Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
Comments and Suggestions go here
Don't forget to link your new fill at the fill index over here.
Remember though that you need not post your updates unless you posted in a new part
Keep yourself up to date -- check out the NEWS HERE
“You said I should avoid speaking to the men, and I am,” Gallia reminded him, and the republic had to admit that was true, though he was obviously ignoring the general meaning of last night’s admonishment, probably on purpose.
“She is very pretty, and very wise,” he continued blithely. “She reminds me of my mother.”
“Your mother was far more beautiful,” Rome muttered, then immediately regretted it once he saw Gallia’s face.
“She was, wasn’t she?” Gallia emphasized the ‘was,’ as if he intended to never let Rome forget.
The republic stared at him warily, trying to discern this young barbarian’s true feelings, but there was nothing to read in the set of Gallia’s jaw, the curve of his brows, the blue of his eyes. In a bout of jealousy, jealousy that a mortal woman could so easily evoke Gallia’s admiration when he could not, Rome reached out to wipe at the rouge staining the boy’s lips with his thumb. Seeing that the color lingered, he drew Gallia closer and kissed him hard, breathing in a woman’s perfume all over his hair and skin. Somehow, the flowery scent did not anger him further, but stirred another feeling deep within him, even harder to control.
“You will have to tell me what she taught you, little bird,” Rome whispered, pleased to see the boy panting in his arms, lips wet and reddened though not so much from the cosmetic.
“B-but that’s a secret!” Gallia stammered, hitting Rome’s forearm in consternation.
Curiosity piqued, Rome smiled at him encouragingly. “Will I get to know this secret eventually?”
“Maybe…” Gallia answered, squirming uncomfortably against the metal and leather of Rome’s cuirass, which only made Rome even more impatient for night to fall.
Discovering them in this position, Germania frowned, but only said, “Get ready, time to march.”
They halted near dusk, and Rome pointed the far horizon out to Gallia, the line of which was almost lost against the dark purple color of the sky.
“Once we pass through the mountains, we will enter Gallia Cisalpina, beyond which lies Italia proper.”
Gallia suppressed a shudder upon hearing his mother’s name twisted again like that, and suddenly he wanted to escape from this powerful, irresistible nation, and have things as they were, before his mother was slain and he had to take on the burden of a broken people on his inexperienced shoulders. It was a vain and childish thought, because he had nothing to return to, and only Rome’s support, if one could call it that, could keep him from falling apart even further. Gallia bit his lower lip to keep the tears inside, and when he thought he could speak without betraying any emotion, he said, “It looks cold up there. Will we finally get to wear braccae?”
“What? Oh yes, of course. There would be no point in freezing our ba--- our extremities off.”
“Good. Because my legs are starting to chafe.”
Rome sighed. He personally considered wearing trousers extremely unmanly, but the legionnaires stationed around the Alpes had gotten accustomed to wearing Gaulish braccae against the cold weather, and Rome was anything but unreasonable when it came to a soldier’s comforts. A comfortable, well-fed soldier was an efficient and loyal one. For that matter, a comfortable and well-fed obnoxious young barbarian should hopefully become a less obnoxious one.
Hopefully.
[Sorry, it's taking me forever (haha) to finish this. I'll do my best to wrap things up in a reasonable amount of time. Thanks to everyone who's encouraged me to keep on keeping on.]
Reply
“I think you have scared all of the fish away with your splashing, Gallia,” Rome grumbled as he scooped him up, still squealing, and waded to the bank. Setting Gallia down, Rome picked up a cloak and dried him off brusquely, then sat back on his heels to look him over. Apparently, the boy was not ashamed of being seen nude, for the fiercest and most powerful Celtae warriors often went into battle unclothed in order to terrify their opponents, but he eventually quailed under Rome’s searching gaze, shutting his eyes out of nervousness. He only dared to look when he felt strong cool hands at his waist, to see Rome run callused fingers across his skin.
“I am so sorry, little bird,” Rome thought as he traced the star-shaped scar on Gallia’s stomach. He knew exactly what weapon would have left such a mark, because he was the one who thrust that spear into his mother’s belly, throwing her off her horse and sending her crashing to the ground. She had torn the spear out of her flesh and continued fighting, but she did not survive for long afterward, and at her demise, her bloody legacy passed onto her son’s own body.
Without thinking, Rome knelt down and kissed the boy’s scar, realizing he had already marked him as his own even before he thought of sending Germania to capture him. It was surprising Gallia had tolerated his advances this long, with a reminder like this branded on his skin.
Regardless, Rome planned to have him.
Feeling somewhat confused by this sudden attention, Gallia brought his hands up to clutch at Rome’s hair as the older nation nuzzled at his abdomen, pressing warm lips to his skin. He wound the dark, wet curls around his fingers, watching them spring back into place when he let go, while the other continued to map the boyish contours of his chest with his tongue.
It surprised Rome a little, the fact that Gallia was not responding to his caresses, not even when he gently sucked at a nipple and glanced up to see nothing more than mild interest in those sapphire eyes. Oh, he knew what was going on, Rome could tell, but he must have been utterly untouched to feel no excitement. Curious, the republic slid one hand up between Gallia’s long legs, approving of the way the muscles under his fingers tensed slightly, followed by a soft intake of breath.
“R-Rome… that tickles,” Gallia whined breathlessly as Rome fondled him and grinned at his discomfort. He tried to back away, but instead he tripped on the cloak that had fallen around his feet and landed on his bottom. That made Rome laugh, though he did not move to take advantage of the situation.
“Clothe yourself, Gallia,” he murmured, amused. “Wait for me, I will be with you in a few minutes.”
Climbing an oak tree a short distance away from the secluded river, Gallia settled onto a low branch and hummed to himself until Rome’s tall figure came into view. The younger nation slid off the branch into Rome’s waiting arms, allowing himself to be kissed again.
“What were you doing?” Gallia asked, naturally.
“You will find out soon, be patient,” Rome replied, satisfied despite the unexpected ending to their tryst. Even after minding the lieutenant’s wife and her advice, Gallia obviously did not yet feel much in the way of physical desire. So it would take a little more effort to coax him into enjoying the pleasures of the flesh, but Rome did not mind this delay. After all, there would be plenty of opportunities once they ascended the Alpes.
[Aaaaand I just lost any readers who may have been following this. ORZ]
Reply
Reply
Reply
Keep up the good work~!
Reply
“Little bird, I can not help you if you won’t tell me what is wrong,” he murmured into the boy’s ear. But Gallia said nothing, only writhed unhappily as Rome kissed his lips and throat, hands roaming shamelessly under his tunic, over slender limbs.
“Do you miss your land?” Rome asked carefully, ceasing his caresses for the moment. He had noticed that Gallia shied away from the stern presence of the Helvetii tribes, who were strange to him if not to his mother, to the point of riding with the carts that held the prisoners that hailed from true Gaul, taking what little comfort he could from their familiarity.
Almost imperceptibly, Gallia whispered, “Yes, a little.”
“Ah, I know how it feels, Gallia. It hurts in your chest, like something is pulling at your core, doesn’t it?” Encouraged by Gallia’s slight nod, Rome continued. “The pain will go away soon, it did for me when I first ventured far from my lands. But if it helps, why don’t you speak of your home to me? Your mother, your friends… your lovers?” he added teasingly.
Gallia could not help but giggle at that. “No, I didn’t have any lovers. But my mother, she had many. The best of the warriors and leaders, be they man or woman. She loved them all, and wept in secret when they were slain.”
Rome was very quiet for a while, mulling over this revelation. “I was not aware of that. She, ah… does not strike me as the type…” Perhaps if he had known, things might have turned out differently. Or perhaps not. Did Germania know, he mused. Did he guess how closely the Celtae tied love to death? The thought was frightening, and he was not easily scared, to love so deeply, to fight for love and never fear death. Rome began to wonder exactly what he had accomplished when he destroyed Gaul and took her son away.
“You have many lovers, too, don’t you?” Gallia eventually asked, his tone far more innocent than his words.
The republic laughed and kissed the boy’s downy cheek. “I sleep with whomever I wish, but I swear, I do not love them. Not as I love you, little bird.”
Now it was Gallia’s turn to be silent.
[Helvetii: old name for Switzerland. Sorry for the short chapter, might have to continue this in the next part.]
Reply
Reply
Uhh...I'm sorry I don't have a very constructive comment, but I think you're doing such a wonderful job with this fic; I look forward to reading it every time you update. That's all (:
ReCAPTCHA: "his foreplay"...uh. Well, I guess Gallia will grow up into France, after all :/
Reply
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/11813.html?thread=28695845#t28695845
Reply
Leave a comment