“Tell me how you feel about me, Russia. You're giving me such mixed signals.” France said as he continued to caress Russia's face with the rose.
“I...I don't know. This is all so sudden.” Although it wasn't. Ever since their first date, Russia had started to feel things he had only read about in books....but he couldn't bring himself to say it. As far as he knew, France was only after him for one reason.
He shifted uncomfortably, trying to sit up, only to have France pull him down into his lap again. The closeness made him feel...weird. He couldn't shake off the feeling that made him blush right to his ears. He didn't know what it was, how would he? He never made it obvious but his experience in such matters was non-existent,
“Surely you could sense that this is just more than just a schoolboy crush for me.” France drawled, moving the rose onto Russia's chest. He longed to see what was under the large coat. The suits the man had worn to their dates had been divine but... he longed to see even more. He couldn't even recall a time he had seen anything more than the skin on his face. He always wore that scarf; those gloves, despite any formal attire he would adorn.
Russia looked down at the rose. “Why do you like me?” The uncharacteristic words left his mouth before he even had a chance to think them over.
France stared down at the larger man. “I don't.” He paused, instantly noticing a flicker of hurt on Russia's face. “I love you and I love you for many different reasons. You're very attractive. Intelligent. Powerful. I long to be intimate with you. I think you are simply delicious...”
“You don't mean that. I've heard you say these things to other people. Your words are so empty; so meaningless,” Russia mumbled, taking hold of the rose and scrambling up.
France didn't attempt to stop him as he moved over to the fire, put off by the suddenly cold breeze that blew over him. Instead, he watched as Russia carelessly discarded the rose into the fire.
“How can I prove to you that I love you?” France asked. He had never said such a thing before. The mere notion of questioning love was unfathomable, especially when it came to him. He wasn't lying when he said he loved people. Sure, he may have only loved them for a few minutes, a few hours or a few days but it was still love and he cherished all his romantic memories.
Russia let out a long sigh. “You can leave me alone...” He pulled his scarf up and over his mouth, nuzzling the soft wool. He didn't want to continue the conversation. It was over as far as he was concerned.
It was then that he felt a chest against his back. Two arms snaked their way around his waist and he could see France's face out of the corner of his eye.
“You may not believe me, but I do love you,” he whispered, pressing his lips against Russia's cheek. “And no matter how long it takes for you to believe me, I shall wait.”
Re: Vodka scented roses~ 3/?
“I...I don't know. This is all so sudden.” Although it wasn't. Ever since their first date, Russia had started to feel things he had only read about in books....but he couldn't bring himself to say it. As far as he knew, France was only after him for one reason.
He shifted uncomfortably, trying to sit up, only to have France pull him down into his lap again. The closeness made him feel...weird. He couldn't shake off the feeling that made him blush right to his ears. He didn't know what it was, how would he? He never made it obvious but his experience in such matters was non-existent,
“Surely you could sense that this is just more than just a schoolboy crush for me.” France drawled, moving the rose onto Russia's chest. He longed to see what was under the large coat. The suits the man had worn to their dates had been divine but... he longed to see even more. He couldn't even recall a time he had seen anything more than the skin on his face. He always wore that scarf; those gloves, despite any formal attire he would adorn.
Russia looked down at the rose. “Why do you like me?” The uncharacteristic words left his mouth before he even had a chance to think them over.
France stared down at the larger man. “I don't.” He paused, instantly noticing a flicker of hurt on Russia's face. “I love you and I love you for many different reasons. You're very attractive. Intelligent. Powerful. I long to be intimate with you. I think you are simply delicious...”
“You don't mean that. I've heard you say these things to other people. Your words are so empty; so meaningless,” Russia mumbled, taking hold of the rose and scrambling up.
France didn't attempt to stop him as he moved over to the fire, put off by the suddenly cold breeze that blew over him. Instead, he watched as Russia carelessly discarded the rose into the fire.
“How can I prove to you that I love you?” France asked. He had never said such a thing before. The mere notion of questioning love was unfathomable, especially when it came to him. He wasn't lying when he said he loved people. Sure, he may have only loved them for a few minutes, a few hours or a few days but it was still love and he cherished all his romantic memories.
Russia let out a long sigh. “You can leave me alone...” He pulled his scarf up and over his mouth, nuzzling the soft wool. He didn't want to continue the conversation. It was over as far as he was concerned.
It was then that he felt a chest against his back. Two arms snaked their way around his waist and he could see France's face out of the corner of his eye.
“You may not believe me, but I do love you,” he whispered, pressing his lips against Russia's cheek. “And no matter how long it takes for you to believe me, I shall wait.”