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!
Re: aeternum [22b/22]
anonymous
January 24 2010, 12:43:26 UTC
This ending is perfect. Thank you so much fr this goodbye gift. Like the others, I'm sad that someone with such talent is leaving us, but I'm glad that you'll be pursue something that you love. I thank you for the time you shared with us here.
Re: aeternum [22b/22]
anonymous
March 19 2010, 00:18:00 UTC
Extraordinarily late to the party, but great job. Your writing is fantastic and captivating, and I'm sad that you're leaving the fandom, but you probably have a good reason. This was a damn good fic and you should be proud of your talent.
Re: aeternum [22b/22]
anonymous
March 20 2010, 05:11:58 UTC
Late reply, but thank you so much for the kind comment. It really made my day to hear someone enjoyed this fic. Actually, even though school has taken up all of my time, I still pop back into the fandom every now and then. It's that hard to leave, haha.
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.
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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.]
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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.
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Good luck with your studies!
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<3
recaptcha: serious danger. ???
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Me too,i'm sad you leaving us,but very good luck for you studies.
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