[fic] Everglow [America/France]
Title: Everglow
Author: etre_sans_age
Rating: NC-17
Characters: America/France
Warnings: smut, possibly traumatizing instances of
Wordcount: 1,225
Summary: for the prompt - Everyone knows all the “Eiffel Tower” and “Big Ben” jokes. So we got to wondering… does France have a big glowing cock, and that’s how he picks up women (and men)?
So yes, we want crack.... Everyone who didn’t know is scarred. Some of the others who did are still scarred, possibly with post-traumatic stress syndrome. - with minor edits.
[Obviously I didn't go with the situation outlined in the request, I went with romantic fluff plus a smattering of humor, though I did try to include references to the bonuses. My apologies in advance, but this had to be filled. Please enjoy (?) and thanks for reading!]
It is widely accepted among the nations of the world that America had a wonderful mouth. Streamlined for gobbling down junk food and slurping up milk shakes and spouting out nonsensical ideas at world meetings, he had no match. But less commonly known was how thoroughly France had taught him to use that mouth for other… things.
America is demonstrating those skills now, using the same energy and enthusiasm he put into a hot dog-eating contest with Japan that France and England had the misfortune to witness one fateful summer day. France quickly pushes that horrific mental image out of his mind and concentrates instead on the sight of America going down on him, golden hair all tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes scrunched up tightly in blissful concentration. Gently, he arcs his hips up, and encouraged, America hums and takes him in further, tongue pressing and sliding against his cock, his pink lips full and plump and wet from sucking. How fortunate that he got to the boy first, enlightening the young nation on the ways of sexual pleasure, even if it did take until the 20th century before America actually returned any of those numerous favors France had bestowed upon him. The memories bring a smile to France’s lips as he leans back among the pillows with a satisfied sigh.
Eventually, America stops, drawing back from France’s still hard erection, and France opens his eyes, curious as to the reason for this interruption.
“What is it, darling?” he asks fondly, if a little breathlessly.
“Oh my God, France, your penis… it’s… it’s glowing!”
Merde. He had forgotten about that.
America is staring at the luminescent cock before him, eyes owlishly wide, his expression the picture of horrified fascination.
“What the hell, France, that was in my mouth- mmph!”
“Hush, not so loud!” France scolds, sitting up and clapping his hand over America’s mouth. “Now calm down, there is nothing wrong with me or my vital regions.”
America promptly moves his head away to continue freaking out, albeit at a slightly lower volume. “No way! Are you sure this isn’t some new type of STD?!” America gasps and then whispers, “Is it… radioactive?!”
At least he had a reason, however unfounded, to be concerned about the radiation levels, since that meant he was keeping up with international news for once. But before France could explain that the nuclear plants in France are built to the latest safety standards, America interrupts him.
“It’s not contagious, is it?!” Although from the way he asks it, America sounds like he would not mind terribly if it were contagious.
“Not to my knowledge, no.” Certainly none of his partners ever mentioned their genitals sparkling in the darkness like a miniature city after a fantastic night of mind-blowing sex with the nation of love. “Trust me, this is not a disease or injury or side effect of radiation, mon chou, sometimes my penis just… adds another meaning to the term ‘afterglow.’”
“How long has this been going on, this cock lighting business?” America demands, finally coming to terms with the fact that France’s prick emitted enough photons to possibly read a book by.
Lying back on the bed, France closes his eyes and thinks to the first time he discovered this physiological idiosyncrasy. “Ah, how could I forget? It has been a long time… since 1889, to be exact.”
The year apparently sounds familiar to America, even though he cannot place it, and so France explains, “Yes, since the Exposition. Since the Eiffel Tower first exhibited.”
“Whoa…” America stares at the merrily glowing cock, still erect, and brushes a curious finger against the length. “It’s… actually cool. And kind of pretty.” Entranced by the warm pinpoints of light, he wraps his hand around the organ, momentarily blocking the glow and casting a pattern of shadows throughout the bedroom.
“Please, America, do try to concentrate…” France murmurs meaningfully, and America laughs and apologizes. Getting to his knees, he settles in between France’s spread legs, his own neglected cock already dripping in anticipation.
“You still good?” he whispers, and France shudders, delighted.
“Oui, yes, I am ready.”
In one plunging stroke, America pushes into him, a little too fast and rough to be perfectly comfortable, but that is how France likes it. France lets out a loud moan, hands gripping the sheets while America grabs his hips and begins to move.
“God, France, you feel incredible, so, so fucking amazing,” America grunts between each exuberant thrust, and France replies with his body, teasing, tightening, pulling the other nation deeper and closer until their bodies are pressed together, hot and slick and desperate for more. Their hands clasp momentarily, mouths crashing together when America comes, body convulsing mightily, seconds before France follows him. Even after their orgasm fades, they remain joined, breaths mixing as they drowse in each other’s embrace.
America then buries his nose into the crook of France’s neck with a happy sigh.
“You know, France, I always thought you were an alien.”
“Pardon me?” France asks, raising an eyebrow.
“An alien. Cuz you are full of weird surprises.”
“I am one of a kind, that is true.”
“Which star did you come from, huh?” America mumbles sleepily. “B-6-12, am I right?”
Despite himself, France smiles and kisses America on the cheek. “Go to sleep, America.”
“Nooo,” he whines, although he is having trouble keeping his eyes open. “No, your cock isn’t glowing anymore. Wanna see it… light up again…”
“You will have your chance tomorrow, in the morning, and as many times as you want.” Since America could definitely use a little more of the “French diet” these days.
“Promise?”
“I promise. Now sleep, darling.”
America surprises him the next morning by making good on that promise, although he looks somewhat disappointed to see that the Eiffel Tower did not glow as impressively in the daytime.
“Does anyone else know about it? You know, the glowing dick thing?” America asks during breakfast, as if this were a completely normal subject of conversation.
“Some of us do, yes.” And were still trying to forget such a traumatic experience through copious amounts of beer or vodka or gin or alcoholic drink of choice. “But very few have seen it in… action, if you will.”
“Why’s that? The Eiffel Tower is lit every night, yeah?”
“I don’t really know,” France admits, shrugging elegantly as he sets his cup of coffee down. “I guess I have to be in the right frame of mind.”
“Like some sort of mood lighting?” America suggests jokingly.
France chuckles and nods, though he is closer to the truth than he guesses. But he will let America find out for himself, there is no need to tell him every French secret.
America finishes off the last of the toast and licks his powder-sugared lips thoughtfully.
“You don’t know if England’s penis tolls the hours, do you? Or if North Italy’s leans a little? I mean, this could be huge! Who knows what my wang can do now?”
“Well…” France purrs, “why don’t we find out?”
“Yeah, we should! In the name of science! Science rules!”
America knocks over his chair in his enthusiasm, and pulls a laughing France up out of his seat as well.
“C’mon, France, we’ve got to start observing and taking notes and stuff! Do you have a video camera?”
[notes: B612 is the name of an asteroid where a little prince lives... I thought America would at least know that of France.]
Author: etre_sans_age
Rating: NC-17
Characters: America/France
Warnings: smut, possibly traumatizing instances of
Wordcount: 1,225
Summary: for the prompt - Everyone knows all the “Eiffel Tower” and “Big Ben” jokes. So we got to wondering… does France have a big glowing cock, and that’s how he picks up women (and men)?
So yes, we want crack.... Everyone who didn’t know is scarred. Some of the others who did are still scarred, possibly with post-traumatic stress syndrome. - with minor edits.
[Obviously I didn't go with the situation outlined in the request, I went with romantic fluff plus a smattering of humor, though I did try to include references to the bonuses. My apologies in advance, but this had to be filled. Please enjoy (?) and thanks for reading!]
It is widely accepted among the nations of the world that America had a wonderful mouth. Streamlined for gobbling down junk food and slurping up milk shakes and spouting out nonsensical ideas at world meetings, he had no match. But less commonly known was how thoroughly France had taught him to use that mouth for other… things.
America is demonstrating those skills now, using the same energy and enthusiasm he put into a hot dog-eating contest with Japan that France and England had the misfortune to witness one fateful summer day. France quickly pushes that horrific mental image out of his mind and concentrates instead on the sight of America going down on him, golden hair all tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes scrunched up tightly in blissful concentration. Gently, he arcs his hips up, and encouraged, America hums and takes him in further, tongue pressing and sliding against his cock, his pink lips full and plump and wet from sucking. How fortunate that he got to the boy first, enlightening the young nation on the ways of sexual pleasure, even if it did take until the 20th century before America actually returned any of those numerous favors France had bestowed upon him. The memories bring a smile to France’s lips as he leans back among the pillows with a satisfied sigh.
Eventually, America stops, drawing back from France’s still hard erection, and France opens his eyes, curious as to the reason for this interruption.
“What is it, darling?” he asks fondly, if a little breathlessly.
“Oh my God, France, your penis… it’s… it’s glowing!”
Merde. He had forgotten about that.
America is staring at the luminescent cock before him, eyes owlishly wide, his expression the picture of horrified fascination.
“What the hell, France, that was in my mouth- mmph!”
“Hush, not so loud!” France scolds, sitting up and clapping his hand over America’s mouth. “Now calm down, there is nothing wrong with me or my vital regions.”
America promptly moves his head away to continue freaking out, albeit at a slightly lower volume. “No way! Are you sure this isn’t some new type of STD?!” America gasps and then whispers, “Is it… radioactive?!”
At least he had a reason, however unfounded, to be concerned about the radiation levels, since that meant he was keeping up with international news for once. But before France could explain that the nuclear plants in France are built to the latest safety standards, America interrupts him.
“It’s not contagious, is it?!” Although from the way he asks it, America sounds like he would not mind terribly if it were contagious.
“Not to my knowledge, no.” Certainly none of his partners ever mentioned their genitals sparkling in the darkness like a miniature city after a fantastic night of mind-blowing sex with the nation of love. “Trust me, this is not a disease or injury or side effect of radiation, mon chou, sometimes my penis just… adds another meaning to the term ‘afterglow.’”
“How long has this been going on, this cock lighting business?” America demands, finally coming to terms with the fact that France’s prick emitted enough photons to possibly read a book by.
Lying back on the bed, France closes his eyes and thinks to the first time he discovered this physiological idiosyncrasy. “Ah, how could I forget? It has been a long time… since 1889, to be exact.”
The year apparently sounds familiar to America, even though he cannot place it, and so France explains, “Yes, since the Exposition. Since the Eiffel Tower first exhibited.”
“Whoa…” America stares at the merrily glowing cock, still erect, and brushes a curious finger against the length. “It’s… actually cool. And kind of pretty.” Entranced by the warm pinpoints of light, he wraps his hand around the organ, momentarily blocking the glow and casting a pattern of shadows throughout the bedroom.
“Please, America, do try to concentrate…” France murmurs meaningfully, and America laughs and apologizes. Getting to his knees, he settles in between France’s spread legs, his own neglected cock already dripping in anticipation.
“You still good?” he whispers, and France shudders, delighted.
“Oui, yes, I am ready.”
In one plunging stroke, America pushes into him, a little too fast and rough to be perfectly comfortable, but that is how France likes it. France lets out a loud moan, hands gripping the sheets while America grabs his hips and begins to move.
“God, France, you feel incredible, so, so fucking amazing,” America grunts between each exuberant thrust, and France replies with his body, teasing, tightening, pulling the other nation deeper and closer until their bodies are pressed together, hot and slick and desperate for more. Their hands clasp momentarily, mouths crashing together when America comes, body convulsing mightily, seconds before France follows him. Even after their orgasm fades, they remain joined, breaths mixing as they drowse in each other’s embrace.
America then buries his nose into the crook of France’s neck with a happy sigh.
“You know, France, I always thought you were an alien.”
“Pardon me?” France asks, raising an eyebrow.
“An alien. Cuz you are full of weird surprises.”
“I am one of a kind, that is true.”
“Which star did you come from, huh?” America mumbles sleepily. “B-6-12, am I right?”
Despite himself, France smiles and kisses America on the cheek. “Go to sleep, America.”
“Nooo,” he whines, although he is having trouble keeping his eyes open. “No, your cock isn’t glowing anymore. Wanna see it… light up again…”
“You will have your chance tomorrow, in the morning, and as many times as you want.” Since America could definitely use a little more of the “French diet” these days.
“Promise?”
“I promise. Now sleep, darling.”
America surprises him the next morning by making good on that promise, although he looks somewhat disappointed to see that the Eiffel Tower did not glow as impressively in the daytime.
“Does anyone else know about it? You know, the glowing dick thing?” America asks during breakfast, as if this were a completely normal subject of conversation.
“Some of us do, yes.” And were still trying to forget such a traumatic experience through copious amounts of beer or vodka or gin or alcoholic drink of choice. “But very few have seen it in… action, if you will.”
“Why’s that? The Eiffel Tower is lit every night, yeah?”
“I don’t really know,” France admits, shrugging elegantly as he sets his cup of coffee down. “I guess I have to be in the right frame of mind.”
“Like some sort of mood lighting?” America suggests jokingly.
France chuckles and nods, though he is closer to the truth than he guesses. But he will let America find out for himself, there is no need to tell him every French secret.
America finishes off the last of the toast and licks his powder-sugared lips thoughtfully.
“You don’t know if England’s penis tolls the hours, do you? Or if North Italy’s leans a little? I mean, this could be huge! Who knows what my wang can do now?”
“Well…” France purrs, “why don’t we find out?”
“Yeah, we should! In the name of science! Science rules!”
America knocks over his chair in his enthusiasm, and pulls a laughing France up out of his seat as well.
“C’mon, France, we’ve got to start observing and taking notes and stuff! Do you have a video camera?”
[notes: B612 is the name of an asteroid where a little prince lives... I thought America would at least know that of France.]