When I Say [1/1]
Title: When I Say [1/1]
Author: Melly
Rating: MA
Characters/Pairings: France/Canada
Warnings: Language, talk and implications of sex, including talk about sex of the non-con variety. Nothing very explicit, but it’s there.
Summary: Francis is aware, to some degree, of his not-entirely-factual reputation, but it still hurts to know how much it has preceded him.
A/N: De-anon from the kink meme. Any/any, surprised when their partner takes “no” for an answer. This prompt really caught my interest, and I’ve wanted to do something like this for a long while. So, enjoy!
The giddy, new sheen to their relationship hadn’t quite worn off yet, and Francis wasn’t sure it ever would, since he suspected even centuries into the future, Matthew would still always greet him with that warm, sweet smile that never failed to make his heart jump, just a little bit. It was difficult to resist the urge to pull Matthew against him and kiss the other breathless when he could still picture very clearly the way the other stuttered over his confession, a jumble of French and English, je t-je-love you. I love you. Or, most of all, how it felt like a relief, like finally coming home, to hear it and say it in return.
But when they were alone, he could touch and kiss Matthew in any way he wanted, press him up against the door of the hotel room and hear him let out needy, breathy moans. Matthew had his hands tangled in Francis’s hair, thumbs brushing against the nape of his neck as Francis sucked at the pulse in his throat. His tie was already undone, both their suit jackets in rumpled heaps on the floor, and Francis dragged both his hands down Matthew’s torso, pausing to untuck his shirt when he got to the hem of the other’s slacks. Deftly, Francis undid the belt, the button, and pulled down the zipper before cupping Matthew through his boxers.
“O-oh, oh. Oh, God.” He shuddered, arching up off the door as Francis tightened his grip, squeezing and rubbing the heel of his hand along Matthew’s cock.
“Beautiful,” Francis murmured, tilting his head up for a kiss, deep and thorough, feeling Matthew-his lovely, wonderful, perfect Matthew-nearly melt against him.
But, the moment he eased his hand under the elastic of the other’s boxers, Matthew stilled, breath coming in quick, sharp intakes. The reaction was confusing, but it could have been out of surprise…
“Francis. Francis, stop-stop-” Immediately, he did as told, pulling his hand away and taking a short step back to give Matthew some room. He looked panicked, eyes wide and curling into himself a bit as he attempted to even out his breathing.
“Shh, cheri, what is the matter?” Francis reached out, thinking to pet Matthew’s hair or rub his shoulder for comfort, but he wasn’t sure if the other wanted to be touched, so he drew his hand back.
“I’m sorry. I just think it was too much too fast. I felt so lightheaded....” He ran a hand through his hair, gaze flicking upwards briefly. “You-you stopped.”
“No need to apologize for that. And yes. Of course I did.” The surprise on Matthew’s face might as well have been a kick to his sternum. “You believed otherwise? You really think that of me?”
“I thought…I thought you-”
“Don’t hesitate.” Francis’s eyes narrowed, and he was dimly aware of a sharp pain in his palm from where his nails were digging into the flesh, but he felt like he was going to be violently sick from the thought that Matthew, the person he loved, assumed he would have-merde. “Say what you think. Probably no worse than I have heard before. Did you think I would have tied you down? Forced you open and taken you while you begged me to stop?”
Matthew flinched like the words were a slap, shaking his head in an emphatic no, but Francis couldn’t halt the things spilling over, the self-depreciation, the whispers of don’t think it’s charm so much as he forces himself on everyone, all the little cruelties bubbling up like the bile he felt at the back of his throat.
“And if not that, maybe I would have slipped something into your drink? Put a knife to your neck? Do you think I find you more beautiful when you are bleeding and sobbing?” The image flickered across his mind for just a second, and he started shaking, stomach feeling like it was trying to crawl up his throat. “Wondering what else I’ve done, who else I’ve done it to? Just say so-”
“Francis.” His name was spoken barely above a whisper, but it was enough to get him to fall quiet because Matthew was standing right in front of him now, eyes steeled and unwavering despite the trembling of his bottom lip. “No. I never thought that you would-would force me. I just didn’t expect you to pull away so quickly. You seemed like you were really into touching me and I thought it would take a little more effort to get you to stop, but I…that’s not you. It’s not you, you would never…”
“I’m sorry.” Francis let out a short bark of dismissive laughter that sounded more like a sob. “I’m sorry, it is just…the remarks are normally something I brush off. There is nothing to them, but the thought of you believing such a thing, I couldn’t-”
“It’s okay.” Matthew cupped his cheeks before pulling him into an embrace, hold tight and protective. “It’s okay. I love you, and I trust you, and I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“Ah.” Francis let out a breath, finally relaxing enough to return the hug, arms wrapped loosely around Matthew’s waist. “I love you too, mon ange.”
“It was a misunderstanding.” Matthew ran his hand lightly down Francis’s spine, the touch gentle and soothing. It was then Francis realized that he was still trembling, very slightly, and that Matthew could feel it from how close they were pressed together. “But I didn’t mean to-I don’t think that of you.”
“I understand, Mathieu.” He tried a smile but it was still a little stiff, skin still crawling. “I overreacted.” The other made a face, lips pressed into a thin, dour line, a warning sign that Matthew was starting to get irritated, but instead of arguing the point, he shifted subjects.
“So, um, I take it neither of us are in the mood anymore. And you still seem kinda tense. We could take a nap and order room service later?”
“That sounds quite nice, actually.” He noted Matthew seemed rather pleased he had taken to the suggestion, and took a moment to slip his still-undone pants off completely before kicking them aside. Francis only undid his tie and belt before climbing into the hotel bed, not bothering to pull back the covers.
Matthew settled down next to him, smile bright as he reached out to run his fingers lightly through Francis’s hair. He smelled comforting, like wood smoke and honeysuckle, and just the faintest hint of something sweet. Leaning into it, Francis pressed his face against Matthew’s neck, kissing over one of the hickeys he left before.
“We’ll go slower next time.”
“Mmm?”
“Next time,” Matthew repeated. “For…uh, sex? I mean, you’re just very, um, good, and I’m not really used to feeling that way. It’s you, and I’ve just wanted this for so long…”
“I understand.” Francis chuckled a bit, throwing one arm over Matthew’s waist. “We have plenty of time together, after all. We can take things as slow as you’d like.”
“I know, Francis.” There was so much in those words, trust and promise and reassurance, enough that Francis was able to close his eyes, thoughts and body settling as sleep started to creep over him. “I know.”
A/N: The title was inspired by a very small bit of lyric from "Shelter" by The XX. That song, plus my firm, dig-in-heels interpretation that France is actually very hurt by the implication he would force anyone into having sex, was inspiration for this.
Author: Melly
Rating: MA
Characters/Pairings: France/Canada
Warnings: Language, talk and implications of sex, including talk about sex of the non-con variety. Nothing very explicit, but it’s there.
Summary: Francis is aware, to some degree, of his not-entirely-factual reputation, but it still hurts to know how much it has preceded him.
A/N: De-anon from the kink meme. Any/any, surprised when their partner takes “no” for an answer. This prompt really caught my interest, and I’ve wanted to do something like this for a long while. So, enjoy!
The giddy, new sheen to their relationship hadn’t quite worn off yet, and Francis wasn’t sure it ever would, since he suspected even centuries into the future, Matthew would still always greet him with that warm, sweet smile that never failed to make his heart jump, just a little bit. It was difficult to resist the urge to pull Matthew against him and kiss the other breathless when he could still picture very clearly the way the other stuttered over his confession, a jumble of French and English, je t-je-love you. I love you. Or, most of all, how it felt like a relief, like finally coming home, to hear it and say it in return.
But when they were alone, he could touch and kiss Matthew in any way he wanted, press him up against the door of the hotel room and hear him let out needy, breathy moans. Matthew had his hands tangled in Francis’s hair, thumbs brushing against the nape of his neck as Francis sucked at the pulse in his throat. His tie was already undone, both their suit jackets in rumpled heaps on the floor, and Francis dragged both his hands down Matthew’s torso, pausing to untuck his shirt when he got to the hem of the other’s slacks. Deftly, Francis undid the belt, the button, and pulled down the zipper before cupping Matthew through his boxers.
“O-oh, oh. Oh, God.” He shuddered, arching up off the door as Francis tightened his grip, squeezing and rubbing the heel of his hand along Matthew’s cock.
“Beautiful,” Francis murmured, tilting his head up for a kiss, deep and thorough, feeling Matthew-his lovely, wonderful, perfect Matthew-nearly melt against him.
But, the moment he eased his hand under the elastic of the other’s boxers, Matthew stilled, breath coming in quick, sharp intakes. The reaction was confusing, but it could have been out of surprise…
“Francis. Francis, stop-stop-” Immediately, he did as told, pulling his hand away and taking a short step back to give Matthew some room. He looked panicked, eyes wide and curling into himself a bit as he attempted to even out his breathing.
“Shh, cheri, what is the matter?” Francis reached out, thinking to pet Matthew’s hair or rub his shoulder for comfort, but he wasn’t sure if the other wanted to be touched, so he drew his hand back.
“I’m sorry. I just think it was too much too fast. I felt so lightheaded....” He ran a hand through his hair, gaze flicking upwards briefly. “You-you stopped.”
“No need to apologize for that. And yes. Of course I did.” The surprise on Matthew’s face might as well have been a kick to his sternum. “You believed otherwise? You really think that of me?”
“I thought…I thought you-”
“Don’t hesitate.” Francis’s eyes narrowed, and he was dimly aware of a sharp pain in his palm from where his nails were digging into the flesh, but he felt like he was going to be violently sick from the thought that Matthew, the person he loved, assumed he would have-merde. “Say what you think. Probably no worse than I have heard before. Did you think I would have tied you down? Forced you open and taken you while you begged me to stop?”
Matthew flinched like the words were a slap, shaking his head in an emphatic no, but Francis couldn’t halt the things spilling over, the self-depreciation, the whispers of don’t think it’s charm so much as he forces himself on everyone, all the little cruelties bubbling up like the bile he felt at the back of his throat.
“And if not that, maybe I would have slipped something into your drink? Put a knife to your neck? Do you think I find you more beautiful when you are bleeding and sobbing?” The image flickered across his mind for just a second, and he started shaking, stomach feeling like it was trying to crawl up his throat. “Wondering what else I’ve done, who else I’ve done it to? Just say so-”
“Francis.” His name was spoken barely above a whisper, but it was enough to get him to fall quiet because Matthew was standing right in front of him now, eyes steeled and unwavering despite the trembling of his bottom lip. “No. I never thought that you would-would force me. I just didn’t expect you to pull away so quickly. You seemed like you were really into touching me and I thought it would take a little more effort to get you to stop, but I…that’s not you. It’s not you, you would never…”
“I’m sorry.” Francis let out a short bark of dismissive laughter that sounded more like a sob. “I’m sorry, it is just…the remarks are normally something I brush off. There is nothing to them, but the thought of you believing such a thing, I couldn’t-”
“It’s okay.” Matthew cupped his cheeks before pulling him into an embrace, hold tight and protective. “It’s okay. I love you, and I trust you, and I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“Ah.” Francis let out a breath, finally relaxing enough to return the hug, arms wrapped loosely around Matthew’s waist. “I love you too, mon ange.”
“It was a misunderstanding.” Matthew ran his hand lightly down Francis’s spine, the touch gentle and soothing. It was then Francis realized that he was still trembling, very slightly, and that Matthew could feel it from how close they were pressed together. “But I didn’t mean to-I don’t think that of you.”
“I understand, Mathieu.” He tried a smile but it was still a little stiff, skin still crawling. “I overreacted.” The other made a face, lips pressed into a thin, dour line, a warning sign that Matthew was starting to get irritated, but instead of arguing the point, he shifted subjects.
“So, um, I take it neither of us are in the mood anymore. And you still seem kinda tense. We could take a nap and order room service later?”
“That sounds quite nice, actually.” He noted Matthew seemed rather pleased he had taken to the suggestion, and took a moment to slip his still-undone pants off completely before kicking them aside. Francis only undid his tie and belt before climbing into the hotel bed, not bothering to pull back the covers.
Matthew settled down next to him, smile bright as he reached out to run his fingers lightly through Francis’s hair. He smelled comforting, like wood smoke and honeysuckle, and just the faintest hint of something sweet. Leaning into it, Francis pressed his face against Matthew’s neck, kissing over one of the hickeys he left before.
“We’ll go slower next time.”
“Mmm?”
“Next time,” Matthew repeated. “For…uh, sex? I mean, you’re just very, um, good, and I’m not really used to feeling that way. It’s you, and I’ve just wanted this for so long…”
“I understand.” Francis chuckled a bit, throwing one arm over Matthew’s waist. “We have plenty of time together, after all. We can take things as slow as you’d like.”
“I know, Francis.” There was so much in those words, trust and promise and reassurance, enough that Francis was able to close his eyes, thoughts and body settling as sleep started to creep over him. “I know.”
A/N: The title was inspired by a very small bit of lyric from "Shelter" by The XX. That song, plus my firm, dig-in-heels interpretation that France is actually very hurt by the implication he would force anyone into having sex, was inspiration for this.