I Have Seen Them Gentle [6/?]
anonymous
April 9 2010, 00:48:37 UTC
Alfred nods, tilting his head at the same time. Marianne thinks Alfred wants to say something, but then Matthew’s mouth descends upon him again, covering his lips, shy tongue poking in to probe, and oh, her breath can’t escape her chest.
Marianne only sees small flashes of tongue, uncertain, exploring even as they perform. But Matthew is the one to draw Alfred’s tongue from his mouth, curling his own around it. Alfred whimpers, and Marianne grins to herself as Arturia shifts and moans a soft, barely-there sound. The boys don’t hear it, at least.
But Marianne does, and her smile widens as one of her hands travels down Arturia’s front.
“I - what are you - would you stop -”
Matthew and Alfred break their kiss, panting, and through her frustration Marianne thinks the blurred, dazed quality of their eyes is breathtaking.
“What - oh, for heaven’s sake, not you,” she snaps. “I’m talking about this - this who -”
Marianne’s fingertips slip beneath the waistband of Arturia’s pants; she stiffens, a faint gasp escaping her mouth. Marianne hears the boys echo it with a sigh.
“You know,” Marianne says, kissing Arturia’s tilted neck as her fingers creep lower, “I’m finally beginning to remember why I like you in pants.” Her eyes flick back up to the boys’ wide eyes and trembling hands and smiles. “Oh, don’t mind us,” she says, a complete lie as her middle finger sneaks into Arturia’s folds. “Keep going.” Not a request.
The boys hesitate a moment more before turning to each other again, kissing, hands traveling over shoulder blades and bellies, toes curling and brushing one another. But Marianne watches the little slits of their eyes, the milk-white and the irises nested within them. They probably think those thick, pretty eyelashes hide everything, she thinks, and shivers as she fingers Arturia with a slow, steady pace. Her own body begins to tingle, but she wishes herself patience. She has control here, a spider’s web woven around the room, and if she moves in just the wrong way it shall break.
So she continues to finger Arturia, nuzzling her neck and rubbing a nipple beneath her suit and that damnable shirt. And the boys find their rhythm, moaning on each exhale as they begin to rub their hips together. Marianne sees hints of tenting fabric, the linen pulled tight around their groins, and smiles to herself. Her fingers rub Arturia’s clit with a bit more pressure and speed; Arturia thrashes and shifts in her chair, spreading wetness and heat.
“Ah - ah, bloody - Marianne, ah, I’m -”
Marianne pulls everything away in one fluid movement - hands, lips, her entire body. Arturia whirls around, gaping and glaring at the same time; the boys just watch, licking their lips, tense and afraid where they lay on the couch.
“M-Marianne,” Canada ventures, trying to sit up against Alfred’s hands clasped tight to his back. “Did we do something wrong? Do you -”
Oh, my dear, I’m not mad,” Marianne laughs, her hands coming up to undo the hairpins that hold her braid to her head. “It’s just - it’s getting a bit stuffy in here, don’t you think, dear Alfred?”
Alfred nods, dumbfounded; Arturia just sends her the same flat look as ever. “I don’t buy it for a second,” she says.
“Well of course you don’t,” Marianne shoots back, undoing the necklace around her neck and depositing it on the table. “You make it a national sport to disagree with me, my dear.”
“Oh, go to he -”
Marianne cuts Arturia off with a frustrated croon, her hands pawing at the buttons keeping her dress together. “Oh, Arturia, please help me out,” she pleads, giving her three companions the most pleading, pathetic look she can. “I fear I shall roast in this place if you don’t help~”
“Help her out, Art,” Alfred pants, as if in a dream. “Please?”
“I -” Arturia turns around to tell Alfred off, but Marianne has to bite back a smirk when she sees his big, bright eyes in the shifting light. ____
In other news, I’m probably going to be updating this every other day now, instead of daily - I recently picked up another one of my older fills again, and am trying to juggle three fills at a time AND finish up my thesis. I do thank everyone who’s been reading along, though!
I'm...you've reduced me to behaving like Alfred, like a teen. Unf. So so hot, seriously. How can you write so well? Marianne, you've entirely seduced me, my dear (it amuses me that she has the same allergy to clothes that France does. streaking!Marianne is even more funny than male!France doing it) Wow, those boys. Matt being the one to have control in a subtle way while Alfred is the one Marianne addresses to up things in her plan. Those descriptions of their tongues, lips, eyes, hips...*mindblowed beyond coherent response* Oh, and your Arturia is so so amazingly England, with the grouchiness, incoherency, easily falling into pleasure, barking commands even while this, and of course, arguing with France (I'm sure "arguing with the French" is a national sport somewhere in England hell, ALL OVER England
Alfred's reactions amuse me way too much. Can't wait how he'll react to Arturia disrobbing Marianne...
Marianne only sees small flashes of tongue, uncertain, exploring even as they perform. But Matthew is the one to draw Alfred’s tongue from his mouth, curling his own around it. Alfred whimpers, and Marianne grins to herself as Arturia shifts and moans a soft, barely-there sound. The boys don’t hear it, at least.
But Marianne does, and her smile widens as one of her hands travels down Arturia’s front.
“I - what are you - would you stop -”
Matthew and Alfred break their kiss, panting, and through her frustration Marianne thinks the blurred, dazed quality of their eyes is breathtaking.
“What - oh, for heaven’s sake, not you,” she snaps. “I’m talking about this - this who -”
Marianne’s fingertips slip beneath the waistband of Arturia’s pants; she stiffens, a faint gasp escaping her mouth. Marianne hears the boys echo it with a sigh.
“You know,” Marianne says, kissing Arturia’s tilted neck as her fingers creep lower, “I’m finally beginning to remember why I like you in pants.” Her eyes flick back up to the boys’ wide eyes and trembling hands and smiles. “Oh, don’t mind us,” she says, a complete lie as her middle finger sneaks into Arturia’s folds. “Keep going.” Not a request.
The boys hesitate a moment more before turning to each other again, kissing, hands traveling over shoulder blades and bellies, toes curling and brushing one another. But Marianne watches the little slits of their eyes, the milk-white and the irises nested within them. They probably think those thick, pretty eyelashes hide everything, she thinks, and shivers as she fingers Arturia with a slow, steady pace. Her own body begins to tingle, but she wishes herself patience. She has control here, a spider’s web woven around the room, and if she moves in just the wrong way it shall break.
So she continues to finger Arturia, nuzzling her neck and rubbing a nipple beneath her suit and that damnable shirt. And the boys find their rhythm, moaning on each exhale as they begin to rub their hips together. Marianne sees hints of tenting fabric, the linen pulled tight around their groins, and smiles to herself. Her fingers rub Arturia’s clit with a bit more pressure and speed; Arturia thrashes and shifts in her chair, spreading wetness and heat.
“Ah - ah, bloody - Marianne, ah, I’m -”
Marianne pulls everything away in one fluid movement - hands, lips, her entire body. Arturia whirls around, gaping and glaring at the same time; the boys just watch, licking their lips, tense and afraid where they lay on the couch.
“M-Marianne,” Canada ventures, trying to sit up against Alfred’s hands clasped tight to his back. “Did we do something wrong? Do you -”
Oh, my dear, I’m not mad,” Marianne laughs, her hands coming up to undo the hairpins that hold her braid to her head. “It’s just - it’s getting a bit stuffy in here, don’t you think, dear Alfred?”
Alfred nods, dumbfounded; Arturia just sends her the same flat look as ever. “I don’t buy it for a second,” she says.
“Well of course you don’t,” Marianne shoots back, undoing the necklace around her neck and depositing it on the table. “You make it a national sport to disagree with me, my dear.”
“Oh, go to he -”
Marianne cuts Arturia off with a frustrated croon, her hands pawing at the buttons keeping her dress together. “Oh, Arturia, please help me out,” she pleads, giving her three companions the most pleading, pathetic look she can. “I fear I shall roast in this place if you don’t help~”
“Help her out, Art,” Alfred pants, as if in a dream. “Please?”
“I -” Arturia turns around to tell Alfred off, but Marianne has to bite back a smirk when she sees his big, bright eyes in the shifting light.
____
In other news, I’m probably going to be updating this every other day now, instead of daily - I recently picked up another one of my older fills again, and am trying to juggle three fills at a time AND finish up my thesis. I do thank everyone who’s been reading along, though!
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Wow, those boys. Matt being the one to have control in a subtle way while Alfred is the one Marianne addresses to up things in her plan. Those descriptions of their tongues, lips, eyes, hips...*mindblowed beyond coherent response*
Oh, and your Arturia is so so amazingly England, with the grouchiness, incoherency, easily falling into pleasure, barking commands even while this, and of course, arguing with France (I'm sure "arguing with the French" is a national sport somewhere in England
hell, ALL OVER England
Alfred's reactions amuse me way too much. Can't wait how he'll react to Arturia disrobbing Marianne...
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Reply
I'm so glad I've refound it, though. This is one of the best F/A/C/E fills I've read so far. Keep up the great work!
And good luck juggling all of that. Take care not to stress/wear yourself out, hun ;)
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