France couldn’t stop thinking about what England had told him. Those simple, amazing, scaring, revealing words kept twirling inside his mind, dizzying him in a way he had never experienced before. It’s not like no one had ever said them to him before, but to hear them from England’s mouth, to see England tell him so, felt really different from the other times, they felt much more worth the effort.
And it was turning him on, maybe a little too much. France was managing to control himself, though.
It was only when they arrived back in London just a little before midnight, and England parked, hastily opened his open his door, and motioned France to follow him, that France felt that lust take him over again. England waited for him to get off the car, and, unexpectedly, tentatively took France’s hand, blushing as he did so, dragging them both into England’s apartment.
England didn’t let go when he opened the door, nor when he closed it again besides them. The gesture was so meaningful, that France couldn’t help himself anymore and pinned England against the door. All thoughts flew out of his head, when he realized that England wasn’t trying to free himself, as he had everything time France had done the same, either seriously or not. France immediately attacked England’s neck with kisses, and England moved his head enough to show a little more of skin.
England’s hands were trying to take the T-shirt off France, his cold fingers making France hiss slightly. England then moved his head up and found France’s lips. His eyes were closed, and, for a moment, France wanted him to open them, to see into that green, been swallowed by it, before he closed them too and let England kiss passionately.
There was something frenzy in the way England suddenly took off his still wet shirt and dropped it carelessly on the floor. France felt that what was happening was too amazing to describe it with words, so he stopped thinking altogether and just felt. They suddenly broke apart as England let go of France, stared at him straight in the eyes for a long, significant moment, and made a bee line to the stairs. They didn’t need words, because France knew what he had to do. He followed England up the stairs, and when France made the first step in England’s bedroom, England slammed him to the door and started kissing him again, back to where they were a second before.
“I love you.” France suddenly said. He almost made to say so in French, but managed to revert back in English in time.
“I know.” England whispered. His fingers were all over France’s body, his eyes were closed, France couldn’t only think about England and nothing else. “I always knew.”
France’s fingers ran through England’s hair, his thumb caressed England’s eyebrows, England’s eyes, England’s cheeks and, finally, England’s soft spot. The island opened his mouth a little at that, in surprise, and France, taking advantage of it, carried England in his arms and over to where the bed was.
“Idiot…!” England exclaimed, as he was carelessly dropped on the mattress. France smiled and then started kissing England again. England kissed back, pressed his whole body against France, and found the other’s face with his hands. England broke the kiss once more then, moved his neck and started kissing France’s jaw line, making France look on his right.
It happened then.
France’s eyes found the mirror, and saw America staring at him, with England’s arms around his shoulders. He was slightly panting, his hair was a mess, and his glasses were missing, but it was without any trace of doubt America. Everything shattered, as France suddenly stilled. America looked surprised, annoyed even, and France’s heart started to beat franticly against his chest, as England rose on his eyebrows and kissed America on the cheek.
Love me the "American" way [9a/10]
And it was turning him on, maybe a little too much. France was managing to control himself, though.
It was only when they arrived back in London just a little before midnight, and England parked, hastily opened his open his door, and motioned France to follow him, that France felt that lust take him over again. England waited for him to get off the car, and, unexpectedly, tentatively took France’s hand, blushing as he did so, dragging them both into England’s apartment.
England didn’t let go when he opened the door, nor when he closed it again besides them. The gesture was so meaningful, that France couldn’t help himself anymore and pinned England against the door. All thoughts flew out of his head, when he realized that England wasn’t trying to free himself, as he had everything time France had done the same, either seriously or not. France immediately attacked England’s neck with kisses, and England moved his head enough to show a little more of skin.
England’s hands were trying to take the T-shirt off France, his cold fingers making France hiss slightly. England then moved his head up and found France’s lips. His eyes were closed, and, for a moment, France wanted him to open them, to see into that green, been swallowed by it, before he closed them too and let England kiss passionately.
There was something frenzy in the way England suddenly took off his still wet shirt and dropped it carelessly on the floor. France felt that what was happening was too amazing to describe it with words, so he stopped thinking altogether and just felt. They suddenly broke apart as England let go of France, stared at him straight in the eyes for a long, significant moment, and made a bee line to the stairs. They didn’t need words, because France knew what he had to do. He followed England up the stairs, and when France made the first step in England’s bedroom, England slammed him to the door and started kissing him again, back to where they were a second before.
“I love you.” France suddenly said. He almost made to say so in French, but managed to revert back in English in time.
“I know.” England whispered. His fingers were all over France’s body, his eyes were closed, France couldn’t only think about England and nothing else. “I always knew.”
France’s fingers ran through England’s hair, his thumb caressed England’s eyebrows, England’s eyes, England’s cheeks and, finally, England’s soft spot. The island opened his mouth a little at that, in surprise, and France, taking advantage of it, carried England in his arms and over to where the bed was.
“Idiot…!” England exclaimed, as he was carelessly dropped on the mattress. France smiled and then started kissing England again. England kissed back, pressed his whole body against France, and found the other’s face with his hands. England broke the kiss once more then, moved his neck and started kissing France’s jaw line, making France look on his right.
It happened then.
France’s eyes found the mirror, and saw America staring at him, with England’s arms around his shoulders. He was slightly panting, his hair was a mess, and his glasses were missing, but it was without any trace of doubt America. Everything shattered, as France suddenly stilled. America looked surprised, annoyed even, and France’s heart started to beat franticly against his chest, as England rose on his eyebrows and kissed America on the cheek.