Luciole [part 2/??]
anonymous
November 23 2009, 02:42:56 UTC
Taiwan must accept his offer, not wanting to seem weak in front of him, and so she sits on the edge of an armchair while he rummages around for the shoe. Sweeping over to her, France gracefully kneels and to her surprise, takes off her sandal and slips the shoe on, as if she were a fairytale princess and he the prince.
“Parfait,” he murmurs, lifting her foot up towards his mouth and pressing dry warm lips against the bared skin there.
Now Taiwan tries to kick at him, but he is stronger, and she squeaks helplessly when he lets go of her foot and moves up to kiss her hand with that same light touch.
“You are a very strong young woman. I admire that,” France says simply, and she can tell he is not lying.
“Thank you. Now, please, let go.” Taiwan presses her free hand up to her mouth, trying desperately to hide her blush at his continued caresses of her fingers, and he grins and releases her. Watching her put her sandal back on, France observes her expressions carefully, memorizing every detail of her face and body and gesture, as if to impress them over the memory of another girl. The fact that Taiwan attacked him without provocation looks bad, but she has not actually refused his obvious advances. She could have easily bought another pair of shoes, when all is said and done.
He decides to press his luck.
Seemingly out of nowhere, France invites her to meet him for ice cream after the meeting tomorrow, and Taiwan dithers a bit before she agrees, senses almost dazzled by the unchecked force of his charm. While France may be a pushover in some areas, he is remarkably stubborn in other aspects, she realizes. But she is certainly not going to pass up free ice cream.
Taiwan nearly forgets her shoe, so flustered by his attentions, and that does not escape France’s notice.
It turns out to be gelato, not just any ice cream, and Taiwan tries to act casual about the prospect of eating something so decadent. But she can barely keep in her excitement as she picks out her favorite flavors, chocolate hazelnut and coconut, and the server hands her a large waffle cone heavy with the dessert. France pays for their gelato and they sit together in a booth, savoring the rich, creamy flavors melting on their tongue.
They were eating for only a few minutes before France drapes an arm around her shoulders, and she frowns in warning.
“Don’t you dare think of kissing me in public.”
“What makes you think I want to kiss you?” he murmurs, and then leans over and takes a bite out of her cone. Taiwan makes a sound of protest and bops him on the head, but it is too late. France is licking his chocolate-covered lips like a very smug cat.
“B-buy me another one!” Taiwan demands, but France refuses, and not wanting to waste it, she ends up eating the rest of her now tainted gelato. Before they leave, he does buy another cup of gelato, and they share it as they walk back to their hotel.
The two of them talk of various subjects, nothing too serious - food, fashion, movies, more food. She is impressed by his knowledge and sophistication, for she has come into power only recently, and he knows so much that she does not. Yet he takes great pains to make her feel comfortable, so attentive and friendly.
Taiwan is almost disappointed when they reach her floor. Of course, France invites her to his room, she declines his offer, and he sighs dramatically.
“I would like to improve our relations,” Taiwan says with a smile, “but that was just gelato. Shouldn’t you at least take me out to dinner first?”
“How about dinner tomorrow?” France asks, jumping on that opportunity.
He does not avoid her kick to his shins in time and limps away to his room in mock injury.
Luciole [part 3/??]
anonymous
November 23 2009, 02:43:56 UTC
The next day, during their break, Taiwan quietly asks him if he has any plans for the evening. France says he is free for the night, and she nods in approval, which makes him smile like a fool for the rest of the meeting.
So he is not surprised to hear a knock on his door at six thirty in the evening, and opens it warily.
“Are you ready yet?” she asks cheerfully.
“Oui,” he replies, slipping out and closing the door behind him. France has a freshly cut peony flower in hand, and as she grins nervously, he tucks it into her hair, which has been prettily curled and arranged, though a stray curl of hair continues to bob in front of her face, reminding him of his Canada.
“You look très merveilleux, Taiwan,” he whispers into her ear, and she blushes, feeling self-conscious in the fitted pink and gold cheongsam she had decided to wear.
“Thank you. Y-you look very stylish, too.” And he does, as polished as usual in a black and cream pinstriped three piece suit, a bronze-colored scarf knotted at his throat in a loose cravat. Taiwan has a sudden impression they might even look good together, despite their physical differences, and that random thought throws her off even more.
“We better hurry,” she says at last, grabbing his hand and heading towards the elevator. France chuckles to himself, amused by the idea that a girl is taking him out on a date. He wonders if tomorrow England will be polite to him.
Tonight they dine at a trendy, highly-rated Asian fusion restaurant. Neither of them were sure what the term meant, hoping it was not yet another American culinary experiment that had somehow become popular. They try a bit of everything on the menu, from tempura sushi to curry rice to fresh spring rolls to spicy pad thai, before reaching a consensus that maybe it would have been better to stick to cuisine from one country. France orders inexplicably girly drinks for them both, flirtinis and white Russians, and the conversation is easy, rambling about their hobbies, wine and dancing and Korean dramas, which they both like.
Taiwan insists on paying, as a proper Asian hostess would do, but of course he would not hear of it. They argue over the check for a few minutes, neither one giving in, and she finally solves it by dashing to the cashier to pay for them both.
“What do you want to do now?” France asks as they finish their drinks.
“I don’t know… Maybe we can find a karaoke bar? Do you like to karaoke?”
He laughs and shakes his head no. “Ma cherie, I don’t sing in public.”
“Oh, we’ll just reserve a room for ourselves if you are that shy,” she teases, poking him on the side.
“I am not shy!” France protests, his masculinity at stake. The truth is, he does not sing to just anyone, only people he likes. Granted, that could be almost anyone, but he feels like he has to make that distinction regardless. He has some standards.
“Come on, it will be fun,” Taiwan wheedles, and he allows himself to be dragged to a karaoke bar nearby, where a private room had conveniently opened for their use.
France does not know most of the songs, and ends up singing Beatles and Frank Sinatra, to her endless entertainment. Taiwan knows more of the current hits than he does, and goes all out when she takes up the microphone, even convincing him to get up and dance with her. They dance to both the fast and slow songs, and she likes how he moves with her, so unlike her reserved brothers, although their hands are occupied with holding the microphones instead of each other. The hour is over too soon for them both, but it had been worth it.
Luciole [part 4/??]
anonymous
November 23 2009, 02:45:18 UTC
He hails a taxi for them, not trusting their legs to stay steady after their indulgence, and he wraps his jacket around her shoulders. Basking in his warmth and scent, she curls up next to him in the backseat, planning to only rest her eyes for a few minutes.
When Taiwan next wakes up, she is lying on a couch, and she sits up and looks around her in alarm.
“I did not know where your room was, Taiwan, so I brought you to mine.” France is sitting on his bed, his expression oddly tender as he watches her by the flickering candlelight.
“O-oh…” She tries to calm her racing heart, and asks, “Why didn’t you wake me up? Did you carry me all the way here?”
“You would not wake up, and were clinging to me too tightly. So cute,” he adds, grinning.
“Aiya, I don’t believe you!” Taiwan grumbles as she takes off his jacket.
France waves a hand dismissively at her apologies for the wrinkles, and she huffs, noticing the peony flower had fallen out of her hair and onto the carpet.
“Were you watching me sleep the whole time, France?”
“It was only fifteen minutes, and I kept my hands to myself. You see, I can be a gentleman.”
Raising an eyebrow at him, she finds her shoes and puts them on, and then wobbles as she gets to her feet. He surges up and grabs her arm just in time, which actually causes her to nearly fall onto him. Taiwan looks up into his eyes, sleepy and disheveled from her nap, and he can not stop himself from leaning down and kissing her on the lips.
At first she freezes, too stunned to respond, then she sputters and pulls back.
They stare at each other, and Taiwan is aware of his hand at the small of her back, her body pressed close against his larger frame. She does not pull away when he lifts her chin and kisses her again, and this time, she tentatively parts her lips, trembling as he gently slides his tongue across her lips, her teeth and against her tongue. This time she even places an arm around his neck, though her other hand is clenched into a fist against his chest. He continues his exploration, methodically sensual, and she feels herself melting in his heat. When they part, she almost misses that sun-like radiance.
“S-so… that was a French kiss?” she asks stupidly, and he nods.
“Would you like to learn more, hmm?” he murmurs, and she turns bright red at the suggestion. But she does not say no, and France knows he has finally caught his butterfly.
Luciole [part 5/??]
anonymous
December 5 2009, 23:20:05 UTC
“Now then, what should I teach you?”
“…Anything you want to… please,” she answers.
While he does not say anything, France’s expression reveals what he is thinking, and Taiwan stammers, “I-I’m not completely inexperienced, I just… hear things…”
He puts a finger to her lips to shush her and says, “I understand.” France has seen this reaction before, from young men and women whose real life experiences have yet to match up to their fantasies, and he had the unsurpassed enjoyment of helping these unfortunate souls find the physical pleasure that they sought. It was his gift to the world, after all, as the nation of love, and a task he undertook with great seriousness.
“Let us start slowly, then, and we shall go from there,” he whispers, bringing her hands up to his chest, over his heart, so that she could feel its beat. Taiwan closes her eyes, and lets the slow steady rhythm calm and lull her into a state of relaxation.
France suppresses a shudder of excitement when he feels small fingers curiously unbutton his vest and shirt, grateful for the fact that he would not have to coax her, at least not much. But Taiwan can not help but make an exclamation of surprise as her knuckles brush across the hair on his chest, and he laughs at her naiveté.
“S-sorry! I should have - I mean, Vietnam did say…”
“Say what, love?”
“She said that you were hairy,” Taiwan whispers, barely audible.
“Did she now…,” France murmurs, trying hard to not laugh. “May I ask what else she says of me?”
“That you are also… err… fat.”
France does not let a horrified grimace ruin the romantic mood, so instead he clears his throat and muses, “Ah, that is just her secret way of praising my rugged masculine body and raw animal sexuality.”
“That must be it. Though… I would like to confirm all of that first-hand, if you do not mind.” Another dazzling smile, amusement and mischief sparkling in her dark eyes, and France has to thank the saints for his good luck tonight.
They share another long kiss, slow and deep and passionate, the kind of gesture that lovers share, the lovers they could never be.
Then France helpfully pulls out the hairpins that hold her hair in place, letting the smooth locks tumble down around her shoulders. After she unzips her dress with trembling hands, he slides the silk brocade off of her slender body, and it falls to the ground with a whispering sound. Feeling exposed, Taiwan shivers and wraps her arms about herself, and France picks her up and sets her gently on his bed before shucking off the last of his clothing.
[lol, sorry for being so overly romantic and cheesy...]
oh shit I am so sorry I'm late!!! Jesus I'm sorry But I thank you from the bottom of my heart for filling this request!! I love you and I'm sorry! I would gladly become your sex slave to make up for it!!
Luciole [part 6/??]
anonymous
December 8 2009, 06:28:24 UTC
In the light of small fragrant candles floating in bowls of water, she watches as he cradles her tiny bare feet in his hands, bringing one foot up to his cheek, covering first one then the other with delicate kisses. France moves confidently up her body, caressing her legs and thighs with his lips and fingers, yet she feels no shyness at this intimacy. By the time he kisses her on the lips, Taiwan eagerly returns the gesture, running her fingers through wavy hair, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, feeling the stubble on his chin against her own skin. Then his fingers undo her bra, and his hands are fondling her dainty breasts, and she blushes, though not of embarrassment.
France watches her carefully, but her eyes are fluttering closed and her lips are parted in a calm half-smile, so he assumes that she has no objections. He ducks down and applies his mouth to one rosy nipple, licking it firmly and smiling to hear her gasp of delight. His tongue traces circles around the nipple, massaging the silky skin with expert motions, and at last he gives into the temptation and sucks, rolling the flesh in between his teeth. When he moves to repeat the process on the other breast, she breathes a soft shuddering “oh” that goes straight to his groin.
Reaching down between her legs, he feels warm moistness through the silk of her underwear and smiles in triumph. Not wasting any more time, France rolls the panties down and off her legs, brings them up to his mouth and takes in a deep breath of her scent before tossing the garment aside. Now she is completely open to him, large brown eyes almost unfocussed from the intensity of her arousal, and he rubs soothing circles on her inner thighs with his thumbs before parting them and pressing his lips to the wetness awaiting him there.
Taiwan shudders when France touches his tongue to her vital regions, sending white-hot sparks running up her spine. She pants and keens helplessly as he continues teasing, knowing exactly how to lick and rub that tiny nub of sensitive flesh to give the most pleasure. Then France gently crooks a finger into her at the same time, just a shallow, exploratory motion, anticipating that same snug heat around his own hardening length. Only a few more minutes and then she climaxes with a satisfied gasp, muscles still tensing and convulsing as he continues to stroke her with his fingers, drawing out the feeling for as long as possible.
Sitting up, France licks the tips of his fingers thoughtfully, watching Taiwan as she eventually stills from the aftershock of her orgasm, catching her breath at last. She opens her eyes and gazes up at him, a blissful smile curving her lips.
There is no denying, it was good, better than anything she had ever experienced, but she is no virgin, and she knows he is holding back quite a bit, if the other nations’ off-hand comments are to be believed. “Is that all?” she asks, with a touch of faux innocence in her voice.
He snorts in amusement. “I was not sure if you wanted more, mon petit. Perhaps I might be too much for you to handle.”
She replies by shoving her foot into his chest, making him grunt slightly. “Oh, I think I can handle you, believe me.”
“If you say so. But time flies, dear Taiwan, and I must wrap up this lesson soon.”
Luciole [part 7/??]
anonymous
December 8 2009, 06:29:07 UTC
Chuckling to himself, France reaches over to the bedside table, but Taiwan grabs his wrist and kisses him instead. And before he could recover, she is already touching his aching cock with her doll-like hand, drawing him towards her eagerly, and he nearly chokes at the sensation.
“I want you, all of you… now, France, please, please,” she whispers, voice throbbing in need, and he can not resist her pleas. Holding her soft thighs apart, he gently nudges into her, almost hissing at how tight she is, pauses to let her body adjust to his size, then slides in slowly, trembling from having to restrain his desires. His patience is rewarded because she accepts him without hesitation, and so he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace and strength of his thrusts until they are both unable to stifle their moans.
He glances down once, and Taiwan happens to be looking up at the same time, and her beautiful black tresses lie tangled over the pillow and her eyelashes are long and wet and her expression is so sweet and trusting and adoring. France knows that look, has seen it before on the faces of his girls, and his heart aches unexpectedly. But then she arcs up with an ecstatic cry, rolling her hips in a fantastic manner, and the feeling of something like regret is promptly replaced with a far more pleasant one as he comes, uttering a soft contented groan.
As soon as his mind recovers from the wonderful blankness, he exhales deeply and lowers himself onto an elbow, hovering carefully over Taiwan, still drifting down from her peak. She croons something in Chinese as she wraps her arms about him tightly and buries her face into his silky gold hair, trying to remember every detail of this glow suffusing her body. It occurs to her in the few nanoseconds before France resumes peppering her face and throat with kisses that she actually did not learn anything in particular. But perhaps the experience of making love without awkwardness or discomfort or pages and pages of treaties to sign, with someone who definitely knew what he was doing… maybe that was what she really wanted.
They want to stay like this, safe in each other’s arms, but it is impossible. She has to get up and dress and get back to her room, all without anyone noticing exactly whose room she had come from. Smiling weakly, Taiwan tells him it will be no problem, for she is a master of stealth, and he has no choice but to trust her.
“Thank you, France, my charming teacher,” she breathes, even as he murmurs his appreciation at the same time. They laugh softly, kiss once more, and then she darts into the hallway on noiseless feet, a firefly dancing away into the dark of night.
He only sees her once more before the conference ends, and blows a kiss towards her that China mistakes as one meant for him. She waves back merrily as China stomps away and that is that. He does not call, and she knows better than to press the matter. Things go back to normal.
*LE GASP* I'm not too late?! Oh my god, please continue! I love you so much right now!!! God, I can't even begin to explain how much I love you!! eeeeee!!! Let me read this fic again and masturbate to it for the tenth time!!! *fangasming right now*
Luciole [part 8/??]
anonymous
December 9 2009, 22:59:37 UTC
It isn’t long before Taiwan notices something feels wrong with her body. Eight weeks later, and she can not deny the significance of her symptoms, the nausea and weight gain and mood swings and bizarre food cravings. She has been around long enough to know that nations simply do not beget other nations like humans do, so she confirms her state, several times, before making the dreaded call.
“France, if you get this message, please, please, come see me as soon as you can, I’m sorry to bother you, but it is important, and I need to talk to you. Goodbye.”
Then, and only then, Taiwan starts to cry.
He does come to Taiwan, almost immediately after he checked his voice messages and requested a vacation from his boss, and the worry he feels only increases during the taxi ride to her home in the outskirts of Taipei. When France knocks on the door, calling out Taiwan’s name softly, she flies out and throws her arms about him.
“Ma cherie, what is the problem? How can I help you?”
Through tears and sniffles, Taiwan reveals that she is possibly, most likely, pregnant with his child. France blinks and gapes at her in confusion, starts to say something, shuts his mouth, and starts again.
“I do not want to doubt a woman’s intuition, but this sort of thing is… it is impossible, Taiwan.”
“Well, I didn’t want it to happen either!” she snaps back heatedly. Taking a deep shuddering breath, she continues, “But… let us say that I really am pregnant. What do we do?”
“The first thing we are going to do… is sit down and get something to drink and eat.”
France steers her carefully towards the kitchen, and he makes her sit at the table, quickly brewing some tea and finding some biscuits to eat. Finally, Taiwan seems to have calmed down and France gently broaches the subject again.
“What do you want to do?”
“I… can’t keep the baby,” Taiwan murmurs. “I am too young, I would make a terrible mother, I just… can’t do it.”
“And… the other options?”
She stares at him and then shakes her head miserably, wringing her hands within her sleeves. “I am even more afraid.”
“Then don’t even think of it,” France whispers, reaching out to pat her soothingly on her back. “I am here now, dearest, and I will help you and the baby. You are not alone.”
“Honestly, I would have never expected it of you,” Taiwan says at last, smiling slightly.
“Ah, I even surprise myself sometimes.” France sighs, and then declares that their child will at least be incredibly good looking, to her amusement.
That night, France stays with her instead of at a hotel, and she is grateful for his comforting presence in her bed. Taiwan watches him doze off as she gradually tries to relax, her mind too full of racing thoughts for her to fall asleep right away.
“Hmm?” France mumbles, blinking sleepily. “Are you still awake, Taiwan?”
“Ah, I am sorry, I can’t stop worrying. A-am I keeping you up?”
He yawns and stretches, then winks at her suggestively. “Yes, but now that I am awake, I feel obliged to help you relax before I can go back to sleep.”
“You are so considerate, France,” she whispers back, before he leans over and kisses her tenderly.
Luciole [part 9/9]
anonymous
December 9 2009, 23:11:21 UTC
With France’s help, Taiwan attempts to put her life into order, taking things one step at a time. The worst part was informing her older brother of her pregnancy, and China is stunned by the news, showing only a brief flare of anger at France - the intruder, the traitor - before retreating back into a state of polite disbelief. China senses that the pregnancy was unexpected, yet he fears that this partnership, despite its outward innocence, could result in even more unrest between him and Taiwan. However, Taiwan tells him that he would be an uncle soon, and he mulls over that thought, slightly mollified.
“Aiyaa… you know how my leaders would feel about this, mei-mei. But… as your brother, I am happy for you.”
“Thank you, brother.”
Japan and Korea look thunderstruck when they are told some weeks later, and Vietnam is noticeably torn between delight for her sister and fury at France, of whom she could believe anything terrible. After a brief awkward silence, they suddenly ply Taiwan with questions, how long before she is due, what will she name the child, etcetera, and she laughs nervously and tries her best to answer them. At her side, France squeezes her fingers gently, and she soldiers on, accepting their well-wishes with solemn grace, promises them news as often as she could.
Even though it is supposed to be unofficial, France still buys her a ring, white gold with an array of tiny sparkling diamonds. It is prettier than the arms he once promised to her government, Taiwan decides, and she kisses his cheek in thanks.
The implications of their closeness do not go unnoticed at the next conference, and Holland and England decide that they will beat up France later, so as to not disturb Taiwan’s delicate constitution.
But it is when elderly grandmothers and independent young women alike smile at her on the streets and wish her the best with her pregnancy, that she realizes how much a small part of her misses the sound of a baby’s laughter, a lover’s arms around her, all that could help fill up the emptiness she created in her struggle to overcome her status as a nation-state and prove her worth on the world stage. She had not expected to be a mother, yet it was not unwanted. When she tells France this later, he looks at her affectionately.
“Love has a way of teaching us what we do not want to know, but should.”
“...Do you know how obnoxious you sound when you are right?”
[Sorry for the lame ending, I had no more ideas. But I hope you enjoyed it, my first time writing an Asian or het, so I probably bumbled a lot. Taiwan is not officially recognized as a nation by France (or nearly any European country), but the two do have a fairly significant history of unofficial economic and culture ties. The final paragraphs were based on the recent article on Taiwan's low birthrate, which is the lowest in the world.]
“Parfait,” he murmurs, lifting her foot up towards his mouth and pressing dry warm lips against the bared skin there.
Now Taiwan tries to kick at him, but he is stronger, and she squeaks helplessly when he lets go of her foot and moves up to kiss her hand with that same light touch.
“You are a very strong young woman. I admire that,” France says simply, and she can tell he is not lying.
“Thank you. Now, please, let go.” Taiwan presses her free hand up to her mouth, trying desperately to hide her blush at his continued caresses of her fingers, and he grins and releases her. Watching her put her sandal back on, France observes her expressions carefully, memorizing every detail of her face and body and gesture, as if to impress them over the memory of another girl. The fact that Taiwan attacked him without provocation looks bad, but she has not actually refused his obvious advances. She could have easily bought another pair of shoes, when all is said and done.
He decides to press his luck.
Seemingly out of nowhere, France invites her to meet him for ice cream after the meeting tomorrow, and Taiwan dithers a bit before she agrees, senses almost dazzled by the unchecked force of his charm. While France may be a pushover in some areas, he is remarkably stubborn in other aspects, she realizes. But she is certainly not going to pass up free ice cream.
Taiwan nearly forgets her shoe, so flustered by his attentions, and that does not escape France’s notice.
It turns out to be gelato, not just any ice cream, and Taiwan tries to act casual about the prospect of eating something so decadent. But she can barely keep in her excitement as she picks out her favorite flavors, chocolate hazelnut and coconut, and the server hands her a large waffle cone heavy with the dessert. France pays for their gelato and they sit together in a booth, savoring the rich, creamy flavors melting on their tongue.
They were eating for only a few minutes before France drapes an arm around her shoulders, and she frowns in warning.
“Don’t you dare think of kissing me in public.”
“What makes you think I want to kiss you?” he murmurs, and then leans over and takes a bite out of her cone. Taiwan makes a sound of protest and bops him on the head, but it is too late. France is licking his chocolate-covered lips like a very smug cat.
“B-buy me another one!” Taiwan demands, but France refuses, and not wanting to waste it, she ends up eating the rest of her now tainted gelato. Before they leave, he does buy another cup of gelato, and they share it as they walk back to their hotel.
The two of them talk of various subjects, nothing too serious - food, fashion, movies, more food. She is impressed by his knowledge and sophistication, for she has come into power only recently, and he knows so much that she does not. Yet he takes great pains to make her feel comfortable, so attentive and friendly.
Taiwan is almost disappointed when they reach her floor. Of course, France invites her to his room, she declines his offer, and he sighs dramatically.
“I would like to improve our relations,” Taiwan says with a smile, “but that was just gelato. Shouldn’t you at least take me out to dinner first?”
“How about dinner tomorrow?” France asks, jumping on that opportunity.
He does not avoid her kick to his shins in time and limps away to his room in mock injury.
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So he is not surprised to hear a knock on his door at six thirty in the evening, and opens it warily.
“Are you ready yet?” she asks cheerfully.
“Oui,” he replies, slipping out and closing the door behind him. France has a freshly cut peony flower in hand, and as she grins nervously, he tucks it into her hair, which has been prettily curled and arranged, though a stray curl of hair continues to bob in front of her face, reminding him of his Canada.
“You look très merveilleux, Taiwan,” he whispers into her ear, and she blushes, feeling self-conscious in the fitted pink and gold cheongsam she had decided to wear.
“Thank you. Y-you look very stylish, too.” And he does, as polished as usual in a black and cream pinstriped three piece suit, a bronze-colored scarf knotted at his throat in a loose cravat. Taiwan has a sudden impression they might even look good together, despite their physical differences, and that random thought throws her off even more.
“We better hurry,” she says at last, grabbing his hand and heading towards the elevator. France chuckles to himself, amused by the idea that a girl is taking him out on a date. He wonders if tomorrow England will be polite to him.
Tonight they dine at a trendy, highly-rated Asian fusion restaurant. Neither of them were sure what the term meant, hoping it was not yet another American culinary experiment that had somehow become popular. They try a bit of everything on the menu, from tempura sushi to curry rice to fresh spring rolls to spicy pad thai, before reaching a consensus that maybe it would have been better to stick to cuisine from one country. France orders inexplicably girly drinks for them both, flirtinis and white Russians, and the conversation is easy, rambling about their hobbies, wine and dancing and Korean dramas, which they both like.
Taiwan insists on paying, as a proper Asian hostess would do, but of course he would not hear of it. They argue over the check for a few minutes, neither one giving in, and she finally solves it by dashing to the cashier to pay for them both.
“What do you want to do now?” France asks as they finish their drinks.
“I don’t know… Maybe we can find a karaoke bar? Do you like to karaoke?”
He laughs and shakes his head no. “Ma cherie, I don’t sing in public.”
“Oh, we’ll just reserve a room for ourselves if you are that shy,” she teases, poking him on the side.
“I am not shy!” France protests, his masculinity at stake. The truth is, he does not sing to just anyone, only people he likes. Granted, that could be almost anyone, but he feels like he has to make that distinction regardless. He has some standards.
“Come on, it will be fun,” Taiwan wheedles, and he allows himself to be dragged to a karaoke bar nearby, where a private room had conveniently opened for their use.
France does not know most of the songs, and ends up singing Beatles and Frank Sinatra, to her endless entertainment. Taiwan knows more of the current hits than he does, and goes all out when she takes up the microphone, even convincing him to get up and dance with her. They dance to both the fast and slow songs, and she likes how he moves with her, so unlike her reserved brothers, although their hands are occupied with holding the microphones instead of each other. The hour is over too soon for them both, but it had been worth it.
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When Taiwan next wakes up, she is lying on a couch, and she sits up and looks around her in alarm.
“I did not know where your room was, Taiwan, so I brought you to mine.” France is sitting on his bed, his expression oddly tender as he watches her by the flickering candlelight.
“O-oh…” She tries to calm her racing heart, and asks, “Why didn’t you wake me up? Did you carry me all the way here?”
“You would not wake up, and were clinging to me too tightly. So cute,” he adds, grinning.
“Aiya, I don’t believe you!” Taiwan grumbles as she takes off his jacket.
France waves a hand dismissively at her apologies for the wrinkles, and she huffs, noticing the peony flower had fallen out of her hair and onto the carpet.
“Were you watching me sleep the whole time, France?”
“It was only fifteen minutes, and I kept my hands to myself. You see, I can be a gentleman.”
Raising an eyebrow at him, she finds her shoes and puts them on, and then wobbles as she gets to her feet. He surges up and grabs her arm just in time, which actually causes her to nearly fall onto him. Taiwan looks up into his eyes, sleepy and disheveled from her nap, and he can not stop himself from leaning down and kissing her on the lips.
At first she freezes, too stunned to respond, then she sputters and pulls back.
They stare at each other, and Taiwan is aware of his hand at the small of her back, her body pressed close against his larger frame. She does not pull away when he lifts her chin and kisses her again, and this time, she tentatively parts her lips, trembling as he gently slides his tongue across her lips, her teeth and against her tongue. This time she even places an arm around his neck, though her other hand is clenched into a fist against his chest. He continues his exploration, methodically sensual, and she feels herself melting in his heat. When they part, she almost misses that sun-like radiance.
“S-so… that was a French kiss?” she asks stupidly, and he nods.
“Would you like to learn more, hmm?” he murmurs, and she turns bright red at the suggestion. But she does not say no, and France knows he has finally caught his butterfly.
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You've made me a fan of this pairing, anon! :D
♥
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“…Anything you want to… please,” she answers.
While he does not say anything, France’s expression reveals what he is thinking, and Taiwan stammers, “I-I’m not completely inexperienced, I just… hear things…”
He puts a finger to her lips to shush her and says, “I understand.” France has seen this reaction before, from young men and women whose real life experiences have yet to match up to their fantasies, and he had the unsurpassed enjoyment of helping these unfortunate souls find the physical pleasure that they sought. It was his gift to the world, after all, as the nation of love, and a task he undertook with great seriousness.
“Let us start slowly, then, and we shall go from there,” he whispers, bringing her hands up to his chest, over his heart, so that she could feel its beat. Taiwan closes her eyes, and lets the slow steady rhythm calm and lull her into a state of relaxation.
France suppresses a shudder of excitement when he feels small fingers curiously unbutton his vest and shirt, grateful for the fact that he would not have to coax her, at least not much. But Taiwan can not help but make an exclamation of surprise as her knuckles brush across the hair on his chest, and he laughs at her naiveté.
“S-sorry! I should have - I mean, Vietnam did say…”
“Say what, love?”
“She said that you were hairy,” Taiwan whispers, barely audible.
“Did she now…,” France murmurs, trying hard to not laugh. “May I ask what else she says of me?”
“That you are also… err… fat.”
France does not let a horrified grimace ruin the romantic mood, so instead he clears his throat and muses, “Ah, that is just her secret way of praising my rugged masculine body and raw animal sexuality.”
“That must be it. Though… I would like to confirm all of that first-hand, if you do not mind.” Another dazzling smile, amusement and mischief sparkling in her dark eyes, and France has to thank the saints for his good luck tonight.
They share another long kiss, slow and deep and passionate, the kind of gesture that lovers share, the lovers they could never be.
Then France helpfully pulls out the hairpins that hold her hair in place, letting the smooth locks tumble down around her shoulders. After she unzips her dress with trembling hands, he slides the silk brocade off of her slender body, and it falls to the ground with a whispering sound. Feeling exposed, Taiwan shivers and wraps her arms about herself, and France picks her up and sets her gently on his bed before shucking off the last of his clothing.
[lol, sorry for being so overly romantic and cheesy...]
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France watches her carefully, but her eyes are fluttering closed and her lips are parted in a calm half-smile, so he assumes that she has no objections. He ducks down and applies his mouth to one rosy nipple, licking it firmly and smiling to hear her gasp of delight. His tongue traces circles around the nipple, massaging the silky skin with expert motions, and at last he gives into the temptation and sucks, rolling the flesh in between his teeth. When he moves to repeat the process on the other breast, she breathes a soft shuddering “oh” that goes straight to his groin.
Reaching down between her legs, he feels warm moistness through the silk of her underwear and smiles in triumph. Not wasting any more time, France rolls the panties down and off her legs, brings them up to his mouth and takes in a deep breath of her scent before tossing the garment aside. Now she is completely open to him, large brown eyes almost unfocussed from the intensity of her arousal, and he rubs soothing circles on her inner thighs with his thumbs before parting them and pressing his lips to the wetness awaiting him there.
Taiwan shudders when France touches his tongue to her vital regions, sending white-hot sparks running up her spine. She pants and keens helplessly as he continues teasing, knowing exactly how to lick and rub that tiny nub of sensitive flesh to give the most pleasure. Then France gently crooks a finger into her at the same time, just a shallow, exploratory motion, anticipating that same snug heat around his own hardening length. Only a few more minutes and then she climaxes with a satisfied gasp, muscles still tensing and convulsing as he continues to stroke her with his fingers, drawing out the feeling for as long as possible.
Sitting up, France licks the tips of his fingers thoughtfully, watching Taiwan as she eventually stills from the aftershock of her orgasm, catching her breath at last. She opens her eyes and gazes up at him, a blissful smile curving her lips.
There is no denying, it was good, better than anything she had ever experienced, but she is no virgin, and she knows he is holding back quite a bit, if the other nations’ off-hand comments are to be believed. “Is that all?” she asks, with a touch of faux innocence in her voice.
He snorts in amusement. “I was not sure if you wanted more, mon petit. Perhaps I might be too much for you to handle.”
She replies by shoving her foot into his chest, making him grunt slightly. “Oh, I think I can handle you, believe me.”
“If you say so. But time flies, dear Taiwan, and I must wrap up this lesson soon.”
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“I want you, all of you… now, France, please, please,” she whispers, voice throbbing in need, and he can not resist her pleas. Holding her soft thighs apart, he gently nudges into her, almost hissing at how tight she is, pauses to let her body adjust to his size, then slides in slowly, trembling from having to restrain his desires. His patience is rewarded because she accepts him without hesitation, and so he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace and strength of his thrusts until they are both unable to stifle their moans.
He glances down once, and Taiwan happens to be looking up at the same time, and her beautiful black tresses lie tangled over the pillow and her eyelashes are long and wet and her expression is so sweet and trusting and adoring. France knows that look, has seen it before on the faces of his girls, and his heart aches unexpectedly. But then she arcs up with an ecstatic cry, rolling her hips in a fantastic manner, and the feeling of something like regret is promptly replaced with a far more pleasant one as he comes, uttering a soft contented groan.
As soon as his mind recovers from the wonderful blankness, he exhales deeply and lowers himself onto an elbow, hovering carefully over Taiwan, still drifting down from her peak. She croons something in Chinese as she wraps her arms about him tightly and buries her face into his silky gold hair, trying to remember every detail of this glow suffusing her body. It occurs to her in the few nanoseconds before France resumes peppering her face and throat with kisses that she actually did not learn anything in particular. But perhaps the experience of making love without awkwardness or discomfort or pages and pages of treaties to sign, with someone who definitely knew what he was doing… maybe that was what she really wanted.
They want to stay like this, safe in each other’s arms, but it is impossible. She has to get up and dress and get back to her room, all without anyone noticing exactly whose room she had come from. Smiling weakly, Taiwan tells him it will be no problem, for she is a master of stealth, and he has no choice but to trust her.
“Thank you, France, my charming teacher,” she breathes, even as he murmurs his appreciation at the same time. They laugh softly, kiss once more, and then she darts into the hallway on noiseless feet, a firefly dancing away into the dark of night.
He only sees her once more before the conference ends, and blows a kiss towards her that China mistakes as one meant for him. She waves back merrily as China stomps away and that is that. He does not call, and she knows better than to press the matter. Things go back to normal.
For a while, anyway.
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“France, if you get this message, please, please, come see me as soon as you can, I’m sorry to bother you, but it is important, and I need to talk to you. Goodbye.”
Then, and only then, Taiwan starts to cry.
He does come to Taiwan, almost immediately after he checked his voice messages and requested a vacation from his boss, and the worry he feels only increases during the taxi ride to her home in the outskirts of Taipei. When France knocks on the door, calling out Taiwan’s name softly, she flies out and throws her arms about him.
“Ma cherie, what is the problem? How can I help you?”
Through tears and sniffles, Taiwan reveals that she is possibly, most likely, pregnant with his child. France blinks and gapes at her in confusion, starts to say something, shuts his mouth, and starts again.
“I do not want to doubt a woman’s intuition, but this sort of thing is… it is impossible, Taiwan.”
“Well, I didn’t want it to happen either!” she snaps back heatedly. Taking a deep shuddering breath, she continues, “But… let us say that I really am pregnant. What do we do?”
“The first thing we are going to do… is sit down and get something to drink and eat.”
France steers her carefully towards the kitchen, and he makes her sit at the table, quickly brewing some tea and finding some biscuits to eat. Finally, Taiwan seems to have calmed down and France gently broaches the subject again.
“What do you want to do?”
“I… can’t keep the baby,” Taiwan murmurs. “I am too young, I would make a terrible mother, I just… can’t do it.”
“And… the other options?”
She stares at him and then shakes her head miserably, wringing her hands within her sleeves. “I am even more afraid.”
“Then don’t even think of it,” France whispers, reaching out to pat her soothingly on her back. “I am here now, dearest, and I will help you and the baby. You are not alone.”
“Honestly, I would have never expected it of you,” Taiwan says at last, smiling slightly.
“Ah, I even surprise myself sometimes.” France sighs, and then declares that their child will at least be incredibly good looking, to her amusement.
That night, France stays with her instead of at a hotel, and she is grateful for his comforting presence in her bed. Taiwan watches him doze off as she gradually tries to relax, her mind too full of racing thoughts for her to fall asleep right away.
“Hmm?” France mumbles, blinking sleepily. “Are you still awake, Taiwan?”
“Ah, I am sorry, I can’t stop worrying. A-am I keeping you up?”
He yawns and stretches, then winks at her suggestively. “Yes, but now that I am awake, I feel obliged to help you relax before I can go back to sleep.”
“You are so considerate, France,” she whispers back, before he leans over and kisses her tenderly.
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“Aiyaa… you know how my leaders would feel about this, mei-mei. But… as your brother, I am happy for you.”
“Thank you, brother.”
Japan and Korea look thunderstruck when they are told some weeks later, and Vietnam is noticeably torn between delight for her sister and fury at France, of whom she could believe anything terrible. After a brief awkward silence, they suddenly ply Taiwan with questions, how long before she is due, what will she name the child, etcetera, and she laughs nervously and tries her best to answer them. At her side, France squeezes her fingers gently, and she soldiers on, accepting their well-wishes with solemn grace, promises them news as often as she could.
Even though it is supposed to be unofficial, France still buys her a ring, white gold with an array of tiny sparkling diamonds. It is prettier than the arms he once promised to her government, Taiwan decides, and she kisses his cheek in thanks.
The implications of their closeness do not go unnoticed at the next conference, and Holland and England decide that they will beat up France later, so as to not disturb Taiwan’s delicate constitution.
But it is when elderly grandmothers and independent young women alike smile at her on the streets and wish her the best with her pregnancy, that she realizes how much a small part of her misses the sound of a baby’s laughter, a lover’s arms around her, all that could help fill up the emptiness she created in her struggle to overcome her status as a nation-state and prove her worth on the world stage. She had not expected to be a mother, yet it was not unwanted. When she tells France this later, he looks at her affectionately.
“Love has a way of teaching us what we do not want to know, but should.”
“...Do you know how obnoxious you sound when you are right?”
[Sorry for the lame ending, I had no more ideas. But I hope you enjoyed it, my first time writing an Asian or het, so I probably bumbled a lot. Taiwan is not officially recognized as a nation by France (or nearly any European country), but the two do have a fairly significant history of unofficial economic and culture ties. The final paragraphs were based on the recent article on Taiwan's low birthrate, which is the lowest in the world.]
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