed it so far.
“This is important.”
“I don't want to be seen near you today,” England reiterated the sentiment. He had said it earlier.
“Then stop arguing with me and listen!” France exclaimed, exasperated. Which was when England heard the footsteps coming toward the hall. He glanced from the door to France. France probably was able to tell he had given in by the fact he did not just enter the room (more from the fact he did not want France entering the door behind him). So the southern Nation grabbed his hand and pulled him toward one of the other doors.
“Wait France! This is just a–” England shut his mouth as he found himself pushed into a shelf. France stopped, door shutting behind him.
“Whoops, closet.”
“I'm surprised you don't know where all of the broom closets are in here,” England sneered. He could not see anything, but he assumed France responded to his tone by the slight hitch in his breath.
“I only remember them if they are memorable enough,” France retorted, his breath running down England's neck. England rolled his eyes. On purpose, not with a shudder.
“If making this memorable for you will keep this mistake from happening in the future...” England grumbled, hoisting himself backward on the shelf, knocking whatever was there over. “Unless what you have to say will be that memorable?”
There was something in France's silence which made England shiver.
But he did not say anything, simply pushed England back further on the shelf and kissed him. England turned his head to the side, letting his lips part. His hands trailed down France's arms, landing on his hands which were griping at England's hips.
So much for important. It's not as important as sex to him... stupid man.
England braced his feet against the door on either side of France. France unbuttoned his trousers. Were they really doing this here? Not that it was the first time, but really... England thought he had passed this stupid phase. He had offered it up so easily. What was wrong with him? Probably stress. It was easy to blame on stress.
There was a sense of urgency to this, but it was not a rush job. He ran his hands thru the hair on France's chest, for as far down as his shirt was unbuttoned. France lavished only the skin that would be under his collar with love bites. Eyes fluttering shut, dark to dark, England let one of his legs tighten around France, while his other foot still pressed heavily against the door. His head hit back against the shelf above him.
“Uh... ça va?”
“Merci,” England whimpered, whether from his head or the pressure France was applying to his shaft he did not know. He moved himself as much as he could so he would not hit his head again, pushing himself further against France.
“Oh, Angleterre...” France mewled, though England could not quite grasp why. His arms circled about France's neck as he kissed him, France desperately kissing him back. His hips bucked against him as England found himself being pulled even closer.
But the shelf did stick out that far and England was now only supported by France, who was not expecting that responsibility resting solely on him. France tumbled back, England tried to get his feet underneath him and they crashed back against the door, which did not hold their force. They fell to the ground outside the closet. Immediately England could hear voices, people coming.
Goddamn it, France! He wanted to cry, sob, run. But he didn't. He kissed France again and continued what he was doing. The two of them fully ignored the Nations who came to check what the noise was until they were done.
Then England went home. With difficulty. His entire body felt like a pretzel and his emotions felt like a roller coaster. Damn you, France. Damn...
ARRRRRGH DAMN YOU FOR POSTING WHEN I NEED TO LEAVE IN AN HOUR
(Anonymous) 2010-05-17 08:42 pm (UTC)(link)Was the "eighth reason" his "heart"?Oh, Arthur.Some quick comments:
*Me being nit-picky, but I think a quick spelling/grammar check would be helpful :)
*I think it's because you're writing this fairly quickly, but I think some sentences could be worded differently for fluidity and smoother transitions, some words can be eliminated, and that some words should probably be changed to better fit the characters or circumstances (e.g., "France mewled" doesn't register as readily as "France whispered" in this context)
(I also think that maybe England should have responded with "Merde... ça va. Ah! M-merci--" only because
Iggy speaking French is so hothe didn't end up answering France's question.)*I feel like there was a sudden shift in these last two (7 & 8) parts--a shift in mood. While the emotional aspect was foreshadowed in part four, it immediately shifted back to humour in the next bit (LOL the caaaaar!sex was hilarious
yay Spamano XDand I find myself amused that France would buy chairs just to have sexwith Englandafter that.Like England himselfI'm finding this fill a bit, um, bipolar? It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I kind of wish the change had been on a gradient...or, at least, was less abrupt?*France's sudden emotional development is interesting too; I'm now incredibly interested in seeing this relationship from his perspective (although I wish there had been more hints scattered throughout). England's emotional distress is
entertainingenlightening, but since I love France/Francis...*On the up-side, for all its awkwardness, this fill has been a joy to read, and surprisingly HOT~ *panting slightly* I hope you experiment more with descriptive sex
BECAUSE I KNOW EXACTLY WHO YOU ARE MS. ANONIMICE AND I LOVE YOUR WORK ♥ (and the fact that one of your pieces inspired 'An Antique Land' <333333), because I think you'd be great at it.I don't think I've ever thought about Artie cross-dressing as much as I have since I started reading 'A Glass...' XDbDAMN I NEED TO FINISH A FEW THINGS. I'll check back in a few ♥ *interested in seeing the wrap-up*
spooning to--oh, Iggy, just be patient.
The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 9/9
(Anonymous) 2010-05-17 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)France blinked down at him.
England stared up to him, hoping that he had made his point.
“Mon cher... you expect me to be turned off from having sex with you after you talk about all of these other times we have had sex together?”
“You weren't supposed to be paying attention to that!” England exclaimed, throwing his head back with a groan. “You were supposed to be paying attention to all of the things we broke! And all of the injuries I've gotten!”
“All right,” France conceded, though his hand was still under England's shirt, thoughtfully tapping lightly against his stomache. “Let me put it to you this way. You mentioned our anniversary.”
Damn it all. England knew he should have left that one out, despite the broken headboard and his bruised shoulder. “So?”
“'So?'” France repeated, sounding somewhat surprised. “Oh, England... So...” he kissed him. England was adamant to keep his mouth shut, despite the tongue prodding between his lips. France pulled back. “We are on the couch. What injury could you possibly get on the couch?”
True. It was just the couch. “What injury could I possibly have gotten in bed?” he retorted, trying to grasp for any reason to keep saying no even though he really just wanted to say yes.
“We are not drunk now,” France ducked down, whispering into his ear.
“That isn't the point,” England scowled. France stopped, pulling back.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Yes!” England exploded, pushing him off of him. France, surprisingly, did not argue. He just sat there as England pulled himself out from under him and folded his arms across his chest, looking at the wall.
“It's not fair that you are mad at me for something I don't know about!” France responded quietly, looking at him rather oddly. “I'm sorry that you get hurt, but you seem to have forgotten about all of the injuries moi has gotten over the years!”
Only a couple (accidental) injuries of France's came to mind. “It's not my body I'm talking about, you prat!” he exclaimed. When France did not respond right after that, England looked at the ground.
“I paid for your wall–”
“Oh, this is useless!” England stood up, though before he could walk away France caught his wrist.
“What do you want me to say?”
England wheeled about on him. “The truth!” he shouted, shutting his jaw right after that and simply staring at him. France stared back.
“Both you and I want to make love. Right here on the couch, right now.”
And as much as England wanted to punch him in the face, he could not say that was a lie. It had also been a very long time since France had called it 'making love'. “This isn't love,” he sneered.
“It isn't?” France asked, looking surprised. That was not the reaction England was expecting and he could not say anything for a moment. “Now look who's lying...” France said, tapping a finger against his own lips. “Come here and love me, England.”
If he said no he would have established himself. He would have made up for all of the other times he was weak. If he said no... Weak? Establish what? What was he thinking about?
Oh, fuck it.
England gave in and ten minutes later he heard the crash of his tea cup falling off of the table.
“France!”
“What~?”
And when England ended up with his back out, he blamed France for everything. Despite that, France stayed. France did not try and convince England otherwise. He was here to be here.
“You're such an idiot,” he said fondly. France smiled and kissed him.
This was what he had wanted in the first place, what he had. England guessed that all of his reasons were simply to find a safer way of showing it.
Still... he could afford to buy a new tea cup.
-
((There you go. All of the previous writing was simply so I could put in this last part. Of course my favourite part would be the one in which I did not actually write sex. *sigh* Anyway, hope you liked, OP!))
And -I- gave in and just put off everything to finish this. Now where's the damn OP?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-17 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO CRYPTIC, FRANCIS (or, maybe, why does Iggy have to be such a worrywart? Maybe that's self-explanatory.).Overall, lovely fill~ I hope you do more FrUKish prompts in the future, especially if they utilize your fantastic sense of humour, Sp--uh, anon~ ♥
captcha's being psychic again: development comedown
Re: And -I- gave in and just put off everything to finish this. Now where's the damn OP?
(Anonymous) 2010-05-18 03:22 am (UTC)(link)And I did want to write France's POV from all of this... but I started freaking out with what I was already doing. I guess the more I do these requests on here (where I cannot correct after posting, I found myself looking back on it and going 'why the
FUHwas I thinking?'). I guess this is for everyone to be able to see how very messy myfirstsecondthirdbeginning drafts are, especially in my longer stuff. Next time I do a fill I will probably just write it all out. Not get as excited. XPIf I ever took this and had the face to put it on my FF account, I would probably take your advice on the French and I would also switch some of the parts around. 1 2 3 4 6 7 8/5 5/8 9 and 10. That order would have probably been better. :D
AND I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT ANON!READER. SP- WHAT? XDDD
I was so thrilled to read 'An Antique Land', amazed that anything I could have written would have inspired anyone. I need to find that fic again, since I only read it before I had an LJ account...I saw a few other requests I may want to do (with proper planning this time, first times are always the most difficult, right?)... so you will probably read me somewhere around~
I am glad I managed to amuse! Thank you for the feedback!
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 9/9
(Anonymous) 2010-05-18 07:08 am (UTC)(link)OP
(Anonymous) 2010-05-18 11:37 pm (UTC)(link)And while snarky crack is a fine thing, I am delighted by the way you did this. That unspoken something more that eventually surfaced gave this story a wonderful touch of emotion while keeping to the, well, spirit of the original article. There is nothing exaggerated about this story, and I think that just that might be what made it such a lovely read. There are some issues with your prose that could profit from a work-over, but the bare elements of the story - the characterisation and the subtle drama and the dumb sex accidents - those were all beautifully conveyed here. What I am trying and probably failing to say is that you wrote so much more than I had expected from that silly little prompt, and I think this is among my favourite FrUK fills in the recent parts (:
anon!Author here
(Anonymous) 2010-05-19 03:02 am (UTC)(link)And I am glad I exceeded your expectations, OP. Thank you for giving me such material to work with. My favourite type of writing for APH is when I have such wonderful real facts to work with.
Especially humour. :D
Re: The Reason Why England Should Really Just Say No 9/9
(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)Pfft oh you two. Despite the bodily harm England keeps going back for more. They hurt each other while trying to love each other, and all England ever wanted was to know why it hurt more than just his body.
I enjoyed reading very much. <3