aeternum [18/??]
anonymous
January 19 2010, 05:37:56 UTC
The weather was too forbidding and the mountain pass roads too dangerous for Gallia to cause mischief, so he usually remained by Rome’s side, solemnly listening to haphazard lessons on the law and debate and war and engineering. Sometimes he would passively absorb the new information, but more often he would question Rome, seemingly innocent in his curiosity about this civic code or that military maneuver. And Rome, infatuated as ever, would blithely answer before it ever occurred to him that perhaps it was not a good idea to reveal such details about one’s empire to a former enemy. Then he would justify his actions by telling himself Gallia was a child, an ignorant and uncouth barbarian, and would never think of using that information against such a benevolent conqueror.
Other times, Gallia would ride with the captive tribesmen, and the republic more than once found Avell trotting riderless beside a cart, Gallia curled up in his former king’s arms, napping, his dreaming face peaceful yet sad. Rome left him alone during those occasions. He did not like being around the prisoners, because he could feel their pale haunted eyes watching him long after he had ridden out of sight.
Every night, as much as he could, Rome tried to teach Gallia about the art of romance. What lovers love to hear and see and taste and feel, how to please with looks and whispers and kisses and caresses, all of the secrets of sexual delight and sensuality he had gained in his travels to Greece and Egypt and Africa and Arabia. In turn, Rome hoped to discover what brought out the infamous fiery passion of the Gauls, the wild, joyful disinhibition he could only speculate about after reading the somewhat lurid accounts left by Greek historians.
However, Gallia remained difficult to read. He listened carefully and copied Rome’s gestures flawlessly, as if kissing and petting were second nature to him, but seemed content to do nothing more, offering no further insight, betraying no special affection to his teacher. It was infuriating, to say the least.
When pressed, Gallia finally explained, quite seriously, that having a long mustache with braided ends was considered very titillating among the Celts. Since the current trend in Rome was to remain clean-shaven, the republic suspected that Gallia must be teasing him. He must be.
Rome bore with the teasing, far better than anyone else would have expected. For he sensed that the boy was succumbing to his charm and superior culture, heard it in his increasing control of the Latin language, saw it in his careful letters and numerals, his vastly improved manners, befitting one of the nobilis.
But it was not yet complete, Gallia’s assimilation, and it would never fully resolve, not while he still wore his mother’s torc, not while Vercingetorix still lived, and the bards sang in the night of their glorious past.
aeternum [19/??]
anonymous
January 19 2010, 05:41:35 UTC
Despite the tenuous intimacy growing between them, Rome could not help feeling a pang of jealousy whenever he saw Gallia attempt to draw Germania into a conversation. It was unreasonable and unprofessional - Gallia was his, not Germania’s - yet the republic could not quiet his suspicions, and worry gnawed at him as the army continued to wend through the mountain passes.
“Do you still want him, Germania?” Rome muttered into his wine-cup, as the two finished their evening meal in front of a small campfire one night.
Germania stared into the fire impassively, not bothering to ask who Rome meant.
“The boy, Gallia. I know you desire him, friend, don’t deny it.”
“Concerning that, I claim ignorance.”
“But you should know. You always look at him with those, those eyes of yours.”
If anything, the other nation’s eyebrows raised even higher.
“I mean, who wouldn’t want him? By Jove, so young and tender and pretty…” A deep, lusty sigh.
“….” Were they talking about the same Gallia?
“And such sweet kisses, too. I would not have expected such of a barbarian, after seeing your stone-hearted women, with their pinched faces and brawny arms.”
Germania’s frown deepened, though he could not really deny that observation of his women, they worked hard, and had little time for flirtations once they became wives.
“Or… we could both have him, if he does not object. I bet he would even enjoy it, after all, he tells me his mother would often, often…” Rome trailed off wistfully, the faintest flicker of a thought in his dark brown eyes, before it, too, flitted away under the influence of wine. “You know, you’re not that bad-looking, Germania. I would have bedded you myself if I could be sure my cock wouldn’t freeze and fall off. Maybe… I’ll bring it up to him in a few years, haha.”
Gruffly, Germania moved Rome’s wandering hand off of his thigh. “You’re drunk and rambling. Go to bed, Rome, and forget this.”
“What, now, I’ve only had… hey, is this wineskin already empty?” He shook it upside down mournfully, watching a few drops flick out, and tried to reach for another wineskin.
With a sigh, Germania hauled the drunken soldier back to his tent, knowing all would be forgotten the next morning. But he, at least, would remember.
[Err, I'm actually planning to get out of the fandom, but I'm really doing my best to wrap this fic up without making it end too abruptly. Thanks to everyone who haven't given up on me, I am sorry for dragging this out, but I just had so much I wanted to say about them and not enough time to write. Hopefully my next update will come soon!]
Re: aeternum [19/??]
anonymous
January 19 2010, 12:42:18 UTC
L-leaving us? Bawwww, anon. ;___; But thank you so much for deciding to finish the story before you go. It's really wonderful, and is pretty much all going straight to my headcanon. The characterizations and history of it all are just perfect.
Re: aeternum [19/??]
anonymous
January 19 2010, 19:59:07 UTC
This is an excellent story. I've recently been reading/watching a lot about the Republic of Rome's decay. Caesar's murder is coming up! will that be when little France finally crumbles? I wonder if Hispannia and Britannia will make an appearance... ;-) Are you really leaving? T.T
Re: aeternum [19/??]
anonymous
January 21 2010, 04:23:04 UTC
Thank you. I really love reading about Julius Caesar, though I'm not sure this fic will get to his assassination. Or Hispania and Britannia, unfortunately. Actually, I've already left, I'm just finishing this and one other unfinished business. Sorry... *feels bad*
Re: aeternum [19/??]
anonymous
January 20 2010, 00:49:18 UTC
I just read your fic from the beginning, and it's fabulous~ There are so few fics focused on this time period with Rome and Germania, let alone ones with such awesome characterization. I-I really love your Gallia!France a lot. ♥ Thanks for trying to finish the fic before leaving, can I ask why you're planning on gettin' out though? It makes me sad that you want to leave, but if it's not fun anymore, you shouldn't waste your time being unhappy. I will miss you ♥
Re: aeternum [19/??]
anonymous
January 21 2010, 02:35:18 UTC
Thank you. I really love this time period, it was a special area of interest for me, and so I tried to do my best for it.
Umm, well, the main reason is that I am working on a doctorate degree, and writing/drawing takes up a lot of time and energy that I should be using to study. There are a few personal reasons I'd rather not go into, but in general, I just needed a break from fandom. Sorry... Now I feel bad about leaving, but... I really need to...
Re: aeternum [19/??]
anonymous
January 20 2010, 18:40:21 UTC
I only just found this and I'm so sorry to hear you are leaving the fandom. Of course I do understand but it's always somewhat sad. ;;; But it's so kind of you to try and finish this anyway, not many authors would do that.
I'm enjoying the fic a lot. <3 Though I wondered why wasn't Gallia interested in war? Is there some specific reason?
Writer anon is glad you enjoyed this fic and will do their best to finish.
As for your question, I was trying to reconcile a very warlike Gaul with the France we know now (who loses wars even with better equipment, weapons and training.) Perhaps Gallia feels that fighting isn't worth getting killed and leaving your family behind, although historically, Gallia stages a handful of rebellions against the Roman Empire later on... If that makes any sense.
aeternum [20/22]
anonymous
January 23 2010, 08:11:56 UTC
The sour smell of wine and a dragging, thumping noise woke Gallia from his doze, and he kept his eyes closed, burrowing further into the furs and blankets. When he could not remain still any longer, he turned over and carefully peeked over a fold of wool to see Germania crouched by Rome’s unconscious form. Silvery moonlight glinted off long white-blond hair, the polished armor, the keen edge of the pugio as it was drawn from the other’s belt.
For a brief harrowing moment, Gallia felt out of place, a child sneaking in on two grown-ups doing grown-up things, and his fingers clutched at the blanket in alarm.
Then Germania looked up, his expression cool and emotionless, and he held the dagger out to a very surprised Gallia.
“If he bothers you tonight, do not be afraid to stick him.”
Gallia smiled weakly but set the dagger aside, far out of reach. “You must think highly of me, to believe that I still have a virtue to defend.”
“I think you are toying with what you do not fully understand, and I am warning you,” Germania replied, watching impassively as Gallia got to his knees and brushed his lips against the republic’s cheekbone.
“And why would you feel the need to do that?” Gallia asked, glancing up at the mercenary through long blond lashes. “Are you my guardian? Or are you his lover?”
“Neither,” Germania said, stoic as ever. They stared at each other in tense silence, while Rome shifted in his sleep between them and mumbled something unintelligible and most likely not intelligent.
“Then why do you care what happens to me?”
Because you will never grow up as long as he is in power, and he will crush you without even noticing, as she once did to him, long before she found you. Because I do not want what happened to the other boys to happen to you. Because the same may happen to my own children, and I had stood aside and did nothing to stop it.
“I… can not say why. Only that I do, and Rome does not, and you best remember that,” was all Germania said in reply before he abruptly got to his feet and left the two of them alone.
Gallia waited until the barbarian had walked out of sight, and turned to Rome, who was starting to snore. In the dim light of the moon and stars, he unfastened the red cloak and loosened the armor enough to slide it off Rome’s torso, trying to get him comfortable.
“Wake up, old man,” Gallia whispered, shaking the republic’s shoulder. “You need to drink some water before you sleep.”
He had almost given up trying to rouse him when Rome opened his eyes at last and sleepily propped himself up on an elbow. “Ah, fair Gaul, I knew you would come around one day… Come here, give me a kiss,” he rumbled, beckoning Gallia closer.
Not sure how to answer, Gallia pressed the cup of water to Rome’s mouth, quietly directing him to sit up and drink. The cup was drained and Rome tossed it to the side, pulling the younger nation into his lap, mumbling endearments more suited for the woman who rejected his advances, and not her son.
[Germania refers to the time that Gauls sacked Rome in 387 B.C.]
aeternum [21/22]
anonymous
January 23 2010, 08:13:06 UTC
Closing his eyes, Gallia let Rome kiss him, let those rough, clever hands push him back onto the blankets and furs, making only the soft encouraging noises he knew the other liked to hear, which effortlessly fed both ego and lust. Because that was one thing he could do well, one measure of control he could summon in a world that now controlled him. Almost absent-mindedly, Gallia ran his fingers through the oiled curls as he had done before, tugging and stroking the thick disheveled strands until Rome broke away, panting in desire.
His attention centered on the face hovering above his, Gallia reached for Rome’s wrist and guided it under his tunic, shyly, so hesitantly. Laughing to himself, Rome squeezed the soft bare thigh, then untied his belt and stripped him of his clothing, leaving Gallia naked but for the golden Celtic ornaments wound around his throat and wrists. The older nation moved in between the parted legs, pausing to disrobe himself before leaning forward, dark eyes alight with hunger. A thin smirk curved Rome’s lips as he surveyed the pale body laid open for him, a smile more befitting a general after breaking a long siege than that of a teacher, or a lover.
“My little bird, my sweet Gallia… I have taught you well, have I not?” he murmured as he tickled the exposed skin with his fingertips, and Gallia shuddered and whimpered breathlessly in response to his touch. Such innocent, unpracticed gestures merely served to stoke his lust as fiercely as the flames of Vulcan’s forge, and Rome had never been one to deny those urges.
“I think you are ready.”
Despite Germania’s warning still echoing in his ears, Gallia licked his lips and nodded obediently. “I am.”
Rome bent forward to kiss him, hard, this time slipping one hand under his back to bring their bodies together while the other hand briefly fondled him. So close, Gallia could not disregard the other’s obvious arousal, the heavy heat, the spreading wetness on his stomach, and his muscles tensed in nervous anticipation without him even realizing it.
Sensing the youth’s reaction, discerning the reason for it, Rome chuckled again, murmuring, “Do not fret, beloved. I will not hurt you, I promise.”
To soothe him, he moved lower, nuzzling at the slender throat and wishing, not for the first time, that Gallia would get rid of the cursed torc. Running his thumbs gently over the nipples, he then kissed and sucked at them, at long last able to draw out the most adorable squeaks of delight when he could not before, no matter how hard he tried. Rome took one look at the pretty flushed face, the blue eyes trusting yet knowing at the same time. He reached for the jar of ointment he thankfully kept close by, murmuring comforting words into Gallia’s ear as he rubbed the salve into the skin of the smooth white thighs, and then over the length of his own throbbing cock. Hearing his breath run shallow and fast, Rome decided to not waste any more time and adjusted himself, bringing the boy’s legs together before plunging in between them and thrusting slowly, steadily, indulging himself in the utterly decadent sensation of taking a young nation for his own satisfaction. Any last vestiges of restraint that had survived the alcohol dissipated at once, and he lost himself to the pleasure cresting and building deep in his loins.
aeternum [22a/22]
anonymous
January 23 2010, 08:14:39 UTC
“Ye gods, Gallia---” he growled, unable to hold himself back any longer.
Gallia made a soft exclamation when the other nation shuddered and spilled onto his hips, and Rome cursed foully in a low, trembling voice. Suddenly the inside of the tent was too stifling, the blankets and furs too scratchy and hot. Breathing heavily, Rome settled down on his knees, his body feeling slow and sluggish after having achieved much-needed release. So he was not prepared when Gallia surged upwards, almost knocking their foreheads together as he wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders.
“Rome, don’t leave yet,” Gallia whispered desperately. “Stay, please?”
Exhaling mightily, Rome nodded and kissed the moist parted lips with as much tenderness as he could muster.
“Hush, I am right here, Gallia.” He drew the boy into the circle of his arms, fitting the curve of his spine against his chest, and asked, “Do you want me to touch you now?”
“Yes…” And Gallia had to turn his face into the furs to keep from crying out as Rome reached around and began stroking him with experienced fingers, bringing him to a swift and dizzying climax. Heart pounding too erratically, Gallia gasped weakly for air, fighting down a nearly nauseous wave of mortification. He knew Rome was speaking now, could feel the vibrations of the deep voice throughout his bones, but his senses were too muzzy to translate the Latin into his own tongue, and so Gallia stayed still in Rome’s strong embrace, waiting for the oblivion of sleep to wash over him.
Beyond the reach of his fingers, the dagger lay untouched, unused.
No matter, Gallia thought drowsily, Rome will most likely trip over it the next morning.
When morning came, Rome did end up tripping over his own belt, but he did not fall upon the blade and die, much to Germania’s disappointment. Gallia watched the two argue from the cover of the tent, a distant look on his face. It did not take a druid’s magic to sense that something had changed between the three of them, for better or worse. The future awaited now, and he must find his own place in this unknown world. But at least he would not be alone.
He would never be alone again.
[Well, the worst part of this fic is over, thankfully, hope no one’s eyes burned reading it. Also, I can't count.]
aeternum [22b/22]
anonymous
January 23 2010, 08:23:47 UTC
The die had been cast, history to be penned by the victors. An entire nation fell to the republic of Rome, never to rise again. For one of their kind to live, they must take another’s place, and France came to understand this as he watched empires crumble throughout the centuries, many of which he helped build and then later destroyed. Yet even knowing that she would die, his mother had loved and cherished him, and he gave and gave that precious love away, even to the one who killed her. To the one who ultimately killed him. To his half siblings in the northern isles, his adopted brothers by the Mediterranean Sea, his sometimes allies, sometimes enemies to the east, the new nations he found and cared for and lost. France loved them all, whether they returned that love or not.
He was not his mother, could never hope to be, but he was alive, and would fight in his own way. France would live for love, and love until he died.
Err, there were a lot of historical notes that went with this, but I forgot to write them down, so feel free to ask if you don't understand something. I think that's all I have, any more would get dreadfully boring and rambly, if it hasn't already.
I spent several months working on this, for it is a very special subject to me, so I'm honestly sad (but relieved) to be writing these last words. Thank you OP for requesting this, and thank you everyone for reading and commenting. It's been a great experience, and I shall miss it.
Re: aeternum [22b/22]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 05:16:02 UTC
A very late thank you, but I appreciated everyone's comments and am so happy that readers enjoyed this fic. I really wish I had more time to stick around!
Other times, Gallia would ride with the captive tribesmen, and the republic more than once found Avell trotting riderless beside a cart, Gallia curled up in his former king’s arms, napping, his dreaming face peaceful yet sad. Rome left him alone during those occasions. He did not like being around the prisoners, because he could feel their pale haunted eyes watching him long after he had ridden out of sight.
Every night, as much as he could, Rome tried to teach Gallia about the art of romance. What lovers love to hear and see and taste and feel, how to please with looks and whispers and kisses and caresses, all of the secrets of sexual delight and sensuality he had gained in his travels to Greece and Egypt and Africa and Arabia. In turn, Rome hoped to discover what brought out the infamous fiery passion of the Gauls, the wild, joyful disinhibition he could only speculate about after reading the somewhat lurid accounts left by Greek historians.
However, Gallia remained difficult to read. He listened carefully and copied Rome’s gestures flawlessly, as if kissing and petting were second nature to him, but seemed content to do nothing more, offering no further insight, betraying no special affection to his teacher. It was infuriating, to say the least.
When pressed, Gallia finally explained, quite seriously, that having a long mustache with braided ends was considered very titillating among the Celts. Since the current trend in Rome was to remain clean-shaven, the republic suspected that Gallia must be teasing him. He must be.
Rome bore with the teasing, far better than anyone else would have expected. For he sensed that the boy was succumbing to his charm and superior culture, heard it in his increasing control of the Latin language, saw it in his careful letters and numerals, his vastly improved manners, befitting one of the nobilis.
But it was not yet complete, Gallia’s assimilation, and it would never fully resolve, not while he still wore his mother’s torc, not while Vercingetorix still lived, and the bards sang in the night of their glorious past.
Reply
“Do you still want him, Germania?” Rome muttered into his wine-cup, as the two finished their evening meal in front of a small campfire one night.
Germania stared into the fire impassively, not bothering to ask who Rome meant.
“The boy, Gallia. I know you desire him, friend, don’t deny it.”
“Concerning that, I claim ignorance.”
“But you should know. You always look at him with those, those eyes of yours.”
If anything, the other nation’s eyebrows raised even higher.
“I mean, who wouldn’t want him? By Jove, so young and tender and pretty…” A deep, lusty sigh.
“….” Were they talking about the same Gallia?
“And such sweet kisses, too. I would not have expected such of a barbarian, after seeing your stone-hearted women, with their pinched faces and brawny arms.”
Germania’s frown deepened, though he could not really deny that observation of his women, they worked hard, and had little time for flirtations once they became wives.
“Or… we could both have him, if he does not object. I bet he would even enjoy it, after all, he tells me his mother would often, often…” Rome trailed off wistfully, the faintest flicker of a thought in his dark brown eyes, before it, too, flitted away under the influence of wine. “You know, you’re not that bad-looking, Germania. I would have bedded you myself if I could be sure my cock wouldn’t freeze and fall off. Maybe… I’ll bring it up to him in a few years, haha.”
Gruffly, Germania moved Rome’s wandering hand off of his thigh. “You’re drunk and rambling. Go to bed, Rome, and forget this.”
“What, now, I’ve only had… hey, is this wineskin already empty?” He shook it upside down mournfully, watching a few drops flick out, and tried to reach for another wineskin.
With a sigh, Germania hauled the drunken soldier back to his tent, knowing all would be forgotten the next morning. But he, at least, would remember.
[Err, I'm actually planning to get out of the fandom, but I'm really doing my best to wrap this fic up without making it end too abruptly. Thanks to everyone who haven't given up on me, I am sorry for dragging this out, but I just had so much I wanted to say about them and not enough time to write. Hopefully my next update will come soon!]
Reply
Reply
Bawwww, anon. ;___;
But thank you so much for deciding to finish the story before you go. It's really wonderful, and is pretty much all going straight to my headcanon. The characterizations and history of it all are just perfect.
Reply
Are you really leaving? T.T
Reply
Reply
Reply
Umm, well, the main reason is that I am working on a doctorate degree, and writing/drawing takes up a lot of time and energy that I should be using to study. There are a few personal reasons I'd rather not go into, but in general, I just needed a break from fandom. Sorry...
Now I feel bad about leaving, but... I really need to...
Reply
I'm enjoying the fic a lot. <3 Though I wondered why wasn't Gallia interested in war? Is there some specific reason?
Reply
As for your question, I was trying to reconcile a very warlike Gaul with the France we know now (who loses wars even with better equipment, weapons and training.) Perhaps Gallia feels that fighting isn't worth getting killed and leaving your family behind, although historically, Gallia stages a handful of rebellions against the Roman Empire later on... If that makes any sense.
Reply
For a brief harrowing moment, Gallia felt out of place, a child sneaking in on two grown-ups doing grown-up things, and his fingers clutched at the blanket in alarm.
Then Germania looked up, his expression cool and emotionless, and he held the dagger out to a very surprised Gallia.
“If he bothers you tonight, do not be afraid to stick him.”
Gallia smiled weakly but set the dagger aside, far out of reach. “You must think highly of me, to believe that I still have a virtue to defend.”
“I think you are toying with what you do not fully understand, and I am warning you,” Germania replied, watching impassively as Gallia got to his knees and brushed his lips against the republic’s cheekbone.
“And why would you feel the need to do that?” Gallia asked, glancing up at the mercenary through long blond lashes. “Are you my guardian? Or are you his lover?”
“Neither,” Germania said, stoic as ever. They stared at each other in tense silence, while Rome shifted in his sleep between them and mumbled something unintelligible and most likely not intelligent.
“Then why do you care what happens to me?”
Because you will never grow up as long as he is in power, and he will crush you without even noticing, as she once did to him, long before she found you. Because I do not want what happened to the other boys to happen to you. Because the same may happen to my own children, and I had stood aside and did nothing to stop it.
“I… can not say why. Only that I do, and Rome does not, and you best remember that,” was all Germania said in reply before he abruptly got to his feet and left the two of them alone.
Gallia waited until the barbarian had walked out of sight, and turned to Rome, who was starting to snore. In the dim light of the moon and stars, he unfastened the red cloak and loosened the armor enough to slide it off Rome’s torso, trying to get him comfortable.
“Wake up, old man,” Gallia whispered, shaking the republic’s shoulder. “You need to drink some water before you sleep.”
He had almost given up trying to rouse him when Rome opened his eyes at last and sleepily propped himself up on an elbow. “Ah, fair Gaul, I knew you would come around one day… Come here, give me a kiss,” he rumbled, beckoning Gallia closer.
Not sure how to answer, Gallia pressed the cup of water to Rome’s mouth, quietly directing him to sit up and drink. The cup was drained and Rome tossed it to the side, pulling the younger nation into his lap, mumbling endearments more suited for the woman who rejected his advances, and not her son.
[Germania refers to the time that Gauls sacked Rome in 387 B.C.]
Reply
His attention centered on the face hovering above his, Gallia reached for Rome’s wrist and guided it under his tunic, shyly, so hesitantly. Laughing to himself, Rome squeezed the soft bare thigh, then untied his belt and stripped him of his clothing, leaving Gallia naked but for the golden Celtic ornaments wound around his throat and wrists. The older nation moved in between the parted legs, pausing to disrobe himself before leaning forward, dark eyes alight with hunger. A thin smirk curved Rome’s lips as he surveyed the pale body laid open for him, a smile more befitting a general after breaking a long siege than that of a teacher, or a lover.
“My little bird, my sweet Gallia… I have taught you well, have I not?” he murmured as he tickled the exposed skin with his fingertips, and Gallia shuddered and whimpered breathlessly in response to his touch. Such innocent, unpracticed gestures merely served to stoke his lust as fiercely as the flames of Vulcan’s forge, and Rome had never been one to deny those urges.
“I think you are ready.”
Despite Germania’s warning still echoing in his ears, Gallia licked his lips and nodded obediently. “I am.”
Rome bent forward to kiss him, hard, this time slipping one hand under his back to bring their bodies together while the other hand briefly fondled him. So close, Gallia could not disregard the other’s obvious arousal, the heavy heat, the spreading wetness on his stomach, and his muscles tensed in nervous anticipation without him even realizing it.
Sensing the youth’s reaction, discerning the reason for it, Rome chuckled again, murmuring, “Do not fret, beloved. I will not hurt you, I promise.”
To soothe him, he moved lower, nuzzling at the slender throat and wishing, not for the first time, that Gallia would get rid of the cursed torc. Running his thumbs gently over the nipples, he then kissed and sucked at them, at long last able to draw out the most adorable squeaks of delight when he could not before, no matter how hard he tried. Rome took one look at the pretty flushed face, the blue eyes trusting yet knowing at the same time. He reached for the jar of ointment he thankfully kept close by, murmuring comforting words into Gallia’s ear as he rubbed the salve into the skin of the smooth white thighs, and then over the length of his own throbbing cock. Hearing his breath run shallow and fast, Rome decided to not waste any more time and adjusted himself, bringing the boy’s legs together before plunging in between them and thrusting slowly, steadily, indulging himself in the utterly decadent sensation of taking a young nation for his own satisfaction. Any last vestiges of restraint that had survived the alcohol dissipated at once, and he lost himself to the pleasure cresting and building deep in his loins.
Reply
Gallia made a soft exclamation when the other nation shuddered and spilled onto his hips, and Rome cursed foully in a low, trembling voice. Suddenly the inside of the tent was too stifling, the blankets and furs too scratchy and hot. Breathing heavily, Rome settled down on his knees, his body feeling slow and sluggish after having achieved much-needed release. So he was not prepared when Gallia surged upwards, almost knocking their foreheads together as he wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders.
“Rome, don’t leave yet,” Gallia whispered desperately. “Stay, please?”
Exhaling mightily, Rome nodded and kissed the moist parted lips with as much tenderness as he could muster.
“Hush, I am right here, Gallia.” He drew the boy into the circle of his arms, fitting the curve of his spine against his chest, and asked, “Do you want me to touch you now?”
“Yes…” And Gallia had to turn his face into the furs to keep from crying out as Rome reached around and began stroking him with experienced fingers, bringing him to a swift and dizzying climax. Heart pounding too erratically, Gallia gasped weakly for air, fighting down a nearly nauseous wave of mortification. He knew Rome was speaking now, could feel the vibrations of the deep voice throughout his bones, but his senses were too muzzy to translate the Latin into his own tongue, and so Gallia stayed still in Rome’s strong embrace, waiting for the oblivion of sleep to wash over him.
Beyond the reach of his fingers, the dagger lay untouched, unused.
No matter, Gallia thought drowsily, Rome will most likely trip over it the next morning.
When morning came, Rome did end up tripping over his own belt, but he did not fall upon the blade and die, much to Germania’s disappointment. Gallia watched the two argue from the cover of the tent, a distant look on his face. It did not take a druid’s magic to sense that something had changed between the three of them, for better or worse. The future awaited now, and he must find his own place in this unknown world. But at least he would not be alone.
He would never be alone again.
[Well, the worst part of this fic is over, thankfully, hope no one’s eyes burned reading it. Also, I can't count.]
Reply
He was not his mother, could never hope to be, but he was alive, and would fight in his own way. France would live for love, and love until he died.
Err, there were a lot of historical notes that went with this, but I forgot to write them down, so feel free to ask if you don't understand something. I think that's all I have, any more would get dreadfully boring and rambly, if it hasn't already.
I spent several months working on this, for it is a very special subject to me, so I'm honestly sad (but relieved) to be writing these last words. Thank you OP for requesting this, and thank you everyone for reading and commenting. It's been a great experience, and I shall miss it.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment