After considering a variety of venues for their next date, France decided that Russia would probably be more comfortable on his own home turf.
However, when he arrived at the door, he was greeted by the Russia everyone else knew and feared. He wasn't scared though, part of him found the other nation's personality endearing, the other part of him found it arousing (but then he found 90% of things arousing).
“You really shouldn't have come here,” Russia stated bluntly, towering over France from the doorway, a glum expression on his face.
France smiled and whipped out a bunch of roses from behind him back, along with a vintage bottle of wine. Even if he felt differently about Russia, he wouldn't change his techniques. They were proven to be effective. Maybe they hadn't got him very far already but now he was armed with precious information that would help him adjust said techniques to the situation.
He leaned over, attempting to kiss Russia on the lips only to have the larger man turn his face just enough for his lips to land on his cold cheek.
“You really should not have come here...” Russia repeated, nervously looking around as he closed the door after France invited himself in.
“Nonsense. I have a desire to see my beloved and I have something I need to say to you,” France said, placing the flowers on the sideboard as he looked around the entrance hall. If he had been here before, he couldn't remember it. “Something that could not wait.”
Russia shuffled past France, beckoning for him to follow. The house was dusty; cold. If he had have known he was having guests, he would have asked someone to clean but people so very rarely visited him that he stopped asking for the house to be cleaned every day; stopped asking for every fire in every room to be lit.
“What is it you wanted to say? I hate to be rude with you but I have work to be doing. We have an arranged date tomorrow,” he said with a slight smile as he brought that up, his heart beating slightly faster as he thought about dinner at one of Frances many restaurants. So warm; so intimate.
France led Russia over to the fire. “Sit down on the rug. It will set the scene for this.”
“If you're planning on trying to sleep with me on a rug in my own home, you can just stop right now,” Russia mumbled, taking a seat on the floor, keeping at least a metre away from the man he was dating.
“Now, would I really be so tacky?” He replied, gracefully dropping down onto the rug, narrowly avoiding Russia's lap, although he did place one leg over the other man's thighs and neither of them made any effort to remove it.
Russia nodded, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face. “I wouldn't put it past you.”
“Let us be serious for a moment,” France began, shifting closer, both his legs now over Russia's lap. “We have been seeing each other for quite some time, no? Well, I desire-”
“You can stop your sentence right there,” Russia interrupted, pushing France's legs off him. “If you're going to say something lewd, you can just leave.” He attempted to scramble to his feet, blushing heavily as the thought of him and France being intimate crept into his mind, blushing even further as France grabbed his coattail and yanked him back down again.
He found himself in France's lap, and although he knew that he weighed a lot, he made no immediate attempt to move. He was paralysed with embarrassment and the way the other man was grinning down at him only darkened his cheeks further.
“Unless you think love is lewd, then what I have to say shouldn't be a problem.” France slid a rose out from his sleeve and smiled, running the flower down Russia's face tenderly before he carried on speaking. “I have come to realise that my feelings for you are greater than I had previously thought. However, before I make such a verbal commitment, I desire to know how you feel about me.”
Russia regarded France for a moment before he turned his face away, still blushing furiously. His heart was racing; his mind working overtime. He felt something for France, something very strong but he couldn't voice his feelings. It wasn't in his nature to do such a thing.
Re: Vodka scented roses~ 3/?
After considering a variety of venues for their next date, France decided that Russia would probably be more comfortable on his own home turf.
However, when he arrived at the door, he was greeted by the Russia everyone else knew and feared. He wasn't scared though, part of him found the other nation's personality endearing, the other part of him found it arousing (but then he found 90% of things arousing).
“You really shouldn't have come here,” Russia stated bluntly, towering over France from the doorway, a glum expression on his face.
France smiled and whipped out a bunch of roses from behind him back, along with a vintage bottle of wine. Even if he felt differently about Russia, he wouldn't change his techniques. They were proven to be effective. Maybe they hadn't got him very far already but now he was armed with precious information that would help him adjust said techniques to the situation.
He leaned over, attempting to kiss Russia on the lips only to have the larger man turn his face just enough for his lips to land on his cold cheek.
“You really should not have come here...” Russia repeated, nervously looking around as he closed the door after France invited himself in.
“Nonsense. I have a desire to see my beloved and I have something I need to say to you,” France said, placing the flowers on the sideboard as he looked around the entrance hall. If he had been here before, he couldn't remember it. “Something that could not wait.”
Russia shuffled past France, beckoning for him to follow. The house was dusty; cold. If he had have known he was having guests, he would have asked someone to clean but people so very rarely visited him that he stopped asking for the house to be cleaned every day; stopped asking for every fire in every room to be lit.
“What is it you wanted to say? I hate to be rude with you but I have work to be doing. We have an arranged date tomorrow,” he said with a slight smile as he brought that up, his heart beating slightly faster as he thought about dinner at one of Frances many restaurants. So warm; so intimate.
France led Russia over to the fire. “Sit down on the rug. It will set the scene for this.”
“If you're planning on trying to sleep with me on a rug in my own home, you can just stop right now,” Russia mumbled, taking a seat on the floor, keeping at least a metre away from the man he was dating.
“Now, would I really be so tacky?” He replied, gracefully dropping down onto the rug, narrowly avoiding Russia's lap, although he did place one leg over the other man's thighs and neither of them made any effort to remove it.
Russia nodded, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face. “I wouldn't put it past you.”
“Let us be serious for a moment,” France began, shifting closer, both his legs now over Russia's lap. “We have been seeing each other for quite some time, no? Well, I desire-”
“You can stop your sentence right there,” Russia interrupted, pushing France's legs off him. “If you're going to say something lewd, you can just leave.” He attempted to scramble to his feet, blushing heavily as the thought of him and France being intimate crept into his mind, blushing even further as France grabbed his coattail and yanked him back down again.
He found himself in France's lap, and although he knew that he weighed a lot, he made no immediate attempt to move. He was paralysed with embarrassment and the way the other man was grinning down at him only darkened his cheeks further.
“Unless you think love is lewd, then what I have to say shouldn't be a problem.” France slid a rose out from his sleeve and smiled, running the flower down Russia's face tenderly before he carried on speaking. “I have come to realise that my feelings for you are greater than I had previously thought. However, before I make such a verbal commitment, I desire to know how you feel about me.”
Russia regarded France for a moment before he turned his face away, still blushing furiously. His heart was racing; his mind working overtime. He felt something for France, something very strong but he couldn't voice his feelings. It wasn't in his nature to do such a thing.