England pushes the needle through the cloth in his embroidery hoop with hands that are shaking ever slow slightly. He mentally curses; taking another long sip of tea and wishes it was something stronger. He’s determined to stay sober though, because tonight won’t be like the other nights. France is coming over for dinner tonight, and then afterwards, England knows, they will have mind-blowing sex. He’s counting on that happening actually because tonight he has a specific request for France about what he wants to do in bed. England generally doesn’t talk about sex, especially not to France.
It’s not that he can’t talk about sex and it’s not that he hasn’t talked about his sexual preferences, kinks and fantasies with other lovers. It’s just that there is something particularly humiliating about doing it with France. He knows France will be judging him. Storing up all the little details so he can throw it back in England’s face the next time he calls France a pervert for flirting with him in public. So usually England just lets what happens happen when it comes to sex with France and it’s always good, very, very good. When he absolutely has something he is simply dying to do with France, something he really loves, England gets good and sloshed, before demanding that France do whatever it is to him. That way later he can always blame it on the alcohol. The problem is it’s not good when he’s too drunk to move. He can never really feel the pleasure as intensely as he would like, there’s the nausea and dizziness, which are deffinitely not turn-ons. He has a hard time remembering the entire experience the next morning, not to mention it always feels like he’s used France somehow.
England jabs the embroidery needle almost viciously back into the cloth. Get it together man, he tells himself sternly, you’re an adult, act like it.
Dinner goes fairly well, the food is lovely because France cooks it and England is banned from even being in the kitchen while the cooking is happening. England refuses the glass of wine France offers in favor of water, which gets him a raised eyebrow, but France doesn’t comment. They talk about politics and music, how the novel France is writing in his spare time is going and how England’s garden is fairing with all the unexpected (even for England) rain. France teases him a little about being jealous over France and Germany’s political relationship, what do you think he’s going to steal me away from you, mon petit lapin?
All in all it’s very normal and very domestic. They’ve been doing this once a week when their schedules allowed it for a couple decades now. England is beginning to relax the knots his shoulder muscles had tied themselves into have begun to loosen. Soon though France will begin clearing the table and England will have to say something or not bring it up at all this evening.
“Is there something you want to talk about mon cher?”
England almost jumps guiltily but catches himself in time, talking a small sip of water instead. “What do you mean?”
“You keep twitching.” France gives him a look over his shoulder as he begins setting dishes in the sink. “You refused the wine, and you keep staring at me, it does not take a genius to finger out there is something on your mind.”
England takes a breath; “There is something as a matter of fact, and something I thought we could do to night.”
France turns around a looks at him, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the counter, giving England his full attention.
“I . . .” He is going to regret this; he is so going to regret this. It’s like handing the enemy a loaded gun even if France doesn’t laugh at him, he’d most certainly hold it against him late. It isn’t even that kinky, England could be requesting all sorts of other much less sexually normal things that just happened to get him all hot under the collar. This is rather vanilla really, but England is requesting it, asking for it, and that in and over itself is the problem.
France sighs “Would this be easier if we went up stairs now?” He glances meaningfully at the staircase leading to England’s bedroom, “the dishes can wait until later.”
England nods and France moves across the room to cup England’s face in his hands and kiss him on the lips. After a moment England stands so he can put his arms around France’s shoulders wind his fingers in France’s hair, kiss him back with just as much force. England runs his fingers lightly around the waistband of France’ slacks, fingers skirting up underneath silk shirt the other is wearing. France shivers ever so slightly at the feather light touches, sucking England bottom lips between his teeth before biting gently. They pull apart finally and England leads the way up the stairs snorting and rolling his eyes when he feels France grope his arse once or twice on the way up. When they get inside the bedroom France kisses him again, first on the lips and then along his neck, trailing up to right behind his ear, making England squirm. France steps back enough to pull his own shirt off, and England undoes his shoes and gets his socks off before becoming distracted by France’s chest.
It isn’t so much wanting to, as having to reach forward and mouth across France’s pectorals, touch and play with his nipples, feel the other nation’s chest hair against his face. France’s fingers are gentle, carding through the hair at the nape of England’s neck. He’s making soft little noises as England does things he knows France especially likes, touching him there or like that. Finally England pulls away and strips off his own sweater-vest and shirt, shucks his trousers and climbs on to the bed only in his boxer. France looks at him for a long moment before quickly getting rid of his own shoes, socks and slacks and climbs onto the bed too. He kisses down England’s neck this time and licks at one of England’s sensitive little nipples before looking up at the other nation.
England stares at him for a moment before jerking out of his pleasure induced haze enough to blush deeply, “Yes well.” For a moment he really thinks he’s going to chicken out and not ask at all. He’s never so much as flinched in battle but he’s actually getting cold feet over admitting something so trivial to France. It’s that thought the pushes him forward, because the idea of being a coward is something England can’t stand. “I want to you to touch me with your mouth,” he says completely seriously, “here” his hand skim over the bulge in his boxers, “and here,” his hand drops lower between his thighs, “until I come.” There’s a beat and England isn’t quite ready to see the mocking laughter in France’s eyes yet, “please.” He finishes a little belatedly without looking up.
He looks at France finally, and the other nation isn’t laughing, if anything he looks thoughtful. England clears his throat feeling a little awkward and France snaps out of his reveries focusing once more on the other nation, “of course Angleterre.” He murmurs bending his head to kiss England right at the base of his throat, flicking the fragile skin with his tongue before working his way down to England’s nipples again. England sighs with equal parts relief and arousal and lies back, staring at the ceiling as France’s mouth moves down his chest. Then France is licking around one nipple, slow and meticulous and England can’t help but look down and watch France’s tongue against his skin. When France pulls back England’s nipple is wet and fully erect. France moves to the other one also gently licking it, while is fingers come up to pinch the first slick nipple hard and England hisses is entire body arching into the pain/pleasure of it. France only increases the pressure, mouth gently on one little nub while his fingers work almost viciously at the other, England feels tears start at the corners of his eyes. Then France pulls away and his fingers leave England’s abused flesh, moving across his chest to squeeze the other just as hard, England whole body bucks and France chuckles softly and pulls away. England realizes his cock is rock hard and he has spread his thighs wide open. He flushes again, and France makes a pleased noise and hooks his fingers in the waistband of England’s boxers before pulling them down and off.
England squirms a little now fully naked and watches France out of half lidded eyes as the other nation leans forward. Hot breath ghosts over England erection, making him hiss a little. France smiles and then bends forward enough to actually nuzzle at England’s cock, and England hisses again this time at the scrap of France’s beard against sensitive skin and France gins. As France takes the tip of England’s cock into his mouth, England thinks hazily that he is a very luck man. Because contrary to popular belief France hates giving blowjobs, loathes it in fact. He’ll do it for England though, and the fact of the matter is France is bloody good at it. England moans as France takes more of him into that wet hot mouth, fingers rub and work his balls as his tongue works up and down England’s length. France pulls back up a little, tongue sliding across the crown and sensitive underside of England’s cock while his knuckles strokes right behind England’s balls and England pants and tries to keep from writhing too much. It feels fantastic though and when France pulls all the way off and England makes a small noise of protest.
“Turn over mon cheri.” France requests hands gently on England’s hips and England tries to remember how his legs work and finally manages to haul himself to the side and turn himself over onto his stomach. France’s hands angles his hips up, push his legs out until England is kneeling legs wide, chest on the bed, arse in the air, breathing hard through is mouth into his own bedspread. “So pretty.” France murmurs hand running down the curve of England’s arse.
“Get on with it.” England finally manages to grit out and he doesn’t have to see the other nation to sense France’s smile.
“Impatient Angleterre.” France says with a hint of teasing to his voice and England opens his mouth to tell France exactly what will happen to him if he doesn’t give England what he wants right now. Any words he was going to say though are cut of with a gasp as France’s hands clamp around each arse cheek and spread England wide open. There is pleasure induced white noise at the back of England’s head threatening to overwhelm him.
France murmurs something England can’t quite hear before kissing him right on the base of his spine. Then France’s tongue moves down and England can’t breathe. It’s a long, fast swipe that makes every nerve ending in, pretty much, England’s entire lower body stand up and take notice. It’s warm-wet and then cool and England’s skin prickles a little with anticipation. Then France does it again this time slower, with more care, from tailbone to balls and England gasps. The movement of France’s tongue gets smaller circling closer and closer to England’s hole. England’s thighs shake and he can feel heat pooling in his belly, the muscles of his arse and hole twitch and contract under France’s carefully probing tongue. France hums softly to himself the sound creating a pleasant vibration against England’s skin and flicks his tongue against delicate clenching flesh. England pants into the bedspread, hands clenching and unclenching on either side of his head. One of France’s hands leave his arse, and rub across his back and then France tongue is probing inside. England lets out a strangled noise; because France’s tongue is hot and wet and soft, and so very good.
“Right there. God-oh God!” He’s pretty sure he’s babbling and France’s hands spread him wide again France tongue pulling out and then pushing back in over and over and over . . .
England comes without touching himself, hands clenched so hard his knuckles must be white, and he thinks he makes a noise so high it’s probably embarrassing but he doesn’t care. France lets go of England and pulls back. England isn’t really aware enough to realize what the other nation’s doing until he hears France gasp and feels hot semen hit his arse and lower back. France collapses down next to England on the bed.
They both lie next to each other quietly trying to get their breath back. After a few minutes England makes a face and France wordlessly rolls over and goes to the bathroom. He returns with a towel and wipes England off, and the other nation sighs and rolls over onto his back.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
France snorts and cleans himself off before through the towel into the hamper. France’s eyes slide shut and for a few minutes England thinks he’s fallen asleep. “Angleterre?”
“I realized that we have never really talked about your sexual needs.” France opens his eyes and looks at England then raises his hand stroke across England’s cheek, “I am sorry mon petit lapin.”
“It’s nothing.” England looks away, “we don’t talk about what you need either.”
France hums a little “true. Perhaps we should.” When England looks down at him inquiringly and France smiles, “talk about what we want.”
England shifts a little uncomfortable, all his anxieties around talking to France about sex coming back in force. “What about the dishes?” he says weakly and France studies him.
“Aright” He says finally, “Let us go down stares and clean up from dinner, and then we can talk about what we want.” He watches England as he says it and England guess some of his unhappiness must be apparent because France reaches out again to cup his cheek, “I will go first.” He says softly, “It is better for us to know Angleterre, and I know there are more things you want that you have not shared then just a little rimming.”
England flushes and bites his lip but France is right and France has already offered to tell England what he wants, be a man England tells himself and finally nods, “alright then.”
France smiles and leans forward and kisses him. They tangle together there on the bed for a few long passionate moment, before England pulls back smiling a little and makes to get out of bed. He pull on a pair of jeans and a worn band t-shirt, and France pulls on a silk robe he’d left at England’s place a long time ago for convenience sake. They both make their way down stairs and England loads the dishwasher and France’s rinses out the pots that have been soaking. England distracts himself form his nerves by focusing on France’s wide, lush hips and he can’t help moving behind France and sliding his hands around those hips. France turns around smiling and they’re kissing again. France pulls away and quickly puts the pots in the drying rack, then turns around and pulls England in close, hands cradling his jaw and kisses him sweetly on the lips.
“tea?” France asks softly as they pull apart and England blinks at him for several second.
“Why yes, certainly.” England moves around the kitchen, putting the water on and getting the cups out and France makes his way into the living room. Making the tea soothes England, lets him collect himself and when he caries the cups into the living room he finds France curled up on the couch, hair twisted up and back from his face with a pencil. England sits next to him on the couch and hands him a cup. France smiles at him and takes a sip of tea before looking up at England.
I can't even express how much I love this, anon; I'm sure OP will be quite happy, because this was quite descriptive and sexy, but with really nice, nuanced characterization. <3 You did a great job with England's uncertainty with France, what their relationship is, and what they can "safely" talk about, but you may have done an even better job subtly obscuring France's own uncertainty, which is perfect for England POV.
But seriously, I love how England thinks about not asking for what he wants from France in particular in terms of "not giving France ammunition" when it really comes down to his own uncertainty and fear of mockery from this man in particular. And France's resolution to change things for the better at the end of this story is lovely, as is his careful handling of England throughout the fic; I kind of like how he kept changing the setting to make England more comfortable.
And on a less loquacious note, I love the description "lush hips" for some reason. :D
THIS. This is the kind of feedback this fill deserves and I couldn't word. Everything you said are exactly my sentiments. I'm amazed at all the awesome!France I keep seeing around lately, especially in relation to what a sex partner is/should be.
I wanted to mention that the open end is, for once, extremely satisfying, authoranon, because the content of their fantasies and desires isn't what matters here, what matters is the uncertainty and the drive to change things for the better ^^
But yeah, that's so true about the open ending; the story is so good that of course you want more, but it ends on such a lovely note and it such a perfect place that you also just want it to a remain an undefined "new beginning," yeah? :D
Don't be so good at this, if you don't want itXD I reviewed a review, oh godXD
Exactly. Not only an undefined "new beginning" but an eternal one. This relationship will always remain in this wonderful rebirth stage in our memory because of it ^^ It more rewarding for our emotional needs to see them in this perfect little moment of opening up and accepting the other, than the aftermath of the conversation, or even a few years into the future with everything solved. That's thanks to the author making the fic, as hot as it is, more emotional than sexual. who would've guessed, looking at the requestXD
Oh, I really liked this, authoranon! I'm not usually in to things like rimming, but this was very hot but also mixed with sweet and sensual. The end, I think, was my favorite. France and England act kind of domestic, but still very in love and aware of their own sexual needs. It's great :D
I would say, though, to read over your fic before posting it or get a beta. There are a few spelling and grammar mistakes that could have been fixed pretty easily.
OMG, author anon. *____* Holy shit was that wonderful. And not only the sex but the whole thing, their relationship, England's thoughts and insecurities...
And I find the idea fascinating that France actually wouldn't like giving blowjobs. I don't know why you chose to have it that way but it's interestingly different. And I can sort of see it too, I think...
Hello this is not the original author of this story this is a different one. My anonymous name is Akane the Anon I do not have a tumbler or Facebook
What Is Not Said Sequel 1/?
It has been five months since France and I had just finished talking about our sexual kinks. Since then they had made a agreement that twice every month they would take turns doing each others kinks, last time was England's so this time it is France's turn. That is why he was currently over France's lap while France was sitting in a brown wooden chair in the middle of England's bedroom. "Do you remember our safe word, England?" France said his eyes were filled with lust. "No safe word today spank me till YOU are satisfied, France," So France pulled down my pants and then my boxers I can feel the cool draft on my bum.
I then see France pick up a small circle shaped black wooden brush. The first hit comes its soft a few more smacks in I can feel that France is increasing the strength of each hit. He is alternating hits on each cheack
He is alternating hits on each cheek my bum is hot and stinging in pain but I will not cry I have been through worse. That Frog will have to better to get me to cry, then the hits stop. "England, stand up and go stand in the up-right corner of your room, I am going to go get my martinet a much better implement than your BRITISH cane I will be right back," I growled then I got up from his lap I kicked my pants and boxers to the side the only thing saving me from being naked was my white collared shirt and red tie. Then I went to the corner by the time I did that France was in the room. "Such lovey milky white thighs you have I am going to love painting them the color of my favorite flower the rose which I already did to your derrière.
France then gave him the first hard hit to my thighs it hurt but I can take it. "You shall count the hits I am giving you England," France then hit me again. "Two," I said I refused to yell it out hit after hit came. "Tell me why you are being punished in a non-sexual way rather in way that is ment to be corporal punishment?" France said. "Because over the past month I have cursing and getting into bar fights and you and both agreed on domestic discipline to ow improve my ow bad habits," I said.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FrUK - rimming
(Anonymous) 2010-08-17 12:56 am (UTC)(link)But you get a huge bonus if it's consensual, hot, and if there's not any alcohol involved.
It's fine if it leads to penetration, too.
What Is Not Said (part 1/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-22 11:03 pm (UTC)(link)It’s not that he can’t talk about sex and it’s not that he hasn’t talked about his sexual preferences, kinks and fantasies with other lovers. It’s just that there is something particularly humiliating about doing it with France. He knows France will be judging him. Storing up all the little details so he can throw it back in England’s face the next time he calls France a pervert for flirting with him in public. So usually England just lets what happens happen when it comes to sex with France and it’s always good, very, very good. When he absolutely has something he is simply dying to do with France, something he really loves, England gets good and sloshed, before demanding that France do whatever it is to him. That way later he can always blame it on the alcohol. The problem is it’s not good when he’s too drunk to move. He can never really feel the pleasure as intensely as he would like, there’s the nausea and dizziness, which are deffinitely not turn-ons. He has a hard time remembering the entire experience the next morning, not to mention it always feels like he’s used France somehow.
England jabs the embroidery needle almost viciously back into the cloth. Get it together man, he tells himself sternly, you’re an adult, act like it.
What Is Not Said (part 2/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-22 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)All in all it’s very normal and very domestic. They’ve been doing this once a week when their schedules allowed it for a couple decades now. England is beginning to relax the knots his shoulder muscles had tied themselves into have begun to loosen. Soon though France will begin clearing the table and England will have to say something or not bring it up at all this evening.
“Is there something you want to talk about mon cher?”
England almost jumps guiltily but catches himself in time, talking a small sip of water instead. “What do you mean?”
“You keep twitching.” France gives him a look over his shoulder as he begins setting dishes in the sink. “You refused the wine, and you keep staring at me, it does not take a genius to finger out there is something on your mind.”
England takes a breath; “There is something as a matter of fact, and something I thought we could do to night.”
France turns around a looks at him, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the counter, giving England his full attention.
“I . . .” He is going to regret this; he is so going to regret this. It’s like handing the enemy a loaded gun even if France doesn’t laugh at him, he’d most certainly hold it against him late. It isn’t even that kinky, England could be requesting all sorts of other much less sexually normal things that just happened to get him all hot under the collar. This is rather vanilla really, but England is requesting it, asking for it, and that in and over itself is the problem.
France sighs “Would this be easier if we went up stairs now?” He glances meaningfully at the staircase leading to England’s bedroom, “the dishes can wait until later.”
England nods and France moves across the room to cup England’s face in his hands and kiss him on the lips. After a moment England stands so he can put his arms around France’s shoulders wind his fingers in France’s hair, kiss him back with just as much force. England runs his fingers lightly around the waistband of France’ slacks, fingers skirting up underneath silk shirt the other is wearing. France shivers ever so slightly at the feather light touches, sucking England bottom lips between his teeth before biting gently. They pull apart finally and England leads the way up the stairs snorting and rolling his eyes when he feels France grope his arse once or twice on the way up. When they get inside the bedroom France kisses him again, first on the lips and then along his neck, trailing up to right behind his ear, making England squirm. France steps back enough to pull his own shirt off, and England undoes his shoes and gets his socks off before becoming distracted by France’s chest.
It isn’t so much wanting to, as having to reach forward and mouth across France’s pectorals, touch and play with his nipples, feel the other nation’s chest hair against his face. France’s fingers are gentle, carding through the hair at the nape of England’s neck. He’s making soft little noises as England does things he knows France especially likes, touching him there or like that. Finally England pulls away and strips off his own sweater-vest and shirt, shucks his trousers and climbs on to the bed only in his boxer. France looks at him for a long moment before quickly getting rid of his own shoes, socks and slacks and climbs onto the bed too. He kisses down England’s neck this time and licks at one of England’s sensitive little nipples before looking up at the other nation.
“There was something you wanted to ask?”
What Is Not Said (part 3/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-22 11:24 pm (UTC)(link)He looks at France finally, and the other nation isn’t laughing, if anything he looks thoughtful. England clears his throat feeling a little awkward and France snaps out of his reveries focusing once more on the other nation, “of course Angleterre.” He murmurs bending his head to kiss England right at the base of his throat, flicking the fragile skin with his tongue before working his way down to England’s nipples again. England sighs with equal parts relief and arousal and lies back, staring at the ceiling as France’s mouth moves down his chest. Then France is licking around one nipple, slow and meticulous and England can’t help but look down and watch France’s tongue against his skin. When France pulls back England’s nipple is wet and fully erect. France moves to the other one also gently licking it, while is fingers come up to pinch the first slick nipple hard and England hisses is entire body arching into the pain/pleasure of it. France only increases the pressure, mouth gently on one little nub while his fingers work almost viciously at the other, England feels tears start at the corners of his eyes. Then France pulls away and his fingers leave England’s abused flesh, moving across his chest to squeeze the other just as hard, England whole body bucks and France chuckles softly and pulls away. England realizes his cock is rock hard and he has spread his thighs wide open. He flushes again, and France makes a pleased noise and hooks his fingers in the waistband of England’s boxers before pulling them down and off.
England squirms a little now fully naked and watches France out of half lidded eyes as the other nation leans forward. Hot breath ghosts over England erection, making him hiss a little. France smiles and then bends forward enough to actually nuzzle at England’s cock, and England hisses again this time at the scrap of France’s beard against sensitive skin and France gins. As France takes the tip of England’s cock into his mouth, England thinks hazily that he is a very luck man. Because contrary to popular belief France hates giving blowjobs, loathes it in fact. He’ll do it for England though, and the fact of the matter is France is bloody good at it. England moans as France takes more of him into that wet hot mouth, fingers rub and work his balls as his tongue works up and down England’s length. France pulls back up a little, tongue sliding across the crown and sensitive underside of England’s cock while his knuckles strokes right behind England’s balls and England pants and tries to keep from writhing too much. It feels fantastic though and when France pulls all the way off and England makes a small noise of protest.
What Is Not Said (part 4/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 12:25 am (UTC)(link)“Get on with it.” England finally manages to grit out and he doesn’t have to see the other nation to sense France’s smile.
“Impatient Angleterre.” France says with a hint of teasing to his voice and England opens his mouth to tell France exactly what will happen to him if he doesn’t give England what he wants right now. Any words he was going to say though are cut of with a gasp as France’s hands clamp around each arse cheek and spread England wide open. There is pleasure induced white noise at the back of England’s head threatening to overwhelm him.
France murmurs something England can’t quite hear before kissing him right on the base of his spine. Then France’s tongue moves down and England can’t breathe. It’s a long, fast swipe that makes every nerve ending in, pretty much, England’s entire lower body stand up and take notice. It’s warm-wet and then cool and England’s skin prickles a little with anticipation. Then France does it again this time slower, with more care, from tailbone to balls and England gasps. The movement of France’s tongue gets smaller circling closer and closer to England’s hole. England’s thighs shake and he can feel heat pooling in his belly, the muscles of his arse and hole twitch and contract under France’s carefully probing tongue. France hums softly to himself the sound creating a pleasant vibration against England’s skin and flicks his tongue against delicate clenching flesh. England pants into the bedspread, hands clenching and unclenching on either side of his head. One of France’s hands leave his arse, and rub across his back and then France tongue is probing inside. England lets out a strangled noise; because France’s tongue is hot and wet and soft, and so very good.
“Right there. God-oh God!” He’s pretty sure he’s babbling and France’s hands spread him wide again France tongue pulling out and then pushing back in over and over and over . . .
England comes without touching himself, hands clenched so hard his knuckles must be white, and he thinks he makes a noise so high it’s probably embarrassing but he doesn’t care. France lets go of England and pulls back. England isn’t really aware enough to realize what the other nation’s doing until he hears France gasp and feels hot semen hit his arse and lower back. France collapses down next to England on the bed.
They both lie next to each other quietly trying to get their breath back. After a few minutes England makes a face and France wordlessly rolls over and goes to the bathroom. He returns with a towel and wipes England off, and the other nation sighs and rolls over onto his back.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
France snorts and cleans himself off before through the towel into the hamper. France’s eyes slide shut and for a few minutes England thinks he’s fallen asleep. “Angleterre?”
“Yes?” England rolls over and looks at France.
What Is Not Said (part 5/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 12:27 am (UTC)(link)“It’s nothing.” England looks away, “we don’t talk about what you need either.”
France hums a little “true. Perhaps we should.” When England looks down at him inquiringly and France smiles, “talk about what we want.”
England shifts a little uncomfortable, all his anxieties around talking to France about sex coming back in force. “What about the dishes?” he says weakly and France studies him.
“Aright” He says finally, “Let us go down stares and clean up from dinner, and then we can talk about what we want.” He watches England as he says it and England guess some of his unhappiness must be apparent because France reaches out again to cup his cheek, “I will go first.” He says softly, “It is better for us to know Angleterre, and I know there are more things you want that you have not shared then just a little rimming.”
England flushes and bites his lip but France is right and France has already offered to tell England what he wants, be a man England tells himself and finally nods, “alright then.”
France smiles and leans forward and kisses him. They tangle together there on the bed for a few long passionate moment, before England pulls back smiling a little and makes to get out of bed. He pull on a pair of jeans and a worn band t-shirt, and France pulls on a silk robe he’d left at England’s place a long time ago for convenience sake.
They both make their way down stairs and England loads the dishwasher and France’s rinses out the pots that have been soaking. England distracts himself form his nerves by focusing on France’s wide, lush hips and he can’t help moving behind France and sliding his hands around those hips. France turns around smiling and they’re kissing again. France pulls away and quickly puts the pots in the drying rack, then turns around and pulls England in close, hands cradling his jaw and kisses him sweetly on the lips.
“tea?” France asks softly as they pull apart and England blinks at him for several second.
“Why yes, certainly.” England moves around the kitchen, putting the water on and getting the cups out and France makes his way into the living room. Making the tea soothes England, lets him collect himself and when he caries the cups into the living room he finds France curled up on the couch, hair twisted up and back from his face with a pencil. England sits next to him on the couch and hands him a cup. France smiles at him and takes a sip of tea before looking up at England.
“Alright” he says softly, “I’ll start, shall I?”
Re: What Is Not Said (part 5/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 01:07 am (UTC)(link)But seriously, I love how England thinks about not asking for what he wants from France in particular in terms of "not giving France ammunition" when it really comes down to his own uncertainty and fear of mockery from this man in particular. And France's resolution to change things for the better at the end of this story is lovely, as is his careful handling of England throughout the fic; I kind of like how he kept changing the setting to make England more comfortable.
And on a less loquacious note, I love the description "lush hips" for some reason. :D
Seconding everything <3
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 01:32 am (UTC)(link)I wanted to mention that the open end is, for once, extremely satisfying, authoranon, because the content of their fantasies and desires isn't what matters here, what matters is the uncertainty and the drive to change things for the better ^^
Re: Seconding everything <3
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 01:39 am (UTC)(link)But yeah, that's so true about the open ending; the story is so good that of course you want more, but it ends on such a lovely note and it such a perfect place that you also just want it to a remain an undefined "new beginning," yeah? :D
Re: Seconding everything <3
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 02:14 am (UTC)(link)I reviewed a review, oh godXD
Exactly. Not only an undefined "new beginning" but an eternal one. This relationship will always remain in this wonderful rebirth stage in our memory because of it ^^
It more rewarding for our emotional needs to see them in this perfect little moment of opening up and accepting the other, than the aftermath of the conversation, or even a few years into the future with everything solved. That's thanks to the author making the fic, as hot as it is, more emotional than sexual.
who would've guessed, looking at the requestXDRe: What Is Not Said (part 5/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 01:15 am (UTC)(link)I would say, though, to read over your fic before posting it or get a beta. There are a few spelling and grammar mistakes that could have been fixed pretty easily.
Re: What Is Not Said (part 5/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 01:37 am (UTC)(link)HOT DAMN
+1
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 01:41 am (UTC)(link)+2
(Anonymous) 2010-09-24 01:39 am (UTC)(link)Re: What Is Not Said (part 5/5)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-23 01:40 am (UTC)(link)And I find the idea fascinating that France actually wouldn't like giving blowjobs. I don't know why you chose to have it that way but it's interestingly different. And I can sort of see it too, I think...
Re: (part 5/5)
What Is Not Said Sequel 1/?
It has been five months since France and I had just finished talking about our sexual kinks. Since then they had made a agreement that twice every month they would take turns doing each others kinks, last time was England's so this time it is France's turn. That is why he was currently over France's lap while France was sitting in a brown wooden chair in the middle of England's bedroom. "Do you remember our safe word, England?" France said his eyes were filled with lust. "No safe word today spank me till YOU are satisfied, France," So France pulled down my pants and then my boxers I can feel the cool draft on my bum.
I then see France pick up a small circle shaped black wooden brush. The first hit comes its soft a few more smacks in I can feel that France is increasing the strength of each hit. He is alternating hits on each cheack
Re: (part 5/5)
(Anonymous) 2012-11-13 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)He is alternating hits on each cheek my bum is hot and stinging in pain but I will not cry I have been through worse. That Frog will have to better to get me to cry, then the hits stop. "England, stand up and go stand in the up-right corner of your room, I am going to go get my martinet a much better implement than your BRITISH cane I will be right back," I growled then I got up from his lap I kicked my pants and boxers to the side the only thing saving me from being naked was my white collared shirt and red tie. Then I went to the corner by the time I did that France was in the room. "Such lovey milky white thighs you have I am going to love painting them the color of my favorite flower the rose which I already did to your derrière.
France then gave him the first hard hit to my thighs it hurt but I can take it. "You shall count the hits I am giving you England," France then hit me again. "Two," I said I refused to yell it out hit after hit came. "Tell me why you are being punished in a non-sexual way rather in way that is ment to be corporal punishment?" France said. "Because over the past month I have cursing and getting into bar fights and you and both agreed on domestic discipline to ow improve my ow bad habits," I said.